Really, freaky!
Why didn’t he call? He must surely be back from his trip by now? But he hadn’t called and didn’t answer the phone, the secure number. She was almost tempted to call his home to speak to his wife but knew she wouldn’t. It had never been that kind of affaire; she didn’t see herself becoming the second Mrs. Anybody. No; it had been for fun, companionship and much more excitement, he said, than he ever got at home.
When she knew for certain, she told him. Why didn’t you?…why didn’t you? I did, you know I did, they break you know they tear, they leak. That’s what it was a freak leak. How long now? So long? Why did you wait? Get rid of it!
No!
No she wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. I only want your name on the certificate – just say you’ll let me put it there.
You must be mad!
I’m not! Please, please don’t say no. Talk about it a little.
Later! I must go. I am going abroad for a week, that’s what I came to tell you.
Call me when you return?
But he had not. As crucial days passed she felt her anger mounting. The fury bubbling in her would break out and she would slam her fists into her stomach. Get out, get out! You mistake, you freak; you freak leak! She exercised, threw herself into Christmas shopping, helped backstage at practices for the Christmas pageant at the International school where she taught Biology and English Literature. She climbed ladders, reached for inaccessible wires, jumped over whatever she could find in her way. She told herself she wanted to help but deep inside something was plotting; hoping for a… “Miss, Miss Sirasi, where are you?”
“She’s right here, you ass!”
“I know she is here, but is she all here?”
Bright fourteen year olds clustered around her, bristling with the energy that the end of term brings.
“That’s enough, Mohan, I’m sorry I got distracted for a little while.”
“A little while? Half a period, more likely!”
“Distracted? How about catatonic?” Jhan, the smart one, called ‘The Maaan’ by his peers. She knew their nicknames, Moanie, Doodle, and the rhyming slang for Monica who would have liked to be teacher’s pet. That name, Sirasi had politely asked them to change.
“We didn’t mind, Miss. It’s just that you said you were going to the rehearsal of the Christmas pageant and Kilo, I mean Kyle, and Joanna already went.”
“Are we to do any work while you’re gone?” asked Monica, earning glares from the others.
“Miss Naomi is coming to keep an eye on you and I want you all to behave. You know how she is right now.”
“Heavily pregnant!”
Miss Naomi appeared in the doorway. She was. The pubescent tide surged away from Sirasi and rolled towards Naomi engulfing her in a wave of solicitousness.
Miss come in Miss, sit here, don’t climb the podium, sit on this chair. When is the baby due, Miss? Are the movements very strong? Then Mohan asked cheekily, “Miss Sirasi, don’t you wish you were having a baby?”
Her hands flew out so suddenly she thought she had slapped him but they merely clapped together.
“Enough!” she said. “Your seats please! And to keep yourselves occupied you may write an essay on Christmas.”
“A bit politically incorrect to ask some of us to do that, don’t you think, Miss?” That was Jhan and she knew he was joking. But she amended,“Alright, write about what Christmas or the Christmas holiday means to you.” David, who had sat doodling throughout looked up with a grimace. “Please, Miss!”
“Draw if you like, write a poem, make a collage, create a play…anything!” she said, and left.
…………………..
Checking in after the rehearsal, she found a single sheet of paper on her desk. She stuffed it into her folder. The students were long gone.
…………………..
ASSIGNMENT:
He sounded so…distraught.
A baby? But how…? who…?
My mother murmured.
An Angel… An ANGEL gave you a message?
They are both silent. Then his word fall like clods of earth: You know the Law.
Yes.
My mother’s voice is low; agonised. I know her moods; have known her since I was a mere possibility, then a probability and then a certainty the size of a mustard seed. She looks to this man for her rights. She feels she has none. If he denounces her I will hear shrieking hate in the names they call her and the thud thud thud of stones and rocks as they pulverise first her, then me.
More silence. Then words choke out from him: I will not accuse you to the elders.
My mother relaxes a little.
I thank you.
He leaves us, his feet making dragging sounds.
We go back to work, sweeping, grinding, working in the field. My mother sleeps; wakes. We work, sweep, grind, sleep, wake…
Her parents are grateful her life is to be saved. She waits for a word of trust.
Feet approach at a run, Mary, I believe, I believe you. I have been shown that what you said is true. I will care for you, love you. I accept Him. I will love Him.
My mother smiles. She feels lighter, lifted. His voice is tender, reassuring; awed.
In my fluid habitat I do a dance of joy. She does not feel them yet but I make waves that lap against her, flutters that tickle like air bubbles caught between the layers of her skin like gas waiting to emerge.
I am accepted and there will be people who will wait for me to be born. They will be glad and they will love me.
And I will be good for them.
This is what Christmas means to me.
…………………..
When she read it in the cab, she laughed. She could see it was a joint effort, she was certain she knew what each child had written. David’s contribution she almost missed but there it was in a corner:
When she let herself into the apartment the tears came, surprising her. What? It was just a story! A made up thing by a bunch of teenagers, collaborating. It was not real!
A foetus couldn’t feel! Not emotion!
She knew about each trimester and development and viability and she taught when each organ formed. She knew when foeti could hear, but they could not, surely COULD NOT feel emotion. Her anger, and frustration. Would it have felt her banging on her stomach and calling it names? It would have known she was jumping around being very active backstage but it could NOT have known why. Could not have known she wished it gone. Could it? Could you? You’re real, but not that real, you’re not…you’re not…you’re not…she sank down, spent.
She came to, sitting on the floor, her head on her knees. She might have blacked out or just fallen asleep. Hours had passed. It was darkening outside. She went to the kitchen, drank some water. Caught sight of herself in a mirror. Half-dried snot and tears were mixed on her face. She washed, changed. Came back to the living room. She sat on the sofa, stroked her stomach. She had changed towards it and she knew it.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry I took it out on you. I’m sorry I whacked my stomach and wished you were out of there. Most of all, I’m sorry I called you a freak leak.
The faintest flutter; an inside tickle.
Freak leak? Again: something. Like gas, but not!
You like that? You do like it! You are a freak! I’ll call you Freaky, shall I?
She shouted with laughter, jumped up, turned on the radio. Carols! One hand on Freaky, one hand waving in the air she led herself in a wild, but not too wild, waltz, singing, laughing, delirious. She increased the volume on the radio and filled her home with sound…………………..
The man outside the apartment leaned against the door, listening. He heard her voice, then her laugh. He heard music. What he had to say to her he could not say if there was anyone else there. He did not want to say it: it was over.
He had met her, a pretty ‘England returnee’, armed with an array of impressive qualifications. Just a little out of touch with the social scene here. He followed through on his initial attraction only after some discreet information gathering which told him she was single, orphaned young, independently wealthy. She had no siblings but there were relatives, aunts, uncles and cousins in different parts of the island. In Colombo, she was alone.
It had been easy. She was looking for friendship, he was charming. But his name on the Birth Certificate! Never! He needed no added responsibilities and would not live waiting for an axe like that to fall.
He reached for his key card but the music increased in volume. He turned away. He had hoped she would be out but this served as well. He took the addressed envelope out of his pocket and sealed up the key card in it. He left it at the security desk and went away.
…………………..
Inside the apartment Sirasi sat down, smiling. We’ll be okay, you and I, Freaky. You won’t be lonely. No grandparents for you but I have aunts, uncles, cousins. They’ll be watching out for us. Once they hear my news my cousins will eagerly wait for you to be born. You’ll see. There’ll be lots of people who will accept you and love you.
She stood, turned on some lights and lowered the sound on the radio. Picking up the ‘assignment’ from where it lay, she replaced it in the folder. Tomorrow she would give them all an A.
It was Christmas after all.