Saving Cicadas (3 page)

“What's wrong, Mama?” My sister, Rainey, heard the commotion and filled the doorway, her hair still mussed up from sleeping. She had her hands covering her ears for the noise. She was eight years older than me but seemed more like my age, except for her body was a grown-up's. Go figure. I wasn't sure why they called it Down syndrome. They should have called it “Up” or something. Rainey was the most loving, positive, excited person I knew. She was like our Labrador puppy Bitsy was, always wagging her tail, just happy to be alive. Until she got run over, that is.

Anyway, Rainey saw joy in everything . . . unless she was scared or bothered or mad. “What's wrong?” she asked again.

“Oh, nothing, honey—”

“She's pregnant,” said Grandma Mona.

“What's pregnant?” Rainey asked. Strangers had a hard time making out her words sometimes, but I'd been with her for so long, I had no trouble at all. Sounded more like “whad-ped-nat?”

Mama looked shocked at hearing the word. “It means having a baby,” said Mama, holding her middle and looking like somebody kicked her in the stomach.

“A baby?” Rainey's face lit up like sunshine. “Oooh, we get the baby! Goodie!”

“No, Rainey, it's not a good thing,” Mama said, straightening up. “It is not a good thing for an unmarried woman with no money and a crappy job to get pregnant.”

“Oh.” Rainey's eyes flitted from Mama to me. Understanding crossed her flattened face, and she looked at her shoes. “Mama bad. You the bad girl.”

“No, no. I'm not a bad girl, Rainey. I just . . . I don't know how this happened . . .” Tears began streaming down Mama's face, and she excused herself to the kitchen for some water.

“Sit down,” I told Rainey. I was more like the big sister in our relationship, and it was time to do big-sister things. I patted the toilet seat and Rainey sat down. I put my head in my hands and rested my elbows on my knees so my brown hair covered my face. “See, it's like this. Somebody kissed Mama and it might not have been her fault. Just because a lady gets pregnant . . . is going to have a baby . . . it doesn't mean she's a bad girl.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Like Mary!” Rainey squealed. I peeked at her between my fingers. “Mary had the baby,” she said. “From the Bible.”

“Yes! Yes, that's right. Mary had a baby, and that didn't make her a bad girl, did it?”

“Jesus was in her tummy,” said Rainey, looking out the door to her book bin. She got up and hurried to it, lifting the lid and digging until she found the one she wanted. I followed her and plopped down on the couch, feeling like I'd gained five thousand pounds. I curled my feet up under me and Rainey brought me her book, flipping through its pages with thick fingers. “See? Here the baby Jesus. He come again someday. Mama having the baby?”

“Uugh.” I put my head down and closed my eyes. I knew Mama wasn't happy about being pregnant, and I also knew the Jamisons at the Y had adopted a baby from Russia, so I knew Mama could give hers away if she wanted. If I thought on it, I felt sick inside. “I guess Mama's having the baby,” I said. “But we don't really know yet, Rainey. It's up to her.”

She was quiet for a second, so I turned to look at her. Rainey's eager look had turned to frustration. “Why?” she whined. “I thought Jesus coming to our house. I want the baby Jesus.”

“Oh, Rain.” Tears sprang to my eyes. They dripped down slowly, lingering on my cheeks. Rainey moved in and clumsily swiped at my face, trying to dry my tears. She thought of crying along with me, then smiled instead. “Don't be sad. I help. Baby Jesus stay in our room. I feed him and change the diaper.” Then she pounced off the couch and ran away, hunched over with purpose, clutching her book of Bible stories. I could only imagine she'd gone to prepare a place for Jesus. Probably my bunk on the bottom.

And then it occurred to me. Mary was called a
virgin
, and God gave her a baby. If Mama truly didn't know how all this had happened, then it could very well be that she was a virgin, too, and God had given
her
a baby. I imagined Mary was just as upset as Mama was when she found out. Then I got excited and nervous and serious all at the same time. My mother was having a child of God like Mary did, so I hunkered down in the couch cushions, waiting for angels to come tell us the news. I knew it was something that might happen only once in a lifetime. Most folks, I knew, weren't this lucky, and I certainly was nobody special to deserve something as such.

Chapter Three
BIRDS AND BEES

I sat still and felt the lumps of the sofa. I closed my eyes and listened to the grandfather clock ticking.
Tick, tick.
Time was rushing by, Mama more pregnant with every second. I waited and waited, but no angels came.

I touched my own stomach, and my blood swelled. No matter how Mama got pregnant, a baby was coming to our house. Into our lives. And what would it mean for Rainey and me? No more late movies on Fridays nights with popcorn and Co-colas. No more roller-skating at the Y or half-price bowling every other Tuesday. Mama would be too tired for me and Rainey. Life, as we knew it, was completely over.

I could hear Grandma Mona letting Mama have it in the other room. “Why do you always go for men who use you, Priscilla? Who's the Prince Charming this time? I tell you, one of these days . . .” Mama stayed silent, taking all the abuse. Then she came white-faced from the kitchen carrying a glass of water, and she set it down with shaky hands on a coaster and sniffled. Pulling a balled-up tissue out of her pocket, she wiped her nose before sitting next to me. Mama and I didn't look at each other but stared straight ahead at the glass half-empty with a faded print of Donald Duck on it.

“I guess,” she told me, “I really did it this time.”

I kept my mouth shut, but Grandma Mona, of course, could not. “Yes, you did, Priscilla,” she said. She was hovering over Mama's shoulders like a gnat.

“Cain't you just leave her alone?” I said. “I really don't think she needs this right now. It might not even be her fault.”

“But we talked about this years ago. Didn't we?” Grandma Mona ignored me. Her rouged cheeks were getting redder; her skinny hands perched on pointy hips. “I thought I was very open and honest with you, Priscilla Lynn. It made me quite uncomfortable, but I told you all about the birds and the bees. What about contraception? Don't you know about it? My goodness, Priscilla. There are so many kinds these days. There must be a hundred ways
not
to get pregnant!”

“Grandma Mona!”

Mama stayed silent. Beaten down. She swiped at her nose again. Then she said, “What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her. “You're gonna have a baby. It'll be okay, Mama. I know it will. We'll all help.”

“I am single. I live in a tiny, nothing town with a terrible job slopping pancakes and sausages on a buffet for senior citizens. And then there's Rainey . . . she needs so much more than what I can give her. She doesn't get enough from me as it is . . .”

I turned and looked at my mother. Her eyes were closed and she was gnawing on a spot inside her cheek. Slowly, I melted into her side. I lay down on her lap, and her hand rested on the top of my head, unmoving. I wondered if she even knew I was there.

“Well? What are you going to do, Priscilla?”

“Grandma Mona, could you just leave us alone for a while?” I said from the tops of Mama's knees. “Cain't you see this is hard on her?” “Back in my day, having a baby meant
having a baby
. I suppose in today's world it could mean a multitude of things. What in the world is the world coming to anyway?”

“Please, Mona.”

“That's
Grandma
Mona to you, young lady. Don't sass me.” She sped away to the kitchen where she liked to spend most of her time. I imagine the heat of the stove must have made her feel right at home.

Mama stirred, so I sat up. “I have no idea what I'm going to do,” she said. “Or maybe I do. Maybe I know exactly what I have to do. I think I'm going to be sick.” She put her face in her hands and pressed her eyes. “God, how could you let this happen?”

“Oh Mama, I'm sure there's a reason for all this. Right? God has his reasons.”

I was finding it hard to keep my optimism. Apparently, being pregnant was akin to the end of the world for her. Were we really that bad? I tell you what, I knew I was never kissing a boy until I got married. That was the truth. Time seemed to have stopped for my mother. I wished so hard I could rewind it for her and undo all this. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mother did the same. Then we heard Rainey singing “Rock-a-bye Baby” from the bedroom, and that just sent Mama over the edge. Her tears plopped down hard, making wet spots on her blue jean shorts.

Mama had a choice to make. Simple as that. This was America, right? She could just make a list of her options and choose the best one. She could do pros and cons for each option. She liked lists. I did too. I could help her.

Mama's eyes were closed. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. I hated what all this was doing to her. It should have been a happy occasion. It should have been.

“Oh Mama, I'm sorry,” I said. I lifted myself off the couch and went to the bathroom to look at the stick again. Maybe this was all a big mistake and we read it wrong. Now that would be funny. That would be really, really funny.

I leaned facedown into the metal wastebasket. Keeping my eyes closed, I said a little prayer and smiled, imagining Mama's face when she found out how silly we were, reading it wrong. Oh, how silly.

Then I opened my eyes and stared at the stick. A pink plus sign was staring right back at me, like a cross or a bonified sign from above. Or like angels coming and bearing the news.

Chapter Four
THE KEEPER OF SECRETS

{Mona}

I was standing there in the kitchen with my back pressed against the door. I bit my lip and closed my ever-living eyes. I could hear Priscilla sobbing in the next room. I could picture her face, distorted and red, her faint stork's foot now splotchy across her forehead. I had to fight back the tears myself. It's a thing no mother can bear, the sight of her child in pain. And although I fussed at Priscilla as always, I had grown especially hard on her now . . . for her sake and for everyone else's. She had once again put herself and her family in a terrible predicament.

I wanted to throttle her. I wanted to tell her that this was not how she was raised! That she was once a proud young girl who knew how to say no and wouldn't take no for an answer! She worked hard at her studies. She was going to make something of herself. She kept her frilly room clean, took care to wash her hands and face. She brushed her long, beautiful hair a hundred strokes a day, just because I told her it would make it stronger.

That was back when she listened to me.

And then . . . well, sometimes people make choices that change their lives forever. Priscilla gave up everything and everyone to bear her burdens all on her own, thank you very much. In many ways she was still so proud now that she was all grown up. Too proud to ever ask anyone for help. That's why I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands.

When the lights were all out and the world was quiet, I slipped into Priscilla's bedroom while she was sleeping, knelt to the floor, and buried my head in her mattress. Silently I prayed that she'd make the right decisions regarding the child she was carrying—and that I might could help in some fashion. And an amazing thing happened right there in the quiet of her room. Alongside the sound of Priscilla's breathing, I heard something. A word from above? Perhaps. All I know is that I felt it down thick and wide and true in my soul:
She must go home
.

I opened my eyes and watched Priscilla's covers moving slowly up and down. I touched my fingers to her forehead and gently rolled them over her hair like I used to when she was younger. She'd left home so long ago. Seemed like another lifetime. She'd sufficiently cut the thought of home right out of her mind and clean off her family tree. What or who could ever make Priscilla go home now? The one thing I knew about Priscilla was that she was stubborn. Just like her mama. I knew anything I said to her would be the very
opposite
of what she did. It's just how our relationship had become. It didn't please me, no. It's just how it had to be.

And my granddaughters. I had to play it up for them. I needed them, Janie especially, to believe I was the detriment to the family. Why? Well, that would be revealed in due time. Let's just say it was one of the many sacrifices a loving matriarch must make.

She was tossing and turning now, so I straightened her covers. Before I tiptoed out of Priscilla's room and left her to her restless dreaming, I kissed my daughter softly on the cheek and whispered into her ear, “Go home, sweet child. It's time for you to go
home
.”

Chapter Five
GREAT MOTHER OF GOD

{Janie}

The light was coming in through the window, frosting Rainey's wild hair. I was mesmerized by the sound of her
tap, tap, clacking
on the keyboard. Our computer was one they were going to pitch from the Y, seeing as the screen went dark whenever it pleased as if a ghost were in charge of the on-off button. That, and the keyboard was missing the letter
Q
, but Mama figured we could get along just fine without our
Q
s, and occasional black screens wouldn't hurt anybody.

If it were up to me though, there would have been a law against letting people with Down syndrome Google themselves. There was too much stuff on the Internet to misunderstand. One time Rainey Googled her own name and cried when she read she'd died in a car accident. Today she'd made the honor roll at some Presbyterian college in West Virginia, so she was happy. Now, she'd found every single online baby store for Mama and was making a list of things we were going to need for the baby: a blue crib, blue blankets, blue baby clothes. She was very good with her letters and lists. And her reading. But I really didn't think this was helping much.