Lennox twerked her mouth, not quite smiling but not quite frowning. “I made an appointment for next week.” I looked around at the strewn ribbons and half-eaten pieces of cake, feeling like the last remaining soldier in the battlefield. I knew if I didn’t leave soon I might become another casualty of this war.
“What are you talking about, Lennox?” Vic asked, his voice too low and too calm.
Lennox sighed, frustrated. “I’m talking about what I’ve been trying to talk to you about for months now. I’m not having kids. Ever.”
I stood up slowly, trying to extract myself from the room. As I rose from the couch, I knocked over a bottle of bubbly apple cider. The glass fell to the ground and the contents spilled on the nice wooden floor. I froze, expecting everyone to scramble to clean it up, but they were too far gone in their war to notice one casualty.
I reached for a napkin to clean up the mess.
“You think this is a decision you can make unilaterally?” Vic boomed.
I quickly mopped up the mess, my napkin sopping and my hands now sticky. Vic and Lennox were oblivious to my existence, but I could hear every jagged word they threw at each other and the edges cut me as well.
“You have no fucking clue, Vic!” Lennox threw her hands in the air. “No fucking clue how hard this was for me!”
I tossed the napkin on an empty plate and made a beeline for the door.
“I would if you opened up to me once in a while!” Vic rounded on Lennox, coming at her like two missiles meeting in the sky.
“I try but you don’t want to hear it!” Lennox closed the distance, shoving Vic in the chest. “I don’t trust myself with kids and I certainly don’t trust you to pick up the slack!”
I jiggled the doorknob desperately. Of course the door would be stuck right now. It felt like a mob of zombies was after me and the door was my ticket to safety. It wasn’t a mob of zombies though, it was Lennox and Vic fighting. Their words stung my back like a hive of wasps.
“What the hell does that mean, Lennox?”
“It means you blew up over the dishes being left in the sink last week—”
“Oh come on—”
“And I will not let children be subjected to our fucked up life. If you can’t even control your anger over—”
I slammed the door behind me. A big sigh escaped me, feeling like I’d just escaped a volcanic eruption or something. I pushed off the wooden door, leaving Vic and Lenny’s suffocated shouts behind.
I walked home, grateful for the fresh air. Somehow it always smelled like the ocean here. I didn’t know if it was because I was used to my hometown, which either smelled like broken dreams or an amalgam of dry heat and Mama’s burnt casserole, but here it smelled fresh and clean and happy. Really, it actually smelled happy.
It made me want to be outside. The sea air hugged my skin and made my usually lifeless brown hair bounce. No one bothered me, either. I was used to the prying eyes of my town. Everyone always stared at me. Here people smiled and said “good morning” but they didn’t stare. Back home, people stared. They let their mind be known with their eyes and, usually, their mind wasn’t pretty.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“What—oh, hello.” I stopped walking as a man approached me. He looked normal enough with sandy blond hair, brown eyes, and a blue shirt.
“I’m really sorry, ma’am, but I’m trying really hard to get change for the bus. Can you help me? Anything helps.” The man looked into my eyes, his own pleading. I didn’t have much, but I knew what it was like to have nothing. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. I didn’t usually carry around cash but, having never been to a baby shower, I wasn’t sure what to bring. I didn’t know if we were going to go out or if we gave them cash, hence the five-dollar bill.
“Here you go.” I handed it to him.
He looked at it with surprise. “Thank you, thank you so much. God bless you.” The man walked away, smiling. I felt a little better about the day and myself.
“He just scammed you.”
I looked around to see who was talking and saw a man sitting on the ground—or a young man more like, as he didn’t look older than seventeen. He looked up at me with disinterest, petting the dog next to him with care. He appeared homeless, sitting on a blanket with just his backpack and what appeared to be all he owned: a few books, some dog food, a bowl, some clothing, and a pillow. I’d been him only a few months before.
“What did you say?” I asked, looking away from his items and back to him, not sure I’d heard him right.
“That guy just scammed you, and you fell for it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? He just wanted money for the bus.”
The kid shrugged and looked from me back to his dog, continuing to pet the creature’s head. “Guy comes up here every few minutes, asking people for change. Tourists mostly. You a tourist?” He turned his attention back to me.
I shook my head. “I just moved here.”
“You’re gonna run outta money if you keep giving it to people. Specially people that don’t deserve it.”
“Oh, well.” I shifted, feeling uncomfortable, wishing I could end the conversation. “Thank you for telling me.”
The kid shrugged. “You got any more left?”
“Any what?”
“Money,” the kid responded, his tone exasperated.
I shook my head, starting to get really uncomfortable. “No, sorry, that was the last of it.”
The kid scoffed and muttered something under his breath. With that he was done talking to me. I wasn’t sure if I should apologize or be angry, so I settled on queasy.
It was a few more blocks before I reached the apartment. The kid’s revelation had ruined any buzz giving the guy money had left me. I was back to where I’d been after leaving the shower. Even though it was only evening and the day had a few more hours left in it, I was tired. The minute I entered the apartment I crawled into bed. Lennox’s pronouncement coupled with the baby shower couldn’t help but dredge up old memories. I tried to suppress them, tried to think of anything else, but they surfaced like bloated cadavers in the ponds of my mind.
SIX MONTHS BEFORE
Something was wet.
I rolled over in bed, still groggy, and looked at the time: 3:30 in the morning. I’d fallen asleep just a little over an hour ago. I’d been looking at old pictures of me and Eli—well, crying over old pictures of me and Eli. It had only been six months since I’d made the decision that had changed the course of my and Eli’s life. He still had no idea what I was planning, but his life would be better for it.
He was planning for college now. He had a constant smile on his face because he believed he was planning our future. I didn’t have the courage to tell him we didn’t have a future any more.
Though it was nearly pitch in my room, I could definitely feel a wet spot between my legs. I hadn’t wet the bed since I was five. Okay, that’s a lie. One time when I was about thirteen I wet the bed. I was so embarrassed that I stripped the bed myself and had everything cleaned and washed before Mama and Daddy woke up in the morning. I swung my legs over the bed, prepared to do exactly as I had done then. No one past five wets the bed, or at least no one past five wets the bed and lets people find out.
I stepped out of my bed and made my way to the adjoining bathroom to clean myself off, not wanting to turn the light on, not wanting to see myself. Even if Eli didn’t know yet, I knew. I knew what was coming and every glance in the mirror was a reminder of the choice I’d made.
As my feet crossed the threshold to the bathroom, I felt dampness still seeping down my legs. It was like I was still peeing, only I had no control. Worry and fear enveloped me. What was happening to my body? I quickly rushed into the bathroom and turned on the light, my earlier hesitation no longer mattering.
Blood.
All over my inner thighs, dripping down to my knees and onto the floor. I was wearing only a sleep shirt, so I could clearly see the amount pouring out of m
e. It caked my thighs, knees, and shins, and new blood flowed over the crusty old blood. I had never seen so much blood in my entire life.
“Mama!” I screamed, frozen to the spot, unable to look away from the horror show happening between my legs. “Mama!” I yelled again.
It wasn’t Mama who answered my cries, but Daddy. He came bursting into my room but stopped short when he saw me.
“What the hell have you done?” Daddy thundered.
I shrunk on the spot, still terrified by the blood but now also terrified by Daddy. Mama came rushing in after him.
“Oh,” she gasped.
“What’s happening to me?” I cried. I felt lightheaded and nauseated; I wasn’t sure I could stand much longer. The blood just kept coming and with it, blackish slimy blobs. Am I dying?
Though the red and black blood kept me hypnotized, I faintly caught the sound of Mama dialing on the phone. The cacophonous beeps of her dialing were such stark contrasts to my delirious state of mind.
“Get in the tub,” Mama ordered.
“What?” I turned my head to see Mama, her face white as a sheet.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Mama explained. “They say you need to lie down in the tub.”
I barely registered her order, but I did as she said. I lay down in the tub, placing my arms on the edges, and waited. Waited for them to arrive or waited for death to come. Blood kept flowing like I was a spigot with a broken handle. It was amazing to me the amount of blood I had inside.
“Where’s Daddy?” As soon as I asked the question, I had my answer. I didn’t even to need look at Mama, though her face did say it all. I heard his telltale booming voice from outside my room; he was praying. As his thundering voice filled the bathroom like storm clouds, I was not filled with comfort.
“I command Jezebel to be thrown down and eaten by the hounds of heaven!”
Me. I was Jezebel. In my father’s eyes, I was not to be saved, but to be thrown down and eaten. Even as I lay in the tub, watching my very life essence flow out of me.
“Mama?” I looked up at her ashen face for some kind of comfort. Anything to let me know I didn’t deserve this fate. There was nothing. She turned her face from me as she had turned her face from me my entire life. I waited in the tub for my fate, my blood becoming my bathwater.
As I felt the last of my consciousness slipping away, I heard the front door crash open. Sounds of lifesaving commingled with Daddy’s somber praying.
“I rebuke and bind the spirits of witchcraft, lust, seduction, intimidation, idolatry, and whoredom connected to Jezebel!”
As the paramedics scrambled to get me strapped to the gurney, Daddy’s voice never ceased. His booming, terrible voice a bitter backdrop. He hadn’t moved an inch when the paramedics came rushing in. They had to scurry around him and his praying to try and save me.
When I was fully strapped in, they rushed me out of the bathroom and down the steps. I could hear them murmuring their own prayers, ones of hope, ones that I would make it out alive. I could see the fear on their faces. I could see all of this, but I was long past the point of feeling anything. I was cold and numb.
“I loose the hounds of heaven against Jezebel!”
Daddy’s voice was the last thing I heard before they closed the ambulance doors.
Cotton balls filled my mouth and my head was lead. Where am I? I tried to sit up but everything hurt.
“Gracie? Gracie are you awake?” I recognized the voice as Mama’s.
“Mama? Mama, what’s happening?” I reached my arms out, flailing them in front of me like a zombie, trying to find something solid to hold on to. Mama caught my arm and held on.
I saw sterile, pale blue walls and machines. I was lying in a bed with foreign blankets. Come to think of it, everything looked foreign. Despite being able to recognize my surroundings, it all felt odd. I knew where I was—a hospital—yet it all seemed so strange.
I was experiencing this first person and that wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have been in the hospital bed. I shouldn’t have felt the cold, smooth sheets. I shouldn’t have had the IV in my arm. I shouldn’t have heard the beeping next to my ear. I shouldn’t have seen my name up on the white board next to those of the nurses who were taking care of me.
“Why am I here?” I croaked to Mama.
“Don’t you remember?” Mama looked at me, her eyes worried. She always had a bit of fear in her, a byproduct of Daddy. Daddy was like a ghost that would always haunt us. When she looked at me with only worry and no fear, I wondered what was happening to me.
Was I dying?
And where was Daddy? Why wasn’t he there?
“I…” I thought back, trying to remember everything. The last thing I remembered was being in bed and crying over Eli and the future we would never have. My actions were necessary. If I hadn’t done what I’d done, he never would have left this town. As the months passed and the deadline grew nearer, it was harder to lie to Eli, even harder when we made love.
Eli would go to college and I still hadn’t figured out a way to tell him I was staying behind. It would break his heart, but better he have a broken heart than a broken soul. He’d find someone better than me anyway. Someone worthier.
Which is why I’d done what I’d done. I frowned at the thought, remembering the previous night. I’d gone to bed, tears in my eyes, and…
Blood.
Horror filled my features.
“What happened to me?” I asked Mama, my words barely above a whisper. “Why was there so much blood?” She let go of my hand and leaned back in her chair. Fear filled her features once more. Again the ghost haunted us. Apparently whatever had happened to me was something Daddy did not approve of. That was a long list in and of itself, so it didn’t help narrow down the prospects.
Mama and I sat in silence, the only sound the beeping of the monitors. I stared across at the blue wall for a while, trying to think of what could have caused me to bleed so much. I cursed the fact that we had no internet in our house. I cursed the fact that my homeschooling was really home-brainwashing. If it wasn’t for Eli, I’d have been completely dumb.
I imagine most people in my situation would know exactly what had happened to them. Me, though, I had no idea. My “anatomy” class had entailed Daddy telling me which parts of my body were unclean. It wasn’t until Eli that I learned about the internet and through that I learned about the brain and bones. Still, I had no idea what was happening to me.
If Daddy had let them take me to a hospital, it must have been serious. If Daddy refused to see me, it must have meant I was unclean.
“Gracie,” Mama whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” I replied, eyes closed.
“I got you this.” A light weight landed on my abdomen, which shouldn’t have hurt but did. I didn’t want to think about what was wrong with me. If I was dying, so be it. Not like I had much to live for anyway. I flinched, opening my eyes to see what had injured me.
“The Handmaid’s Tale,” I said aloud. By Margaret Atwood. I inspected the book like I always did. Every book Mama gave me was magic. I never knew what it would be or when she was going to give me one. How she got them was just as mysterious. I reached out to hug her, but cringed in pain. Mama patted my hand with affection and then stood up, as if to leave.
“Where are you going?” I looked around the unfamiliar sterile environment with fear.
“I gotta go home for a few hours, check up on Daddy, but you’ll be okay for a bit right?”
I nodded, not believing my own nod for a minute.
I stayed up all night reading the book. Mama didn’t come back to the hospital that night and she wasn’t there the next morning when the doctors came into talk to me.
I learned that I’d already been in the hospital for a day and had slept that entire day. Apparently I’d lost a lot of blood—like a lot of blood—and nearly died. I thought they wanted me to be more scared or something, because they kept telling me how much blood I had
lost. Death didn’t scare me though. Death meant freedom.
I thought The Handmaid’s Tale might be my favorite book. I’d never said that before, never actually chosen a favorite book, because in choosing a favorite book it’s like choosing a favorite child. The Handmaid’s Tale, though, was different than the rest.
While the other books transported me away from my circumstances and allowed me to forget where I was, The Handmaid’s Tale made me aware. It made me aware of just how different I was and how wrong my situation was, but it didn’t make me feel bad for it. I wasn’t sure what to do with the information, but it sat in my belly like a fire and I knew that fire would never burn out.
I knew I needed to learn to control the fire.
The Handmaid’s Tale rested on the nightstand next to my hospital bed. There was a knock on the door and I almost wanted it to be Daddy. I wanted Daddy to come in and see the book because right then I was begging for a fight, but I knew it wouldn’t be him, because Daddy never knocked. It was the doctor, along with three other doctorly looking people. I shrugged deeper into the bed, trying to prepare myself for bad news.
“This is a teaching hospital, Ms. Wall.” Dr. McClintock, who I’d come to know as my doctor, gestured to three submissive looking people behind her. “The three behind me are students and I would like for them to sit in while we discuss, so they can learn. You can elect not to have them here, if that makes you more comfortable.”
I was only wearing the papier-mâché feeling gown and they were all dressed in nice pants with white coats. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered and the fact that they were standing over me was not lost on my psyche. Still, I wasn’t sure removing the three awkward looking students was going to help much.
“It’s fine,” I muttered.
“Very good.” Dr. McClintock pulled up a chair and took a seat next to me. “Do you know why you’re here, Ms. Wall?”
Let Me Go (Owned Book 2) Page 8