Authors: Tammy Letherer
Sally wouldn’t even look her in the face. Prudy let her be for a few days, then tried, feebly, to explain how unhappy she’d been with Richard, how she had so desperately needed someone to be kind to her. But it was like talking to a wall. She didn’t know if Sally cared about anything she had to say. Whether she blamed Prudy, or Richard, or herself. She didn’t know anything! Least of all how to move past this. They were stuck, marking time, and Prudy was grateful for the smallest crumbs of normalcy. Asking Sally
do you want some toast?
Having her nod and say yes.
Okay, Prudy screwed up. Still, it felt so unfair! Like no one wanted to see her side. Like the time, years ago, when she tried to tell her mother about Richard’s violent moods.
I’ve been married to your father for 40 years
, her mother snapped.
You don’t see him going for the bottle!
And the silent disapproval of Prudy’s sister Bunny when Prudy told her Richard had walked out. They never knew the half of it! How Richard beat her. How he left her for weeks on end with no money. How he slept with other women. She wasn’t sure they would care. Especially now.
“Tell me it isn’t true!” Bunny gasped over the phone when the news reached her.
Truth was something Bunny tolerated only when it was tidy and square and clicked perfectly into the well-ordered framework of her brain.
“Oh, stuff it, Bunny,” Prudy said, ready to hang up.
“Mother’s in shock, you know. You have to come see her. You have to explain.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out.”
Even Flookie—flaky, faithful Flookie, who’d known the truth all along —reproached her.
“Why did you let Sally find out now, like that?”
Prudy faltered. Flookie was right. How terrible it must have been for Sally to hear it from Phillip! Prudy knew now she had taken the easy way out. She was just so afraid of saying those words.
Pastor Voss is your father.
“And Phillip’s gone now, Prudy! How must Sally feel?”
“He told me he would resign. I didn’t think—”
“
God
Prudy! What
did
you think?”
“I don’t know! It’s like I’m losing my mind. One minute I have it all figured out and everything makes sense. The next minute I see what a terrible mistake I’ve made.”
Was she playing the victim? Was the spectacle at the banquet just her way of finally saying
see what a raw deal I got? Can you believe how long I lived with this?
Or. Maybe it was a way of getting a little something back for herself.
That man you all adore? That pillar of society, that man of God? He loved me! He fathered my child!
But motherhood is not even close to Godliness. In fact, those Renaissance paintings? Sometimes there’s a little cherub carrying a bow and arrow. He’s pointing it at the Madonna, ready to strike. In the background there’s death and destruction. A fall from grace.
The resentment was there when Prudy found Sally bending over the toilet one morning.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sick.” Sally heaved, producing only a mouthful of spit. Prudy put her hand on Sally’s back, the way she always did. Sally shrugged her off.
“Leave me alone.”
Prudy stepped back, uncertain. She’d already said these things:
Phillip didn’t leave you, he left the church. He’ll be in touch, when you’re ready.
This, at least, was one assurance he’d given her before slithering away like a snake.
She’d already said
I’m sorry
.
Forgive me.
I love you.
What she wanted to say now was
fine! I’ll leave you alone!
She hesitated. “Should I call the school?”
Sally nodded and Prudy went into the kitchen but she didn’t pick up the phone. Instead she sat at the table. That night. And that boy. What really happened between them? Sally had never shown much interest in boys. She was a good kid, level-headed and mature. But
that
night.
Prudy went back to the bathroom. “You never told me what happened with this Cash kid.”
Sally’s head lay on her arm on the seat of the toilet. “You never asked.”
True. She’d been afraid to act like a parent.
“So what happened?”
Sally’s voice echoed in the toilet bowl. “Nothing. I hid in his garage for awhile. That’s all.”
“Alone?”
“What difference does it make?”
Prudy clasped her hands together to steady them. “Sally. I want to make sure…” How to say it? “…that you’re okay.”
“I have the flu. Someone at school had it last week. It’s going around.”
Prudy touched Sally’s forehead. There was no fever. “I’m going to call the doctor.”
“I don’t need the doctor. I’ll be better tomorrow.”
“What if you’re not?”
Sally raised her head. “You think I’m dying or something? That would be for the best, wouldn’t it? If I was gone everybody could forget about all this mess.”
“How can you say such a thing?”
“You probably think about
him
every time you see me.”
“That’s not true!” Not anymore anyway. “I thank God for you every day.” And every day she asked forgiveness for what she’d tried to do to herself in the bathroom. She was grateful Sally didn’t know about that.
“Don’t talk about God. I’m going to puke.”
“Do you think it could be anything besides the flu?” Prudy asked cautiously.
Sally pulled herself into a ball. “Stop it! If you have something to say, just say it!” But she looked scared and put her hands over her ears.
Prudy stared at her. Just say it? Did Sally really think it was so easy to talk about such things? She was suddenly furious. At Sally. At everyone.
“Tell me
exactly
what you did with him!” The harshness of her voice startled her. Dread was flooding over her.
Sally shook her head violently. “I can’t. I can’t say it. I can’t even think about it.”
“Oh Sally!” Prudy cried. “Did you have sex with him?”
Sally started to cry.
“Did you?”
“Let go of me!”
Prudy didn’t realize she’d grabbed Sally’s arm.
“Did you do this to get back at me? Is that it?” Phillip was having his revenge on her. Why not Sally?
There was no answer, just that unbearable sobbing. Prudy couldn’t take it. Falling apart was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
“That boy doesn’t love you,” she said. “He doesn’t care anything about you. He was using you.”
Sally lifted her head. “What do
you
know about love?”
“You think I don’t know about being used?”
The crying stopped. Barely audibly, Sally said, “Cash likes me.”
“Oh
Sally
.” How could Prudy blame her daughter for believing that? She’d been there herself. She knew too well the confusion that came with sharing yourself with a man, hearing him whisper all sorts of loveliness, only to have him walk away without so much as a backward glance. She was nearly forty years old and she’d never made sense of the turmoil that sex unleashed. The closeness that made you ache with loneliness. The disappointment and desperate longing for something unnamed. The understanding that you’ve given yourself to someone who could throw you away like an old rag. She didn’t want Sally to go through it. Not after everything else that had happened.
She took a deep breath. “Is your period late?”
She wouldn’t assume the worse. Nothing was certain. Except one thing. She was a terrible parent. The worst! She should have died that day in the bathroom. Her kids would have been better off without her. Lenny and Nell could have gone to live with Bunny and her husband Ollie. They could have grown up on the farm. Lenny would be strong and tanned and solid. Nell thin and smiling. And Sally would never have existed.
Prudy’s stomach twisted. She loved her so much!
“Get your shoes on,” she said. “We’re going to the doctor.”
Prudy turned and walked out, leaving Sally to rinse her mouth and splash her face. She picked up her pocketbook from the kitchen counter and sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting. When Sally emerged she had the puffy, smeary look of a child after a nap—so young!—and Prudy had to duck her head to hide her quivering chin. She stood abruptly and opened the front door, Sally shuffling behind her. They walked in silence down the block, then turned toward the bustling morning traffic on Butternut Avenue. It was five minutes before she realized she hadn’t called the school. She hadn’t called Mrs. Overbeek in the office at Batt’s and her shift would be starting any minute. What would happen? She was too afraid to think about it. They stopped at the crosswalk and Prudy took Sally’s hand. Her only job was to be right here, holding on tight.
At Dr. Maas’ office, the receptionist asked if they had an appointment. Prudy had never liked this woman, one of those too young, too perky types who have that way of giving a person a quick once-over before flipping on a smile.
Prudy steeled herself. “We need to see the doctor right away.”
Flick, flick
went the woman’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. He’s completely booked.”
“He’s going to have to squeeze us in. We’re not leaving until he does.”
The woman frowned. “Can I ask what the problem is?”
Prudy lifted her chin. “No you may not. In fact, we’ll just go wait in there.” Before the woman could answer, Prudy was pushing Sally toward one of the exam rooms. She heard the receptionist gasp and push her swivel chair back, but she was already closing the door behind them.
“What’s he going to do?” Sally asked tremulously.
“Don’t worry.” Prudy was too close to panic to talk. She didn’t want to raise another kid! Of course it would fall to her. Sally couldn’t be expected to handle a baby. Prudy remembered how once, visiting an aunt in a nursing home, she saw an old woman pace the hallway clutching a baby doll to her breast. She stroked its back and whispered to it as if it were real and Prudy, before she realized, thought
Oh! How sweet!
But it wasn’t sweet at all. It was proof of how motherhood carves a permanent hole in a woman. It’s all you have, then you have nothing.
Prudy wasn’t ready to let her little girl go.
Dr. Maas stepped into the room looking puzzled.
“She needs a pregnancy test,” Prudy blurted. She said it matter of factly, though her cheeks were flaming. He must have heard this before! How many times? And how many times would she have to see this helpless, well
gosh!
look on a man’s face? She felt herself begin to shake.
“All those times you pretended not to know that my husband was beating me,” she said, “you can damn well keep your mouth shut now!”
“Prudy!” he said, startled. “We’ve known each other for years.”
“Yes, we have.”
“I’ve always been professional.”
“If professional means you don’t ask a woman the question she’s
waiting
for you to ask. If it means you turn away like a coward—”
It was Prudy’s turn to fall apart. She had no idea why she would, now, in front of this man. She hated it, but she couldn’t stop.
“You delivered my
babies!
I put our lives in your hands. And you…” She pressed a fist to her mouth.
Just shut up! This isn’t helping!
He bristled. “Maybe it’s time you see another doctor.”
She sniffed. She couldn’t look at Sally. “First you’re giving her a test.”
“The nurse can take care of that. I’ll send her in.”
“No! If she does it, everyone in town will know. Do it yourself.”
He sighed and considered this. Then he said to Sally, “I’ll put a cup in the bathroom down the hall. You will catch your urine, mid-stream, in the cup. You’ll leave the cup on the toilet tank and I’ll collect it. Do you understand?”
“Thank you,” Prudy whispered, staring at her hands.
“I won’t have the results for a few days. And I should remind you that there is always the possibility of a false negative or false positive.”
Prudy nodded.
“I can examine her now,” he added.
The thought of another man touching her daughter repulsed her. “No, we’re going,” she said. “We’ll wait for your call.”
Sally
Sally refused to believe there was a life growing in her. How could there be, when she felt so dead? She lay on her bed, doing nothing, seeing nothing. Wishing her thoughts would follow suit.
The doctor had called and told them what they already knew. Except. He might be wrong. He’d said so himself. False positives were possible. Look for other symptoms, he said. Breast tenderness. Frequent urination. Fatigue. Make an appointment, he said. But Sally ignored that, thinking
maybe it won’t take
. Her body might reject it! The hope made her feel guilty. She didn’t want to be defective. She wanted children, someday. Every girl did.