The House of Eve (80)

Tears bursts in my eyes. Somehow, we’d done it. The four of us, with no training, had managed to bring Bubbles’s baby into the world.

Bubbles looked on the verge of passing out, but then Georgia Mae placed the baby on her chest. As Bubbles brought her little girl to her face, I released more tears. I was in awe. I had witnessed a person coming into the world. Would I feel this way when I gave birth, too? I’d tried to think of the thing inside me as an egg, nothing more, but seeing Bubbles’s baby made it harder. Suddenly I cringed at the reality of what I was at the Gingerbread House to do.

The baby hollered as Bubbles tried to get her swollen breast into her mouth. After a few tries and with Georgia Mae’s help, the baby caught on and settled down.

“Joy comes in the morning.” Bubbles’s voice was raspy with fatigue. “I’m going to name her Joy.”

The sky was still dark as mother and child drifted off to sleep. Blood was everywhere. How were we supposed to get this cleaned up without anyone catching us? But while I was frozen in fear, Georgia Mae was already fast at work balling up bloody linen. I got some water from the sink and wiped down the floor. We hid the bloody blankets behind one of the chests of drawers, and then Georgia Mae sponged off Bubbles and fixed her with two thick Kotex from the stolen supplies.

By the time the breakfast bell rang out over the PA system, I was exhausted. Loretta, Georgia Mae and I headed downstairs together. I had gone over several excuses in my head of why Bubbles wasn’t with us, but when we got downstairs Mother Margaret was heading toward the door with a girl hunched over in labor. She called over her shoulder to Little Sister Bethany to hold down the house.

“I have some errands to run after I get her settled at the clinic. I’ll be back sometime after dinner.”

A day without Mother Margaret meant that luck was on our side. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat down and ate my clumpy oatmeal, hoping the nourishment would make up for my lack of sleep. Since it was Sunday, we had church services with the old priest we had dubbed Father Time. The three of us sat in our little corner and dozed through his sermon, but he was likely too senile to notice.

Georgia Mae’s muteness worked in our favor. She was essentially invisible, and slipped upstairs throughout the day with fresh pads and food for Bubbles to eat without anyone noticing. It wasn’t until after dinner that Kitchen Sister Kathleen asked about Bubbles.

“Doesn’t she usually clean the pots?” She tightened her thin lips.

“Her back is hurting so I offered to switch with her, just for tonight,” Loretta spoke up then moved over to the utility sink.

Kitchen Sister Kathleen nodded, and then continued packing up the leftover turkey legs and gravy in clear storage containers. Once we had restored the kitchen and dining area, Little Sister Bethany made us sit for nightly devotion. We sang the same old hymns, but instead of the usual Bible verses, Little Sister Bethany read the story of the Tower of Babel from the book of Genesis. It was a welcomed reprieve. When we were finally permitted to return to our room, Bubbles was sitting up with the baby against her breasts.

“How is she doing?” I asked, leaning in to see her face.

“She’s perfect in every way. Want to hold her?”

I nodded and she turned the baby over into my arms. She smelled so sweet. I felt a little tug on my breasts that startled me.

“Let me,” said Loretta, and I passed the baby off to her. That’s how the four of us spent our evening, passing the baby back and forth and fussing over her.

When she cried, we did our best to quiet her. Bubbles had just settled her down from a spell when we heard the doorknob turn in its hinges. It was way past the time when anyone would venture up to check on us. Had we been too loud? Did someone know about the baby? The blankets stuffed under the door restricted movement, but the person on the other end kept pushing and pushing until it slid across the floor.

Everything that I’d have to give up for helping Bubbles flashed before my eyes as the door opened. But it wasn’t Mother Margaret. It was Gertrude, the acne-face lifer who had tipped over my bucket and denied us popcorn on movie night. The secret was out. She would report us to Mother Margaret, and Bubbles’s baby would be taken away. All our hard work had been for nothing.

Gertrude looked around the room, and then her eyes fell on Bubbles rocking the baby. “You ready?”

Bubbles nodded and made to get up from her cot.

“Better hurry then, the coast is clear.”

“What’s happening?” I looked at Bubbles as she bundled up the baby.

“Gertrude’s helping me bust out of here. Ray’s going to meet us outside at midnight.”

“What?” I said incredulously. “How do you know you can trust her? And what if he’s not there?” I moved to stop her.

“Gertrude’s cool, don’t worry. It was all an act to cover our tracks. We’ve been planning this breakout for weeks. Ray’s going to drop her off on our way. She’s getting out of here, too.”

Bubbles hugged Georgia Mae and then Loretta, who had started crying. “Thanks for helping me through this. I couldn’t have done it without you three.”

She grabbed me hard, and I whispered for her to be careful.

“Me and Ray gonna raise his girls together. It’s the right choice, I can feel it in my gut.”

I kissed the baby on her forehead, taking in her sweet scent for the last time. Gertrude opened the door, and then they were gone.