Unbroken Love_Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  He sighed loudly and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. “I knew you would get cold feet. I knew you didn’t love me enough to go through with this.”

  “I love you,” she insisted, wrapping her arms around him. That wasn’t the problem at all. “I-I’m sorry. You’re right. This is the right thing to do.”

  “There’s my girl,” he said, some of the anger leaving his expression. “This is the right thing to do, Eva.”

  She nodded, though in her heart, she still had doubts. She didn’t want to lose him and wanted to trust that he was marrying her because he loved her.

  Hugging him tighter, she hoped that he was right, that this was the right thing to do.

  Because she had no other choice.

  “Twenty one?”

  “That’s us,” he responded.

  Eva removed her arms from around him, standing up as he did. She swallowed her fears and followed him to the registrar, attempting to smile as the dour faced man looked at them both, his eyes flickering to her bump barely concealed by her dress.

  She could only imagine what he was thinking and her cheeks flushed. Yes, she had experienced sex outside of wedlock. Yes, she had enjoyed it immensely. And yes, she was pregnant.

  But this was different.

  Their case was not like the rest.

  She loved him and he loved her. Their child would be born in a loving household. They were making this official so that the child could have two parents, two loving people who clearly loved each other as well.

  “Please join hands,” the registrar said, clearing his throat as he opened the book before him.

  Eva’s hands trembled as she turned toward him and took his hands, forcing a smile as he looked at her.

  This was going to work. She just knew it.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday, December 21, 1988

  11:00 p.m.

  Few things in life truly prepared a woman for pregnancy and in Eva’s case, losing her mother, cutting ties with her father, and moving to Ireland left her floundering.

  It should be the ultimate feminine experience—perhaps even the ultimate human experience—and quite happy. But as she raised, pulling up her eight-and-a-half months rotund belly, wobbling to the bathroom once again to pee in the middle of another sleepless night thanks to the tiny human skull of her baby pressing against her bladder, she felt miserable.

  How had her life taken such a drastic turn?

  She had thought she was doing the right thing, marrying the father of her child and love of her life. She had turned her back on her father and the rest of her family and moved to Ireland against their wishes, cutting all ties with them for the last few months.

  All to have him turn his back on her as well.

  Turning on the bathroom light, Eva looked at herself in the mirror. The reflection staring back did not look familiar to her. The haggard look of her features, the bags under her eyes, that was not what she had envisioned to look like right before she brought this precious child into the world. She imagined having the glow that everyone talked about, and that, coupled with the glow of love from him, nothing would make her regret this decision.

  But she regretted every bit of it.

  Lowering herself to the toilet, she waited for the small amount of pee that would emanate from her body. It was really ridiculous how many times she had to pee in a day now.

  Idly, Eva wondered what Brenda was doing back home, if she was missing her cousin and worrying about not having any contact with her. Eva wanted to, but had ceased to ask to use the telephone after her first few attempts to do so. What was she going to tell them anyway? That she had made a mistake? That the man she thought loved her was really only after her money?

  Now that he couldn’t gain access even as her husband, his contact with her was nearly non-existent.

  A tear escaped her eye and Eva swiped at it angrily. She was so stupid! So naive to think that he would love her!

  A sudden gush between her legs caught her attention and Eva felt a tiny prick of pain as she realized that her water had just broken.

  Oh no. She wasn’t ready to have this baby! There was no one to call for, no one to help her heave herself off the toilet as she waddled out to the bedroom, yanking the door open.

  The man that was stationed there eyed her suspiciously as her back spasmed in pain, nearly buckling her knees in the process. “It’s time,” she panted, sending him running down the hall. It was time to have her child.

  Chapter 8

  Friday, December 23, 1988

  1:15 p.m.

  Now, more than ever, she regretted not having taken her father’s advice. But it was too late.

  Eva had thought her father prejudiced then; greedy for not wanting to share his wealth with the poorer; old-fashioned for not believing in the possibility of a gentle and pacific society where money or position didn’t matter and sex was engaged in freely.

  Her gaze wandered over the almost empty windowless ceremonial birth room, paused on the door for a second and went back to the woman. She knew she was trapped and could only rely now on the women in front of her. “Help me, please. Help my baby. I’ll give you anything you desire. Money—”

  She stopped because she remembered she had no money. Her mother had left her inheritance tied in a trust and the trustee was her father. She didn’t even try to call him asking for money after she eloped from their home.

  Her father had just foreseen the utopia that had been preached would never be realized when using psychedelic drugs and surrendering freedom of choice—and it goes without saying, all your wealth—were prerequisites.

  But Eva wasn’t so sure she believed any of it now.

  What she had anticipated happening in her life and what was happening now, well, they weren’t even close. He spouted words of reckoning, words that were bringing many to their knees in thanksgiving, but Eva was starting to think she was living in some sort of weird alternative lifestyle, one that was likely going to continue to ruin her life.

  “Please,” she whispered, broken from what she had learned since her time here. There was no one to help her, no one that was willing to step out of the line that was drawn for them.

  He clearly wasn’t going to help her any longer. He had gotten what he wanted—or rather, hadn’t gotten, and when she had disappointed him, he had turned his back on her and their baby.

  The old midwife looked from Eva to the man, and lastly to his mother, fear as clear in her eyes as the blood was bright in the sheets she was hurriedly throwing in a basket and substituting for new ones. “We should take her to a hospital.”

  Maybe the old woman would be more compassionate than the husband.

  “Nonsense. What she needs is a cup of yagé. It’ll help the delivery,” the old woman said, and walked to a corner in the room and brought back a small silver cup, handing it to the midwife. “Make her drink.”

  “But…”

  “Make her drink.”

  The midwife went to the bed. “It’ll calm your nerves and ease your labor pains.”

  His mother nodded before asking, “And the baby?”

  He shrugged. “Put it with the other orphans and find it a wet nurse.”

  Eva cinched her arms tightly around her distended abdomen. She didn’t want her child to be born in such a place. She didn’t want her baby put up with the orphans.

  “What is it?” she asked in a whisper, eyeing as the midwife.

  “Yagé,” said the midwife.

  But before she could help Eva drink the concoction, another contraction ripped through her body, tearing a scream from her throat, “I’m gonna die!”

  The midwife looked up from where she was squatted. “She is going to die, my lord.”

  “Well, we all have to die one day.” He looked from the midwife, to his wife convulsing on the bed, and up to his mother. “I’ll go and pray for her poor soul.”

  Eva barely heard him, not caring if he was present for the birth or not anymore. Sh
e had thought he loved her, that he loved this child they had created together, but it was all an illusion, one that she had seen far too late to do anything about.

  Another pain ripped through her body and she screamed, allowing all her frustration to escape through her.

  Pain.

  They hadn’t given her anything, they hadn’t taken her to a proper hospital to deliver this baby as she had anticipated. No, she was giving birth in the most horrid of conditions, with people that could care less if she or her baby survived.

  The midwife shook her head as she peered between Eva’s legs, her hands coming back bloody. “The baby is tearing her apart.”

  “Deliver it and be done with it,” the other woman snapped, her eyes on Eva’s face. “We don’t have all day.”

  Eva wanted to tell them not to touch her, but she couldn’t find the strength, bearing down as the pain intensified, ripping her from the inside out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

  “Push, girl,” the midwife urged. “Get this over with.”

  “I—I can’t!” Eva cried out, her hands clutching the sweat and blood soaked sheets. “Please, help me!”

  The midwife raised her head and locked eyes with Eva over her distended belly. “Push, or you and the baby are gonna die.”

  No, not her precious child! She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  With the last little bit of her strength, Eva beared down and pushed, screaming as she felt the baby pass through the birth canal, each frisson of pain urging her on, telling her it was going to be over with soon.

  “That’s it,” the midwife coached. “Almost there!”

  Eva let out a last, hoarse scream before she felt the pressure disappear, her vision blurring as she heard the first weak cry of her baby.

  “It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, but Eva barely heard her, her consciousness drifting. She had done it. She had given birth. All was going to be well.

  “Will she live?” his mother asked softly, watching as the midwife wiped the copious amounts of blood from the baby’s tiny body, clamping the cord with her quick hands.

  “The girl or the baby?” the midwife hissed, clearly not happy about the turn of events.

  “Either,” his mother grumbled, as the midwife attempted to stave the bleeding.

  “B-baby,” Eva said weakly, barely able to lift her head off the pillow. “My baby. Please.”

  The midwife could not answer, her throat had closed and there were tears in her eyes as she put the little baby girl in Eva’s arms. The new mother could barely hold onto the squirming baby girl and the midwife was forced to place her arms around the trembling mother’s to keep the baby from falling onto the floor.

  “I—I’m not going to make it, am I?” Eva asked, her face a deathly shade of pale. She could feel the life draining out of her now, a horrible cold settling into her bones that seemed to be too hard to overcome.

  “Shh, now,” the midwife said, wiping the young girl’s face with a wet rag. “Focus on your baby.”

  Eva looked down at the tiny life in her arms, tears crowding her eyes.

  She wished for her father to be here, Brenda, anyone that could take this precious bundle away to a better life. She didn’t want her child to grow up in this place! Looking up at the woman, she could barely make out her outline. “H-here,” she said, her voice faint to her own ears. “Please, take care of her. Don’t let these people destroy her.”

  The midwife took the small baby in her arms, her expression sympathetic to the young mother. “I won’t, I promise she will have a good life.”

  Eva nodded, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. “Thank you.”

  The midwife bit her lip as she watched the young woman’s eyes flutter and close, as one last shuddering breath left her broken body before all went quiet.

  Chapter 9

  April 1994

  “Where is she! I swear, if you have lost her yet again...”

  “I haven’t, I swear. She was just here. Likely she’s hiding.”

  “Find her and bring her here. He wants to see her.”

  The little girl crouched in the shadows of the table, the tablecloth covering her small frame. She liked to play hide and seek with them, making them think that she had disappeared like they told her she should have. Under the table she could pretend she was anyone, anywhere.

  “Come on out. I know you are in here. Please. I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

  She didn’t want her to get in trouble either. If she didn’t come out, there would be no food for her tonight, her stomach already growling for the soup she would be fed. Maybe she should come out of her hiding place. That way they both didn’t get into trouble.

  Crawling on the cold, stone floor, she popped out from under the table. “I’m here.”

  The young girl turned around, hurrying toward her and pulling her to her feet. “Thank God. Why are you hiding? Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to hit you?”

  She nodded. She was nicer than most, feeding her crackers when she had extras.

  The older girl sighed, brushing the dirt off her dress. “I don’t know why you run, really. You know you can’t get anywhere far. None of us can.”

  She bit her lip as the girl led her from the warmth of the kitchen, down the hall where the others were at. She didn’t like the others. They picked at her, said she was ugly and different than they were.

  She didn’t like it at all.

  The older woman was standing in the doorway as they approached the room, her hands clasped at her back. “You found her.”

  “I told you I knew where she was at,” the older girl stated, gripping her hand tightly. “She’s my responsibility. I know where she went.”

  The older woman sniffed, giving her the evil eye. “Don’t let it happen again. You might not be around to find her next time.”

  The child moved closer to the older girl as she felt the tremble go through her. She didn’t want anything to happen to the girl. She would try to be good for her and not run as much as she wanted to.

  Chapter 10

  June 2004

  She hurried down the hall, her slippers sliding on the floor as she turned the corner.

  She was late, and when they were late, there was punishment to be dealt. Pushing open the door, she skidded to a stop, all eyes on her as she walked into the room as if she weren’t late at all.

  “I told you she was going to be late.”

  “Why does she think she’s special? She’s no different than the lot of us.”

  She held her head up high as she walked past, taking her seat at the end of the long bench, tucking her hands in her lap.

  She didn’t think she was special at all. What did they see that she didn’t? She was treated the same—rather, she was treated worse than the rest of them. She didn’t even have a name.

  The side door opened and they all sat up a little straighter as he walked in the room, his billowing robes like black wings floating behind him. He had one for every day of the week, though Sundays were her favorite. On that day he wore pristine white, looking more like their leader and less like the formidable man that he was portraying right now.

  As he approached the bench, they all stood dutifully, with the older women behind them, waiting for one of them to step out of line so they could be punished. No one dared move, barely breathing as he started on the far end, inspecting each girl as he did every week. She felt as if they were being evaluated for something, though no one ever told them why he did this inspection or what the outcome was.

  But when one girl did not meet his expectations, well, they never saw her again.

  She kept her eyes lowered to the floor, attempting to watch from the corner of her eye as he moved slowly down the line, muttering comments too softly to hear to his advisor that followed him everywhere.

  From memory, she knew of his tall, lean frame, his hair the color of midnight, with graying at the temples.

  She thought of the shrewdness of his
gaze as he would look at her face, the brilliance of his blue eyes as they stared at her for a moment.

  There was no warmth in those depths, no emotions that would make her think that he saw them as anything other than objects.

  His shuffling grew nearer and she felt her heart race with anticipation that this would soon be over and she could go back to her duties, another week gone by that she was still here.

  They were not allowed to discuss this inspection and if they were overheard doing so, it was a week without food.

  No one wished for a week without food.

  Finally, his shiny shoes came into view and she ceased to breathe, feeling the coldness of his touch on her chin as he beckoned for her to meet his gaze.

  There was always something familiar about his gaze, as if she were looking into a mirror but was unable to understand the reflection. Not that they had similar eyes, no. Hers were a dismayed violet as the others liked to say—but there was something in those depths, a hatred and a longing which didn’t settle well on her.

  “Freak,” he said, his words like a whisper. “Who would have thought.”

  She wanted to ask what that meant, but again, talking to him without permission was worse than a week without food.

  He let out a breath, no emotions on his face as he dropped his hand, regarding her in awkward silence to the point that she wanted to say something just to get a stir out of him.

  “What is that?”

  She held her breath as he brushed her hair aside, hair that they were required to keep shoulder length and down when they were not performing their duties. She knew what he was talking about and wanted to sink into the floor. Normally she remembered to take it off, but she had been in such a hurry today that she forgot.