Good Dirt

Henry in the Morning

Henry in the Morning

H enry in the morning is at his best. Henry, watching the light shift. Wandering, looking, waiting. Clicking the shutter, again and again. But this morning, Henry is not on his usual walk. His camera sits unused on the dining table. Henry is sitting at the window of the guest cottage, looking for a sign that Ebby is awake. Maybe the kitchen door will open and Ebby will step outside. But there are no lights on in the house, no sign of activity. Henry has only a few more minutes. The driver will be here, any time now, to take him to the airport.

Of all the things that Henry has wondered about in the past ten months, about how Ebby was doing, about what Ebby was thinking, not one of those even came close to the idea that she might have been pregnant before the wedding. Even though a man had to assume this kind of thing could happen. Basic biology, Henry. But truly, it had never occurred to him that Ebby could be pregnant so soon.

Henry had wanted children with Ebby. Really, he had. Though, to be honest, he had wondered if it would be such a good idea for someone with Ebby’s background. It was his mother who had raised the question.

“So you’re thinking of children?” Henry’s mother had said while buttering a scone.

“Well, sure,” Henry said, smiling, but looking down. He felt shy talking about these things with his mom. Especially when he knew she wasn’t wild about Ebby.

“You know Ebby’s background,” his mother said, now.

“Yes,” he said. “I mean, well, what do you mean?”

“Meaning, women of color are more likely to suffer post-traumatic stress disorder,” Henry’s mom said.

“I think anyone would suffer PTSD, Mom, if their brother had been shot to death in their home.”

“Exactly, but that hasn’t happened to anyone else we know. Plus, I’ve seen studies.”

“I think I know what you mean, Mom,” said Henry. “Studies about the disproportionate burden of PTSD among women of color? Part of the reason for that is in this country, they don’t have the same level of access to the proper care or support they need. There may be some social and economic situations going on. But bear in mind that these don’t really apply to someone like Ebby.”

“Someone like Ebby?”

“Well, Ebby’s family isn’t exactly destitute, you know that. The fact is, Ebby has had all the advantages.”

“I don’t know, it’s not always about money,” Henry’s mom said.

“It’s not always about color, either, Mother.”

After that conversation, Henry’s mother gave him the silent treatment for two weeks. Which was saying a lot, for her only son. For her only child. Henry knew that his mother was more than a little bent out of shape by the fact that Henry was marrying a black woman. He hated to admit it, but this was the simple truth. But his mom’s comment had touched a nerve. Privileged or not, black or not, Ebby still exhibited the effects of her childhood trauma. Was this likely to cause problems if she became pregnant?

But all that is past, now, and Henry’s last half hour has come and gone. He does a final check of the cottage, finds a lip thingy of Avery’s near the foot of the bed, turns it over and over in his hands for a moment, holds it up to his nose, then tosses it in a trash basket. Ebby isn’t coming outside, is she? Ebby is doing this on purpose, isn’t she? Avoiding him until he leaves. Henry thought that last night, everything that happened, would have taken them forward somehow. After Ebby told him about the miscarriage and he told her about his worries over the jar, it seemed there wasn’t anything they couldn’t say to each other. There wasn’t anything they didn’t say.

There wasn’t anything they didn’t do.

But in the end, she asked him to leave anyway. She pushed the door shut behind him, turned the lock, and immediately switched off the light in the kitchen. Refused to reopen the door when he turned back and knocked. Called her name. He could hear her shut the bedroom door. Well, Henry thinks, a clearer message than that he isn’t going to get. And it’s not right to insist any more than he already has. What’s important is that Ebby sees, now, how Henry feels. These things take time. There’s still Connecticut. He’ll find a way to make it up to her. And he’s got a heck of a lot to take care of before he faces Ebby again.

Henry hears car wheels now, rolling over the gravel. It’s the airport limo. It’s time to leave Ebby behind.