by Han Nolan
I ask when I can get the catheter out of me because they forgot to take it out, and she says no, they didn't.
"We'll take it out tomorrow," she says on her way out the door. Then she pauses and adds, "If you're good." She winks and leaves, and I wonder if she's been talking to my mother.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I THOUGHT if I dreamed, I would dream about Emma Rose, my beautiful baby, but instead I dream about Banner. She's whispering something to me, only I can't hear her. I keep asking her to speak louder so I can hear, but she just whispers again. She puts the necklace she made around my neck and whispers something else, and still I can't hear her. I want to hear her. Why can't I hear her? "Speak up! Speak up, Banner. Tell me what you're trying to say."
I wake up all in a tangle in my bed, and my belly hurts where they cut me open. I'm crying again and I can't stop, but I try to be quiet about it so I don't wake the mother asleep on the other side of the curtain.
I get breakfast and painkillers, and the nurse tells me to get up and walk as much as I can today. She says after the doctor has seen me, they'll take the catheter out. I can't wait.
I ask to see Emma Rose. "Let's just let the doctor visit you first," she says.
"But the lady next door got to see her baby."
"That's different. She and her baby will be going home today. You've got two more days. Don't worry. Everything's fine."
The nurse pushes me back against my pillows so that I'll lie down and relax, but I don't feel relaxed. Shouldn't I be trying to feed Emma Rose again? I'm anxious to see the doctor. It seems nothing happens until I see him, so let's get the show on the road. Let's see him already. Where is he? It's six in the morning. The hospital is bustling with activity, so the doctor must be here somewhere. Let's see him. The nurse hands me the breast pump to use again so they can feed my baby with a bottle of my breast milk. I want to feed her. Why can't I at least feed her the bottle?
***
It's nine in the morning, and still no doctor and no Emma Rose—and I still have my damn catheter in. A new nurse is on duty now, a male nurse. I ask him when the doctor will be in to see me, and he says soon. "Well, what the hell does 'soon' mean?" I shout at him. "I've been waiting all morning."
The nurse whispers, and it reminds me of my dream. "Shhh," he says. "You're not his only patient, little one."
While he's saying this, a man, an old geezer with a little bit of white hair on a mostly bald head, comes in and looks around. He's short and wearing a pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and one of those beanie caps on his head—a Jewish hat thing.
He comes over to my bed and clasps his hands together and kind of bows a little bit. "Eleanor Crowe?"
"Yeah?" I pull my sheet and blanket up to my neck and slide down in my bed a little. He reminds me of an undertaker. I wonder if he's about to tell me Emma Rose died in her sleep. Please don't tell me that. Please!
"I'm Rabbi Yosef."
Rabbi? Oh, no! A rabbi. Oh, yeah, now I get it. When I filled out my admission forms, the nurse asked me what religion I was, and I thought it was none of her business, so I said Jewish just for the hell of it. Now I'm probably going to get arrested for impersonating a Jewish person. The rabbi's probably going to quiz me to see if I'm Jewish, then have the police haul me away as soon as he realizes I don't know beans about being Jewish. Well, these police can just stand in line with the rest of the force, because I'm about to get hauled away for pushing Banner Sorensen into suicide and probably as soon as I step foot out of the hospital the officer from Bethel who picked me up yesterday will be waiting to haul me off, too.
"I'm not Jewish," I say. "I lied."
The rabbi sits down. "You did, did you?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't know what I was doing."
"Well, now that I'm here, maybe I can help you?"
"Help me? Help me how? I don't need a rabbi. I need a grief counselor. That's what I need."
The rabbi nods. He nods really slowly. Then he smiles. "I am trained in grief counseling, Eleanor Crowe. Is there sorrow around the birth of your baby?"
"Okay, look, no offense. There was a little girl at the camp where I work, and she just died. She killed herself, and I need to sort out some thoughts, but if I talk to you, I don't want all this God stuff brought in, okay?"
"But God is already in it. I don't bring Him in. He is already here."
"See? Like that. Go easy on that kind of talk."
The rabbi raises his brows. "What happened, Eleanor? Tell me about the little girl who killed herself."
And so I do. I tell this geezer everything, including how I sometimes just wanted to kick Banner in the butt for being such a wimpy crybaby. I tell him about my talk with Banner in the break hut. I tell how she must have thought I meant show 'em by killing herself. By the time I'm through telling him everything, I'm in a pool of tears.
Rabbi Yosef hasn't said anything the whole time, but now he takes my hand and just holds it.
I grab a tissue off the little tray table I've got on the side of the bed and with my free hand blow my nose. I grab another and wipe my eyes. "I just never realized how desperate she was. I mean, to want to kill yourself, that's as desperate as it gets."
"You want to feel better about it."
"Yes."
"You want not to hurt so much."
"Yes," I say. "Yes, it hurts so much. It does."
"You want not to feel like it was your fault?"
"Right. Yes. That's right."
"Just let yourself hurt, Eleanor. It is a painful thing that's happened. You're supposed to hurt."
Okay, I didn't expect him to say that. I thought he'd tell me what my parents always tell me; that God will forgive me, no matter what.
Then he asks, "What does the pain feel like?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"Feel it. Feel the sadness. Feel the loss of this young girl. Feel the guilt."
"I do. I do feel all of that."
"Really feel it, Eleanor."
"Yeah, I do." I close my eyes and I tell myself to really feel it, as if I haven't been really feeling it already. This guy's a nut case.
Feel it. Feel it. I feel this spot in the middle of my chest, that's where it hurts the most. I feel all caved in there. I tell the rabbi this.
"Yes. Yes," he says. "Keep feeling it."
I try to keep feeling it, but it's weird about trying. The more I try, the more the feeling seems to just kind of dissolve away. I think about how guilty I feel.
I open my eyes. "I shouldn't try to get rid of my guilt," I say. "I am guilty. I should feel that. I don't want to not feel guilty, otherwise..."
I can't finish what I was about to say, because I don't know how to, but something is dawning on me.
"Yes, Eleanor. What would happen if you didn't feel guilty?"
"It would be like I didn't care, and I do care. I care a lot."
"And feeling guilty lets you know how much you care?"
"Yeah. That's right. I can't just go around feeling guilt-free. What if I did that? My mother would kill me. Everybody would kill me."
"So you feel guilty to keep people from being angry with you." He says these things like a statement, not a question, but I answer him like he's asking me.
"I feel guilty because it's the right way to feel." I put my hand over my mouth. I can't believe I just said that. "I mean, I feel guilty because I am guilty, because I do feel guilty, because it's the right..." I said it again. I look at the rabbi. "Shouldn't I feel guilty?"
"It's natural, sure," he says, nodding. "Go ahead, feel guilty. Feel as guilty as you can."
He's got some kind of game here, but I can't quite guess what it is. Somehow I figure I'm not going to feel guilty by the end of it, so I'm willing to play along. I close my eyes again and try to feel as guilty as I can. I think of Banner trusting me. I think of the way she leaned on my shoulder and looked up at me. I remember telling her to show 'em. How stupid could I be? I'm so stupid! Here it is. Here is t
he guilt. I feel it in my head and shoulders. My head feels like it's on fire, but the more I'm aware of this feeling, the more the feeling starts to leave, just like the painful feeling I had before. It's crazy. I get scared. I do. I feel really scared. I open my eyes. "But if I don't feel guilty for what happened to Banner, won't I feel guilty for not feeling guilty?"
"What does guilt do for you? What does it do for Banner?"
"Guilt tells you you've done something wrong."
The rabbi nods. "Good. Good. Then what?"
"What do you mean?" I wish this guy would just talk plainly or just give me some advice and leave. My head is starting to hurt.
"Well, why carry the guilt around with you? Once it's served its purpose, what use is it?"
"It's a reminder. It's a reminder of what I did wrong, so I won't do it again," I guess.
"You think you will do it again? Do you think the next time someone asks you for help, you will be able to help that person better because you feel guilty?"
"No. I might be able to help because I had that experience with Banner."
"So it's the learning experience that you need to remember. And I would think you would like to remember Banner, your friend."
"Yeah. I guess I don't need to hold on to the guilt. That's what you're saying."
The rabbi nods.
"That's cool."
"Remember Banner," he says.
"I will, always."
"Good. That's good."
I feel better. I feel lots better. I smile. "I thought you were going to tell me that God will forgive me, no matter what."
"Ah. Do you need me to say that?"
"No. I hear that all the time. It's just—you didn't mention God once. Is that allowed? I mean, aren't you supposed to because you're a rabbi? Won't you get in trouble?"
The rabbi stands and puts his hands on his back and arches it. "I think I'm safe," he says. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now."
"Will you come back to see me? I mean, could you?" I ask. "There's my baby. I have questions about my baby, and I don't know what to do. Maybe you could help me with that, too? I'm here for today and tomorrow and maybe the next day."
"I'll be back." He holds out his hand and I take it, and we shake. "It's been good talking to you, Eleanor Crowe."
"Thank you. You, too."
The rabbi leaves, and I lie in bed just thinking about everything for a while, and it's funny, he never talked about God, but I feel as if God was here, as if maybe I had been talking to God all along.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE POLICE come to see me and question me about Banner. I tell them the truth—the whole truth—because now that I have Emma Rose, I need to stop lying all the time. I'm scared and I'm crying, and I expect them to tell me that they're going to arrest me, but they don't. They just sit there and take notes, and then when I'm through telling them everything, they pat my hand and leave. The end. Then, before I can recover from their visit, the doctor finally shows up. A nurse had removed my bandage earlier, and now he checks my belly where he cut me open and says it looks good. I can leave it uncovered. Then he tells me Emma Rose had some trouble breathing last night but that she's fine now. They ran some tests on her, but everything checked out okay. All I want to know is when can I see her, and all he says is, "Soon." He pats my leg. "Let's get that catheter out first, okay? And I expect to see you up and walking the halls today. Go slowly, and if you're too dizzy, sit down." He pats my leg again, and he's gone. His whole visit lasted all of two minutes.
A nurse comes in to remove the catheter. Ahhh! Then she brings me Emma Rose. My Emma Rose. I'm extra glad because my breasts are so engorged and leaking—again. They want Emma. She puts her warm mouth on my breast and she tries to suckle, but she's not strong enough. I feed Emma Rose with a bottle, and then I burp her and feel her warm head. It feels so alive. She's so alive. I hug her and kiss her and play with her tiny hands and feet.
I'm left alone to play with Emma Rose. Oh, I just love her. I want to show her off. I want to show the world my baby. I can't wait to see Ziggy. We have so much to talk about. We're in love. We're so in love, and now we have Emma Rose. I want him to know this. I'm not sure he knows that we're keeping her. Oh, I can't wait for Ziggy to see her. When he sees her, he's going to sweep both of us into his arms and he's going to say, "Come with me to Boston. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you and Emma Rose."
I'm lying in bed with my baby in my arms, and I'm half awake and half asleep, dreaming of me and Ziggy and Emma Rose in a cute little apartment in Boston. My chest of drawers, the teal one with the painted flower bouquets and red glass knobs, is standing in the corner of our bedroom next to the crib. It's so wonderful and we're so happy.
Ziggy says something, but I don't quite hear him. "What?"
"You're beautiful," he says. I smile and open my eyes, but it's not Ziggy, it's Leo, and he's got his video camera and he's filming me.
I wave him away. "Leo, I look terrible. I just got my catheter out."
He turns the camera off for a second and smiles at me. "I'm not filming that end. Now, smile and show everybody Emma Rose." He lifts the camera again and turns it back on.
I remove the blanket from Emma Rose's head and lift her up. "This is my baby. This is my Emma Rose," I say. "Say hello, Emma Rose. Say hello to all the campers." I put her in my lap so she's sitting up, and I take her hand and wave it at the camera.
"You want to hold her?" I ask Leo.
"Sure."
"Be careful, though. She's brand-new. She's delicate."
"I've held plenty of babies before, Elly. Don't worry." He sets the camera on my bed and takes Emma Rose in his arms. She looks so teeny-tiny next to him.
"How have you held plenty of babies?" I ask. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slowly stand up. I do feel a little dizzy, and my belly, where I was cut open, feels really heavy. I reach down and hold myself there, as if I still had a baby inside.
"I have eleven brothers and sisters. I'm the oldest."
"Eleven! That means your mother had twelve kids. Wow! Twelve kids. Poor lady. But no wonder you're so good with the campers. You're used to it."
"Not all of them were babies. We're all adopted. Some of my brothers and sisters we got when they were older, like three and four. But we've had some babies, too."
"I'd think you'd be so sick of kids by now."
Leo smiles at Emma Rose and puts her against his chest and pats her back. "Ay-uh, you'd think."
His fingers are long and slender, and his hand covers her whole back, practically.
"Isn't she tiny?" I ask, and he nods.
We decide to take a walk, but just as we get to the door, the nurse is back to take Emma Rose away again. I can't wait till it's just me and Emma Rose and Ziggy alone, with no nurses trying to take her away.
Leo and I go for a walk down the hall and out to where the waiting room is. He tells me a bit about his life on the farm with his parents and brothers and sisters. They grow blueberries and make maple syrup. "I love maple sugaring time. We get a lot of kids who come to the farm and want maple-syrup snow."
"Yeah, my parents and sister and I used to go to a farm for that. I loved how they'd pour the maple syrup on the snow and we'd scoop it up, and the syrup would be all thick and sugary."
We get silent after that, and I'm wondering where Ziggy is and where my parents are. Yesterday, before the baby was born, everybody was hovering around all over me, but now it's just Leo.
"So," I say, "do you think Ziggy will be by soon? And have you seen Lam? Have you spoken to him? What's he saying about everything?"
"Lam's gone. He took off."
"Took off where?"
Leo rubs his chin, and I notice he's growing a beard. It's coming in reddish brown. Funny I hadn't noticed earlier. "I don't know," he says about Lam. "Probably a friend's house."
"Why did he leave?"
"I don't know, Elly. I really don't know his business. Lam and I have never been cl
ose." Leo sounds irritated.
"Sorry," I say. I put my hand on his, and he takes my hand and squeezes it.
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night. There's lots going on at the camp. The Lothrops are trying to keep business as usual these last days of camp, but lots of kids have gone home already. The mood is pretty down right now. The Lothrops are asking the parents to bring their kids back for the final night when we'll do the video and talent show and pass out awards and badges to the campers. It will be good to end on a high note. I think I've got some good footage, too." He lifts his camera.
The talent show—I had forgotten all about it. "I was really hoping Banner would be in the talent show. I really only came up with the idea because of her. I wanted everybody to see her dance."
Leo squeezes my hand again. "I know. I remember you telling me that. You did your best, Elly."
Then we're silent again, and again I think of Ziggy.
"So, have you talked to Ziggy?"
Leo studies a really ugly picture on the wall. It's supposed to be an autumn scene, but the colors are so muddy it's just depressing. "Yeah, I talked to him. He says he's got a really busy schedule today. He's got some campers to deal with who are still having trouble with Banner's death. He doesn't feel right leaving them." He looks at me now, and he looks embarrassed, like he's embarrassed for Ziggy not being here.
"Oh, okay. Yeah. I'm being selfish. I know I am. I just don't know what's going on—at the camp, and with Ziggy. I wish I could leave and go back there with you. Of course I have Emma Rose to think of now, too. I can't leave until she's ready."
"So you plan to keep her, then? Your mother was saying something about adoption."
I look down at my hands. My fingernails are dirty, and I wonder how they got that way. I hate that I touched Emma Rose with dirty hands. I need a bath.
"Yeah, Mom says adoption is the right thing to do. 'Cause I can't give the baby everything she's going to need, like doctors and special teachers and money to pay for everything. I'll be a single parent, and that's hard enough with a normal child, but Emma Rose will need special care all her life—blah, blah, blah."
