by Randi Pink
34 Weeks
The moon had settled overtop the swing set where the Midnight Boys sat laughing and kicking rocks at each other. Her best friend, Sue, had given them that name. It was perfect, and Missippi was grateful to be able to call them something other than the boys on the swings. It made them more real. Before they were just stray kids without mamas and papas to make them go to sleep at a reasonable time. Now they were the Midnight Boys, guardians of the playground. Defenders of the monkey bars and jungle gym.
Everyone else in the apartment was sleeping, and she kept peeking over at Sue, wishing she’d wake up and talk to her. Missippi never thought for a second she’d have a white best friend who loved a man called Johnny Cash and flowers and Joan Baez. Carried around a guitar and hated the war more than Missippi had ever seen anybody hate anything in her whole life. Papa had always told her not to be a follower, but the more Sue told her about that war, the more Missippi was beginning to hate it, too.
Sue had told her about the little Vietnamese kids, even younger than her, being hurt and killed by the president. Before Sue, Missippi hadn’t spent too long thinking about the president. She’d seen him on television a few times, looking all stiff and mean. To Missippi, he looked like a blockhead who never wanted to smile, and when he did, his lips seemed to be pulled up by rubber bands. Back in Valdosta, Missippi knew of a bunch of boys who’d come back from the war all twisted in the mind, but she had other things to worry about. Still, it seemed like Sue’s whole life was Nixon and Vietnam kids and marching around with that guitar. Her life was an adventure, and all Missippi ever wanted to do was shut her mouth and listen to it.
In the quiet, Missippi heard her babies loud and clear. They fought a lot on the inside. Mostly for space. Whenever they started fighting, Missippi gave them a poke, and they’d stop. That made her feel like a mama telling her young’uns what was what. Her stomach stretched out so much that she couldn’t see her feet or knees or the ground a few feet in front of her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was walking on her belly.
Every morning, the rest of them were awed at how big she’d gotten overnight. She was by far the biggest. Mary’s and Lillian’s bellies looked like soccer balls, while Sue’s could still hide under a big nightshirt. Missippi’s, on the other hand, was two basketballs big, maybe two and a half now. Three!
Lying in was easy, though. Ms. Pearline took her pulse so many times a day and listened to the heartbeats all the time. She’d always end with asking how she felt. Missippi felt just fine, but nobody believed her. She’d tell them the truth, no pain or itching or anything, and they all gave her the same look. Like she must be hurting and pretending not to be.
Ms. Pearline called her high risk, which Missippi took to mean two babies were a danger. One time, while she was taking heartbeats, Ms. Pearline told her about problems like thin blood, heart issues in the mama, and premature delivery.
That last one had shaken Missippi, since that pretty little wig-snatching, hollering monster of a baby back home named Daisy was a premature girl. She wondered if all premature babies were snake mean like Daisy. Then she prayed in her mind that her babies came right on time. Poor, poor Mrs. Dixie, she thought. Must be so hard to raise up a child like that.
Ms. Pearline kept on asking, twenty times a day, how she was feeling. The only thing Missippi would tell her was about the pee. She peed every second of every minute. One night, she thought about taking a pillow and a cover into the bathroom and going to sleep right there with her bare butt open on the toilet to catch all the pee. The rotten gas had let up, and thank goodness for that. She was beginning to feel bad for Sue, taking the blame all the time.
The Midnight Boys began slapping five and knuckles, which meant they were about to go on home. That was usually Missippi’s cue to curl up next to Sue in the bed, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep at all that night. Papa was coming up for a visit. He had a drop next door in Indianapolis, and he wanted to see her. He was such a good papa.
He’d want to know who did it to her. He was a dog with a bone, she thought every time he asked. But she would never tell him. Poor Papa might get himself hurt or worse. The only person safe enough to tell was Sue.
Missippi smiled at her best friend, sleeping and snoring a little. Her short hair was starting to grow out, and Lillian had tried to braid it down in the front, but it was too soft and straight to keep. Only one row down the middle kept from slipping, and Sue was so proud of her funny-looking braid that she left it. Missippi laughed and thanked God for a best friend like Sue. Then she rolled her eyes at her familiar urge to pee.
Sometimes she argued with herself about getting up and going to the bathroom. A night of sleep was worth a diamond, rare and beautiful, but her pee barely let her get an hour straight. Two pee voices spoke to her inside her head. One told her she needed to get up and pee, or she’d be embarrassed in front of her friends. But the other voice told her to sleep and pee on herself. She always listened to the first one.
On her way to the bathroom, she noticed wet running down her leg. She sat down, expecting pee, but instead, she found blood. Not much blood, just enough to soak through her panties and reach the middle of her thigh. That had been happening every few days lately, but she never told the others. She didn’t know why exactly, except maybe she didn’t want to worry them. They were already so worried as it was.
She wiped the blood up, following the trail up her leg, and stuffed tissue between her legs. The crotch of her panties was nearly black with dark blood. Good sign, she thought. Ms. Pearline said mamas in trouble had thin blood; this was not that at all. Missippi ran the water until it was icy cold and soaked the panties in the sink.
Then she noticed five fully formed toes kicking through the skin of her belly. She smiled and poked her baby’s toe. It was strange to see somebody else’s foot when she couldn’t see her own feet. He was a kicking little something. The other one was a girl, calm and meek. But the boy, have mercy, probably kicked that blood right out of her body.
“Stop it, young’un,” she told him. “You messing up all my panties.”
He kicked her in response.
“Ouch!” She couldn’t help screaming out. She quickly covered her mouth.
“All right in there?” Ms. Pearline hollered. “Any problems?”
“No, Ms. Pearline,” Missippi replied. “I’m coming on out.”
“I’ll check your vitals when you do. Meet me in the kitchen.”
She had a gift, Ms. Pearline did. Missippi and Sue had talked about her a lot. She was a saint of a woman—smart, loving, creative, talented. Together, they imagined a different life for Ms. Pearline where she could use all of the gifts God gave her. Well, mostly Sue imagined it while Missippi listened to her. Missippi couldn’t see much outside of Valdosta, but Sue had a whole world of knowing to speak on.
Sue said, where she came from, Ms. Pearline could be a traveling nurse. Catching trains from the mountains of Washington to the big city of New York. Healing folks and delivering babies of all kinds. Sue also said Ms. Pearline could marry a rich man if she wanted to, since she was so beautiful. Missippi had told Sue about seeing Ms. Pearline stripped down in her slip once. How she couldn’t hardly hold the timer from watching the glow of her skin and hair and face. In the end, Sue said Ms. Pearline would be single. No way she’d sit down to marry a rich man. She could just sleep with men on her travels and change the world for the better. Men were of no use to women like Ms. Pearline. Most men were nothing compared to a strong woman.
That really hit Missippi deep. Men not being important to important girls. It made her think of Unc, and she hated thinking of him. He smelled like hurt and looked like worry. But since he’d been coming to see her, she thought of him that way. Like a sorry excuse for a man. Missippi didn’t know it was okay to think of her elders that way, but Sue did so openly and without being sorry for it.
“You coming?” Ms. Pearline knocked on the bathroom door again.
M
issippi flushed, stuffed her wet panties into the breakfront, and hurried out.
* * *
The next morning, Missippi popped up from bed, waking everyone. “My papa’s coming today, y’all!”
“We know,” said Lillian. “You told us twenty thousand times already.”
“Let her alone,” Sue interjected, and then turned her attention to Missippi. “I’m excited for you, best friend Sippi.”
“Thanks, best friend Sue.”
“Let me check your pressure,” Ms. Pearline called to Missippi. “You were high last night. If your pressure is up, you can’t go anywhere today. Just rest.”
Missippi felt her eyes grow into saucers and began to breathe deep and slow. She closed her eyes and thought of low blood pressure.
Low blood pressure, low blood pressure, low blood pressure.
Inside her head, she told her babies to say it with her.
Low blood pressure, low blood pressure, low blood pressure.
She laughed at their little voices chanting along with her on the inside. She hadn’t told another soul she could hear them, not even best friend Sue. They might well think she’d lost it. She also hadn’t told anyone that she was having one boy and one girl. That seemed like a sacred thing to tell. Like telling a birthday wish after blowing out all the candles.
Missippi got up and walked slowly to Ms. Pearline’s blood pressure cuff. Everybody was watching them, waiting for the results like a game of baseball. Missippi saw best friend Sue crossing her fingers, and she was thankful to her for that.
“Relax.” Ms. Pearline smiled and placed the cuff around her upper arm. “And don’t move.”
“I think she knows the drill by now,” said Lillian. “Ouch!”
“Shut up, now,” Mary said after elbowing her in the side. “Good luck, Missippi.”
The cuff squeezed lightly and then kept on squeezing until it kind of hurt. Missippi liked the feel of it. After a time, it released with a huff of wind.
“All right,” said Ms. Pearline. “One forty-three over one oh nine.”
“Woooooo!” they all yelled out.
“Still a little high, but you can go. Just take it easy,” Ms. Pearline added. “No excitement.”
“When will Papa be here?”
“Any minute now, I’d say.”
Missippi hollered at the sound of a knock on the door, and Ms. Pearline hushed her cautiously.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
“Who you think, Pearl?”
Ms. Pearline rushed them into her bedroom and told them to lock themselves inside. Missippi knew not to like this man. He was what Sue would call a loser.
“Hey there, Mr. Reese,” Ms. Pearline said. “I left your money in the box. You get it?”
Missippi hated to hear Ms. Pearline speak like that. She didn’t even sound like herself. She sounded like a lady trying to make a bad man feel like a better man.
“I got your money,” he said, obviously unsatisfied. “I’m just coming by to make sure everything working up here.”
“Everything’s working fine, Mr. Reese. Thank you.”
“That toilet flushes so much it’s bound to break soon.”
Ms. Pearline giggled in a way she did only when he stopped by. “Women go more than men—you know that, silly goose.”
“It’s them girls in here,” he said with a slur. “Shitting and pissing up the whole building. And who has to fix the plumbing when they mess it up? You’re looking at him. You ain’t paying me near enough.”
“I don’t have any more, Mr. Reese.”
“How many girls you got back there?” he spat. “Let me see them.”
“Oh, Mr. Reese,” Ms. Pearline said with a nervous chuckle. “Am I not enough for you?”
“I mean it, Pearl. Now.”
“Hi there, ma’am,” said another male voice.
“Papa,” Missippi whispered to the girls. “He’s saving us.”
Mary, Lillian, and Sue all held their fingers to their mouths to hush her up. Missippi bounced on her heels. Papa was a good papa, but she didn’t know he was a superhero, too. Come to save the day.
“I’ll be back later on, Pearl,” said Mr. Reese before stomping off.
“Sorry ’bout that,” said Papa. “I didn’t mean to…”
“No.” Ms. Pearline’s voice returned to normal. “Please don’t apologize. You actually … never mind. Missippi will be along. Do you want some tea?”
“Sure, I’ll take tea.”
Missippi got tickled at Papa accepting Ms. Pearline’s unsweet tea. He liked his tea sweet as cane, and Ms. Pearline’s was bitter and nasty. She wanted to wait and jump out soon as he took his first sip. To see his twisted-up face when he tasted that mess. So she and the others stayed put in the bedroom for a few more minutes.
“Who was that man?” he asked Ms. Pearline. “Didn’t give off nothing nice.”
“Oh,” said Ms. Pearline, trying to sound normal and failing. “That’s just the handyman, Tim Reese. He comes by from time to time to check on things.”
“Pardon, ma’am,” Papa started. “But I know his kind from back in Georgia. Hound full of drunk courage and rabid. I’ll be glad to give him a quick talking-to if you like.”
Papa sounded drawn out and country. Missippi hadn’t noticed it before. Probably since she was surrounded by drawn-out and country folks back home. But now that she lived in the middle of northerners, she heard every bit of Valdosta in his voice.
“That means a lot really, but he’ll just come back as soon as you head out. I’m taking care of him.”
“My only child is here with you, Ms. Pearline,” Papa said sternly. “And my grandbaby, too. I wouldn’t be doing it for you.”
“Missippi is perfectly safe here, sir. I assure you,” Ms. Pearline said, matching his stern tone. “I take the life and health of these young ladies seriously. I would gladly lay down my own for them without as much as a blink. Also, sir,” she said, significantly softening her tone, “I thought Missippi would have told you. You have more than one grandchild coming. She’s having twins.”
A sweet silence came over the small apartment. Sue shook Missippi’s shoulder and Mary shimmied. Lillian pressed her ear closer to the door for Papa’s reaction.
Papa broke through by saying, “Two babies?”
“Two babies,” Ms. Pearline repeated after him. “That’s right. She’s high risk, so I’ve been paying close attention to her breathing and movement. While I’m thinking of it, I have an important question to ask you. Does Missippi ever embellish the truth about her own health? For instance, ever say she’s fine when she’s obviously not?”
Missippi thought about bursting through the door to interrupt them, but she was curious what Papa’s answer would be. She was guilty, without a doubt. But did Papa know it? she wondered. The fact that Ms. Pearline did came as a shock. With Missippi not having a mama, she didn’t understand the gifts of women. Were they all that shrewd about other people’s thoughts? Those kinds of moments came up from time to time.
“Missippi has never told me a story,” Papa said. “If she don’t want me to know, she won’t tell it, but she won’t tell a bold-faced lie.”
“Not even a little white one to protect you?”
There was a long gap of quiet in the apartment. Missippi thought of little lies she’d thought no one had noticed. Like the one about understanding the Bible from the front to back cover. And the one about her paper dolls being company enough while Papa was out of town. And not to mention the one about her liking the pickled eggs he brought her home from his travels. She’d eat them in his face and smile before throwing them right back up in the toilet. Lies were okay as long as they were for good. Little white lies, as Ms. Pearline had called them.
“Maybe,” said Papa. “I don’t know. What is this you gave me here? I think your tea has gone bad.”
Missippi took that as her cue to enter. “Papa!” She leaped toward him like she always had, but it hurt a little
in the low belly.
“My God,” Papa said, holding her at an arm’s length.
He hadn’t been by since he’d dropped her off all those weeks ago. She’d grown quite a bit. Missippi had never seen her papa cry. But there he was, crying like a little baby. His whole face went upside down like he’d been dipped in gloom. He threw his head back and forth in a tantrum and wailed like he’d been holding it in. Missippi wanted to take him away from there. Nobody should see him cry like that, but if anybody was going to see, she was glad it was them. They were family, too, after all.
“Who did this to you, baby?” He was all snot and drool and tears.
“Come on, girls,” said Sue. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
Then Missippi began to cry. “Wait,” she said blubbering. “Papa, this is best friend Sue. And other best friends, Mary and Lillian. And you know Ms. Pearline already. They been God’s gifts to my life. Oh! And the Midnight Boys coming along before too long!” She ran over to the window. “They must be sleep now, though.”
He looked up, and again he asked, “Who did this to you?”
“Papa, you a broken record now!” Missippi said to him. “Here! Listen to best friend Sue play this Johnny Cash–man song. You know him, Papa?”
“I know him,” Papa hiccuped. “He’s playing in my rig right now.”
“How did you not tell me about Johnny Cash?” Missippi folded her arms. “His songs are stories. Fun ones! That man’s been everywhere! Just like you, Papa.”
Papa wiped his face and smiled. “Sorry, ladies,” he said. “I just ain’t expect…”
“She’s carrying twins,” Ms. Pearline interjected softly. “And she’s carrying them right out front. Soon as she has them, her little body will go right back to where it was before. Of this I have no doubt.”
“See, Papa?” She wiggled him into a snotty hug. “Ms. Pearline is smart as a whip, and if she says I’ll go right back to where I was before, it’s right.”
“Well, then, Ms. Pearline,” he started. “Is it safe to take my girl out to get some ice cream?”