I wrote this story last November, and submitted it to Glimmer Train to be included in their literary journal. It was rejected though, and in keeping with editor's tradition, they gave me no reason why.
I was content to leave it at that, but lately I've found myself thinking about this story, and in particular, the characters. I know there are problems with the story, so I want to re-write it and fix those issues so that I have a finished product that does justice to the characters.
However, before I re-write it, I want to get more feedback on it. I'm not so concerned with spelling or grammar (since I don't have any further plans for this version of the story), but why you like the story or why you don't. Thanks in advance for any help.
I was content to leave it at that, but lately I've found myself thinking about this story, and in particular, the characters. I know there are problems with the story, so I want to re-write it and fix those issues so that I have a finished product that does justice to the characters.
However, before I re-write it, I want to get more feedback on it. I'm not so concerned with spelling or grammar (since I don't have any further plans for this version of the story), but why you like the story or why you don't. Thanks in advance for any help.
Because I Love You
By Jamil Ragland
Rachel shivered as the doctor rubbed the blue goo across her bulging stomach. It was her third ultrasound in as many months, and she’d grown to hate the procedure. She’d been told that the gel made it easier to see her insides, which only compounded her feelings. It was a cold shock to her skin, a cold shock to her psyche. There was no denying the grainy black-and-white smudges that appeared on the monitor as the doctor moved the wand across her abdomen. It was all there; the legs that rode their invisible bicycle constantly, the tiny hand that closed, opened and closed again, as if grasping for her throat to squeeze her life out.
“I need you to lie back for me, please,” the doctor said in a light British accent. She’d been craning her neck forward to watch him prepare the equipment. He was wearing a powder blue button down shirt with a red tie, the color of ripe cherries. It complimented his dark skin well, but not his disturbingly blond hair. Rachel had never seen an Indian blond before. She caught a glimpse of his nametag as she lay back. Kruanthammar, it read. She repeated the name like a mantra, starring at the barren wall. It helped.
“I’m right here with you, Rachel,” the other blond in the room whispered. When Rachel had returned home a week ago, she’s simply stared at Sarah. She couldn’t believe that her little sister had cut and dyed her hair. It used to hang down into the small of her back, dominating her thin frame. Now it was short and cropped atop her head, giving her body the balance of a lollipop. She wondered which of them their mother found it harder to look at.
The feeling of the metallic wand tracing across her belly refocused Rachel’s mind into the examination room. The glow from the monitor dragged her eyes to it. There it was again, the unmistakable curve of the baby’s head, like a crown at the top of the curled fetal position. Most of it was an indistinguishable blur, but she could see the baby’s hand. It was firmly planted near what she assumed was the baby’s mouth. Suddenly it rolled, its legs thrashing violently. Rachel grimaced as the feet pummeled her.
We have a live one!” Dr. Kruanthammar smiled. “Baby doesn’t like the ultrasound.”
“Neither do I,” Rachel muttered.
He chuckled. “Like mother, like daughter.”
The words struck Rachel like a car, and she felt the air wheeze out of her lungs. “What did you say?” she gasped, sitting upright.
“Like mother, like daughter. Didn’t your doctor in Virginia tell you the sex of the baby?” Rachel shook her head. “Let me check your chart…Your last ultrasound was at 20 weeks, right on schedule. By then we can predict the sex of the baby pretty accurately.” Kruanthammar looked up at Rachel. “Maybe he just wanted to keep it a surprise!”
“How many months along is she?” Sarah asked.
“She’s at 24 weeks. We don’t go by months anymore. A normal pregnancy is 36 to 40 weeks, so she’s…” Rachel didn’t hear any of their conversation. The mantra in her head had warped, and it beat against her skull like a drum. What would he think? It pulsed and banged louder and harder until it threatened to explode out of her mouth.
“Is the baby all right?” she asked quietly.
“Oh yes, she’s fine. Lungs, heart, spine all look good. I am concerned that she seems a little small for this stage in the pregnancy. Are you a smoker?”
A year ago, smoking had been a social vice, or something to calm her nerves during finals week. Now she felt that nicotine was the only thing that kept her world from unraveling the second she opened her eyes in the morning. “No,” she said.
“Good. Here’s a prescription for a refill of your prenatal vitamins, be sure to take them every day. And give this paper to the receptionist, she’ll schedule your next appointment. Congratulations, and I’ll see you in four weeks!” Kruanthammar’s smile was so wide that Rachel knew he believed that he’d delivered a dream to her. What mother didn’t want a daughter to buy pretty things for, to teach how to sit with their legs crossed?
“Ooh, you’re going to have a little girl!” Sarah cooed as they walked through the clinic. “Do Mom and Dad know? Wait, of course they don’t, you didn’t even know!” She pelted Rachel with questions, and Rachel responded with silence. The main corridor stretched endlessly before them. Sterile fluorescent light bounced off the walls, and the clinic looked more and more like a prison with each step they took. To her right, two nurses in bright green puzzled over test results as an elderly man in an examination room coughed, his body heaving with each spasm. Rachel counted herself lucky. She at least knew what was killing her.
Sarah’s chatter continued as she slid into the passenger side of Rachel’s Toyota. The car was older than both of them, with two missing hubcaps and years of food stains smudged into the upholstery. Rachel sighed, reaching across her sister’s lap and slamming her fist into the glove compartment. It popped open, and she pulled out a pack of Newports. Sarah watched as she pounded the pack into her hand, her fingers trembling in anticipation of having a cigarette between them. “I thought you told the doctor you don’t smoke,” Sarah said, worry forming on her face.
Rachel lit the cigarette and inhaled. The look on Sarah’s face deepened as Rachel held the smoke in her lungs, savoring the tingling sensation that radiated out from her chest to her entire body, reaching her brain last. When Sarah sat forward to say something, she finally exhaled the cloud of gray mist into the windshield. For a moment her troubles dissipated with the smoke, until she looked down at her stomach. A stain had formed on her shirt from when she’d sat up without warning. She wondered if Deshaun would be happy.
“I wanted a kid that would do the fucking, not get fucked,” she said. Sarah looked at her sister, then turned away. “Put your seatbelt on,” but Rachel had already stepped on the gas, slamming Sarah back into the seat.
The sun slid low in the sky, peeking through the rectangular crevices formed by the buildings downtown. Rachel raced across the city. Sarah grabbed tightly at the handle above her door, the blood draining from her knuckles as they ducked between buses and cut off taxis. “What time is it?” Rachel asked, her eyes locked on the road.
“2:38. Where are we going? Home is in the other direction.”
“The bank. We gotta get there before 3:00. I have one more check to deposit.” She’d been proud that she’d kept working until the day that she left Virginia. It had been hard to find a job in Richmond, even with her new bachelor’s degree. She settled for the mailroom of an insurance company. The money was good, but going into that dingy building and walking past the offices that she’d envisioned herself in was just another reminder of how things never went according to plan. But the crumpled check in her pocket finally gave her something that she wanted, an excuse not to go home yet.
Rachel looked over at her sister. She was staring out the window, unaware that Rachel’s eyes were boring into her. Sarah. While she and Julie had tripped over each other to win their mother’s favor, Sarah had become a daddy’s girl. The colors of the trees reminded Rachel of Halloween when she was nine. Sarah was only five years old, still unable to tie her own shoes. A cold wind blew through the trees, showering the streets with orange and red stars. Julie had pushed her down, spilling her candy across the curb like so many multicolored marbles. Hurry up, it’s getting dark, their mother had scolded. She was walking towards a blue house with a red roof, Julie nipping at her heels with her little cat tail dangling behind her. While she struggled to tell the difference between the candy wrappers and the leaves, she looked back to see Sarah. She was standing there in her bumble bee outfit, their father bent over on one knee threading her shoelace into a neat, double-knotted bow.
“I really like your haircut,” Rachel said,
Sarah turned around in her seat, smiling in that goofy way that made her face squinch up until her eyes were nearly closed. “Really? Thanks, Rach. The way you looked at me when you got home, I was sure you hated it.”
“No, it’s not that. I was just…surprised.”
“Because of Mom?”
“Yeah.”
Sarah shrugged, releasing her grip on the door handle. “She didn’t talk to me for almost a week after I cut it. But I’m the one who had to deal with washing and blow-drying it, not her.”
The words came so easily out of Sarah’s mouth. Me, not her. That phrase, or similar ones, had gotten caught in Rachel’s throat more times than she could count. It was the unspoken rule of the house: whatever was best for Mom was best for everyone. Each of them had something that she considered her crowning achievement as their mother. Julie’s marriage, Rachel’s degree and Sarah’s hair were like feathers in her cap, and Sarah had taken that hat and thrown it in the dirt. Rachel often wondered how she found the strength to simply not care what Mom thought. The day that she’d graduated from college, watching her mother flash two big thumbs up from the crowd, had been the happiest day of her life. She’d done something that not even Julie had accomplished. In the end, she’d come home with more than a degree though.
“You’re going to pass the bank!” Sarah yelled. Rachel slammed on the brakes, barely avoiding hitting her belly on the steering column. For a moment she wished she had, then instantly regretted it. But a miscarriage would fix all of her problems. Deshaun would be awaiting her with open arms in Richmond, as if this had all been a bad dream. She fought the thought, but it plastered itself to the back of her mind.
Rachel whipped the car around, pulling into the parking lot. The bank was eerily similar to the one she frequented in Richmond, down to the single rectangular pane of glass that formed the face of the building and the green awning that hang over it. Rachel’s stomach knotted up. . This was the same type of building where she’d met Deshaun. He’d towered over everyone else inside, the center of gravity in the room. She’s been unable to escape the pull of his light brown eyes.
Sarah stood in line as she filled out the deposit slip. She stopped at the address line. Was she supposed to use her Richmond address, or the Hartford one? Home, she thought. After five years of scraping by on her own, she was back to sleeping across the hall from Sarah. Deshaun had released his hold on her, and that house dragged her all the way back from 400 miles away. Like a black hole, it reached across time and space to crush her under the weight of failed expectations and the sideways glances her mother thought she couldn’t see. There was no escape. She wrote the Hartford address on the slip.
“Didn’t you say that you met Deshaun in a bank?” Sarah asked when Rachel stood next to her.
“Yeah.”
Sarah’s mouth pursed, little crinkles forming in the corners. She folded her arms across her chest, and Rachel marveled at how exactly she was like their father.
“That bastard,” she muttered. “He’s probably already fucking some other girl down there.”
“Sarah!” Rachel gasped. “I don’t think I’ve heard you curse like that before.”
“I don’t like to, you know that. It just pisses me off to think that he’s down there, and you’re back here in Connecticut with his daughter. Like I said, he’s a *******.” Rachel nodded. It made it easier to blame it all on him, even though she was the one who said hello that day.
The sisters went to lunch after the bank. It had been over a year since Rachel had been back to Hartford, and the changes were drastic. There were three coffee shops downtown instead of just one, and the brick-covered courtyard in front of the colonial State House was quiet, shut down for renovations. The People’s Bank tower was still there, its gold colored windows reflecting the last light of the sun in a halcyon glow that illuminated Main Street. Off to the side, in the shadows of the city’s newest high-rise luxury apartment building, they sat in a Japanese sushi bar. The black marble counters gleamed beneath paper lanterns. Sarah informed her that all these improvements had occurred in the last six months. Just in time for the baby, she said smiling.
Rachel sat back in her chair, twirling a California Roll in her chopsticks. Being in Richmond hadn’t gone according to plan in any way, College had come closer to being a disaster than she’d admitted to anyone, including herself. She’d learned the hard way that a degree with a poor GPA was worthless. That birth control really is only 99% effective. Hartford was coming back to life after years of bumbling by, and maybe this was her chance to do the same. It was growing slowly, developing into something that could someday be great. Like her daughter. When she’d seen the plus sign on that little white stick, she cried for over an hour. That little ball of stuff that had just started growing inside of her had killed any plans that she’d made instantly. It had attached itself to her without her consent, without her knowledge even. And everything had changed. At first, Deshaun had been supportive, and it was he who had to remind her of all the wonderful things a child could bring. As her belly grew, his commitment diminished, as if every bout of morning sickness and every doctor’s visit was a chip away at his own existence. Rachel found that after the first trimester, their roles had changed, and it would only be a few more months before the inevitable “I’m not ready for kids” line passed through his lips. Neither was she, but there was nowhere to run from herself.
He’d been everything he mother had taught her to look for. Tall, well groomed, with skin the color of taffy. His dimples only made it harder to play hard-to-get, but within a month she existed at his beck and call. Rachel was dominated by him, and she enjoyed it. The confident, almost arrogant smile he wore made it easy for her to surrender to him. She let everyone blame him, hate him, but the truth was so simple as to be stupefying. Mistakes happen, and one happened to them. It was his honesty that had impressed her most, and ultimately drove her away. He just wasn’t ready to be a father.
She wondered what he was thinking now, at that very moment. She glanced out the window, expecting to see some sign that he was okay. Rachel put a hand to her stomach, feeling the soft rumblings of her little girl. They hurt. They hurt because she still loved him, and he loved her back. He just didn’t love their daughter, and that was unacceptable. This is our daughter, the physical manifestation of our love, she realized. When he rejected her, he rejected Rachel as well. She looked up at Sarah, struggling to hold a piece of salmon between her two sticks. Rachel grinned.
“Do you think Mom loves us?”
“Hm?” Sarah said, nearly choking after delivering the fish to her mouth. “Yeah, of course. In her own way though. Why?”
“I think I’m finally starting to understand all of this,” Rachel said. The realization had finally hit, really hit. I’m going to have a baby. It struck like a hammer, smashing away the thoughts of Deshaun that had calcified in her mind over the last few weeks. The doctors had warned her that the pregnancy would be accompanied by sudden mood shifts, but this was a seismic change. Her old life was over, but two people would be born on her daughter’s birthday. A baby, and a mother. She would see those first steps, hear those first words, and do all of the corny and embarrassing things she’d seen parents do with their children. Because I love you, she mouthed silently.
Suddenly, the words burst forth from Rachel’s mouth, breaking down the emotional dam she’d been patching and repairing her entire life. Sarah was inundated with regrets, joys and fears, and could do nothing but nod silently as her sister condensed the last five years of her life into an hour. When it was over, they both sat slouched over in their seats, exhausted.
“Wow Rach,” Sarah didn’t start until she was sure Rachel was done. “Where did all of that come from? What happened to ‘fucking-not-being-fucked’?”
“I don’t know. I was sitting here thinking about Deshaun, and something just clicked inside of me. I think it was finding out I’m having a girl.”
“But I thought you wanted a boy?”
“I did. Still, finding out the sex made the baby...real, you know? The baby’s not ‘it’ anymore, it’s ‘she’. She’s going to look like me, sound like me, act like me. And her father too. I love Deshaun, and it hurt too much for him to walk away like this. But, like you would say, his loss.” Rachel explained.
“So are you happy now?”
Rachel laughed. “I’m still a 22-year old single mother living with her parents. And in spite of everything, I still miss him. I do feel better, at least. There are worse places to be right now than home.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. You‘ll get used to dealing with Mom again. And you can take Julie’s old room. It’s the biggest one,” Sarah offered. “I know you ran off to Virginia to get away from Mom, but just think of it as temporary.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Rach, I’m her daughter too. You should see the way she winces every time I tell someone that I go to community college. She got to brag when you left, but she still missed you. She actually cried after when we got back from dropping you off in Richmond. Of course she tried to pretend that it never happened, but you know Mom. She was sobbing so loud that the neighbors probably heard her.”
This new revelation was more surprising than her daughter’s sex. Rachel had always felt like the outsider in her family. Julie had Mom and Sarah had Dad, and she had to fight for every scrap of attention she could growing up. She’d always thought of her decision to go out-of-state as a last grand gesture, an attempt to get her parents to ask her to stay. When they let her go, it devastated her. It took her years to understand that they were allowing her to grow up, but now she realized that it would have hurt even if they’d begged her not to go. She wanted to be close to them, but as far away as possible. Did that make any sense? Did it make any sense that Mom cried when I left?
“Sarah, answer me honestly. Why did you spend more time with Dad than Mom?”
“Because I don’t like Mom,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean? How can you not like your own mother?”
“Easy, she doesn’t like me. I remind her too much of Dad. I don’t think she liked any of us that much, but definitely me the least,” Sarah said.
“What? But you said earlier-”
“I said Mom loves us. I never said she liked us. There is a difference, you know.”
“Yeah, but...” Rachel started. “Mom had her ways, Sarah, like you said. Maybe we just didn’t understand them.”
“Dad and I used to talk about this a lot. You know Julie wasn’t the first time Mom got pregnant, right? Before she met Dad, her high school sweetheart knocked her up and they decided to get an abortion,” Sarah explained.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Well, like Dad likes to say, once the factory’s open for business, it’s hard to shut it down. He got her pregnant in less than six months after they began dating, and she wanted to abort Julie. But Dad wouldn’t let her.”
“I know that too. Where are you going with this?”
Sarah leaned forward, her blond hair falling over her forehead. “I think Mom didn’t want kids, ever. I’m not even sure if she loved Dad. But Julie appeared, and her fate was sealed from that point on. I think she has a grudge against Dad, and us, for taking her life away.”
Rachel looked Sarah straight in the eyes, and could see that her little sister was serious. Her mind shot back to high school, her junior year. Mom and Julie were in the kitchen, pots clanging as they sautéed onions in preparation for dinner. She was sitting on the big blue sofa, her body sunken into the overstuffed pillows and flipping through the channels on TV. Her Dad was milling about, gathering his belongings to head out to work. Rachel handed him his black flight jacket, the words Murphy Security Services emblazoned on the shoulder in red and gold. Mom yelled for the location of the cilantro, and Dad answered that they were out. Well I can’t cook without it. He sighed, and asked Sarah if she wanted to go with him to the store. She leapt up from the computer in the back of the living room eagerly, running to get dressed. Was this where they discussed Mom’s hidden agenda? Was Dad enlightening Sarah, or poisoning her?
Rachel laughed. “A grudge? Are you serious? Mom is weird, but that just sounds crazy. If she doesn’t like us, then why did she cry at Julie’s wedding? Why did she cry when I left?”
“You have to ask her that,” Sarah said between bites of her last piece of sushi.
When they left the restaurant, the sky had darkened to purple. The November chill had set in, nipping at Rachel’s earlobes. The Camry was an icebox, and Rachel felt her daughter kick violently. Even Sarah saw the momentary protrusion near her belly button. “I can see she doesn’t like the cold,” she said.
“Like mother, like daughter.” Sarah smiled, but it faded as Rachel reached into her purse and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. “Last one, I promise,” Rachel said, placing her hand over her heart. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
The ride home was quiet. Rachel was glad for that. She wasn’t sure how much more she could handle in that day. Soon she regretted the silence, as hard questions began filling her mind. How would she pay for a crib? Was she going to breastfeed? When do you start getting a babysitter? She pushed them out of her head, until she turned onto her street and saw the blue house with the red roof. Her mouth went dry, and her grip on the steering wheel slackened. Rachel didn’t consider herself a coward, bit she was more than willing to avoid a confrontation. She’d never told Deshaun how angry she was with him, and for months she’d blamed the baby. The same was true for her home. Growing up in this quiet part of the city had been easy, yet she scape-goated it to avoid the real problem. Rachel wasn’t angry with her mother though. In truth, she feared her.
There was never a moment when it crystallized, but instead a persistent nervousness that pervaded their relationship. She dreaded Thanksgiving break when she was in college, the same way she’d dreaded it in high school. Her mother always had those days off, and she’d be in the house, her presence heavy, smoldering like a massive star in the living room. Everyone always told her how beautiful her mother was, how smart she was, that she was the kindest woman they’d ever met. But they observed her from a safe distance, so they could appreciate the light and warmth thrown off by her smile. Sarah hid behind Dad for protection, while Julie basked in her glow. For Rachel, she awoke every morning to be burned alive.
That was the great irony of her life. As much as she wanted her mother’s attention and approval, she could never actually withstand the weight of her mother’s personality upon her. Straight A’s on a report card were never a cause for celebration. They were just a fulfillment of her obligations. I go to work for you, the least you can do is do well in school, her mother always said. There were very few pats on the back. Rachel was capable, and she was expected to do it. Being close to her mother was exposing herself to constant criticism, softened only slightly by her demeanor. Julie was always so happy with Mom, she thought as they pulled into the driveway. Why was that never me?
Rachel pulled the keys out of the ignition, sitting in the darkened car. Sarah reached for the door, but stopped when she saw that Rachel wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I never understood why I loved Deshaun so much. I’d only known him for two weeks when we started having sex, but I felt like I’d known him forever. Talking to you today made me realize a few things though,” Rachel started.
“Such as?”
“In some way, he was just like Mom, but better. He always took care of me. He gave me everything I wanted, without any of the smartass comments or veiled attacks. He was an easier version of Mom, but in the end that was his problem. He didn’t expect more of me as his girlfriend, and he didn’t expect more of himself as my boyfriend.”
Sarah sighed. “That’s one way to put it. Look Rach, don’t go out there looking for Mom 2.0, because you’re not going to find it.”
“I know that. Do you think I did this to myself on purpose? It’s just…too many years, too many questions. Why Mom and Dad treat each other the way they do. Why we treat each other the way we do. How can you not understand the people you’ve lived your entire life with?” The question hung in the air for a long time. “I started looking for something that I didn’t even know I wanted,” she said.
“What now then?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know. The only person I have figured out is Deshaun, and he’s the last person I need to worry about. I still have no idea what’s going on in there,” she said, gesturing towards the house. “I’m going to be a mother in three months, and I can’t even have a conversation with Julie. How am I going to raise a daughter?”
“Well, if it was me, I’d probably ask Mom about being a mom.”
“You would?” Rachel asked, surprised.
Sarah shrugged. “Regardless, she’s still our mother. You’ve got questions, and she has answers. Anyway, it’s getting too cold. You can sit out here, but I don’t think your daughter will like that.”
“Yeah, I’m coming in too. Thanks Sarah, for everything.”
She turned back and gave Rachel that smile of hers. “Anytime.”
Rachel braced herself against the doorframe, pulling herself up by the car’s roof. Her swollen belly had begun to make everything difficult. The instant the frigid air hit her lungs, her fingers began twitching. She needed a cigarette every time she got into or out of a vehicle, like clockwork. She forced her hands into her pockets, instead surveying the driveway. Dad’s jeep wasn’t there. He must have gone into work early, she thought. Did her mother and father ever really love each other? She’d heard the whispers for years that Mom was just a fling that got pregnant. Who’d made the right decision then Deshaun or her father? Was there even one? A chilled breeze slipped through Rachel’s coat, pushing her towards the house, and the last question of the day.
The smell of curry greeted her as she walked in. As always, entering the house presented her with a choice. Directly in front of her was the stairwell that led to the upstairs bedrooms. It was still early evening, but the darkness made the day seem longer than it had been, and she could use some rest before dinner. To the right was the piano room, and that connected to the living room. The blue sofa with the overstuffed pillows had long since been replaced by a tan sofa with matching love seat. To her left was the dining room, and the kitchen lay beyond it. Rachel could see the layers of dust that had accumulated on the oak tabletop. She, Julie and Dad were absent more than they were present. The idea of Sarah and Mom eating dinner by themselves at a table that seated six was a sad one, but not as much as the completely empty picture in front of her. She squeezed by the pushed in chairs, hoping to find a sponge to clean up with.
She instead found her mother standing in front of the stove, leaning over a pot with a wooden spoon to her mouth. Her long hair was wrapped in a bun, as usual. Her glasses were fogged up by the steam rising off the stove, dripping water onto her broad, flat nose. Her eyes were closed, those slender, elongated almonds that Rachel had inherited. She sighed as all the resolve she’d built up in the car escaped, blown away by the stove’s fan.
“Hi Rachel, how was the appointment?” she asked without looking up.
“I’m having a girl,” she said.
Her mother chuckled, placing the spoon into the pot. “We seem to be cursed to provide the men of the world with their wives.” The words stung Rachel. Cursed, wife. One word described her perfectly, the other did not. She shook her head. No, relax Rachel. It was just a joke. Relax.
“I was really upset at first, because I wanted a son. But as the day went on, I suddenly became happy. Is that normal?”
“Anything is normal for a pregnant woman. When you find out what you’re having, it’s special though. Now the baby has an identity. It’s not an ‘it’ anymore, it’s a ‘she’. Soon she won’t even be ‘she’, she’ll be Julie, or Rachel, or Sarah. Have you thought of a name yet?”
“I’ve been thinking about Noel.”
“Hm, Noel. A bit too religious for me, but it’s a nice name.”
“It’s funny that you said that about the baby not being an ‘it’ anymore. That’s the same thing I said to Sarah earlier.”
“Yes. The day comes that you really understand that you’re going to give birth to a human being. It happens to every mother sooner or later. I’m not surprised that it happened for you today, because that’s when it happened for me when I was pregnant with Julie. You and I are a lot alike.”
“Are we?” Rachel didn’t know how to respond to that. It was the very qualities that Rachel admired in her mother that she hoped not to replicate. Not if it meant inadvertently driving away everyone around her.
“Sure we are. Now go tell your sister that dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Wait!” Rachel blurted out. “I need to ask you something.” She looked at the ground and went silent.
“Yes?” her mother asked after the pause had grown uncomfortably long.
“What’s it like to be a mother?”
She stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned towards Rachel. “That’s a hard question. Are you sure you want to hear the answer?”
“Yes.” Rachel already regretted asking.
“Being a mother is a contradiction. The moment that baby enters the world, everything changes. You spend the first two years as a glorified janitor, cleaning piss and shit and vomit from places you never knew they could be, for a person who can barely blink, much less thank you. And she’ll fight you all the way, you’ll see. She’ll cry when you change her, cry when you bathe her. She’ll even cry when you put her to bed, and all she wants is to collapse in her crib. A 4 o’clock in the morning, when all you’ve had is two hours of sleep, you’ll ask what you got yourself into. Why didn’t I make him wear that condom?
“Then you remember that she doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t know what time it is. She doesn’t even know the difference between night and day. All she knows is that she’s hungry, so she cries. She doesn’t know that the changing table is high, so she falls. She’ll grow up though, and she’ll learn, and things will get easier. You won’t believe it when she turns one, that she’s the same person that came out of you. Everyone talks about the big milestones, but I still remember the first time you held your head up, the first time you rolled over. Babies are funny like that. They don’t warn you, they just do it. You’re just along for the ride.
“But sooner or later, they do learn better, and that’s when it gets hard again. You try to guide them and to protect them. You even hit them when words don’t get your point across. But they still jump on the bed. They still stay out past curfew. It’s like your kids make an effort to do exactly what you tell them not to. What’s that story about the guy that flew too close to the sun? That’s exactly what kids are like, except for a toddler a plug socket might as well be the sun. Hell, I’m still dealing with you guys not doing what I tell you to do,” she laughed. Rachel flinched visibly.
“It’s the greatest experience of your life, and the worst at the same time. That’s the contradiction. Something as simple as seeing your daughter, standing in her crib and smiling at you first thing in the morning, is the best feeling in the world. When she starts talking back, you’ll miss those days.”
Rachel stood silently, her chin quivering as she fought back tears. Sarah was right, she thought. She knew all along, and I’d been blind to it. The same way I’d been with Deshaun. “I’m sorry Mom,” she whispered.
“Hm? Sorry for what?”
“For disappointing you. For taking your life away.”
Her mother sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Did I say that, Rachel? Did those words leave my mouth? You and your sisters have given me so much joy, but it hasn’t been easy. I asked you if you were ready for this conversation. You’d better get ready. Like it or not, that little girl is on her way. At least I had your father when the three of you were born.” Rachel laughed a little. She was sure that no one but her mother could make her feel so completely inadequate while answering a question about motherhood. Nothing would ever change between them. Julie had found her way out, and Sarah would too, eventually. What about me, she wondered. What about us?
“Then why, Mom? Why did you do all this stuff if it was so hard?” Rachel yelled. “I was finally out of your hair. Why did you cry when I left?”
“Because I love you!” she snapped, the words splitting the distance between them like a knife. “Haven’t you been listening? It’s a hard, thankless job, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it. I know you all think I’m terrible. Julie married the first man that came along to get out of here, and you moved halfway across the country. And Sarah, she chose to follow around that no-good husband of mine like a lost puppy. What about me, Rachel? What about my feelings? Did you ever stop to think about that before you opened your legs?” Rachel looked down at the floor. “If you’d all listened to me, maybe we all wouldn’t be as fucked up as we are!”
“So that’s it? It’s our fault for not listening to you? Well, I guess we all got what we deserved, right Mom? Me, Sarah, Julie, Dad…even my daughter. If only we’d listened to the woman who couldn’t keep her own shit together. Maybe if you’d taken your own advice, none of us would even be here to hear you say, ‘I told you so!”” Rachel wanted those words back as soon as they left her lips. It was one of the few times that she saw real hurt in her mother’s eyes. The silence was hot and still, ready to explode at any moment.
“Maybe you’re right. Does hearing that make you feel better?” her mother said at last, turning back towards the stove. “Go tell your sister that dinner is ready.”
Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but instead turned away. She felt drained, and every step she took upstairs was a struggle. At the top of the staircase, she faced another choice. The bathroom awaited her at the end of the hallway. On the right was Sarah’s room, and across the hall was her own. She stood there for a long time, the three doors like gateways. The sounds of a television emanated from Sarah’s room, the light flickering from beneath the door. Rachel didn’t want to see her sister. It would just remind her of how stupid she’d been. Besides, she told herself, it didn’t matter what she did either way. There were no right choices.
She pushed open the door to her room. It was dark, but everything was in the same place it had been for the last five years. Except for the bassinet that stood in front of her closet door, an early baby gift from a cousin. Rachel lay down, the weight of her belly twisting her onto her side. She was asleep before she knew it, alone in her home.
