Mornings now. I would make little effort to get up. Mommy brought the "baby's breakfast" to me. and I remained in bed until almost midday. I began to hate going downstairs because it meant I would have to walk up. Mommy warned me about being too lazy.
"It's going to make everything harder for the baby," she said. She didn't mention how it would harder for me. Everything was the baby, the baby.
She didn't seem to notice or care that all this time while I was confined to the house, my hair grew longer and longer until it was down to the base of my neck. When I knew it was safe because she was busy downstairs. I would go into her room and look at myself in her vanity mirror. I imagined my hair even longer and envisioned how I might cut and style it. Every day, however. I anticipated her realizing and taking the scissors to me.
I tried to keep the baby's kicking a secret. The truth was, it frightened me. One afternoon, however. I had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room, and the baby's kick woke me with such a jerk. I cried out. She put down her knitting (she was making the baby a hat and gloves) and walked over to me to place her hand on my stomach. She waited, and then her face lit up with more brightness than I had seen in her face for years.
"Its almost time." she said. "It's almost time."
I rarely if ever thought about the impending birthing. It was more as if I believed I would be the way I was forever and ever. The fetus within would never leave me. I tried to learn as much as I could from the books we had in the house, but it was still quite a mystery for me.
The first time I felt a labor pain. I screamed so hard and so shrilly. I frightened myself. Mommy came running. I was in the kitchen, seated at the table, sipping some tea. The cup fell from my fingers and shattered. I thought she would yell about that, but she didn't seem to care or notice as soon as she realized what had occurred.
She made me walk even when the pain began again. She led me up the stairs and to my room, where she had me lie down. The labor pains stopped after a few more minutes, however, and life returned to what it was. I hesitate to say normal. It was so different from what had been my life, even after Noble's tragic death.
The next time the labor pains came, they were accompanied by something even more frightening to me: a stream of water running down my leg. I was standing the hallway. and I couldn't move an inch forward or an inch backward. Mommy had been outside. She entered the house and saw what was happening immediately.
At first she started me for the stairway, but the pain was so intense now. I couldn't lift my feet to climb the steps, so she turned me into the living room instead. She had me lie down on the sofa, and then she smiled and said. This is amazing. I just remembered that my great-grandmother Elsie gave birth to my grandfather on this very sofa. There wasn't even time for the doctor to come, and no time to get her to any hospital. Do you sense her?" she asked me with that same far-off look in her eyes. It was eerie. It was as if she was looking at a face behind my face, and all I had was a mask,
All I sensed was excruciating pain anyway. I grimaced and cried out.
It will be all right." she said, and she went for towels and hot water and one of her herbal
concoctions. I heard her mumble about it being something her grandmother had created. I swallowed two tablespoons of it. but I didn't think it did much of anything. The pain only grew worse.
I don't know how long I was screaming. I know my throat became scratchy and my voice hoarse. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point when I awoke. I saw the living room was filled with members of our spiritual family. They were all sitting or standing calmly, talking softly and watching me. Behind one of my uncles, more in the doorway, was Noble, looking frightened, I thought.
On and on my labor went. Mommy wiped my face with a warm wet cloth, but did little else. And then, right after nightfall, with darkness closing around our house as if some giant had dropped a black sheet over it and the windows. I saw the relatives drawing closer.
"Push," Mommy screamed. "Push, push. push."
I did, and again she screamed, and again I did it. The room turned red. I thought I was looking through some crimson veil at everything and everyone. Even Mommy's face was as bright scarlet. I heard a cheer and a cry of joy, and then there was the sound of a baby's cry.
Mommy worked quickly to cut and tie the umbilical cord. Noble, who had edged closer and closer, stood with his eyes so big, they looked like they would explode. Mommy held the baby up for all to see. I saw that it had a full head of red hair. Elliot's red hair.
"It's a girl!" she declared.
And then she turned and carried the baby away in her arms, wrapped in a blanket. I heard her going up the stairs. The entire roomful of spiritual relatives followed. Even Noble left. and I was alone.
I fell asleep, or really passed out, and when I awoke, I could see the first light of morning. Every part of me ached. I ached in places I didn't know I could. Mommy came in with a tray and put it on the small table she had brought beside the sofa.
"You have to eat," she said. "I need you to be healthy and strong."
"Where's the baby? How is the baby?" I asked quickly.
She didn't answer. She left me and went up the stairs. I drank the juice and ate the oatmeal and the toast. Just as I finished. Mommy returned. She was carrying something very strange.
"What is that. Mommy?" I asked immediately as she pulled a chair up beside me.
"Unbutton your shirt." she said instead of answering. "Quickly."
I did as she asked, and she leaned forward and pulled it apart so my breasts were fully exposed. Then she brought the strange thing to my right breast and fitted it over my nipple.
"Just lie back and relax," she said.
She began to pump the bag. and I watched as my milk filled the bottles she attached. At one point I cried out that it was painful, and she went easier and slower. When she was finished, she stood up and turned to leave me again.
"Where is the baby?" I asked.
"Just rest," she told me.
She didn't return for hours. I rose and moved about the room and then. when I heard her coming down the stairs. I went to the foot of them and looked up.
"Go back to the sofa!" she ordered. "I told you to rest."
"But I wanted to see the baby," I said.
"Not now." she told me, and she physically turned me away from the stairway.
She made me stay in the living room to have my lunch and even my dinner. I wanted to go up to my room, but she told me I couldn't climb the stairs yet. Periodically, over the following few days, she brought back the pump and filled the bottles with my milk.
One night I rose and went quietly up the stairway. I wanted to change my clothing, to bathe and freshen up. I saw that her bedroom door was closed. I listened, and then I went into my room, took a shower, and chanced into a fresh pair of pajamas. I saw no reason why I couldn't sleep in my own bed now. and I did just that.
In the morning she came rushing into my room, her face full of rage.
"I told you to stay downstairs," she cried at me. I wasn't even fully awake.
I around the sleep out of my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows. She was hovering over me and looking so furious and so strange. I was
frightened,
"I needed to get clean and I wanted to sleep in my own bed. Mommy." I said.
"I don't want you up here. Get dressed and go back downstairs." she told me.
I heard the baby crying. Can I see the baby first?"
"No." she said. "Go downstairs!" she screamed. Then she left the room.
After I dressed in a fresh shirt, underwear, and pants. I went out and paused in the hallway. Her bedroom door was shut tight again. I waited a moment, and then I went downstairs and fixed myself some eggs and toast. I was very hungry. She appeared and made inc take some of her pills again.
"Why can't I see the baby, Mommy?" I asked her, but she didn't reply.
Later that afternoon, she did a very strange thing. She wheele
d the old television set into the living room and hooked it up. I watched in
amazement. Suddenly, my watching television didn't matter. She was no longer worried about what harm it could do to my studies or anything.
"Amuse yourself" she said. She made it sound like an order. Then she left me again. For days afterward, she continued to bar me from going upstairs. She brought clothing down to the living room for me. She insisted that I eat my meals there. And periodically, she brought in the pump.
She spent little or no time with me, barely speaking to me when she was around. I was desperate to see the baby, of course, and not seeing her filled me with a painful emptiness. but I realized there was something more.
Ever since the baby's birth. I had not seen Noble, nor any other family spirit. Even the soft sound of whispering was gone. When I turned off the television set, except for the sounds of Mommy moving around above me or the baby's crying when I could hear it muffled by the walls, there was cemetery quiet. Every corner of the house, every shadow, was empty. With Mommy ignoring me except when she wanted to pump my milk or when she brought me something to eat. I was never more alone, and my desperation to see the baby grew stronger and stronger until I could think of nothing else.
Hours at a time. I'd wait to hear the sound of the baby's voice, and when I heard Mommy's footsteps on the stairway. I rose eagerly, praying that she was finally carrying the baby down for me to see, but she never did.
On the one day Mommy left the house to get things she needed. I went upstairs and hurried to her bedroom door. I heard the baby. She wasn't crying, but I could hear her making baby sounds. I tried the doorknob, but found the door was locked. It was frustrating and brought tears to my eyes. I tried to talk to the baby through the keyhole and even tried to get a glimpse of her, but I saw nothing that way.
When I heard Mommy drive up. I hurried downstairs again. I offered to carry in the groceries for her, but she told me to just return to the living room. She didn't want my help.
"But I'm going crazy in there. Mommy. I need to have things to do. Why can't I see the baby? Why can't I help you?"
She didn't respond. She worked on putting away her groceries, and then she went upstairs. I returned to the living room. where I sulked and stared blankly at the television set. Even though it was a novelty for me. I was unable to keep myself from thinking about the baby and what Mommy was doing with her upstairs. I saw that it was taking a toll on her as well. She looked more tired, more haggard, every passing day.
And all this time, not a vision, not a voice, nothing. I began to wonder again if I had ever seen or heard anything spiritual. It had all been a
hallucination. something Mommy had caused with her secret potions. maybe. Noble spoke to me only in my mind, after all. It was just my conscience or my fears. I was not special. I had inherited no powers. Perhaps Mommy finally realized that, and that was why she was being so indifferent to me now.
Finally, a good two and a half weeks after the baby had been born. Mommy came downstairs, prepared my supper, served it to me, and then went to have her own. I ate and listened hard because sometimes I could hear the baby's cries better now.
Sure enough, she began to cry and then cry harder. I anticipated seeing Mommy come quickly down the hallway and go up the stairs. It did no good to follow her because she would turn on the steps and chase me back. This evening, however, she did not come down the hallway and hurry up the stairs at the sound of the baby's crying.
I rose and cautiously entered the dining room. I saw her sitting at the table, only she had her head down on her arms and she was fast asleep. Taking the greatest care I could. I tiptoed up to her, and then as gently as I was able to. I put my hand into her apron pocket and brought out the key to her bedroom. She didn't budge. I saw her breathing remained regular. subdued. She was in a deep sleep. Perhaps she had passed out just as she had once done when she had gone to see our attorney. I couldn't help but take advantage of this great opportunity.
I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could down the hallway and then up the stairs. At the top of the stairway. I paused to be sure she had not waken. All was quiet below, but the baby was crying harder behind the locked door of Mommy's bedroom. I inserted the key and entered.
Mommy had set up a crib right beside her bed. Her bed was unmade, and her room was messier than I had ever seen it. It was actually in disarray: clothing scattered about, diapers piled on the vanity table, some dishes with food from days before lying on tables, and even some dishes on the floor.
I went quickly to the crib and looked down at the baby. For a moment I thought something was wrong with her, and then I realized what it was.
Her hair was dyed my color. She was no longer a redhead. I got over the shock of it quickly and lifted her into my arms. It was obvious she was hungry. I glanced around to see if Mommy had left any bottles, and then I thought, how stupid.
I opened my shirt and brought her lips to my nipple, and she began to feed, her eyes on me with what I thought was great excitement and contentment. It brought a smile to my face. I sat in the chair beside the crib and watched her suckle.
Shortly after. I felt a dark shadow fall over us. and I looked up to see Mommy standing in the doorway. She looked angry enough to lunge at me, but she didn't move.
She just watched and waited for the feeding to end.
Then she walked calmly across the room and gently took the baby out of my arms, cupping her in her own. Her face blossomed with happiness.
I was trembling inside, but she didn't notice. She never even looked at me. She rocked the baby in her arms until the baby's eyes closed, and then she placed her back in the crib and covered her little body with the tiny pink blanket.
I stood up and watched over her shoulder. Finally, she turned and looked at me.
"You have to go back to your room," she said. "and wait until you're needed."
"But Mommy... the baby's hair. Why did you dye it a different color?"
She shook her head as if she had hear pure gibberish and smiled at me.
"I didn't dye her hair. silly."
"But... it was redder. It was--"
"Of course it wasn't," she said sharply and turned me to walk me out of the bedroom.
She practically pushed me into the hallway and started to close the door.
"Mommy, why are you keeping me away from her?" I bawled, my eyes awash in tears.
She held the door halfway closed and gazed out at me for a long moment.
"It's just not time for you to be with her yet."
"But there's so much more to do. Don't we... shouldn't we... I mean, she has no name."
Mommy smiled.
"Of course she has a name. Noble,' she said.
She started to close the door again. I put my hand out, and she looked at me.
"What's her name?" I asked. "Her name's Celeste," she said. And she closed the door.
Epilogue
Welcome Home
.
Not long after Mommy stopped using the pump
and the baby was put on Mommy's special formula -- the formula she had used for both Noble and me -- I was able to tighten the corset around myself well enough to hide my curves and bosom again. I did not lose weight quickly, and only a few pounds at that after all. My face was still chubby. I wasn't happy about it. but I could see Mommy was pleased. She even told me to go up to her room and cut my hair.
I sat for almost an hour staring at myself in her vanity mirror, dreaming of my hair flowing freely down the back of my neck like some of the women I had read about and had seen on television. Finally. she called up to me because she wanted something done. so I had to bring the scissors to my long strands, chopping away until my hair was close again and the fantasy gone She wanted me to help her with baby Celeste. and I was afraid if I didn't do exactly what she asked me to do, she wouldn't let me near the baby.
In time she permitted me to hold Celeste or feed her and change her by myself.
&n
bsp; "It's no shame for a big brother to help out she said.
It didn't matter what she said as long as I could do it. Those hours were my happiest. I was pleased just to be in the same room and watch the baby sleep.
As soon as the red would start to get more prominent in the baby's hair, Mommy would wash in her dye, and it would be returned to my color. Usually she did it at night after I had gone to sleep. No one else would have known anyway. Even though no one other than the postman or a utility man came to our farm. Mommy was very careful about when she would take baby Celeste outside. No one in the world but us knew she had been born.
"When the time comes, we'll reveal her," Mommy said and added. "when they tell me."
Everything we did in our lives now emanated from those famous three words: they told me. New ideas, changes, anything and everything, came to us from the whispers that rained down from clouds only Mommy could see. I hadn't seen or heard anything from the spiritual world for so long, it all lodged in the back of my mind like some dream I had years and years ago, and I began to suspect more and more that it was all just hallucinations.
Together in our secret world. Mommy and I watched baby Celeste grow stronger and more alert. When she began to crawl and be at things constantly. Mommy gave me more and more to do with her until I was spending most of my day minding her.
There were some close calls when the man who read our electric meter monthly almost saw her and then when we had a seed delivery and the driver surely heard her crying.
But no one came to inquire about her. I used to think about the Fletchers, who still lived next to us, and how surprised Mr. Fletcher would be if he ever learned he was a grandfather. Would he be angry or happy about it?
Baby Celeste was certainly a beautiful baby. How could anyone not be happy about her? She had the same blue-green eyes. which Mommy expected her to have and which helped support what she had been told, of course. I could see baby Celeste wasn't just alert. too. She was bright and very curious about everything she saw or heard. When she stood up and then tottered, but then stood up again and again until she could do it well enough to take a step at eleven months. Mommy was convinced she was a blessed child.
Celeste Page 34