“And just what did you mean?”
She took a long time to answer, it was something she often asked herself. Unlike herself, the older woman wanted an answer right now.
“Well? Spit it out.”
“I didn’t mean the way I said it.”
“Oh no,” the older woman shook her head, “You meant it just the way you said it. Don’t bullshit me.”
The younger woman felt backed into a corner. Why did it always have to be like this? Why did she feel like a rat on the rails when the train comes in? She looked away from her fingers and stared at the older woman, “You don’t understand.”
“What is there to understand? Tell me. I’m asking you now to explain it all for me.” The older placed her hands on the younger woman’s face, holding it. Cold blue eyes piercing young brown ones. “I want to understand.”
On the spot and she couldn’t say a thing. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but the oncoming train in her head was barreling towards her and she flinched away. “No. Stop it, stop this.”
The older woman grabbed the younger’s chin and twisted it up. “No. You stop this. You cut this out right now.”
The younger woman slapped the older woman without thinking. Her mouth dropped open, the older woman’s face glowed red, four faint red leeches on her cheek. Cold blue eyes glistened as the older woman turned back towards her.
“I’m sorry… oh, I’m so sorry..”, the younger woman whispered, tears swelling out of her eyes and she hated them. She hated this, the position she was in. A part of her was screaming: ‘Fuck that bitch! She had no right to lay a hand on you. Who does she think she is, your mother?’
“I raised you. When they wanted you to leave, I held onto you, brought you into my home. Made you one of my own.” The older woman’s mouth was a tight line that cut her face into even halves, both pale and bony. Her chin jutted out as far as her nose. “Up until you met that boy, you called me momma.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry…” Through her mouth like spittle, full blown crying.
“Don’t you dare now.” The older woman closed her eyes, opened them, resolved, “You reminded me that I’m not, so don’t you twist it back around. It’s gone and I guess for you it never really was there.”
She could hear the brakes squealing, her heart loud in her chest, the younger woman was finding it hard to breathe. Everything that she had to say was caught somewhere between her throat and teeth, ready to burst out, but she couldn’t. The words always came out stupid and wobbly, stilted. All she wanted to do was hug the older woman, to set things right. She didn’t want what was happening now. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.
“So go. You go and do whatever you think is right for you. I won’t have anymore say in it.” The older woman turned her back and walked away, shutting off the light in the hall.
“No.” The younger woman was shaking. There was some finality to all this that terrified her. A knowing that if she didn’t somehow rectify all this, she would always be as she was now: in the dark with only a vague memory of where everything should be, being in between things, rooms, she couldn’t see. But it was too late, she could hear the older woman close the door to her bedroom, the gentle turn of the lock.
As much as she wanted to run to that door and bang on it, as much as she wanted to lean against the wall and slide down its surface, curling into a question mark of flesh and tears, another part of her dried her eyes, stiffened. It filled her with a silence that was solid and real and sturdy. ‘Forget it, it’s done, you’re on your own’. She turned towards her room, the echoes of the conversation lingering in the walls, haunting her as well as strengthening her every step. In her room, she didn’t turn on the light. She sat on the corner on the bed, wringing her hands, shuddering and catching herself. ‘Forget it.’
She lied down, staring into the dark. Rolling over she picked up the phone and dialed his beeper. She left her number and tacked on a 9-1-1. She hung up and waited. The phone rang a minute later.
“Hey, what happened?”
She couldn’t bring it right out, still sniffling. “Nothing. Had a huge fight with my mom.”
“About me again?”
“No, not really.” She tried to make light of it, “It’s not always about you.”
Static on the line, car horns close, swish of tires in the rain, him just listening, waiting.
She asked, “Where are you anyway?”
“I’m on..,” paused, probably looking about for a street sign, “Thirty seventh and sixth.”
“Are you going home tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He sounded shaky, uncomfortable. Not the kind of thing he wanted to get into. “Did you tell her?”
Immediately she wanted to hang up. “We didn’t even get to it.”
“Are going you to at any time in the near future?”
“You still haven’t told me if you want me to have it or not.”
“It’s not my body.”
“It’s our baby.” She felt like screaming it. Not just into the phone, but to the world. Felt like running through the hall, into the streets, right back to the Group Home for Girls, stand at the top of the steps and shout: ‘I’m a fuck up just like the rest of you..’
“What do you want me to say? That I can’t handle it? Or that I can’t wait, that I’ll make everything okay?”
She yelled, “Yes! That’s exactly what I want you to say! I want you to tell me that everything is going to be okay and that you’ll take care of it!” She was crying again and didn’t try to stop it. “I want you to tell me ‘Fuck you bitch, it ain’t mine’, or, or, ‘Pregnant? Best kill that shit’! Just something!” She felt as if she was choking, stopped herself. She then whispered, “Something so I’d know what to do…”
Engines purred, probably at a red light, the sound of him feeding coins into the pay phone, a car door opening, him not talking, just listening.
She sighed. “I’m sorry..” Stared up at where her ceiling would be. “I’m out to just turn everybody off today..”
She heard cars taking off, the light changed, him at the corner, imagined hundreds of cabs passing a few feet away from him. Sniffled, laughed, maybe he walked away from the phone. Imagined the receiver dangling by a wire as he went and hailed a cab, or grabbed a hot dog. “Are you there?”
Long silence, maybe a part of him did leave and she would never see it again, the rest of him now wondering what to say.
“I’m here,” he said and added slowly, the only thing he could say and mean, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“I didn’t mean-” and she stopped, remembered the older woman turning off the light in the hallway.
“Don’t.” He said. “Don’t ever take anything back. You can’t. Don’t live in that. You’d be lying to yourself.”
Rubbing her palm against her forehead, eyes closed, held onto some of the words before they left her. “It comes out all fucked up..”
“It’s okay,” repeated it in a whisper with the cars somewhere behind him, “…s’okay.”
She opened her eyes, looked at the doorway. Everything that had warmed up in her, chilled and wanted to crawl. Cold blue eyes, head leaning on the door frame, listening.
The younger woman shot up, sitting straight. “I have to go.”
“Did I say something-”
“No.” Careful, her eyes pinned on the older woman, “My mom just walked into the room.”
“Shit..” Car horn blaring behind him. “Did she catch anything?”
“I don’t know.” She replied.
“I know,” the older woman’s lower lip trembled, she looked at the floor, hand to her chin. Looked back up and sighed. “…I know.”
“She knows.”
“Talk to her. No matter what happened before, she’s your mother. Talk to her.”
“I will.” she said, afraid, looking down, whispered good-bye and hung up. Slowly, looking up at the older woman again, cold blue eyes softer now, wet. The younger woman’s hands went first to her stomach, felt awkward, shifted them onto her lap.
Her back straight, steps sure, but slow and soft, the older woman came into the room. She didn’t want to scare her daughter away. Not now more than ever.