Dry Your Smile by Robin; Morgan Page B

I can get there. I can do it. See? This door, opening … all this light streaming through it, where is this place? Who are they all in there, a vast room filled with old people, sitting, rocking, standing in groups, talking quietly. Anges radieux … Such light, golden … the light actually sings . Momma, is that you, walking toward me through the light, smiling? You always knew I was different, I wasn’t a whore, Momma you did love me after all! Let me come in, Momma, please? Let me put down this burden and come into the room? But you put out your hand to stop me. Arm straight, palm up, your fingers radiating crescent moons. “No, my Hokhmah, you can’t come in yet. It’s not time yet, my daughter. You have more flights to climb. And you must carry your burden with you.”
    â€œMercy, have mercy. Listen to me. Momma, I’m saying Kaddish for you: Yis-ga-dal ve-yis-ka-dash she-moi ra-ba be-al-ma … I’m saying Kaddish for myself, Momma. Let me in? Let me enter the light?”
    â€œGo away, Hokhmah, it’s not time. Turn and pick up the bundle again and go on.”
    â€œDon’t push me out, Momma. Look how I remember, see, I can say it: I am abashed and ashamed of the wicked deeds and sins I have committed. Please accept my pain , dear Momma, please accept my suffering , mein Führer, as atonement, and forgive my wrongdoing, for against You alone I have sinned. ”
    But she stands with her hand against my entering. She stands with her hand set against me, only her rain of crescents, like the holy yods Poppa would tell us about, falling on me.
    â€œKlayne libe, klayne Hokheleh, uber itst du gayn. Itst . Now. Meina tokhter, zeit gazunt, meina tokhter.”
    So I turn. You can never make Momma hear you, never. I turn from her radiant crescents and her Yiddish farewell. I hoist it up, the bundle, and sling it back over my shoulder. My face is slick with tears and my body is slick with sweat and I turn and place my right foot on the first step of the next flight. And I look ahead and the stairs wind up and up and I can’t see any landing or ending or place to rest, ever. And the left foot goes up. And then the right again. Shelter me in the shadow of Your wings: Ve-i-me-ru Amen. And I leave the singing light behind me and rise up into the dark.
    â€œMiss Baker? Miss Baker? There now. Goodness, I almost thought we’d lost you. You can’t give in like that, dear.”
    Who is this woman? Why is she all in white? Is she one of Them, from the room that glows and sings?
    â€œWho are you, Lady? Can I come in?”
    â€œYou are in, dear. You must have dozed off and had a dream. It’s good to rest between contractions, but you overdid it. Lost consciousness for a few minutes. Gave me quite a fright when I looked in. You were out like a light.”
    Out like a light.
    The green walls.
    The mocking ceiling.
    The spark of hurt, catching and smoldering back toward a blaze of pain.
    â€œNow you mustn’t cry, dear. Oh my, we’ve soiled the sheets a little. Here, we’ll just fix you up a bit. Where’s your sister gone? Out for some coffee? Aw, you’re having a hard time of it, I know. Doctor will check on you in a while.”
    â€œIt’s been a while. It’s been a hundred whiles. Can’t you give me a pill? Or a shot? Anything to put me out or dull the pain?”
    â€œMiss Baker, you know I can’t do that without Doctor ordering it. Let’s not pity ourselves, dear. Millions of women have gone through what you’re going through, and even worse.”
    â€œI’m not millions of women, damn you, I’m me . This baby is murdering me, can’t you see that?”
    The chippie, all she can do is stuff towels under me and straighten the sheets.
    Eva Braun herself, she must enjoy this.
    â€œLook, Miss Baker, honest, I’d give you something but I don’t dare to without his permission. And he’s