Breath, Eyes, Memory - Edwidge Danticat [57]
"How's the baby?"
"Good," I said, "How's yours?"
"Don't call it that," she said. "I haven't decided if I will follow through. It's fighting me though. More and more of a fighter every day."
"Is Marc there?"
"Yes, but he can sleep and I can't. I am watching television. I don't know. It's really hard. You know what happens now. I look at every man and I see him."
"Marc?"
"Non non," she whispered. "Him. Le rioleur, the rapist. I see him everywhere."
"Have you told Marc?"
"He thinks my body is in shock from getting pregnant after all the cancer treatment."
"You should tell someone."
"You cannot report a ghost to the police."
Joseph's hands were creeping up my arm and going through the top of my nightgown.
"I tried to get rid of it," she said, "Today. But they wanted me to think about it for twenty-four hours. When I thought of taking it out, it got more horrifying. That's when I began seeing him. Over and over. That man who raped me."
"We'll come and visit you this weekend," I said.
"I want Joseph to meet Marc."
I felt his other hand creeping up my thighs, his hair smelling like aftershave as his face approached mine.
"Manman, I have to go," I said. "We'll visit with you on the weekend. Maybe Saturday."
"Saturday will be a wonderful day then," she said.
He reached over and pulled my body towards his. I closed my eyes and thought of the Marassa, the doubling. I was lying there on that bed and my clothes were being peeled off my body, but really I was somewhere else. Finally, as an adult, I had a chance to console my mother again. I was lying in bed with my mother. I was holding her and fighting off that man, keeping those images out of her head. I was telling her that it was all right. That it was not a demon in her stomach, that it was a child, like I was once a child in her body. I was telling her that I would never let anyone put her away in a mental hospital, that I would take care of her. I would visit her every night in my doubling and, from my place as a shadow on the wall, I would look after her and wake her up as soon as the nightmares started, just like I did when I was home.
I kept thinking of my mother, who now wanted to be my friend. Finally I had her approval. I was okay. I was safe. We were both safe. The past was gone. Even though she had forced it on me, of her sudden will, we were now even more than friends. We were twins, in spirit. Marassas.
"Can we visit my mother this weekend?" I asked Joseph.
"Whatever you want." He was panting.
"You were very good," he said.
"I kept my eyes closed so the tears wouldn't slip out."
I waited for him to fall asleep, then went to the kitchen. I ate every scrap of the dinner leftovers, then went to the bathroom, locked the door, and purged all the food out of my body.
Chapter 31
There were three of us in my sexual phobia group. We gave it that name because that's what Rena—the therapist who introduced us—liked to call it.
Buki, an Ethiopian college student, had her clitoris cut and her labia sewn up when she was a girl. Davina, a middle-aged Chicana, had been raped by her grandfather for ten years.
We met at Davina's house. She was the only one of us with a place to herself. Buki lived in a college dorm and, of course, I lived with Joseph.
Davina had a whole room in her house set aside for our meetings. When we came in, we changed into long white dresses that Buki had sewn for us. We wrapped our hair in white scarves that I had bought. As we changed in the front room, I showed them the statue of Erzulie that my grandmother had given me. Davina told me to take it into the room myself, as I pondered what it meant in terms of my family.
The air in our room smelled like candles and incense. We sat on green heart-shaped pillows that Davina had made. The color green stood for life and growth.
We bowed our heads and recited a serenity prayer.
God grant us the courage to change those things we can, the serenity to accept the things we can't, and the wisdom to know the difference."
I laid the Erzulie next to our other keepsakes, the