“You could speak to your aunt, you know,” Gloria fussed quietly as Regina pulled the pictures from her purse.
“She could speak to her daughter, too,” Regina said.
Gloria turned from her pantry to give Regina a nonverbal chastisement but stopped when she noticed her daughter’s pallid complexion. Her skin, usually a lively, earthy brown, was dull and drained. Not to mention how brittle her hair looked, pulled back into a stiff ponytail. Gloria empathized with Regina. No matter how much help a woman got, motherhood could still be overwhelming. “Regina, you’ve got to start taking better care of yourself. I know it’s hard with a baby, but don’t let yourself go. You hear? A pair of earrings and a dash of lipstick go a long way. And it wouldn’t hurt if you did a few sit-ups every now and then to help out with your waistline.”
The things people say. Regina left before Gloria had the chance to take those words back.
Little did Gloria know, Regina was doing everything she could to keep from letting herself go. Water pills were in the routine now. If Regina wasn’t busy peeing, she was busy emptying her bowels several times a day, all in between the never- ending task of caring for the baby and searching the Web to keep abreast of the latest news in her field.
Then there was Orlando, always wanting sex. She wanted to want sex, but the extra pounds had smothered her libido.
Only ice cream could help her out of this mess, give her a quick fix the same way it used to years and years ago. When everything else caved, Regina could always depend on food to be there. It didn’t lecture her, it wasn’t judgmental. It was simply there. If she could just lose herself in the sweetness, the crunchiness, or the saltiness of her favorite snacks, there would be instant of satisfaction.
As much as she didn’t want to go back to the old way, she still found herself scrambling into Bruno’s Ice Cream shop like a thief in the night.
Regina’s heart quickened its pace as she anticipated this moment of gratification. Her fixation was so strong that she breezed past Yolanda at Bruno’s.
“Hey, Regina!” Yolanda called to her sister.
“Oh, hey, Yo-yo.” Regina stopped in her tracks and twitched a bit, eyeing the stranger sitting next to her sister.
“Kelan, this is my sister, Regina. Regina, this is my friend Kelan.” Yolanda introduced them, hoping that Regina wouldn’t say anything embarrassing. It was, after all, the first time in a long time Regina had seen Yolanda with a man.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She shook Kelan’s hand, sat back down.
Yolanda noticed the redness in her sister’s eyes and asked Kelan to excuse them while they stepped down a few booths. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ... it’s really nothing.”
“I lived in the same room with you for thirteen years, Regina. I know when something’s wrong with you. You were acting funny at Aunt Toe’s house a few weeks ago, too. Now, I’m not going to take ‘nothing’ for an answer. What is the problem?” Yolanda insisted by crossing her arms.
“I just... I guess I’m going through postpartum blues. Everything is going wrong. I feel so ugly and fat.” Regina buried her face in her sister’s shoulder, and Yolanda held her while she broke down and cried.
The stern expression on Yolanda’s face melted as she discounted her sister’s condition. “Hey, listen, it’s okay. Lots of women go through this. You’re gonna be okay when it’s all over. I promise.”
Yolanda pulled her sister off her shoulder and faced her head-on. “If it gets too bad, you need to talk to your doctor. Have you prayed about this?”
Regina looked down at the floor.
“Well, there’s no time like the present.” Yolanda grabbed Regina’s hands and led her in a quick word of prayer, thanking God for her sister, her nephew, and the life ahead for their family. She asked God to give her sister strength in the midst of this time of emotional adjustment.
But as for the fat part, Yolanda didn’t know what to pray, so she simply asked for wisdom and guidance. As far as she could tell, Regina’s weight should not have been an issue for her. This fat and ugly thing was simply a figment of Regina’s postpartum imagination. Yolanda didn’t even bring it up to God. “In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Regina dried her face, squared her shoulders, and threw her head back. “Well, I guess I’ll get my ice cream and go on home.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Regina laughed at herself, “I’ll be okay.”
But the headache started just as she pulled out of the parking lot. And the pain in her abdomen was no longer an ice pick but a jackhammer. It battered her with such force that she had no choice but to grab her stomach with one hand, causing her to swerve out of her lane, off the road, and into a light pole.
Chapter 15
It wasn’t like Regina to stay gone so late in the evening. And with only one bottle of formula left in the refrigerator, she couldn’t have planned to be gone this long.
Orlando called her cell phone. Terror shot through him as he listened first to his wife’s moans and then a barrage of male voices. When he couldn’t make out what they were saying, Orlando yelled loud enough for someone to put phone to ear and answer the questions that were half-forming in his head.
“Hello! Hello!”
He heard Regina ask someone to talk on her behalf. “Hello, this is Officer Collins.”
It was worse than he thought. He clutched his crying son closer to his chest. “This is Orlando Hernandez. I’m trying to reach my wife, Regina Hernandez.”
“Mr. Hernandez, there’s been an accident.”
“Is my wife okay?”
“Yes, I believe she’s going to be fine. She’s with paramedics now. I expect they’ll transport her to Central Hospital in a matter of minutes. Can you meet us there?”
“May I speak to her?” Orlando threw his head back and began praying.
“Hello?” Regina’s voice creaked with emotion.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry, Orlando.”
“What are you talking about, Regina? You had an accident. It’s not your fault.” He couldn’t comprehend why his wife would feel guilty about a car wreck.
“I’m sorry...“ Regina’s voice trailed off.
Officer Collins returned. “Mr. Hernandez, the ambulance is leaving now. We’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
Orlando called Yolanda and Gloria and then his sister, Angelica. Angelica agreed to keep the baby through the night so he could meet his wife’s family at the emergency room.
Gloria hopped out of bed and turned on the main light in the bedroom she now shared with Richard.
“Where... What are you doing?” he asked, rubbing his eyes to get them focused.
“Regina’s had an accident. I’m going to the hospital.”
Instantly, Richard threw back the down comforter and slid his feet into his brown leather slippers.
Gloria stopped in the middle of hoisting her jeans up her slender thighs. “Oh, you don’t have to go, honey. Orlando talked to her, so I’m thinking she’s not too bad off.” She resumed, zipping her pants.
“Well, I’d really like to be there. Besides, I don’t want you out driving alone at this time of night.”
“Yo-yo is on her way to pick me up.” Gloria thought she’d adequately addressed his concern.
She didn’t bother to look up, or she would have seen the confusion written on Richard’s face. He’d married into a fully functioning family of women. When they did this thing they did so well—worked everything out without the men—he felt alienated.
“Well, call me when you know something,” he said, reluctantly yielding to his wife’s insistence. This probably wasn’t the time to elbow his way in.
He followed Gloria around the house, helping her make sure she didn’t forget anything.
When she was fully dressed, Gloria grabbed her husband’s face and kissed him square on
the lips and said, “Richard, thanks for being so supportive.”
Is this her idea of support? “I’ll be along in a little while.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Super-Gloria refused help.
“I want to,” Richard insisted. “I’m a part of this family now.”
Gloria paused for just a moment, realizing Richard’s place in all of this. She then called Yolanda on her cell phone, telling her daughter to go on to the hospital. “I’m coming with Richard.” It sounded funny, but it was right.
Officer Collins met them all in the emergency waiting room and explained what he knew already about the accident. “It appears that this was simply a matter of overcorrection, where a driver crosses a line and then tries to compensate by steering in the opposite direction. Since we can’t factor in weather conditions or slick roads, I can only say it was a matter of driver miscalculation. I ... just want you to know that it’s standard procedure to do a blood test and check for alcohol in situations like these. Does anyone know where she was tonight?”
“I just saw her a few hours ago at Bruno’s. She was just fine then,” Yolanda offered.
“My wife doesn’t drink.” Orlando defended his love.
“It’s just standard procedure, sir,” Officer Collins repeated. “She’s a lucky woman—that car took quite a beating.”
“God is good,” Yolanda said.
“Yes, He is,” Officer Collins agreed.
One at a time, doctors allowed them to see Regina. Orlando was the first to see her. He hugged his wife and asked her if she was in any pain.
“Just my head.”
“Baby, I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Regina wanted to melt into his arms and receive his shower of kisses, but he didn’t know everything. She didn’t deserve his kisses just now.
Gloria thought she would faint at the sight of the blood seeping through the bandages around her daughter’s head. “Regina.” She hugged her and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Momma, it’s all my fault.” Regina tried to tell her mother the dreadful truth about the accident.
“Oh, that’s nonsense, honey.” Gloria rubbed Regina’s arm and hushed her delirium. Never mind that she couldn’t imagine how on earth her daughter had managed to skid into a pole on a perfectly clear night. “Accidents happen. I’ll take care of the baby tomorrow. Don’t you worry about anything.”
Yolanda took her turn with Regina, offering a prayer and humor. “Girl, I just saw you a little while ago. Now here you are laid up in a hospital bed.”
Regina’s eyes filled with grief and anguish. Lifting her eyes was like lifting fifty-pound weights; it was too hard. How could I have been so stupid? Her sniffling led to an outpouring of tears that she couldn’t hold back any longer. It was a rare moment for the sisters, Regina opening up like this. But when it happened every once in a blue moon, Yolanda knew that her sister was in dire need of help.
“Regina, what is it?” Yolanda rolled the round stool next to Regina’s bed a faced her head-on. She was not leaving that room without the truth.
“I just don’t want to be fat again,” Regina cried. “I can’t go back to that life.”
“Okay, Regina, start at the beginning,” Yolanda whispered.
“I had to do something to keep the weight from coming back, so I started taking pills—”
“What kinds of pills, Regina?” Yolanda’s mind ran through the number of weight-loss pills on the market and their possible side effects, but incoherence was nowhere on the list.
“I took laxatives and a metabolism pill, and water pills. I kept getting headaches and stomach cramps, so I took ibuprofen to ease the pain. It just got out of control.” Regina took short, quick breaths.
Yolanda sighed and looked up at the ceiling, sending up a silent ‘thank You’ for sparing her sister. The accident had probably saved Regina’s life, because under the veil of “baby blues” this problem might have gone undetected for months.
“But Regina, you’re not fat.”
“Yes, I am, Yo-yo. I wish everybody would stop lying to me—you and Orlando in particular.” She looked away from her sister, angry that Yo-yo would patronize her during one of the worst hours of her life.
Yolanda looked at her sister, and for the first time she realized that Regina was serious. “How... when did you decide that you were fat?”
“I can see it in the mirror.” Regina bit into her sister, wondering if she’d done the right thing by talking about the block of fat she saw in the mirror. It was there. It existed! Why was she the only one who could see it?
“I don’t know what to say about you being fat. I’m just glad you’re okay right now.” Yolanda gave up trying to convince her sister that she appeared normal to the rest of the world. From her updates at conferences and other professional venues, she knew that she was fighting a losing verbal battle.
She’d recommend professional help as soon as Regina got out of the hospital. “Let’s just get you out of home first. We’ll worry about one thing at a time.”
As Yolanda rose to her feet, Regina clamped her hand on her sister’s arm. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“Regina, I can’t promise you that.” Yolanda shook her head, knowing that she couldn’t—wouldn’t trade her sister’s life for her trust. Regina was playing with fire, and Yolanda wasn’t about to hide her matches. “This thing is bigger than you and me put together.”
“Please, Yo-yo. I can get better. I know I can. I just need some time.”
Yolanda kissed her sister on the cheek, and Regina released her grip in the warmth of sisterly love. “You will get better, that’s for sure.”
Regina watched as Yolanda pulled back the wall of white curtains and walked out of the makeshift room. It was only a matter of time before Yo-yo told her mother and Orlando, and everyone found out that she had gone mad. Well, they could think whatever they wanted. They hadn’t lived through the torment of her childhood and would never understand the humiliation of being relegated to the choir in the fifth-grade Christmas play because she couldn’t fit into any of the little costumes.
Every time Regina thought about praying, the consideration was immediately seized by the far-reaching grip of her past. What should have stayed in the recesses of her mind transcended time, extending from the fat years to the thin, and pulled her back under its influence. Submerged, she saw the real Regina: a fat girl who had sucked in her gut only for a little while—just long enough to pull in a man and have a baby.
Baby... baby. She thought of her son and what kind of mother she was to him. When she looked into his bubbling face, she saw a reflection of her husband’s virtues. Love. Patience. Joy. Everything she’d ever wanted in a man. They didn’t deserve this turmoil in their lives. She would not put her son through this.
Divine motherly instinct came to the forefront and guided her thoughts now. Somewhere, deep down inside, Regina knew that she had to grab on to faith and pull herself out of this rut. She had to get a hold of herself, get a hold on this thing—fight it.
But Yo-yo had said that it was bigger than both of them. Again she thought of praying. And before the past could dunk her, she gasped and called for help. God, I know I’ve done wrong. I’m sorry. Please forgive me for the way I’ve abused my body. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what the solution is. I don’t... I don’t even know what to pray right now. I’m just asking you to come in and do...something...
In the waiting room, Dr. Anderson informed the family that Regina’s blood work confirmed she hadn’t been drinking. This came as no surprise to the family, but they felt better now that the cloud of suspicion had been officially removed.
Yolanda fidgeted in her seat, wondering when she should break the news.
Chapter 16
Dr. Tilley had suggested that Dianne give some serious thought to finding her purpose in life. Easier said than done. Of all the great things God called people to do—pa
rt the Red Sea, build an ark, kill giants, and make dry bones live again—what on earth would He want with me?
“There’s something you do that no one on this earth can do quite the way you do, Dianne. It’s a gift—an intrinsic talent He gave you to glorify Him. Maybe it’s something you’ve never tried; maybe it’s something you do in your spare time. Whatever it is, it’s probably bigger than you, and you’ll need Him to make it come to pass,” she explained.
“What is it you do that you’d probably do even if you never got paid a penny for it?”
Dianne closed her eyes and thought. Finally, her mind traveled to a time long ago. Once, in fourth grade, her teacher had praised her for a poem she’d written. “This is beautiful, Dianne,” Mrs. Ripley had said, giving her a great big hug. “I’d like for you to read this at the PTA meeting next week. Do you think you could read it for everyone?”
Dianne had shrugged, proud to be chosen but terrified at the thought of getting up before a roomful of people and reading her poem about how butterflies change with time. Dianne didn’t want to read the poem, but Mrs. Ripley sent that blasted undecipherable cursive note home and Aunt Gloria made such a big deal out of it—how could she not read the poem?
Aunt Gloria had bought Dianne a blue sailor dress, a pair of Buster Brown shoes, and long white socks that came up to her knees for the occasion. She’d even given Dianne that coveted zigzag part between her two pony tails so when she bent her head down to read the poem, the nearly all-white audience would know someone had taken extra special care in preparing this little bussed black girl for the evening.
With her family in the front row, Dianne had taken a deep breath and read “Butterfly Time.”
Gloria had been the first to hop out of her seat, leading the standing ovation. Truthfully, that was the last time Dianne could remember really feeling good about herself. She pulled out her poetry journal every now and then, but it was not for the public’s eye. Besides, her writing was so dreadful she might cause her readers to become depressed. No sense in making everybody miserable.
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