Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon (19 page)

I tasted good. Mosquitoes came with the night. Geckos came for the mosquitoes. They crawled on the roof. They crawled on me. I could feel each twenty toes, soft nail dents in my cheeks and up my throat. The mosquitoes left me alone when the geckos were standing guard. I was part of a new world order inside a car. I’d thought that thought recently. When? I was a giant in their world. Attack of the fifty-foot woman. I wasn’t angry now.

Rain sluiced down my neck and back, down my legs. I peed warm into the stream. It was embarrassing. I was peeing in the fountain. I didn’t have a choice. It pooled under my feet. Would the car fill with water? Drop? My hair washed forward and stuck to my cheeks. I turned my head and water from the strands ran into my mouth. My head ached.

Troughs filled with moonlight covered the water with a white scarf of sequins that undulated on the sea, then broke into fireworks of silver when it hit the land, leaving sequins strewn over the rocks. Pockets of moon. Jon. Moon. I’d found him fair and square. Celeste left him behind.

The rising sun flared brilliant green fire in Pele’s tear. Pele strength. The chain was buried in my ankle. Would my mother start drinking again when her second daughter died out of turn? It wouldn’t bring me back. I hoped she knew that. I wanted my children to know her. Sometimes I sounded like her.

A tourist helicopter flew by, beating shock waves. They continued on to fly over hikers on the Na Pali Coast trails. I’d hiked there first with Mike. We’d skinny-dipped. Mike was nice. Handsome. Dark. He didn’t have Jon’s water-on-gravel voice. It didn’t wash into my belly. It stayed on the surface.

Jon was starting to worry. CJ would be hungry. I had nothing to offer him. He will never call me Mama now. I’ll be an abstraction. He’ll say, “My mother was…” and fill in the blanks with the stories he’s told. I’ll be better than I am in his wishes and dreams.

Meggie and I didn’t have initial names. Jon used to call me, H. I wonder if he had called Celeste, C. Chana was CC, for Chana Celeste. She didn’t like it. She wanted her name to herself, to be free of Celeste. Like Celeste and her mother. She can never be free, none of us can. I should have told her it was beautiful instead of being so stingy about Celeste.

The minister will say, “Do you, Chana Celeste Moon, take Adam Chance Spring.” Meggie will be a flower girl who hops down the aisle watching her feet, flowers scattered in her curls. Chance will be walking, still too young to carry their wedding bands. Who will hold him while the rest of the family walks down the aisle? A new wife? Jon won’t be alone long. That was good. She’ll be the newest stranger, except to Jon. There won’t be more babies from Jon. She won’t worry about Celeste. She’ll look at my babies and sense my shadow. I needed to be careful to let sun shine on them so they can grow straight and tall. I smiled. Well, they won’t be tall.

Someone else will French braid Meggie’s hair. Penny will be there. Excuse-Me-Penny will remember walking in on the bride and groom as they walk down the aisle. She’ll be relieved at their marriage. She likes things tidy. Like Celeste.

I would see my father again. I wasn’t twelve anymore. It always felt like he was keeping an eye on me. I wasn’t even embarrassed about that during sex. He was smiling. Except those times with Steve, but that was about hurting me.

Don’t let people hurt you, Meggie. Not like me. Too young. She’ll wonder. What iffs. Chance too, maybe not. I could watch over them. They’ll feel me smile. Tell them nice things, Jon. Please. I loved them. I thought about them. I was watching over them. I could brush against them. Be a breeze in their hair. A swell rolling under their backs while the sun warms their hearts. Slide between their lovers’ hands, gentle the touch. The hands of their children. My grandchildren. It expands. Transforms. Margaret burned through the veil. It was all right there. It’s hard to hold on to the glimpses.

I love Margaret. My grandmother. Thank you forgiveness in the timer. Bettina and Amber happy. I was hoping. I thought. I realized. I wondered. “Canon in D” slack key? Would be sweet. Eyes closed into darkness. Waiting. Not afraid.

Night rain. Stiff neck, work through pain, water dribbles in mouth. Gecko in my eye sitting on a whale. Nails dent plastic. Hello. He licks his eyes. I tilt my head, water on mine. Gummy lashes. He licks my lashes. Tongue across feather. Jon. Look down. Time passes, tide clock hand.

Eyes close pink gold water. Empty breasts. Skin stuck dry bones. No headache. No pain. Quiet mind. Dawn. He smiles and whispers in my ear, “It doesn’t hurt, Hannie.”

Dog barks.

Barking. Barking. Barking.

Pebbles on my head.

Crackling.

Dog bark pelting my head.

Strange sounds.

“We have your girl,” said the gecko. “She’s alive.”

They can talk? I thought they’d call my name. It’s not white light. Did car hit water? Planes break apart.

“You’re safe, Hannah.”

“Okay.” Lips tear. No sound.

Jon’s voice.

Crack.

“Not talking. I can’t touch her. We’re a twig away from a drop down here.”

Distant voice.

“Rough. Broken nose. Shoulder bad angle. Still strapped in. We need hooks.”

Geckos talking. Bumps. Now.

Soap, sweat, tension. Up my nose. Licking my lids, pulled apart.

“Almost there, Hannah. I’m going to swab your mouth. See if we can get it open. Make it easier to breathe.”

Swabbed lips, teeth, circles inside my lips. Jon’s tongue. I open when I’m hurt. Moist air. Water dribbles. Cracked eyelids. A web of pink water.

Ripstop rustle. Gentle. Hurt. Moist air gone.

“55, racing faint. 80/40.”

Pause. Clicks.

“I can’t see them, they’re behind the steering wheel and a bunch of junk. You see her hand?”

Distant voices.

“Got it doc.”

Rustling.

“Hannah, I’m going to give you something for the pain. Then we’re going for a ride.”

Fingers on neck. Not my gecko. Moist air.

“Stay with me, Hannah.”

“Pregnant.”

“Hang in there. Don’t try to talk. Jon’s up top.”

Jon. Cold going away.

“Okay! Let’s go. Let’s go!”

Dog barking. Barking. Helicopter. Swaying. Stay still. Stay still.

I was in and out. Coming and going. Jon. Words I didn’t know. Worry.

I woke up to him asleep, his head next to my hip.

I woke up looking at the curtain around my bed. It was missing a hook. A whiteboard said my nurse was Robert. A calendar said Monday. The clock said 12:00. There was a sliver of window. It was dark, nighttime. A whole day had gone by.

My legs were elevated in slings; my feet were in tie-dyed socks I thought were mine. A thin line of blood seeped through a bandage around one ankle. My right hand was almost black; my left hand was bandaged. I could wiggle my toes and flex my fingers. I couldn’t flex my left hand in the tight wrapping but my other hand and feet felt like part of the continuum of my body again, not the focus of pain. All I could feel were my limbs in the car. Then my brain had made me a field of pain.

Jon was asleep, slumped in a chair pulled close. He hadn’t shaved. His reading glasses, covered with fingerprints, hung around his neck. His hands rested on an open book in his lap. His hands, so capable, brought nothing but tenderness and joy to me, even over the kitchen table. His feet were on the bed by my hip in blue hospital socks with rubber dots on the bottom. I wanted to massage his feet and clean his glasses and send him home to sleep where his neck wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t touch him. I didn’t want him to leave. I went back to sleep.

A nurse erased Robert and wrote Malina. It was dark out. The clock said 3:00. She ran a thermometer across my forehead, checked monitors and tapped notes into a computer by the bed. She glanced at Jon asleep, then wrote a note: You need anything?

I shook my head.

She wrote: Pain? 1 to 10

I held up two fingers. Then changed it to five after lifting my arm. She pulled a syringe out of her pocket, compared the label to my I.D. bracelet, and shot it into my IV line. Tap tap tap on the computer. She held a straw to my lips, put my hand over the call button, and reset the monitor. I watched her leave. Jon was watching me.

“I’m sorry we woke you up,” I said.

My voice was raspy. I squeezed his toes.

“You should be home,” I said. “You don’t get enough rest.”

He took his feet off the bed, pulled his chair closer, and held my bandaged hand.

“Are the babies okay?” I asked.

“They’re being cared for,” he said. “They need their mother.”

“Did you find someone good on such short notice?”

“Hannah, you were missing for four nights. The whole family was here. Karin was here until we knew you were stable.”

“How are you?” I asked.

“I thought you were gone from us,” he said. “Over a trip to Walmart.”

“I was stupid.”

“I didn’t mean that you were stupid. I don’t mean that at all.”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“Yes. It’s going to take time. You were lucky. A tree stopped you.”

“What kind of tree?”

“I don’t know.”

He told me how they found me. They spent the first two days tracking down the guys with my phone. They answered when Jon called my phone. They said I was partying with them. They said I was doing all kinds of things with them. The police asked why I’d run away.

Eric and Anna arrived and Eric got into my computer, found my phone-tracking app, and pinpointed the phone at one of the low life locals favorite drinking and shoot the shit beaches. Victor took a posse of relatives and made their presence felt in the crowd down there. Everyone played them until Victor called my phone. It rang in the pocket of the guy with the scarred face. Everyone scattered, but Victor is fast on his feet for a man his size. After that, it took very little encouragement for the guys to tell the story of chasing me down the road. At first they said they were just trying to get me to stop so they could return my phone.

“Maybe they were,” I said. “They didn’t steal it. I got scared when they started cruising me and forgot it on top of the car.”

“They weren’t. They had other plans for you. Victor left it to his cousins to get the story.”

“That’s terrible, Jon.”

“What’s terrible? Their plan to drug you and pass you around for a few days? Or that they’re still alive?”

“Pass me around?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that,” he said. “God. I’m so sorry.”

He tried to hug me but I was rigged up and my nose was splinted.

“I afraid I’ll hurt you more,” he said.

He held my bandaged left hand.

“I need to get you a new ring,” he said. “They trashed yours cutting it off.”

“I’m sorry I put you through that. I would go crazy if it was you. How did you find me?”

“The guys took a guess at how long they followed you. The Search and Rescue teams were out at dawn the next day. They found the skid marks. Where they stopped. They called in divers.”

“I heard a helicopter.”

“A canine team found you. A vet and his German shepherd. That dog climbed halfway down the cliff on your scent. No one could see your car from the road. The dog wouldn’t leave you down there. His handler said trust the dog, so the helicopter did a fly by and saw you. The rappellers went slow, they didn’t want to knock you loose.”

I was lost in my head. I understood what he was telling me, but I had no memory of it. I only remembered thinking about Meggie and Chance.

“Can I see the babies?” I asked.

“Not in here. They hope to move you in a day or two, then maybe Meggie. Chance is too young to bring in.”

“What’s he eating?”

“Formula. He really fought it. He hated the bottles. I had to force water into him with a turkey baster. The moms tried everything, kitchen looked like a chemistry lab. He wouldn’t sleep, he just cried. He got dark circles under his eyes, the doctor wanted to put an IV in him for hydration. Tutu came over with evaporated milk and Karo syrup. They cooked it up and he went for it. They started out with the baster, but finally got him to take a bottle.”

“Meggie?”

“Dad and Arthur keep her busy during the day. Chop’s always there. She’s living on ice shave and French fries. She cries at night. I haven’t been there much. She slept with Adam and Chana, now she’s sleeping with your mom and Arthur. They look tired. Your mom’s so upset, she’s wrapping her head in toilet paper at night.”

“She always does that, keeps her hair smooth.”

“Not anymore. You should get some rest.”

“Will you go home? I want you to sleep in our bed tonight. I want the babies to wake up with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He kissed the top of my bruised hand. Then took off his hospital socks and fished his flip-flops out from under my bed. He was using an old diaper bag as a satchel for his things.

I watched through the glass wall of my cubicle as he stopped at the nurses’ station, then waved good-bye to someone out of sight. I closed my eyes to shut out the fluorescent light. The pneumatic door swished and he was standing by my bed again. He sat down and took my hand again. We looked at each other.

“Am I pregnant?”

“I had to make a decision, H. You’d been dehydrated and in the same position for four days. The ultrasound didn’t look good. You had gangrene starting in your ring finger where the band got tight.”

“Did you tell them to do an abortion?”

“You have fractures in your pelvis. A dislocated shoulder. A broken nose. I thought about you going through another pregnancy with all those injuries.”

“So you had them do an abortion? Can they even do that without my permission?”

“I knew you didn’t want another baby. You were bleeding; they were pumping blood into you just to stay even. There were so many things wrong all at once. Patricia didn’t think you’d go full term and if you did, there was a good chance of birth defects. I had to make a decision. I approved a D&C.”