Rebecca Page 21

  The doctor smiled. "Of course."

  They wheeled her in in one of those plastic baby buckets Sarah recognized from the maternity unit. She was crying. Sarah wanted to leap out of the bed, pull her close, tell her everything was okay.

  "Here we go," the nurse said as she carried her over. "Who's that? Is that your mama?"

  Sarah cradled her daughter with her good arm. It was awkward and unwieldy, but the baby's crying stopped at once. She looked up at her mother, her eyes wide, and smiled. Her whole face lit up with it; it eclipsed the memories of her old gas smiles instantly.

  The nurse pulled in a breath and tsked. "What a smile! Oh my."

  Sarah stared at the girl, enrapt. "Hi," she whispered. She could feel herself smiling back, could feel tears streaking her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

  "Did Doctor Dominguez come down?" the nurse asked. "She's fine, just some minor bruising."

  "She's never smiled at me before," Sarah breathed.

  "Well, she loves you," the nurse said. "Look at that."

  110

  Sarah fed her from a bottle the nurse had provided. Afterward, exhausted, Becca settled against her mom's bicep and passed out. Sarah watched her breathe, watched her lips leak drool and her little eyes twitch behind their lids. Her feelings lurched from terror to relief to a fierce need to protect this little girl. She could almost welcome Cal back into her life, just for the opportunity to kill him for hurting her.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'll never let him near you again. I don't care what happens." She lifted Becca to her lips, gave her a little kiss on her left temple. "I love you."

  Eventually the girl's heat and weight proved too much for her, and she passed into dozing herself. In her dreams, Cal's manic eyes accosted her; the imagined beep of the microwave blared like a klaxon.

  "Sarah?"

  She came out of her nightmare smoothly, exiting into the hospital room as if she had never left it. Tiff was there at her bedside, her face awash in relief and horror.

  "You're here," Sarah said. She could've wept again, but she was too weary for it.

  "Yeah," Tiff said. She leaned in, gave her a kiss. "Yeah. Of course. Jesus Christ, are you okay?"

  "Yeah. He broke my wrist, and a couple ribs. But Rebecca's okay. He wanted to kill her."

  Tiff's eyes darkened. "What?"

  "He tried to trick me... he wanted to kill her. And he tried to rape me."

  "I'm gonna fucking kill him."

  "I told the cops. They're looking for him. Don't do anything stupid."

  Tiff's expression softened. "Are you okay?" she said again. She reached out a hand, but one of Sarah's hands was in bandages up to the thumb, and the other was clutching Rebecca, so she caressed Sarah's forehead instead.

  Sarah closed her eyes and sank into the hospital pillow, clinging to the sensation of her touch. "I think so," she breathed. "I think so. Just don't go anywhere."

  111

  She asked Tiff to call her mom, because someone had to. "She's on her way," Tiff said when she hung up, but until Mom actually stepped into the hospital room, Sarah wasn't sure she believed her.

  "Oh my gosh," Mom said. "Oh my gosh. Are you okay?"

  Sarah was happy to see her. As she hurried to the bed, though, Pastor Dennis emerged behind her.

  "Knock, knock," he intoned, with that old smile like everything was some kind of giant joke in the eyes of God.

  "What happened?" Mom took her good hand, sat down on the little stool Doctor Dominguez had used earlier. "I came right away."

  "But you stopped to bring him?" Sarah couldn't help herself. She was furious and hurt; it was a struggle to stop herself from ordering them both out of the room.

  "We were talking. He was already at the house. We were... going to visit you, this afternoon."

  Suddenly, Sarah felt like she was back in the apartment, fighting for her life.

  "He's your pastor, Sarah. God -"

  "Your mom just asked me to come along and pray for you," Dennis said with a broad grin. "I won't stay if you don't want me to." His eyes said, You wouldn't kick God out of your hospital room, would you?

  "My gosh," Mom said again. Her eyes flashed from Sarah's shattered wrist to her swollen eye to her wrapped feet and ribs. "What happened?" She glanced at Tiff. "Did you see - ?"

  "It was Cal," Sarah answered. "He attacked me." She stared at her mother until she looked up, met Sarah's eyes. "He tried to kill Becca."

  Mom covered her mouth. Pastor Dennis whistled.

  "You -" Mom started, then interrupted herself. "Where is he?"

  "I don't know. The cops are looking for him. He ran off."

  "God was looking out for you, young lady," Dennis announced gravely.

  "Really?" she spat. "Because it sure didn't feel that way." She looked back at her mom. "He held me down," she said, her voice shaking, "and tried to rape me. Said he wanted to 'fuck me straight.' When that didn't work, he kicked me. Broke my wrist. Broke my ribs. He was screaming. 'Dyke.' 'Faggot.'" She hurled the words at her mom like daggers; she wanted them to draw blood. "He wanted to kill me.

  "And now you guys are here. You're here" - she looked at Dennis - "because my mom wanted to do some kind of exorcism, right? To talk me out of being gay?" Her face was boiling; her hands quivered with rage. "Because I'm not in the fucking mood."

  The color had drained from her mother's face; she clutched Sarah's good hand like it was a lifeline.

  "Sarah, now you listen to me," Pastor Dennis said. "You've had a horrible time. I know. I just want you to remember, everything happens for a reason. God moves in mysterious ways. You're alive, and little Becky's alive, and that's what important. We can talk about this later, when you've healed a little. But don't you worry - I'm sure it figures in to God's plan for your life." He reached down, as if to pat her hand.

  "Like teaching me a lesson about being a dyke?" she snarled. "Is that what you're getting at? Where does Becca come into it? Is there a reason she had to be stuffed into the microwave?" She wanted to choke him. "Is there a reason He wanted to kill her?"

  "Now, that wasn't part of God's plan, Sarah. This Cal boy, if he did what you said - that was the devil acting in him. No one could act that way unless Satan put them up to it."

  If he did what I said? Sarah shook her head, marveling. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

  Dennis glanced at Sarah's mother. "I think maybe I ought to come back later."

  "No," Sarah demanded. "No, I don't think so. What's wrong? Why don't you want to talk? I'm telling you, you have no idea what you're talking about. Do you know why this happened? Do you?"

  Dennis looked back at her, and a change came over him: that fake camaraderie disappeared, replaced by something harder. "The Lord -" he started.

  "You. It happened because of you."

  Dennis chuckled. "Now, that's a new one."

  "You had me convinced for years I was possessed. You had me convinced that everything I thought was wrong, everything I wanted was wrong. But that was all a lie. You're a liar."

  He wasn't used to this kind of accusation from people in his church. His eyes darkened.

  "I got with Cal because I thought it was the only way to prove I was okay. But there was nothing wrong with me to start with. If I would've known that -"

  "Nothing wrong with you?" Dennis barked, incredulous. "Sarah, can't you see Satan working in your life? He is here, right now, working on you while you're weakest. Look at yourself! Look at what's happened! These choices" - he gestured toward Tiff, as if her presence were all the explanation he needed - "nearly got your daughter killed today. Cal wouldn't have to do all this if you hadn't hurt him."

  She'd thought he couldn't shock her anymore. She was wrong.

  "Can't you see how you're destroying everything around you? Can't you see how you're hurting your mother?" He grimaced with forced empathy, raised his hands as though his gesticulations could convince her. "You need to come clean, Sarah. You need J
esus."

  Even now? she thought, stunned. Even here?

  How many times had those words driven her to the altar, sobbing?

  "He is here, and he loves you, and he wants his daughter back." He held out his hands. "Please, Sarah. Please hear him now."

  She could feel the naked disgust on her face. She couldn't believe she had ever fallen for this.

  "I think you should leave," Tiff said.

  Dennis glared at her. "She asked me to stay. I think you should mind your business, and what's more, you're not welcome in this room. You aren't family."

  "You can't kick her out of my room," Sarah said. "Who do you think you are?"

  "Sarah." He leaned toward her, his belt straining, his face red. "Please. It doesn't have to be like this. I know you're scared. I know you're confused. Jesus can help, but only if you let him in."

  "Is this why you brought him?" Sarah demanded of her mother. "So he can browbeat me while I'm trapped in a hospital bed?" Get the fuck out, she wanted to say. Both of you. But she hesitated. As appalling as it was, she was still desperate for her mother.

  Mom looked at her. Her face was a mask of conflict. "Reverend," she finally said, and glanced up at him, "I'm sorry, but I think this was a mistake. This isn't the time."

  Sarah's gaze latched on to her mother's face like it was the rising sun.

  "Beth," Dennis said. "You can't let her get to you like that. This is exactly when it's most important to stand strong. She needs your example, she needs -"

  "Look at my little girl!" Mom retorted. "Look at her! She was practically beaten to death! Can't you see that?"

  "Beth, this is a matter of spiritual warfare. God was trying to speak to her today."

  Mom's jaw dropped, her eyes flashing. "And this was the best He could do? She could've been killed!"

  "But she wasn't. She survived. Don't you see?"

  Mom swallowed; she looked queasy. Her eyes darted from the sight of her broken daughter to her pastor. "Get out of here."

  He drew up. "Beth, now, you asked me to come with you -"

  "And now I'm telling you to leave!"

  He pulled back like he'd been slapped. His face darkened - whether with rage or embarrassment, Sarah didn't know.

  She barely noticed him leaving. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her mom.

  112

  She had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Tiff took Becca home at night so Sarah could get some rest, but her sleep was filled with nightmare glimpses of the apartment, of Cal pinning her down, of screams and microwaves. She nearly asked Tiff to leave Becca in the room so she could see her right away, but Tiff was always there when she woke, and her baby too.

  The day of her discharge, Sarah's mom drove her home.

  "Tiff said they're still looking for Cal," she said as they pulled out of the ramp. "Have you heard anything?"

  "No, but she wants me to press charges when they find him."

  "Are you going to?"

  Sarah licked her lips. The conversation felt like a minefield. Her mom had been acting weird for days. "Well, yeah. He tried to kill my baby. Of course I am."

  "Good." Mom didn't look at her; her eyes were glued to the light downtown traffic. "Good. I hope they cut his balls off."

  It took Sarah by surprise. She released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be a good start."

  "Are you feeling okay? How is your wrist?"

  "It hurts. They said it would be a few weeks still, but it should heal right."

  "Your lung? Your ribs?"

  "They're all right, Mom. They wouldn't be letting me go otherwise."

  "I can't believe..." Mom trailed off. Sarah caught a glimpse of her standing tears before she suddenly checked the traffic to the left, surreptitiously dabbing at her eyes. "This never should've happened. You should've been at home."

  Sarah wasn't sure she'd heard this correctly. "What?"

  "I never should've made you leave. Did I tell you that was his idea, too?"

  "Who? Pastor Dennis?"

  She nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know why I listened to him. He said it would be better for you. He said..." She floundered, waving a hand at traffic. "I don't know what he said. I shouldn't have listened to him." She looked over at Sarah, caught her eyes. "Do you want to come home?"

  "I..." She was at a loss for words. The question alone made her vision blur. "I don't know, Mom. I'm glad you're asking, but..." God damn it. She didn't want to fight. She was so sick of fighting. "Tiff's gonna move in."

  Mom looked surprised, or hurt; it was hard to tell which.

  "Or we're going to move out, together. I don't know. I know you don't approve, so you're not going to pay for the apartment. I know that. But we - we're together."

  "Well, I don't approve," Mom said. "You're right about that." Her lips pinched.

  Sarah felt her muscles clenching, making her ribs throb.

  "But... you know what Pastor Dennis was saying? That sometimes, God is trying to tell us something?"

  No. Not again. Please don't. They hadn't talked about Pastor Dennis since he'd left. Why did they have to talk about him now? What did he really have to do with anything?

  "I think he was right, but not the way he thought. Because it made me look at myself. Cal could've killed you. He could've raped and killed you. You didn't deserve that. Becky didn't deserve that. I don't care -" She rolled to a stop at a red light, her breath catching, and paused to get ahold of herself. "So it's a sin. So what? You think Pastor Dennis has never sinned? That doesn't mean God would want to kick the snot out of him. It's..." Her eyes darted, searching the dashboard for the words.

  "You're my daughter," she finally hissed. "And I love you, and if Pastor Dennis doesn't get that then maybe he has everything wrong." For a second she looked appalled, like she wanted to gather the words back and hide them away; then her face hardened. "And I'm so sorry, Sarah." She grabbed Sarah's good hand. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what this all means. I know sin when I see it, but I don't want to lose you. If you've really been praying since you were eight, then why...?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have the answers. But seeing you like this, just because you're..." She still couldn't bring herself to say the word gay. "I don't think it was a message for you. I think it was a message for me.

  "I love you."

  Sarah squeezed her hand, her eyes closed, fighting back tears. "Okay," she said. "I love you too, Mom."

  The light turned green. Sarah's mom started driving.

  But she didn't let go of Sarah's hand.

  113

  Tiff had cleaned up the apartment: the broken glass was gone, a new table stood in the dining room, and a few carefully placed rugs hid the blood stains in the carpet. She was cooking when they came in, and Becca was doing tummy time. Her wails melted into the whine of the microwave and the dull roar of the kitchen fan to create a welcoming chaos that sounded, Sarah realized, like home.

  The four of them had dinner together. Sarah told her mom about her plans to work for a year or so, until Becca was old enough to get into an affordable daycare; Tiff was planning to work as well.

  Mom looked surprised to hear this. "Don't you have school?" she asked Tiff.

  "I was planning on it, but it'll depend on our work schedules, and whether we can find someone we trust to watch Becca. I might have to wait a year or two. It's not that big a deal."

  "It's a huge deal," Mom pressed. "You got in for this year. You'll have to apply again."

  Tiff shrugged. "This is more important to me. I love Sarah." She held Sarah's mother's eyes as she said it, but it wasn't a challenge, just a statement of fact. "I love Becca too, for that matter."

  "And the money will help with rent," Sarah put in, trying to defuse the tension.

  Mom looked at her. "You just worry about getting better, and taking care of your little girl. You can save up for daycare or whatever you need to do to go to school. That's fine. But you don't worry about rent.
" She held Sarah's eyes. "You understand me? You might not be making all the choices I'd make, but my daughter and my granddaughter are not going to be in the streets. That's not going to happen."

  Her defiance was surprising, and completely unnecessary. But Sarah suddenly realized she wasn't trying to overcome the objections of her daughter.

  She was overcoming the objections of her faith.

  114

  After Mom left and Becca was napping, Sarah lay down on the couch. Tiff sat on the floor next to her, and they talked about little things: Sarah's mom's sudden change of heart, Rebecca's gorgeous smile, Tiff's uncle's restaurant. Sarah was starting to drift off when the door buzzer jarred her awake.

  "I got it," Tiff said, and scrambled to the button. "Who is it?"

  "Minneapolis Police," came the voice.

  Sarah sat up, her heart suddenly pounding. "Do you think they got him?" she asked after Tiff buzzed the speaker through.

  "I fucking hope so."

  The cop was the same one she'd seen on the day Cal attacked her, the one who had promised her they'd find him. He waited in the hallway as she opened the door, keeping a respectful distance.

  The conversation was short. They'd found Cal in his car that morning. He had shot himself in the head with his father's pistol.

  "Good riddance," Tiff said when they were alone again. "Coward."

  But the news left Sarah shaking. The realization she'd had just before Cal attacked her - that she had pulled him into this, that she had used him - haunted her. She couldn't discuss it with Tiff, though. It was too close to the bad memories between them.

  No one else would even come close to understanding, so she buried it.

  115

  Tiff got the job at her uncle's place, and supported them both while Sarah's wrist healed. The resentment Sarah kept expecting from her never came. Sometimes, at night, she would whisper to Tiff about her doubts, and Tiff would kiss her until they went away.