A Silver Willow by the Shore

by Kelli Stuart

  “Yes, my darling,” Nina croons. “I know. Did they give you something for the pain?”

  Annie shakes her head. “They said I’m too far along. It wouldn’t work in time to help me.”

  Nina walks around the other side of the bed and pushes against Annie’s back. Annie groans again as another wave of pain washes over her. “Mama!” she cries out. “Mama, help!”

  Nina sings softly as she kneads at the muscles in her daughter’s back. She sings the lullaby that she used to sing when Annie was little and got scared. It was the same song her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep. Softly, gently she croons the lullaby in Annie’s ear, soothing the fears of both of them.

  “A dream is wandering at night,

  A nap is following his way.

  A dream is asking, “Dear friend,

  Where shall we now stay?”

  “Where the house is warm,

  Where the baby is small.

  There, there we will stay,

  Lull and hush the baby-doll.”

  Annie reaches back and grabs her mother’s hand. “I’m scared,” she whispers.

  Nina leans forward and brushes her lips across Annie’s sweaty cheek. “I know,” she says. She smooths Annie’s hair back. “It’s okay to be scared.”

  The doctor bustles into the room with the nurse on her heels. “Hello, Miss Annie!” he says cheerfully. “I hear it’s time for you to have a baby.”

  Annie groans in reply and the doctor gently guides her to her back and checks her progress.

  “Alright, my dear,” he says. “This is happening very quickly. It’s time to push.”

  Annie looks up at Nina with shining eyes. “I can’t,” she cries. “I can’t do it. It’s too hard. It hurts too much. Mama, I can’t!”

  The fear in her voice tears at Nina’s heart. This is more than physical pain. She can see the emotional tearing taking place, her daughter’s eyes bubbling with a heartache that Nina needs to reach. She puts her hands on either side of Annie’s face and leans in close.

  “You can do this,” she says. “You can do this because you are brave. You’re braver than I ever was at your age. I ran away from my problems, but you are facing them. You’re strong, and good, and brave, and I am here with you. We’ll do it together.”

  Annie searches her mother’s eyes and nods her head. Taking a deep breath, she looks at the doctor.

  “Ready?” he asks. Annie looks at Nina and nods. “Okay, then I need you to push hard, Annie!” he commands.

  Annie squeezes her mom’s hand and with three hard pushes, she feels the release as the baby slips from inside her and into the doctor’s arms. Nina stands up to catch a glimpse of the tiny baby as the nurse whisks it from the doctor and lays it gingerly in a nearby incubator. Annie lays back on the pillow, panting.

  “Is the baby okay?” she asks, her eyes searching the room as nurses bustle in and out. “I don’t hear crying. Why don’t I hear crying?”

  Just then, the smallest cry pierces the room, the sound reverberating off the walls and into Nina’s heart. She takes a step toward the incubator where the nurses are wiping off the baby and wrapping it in a blanket.

  “Is it a girl or a boy?” Nina asks softly.

  “It’s a girl,” the nurse answers. “And she is small. We need to run a few tests.”

  “It’s a girl?” Annie asks from the bed. “Is she okay? Will she be okay?”

  Nina turns back to her daughter with tears in her eyes and nods her head. “Yes, she will be okay. She’s tiny and perfect. Do you want to see her?”

  Annie hesitates. She searches her mom’s face. “Should I see her?” she asks.

  Nina reaches out and runs her hand over Annie’s head. “I can’t answer that for you, my darling,” she says softly. “But if there’s any part of you that wants to see her, then I think you should give yourself that gift. Because she’s beautiful.”

  Annie nods. “I do want to see her,” she whispers.

  Nina turns to the nurse. “My daughter would like to see her baby.”

  The nurse looks from Nina to Annie. She leans down and wraps the tiny baby tightly in a blanket, then walks slowly to Annie’s bed, holding the small bundle close to Annie’s face. The baby is small with a shock of black hair and a tiny mouth. Her eyes are closed tightly, and her cry sounds like a little lamb. Annie reaches up and runs a finger over her soft head.

  “Hello, little one,” she whispers.

  “I need to take the baby for a little while,” the nurse says. “But I can bring her back when we’re finished running the tests.”

  Annie drops her hand to her side and shakes her head. “You don’t need to bring her back,” she murmurs. Nina looks at her daughter, then shifts her eyes to the nurse and gives her a brief nod. The nurse lays the baby back in the incubator and wheels her out of the room.

  Nina sits and holds Annie’s hand in silence as the doctors and nurses finish cleaning her up and making her comfortable. Before long, the room clears out and the two sit alone, engulfed by the silence.

  “Did you call Molly?” Annie asks.

  “I did,” Nina replies. “I told her that the baby was coming quickly, and she said she would call the adoptive family right away. They should be here by this evening.”

  Annie nods.

  “Molly said that you could meet them if you’d like. And you can have as much time with the baby today and tomorrow as you need.”

  “I don’t need any time,” Annie interjects. “And I don’t want to meet them.”

  Nina nods. “I understand, darling, but...”

  “Mom, please. I can’t. I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

  “Okay,” Nina responds. She stands up and leans in to kiss her daughter on the cheek. “I am very, very proud of you,” she whispers.

  Annie stares stone-faced at the wall. She doesn’t respond to her mother’s words or touch. Nina takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

  “I’m going to get some tea and let Viktor know the baby arrived safely,” she says. “Would you like anything?”

  Annie shakes her head.

  Nina turns and slowly walks out of the room. Running her hand over her eyes, she heads to the waiting area to talk with Viktor. She doesn’t notice the young man walking nervously past her as she turns the corner and walks down the hallway.

  Toby knocks three times on the door. He’s just about to turn away when he hears a soft “Come in” from the other side. With a deep breath, he pushes open the doorway and takes in the sight of Annie lying under a thick blanket in a bed by the window. She looks small and lost.

  “Hey,” Toby says quietly. Annie shifts her gaze to his face and takes a minute to register his presence.

  “Hi,” she says. “How did you know I was here?”

  “The social worker, uh, Molly, called me,” Toby responds.

  “Oh,” Annie replies.

  “Yeah,” Toby responds. He stands awkwardly by the door as if contemplating an escape.

  “It’s a girl,” she says softly.

  “Okay,” Toby replies.

  “The adoptive parents are on their way to meet her now,” Annie continues. Toby nods.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I signed all the paperwork.”

  Annie looks up at him in surprise. “You did?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Molly met me in the lobby, and I got it done.”

  Annie leans back on the pillow. “It’s happening so quick,” she says. “It’s weird.”

  Toby nods. “Did you see her? The, um...baby?”

  Annie nods. “Yeah, just for a minute. Since she was early and small they needed to take her to run tests, but I got to look at her. She was cute. She has black hair.”

  The two sit silently for a long minute before Toby reaches for the doorknob. “Annie,” he says. “I’m sorry it happened this way.”

  Annie leans her head to the side and looks at him, her eyes full of heartache. “I’m sorry, too,” she whisper
s.

  “So I guess I’ll see you around?” he asks. Annie nods, blinking back tears, knowing that they will never see one another again.

  “Bye, Toby,” she whispers.

  He nods and pulls open the door, backing out quickly. Annie closes her eyes and tries to will herself to sleep in the hopes of pushing past this day and into the next. Immediately, the lump in her throat starts fighting against her skin, her eyes burning. She squeezes them tighter shut, trying to push out the image of the little girl she just birthed, but she can’t escape it. Somehow, in the brief moment that she had to look at the baby, the tiny girl was seared into her for good.

  Hot tears roll down her cheeks, and she claps her hands over her face. Something inside breaks, and she can’t stop the overwhelming emotion roaring over her like a surprise summer storm.

  “Mama,” Annie whispers. She presses her hands into her eyes. “Mama.” She says it over and over like a lifeline tethering her to the side of a precipice. She’s begging her mother to hear her and respond.

  “Annie?”

  Annie looks up to find Nina standing in the doorway with two hot cups of coffee in her hand.

  “Mama,” she whispers. Nina rushes to her side, setting the coffee cups down on the bedside table and climbing into the bed next to her, pulling Annie into her arms.

  “Sshhh, my darling,” she whispers. “Sshh...”

  Gasping for air, Annie clings at her mother’s shirt, burying her face in her chest like she did as a child when the lightning flashed and she needed an escape from the terror of the storm. Nina rocks her gently, back and forth.

  “Did...” Annie gasps, her words swallowed in grief. “Did I do the right thing?” She pushes back and searches Nina’s face, begging for confirmation. “Is adoption the right choice, Mama?”

  Nina pushes the hair off of Annie’s face and wipes the tears that have streaked her splotched cheeks.

  “Yes, my dear,” she says. “I believe you are doing the right thing.”

  “But it’s so hard,” Annie sobs.

  Nina nods. She pulls Annie back into the crook of her arm. “Yes, it is hard, dorogaya,” she says. “But hard doesn’t mean wrong. In fact, doing the right thing will rarely be easy. It will always be hard.”

  “Why does it hurt so bad, though?” Annie weeps.

  Nina puts her lips on the top of her daughter’s head and breathes the word out. “Toska,” she whispers. “A mother’s love can hardly be explained or understood. It can only be felt, and sometimes that love is the height of anguish.”

  “I don’t feel like a mother,” Annie says. “I only glanced at her, then I looked away. But I can’t forget her face. I can’t stop seeing it.”

  Nina blinks. “You don’t need to run from it, Annichka,” she says. “You may not feel like a mother, but you are a mother. That won’t be taken away from you. You chose to give that little girl life, and then you chose to give her a family to provide for her the things you couldn’t. I cannot think of a greater gift a mother could give to her child.”

  Annie nestles into her mother’s chest a little further. Slowly, the tears quit falling from her eyes, and her breathing calms. Nina glances down to see that her daughter is sound asleep. She gently lays her on the pillow and climbs out of the bed. Walking to the door, she turns to glance back at Annie once more. It’s dark outside now, the glow of the lights overhead illuminating Annie’s bed in an amber halo. She remembers another time she looked at her daughter lying in a hospital bed.

  Annie had been ten years old and had complained of a stomachache for days. But she was always complaining of aches and pains back then, and Nina had learned to tune out her whining. It wasn’t until the school called that Nina began to suspect something might really be wrong with her daughter.

  She’d rushed to the school to find Annie doubled over in pain and sobbing hysterically. They drove straight to the Emergency Room where Annie was whisked into surgery to remove her swollen appendix.

  “If you had waited a few more hours, it would have burst,” the doctor told her that evening. “She might not have survived.”

  For hours Nina sat by Annie’s bed, sick with the thought that she almost did nothing—that her daughter could have died because she wasn’t willing to really listen to her.

  With a sigh, Nina pushes the door open and steps into the hallway. She walks numbly to the waiting room where Viktor sits in the corner quietly reading the newspaper. He looks up when she approaches and offers a gentle smile.

  “How is she?” he asks.

  “She’s asleep,” Nina responds. “I think I will stay here tonight just in case she needs me.”

  Viktor nods. “Of course,” he says. “Can I get you anything?”

  Nina shakes her head and runs her hand over her eyes. “I need to see my mother,” she whispers. Viktor stands up and pulls her into his arms.

  “I’ll take you there first thing in the morning, okay?” he responds. Nina breathes in deeply, comforted by the warmth of his arms. He kisses the top of her head. “Get some rest,” he says.

  Leaning down, Viktor grabs his wallet and keys. When he straightens, Nina grabs his arm.

  “When this has all settled down, I want to marry you,” she says.

  Viktor smiles and kisses her forehead. “It’s a plan,” he responds.

  Nina watches him go, the ache in her chest softening as she soaks in his retreating figure. She remembers back to the last argument she had with her mother before she left with Andrew for America.

  “You will regret this!” Elizaveta had barked as Nina packed. She was allowed to leave the country with only twenty kilograms in her bag. Her mother had hovered in the doorway, the ring on Nina’s hand evidence that she’d already dismissed her mother’s warnings and done the unthinkable—she had married an American, and now it was time to leave. Her new husband waited for her in America. He’d flown back to Russia and filled out the needed documents, made the necessary promises, and agreed to be her husband. Now he was back home, waiting for her to come and begin the new life that had been promised. And Elizaveta was making one last ditch effort to talk her out of it.

  “Mama, I’m married,” Nina had sighed, folding and refolding clothes to make them all fit. “I have to go.”

  “You don’t! We can fix this,” her mother barked. “We can tell them that you were wrong, you made a mistake. You don’t really want to do this.”

  “But Mama, I do want to do this!” Nina cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “I married Andrew, and I want to go to America. I want to experience a new corner of the world!”

  “But why that corner?” her mother yelled. “Why would you go to a land where everyone walks the streets with guns in their hands?”

  Nina sighed. “Mama, you can’t believe everything you read in Pravda or see on Posledniye Izvestiya,” she said, gesturing her hand toward the small television currently playing the country’s news channel. Elizaveta slumped against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant child not getting her way.

  “You married a foreigner—an American,” she said, softer now. “You need a strong Russian man to look after you. Russian men are the only real men in the world, you know. All the others are just boys pretending to be men.”

  Nina laughed at her mother, shaking her head. “How would you know, Mama? What man have you ever been with? I’ve never seen you with a Russian man, or heard you speak of a Russian man. If the Russian men are so wonderful, then why have you and I never had one around to look after us?”

  That was their final conversation. After that, they spoke only short sentences as Nina finished up her packing and prepared to leave her country behind. There were more words to say, better words perhaps. But the damage had been done long before, and when she got into the taxi the next morning that would deliver her to the airport, she’d glanced up at the window of their flat and waited to see if her mother would lean out and wave goodbye. She didn’t, and Nina knew she’d severed what
little tie had remained between her and her mother.

  Walking to the large window that overlooks the city, Nina takes in the lights. She focuses in on her reflection in the window. She’s older now than she was then. Her face is more drawn, eyelids a little heavier. Gone is the innocence of that young girl who came to America, certain that she’d prove her mother wrong. In her place is a grown woman who is less sure now than she was twenty years ago—a woman who wants nothing more than to hear her mother say “I love you.”

  Elizaveta

  It is time.

  She bustles through the room, talking as she moves. I don’t understand her words, but I enjoy the soft way she speaks. Her voice is like a melody, gentle and sweet, not as harsh as some of the other nurses who clip through each sentence as though they’ve got a mouth full of metal.

  Every once in a while she looks at me and smiles as though she’s said something that I should find amusing. I try to push my mouth into a returning smile, but I’m not sure I’m successful. When Nina pushes open the door, the nurse turns and welcomes her in. The two speak softly, occasionally glancing my way as they share private information about my wellbeing. I sigh, frustrated at my inability to get up out of this bed and care for myself. I spent my entire life independent, needing no one to take care of me, and now I am confined to a strange bedroom entirely at the mercy of young nurses with names like ‘Carol’ and ‘Jillian.’ American names are so odd. I cross my hands over my stomach and look at Nina with raised eyebrows. She catches my eye and clears her throat.

  “Hi, Mama,” she says. She looks surprised, as though she’s seeing me for the first time, and perhaps she is. Today is the first time I feel like myself since I fell all those months ago. I nod my head at her in return.

  Nina pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed. There’s a wary look in her eyes. She’s waiting for me to get upset, but not today. Something inside feels calm this morning. I look back at her, studying her face. She looks tired.

  Licking my lips, I let the word bubble on the tip of my tongue before forcing it out. “Nastia?” I ask.

  Nina nods. “Yes, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about. She had the baby yesterday. It’s a girl. She was very small. Only 6 pounds, which is almost 3 kilograms. But she will be just fine.”