The pair became inseparable as Maria sought comfort from the only other woman in the house. They shared gossip and discussed do-it-yourself projects, which served to distract Maria from whatever caused her moods. Amelia found great pleasure and relief in it as well. Their closeness dissipated a little of the intense fury she felt toward her husband after his fight with Stone.
“I just feel so bad for Cole,” Maria whispered as she stood within the white glow of Amelia’s closet light. “He doesn’t speak much about anything at all, but you can tell he’s upset.”
“Michael said he mentioned seeing Stone not too long ago.”
“What?” Maria shouted, almost angry no one told the news sooner.
“Yeah, Stone had him toss some belongings from the window. Said he wouldn’t even let him run out to hug him.”
“What’s that boy gotten himself into?” Maria’s eyes rolled, as she brought a blush brush to her face, finally smoothing out the streaks of unblended makeup. “Why didn’t Cole try to stop him or something?”
“Well, from what Michael said, it’s sad…because you know,” her voice softened as she leaned closer to Maria, “their mother was -- is -- a junkie and what-not. Anyway, Michael was angry with Cole for not trying to stop him or waking any of us up. Cole apparently said something to the effect that, ‘People are going to do what they want to do, regardless of what you want for them, just as our mother always did.’”
“That poor boy. That breaks my heart. My aunt’s such a disgusting human being. She left those boys broken, I tell you.”
The women’s gossip was true. Cole did say those words and his mother did leave them broken. She pursued her addictions every day of the week. Drugs were her lover and her children stayed home for hours unsupervised, like house sitters, starting from a very young age.
Cole never talked much anyway, but, after the fight, he retreated further into his introspective shell than ever before. He only offered input when directly addressed and left his family struggling to comfort him, but he didn’t need it. A very young man, yet an interior life more suitable to a much older person left him numb to other people’s drama and their seemingly shallow talk. He repressed disturbing thoughts when around others, but secretly meditated on them when alone. People are going to do what they want, regardless of what you want for them. His mother regularly promised them she’d take them on these wildly exciting activities for behaving well and not burning the house down while she visited her friends.
…
Cole’s memory revisited a painful scenario. “We’ll go to the state fair tonight, my precious boys!” their mother exclaimed, while hugging their waist-level heads tightly to her. The boys longed for motherly embraces; needed to feel her love the way a man who’s starving to death needs food to sustain him. A constant desire for their mother to see them, to really love them, filled their young hearts.
Their spirits always rose to meet her sweet words and promises. Each time this scenario played out, the little boys thought, This is going to be the night. The promises and plans she laid out convinced them so thoroughly that they took the bait time and time again. When she returned, they showered and dressed and she even made a big show of checking the showtimes. She went so far as to get them situated in the car. Then they left the house for their fun-filled night with mommy -- the beautiful woman that held their innocent little boy hearts in her hands. Cole and Stone chattered excitedly about the rides they wanted to go on and the snacks they hoped to eat in bundles.
“Alright, my sweeties, mama needs to stop by real quick-like and say hi to her special friend. Y’all sit tight!” She winked at them as she pulled up to her boyfriend’s apartment. Immediately their faces dropped as they struggled to not believe what they already knew. They weren’t going to the fair and she would not get back to the car anytime soon.
Of course, they didn’t understand what she had been doing, their minds so soft and innocent didn’t know what addiction was. They didn’t know what illegal drugs were in a formal sense, despite the fact that the boys saw and smelled them on a regular basis. They didn't know anything about sobriety or intoxication, they just knew that their mother always returned a completely different person. She wasn't their real mother -- just a liar in her skin bearing false promises and poor attempts at apologies.
Stone always vocalized his disappointments, crying and whining to her when she returned, but Cole stayed quiet because he knew how angry she got when Stone started his protests.
Past experience taught him at a very young age that people were going to do exactly as they wanted, no matter what their loved ones wanted or needed. Words, debates, and prayers yielded no fruit for in the past, so when his brother refused him that night, he knew not to put up a fight. It was up to him to keep that love warm, to bury it deep within him so disappointment had no power to extinguish it. He buried it so deep, the faintest pain couldn’t break through; a trait that convinced many he didn’t care, or that he had some sort of emotional deficit. He was as normal as possible under the circumstances, just broken. He kept himself glued together the only way he knew how.
…
In Irondale, the men climbed upon the humongous structure of solar panels, making their way along the walkways that stretched over the neighborhood. The great ball of fire in the sky finally lent its heat to the walkways once it crested over the mountains in the distance.
Back at the house, the women were fully dressed and ready for their jobs, but couldn’t leave due to Maria and her near constant nausea. She began vomiting more than it seemed possible for someone her size. Something is really wrong, Amelia thought.
“I don’t understand,” Maria insisted, wiping her face clean with a wet cloth Amelia handed her. “It’s gone on too long to be anything I ate.”
“Well, I can take you by our doctor’s house. In fact, I insist on it. I’m going to call in.”
“Please don’t, ‘Milia, I’m fine. I’ve made you late too many times as it is.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry, girl. We gotta get you taken care of. Get you better.”
“What doctor? The Rendas?”
“Yeah, sometimes I forget you grew up here.” Amelia laughed as she exited the bathroom to let Cole know they were leaving.
He sat upright on the living room couch, unaware of her presence. He was in class and wore a virtual reality headset over his eyes and ears, listening to the teacher drone on and on about Sumerians and their contributions to humanity. Apparently, they were credited as the first civilization to create and drink beer. And they drank it through straws! Now that was new and the thought disgusted him, but it was something he would like to try when no one was watching. Amelia didn’t want to interrupt his lesson, so she wrote a note and gently placed it next to him on the couch.
Afterward, she beaconed for a taxi and alerted Maria upon its arrival. The tiny two-seater car pulled up and its doors flung open, allowing them to climb inside.
“Good morning! Hope all is well, be sure to buckle your belts!” the taxi’s speakers greeted them as the seats calculated their weight letting it know they had secured themselves. The vehicles never wrecked, but continued to warn, command, and make their disclaimers known, in accordance with the law.
The doctor-couple the ladies journeyed to see, practiced from their home. They treated, cured, and advised neighborhood families who couldn’t afford the high costs at the clinics and hospitals, or who didn’t have the Unity insurance. For many, the state provided cost-free insurance coverage, but only to those holding a taxable job, something many in the Church didn’t have.
…
When they arrived, the Rendas greeted the two women warmly and welcomed them into their home. The couple led them down a set of stairs into the basement, which served as their offices and exam room. A variety of devices and supplies crowded the examining area. They frequented auctions to obtain the things they needed. They had replaced flooring themselves with special tiles and a medical-grade coatin
g, easily cleaned and sterilized for their patients.
“So, Maria,” Paul began, his jet-black hair, ungreyed, covered the dome of his head like a forest of curly needles, “it’s been a long time since we’ve gotten a visit from you. Must’ve been taking your vitamins!” He laughed.
"We've missed you, Maria," Sandra added. She sat very close to her husband. She always spoke with deepest sincerity; her thin lips smiling as she gently chided their patient, “You don’t have to get sick to visit, you know.”
“I know. I just moved back into town. My husband and I were living in the city.”
“Ah, well. What’s going on today, or should I say this week, as Amelia mentioned?”
“I feel like I’ve been falling apart and haven’t been much use lately" Maria explained as tears fell freely from her eyes. She wrapped her hair around the right side of her neck as she continued to describe her torment, “I don’t understand what the hell is happening. Feels like I’m barely getting any sleep. I’ve had many headaches and been dizzy for several days now. My back’s hurting and for these past two days, I’ve been vomiting.”
Sandra’s pupils widened. She concentrated on trying to understand the reason for Maria’s tears, caught off guard by her shift in emotion, “Oh, sweetie, why the tears? Is it your headache?”
“No, head’s fine at the moment, I’ve just been so miserable. One minute everything’s fine and I think I’m getting better. Then the next, I feel awful again and it just makes me so upset. I just want to feel better. I’m so damn exhausted.”
“Y’all want any drinks? Water or anything?” Paul asked awkwardly, scratching his scalp.
“Do y’all?” Sandra asked them again.
“A cure!” Maria laughed, wiping her tears away along with the grief.
Paul took the chance to retreat upstairs, hoping his wife would follow. He didn’t want to raise suspicion in their patients, so he’d make excuses about getting drinks or snacks from time-to-time, but it was really code for Sandra to meet him upstairs.
While pouring himself sweet tea over ice, a realization dawned over him. His face transitioned from the blank expression of preoccupied thought to the terror of the possibilities as he meditated on Maria's symptoms. They had been so familiar many years ago, now nonexistent and nearly forgotten, the sound of bells began to ring deep within that dusty part of Paul’s mind as the most probable diagnosis took form.
“Not possible. Couldn’t be,” he mumbled to himself in the kitchen, before he called his wife from the doorway above the stairs. To his relief, he finally heard her light footsteps leading up the wooden staircase. The door opened, she slipped in, and closed it behind her.
“Pretty weird, huh?” Sandra asked quietly, her arms folded at her waist.
“Yes. I’m not sure what concerns me more, verifying our suspicions, or finding we have to look for other causes. There are a few things it could be, and I really can’t think of one that ends well. Let’s take it a step at a time and not get ahead of ourselves, honey.”
“I’m going to do some blood work on her…and crank up the ultrasound. I’m worried that it could be ovarian cancer or some other similarly serious condition. I’d really hate that for her.”
“Could be psychological, for all we know.”
"Could be pregnancy, too," Sandra blurted out her words quickly, looking out the window at squirrels digging into the ground. Their tails flicked around spastically, as they caught sight of her in the window.
“It’s hard for me to take that possibility seriously.”
“Just saying, you and I’ve witnessed a lot of strange, horrible, and even miraculous things in our careers. If she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant.”
“What sort of world do we live in, where that would be as bad, if not worse, than ovarian cancer? Don’t think I’d call it a miracle.”
The doctors made their way down into the subterranean office, carrying snacks and drinks, their hospitality meant to conceal the reason for their absence. Maria’s spirit raised as she caught sight of the chips they carried, hoping they were for her. She always like chips, but recently she almost craved them. She thought it strange that they happened to have some on hand.
“Alright, sweetie, we’re need you to drink some water if you don’t mind. Drink as much as you can. We need to fill that bladder up.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Let us worry about that. You just relax. We’ll know soon enough," Paul cooed, handing her bottled water after cracking the cap for her. "We just have to be thorough and run our tests."
“Fair enough.”
Amelia eyeballed the basket of snacks and spotted a candy bar underneath the bags of chips. Her mood elevated as she stood and began digging through the snacks to grab it. Maria laughed and watched her as she carried the candy back to her seat, sneakily, as if someone might scold her.
“Maria,” Sandra began, grabbing her attention, "I don't want any of us jumping to conclusions here, okay?" Maria nodded her head nervously. "But we have some questions for you."
“I understand," Maria’s voice elevated slightly, her patience dwindling away, since the doctor seemed to avoid getting around to her point. Amelia stopped munching so loudly on the crunchy bar, her ears perked up, so she could hear the upcoming questions. There was something different about Sandra’s tone, a calm seriousness acting as a great levee between her and horrific possibilities.
“Do you,” she grabbed Maria’s hands, “for any reason at all, think you may be pregnant?”
Shock stormed Maria’s face as her lips began to stammer at the sound of the word. She stared blankly at the doctor, attempted to connect dots of her own, her mind flooded with thoughts, like fish over rapids. The pressure in her head grew and she fell into the back of her chair, gazing at the ceiling and its bright fluorescent light hanging above them. At this point, Amelia stopped her munching entirely, swallowing her half-chewed mouthful of chocolate and peanuts.
“Pregnant?” The single word made its way from her mouth, raising and lowering over and between the consonants and vowels.
“Y’all think she’s pregnant? What?” Amelia asked loudly, breaking her long silence.
“Ladies,” Paul warned, disappointed that her answer hadn’t been a yes, “don’t mistake us. That’s likely not what is happening. We all know there hasn’t been a natural pregnancy in nearly fifteen years. We just need to know if it’s what you suspect might be causing these symptoms.”
“No, of course not,” she spluttered, snapping herself out of a trance. “Never even crossed my mind. Why?”
“Sometimes, if someone believes they’re pregnant, it can produce the same symptoms without there being any pregnancy at all.” The calm expression on Sandra’s face started to fade away. Amelia could see the effects of worry drawing itself up in the doctor’s brow and in her sparkling black eyes.
“What else could it be?”
“Hopefully, we’ll know soon enough.” Paul grabbed a bottle of KY jelly from a shelf and flipped on the ultrasound machine.
“Here, honey.” He handed the lubricant to his wife who donned her gloves and began squeezing it out on to her left hand.
“Now, sweetie, I need you to lift your shirt for me,” she instructed Maria, who was fascinated by the doctor holding her hand out, covered in large amounts of clear jelly. “Dim the lights, Paul.”
“Is that what you always say when you get ahold of the lube?” Maria joked crudely, catching everyone off guard in the tense moment. Sandra found it hilarious as she tried applying the self-warming liquid to her patient’s abdomen between bursts of laughter that brought her to tears. Her humor ignited the spark of a flame in a dark cavern, making light through the worst of situations.
The guests looked at the screen as if they could understand anything on the display -- as if they could understand anything the doctors tried to explain to them -- like birds reading words.
“You see this little blob here, that’s an ovary.”<
br />
“Mhm,” Maria lied, trying to make out what she pointed to. The whole screen seemed to be covered in blobs and swirls, and the sight of it with the scent of the gel made her nauseous.
“What do you think, Paul? You’ve always been a better reader,” she asked, moving the scanner in small circles, unable to detect anything out of the ordinary. “Hmmm, looks good. Check the left one. Fallopian tubes look great as well. Appear normal and healthy.”
“I don’t see any cysts or growths of any sort.”
“Neither do I. All looks really good, Maria,” he told her, patting her shoulder, his round face and chin illuminated by the screen before him.
After quickly wiping Maria clean, Sandra removed her gloves and tossed them into the empty trashcan beside her. The two doctors, stood, facing each other silently for a moment as if communicating by telepathy. Sandra felt a little more hopeful that surgery would probably not going to be necessary. It had been a while since she had held a knife to a patient.
Paul began to fear the inevitable, diagnosing life, the possibility of impossibilities. The thoughts began to crush his mind, removing all reason and inserting conclusions of the illogical and absurd, until all knowledge he thought he had was reduced to the understanding of a child. Once again, his world shifted beneath his feet, the laws and forces of nature started to make less sense as they revealed themselves to him like laughter in the corners of his brain.
“I’ve also not been able to read thoughts lately,” Maria quipped sarcastically, grabbing the couple’s attention. The silence between them made her and Amelia uneasy, as they waited, unsure if they were in the eye of a storm or if the storm had yet to arrive.
“Everything looks fine, Maria,” Sandra smiled sweetly, her eyes still holding some sadness deep within them, “as far as your reproductive health goes.”
Sowing Season Page 9
