“Do you remember when you had your appendix out after William was born?” she asked.
Baby William started to babble and I pressed my fingertip over his lips. “Hush,” I whispered. They must have been sitting on the old bench by the side of the house, because I could hear every word real good.
“No, ma’am,” Mary Ella said. “I was asleep.”
“But I bet you were sore afterward,” Mrs. Forrester said. “You remember that? You remember when it happened?”
I did. When she came home, she had a cut on her belly with black thread sticking out of it.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mary Ella said.
I put the clean diaper underneath Baby William, glad he’d shut up. My hands was working real slow so I could listen.
“Well, I want to be honest with you, Mary Ella,” Mrs. Forrester said. “The doctor didn’t take your appendix out. Instead, he did an operation that would keep you from having more babies. He thought that would be a good thing for you, and I think he was right. It’s hard for you to even take care of Baby William, even though I know you love him very much. But I
don’t
think it was right for you not to know the truth about what happened.”
I held the safety pin frozen in the air. I couldn’t believe my ears. Mary Ella didn’t say nothing. She must of been as shocked as me.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Mrs. Forrester asked.
Baby William grabbed at the safety pin and I moved his hands away and started pinning the diaper, but my mind was outside the window.
“You saying I can’t have no more babies?” Mary Ella asked.
“That’s right. Not every woman … every girl … should have a lot of children. You have one beautiful little boy. I hope that once you really think about it, it’ll be a relief to you to know you’ll never have to worry about getting pregnant again.”
“How do I get my five children, then?” Mary Ella asked.
I kept real quiet, waiting for Mrs. Forrester to answer. It took her a while. “You won’t be able to have them yourself,” she said. “But there will always be children around. Ivy’s little one is coming. Your neighbors will have babies. People at church. You can go back to church, Mary Ella. I’m sure you miss it and I know they’ll welcome you. I spoke to your preacher a few weeks ago, and he said you’re always welcome there. So you can have children in your life, just not your own.”
“I want my own,” Mary Ella said. “I dreamed about my five children.”
“I know, but sometimes our dreams aren’t really what’s best for us.”
“I want my
own
!” Mary Ella suddenly shouted.
I peeked out the window just as she jumped up from the bench and started running.
“Mary Ella!” Mrs. Forrester took off after her, and I heard Mary Ella come in the house.
“Nonnie!” She was crying. “She said I can’t have no more babies!”
I picked up Baby William and headed for the door. When I came out of the bedroom, Mary Ella grabbed Baby William from my arms. “She said they lied!” she said to me.
I could hardly stand how much hurt was in her face. I looked past her to where Mrs. Forrester stood in the doorway, looking right pale.
“They lied about doing that appendix operation?” I asked her, like I didn’t already know everything Mrs. Forrester told her.
“Now, now.” Nonnie hobbled out of the kitchen, heading straight for Mary Ella. She was all a bunch of nerves, twisting her apron in her hands. She looked at Mrs. Forrester. “Why’d you go and do that?” she asked. “
Why?
That child was doing just fine.”
“It wasn’t fair.” Mrs. Forrester pressed her hands together in front of her, like she did sometimes. “She had a right to—”
“What’s a right got to do with it?” Nonnie snapped at her. “You probably live in a big house and gone to fancy schools and you ain’t got no idea what it’s like to try to raise up these motherless girls.” She picked up the switch from the floor again and started toward Mrs. Forrester, who didn’t have the brains to get out of the house, but I grabbed Nonnie’s arm before she could do something stupid.
“I want five babies!” Mary Ella squeezed Baby William so hard he let out a screech.
“Put him down!” I said, sharp enough that I surprised her, and she opened her arms so fast he just slid to the floor and sat there hollering even louder.
Mrs. Forrester rushed to him, squatting down to help him to his feet.
“He ain’t hurt,” Nonnie said. “Just surprised hisself.”
I was still holding Nonnie’s arm and she didn’t try to stop me when I took the switch out of her hand. “Why’d they lie?” I asked Mrs. Forrester. “How’d they do it? How’d they fix it so she couldn’t have no more babies?”
“They…” Mrs. Forrester got to her feet. She sounded out of breath. “It’s a simple surgery,” she said. “They just cut something inside that keeps a girl from getting pregnant. She can still have … intercourse, but—”
“Don’t use that word in my house!” Nonnie shouted. “I want Mrs. Werkman back. You ruin things.” She hugged Mary Ella, who cried against her. “Look what you done to this child!” she said.
“Mary Ella.” Mrs. Forrester tried to talk to her, but she had her head buried on Nonnie’s shoulder. “You’ll be healthier and better able to take care of—”
“You git!” Nonnie said to her. “You’re welcome to come back here with the clothes and the food, but don’t you mess with my family no more!”
I could tell Mrs. Forrester was trying to figure out what to do. Finally she put her hand light on Mary Ella’s back. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, and she left without even looking in my direction.
Nonnie and Mary Ella stayed in the living room while I carried the switch into the yard. I looked toward the woods where Mrs. Forrester had already disappeared. I didn’t know what I thought of her right now. Whether I still loved her or hated her.
I went back in the house to start making supper for Baby William, and I was cutting up a carrot when I suddenly thought about my own baby. Would I wake up after it was born with that black thread coming out of my belly? Were they going to lie to me, too?
34
Jane
Oh dear God, what have I done?
I drove home from Grace County in a fog of guilt and confusion, my temples throbbing and my stomach roiling. I kept playing my talk with Mary Ella over and over in my head, unable to get her face out of my mind. I thought of the way she’d stared at me when she finally understood what I was telling her, her mouth open in surprise, her blue eyes wide and disbelieving. I’d wanted to look away from that shock and sorrow. No one could tell me she wasn’t smart enough to understand. She knew exactly what I was saying. She had a right to know, damn it! I pounded the steering wheel with my fist. I didn’t know how else I could have told her, but the one thing I knew for certain was that I’d handled it all wrong.
I pulled into our driveway, but didn’t get out of the car. I sat there, staring blindly at our garage, hoping and praying I wouldn’t need to have the same conversation with Ivy. I’d made my part of the petition as weak as I dared, knowing it had to be damning enough to get Fred’s signature. He made me rewrite it. Twice. When I read the final version before putting it in the envelope, I was appalled at how convincing an argument I’d made for sterilization, but I also knew that every word was the truth.
Robert’s car pulled up behind mine and he tapped his horn in greeting. This was the first week we’d had Angeline make dinner for us. She’d prepare it during the afternoon and all I had to do was heat it in the oven. Robert wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but having Angeline do the cooking was the only way we could eat before eight at night. I had no idea what she’d made for us tonight and it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.
I ran my hands through my hair and gave my temples a quick massage that did nothing to ease the pain. Then I put a smile on my face and got out of my car.
“Hi, darling,” I said, greeting him with a kiss as he got out of his own car.
“Hi,” he said, and we started walking side by side to the back door. “You’re just getting home?” he asked.
“I needed to see one of my families at the end of the day,” I said. “It was a little rough.” How I wished I could talk to him about it! There was really no one I could confide in these days. Charlotte was the natural candidate, but she was way too judgmental. Lois was too ill for me to bother with my problems and I didn’t want to worry my mother. I missed college, when I’d been surrounded by Gloria and my other girlfriends. Now we were all scattered to the winds.
Robert sighed as we neared the back door, and I could tell he was debating whether to ask me why it was rough. I didn’t wait for him to make up his mind. I was desperate to talk to someone about what I’d done.
“You know that family with the seventeen- and fifteen-year-old sisters?”
“How could I forget,” he said.
I ignored his tone. “I told the older one that’s she’s sterile and she got very upset. Everyone had told her that she had an appendectomy instead of a tubal ligation, and I thought—”
“Why did you tell her?” he asked as we walked into the kitchen. The room was filled with the aroma of Angeline’s cooking, but it turned my stomach. “Hey! It smells like heaven in here, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, it really does,” I agreed absently, turning on the oven. The sooner I had dinner on the table, the happier my husband would be. “I told her because she thought she could still have children,” I said. “She was talking about wanting five. How could I let her go through her life believing she could have four more children?”
“Five little welfare babies?” Robert set his briefcase on the bench of the breakfast nook. “Who cares if she wants them? She shouldn’t have children she can’t support.”
“I just think it was so wrong to lie to her.”
He loosened his tie and stared at me. “You know what, Jane?” he asked. “I’m sick to death of talking about your work.” He looked as tired as I felt. “Sick … to … death.”
“I haven’t talked to you about my work in weeks,” I said, my hand on the refrigerator door.
“Oh come on.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound.
“I haven’t!” I dropped my hand from the refrigerator. I felt wrongly accused. “I know you hate it so I’ve avoided talking to you about it, even though I really, really wish I could.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Would you make me a drink, please?” He slumped onto the bench, facing the room instead of the table.
I let out my breath in a huff and reached into the cupboard where we kept the liquor. We’d have to talk about this, but now was obviously the wrong time. “Did you have a hard day, too?” I asked, shaking the gin and vermouth together. I knew I had a way of putting my problems first in this marriage. I needed to be better about that.
“Diagnosed a boy with polio,” he said.
“Polio?”
I stopped the shaker.
“His parents had refused to have him vaccinated. They broke down in my office. I spent an hour with them while other patients waited, but I had to take the time.”
“Of course you did,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Robert.” I poured the drink into a cocktail glass and dropped in an olive.
He stood up and I handed him the glass. “Why don’t you relax while I get dinner in the oven,” I said, “and then we can talk about it.”
He nodded. The orange sunlight coming through the window of the breakfast nook illuminated the side of his face, and I saw tiny lines around his eyes. I could see how he’d look when he got older. So distinguished. I reached up to touch his cheek, but he suddenly grabbed my hand. He was staring at my hair.
“Come over here,” he said, and he pulled me toward the door and turned on the overhead light. He touched my hair and I was embarrassed.
“Oh, don’t look,” I said, trying to cover my hair with my free hand. “I’ve got dandruff. I never had it before, so I’ve been using—”
“Jesus H. Christ!” He backed away from me as though my hair had burned him. “You’ve got lice!”
I thought—I
hoped
—I’d misunderstood him.
“What?”
“Damn it!” he said, setting down his drink. “I must have them, too. My head itches, but I thought it was that new shampoo you bought. Damn it, Jane!”
“No!” I said. “I think it’s just dandruff.” My scalp suddenly itched like mad, but I didn’t dare touch it.
“It’s lice,” he said. “I’ve seen lice.” He looked at his watch. “The pharmacy just closed but I’ll see if I can catch the pharmacist before he leaves. I’ll tell him the shampoo is for … a neighbor or … I’ll make up something. You stay here and strip the bed. Hot water. Sheets. Towels. Our clothes. Everything!” He grabbed his keys from the counter where he’d tossed them. “You’re quitting!” he said. “You are finished with this job.”
“How do you know
you
didn’t bring them home?” I asked. “You just said you’ve seen them. You could just as easily have—”
“Go strip the bed!” he shouted, his back to me as he stormed out the door, and I heard him mutter under his breath,
“Goddamn it.”
I stood there, stupidly staring at the back door, afraid to move. Afraid the lice would fall off my head and onto my shoulders. Onto the kitchen floor. It wasn’t dandruff I had. It was nits. I climbed the stairs to our bedroom slowly, holding my head perfectly still, although I knew the dandruff—the
infestation
—had started weeks ago; it hardly mattered if I moved my head now.
I wrapped a towel around my head, then started to strip the bed, but the thought of the tiny insects was too much for me and I rushed to the bathroom to be sick.
I sat on the bathroom floor for a few minutes after I threw up, my head against the cool tile wall. I thought of the houses I went into, some of them more like shacks. Some of them filthy and crawling with vermin. I’d brought them home, almost certainly. He was right about that.
I pulled myself together and got weakly to my feet. He’d be angry if I didn’t have the bed stripped and the laundry going by the time he got home. I could hardly blame him.
35
Ivy
“Set aside some of these for supper tonight,” Nonnie said, as me and her shelled peas at the kitchen table to get them ready for canning.