Under the Mimosa Tree

Under the Mimosa Tree

It was Rose who suggested they should all go to a church on Christmas Eve. Pearl had known for weeks something wasn’t right.  As she sat listening to the choir sing about the birth of the Christ child, vomit rose in her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Tears filled her eyes. Some part of her knew then that a child was growing inside of her as it has grown inside the Virgin Mary.  The similarity stopped there.  Pearl spent Christmas day 1944 hoping it was the sausage and crabmeat stuffing that was making her so sick. 

 

Was she the same person who had her sins washed away in the waters of Pungo Creek?  Her belly swelled under her loose fitting dress as the baby grew inside of her.  A stew simmered in an open kettle that hung over the hearth.  Cinders from the fire rose and settled back into the kettle giving the stew a smoky flavor.  The taste sickened her.

 

In a few months she would be 18 years old. Pearl tried to calculate how long she had carried the child.  She estimated it had been at least four months. Soon she would no longer be able to keep her condition a secret.

 

It had been relatively easy to hide her pregnancy.    Shapeless clothes hid her belly.  At night she waited until the room she shared with her sister was dark before she slipped from the shadows into her narrow bed and turned her face to the wall.

 

When she could bear the secret no longer she went to her brother. She waited until an evening when they were alone in the barn. She spoke into the silent darkness. “We are going to have a baby. What should we do?”

 

He said nothing.  Pearl wondered if he had even heard her.     But then he spoke.  The tone of his voice was never warm when he spoke to her, but that night his words were as bitter, harsh and icy as the winter that had descended on Pungo Creek. “You’re going to get an abortion.”

The next Saturday Benjamin told Pearl to get herself ready, that they were going to Swanquarter.  He stopped the truck in front of a rundown, unpainted house. He waited outside while Pearl went in alone. 

 

A man shuffled into the room.  He was old. He wore bedroom slippers and a bathrobe. He did not talk to Pearl.  He just held out his hand for his money. He motioned that Pearl should follow him.  He led her to a small room. In the middle of the room there was a cot with a bare mattress. He gestured that Pearl should take off her underpants and lie on the cot. Then he took a prong-like instrument from the counter and told her to open her legs. Pearl did as she was told.  She tried to make her mind fly away so she wouldn’t have to remember what was going to happen next.  But the pain brought her harshly back to the present. When she cried out he growled, “If I don’t do this, you will still be pregnant.”  Pearl was quiet after that.   After a while he withdrew his instrument.  “Go home.  Your baby is dead.  In a few days it will come out.”

 

The ride home was silent. Not a word was spoken until Benjamin stopped the truck in front of the house. “Tell mama I had to go away for a few days. I have some business to take care of.”

Then he was gone without another word. Pearl went inside and immediately got into her bed. When Irene asked her what was wrong she only said she her menstrual flow was heavy and the cramping awful.  Irene brought her daughter a hot water bottle and a draught of whiskey. “Don’t tell anyone I’ve given you spirits. But this should help you, dear.”

 

Rose was awakened several times during the night by her sister’s moans. “Do you need anything, Pearl?”

 

“No, sister. I’m sorry I disturbed you. Please go back to sleep.”

 

The next morning Irene was reluctant to leave Pearl alone while they went to church but her daughter insisted. “Mama, you go on now. You know how bad that choir sounds without you and Rose. I’ll be fine here.”

 

 Soon Pearl’s body was wracked again by pain.  It hurt too much to lie still. She crawled from her bed and squatted on the floor.  A dead baby fell from between her legs.

 

She held her daughter in her arms for a time looking down at her perfectly formed body. Then she wrapped her carefully in a piece of blue cloth she had been saving.

 

She carried her bundle to the edge of the creek where she left it while she went to the barn and returned with a shovel. She dug into the soft earth under the mimosa tree. Then she knelt on the ground cradling the fetus. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I am so sorry.” Her blood mixed with the earth as she placed her baby lovingly in the ground and covered her, carefully disguising her grave. When she was satisfied she had left no trace, she returned the shovel to the barn and with her last bit of strength she crawled back into her bed where she tried to pray, but could not.  There was only one thing for her to do – run away. No one would believe what her brother was capable of. Even if they did, she could not face the shame. She quickly packed her few possessions, walked down the dirt road to the highway and stuck out her thumb.

Reviews

[piggy]

Wow. Cool. Awesum.