Little Sacrifices

by Scott, Jamie

  ‘No,’ Jim protested. ‘I want May to stay. Please, May.’ I shrugged and sat down on one of the armchairs across from Cecile. Jim sat in the other one.

  ‘Hi, Mom.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘This is my friend, May.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, May.’

  ‘Hi Missus ... uh, hi.’ I finished lamely. She was beautiful, I mean really beautiful. Her skin was nearly transparent, with a little pink circle on each cheek to suggest good health. Her eyes were Jim’s color, but where his snapped with interest, hers suggested a world–weariness beyond her age.

  ‘Jim, why did you come?’

  ‘To talk to you. I thought it was time to talk.’

  ‘Why now?’

  ‘Well, I thought Aunt Belle’s funeral would have been a good time. But you didn’t come.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter. What did you want to talk about?’

  ‘Mom–’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  Jim’s face worked over his emotions. ‘What am I supposed to call you?’

  ‘Whatever you want. Except that.’

  ‘Aren’t you my mom?’

  ‘Your Nan raised you. She was the mother to you.’

  ‘But you gave birth to me. Didn’t you?’ I wanted to hold his hand. My poor friend no longer had any idea what was real in his world. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Of course I did. Look, I just don’t think it’s right. Given our past.’

  ‘We don’t have a past.’

  ‘That’s what I mean.’ She looked over her shoulder out the window, the window Mirabelle sat in for hours contemplating her future.

  ‘Fine. Whatever you want. I thought we should talk, because I know all about, what happened.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, May’s parents bought Aunt Belle’s house last year, and she found her diaries. And your letters. So I know everything.’

  ‘You read my letters?’ She stared at me. I wanted to dissolve into the chair.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I, I didn’t know who any of the people were, until later.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘Don’t shout at her!’ Jim yelled. ‘You don’t have the right to shout at anyone. She’s my friend. I told her she was wrong to snoop, but she was right to tell me. So don’t blame her.’

  ‘So you know,’ she said finally.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘M– Cecile, it isn’t as bad as you think. May found out something that you don’t know.’

  Tears slipped down her cheek. ‘What?’

  ‘Nan isn’t your mother.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘She’s not your mother. Grandpa Julius wasn’t your father.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Jim told her as gently as he could. He left nothing out, colored nothing with emotion. When he finished, Cecile could only look at her son, dumfounded.

  ‘So you see?’ Jim said. ‘Everything’s different now. It’s all okay.’

  ‘What, exactly, is different?’

  ‘Well, you are. You didn’t do what... you thought you did. It’s okay.’

  ‘Jim. I’m sorry, but nothing’s changed.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘But it has!’ His voice squeaked. ‘You can come back now.’

  ‘May? I’d like to talk to Jim alone. Can you excuse us, please?’

  ‘Sure thing.’ It was unbearably painful to watch Jim’s hopes crash around his ears. ‘I’ll just go for a walk around. It’s safe, isn’t it?’ Cecile assured me it was, as long as I stayed to the right. I left them alone to pick over the scars of their family history.

  Listening to Jim talk about the past made me keen to find Henry’s house. He was, after all, Jim’s grandfather. I remembered the address and, with the map’s help, found it no more than ten minutes away. Henry’s ancestral home was a yellow brick marvel, with two story high pillars supporting the portico and a wide terrace running all around the house. I bet it had a dozen bedrooms. Seeing the house made me sad for Mirabelle. Her decision not to tell them that Cecile existed made me sadder still. Had she braved the confrontation, she might not have lived her life dependent on her own family, who’d hurt her so. But then, I reminded myself, Jim wouldn’t be around, and I was too selfish to wish for that. I resisted the impulse to knock on the door. Even if Henry’s family still lived there, they were unlikely to care after so long. Besides, I had even less proof of the tale than Mirabelle had. I stood in front, thinking about how much could change in two generations. Even in this neighborhood, there were only a few houses that weren’t dilapidated, their owners the last line of defense against the tide of decay. Many of the spacious lawns were strewn with unwanted appliances – old fashioned washboards, buckets and iceboxes rusting away on the untended plots. Hardly anyone bothered with flowers, though judging by the remnants of box hedges, there must have been tremendous gardens in Mirabelle’s day. Only dandelions nodded their cheery faces in the tall grass, oblivious to the rubbish surrounding them. I welled up looking at the faded homes, thinking of the families who’d built them only to see them destroyed, not by some man–made or even natural disaster, but through disregard.

  Jim was sitting on the porch steps when I got back. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘How’d it go?’

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘No reason to hang around.’ He kicked at the sidewalk. ‘Anne said there’s a hotel a couple blocks away. We can get a taxicab there.’

  ‘Was she mad?’

  ‘Of course. Wouldn’t you be mad if you’d been lied to your whole life by people you thought were your parents?’

  ‘Hey, don’t get sore at me. I was just asking. At least she’ll be able to come back to Savannah now.’

  He mumbled something.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I said no she won’t.’

  ‘What do you mean? Now that she knows everything...’

  ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’

  ‘Jim you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?’

  ‘My Nan made her leave.’

  ‘Big deal. She can come back if she wants to. Surely.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m trying to. If you’d tell me the whole story, maybe I would.’

  ‘Fine.’ He puffed out his cheeks. ‘First, she doesn’t want to, so that’s that. But that doesn’t matter anyway, because even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. She says Nan knew about them. She knew what Julius was... doing. Even so, Nan never told Cecile that Aunt Belle was her mother, that Julius wasn’t really her father. She used her guilt to make her leave Savannah, and made her promise never to come back.’

  ‘But why can’t she break her promise–’

  ‘If you’d let me finish.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘She made her promise never to come back. As long as she stays away, Nan doesn’t have to worry about what happened getting out. Nan promised to leave me everything, everything that her parents left to her, as long as Cecile never comes back.’

  ‘So she’s bribing your mom to stay away?’ My estimation of Missus Rumer slid even lower.

  ‘She’s holding my future over her head,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘Jim. You don’t need the money, do you? Surely it isn’t more important to you than your family?’

  He was quiet.

  ‘Jim?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘It’s not the money is it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Remember I told you that I was going to move back into our family house someday? The one on the square? That can’t happen if Nan doesn’t leave it to me.’

  I was starting to see. It wasn’t his future t
hat Jim was keeping safe. It was his past.

  ‘So you’re going to keep up with the charade until she dies? Is that your plan?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Well I think that’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t do it if I were you.’

  ‘You’re not me.’

  ‘Do you hate her now?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your Nan.’

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘She’s not my mother. She’s nobody.’

  In one fell swoop, the Nancy Hanks made an orphan of Jim. There was no derailment, or tragic accident on the tracks, for the newspapers to report. Eyewitnesses were confined to a close friend and family. Prognosis for survivors wasn’t good. I didn’t put much stock in relatives myself, having few to call my own, but Jim’s experience made me appreciate my folks a little bit. Through carelessness they often did me damage, but zealous and single–minded though they were, at least they’d never hurt me on purpose.

  Our abbreviated trip put us in a bind. The train got us back to Savannah at midnight, with nowhere to sleep. We couldn’t go home when we were supposed to be with Fie’s family. We had no choice but to bunk down in the park. We weren’t the only ones with the idea. Dark forms distorted the flat landscape. ‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,’ I ventured.

  ‘Aw, don’t be a scaredy cat. No one’s going to bother you. Everyone’s here for the same reason.’

  That wasn’t quite true, based on the muffled groans and sighs coming from more than one lump. But at least no one wanted to be disturbed. We found a spot near the south end of the park, closest to home. We covered the wet grass with our jackets, mindful that they didn’t touch. I stifled a giggle at the irony of protecting my virtue. Talk about shutting the barn door after the horse got out.

  Jim cried most of the night. He did it low down, as quiet as he could. He was curled away from me, his shoulders hunched against the night’s chill. He didn’t want me to comfort him. What he did want was to rewind the past. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t manage to do that for him.

  When we went home the next afternoon Jim got an earful from his Nan, just like he figured he would. The fresh breeze blowing through our screens carried their argument beautifully.

  ‘James Earl Rumer, what has come over you? A year ago you wouldn’t have disobeyed me.’

  ‘A year ago, Nan, I didn’t have any friends, either.’

  ‘Well at least you were respectful then. I don’t approve of that May’s influence on you. I’ve a good mind to forbid you to see her any more. I don’t think she comes from good people.’

  ‘Nan, don’t say that.’

  ‘Jim, it isn’t proper for girls and boys to be so friendly. In my day it wasn’t done. Why can’t you make friends with the other boys?’

  ‘Because we share a mutual dislike for each other.’

  ‘Nonsense, you’re just not trying. How can anyone not like you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Nan. I’m lousy at baseball. I’m lousy at football. I can name every composer since the sixteenth century but I can’t swing dance. I just don’t understand why everyone doesn’t think I’m the cat’s pajamas.’

  ‘Don’t get fresh with me, young man. And don’t you dare blame me because you’ve had no father to raise you. I did the best I could all by myself. If you want to blame someone, I suggest you look at your mother. She cheated you out of a father, not me. You’ll do well to remember that.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Nan, I won’t forget.’

  Chapter 34

  I snuck to the midwife’s place on Friday. Dora Lee said Ozzie lived in Tin City. The dwellings couldn’t be called houses; many were nothing more than ragged pieces of scrap tin, tarpaper and wood, nailed together to form a vaguely boxlike structure no more than ten feet square. The more prosperous tenants like Ozzie had caricatures of homes – a porch maybe, supported by a rusty mattress frame, or a gabled roof that, upon closer inspection, was built from nothing more than burlap sacks.

  ‘Excuse me? Hello?’ I knocked on the bare door.

  ‘Yeah? You lookin’ for Ozzie?’ A grizzly–haired man barked from the murky interior.

  ‘Yes, sir. Is she here?’

  He shuffled sideways to make way for me. After the bald sunlight, I was blind inside. ‘Ozzie! Company!’

  Ozzie’s round face was the color of mocha, with alert green eyes set deep in her head. ‘Hello. Did Dora Lee send you?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  I hesitated. ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I just wanna have something to call you, that’s all. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine by me.’

  ‘I’m May.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, May. Let’s go out back and we’ll get started, while there’s plenty of day left.’

  I thought she meant the back yard. I was glad when she led me to a lean–to off the kitchen. The room was bare, save for a mattress on the floor. As meager as it was, at least it looked clean. ‘Now, May, let me tell you a little bit about me, to put your mind at ease. I’ve been birthin’ babies for over twenty years.’ She must have started in her teens. ‘And I’ve been helping women with their problems for almost as long. My mother taught me, and she was about the most respected midwife in town, so you don’t need to worry about anything.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ I ventured.

  ‘Sure you can.’

  ‘Is it going to hurt?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Well, I’ll tell you this. It won’t hurt as much as having the baby.’

  ‘I mean, do you use anything? For the pain?’

  ‘Oh that. Sure I do. You breath in a few drops of this ether here, fall asleep, and it’s over before you know it.’

  ‘But afterwards? Will there be pain?’

  ‘Most likely.’

  ‘Can you give me something then?’

  ‘Naw, May, I’m not a doctor, so I can’t prescribe medicine. You’ll be fine. There’ll be some cramps, like during your time of the month. A hot water bottle’ll help.’

  ‘Can I see what you’re going to use?’

  ‘Psh, you’re sure an odd duck. Suit yourself.’ She ambled to a ledge where a leather case sat. Inside were a number of tools. ‘What are these for?’

  ‘They open your cervix. You know what that is?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘It’s at the top of, never mind. It’s inside, like a muscle. It holds the baby in your womb.’

  I pointed to a long handled instrument. ‘And this... gets everything out?’

  ‘Yes. It’s really a simple thing. And I’ve been doing this a long time, so you don’t need to worry.’ She put her hand on the top of my head. ‘Okay?’

  ‘I guess so.’ I was there for one reason. There was no use in talking myself out of it when there wasn’t any alternative. Again I searched my conscience for guilt, and found none. No matter how many times I read about Mirabelle’s excitement over her pregnancy, I was unable to stir up any emotions of my own. Some might argue that having no religion was the reason, but I believe it had more to do with anger at getting into the mess in the first place. More than anything, I was eager to put an end to the whole sorry drama.

  I had to take my panties and shoes off while Ozzie covered me with a blanket. ‘Just relax now. You’ll be asleep before you know it.’ My last memory was of the sharp, sweet smell of ether. I heard a vague humming that I couldn’t place, like the buzz under electrical lines. Suddenly my chest bloomed with lightness, as if filled with a delicate meringue. I wasn’t aware of my hands, fingers, anything but the froth around my heart. Then a sleepiness overcame me. It was the sensation of making yourself stare into the distance, your vision unfocused. Peaceful. Floating. Without feeling anything, I knew that Ozzie was touching me. I heard voices, many voices, singing. The choir was beautiful but indistinct. My mind was crystal clear. As if on the deck of
a ship, I rocked with strong ocean swells. Gravity pushed me subtly to and fro, the rhythm pulling me deeper into sleep. Everything felt just fine.

  I came to with a stinging throat, sharp pain in my side and no idea where I was. There was a terrible cloying smell in the room. I tried to sit up but had trouble moving my legs. ‘No, May, lay down. Keep still, child.’

  ‘Dora Lee?’ I realized that there was something jammed between my legs. ‘What are you doing here? What’s wrong?’ I croaked.

  ‘You’re bleeding, honey. Ozzie’s trying to get it to stop, that’s all.’

  ‘Am I okay?’

  Ozzie’s legs came into view. ‘Of course you are. I just want you to keep still for a while longer, until the bleeding stops.’

  A headache was gathering strength. ‘It hurts. My stomach hurts. And I’m dizzy.’

  ‘That’s the ether. And that’s not your stomach. Remember I told you there’d be cramps?’

  ‘Ozzie,’ Dora Lee said, ‘it’s not stopping.’

  The room faded again, leaving just the pain. It felt like Ozzie had shoveled coals into my gut. I realized I was screaming, but I couldn’t make myself stop. Dora Lee had tears on her face as she hauled me from the mattress. ‘Honey, I’m sorry. But you’ve got to get into the truck. Come on, now, I know it hurts but you got to.’

  I slumped on the seat and tucked my knees to my chest. It helped some. My dress was covered with blood. The smell made me queasy. ‘Where are we going? I’m sorry, Dora Lee, please don’t take me home. Ma can’t know.’

  ‘You stupid girl! Why didn’t you tell me? Stupid girl.’

  ‘Am I gonna die?’

  She crossed herself furiously. ‘No, don’t say that. I’m taking you to the hospital. They’ll help you.’

  She drove straight to Candler Hospital where Duncan had been patched up. She shouted out the window as she approached the front door. ‘Someone help me with this child!’

  They got me on to a gurney and in front of a doctor. Dora Lee gave him all the particulars. I could do no more than groan. I felt the sticky warmth between my legs. My back was wet with it. It was like watching a movie. I sympathized with the actress.

  ‘Damn ignorant niggers!’ The doctor shouted at Dora Lee. ‘When will you learn? You can’t just butcher girls like this. It’s against the law, for one thing. Was it you?’