by Zakes Mda
There is light tap at the door and Nana Moira enters.
“Damn, I should have locked,” says Rachel. “I wanna rest, Nana Moira. I had a rough day.”
“Yeah, that’s what Genesis tells me.”
“So, he came to gloat?”
“The visitors wanna talk to you.”
“They’re not my visitors.”
“You can’t be rude to no visitors, Rachel. You ain’t gonna get biggety afore you hear what they wanna say to you.”
Rachel covers her head with a pillow, but Nana Moira snatches it away and throws it on the floor.
“If you don’t come out, I am gonna ask them to come in here,” she says as she walks out of the room.
Rachel is left with no choice but to join the visitors in the living room.
The men greet her in polite hushed tones and ask her to be comfortable because what they want to discuss with her is to her advantage. They have nothing against her, they assure her. She is a child of God like all folks in all of creation and they are interested in her welfare. It’s the duty of every Christian to forgive, so they forgive her for the pain she has caused both Nana Moira and Genesis.
“Christ said we should forgive seventy times seven times,” says one of the elders.
“That’s a lotta times,” says Nana Moira, cackling away. “We got a lotta forgiving to do afore we’re done.”
No one else is laughing.
Rachel stares at the visitors defiantly. She has endured a lot of crap from Kayla Trenta. She is not about to endure more crap in her own house.
“From what we heard today in that man’s court my boy’s gonna walk,” says Genesis.
“So it’s time to think about the future,” says the elder.
“I’ve no future with Jason,” says Rachel.
“Obviously you don’t,” says the other elder. “Not after lying like that about him.”
Genesis and the first elder shush him. They don’t want to create a hostile environment here. This woman should not be alienated at all costs.
“We’re talking about the child,” says Genesis.
“Genesis’ grandchild.”
“I wanna take all responsibility for the child,” says Genesis. “I wanna give it everything it needs. I want that child to take my name, De Klerk. I want to give it learning and all the religious upbringing and the health care it needs. I got awful good insurance, not Medicaid.”
“What Genesis is saying is let’s bury the hatchet and think of the interests of the child,” says the elder.
Rachel waits until they are all done with laying out their plans for the child before throwing out the grenade.
“There’s no child,” she says gleefully.
“There ain’t no child?” screams Nana Moira.
“Nana Moira told me you’re with child,” says Genesis.
“It’s dead. Dead!” says Rachel, and laughs at their despondence. Now she is having a great time.
“What does she mean the child is dead? Did she … did she …?” The elder can’t bring himself to utter the word “abortion”.
He is staring at Rachel’s belly which is protruding a little.
“She must have,” says Nana Moira.
“Is that not what you wanted, Nana Moira? Is that not what you and Schuyler encouraged me to do?”
All eyes turn to Nana Moira.
“In the beginning, yes. But I didn’t know Genesis was gonna want the child for hisself. I didn’t know his boy was gonna walk. And Rachel told me she didn’t go through with it.”
The men say they have no more business here and depart. At the door Genesis gives Nana Moira a look that says “I’m very disappointed in you” before he exits.
Rachel is pleased with herself. It is a small victory, but it is worth savouring after all the defeats, including the biggest one today.
“You shamed us, Rachel,” says Nana Moira. “Why didn’t you tell me you done it?”
Rachel gets Cheetos from the cupboard and starts crunching.
“You lied about the baby, didn’t you? You lied to the visitors?”
“I didn’t lie. The baby is just dead weight in my body. It was just something awful growing in me. I hated it so it died. It’s gonna flush itself out. That’s all I’m waiting for now. It has no name. It is nothing.”
“God is gonna punish you, Rachel.”
“Why? Because I did it my way, not yours? You know nothing about God, Nana Moira.”
“It’s against the Bible what you doing to Genesis and his unborn grandchild. My great-grandchild too.”
Rachel’s guffaws are mirthless and mocking. As far as she can remember Nana Moira has never been to church except for an odd wedding or funeral, yet she is so unscrupulous as to bandy the Bible about whenever she wants to have her way. She never cites any chapter or verse, just the name of the book itself. Some vague notion of biblical injunction.
“Don’t you threaten me with the Bible. Where was the Bible when I was raped?”
She has made up her mind; she will not go to court again. After the humiliation at the hands of Kayla Trenta she would not be able to withstand the gazes and the sniggers – real or imagined. Anyway, it’s not her business. It is the state against Jason de Klerk, and the prosecutor told her that her only role is that of a witness. Like Jason raped the state and she was only a passer-by who witnessed the act. They can keep their trial.
She is not there to hear the evidence of the deputy who arrested Jason. The suspect denied having any sex with the alleged victim. Of his free will he made a statement to that effect. The witness stands his ground when Trenta suggests that her client made the statement under duress. She had tried to persuade the judge in a previous hearing to declare the statement inadmissible, but failed.
For this witness there is a re-direct and a re-cross. Holton wants to impress on the jury that Jason, from the time of arrest, has been insisting that there has been no sex between him and Rachel, that he was the first to leave the Centre after dropping Rachel there, and that he did not know what happened to her afterwards. He brazenly stuck to this story because he knew that Rachel had taken many baths after the rape, washing away any evidence. He only changed his story to consensual sex after his counsel learned via the discovery process of the existence of DNA evidence. In Jason’s first version there was nothing about spending time with Rachel drinking and smoking marijuana. He said he drove in with Rachel, left Rachel in her car, went to his, and drove away.
Rachel is not there to see Schuyler sitting in the gallery or to witness the glimmer of hope on Holton’s face during the evidence of the doctor who examined her a week after “the alleged rape”. Rachel had a tear in the vagina on the mend, and bruises on her face, between her thighs and on the other parts of her body. Trenta makes a show of suggesting through her leading questions that all these do not prove rape. When her client takes the stand he will give evidence that he and Rachel engaged in rough sex, demanded by her.
Consensual aggressive sex comes up again when she cross-examines the expert who testifies to the presence of Jason’s DNA in the traces of semen on the floor, some of which was mixed with blood proved to be Rachel’s after tests. This is crucial evidence for the prosecution; it was after its discovery that Jason changed his story from no sex to consensual sex.
Rachel is pub-crawling on Court Street when the prosecution rests its case and the lawyers argue in front of Judge Stonebrook, but in the absence of the jury, over the evidence. Trenta is asking for a motion to demurrer, an immediate plea for dismissal due to lack of evidence, and Holton is vigorously opposing it. The judge rejects the motion.
Rachel is being refused service at Tommy’s and passes out in a chair when the jury is called in and the defence begins its case. Jason de Klerk takes the stand and insists the sex was consensual. “We was just sitting there conversating and drinking and smoking,” he says. Then they fell into each other’s arms and kissed and made love. Rachel demanded that he be faster and rougher.
The prosecutor’s cross-examination harps on his previous statement that there was no sex. He says he lied because he was scared. The deputy threatened him, he adds.
“Why do you imagine Rachel accuses you of rape after having a good time with you?” asks Holton.
“I don’t wanna imaginate nothing like that.”
Obviously he has forgotten the story his attorney already advanced to Judge Stonebrook in chambers that after intense lovemaking there was a quarrel about Rachel’s relationship with Skye Riley. But Trenta forces him to recollect and recount the story in her re-direct.
There are no other witnesses. Trenta very much wanted to call Moira Boucher as Jason’s character witness. She refused. Much as she liked the boy and felt sorry for Genesis she would not stand in a witness box against her own granddaughter, and she told Genesis and said the same later to an investigator sent by Trenta. Trenta could easily have subpoenaed her, but she didn’t want a hostile witness on her hands.
The defence rests and the prosecution says it will not call any rebuttal witnesses. Both counsel are ready with their closing statements.
Trenta dwells at length on Jason’s hard work and dedication to the Centre, his love for music and for Rachel, his being cuckolded by Skye Riley, his being led on by Rachel on Christmas morning until they had sex, his fear when the deputy arrested him while working at the Centre, and his unfortunate statement, a result of that fear, that there was no sexual intercourse between him and Rachel.
Holton’s remarks are brief and focus on the reliability or lack thereof of the witnesses. The accused made a false statement under oath to the sheriff, of his own free will and after being warned of the consequences.
“In rape cases usually it is the word of the alleged victim against that of the alleged perpetrator. None of us were there. We can only depend on whose story has credibility … who is a more reliable witness. Rachel Boucher has been consistent in her story. It is supported by DNA evidence on the floor, which Ms Trenta rightly points out only establishes there was sexual intercourse, and does not prove there was rape. But we remember that the accused denied in his sworn statement that there was any sexual intercourse at all. It was only after he discovered the presence of this DNA evidence that he changed his story to consensual sex. He has lied before, how can we be sure he is not lying now? He has no credibility at all. Ms Boucher on the other hand has been credible and reliable in her evidence. The bruises she suffered all over her face and other parts of the body can only be the result of savage violence rather than so-called rough sex. Think about this, members of the jury, if sex between the two was consensual, why would Ms Boucher all of a sudden accuse the man of rape? Just because they quarrelled about her boyfriend? It does not hold water, ladies and gentlemen.”
Judge Stonebrook gives his instructions to the jury and the court is adjourned.
Schuyler finds Rachel at Tommy’s and tells her the trial is over. They are waiting for the jury’s verdict.
“I don’t give a fuck about any fucking trial,” says Rachel. “I just wanna go home and sleep.”
But they can’t find her car. It’s been towed away because it was illegally parked for the whole day. Schuyler drives her friend home in her pick-up.
It takes all of three days for the jury to come out. This is a sign to Genesis that his son will not be convicted. The worst that can happen is a mistrial. He is indeed vindicated when the jury announces that it is deadlocked on the rape charge, but finds him guilty of a lesser crime of assault, a first degree misdemeanour.
All members of the jury believe that Rachel and Jason were in a relationship, as he claims, and were on a date that night. But where they are deadlocked is whether the sex was consensual or not. Some members argued that from the evidence it was obvious to them that this was a case of date rape. Others swallowed Jason’s story that it was consensual rough sex. They all agreed that Jason acted recklessly and hurt the woman, hence the assault verdict.
Judge Stonebrook has no choice but to sentence Jason to six months’ imprisonment, which would amount to time served, and a fine of one thousand dollars.
As Kayla Trenta walks out of the courtroom with Genesis and his entourage of Michigan church elders he moans about the lack of justice in this whole matter. Trenta turns to him and says sternly, “Stop whining. I worked my butt off to save your son; you should be grateful he only got six months. For rape people get life with no possibility of parole.”
Rachel is languishing at home when Schuyler comes with the report of the sentence. She doesn’t care, she says. She is however really annoyed when she hears that they concluded she was on a date with Jason.
“I wasn’t on a date with him,” she yells.
She could do with a beer right now. But since her car was towed away and is impounded she has been confined to home. And there are no buses between Jensen Township and the city. Schuyler is always busy with her “own things”, whatever that means, and Rachel doesn’t see her as much as she used to. Rachel is like a prisoner, with only Nana Moira for company in the evenings.
7
Rachel’s Blue. He is radiant like a lilac despite the fact that his mother did not have any prenatal care during her pregnancy. He lies in a cot next to his mother’s bed. She spends hours just staring at the sleeping miracle. The gaze continues when the miracle is awake, holding a rattle tightly in his little hand and singing dah, dah, dah to the percussive rhythm.
Against all predictions there are no signs of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome. He was full term and weighed all of eight pounds at birth. His eyes don’t have the narrowness of FAS babies. They are wide and bright, gleaming with warmth. No thin or flat upper lip. No tremors, shaking, irritability or diarrhoea. Perhaps the final weeks that the mother spent in a state of sobriety helped. The baby went cold-turkey while still in the womb and completed the withdrawal cycle. Perhaps the fact that she only started her heavy drinking after the first trimester also contributed to the miracle. Rachel is not going to waste her time exploring reasons. She is only happy that all the township gossip, fuelled by Nana Moira, was off the mark. Her Baby Boy Blue is normal and lovable.
“Your baby’s gonna be the village idiot ’cause you drink like a fish,” Nana Moira used to tell her when she came home drunk. When she stayed home because she was broke Nana Moira said it was good for the child. In both instances Rachel told her, with much sadistic pleasure, that the child lived only in her grandma’s imagination. In her womb there was nothing but dead weight.
It was an arduous road that took Rachel from “the enemy within” to “dead weight” to a baby girl and finally to a bouncy baby boy. It started with a kick. She had been sober for weeks when it happened. Her sobriety was not by choice. For a while she didn’t have a car to drive to the bars of Athens. Even after she had pawned some of her stuff, including her guitar, and released her car from the pound she still was unable to feed her habit. Nana Moira had wised up and was not giving her any of her money to mess up her life with, not even for gas. It was summer and the city was devoid of horny students who’d buy her beer for a roll on the back seat of a car at some parking lot. She was on her uppers, so she stayed home and discovered that she actually loved waking up without a hangover. And without the guilt, followed by long showers during which she exfoliated the skin that rubbed against the bodies of strange men.
Schuyler didn’t visit often because she now had a job as a receptionist for Mr Troy, the lawyer who defended her when she had stolen her boyfriend’s ashes. Perhaps she also was beginning to despair about her friend and the way she was bent on destroying her life. She tried to talk her into getting a job at one of the fast-food outlets in town instead of spending the whole day sleeping and watching daytime television and then sleeping again.
None of them mentioned the dead weight in her belly. Until all three women conveniently forgot its existence.
The kick happened on a day like any other. She was in bed with Blue, after a breakfast of grits and milk. She had covered her
head in her comforter and was listening to Power 105 on her cellphone radio. She felt a mild kick.
“Hey, Blue kicked me,” she said. She had taken to talking aloud to herself since she was the only company she had. She also talked to Blue.
There was another kick after a minute or two. This one more forceful. She jumped up and held her belly. She could feel more movement. The dead weight had arisen from the dead. It was moving inside her. Not in a manner she imagined an “enemy within” would move – crudely and roughly and excruciatingly. But in motions that were smooth and flowing like water in a creek. They made her want to laugh. A violent kick sent her into giggles as she caressed her belly. Titillating violence.
“Baby Blue is kicking me!” she said.
When Nana Moira arrived in the evening Rachel announced: “Blue is restless tonight.”
Nana Moira did not pay any attention to her. She was packing the canned food she brought from the Centre.
“I wanna keep Blue, Nana Moira,” said Rachel.
“Of course I ain’t gonna hide Blue no more,” said Nana Moira absent-mindedly. “Nobody’s gonna do nothing to your Blue.”
Rachel is bubbly beyond words and Nana Moira stops to look at her.
“I’m talking about the baby I’m carrying. I wanna keep it.”
Nana Moira breaks out cackling.
“The one you called dead weight? And before that you called it an enemy.”
“It’s not dead any more. It’s kicking like crazy in me.”
“So you call it Blue?”
“I call her Blue. She’s a beautiful baby girl.”
Perhaps it was the only way Rachel could accept the baby, thought Nana Moira. She would therefore play along and call the baby Blue. Only until the baby was born. After that it will have a real name like all Bouchers.
