It is the oddest sensation when a car tumbles. The seat belt straps dug into me, then released into weightlessness. The car hit nose first and the airbag slammed into my nose. The headlights lit rocks and plants through a fog of white powder. I tumbled away from the road, rock, air, over and over. Breathing white fog. My neck and teeth snapped. I thought about Meggie and Chance. About leaving Jon the last time like that. He wouldn’t know I loved him. He wouldn’t know I was okay having the baby. I understood. It was ours. I was going to die without saying good-bye.
Where am I? I was cold. Death is cold? Would I always be cold? Cold from now on? I almost started laughing. Now on? What did now on mean? It means we’ll see what it means.
I was clammy the next time. Everything hurt. A smooth-haired baby was smiling at me. It wasn’t my baby. Where was my baby? It was a box. Rain came through the broken out back window, ran over the whale sitting next to me, and dripped on the box. The paper bubbled. My breasts were soaked with cold milk. Their weight pulled hard on the shoulder strap. I needed to pee. I need to go potty. Okay, Angel. Hold on.
The airbag hung limp from the steering wheel. The windshield was shattered into a million spider webby cracks. I could see water crashing on rocks below as rain washed away white powder. Daylight. Alone. Hanging from the seat belt in my car, legs caged by the steering wheel. Rolls of toilet paper wrapped in blue and white paper were everywhere.
Dark splats landed on the webbed window and spread out to pink. Blood. My mind stored the pattern. I needed to drop blood splatters? Drop it from above? It didn’t always come from above. Sometimes we splattered it on walls. The ceiling.
Sun lustered gold across tide pools below. Low tide. Pink. Calm pink. It felt like a swaying hammock, almost imperceptible at first, as waves concussed on the rocks below and sent gentle updrafts my way. I was hang gliding. I could time the updraft with the sound of waves hitting rock, like lightning and thunder. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand.
It got less gentle the more attention I paid. I’d read that somewhere, that we attract what we pay attention to. I wished I’d written a letter to Meggie and Chance to have when I wasn’t there anymore. I’d tell them to be careful what you fear. It always comes to pass. I tried to dilute my fear with resource management, but it was concentrated on the rhythm. I braced myself after each wave broke. It made the car move more. I needed to be still in it. Stillness was my only resource. Waves broke left to right. The sound moved through my head, left to right. A big swell.
A gecko came through the broken out passenger window. The lizard dodged blood as it moved in short bursts across the windshield. He was out late; the mosquitoes had gone home for the day. I had bites on my arms and face. I tried to scratch my cheek but the movement made the car slip. Sit still. My shoulder screamed. My breasts ached. Gravity suckled, milk ran free. Magic toes crawled across my breast, up the shoulder strap and looked around my neck, tentative, like a man who is afraid of women. Jon’s not afraid.
Where am I? The car would drop to the rocks and slip into the sea. I was at that brief moment between things. Before you know you have a problem and when you discover the full extent of things. It was like that ride, Freefall. They hang you over the void just long enough for fear to set in, and then drop you. At first I liked it, not anymore. I was in that moment again. I like here or there. I don’t like the in-between moments. It’s all an in-between moment.
I waited for the drop all day. The ride doesn’t fall. It slides in a scoop and leaves you on your back looking at the sky through a metal cage. Chance didn’t look through a cage yet.
When we were kids we swam off Wind ‘n Sea beach. The sun-hot sand scorched our feet, and then slid underwater becoming a cold underwater mountain that fell away into gray, then into the abyss. There was no telling where the bottom was. Gravity grabs on at 70 feet and pulls you down. I didn’t look. It was a lot to contemplate when I was floating over it. When the water was cold, I rolled onto my back and let the sun heat the air in my lungs and blood in my heart.
Is there a bottom to the earth? Is there a top or bottom in the universe? I guess not. It keeps expanding. What’s the point of reference? I should have asked Chana. I had thought to ask her so many things, but I was thinking about myself. I was contracting over Celeste, and the expanding words never came out. I wish I’d asked more.
Eric was a city lifeguard over his college summers. One afternoon, during my father’s last summer, Eric came home from a training session and told the family over dinner that their lieutenant had said they’d find drowned bodies in one of three places: On the top, on the bottom, or somewhere in between. Everyone laughed, but me.
“Why is that funny?” I asked.
“Because it’s stupid,” said Eric. “The guy’s a jock moron.”
“But it’s true,” I said. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s true, Hannie,” said my father. “It sounds silly. He could have just said you’ll find the body somewhere in the water.”
“Sometimes they don’t find the body,” I said. “Like airplanes.”
“No,” said my father. “Sometimes they don’t.”
“Do sharks eat them?” I asked.
“Probably, sometimes, or crabs,” he said. “Sometimes they just stop looking.”
“Because they go too deep?”
“The ocean is a big place, Hannie,” said my father.
If I slid into the abyss Jon would never know what happened. I’d be lost in the big place. I decided not to be afraid of it.
My shoulder hurt, my limbs were full of blood. I wished for it to be over. Torture. I would confess. I would welcome the abyss to escape the now pain. Did my father freeze to death? They say it’s painless. How do they know? Do that many people come back from the white light and write up a report? They didn’t remember the pain; it had to hurt, like now.
The tide came in. Water worked on rock to come away with it. Don’t be so rigid about it all. I was rock. Jon had been my water. Water appears sensuous and free, but where would it be without the rock holding it? A formless sea of swells, no crashing white water with bubbles chattering across ancient grains of shell and glass. No updrafts to soar. No tension, no drama. No man, no woman. No Jon, no Hannah. No Margaret, no Chance. Birds landed over my head, scratchy talons. Beaks tapped at the metal roof. A man in L.A. had guard geese that ate the paint off his car.
I tasted good. Mosquitoes came with the night. Geckos came for the mosquitoes. They crawled on the roof. They crawled on me. I could feel each twenty toes, soft nail dents in my cheeks and up my throat. The mosquitoes left me alone when the geckos were standing guard. I was part of a new world order inside a car. I’d thought that thought recently. When? I was a giant in their world. Attack of the fifty-foot woman. I wasn’t angry now.
Rain sluiced down my neck and back, down my legs. I peed warm into the stream. It was embarrassing. I was peeing in the fountain. I didn’t have a choice. It pooled under my feet. Would the car fill with water? Drop? My hair washed forward and stuck to my cheeks. I turned my head and water from the strands ran into my mouth. My head ached.
Troughs filled with moonlight covered the water with a white scarf of sequins that undulated on the sea, then broke into fireworks of silver when it hit the land, leaving sequins strewn over the rocks. Pockets of moon. Jon. Moon. I’d found him fair and square. Celeste left him behind.
The rising sun flared brilliant green fire in Pele’s tear. Pele strength. The chain was buried in my ankle. Would my mother start drinking again when her second daughter died out of turn? It wouldn’t bring me back. I hoped she knew that. I wanted my children to know her. Sometimes I sounded like her.
A tourist helicopter flew by, beating shock waves. They continued on to fly over hikers on the Na Pali Coast trails. I’d hiked there first with Mike. We’d skinny-dipped. Mike was nice. Handsome. Dark. He didn’t have Jon’s water-on-gravel voice. It didn’t wash into my belly. It stayed on the surface.
> Jon was starting to worry. CJ would be hungry. I had nothing to offer him. He will never call me Mama now. I’ll be an abstraction. He’ll say, “My mother was…” and fill in the blanks with the stories he’s told. I’ll be better than I am in his wishes and dreams.
Meggie and I didn’t have initial names. Jon used to call me, H. I wonder if he had called Celeste, C. Chana was CC, for Chana Celeste. She didn’t like it. She wanted her name to herself, to be free of Celeste. Like Celeste and her mother. She can never be free, none of us can. I should have told her it was beautiful instead of being so stingy about Celeste.
The minister will say, “Do you, Chana Celeste Moon, take Adam Chance Spring.” Meggie will be a flower girl who hops down the aisle watching her feet, flowers scattered in her curls. Chance will be walking, still too young to carry their wedding bands. Who will hold him while the rest of the family walks down the aisle? A new wife? Jon won’t be alone long. That was good. She’ll be the newest stranger, except to Jon. There won’t be more babies from Jon. She won’t worry about Celeste. She’ll look at my babies and sense my shadow. I needed to be careful to let sun shine on them so they can grow straight and tall. I smiled. Well, they won’t be tall.
Someone else will French braid Meggie’s hair. Penny will be there. Excuse-Me-Penny will remember walking in on the bride and groom as they walk down the aisle. She’ll be relieved at their marriage. She likes things tidy. Like Celeste.
I would see my father again. I wasn’t twelve anymore. It always felt like he was keeping an eye on me. I wasn’t even embarrassed about that during sex. He was smiling. Except those times with Steve, but that was about hurting me.
Don’t let people hurt you, Meggie. Not like me. Too young. She’ll wonder. What iffs. Chance too, maybe not. I could watch over them. They’ll feel me smile. Tell them nice things, Jon. Please. I loved them. I thought about them. I was watching over them. I could brush against them. Be a breeze in their hair. A swell rolling under their backs while the sun warms their hearts. Slide between their lovers’ hands, gentle the touch. The hands of their children. My grandchildren. It expands. Transforms. Margaret burned through the veil. It was all right there. It’s hard to hold on to the glimpses.
I love Margaret. My grandmother. Thank you forgiveness in the timer. Bettina and Amber happy. I was hoping. I thought. I realized. I wondered. “Canon in D” slack key? Would be sweet. Eyes closed into darkness. Waiting. Not afraid.
Night rain. Stiff neck, work through pain, water dribbles in mouth. Gecko in my eye sitting on a whale. Nails dent plastic. Hello. He licks his eyes. I tilt my head, water on mine. Gummy lashes. He licks my lashes. Tongue across feather. Jon. Look down. Time passes, tide clock hand.
Eyes close pink gold water. Empty breasts. Skin stuck dry bones. No headache. No pain. Quiet mind. Dawn. He smiles and whispers in my ear, “It doesn’t hurt, Hannie.”
NINE
Dog barks.
Barking. Barking. Barking.
Pebbles on my head.
Crackling.
Dog bark pelting my head.
Strange sounds.
“We have your girl,” said the gecko. “She’s alive.”
They can talk? I thought they’d call my name. It’s not white light. Did car hit water? Planes break apart.
“You’re safe, Hannah.”
“Okay.” Lips tear. No sound.
Jon’s voice.
Crack.
“Not talking. I can’t touch her. We’re a twig away from a drop down here.”
Distant voice.
“Rough. Broken nose. Shoulder bad angle. Still strapped in. We need hooks.”
Geckos talking. Bumps. Now.
Soap, sweat, tension. Up my nose. Licking my lids, pulled apart.
“Almost there, Hannah. I’m going to swab your mouth. See if we can get it open. Make it easier to breathe.”
Swabbed lips, teeth, circles inside my lips. Jon’s tongue. I open when I’m hurt. Moist air. Water dribbles. Cracked eyelids. A web of pink water.
Ripstop rustle. Gentle. Hurt. Moist air gone.
“55, racing faint. 80/40.”
Pause. Clicks.
“I can’t see them, they’re behind the steering wheel and a bunch of junk. You see her hand?”
Distant voices.
“Got it doc.”
Rustling.
“Hannah, I’m going to give you something for the pain. Then we’re going for a ride.”
Fingers on neck. Not my gecko. Moist air.
“Stay with me, Hannah.”
“Pregnant.”
“Hang in there. Don’t try to talk. Jon’s up top.”
Jon. Cold going away.
“Okay! Let’s go. Let’s go!”
Dog barking. Barking. Helicopter. Swaying. Stay still. Stay still.
I was in and out. Coming and going. Jon. Words I didn’t know. Worry.
I woke up to him asleep, his head next to my hip.
I woke up looking at the curtain around my bed. It was missing a hook. A whiteboard said my nurse was Robert. A calendar said Monday. The clock said 12:00. There was a sliver of window. It was dark, nighttime. A whole day had gone by.
My legs were elevated in slings; my feet were in tie-dyed socks I thought were mine. A thin line of blood seeped through a bandage around one ankle. My right hand was almost black; my left hand was bandaged. I could wiggle my toes and flex my fingers. I couldn’t flex my left hand in the tight wrapping but my other hand and feet felt like part of the continuum of my body again, not the focus of pain. All I could feel were my limbs in the car. Then my brain had made me a field of pain.
Jon was asleep, slumped in a chair pulled close. He hadn’t shaved. His reading glasses, covered with fingerprints, hung around his neck. His hands rested on an open book in his lap. His hands, so capable, brought nothing but tenderness and joy to me, even over the kitchen table. His feet were on the bed by my hip in blue hospital socks with rubber dots on the bottom. I wanted to massage his feet and clean his glasses and send him home to sleep where his neck wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t touch him. I didn’t want him to leave. I went back to sleep.
∞
A nurse erased Robert and wrote Malina. It was dark out. The clock said 3:00. She ran a thermometer across my forehead, checked monitors and tapped notes into a computer by the bed. She glanced at Jon asleep, then wrote a note: You need anything?
I shook my head.
She wrote: Pain? 1 to 10
I held up two fingers. Then changed it to five after lifting my arm. She pulled a syringe out of her pocket, compared the label to my I.D. bracelet, and shot it into my IV line. Tap tap tap on the computer. She held a straw to my lips, put my hand over the call button, and reset the monitor. I watched her leave. Jon was watching me.
“I’m sorry we woke you up,” I said.
My voice was raspy. I squeezed his toes.
“You should be home,” I said. “You don’t get enough rest.”
He took his feet off the bed, pulled his chair closer, and held my bandaged hand.
“Are the babies okay?” I asked.
“They’re being cared for,” he said. “They need their mother.”
“Did you find someone good on such short notice?”
“Hannah, you were missing for four nights. The whole family was here. Karin was here until we knew you were stable.”
“How are you?” I asked.
“I thought you were gone from us,” he said. “Over a trip to Walmart.”
“I was stupid.”
“I didn’t mean that you were stupid. I don’t mean that at all.”
“Am I going to be okay?”
“Yes. It’s going to take time. You were lucky. A tree stopped you.”
“What kind of tree?”
“I don’t know.”
He told me how they found me. They spent the first two days tracking down the guys with my phone. They answered when Jon called my phone. They said I was partying with them. They
said I was doing all kinds of things with them. The police asked why I’d run away.
Eric and Anna arrived and Eric got into my computer, found my phone-tracking app, and pinpointed the phone at one of the low life locals favorite drinking and shoot the shit beaches. Victor took a posse of relatives and made their presence felt in the crowd down there. Everyone played them until Victor called my phone. It rang in the pocket of the guy with the scarred face. Everyone scattered, but Victor is fast on his feet for a man his size. After that, it took very little encouragement for the guys to tell the story of chasing me down the road. At first they said they were just trying to get me to stop so they could return my phone.
“Maybe they were,” I said. “They didn’t steal it. I got scared when they started cruising me and forgot it on top of the car.”
“They weren’t. They had other plans for you. Victor left it to his cousins to get the story.”
“That’s terrible, Jon.”
“What’s terrible? Their plan to drug you and pass you around for a few days? Or that they’re still alive?”
“Pass me around?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that,” he said. “God. I’m so sorry.”
He tried to hug me but I was rigged up and my nose was splinted.
“I afraid I’ll hurt you more,” he said.
He held my bandaged left hand.
“I need to get you a new ring,” he said. “They trashed yours cutting it off.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that. I would go crazy if it was you. How did you find me?”
“The guys took a guess at how long they followed you. The Search and Rescue teams were out at dawn the next day. They found the skid marks. Where they stopped. They called in divers.”
“I heard a helicopter.”
“A canine team found you. A vet and his German shepherd. That dog climbed halfway down the cliff on your scent. No one could see your car from the road. The dog wouldn’t leave you down there. His handler said trust the dog, so the helicopter did a fly by and saw you. The rappellers went slow, they didn’t want to knock you loose.”
Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon Page 15