Dry Your Smile by Robin; Morgan Page A

you?”
    â€œDon’t flap your wings at me , honey. We’re just two gals in the same boat.” She grins. “I could hear you from way down the hall, yellin’ blue murder. Came by to say hello, see if I could help …”
    I’m in the same hospital with a colored woman. A schwarze who says we’re in the same boat, yet.
    â€œNo, I—I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”
    She shrugs.
    â€œSure sounded different to me. Sounded to me like you was one big talkin’ bruise in here. And lonely like nobody but a gal in labor can get.”
    â€œI need the nurse, that’s all. I just need—”
    â€œPain pill? Don’t hold your breath. That lady hoards them pills like they were goin’ outta season. Probably pops ’em herself for ear-ache with the likes of us around all the time.”
    Why does she keep comparing her and me? Her belly’s not big. She’s not pregnant.
    â€œYeah, well, I dropped mine yesterday. One of the worst. Now I’m just wadin’ around. Don’t believe ’em when they tell you it gets easier each time.”
    â€œYou—How many—”
    â€œFour. This one’s the fifth. And the last, no matter what I gotta do to be sure of that. ”
    Five times she’s gone through this. My God, she must be nuts. How does she do it? Why does anybody do it once they know what it’s like?
    â€œI’ll never have another one, never. Not me.”
    â€œThat’s what we all say. Probably see you back here next year. Your man, he’ll want more kids. They all do. They don’t have to have ’em. Or raise ’em.”
    My man. It goes through me like a knife. Even she has a man, the schwarze .
    â€œPlease … just leave me alone. If you want to help, go ask the nurse to come in. But just … leave me alone, will you?”
    She shrugs again.
    â€œWhatever you say. You pantin’ like a racehorse. Just thought you might be lonely. Everybody’s got a right. But whatever you say.” She turns in the doorway, then says soft, over her shoulder, “Yell your heart out, honey, if that’s what you wanna’ do. Least the sound of your own voice keeps you knowing you’re still alive. You change your mind, want company, you yell out ‘Vi!’ That’s me, Violet. I’ll hear ya.” She shuts the door behind her.
    Everything quiet again. The room comes back. The smell comes back, the silence. Why did I make her go, oh …
    No oh no , oh this is going to be a real bad one!
    â€œ Help, Nurse! I’m being torn in pieces!”
    The little demon , I want it to die. I hate you, God . I want to hurt you the way this baby’s hurting me!
    Dear vicious God, God of my mother and my sisters, God David never believed in, God who let Cossacks and Prussians trample us under their horses’ hooves and Nazis churn our filth into soap for their tidy Lysol-smelling unkosher kitchens, God who made me love David and try to fill his nothingness, Your nothingness, pace pace, mio Dio , God it hurts it hurts it hurts Hitler’s inside my body testing how to make every nerve-end scream in pain!
    Then let me die! Let both of us die. Wipe us out, God. If I die, oh if I die and it lives, then what? Who’ll take it? Yetta or Esther? Over my dead body. But that’s what it’d be, big joke. Him and his thin-blooded Viennese fiancée? Then he’d be sorry. Dear Führer, let me and the baby both die?
    Oh, you are good to ease the pain a little.
    Oh yes, yes .
    Thank you mighty Tsar, bless You, bless Yourself.
    I’m so tired …
    I never thought anybody could be this tired and still live.
    So sleepy …
    The smiles of all the Cossack host of angels there above me …
    Too tired to keep climbing this staircase. It never ends. Step after step, and this sack like lead on my back, hauling it up and up and up. Wait. No. Yes. There’s a landing.