The House of Eve (86)
“With Greta,” she spat before she could stop herself.
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“Oh, give it a rest. I know she still has a thing for you. Your mother won’t let me forget it. I bet she was in your face all weekend, happy that you left your little pregnant wife at home.”
“Unlike you I have nothing to hide,” he said steely-eyed, and his meaning was not lost on Eleanor.
She hissed between clenched teeth, “And I was just being polite.”
“Standing around the kitchen sharing food like old pals is more than just polite, especially when I’m out of town. He shouldn’t have been here.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
“Dishonesty doesn’t suit you,” he said, grabbing up his bag and heading for the stairs. “You should know better.”
It was crystal clear to Eleanor that this argument was about more than the avocado. She pushed her plate to the side and cut him off in the upstairs hallway.
“Have you ever spent a major holiday alone, William?”
“You knew what we were getting into when we started this.”
“We? More like me, William. I’m the one cooped up in this house day and night, hour after hour, while you are out having the time of your life.”
He unfastened the shirt buttons around his wrist, color rising in his face. “I spend my days and nights at the hospital so that I can become a doctor and support you. Plus, let’s not forget that this was your idea to hide out in the first place.”
“So as not to embarrass you!”
William stopped just beyond the doorway. Eleanor hadn’t made their bed that morning and William looked at her and shook his head. “I’m tired, it’s been a long day. Why don’t you go back and finish your avocado?”
Eleanor wanted to reach up and choke him, but instead she shouted, “Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier!” then stormed out of the bedroom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE HOLIDAY BLUES
Ruby
Christmas fell on a Monday. The day before the holiday, Little Sister Bethany dragged in a skinny, four-foot Christmas tree that we took turns trimming with paper ornaments and strings of Cheerios and popcorn. Although Shimmy didn’t celebrate Christmas, that didn’t stop me from imagining spending the holiday with him, the egg between us as we lit our own tree and kissed under the mistletoe. But as soon as the thought entered my mind, I shook it from my head. Where would we have celebrated? The smelly alley?
I wondered what Nene was doing and wished that I could have a sip of the eggnog she made each year from scratch, and a slice of the ham with pineapples that was Aunt Marie’s specialty. I even missed Inez, the sound of her laughter and how soft her voice could be when she was in a good mood. Keeping my spirits up was hard, because the whole house was draped in depression. Loretta moved robotically, her heavy sadness clinging to the air in our room.
At nightly devotion, Mother Margaret told us the story of Jesus’s birth, and then after a bit of off-key caroling, we were allotted two drop cookies before bed. Loretta gave me hers. When we woke up the next morning, Mother Margaret handed us each a small wrapped box to open. Inside was a fake gold necklace with a dangling cross. Loretta dropped hers on the floor and then dragged herself to a chair in the corner.
Kitchen Sister Kathleen prepared a dried-out turkey with all the fixings, and we topped off the night with scoops of ice cream. The ice cream made me think of Shimmy and listening to “Rock and Roll” on the jukebox. If it weren’t for that day, I probably wouldn’t be stuck here. I’d be home with my real family. Now, with Bubbles and Georgia Mae gone, only Loretta and I were left in the attic room, but with her deep misery it felt like I was all alone.
The following Saturday we were in the kitchen snapping green beans when Loretta’s birth pains started. They escalated quickly, and by the time Mother Margaret had summoned the tall nurse, it seemed like the baby was nearly out. A few hours later, I was permitted to visit Loretta and bring her dinner. She was in the same back room where Georgia Mae delivered, and as I waddled in, I couldn’t stop picturing them holding Georgia Mae down and snatching away her baby.
“He looks like Rucker,” Loretta said, holding him up so that I could see him.
“He’s beautiful,” I said, and he was. Fast asleep and bundled in a light blue receiving blanket, he looked like a baby cherub.
“I wish my mom was here.” She teared up. “I hate that we have to go through this alone. It’s just not fair.”
“Everything will be fine,” I leaned in and whispered.
“It’s not. I see why Bubbles ran away. I wish I could do the same thing.” She pulled the baby to her chest and her body shook with tears. “Rucker hasn’t even had the decency to respond to my letters.”
All I could do was pat her thigh and tell her over and over again that it was going to be all right, but I’m not sure she heard me. Then I remembered what I had overheard.
“When I was here helping Georgia Mae, I heard Mother Margaret say that your baby was going to a doctor’s family. He’ll be well cared for, Loretta. He’ll have a good life.”
She brightened just a little, but then she looked down at her tiny son and howled.