Sunday, December 22, 2013

Bella Notte


Gina got up from the big armchair, the backache she had been feeling the whole afternoon started to get worse. Joe was asleep on the couch. The book he had been reading lay on his chest. She gently picked it up and placed it on the small side table. His eyelids shivered but he didn’t wake. The house creaked in the cold; this night was predicted to be colder than the last.
The ambers in the fireplace were almost out so she grabbed the poker and stirred until a few flames came back to life. She bent down and picked up two logs of wood and put them on top. Then a strong urge  came over her. She ran quickly across the small house.
The bathroom was cold and cramped, she felt gigantic in there with her big belly. The baby wasn’t due for another four weeks. She sat down on the bowl. Ouch, her stomach hurt now!  Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? When she wiped and saw the pinkish red on the paper she shook her head.
“No, no, no! Not yet! Not now! Not tonight!”
The pain in her back escalated and she had to take a deep breath.
“Fuck! Not now!”
The long walk from that morning flashed before her eyes. They had walked through the deep snow for over an hour. The spruce had been covered in blankets of snow, the crossbills had been chirping, spilling flakes from the cones on the white snow. The creek, a stream of black ink and the sky endlessly blue.  She hadn’t felt tired. She hadn’t felt any strain. Only a profound sense of calmness.

Another knife in her back, she leaned against the wall and whimpered. When the sharpness slowed down, she opened the door and walked back to Joe. He was still sleeping.
“Joe.” She had to clear her throat. “Joe!” she said a little louder. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I think…” she started then the pain stopped her. He flew off the couch and ran up to her.
“Is it the baby?”
She nodded, the pain reached its peak and then it diminished again.
“Shit!” He stood frozen for a second, and then he picked her up and put her down on the couch. “Lay here and I will get the car ready.”  He looked down at his hands; it looked like he was counting on his fingers. “And I will call the doctor and your mother and pack a bag.”
He ran towards the bedroom with his cellphone in his hand.
“Fuck, no signal.”

Gina closed her eyes, the thought of being up here alone for the weekend had been wonderful. Only the two of them before the baby came. No family, no parties, nowhere to go.  No calls, no emails, no Facebook, no Google+. Just the two of them in peace and quiet.
“I will call from the road,” Joe said and disappeared into the bedroom. 
She lay on her side, waiting for the next contraction. When it came she tried to remember to breathe. Deep in and out. They only last for about a minute. A minute is nothing. She could hold her breath under water for a minute.

Seven contractions later Joe had helped her out of the house and on number eight he started the car. They drove slowly down the dark road. The snow crunching under the tires, the sky crystal clear and the moon a silver coin.
Joe called the doctor and her mother. She could tell that both parties in the conversation couldn’t really hear. Another contraction interrupted her train of thought. Oh holy moly it hurt.
“Sing to me,” she whispered, “Joe, sing to me.”
He hummed a few tones, then he started to sing.
“It is a little bit funny this feeling inside…”
Gina listened to his voice, the next contraction was worse than before, she whimpered and Joe stopped singing.
“No, no, no, don’t stop.”
He started again and she focused on the words and Joe’s voice. Then something warm gushed down her legs.
“My water broke.”
“Now? Here in the car?”
Joe’s voice filled with stress and panic.
“Yes, here in the car.
The deer appeared out of nowhere on the moonlit road.
“Joe!” she screamed and pointed.

He tried to steer to the side, he pumped the break but it was too late. The thud went straight through her body, then the windshield cracked and she tried to crouch down but her belly was in the way. An eternity passed until the car finally stopped on the side of the road with the bumper buried in the snowbank.

Both of them were panting hard and looking at each other. Gina felt the tears close by. This was not how she had imagined being in labor. On a dark road in the middle of nowhere with deer blood all over a broken window.
“Are you ok?” Joe reached out his hand and put it on her arm.
She nodded but couldn’t speak. If she did she would for certain start to cry.
“You have to go out and see if it is dead,” she said.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes.”

He looked at her, pulled his eyebrows together and pursed his lips but stepped out of the car. She heard his footsteps descending and then approaching again. She waited, surprised over that the contractions had stopped.  He wiped his hands on his pants before he climbed in.
“Was it dead?”
He nodded.
“Did you pull it to the side?”
He nodded again and reached for the key, he turned it, the car sputtered but did not start.
“No! This is not happening!” He turned the key again. The same thing, car sputtered but refused to start.
“I will call,” he stopped short. He didn’t know who to call. An ambulance? A tow truck? It would probably take an hour for an ambulance to find its way out here. Did anyone even work at the mechanics today? And he didn’t even remember the number.  They couldn’t walk back to the house; they were at least three miles away by now.

Now Gina couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
“I don’t want to give birth in a car. I don’t want to give birth in a car!”
Joe leaned over the steering wheel, not responding to her pleading voice.
“You won’t.” He lifted his head from the  wheel and looked at her. “You won’t. There is an old barn up here.” He pointed into the woods and Gina shivered. “I will carry you there and then I will walk across the woods and get Mr. Hirt. He will help us.”
Gina shook her head.
“No, I would rather stay in the car.”
Joe opened the car door again and stepped out.
“Not a chance that I will leave you in a car on a dark road on Christmas Eve. Do you have any idea how drunk people get up here? Someone might come along and drive straight into the car.”
She covered her eyes and shook her head.
“Shit, no, shit,” she mumbled into her hands. And where had the contractions gone? She put her hands around her belly and whispered.
“Are you ok in there? Just stay put a little longer. Wait until we are at the hospital. Just stay in there. You are safe in there.”

Joe opened the door on her side; he had put on his hiking back pack and strapped their car blanket on top of it.
“Ok darling.” He reached out his hand and she took it. She didn’t want to leave the car, wanted to stay in the familiar smell, the familiar surroundings but Joe pulled on her hand and she stepped out.
“I can walk,” she said and he nodded.

The snow reached up over her boots as they walked between the trees. The full moon turned the snow into an extraordinary blue.   After a few minutes in the deep snow she felt the first contraction since they hit the deer. Not as intense as before but at least it was there. She stood still as it peaked and then she started to walk again.

The barn was old, crooked and smelled of old hay and coldness. She stood in the dark and watched as Joe walked around with his flashlight and gathered up hay in a pile in a corner. He spread out the blanket on top. Gina looked down at her feet, felt another contraction rush through her body. The pain grew, grew and then started to diminish again. Curves of pain, up to the top of the hill and then downhill again. Rest in the valleys, collect strength, gather your thoughts.

Joe left her with the flashlight and his jacket. He walked out the door in his fleece and the dark grew twice as penetrating.  At first she sat on the blanket but soon  got up, walked over to the door and stood in the opening and looked at the moon. The contractions grew longer, stronger, shorter time in between. Held onto her cellphone, hoping that the signal would be there if she needed it.

He had walked these woods a hundred times in his life. In the summers he had used to run here with his dog Lady and he could make it to Mr. Hirt’s house from his parents in less than twenty minutes. Tonight, the distance was enormous.

All the lights were off in the house as he came running up the driveway. As soon as he got into the yard the dogs in the pen started to bark and before he had arrived at the door the outdoor light was turned on. He slipped and almost fell headfirst into the stone steps. The door opened and Mr. Hirt filled the whole door opening. Still a strong man even though he had passed seventy a few years ago. His father’s best friend, sturdy, deep laugh, next to his mother by the grave on that cold and rainy March day.  Joe was breathing heavily, he tried to get the words out he barely managed.
“What has happened boy?”  Mr. Hirt put a hand on his shoulder.
“Gina, the baby…”
“The baby is coming?”
Joe nodded and tried to catch his breath. The air was ice in his throat.
“Where is she?”
He pointed up the road.
“The old barn. We hit a deer. The car won’t start.”
Mr. Hirt stood completely still for a moment.
“I will get Angela.
Joe coughed hard, he was very close to throwing up.
“You go back to Gina.” Mr. Hirt’s voice was stern. “I will get Angela and then I will get to you with the horse and sled.”
“Angela?” Joe stuttered.
“The old midwife in town. She does home births now. She will know what to do.
Joe almost said “the hippie” but he held back on his words. Angela lived alone in a small house not far from Mr. Hirt. Already as a boy he had understood that the men gladly stole an extra glance at her as she walked by in her long dresses and jangly bracelets.
Mr. Hirt pushed him on the shoulder.
“Go!”
Joe stumbled down the steps and started to run back to Gina.

The water kept dripping out and made her wetter and colder so she pulled off her tights and wrapped the blanket around her waist. Crouched down on the floor, felt the weight, the heaviness in between her legs. One, two, three contractions in a row and now she threw up on the floor. When the next contraction came she screamed from the top of her lungs.
“Joe! Where the fuck are you!!!!”
The last one took a toll on her energy, she dropped down on all fours, rested and then he was there. There with his voice, his warm hands on her back, moved her long hair out of the way.
“Darling.” His voice was close to her.
“Joe, the baby is coming soon.”
“Shhh, Mr Hirt will be here soon. He is bringing a midwife.

Gina leaned against him. Couldn’t even complain anymore. All her strength was centered somewhere deep low down in her body.
How many more could she stand, how many more would come? Joe made her drink some Gatorade  that he had fished out of his bag pack. Then she was sure she heard sleigh bells. The pain was playing tricks on her. Then there was light.

A woman in a fur coat and long grey hair stood in the barn. She held up a lantern in her hand and looked straight at Gina. The light from the lantern was warm, welcome, comforting.  The woman walked straight up to her as she leaned against Joe.
“How are the contractions? Stronger? Closer together? Water broke?”
Gina nodded.   
“Any downward pressure? An urge to empty the bowels?”
Gina shook her head.
The woman smiled and caressed her cheek.
“Soon enough. You are close now. The pain won’t get any worse. Try to stay upright, it helps with opening the womb.”
“But,” Joe said, “the hospital.”
Angela shook her head. “Too late for that. Either the contractions will stop or the baby will be born on the road. Neither good.”
The woman walked out the door again and came back with Mr. Hirt, who carried a big bag.  They pulled out several white sheets from it and covered the hay Joe had gathered up before.

Was it five, was it ten or was it fifteen contractions later when, she suddenly felt a different sensation? She could feel she wanted to push. Oh, the urge was so strong. Angela must have sensed it because suddenly she was there.  Removed the blanket, sat down, put her warm palm on her vagina and applied a slight pressure. Angela lifted her head and smiled broadly.
“Yes, you are ready.
She led her over to the sheets.
“Push when the urge comes, rest in-between. Let your body dictate. Follow the rhythm and this baby will be out in no time.”
Gina was about to lay down when Angela grabbed her hand and stopped her.
“No, not on your back. Use gravity. Kneel or crouch. Do you want Joey to hold you?
Gina nodded and Joe came over. Angela showed him how he could hold around her body so she didn’t have to put all her weight on her legs.

These contractions were different. They were filled with purpose. She pushed when her body told her to. Angela was there, murmuring in her ear how strong she was. Joe’s arms were around her body. She could feel his chest against her back.
 A shorter time had passed than she thought was possible when Angela said she saw the baby’s head.
“Only a few more now. Don’t rush. Slow.”
She pushed a few more times and the overwhelming feeling of being stretched to the breaking point disappeared.
“One more Gina.”

One more and the baby was out. A piercing cry split the world in two. She slumped down, her legs shaking.  Angela urged her to open her blouse and the baby was placed on her naked skin. Slippery, wet, bloody and angry.
“If you can, let her nurse.”
Gina opened her bra; put the tiny girl to the breast and the baby greedily sucked. As the baby lay there Angela snipped the cord and tied it.
The placenta came out in an instant, the cold gone, the pain forgotten. Nothing else existed but her, Joe and the tiny girl on her chest.
Angela sat down next to them, caressed the almost hairless skull.
“Have you thought of a name?”
“Sofia,” Gina said.
“Wise,” Angela said. “Someone who has such an urgency to enter this world…” She stopped and smiled.

As the eastern sky turned into golden green Joe helped her out to the sled. Little Sofia, snug against her chest, sleeping with the nipple in her mouth.  She knew she was supposed to be exhausted but she felt light as a feather.

 

 

Sunday, December 1, 2013

The Hook (perhaps more a poem)


Every day we walked by the house.

Old and crooked. Built over a hundred years ago.

The foundation was an array of grey stones and clay.

In the back he had his sawhorse and his chopping block.

The wood he piled high. A round configuration. Perfect. Stable.

In the middle a hole so the wood wouldn’t rot.

 

In the afternoon after school he stood in the early autumn sun.

With great power he halved the wood. Threw the pieces over his shoulder.

We walked by slowly. Tried to catch a glimpse without being too obvious.

Sometimes we would even walk around the block so we had to pass twice.

The sun would reflect off the hook at the end of his left arm.

A cold, steely reflection.

And we were terrified.

A man with a hook! No hand! A hook!

Would he pull us into the shed and kill us with that big axe?

He must be dangerous, even evil.

 

A few years later my mother worked as a home care aid for the elderly.

The man got a name. The man got a history. We had failed to see the man.

The man behind the hook. The man behind our fears.

There was a gentle, intelligent man. A man who wanted to become a teacher.

But grew up in a poor farming family and had no choice but go to the saw mill.

As a fourteen year old. Haul heavy wood, watch out for the sharp saw blade.

Grow muscles on his back, his arms, and his shoulders.

A man who married a sweet woman, had children. A boy and a girl.

A man who was tired one cold winter morning. Walked the four miles to the mill.

His toe nails almost cracked in the cold. A few hundred miles away Europe was on fire.

A war tore through the continent. He was tired this morning. Maybe coming down with the flu.

And his hands slipped. A fraction to the side and the saw blade tore through his arm.

 Blood sprayed on the snow.

“Good thing it was cold,” the doctor said “the blood moves slower in the cold.”

 

On his bookshelf, in front of, August Strindberg, Leo Tolstoy and Ernest Hemingway.

In front of his books stood the brand new prosthetic hand. Pink, a dead piece of rubber.

He refused to use it. Felt handicapped wearing it. Had gotten used to the hook.

Controlled it, never slipped, not even a fraction as he halved the wood in the early autumn sun.