22. Roxie
Mother slapped her hand across her mouth. “I did not?—”
“What? What’s going on here.” Father smacked his sawdust-speckled hand onto the table.
Priscilla pointed a finger at our mother. “If you tell one more lie, you will never, and I mean never, see my children again. Do you understand?”
Mother lowered her hand and swallowed so loudly, I heard it. Then she let out a shaky breath then nodded.
“Agnes, what’s going on?” Father said, and when I looked into his eyes, it became apparent that he had no idea about the abortion. I was shocked by that. All these years, I’d thought he’d been involved too.
I spread my hands across the floral tablecloth and looked him in his eyes. “When I was sixteen, I fell pregnant. It was a stupid accident, and when Mom found out, she and Father Wilkins forced me to have a backyard abortion.”
“You didn’t.” Spittle landed on his chin as he glared at his wife.
“I. . . I did.” Mother’s eyes were huge, terrified. “I couldn’t let her go through what I went through.”
I cocked my head at her. “What? What’re you talking about?”
Mother clamped her jaw, and her body trembled. With every passing second, her eyes grew more bloodshot, like she was forcing back a demon.
“Tell us.” Priscilla slammed her hand on the table, everyone jumped, and the crockery bounced.
Mother squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, it looked like whatever demon she’d been fighting was gone. In fact, she looked calm.
She stood, clutched the silver cake server at her side, and calmly sliced the tea cake. “I was just twenty when I fell pregnant. But your father and I were already struggling, financially and emotionally, and we simply couldn’t take another child into the world.”
She placed a slice of cake onto my plate and her expression was blank like she was in a trance.
“Harrold arranged some work out at Roma, and we moved there.” She placed another slice of cake on Priscilla’s plate. “I stayed indoors for the entire pregnancy, and when. . .” she glanced at Dad like she was hoping he’d take over the story. But he remained stony-faced, and mother swallowed. “When the baby was born, arrangements were made to. . .” She paused, and a small crack crinkled her stony fa?ade, then she swallowed it back and sat down. “We gave our little girl up for adoption.”
“You did what?” Priscilla blurted.
“We have another sister?” I said.
Father released a sigh, and his frozen stature crumbled as if in relief.
“Let me get this straight.” Priscilla jabbed her long red nail at the table. “You made Roxie have an abortion, you made me keep a child I didn’t want, and all the while, you yourself had a baby, but you gave her away. You’re a fucking hypocrite!”
Mother froze, but the muscles along her jaw bulged when she turned from me to Priscilla. “That’s just it. Don’t you see? I’ve been tortured every single day of my life, wondering what happened to my baby girl. Not knowing is the worst kind of hell.”
“No, Mother!” I snapped. “What you put me through was hell. I can never have children because of what you did!”
“I didn’t know that would happen.” Her eyes grew glassy. “Father Wilkins insisted an abortion was best for all.”
“You could’ve stopped him!” I cried.
“I didn’t know it was going to be like that.” Mother’s voice quivered.
“Well, it was. They shredded my insides. I passed out because of the pain.”
Dad gasped.
Mom snapped her hands over her ears. “Stop it.” She screamed. “Stop it.”
“No.” Priscilla slapped the table again, and when Mother didn’t remove her hands, Priscilla yanked her left hand free. “You can’t hide from this anymore.”
“But you know what was worse?” I said. “You refused to talk about it. Ever. I was sixteen years old, just a child, and I couldn’t talk to anyone. You abandoned me.”
“No, I didn’t. Father Wilkins and I thought you’d forget about it.”
“What! I will never forget you holding me down while a complete stranger did that to me.”
Dad groaned.
“We were told it was for the best.” Her voice was heavy with resignation.
“By who?” I said. “No! Let me guess, Father Wilkins.”
Mother nodded.
“But you didn’t stop messing with our lives. Did you Mother?” Priscilla’s hands were balled into tight fists. “You made me marry a man I didn’t love just so I’d keep my baby.”
Mother sat up, a glimmer of happiness on her lips. “And look how lovely that worked out for you.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Priscilla hissed. “I lived in hell for years. Married to a man I didn’t love. Pretending to love a baby I didn’t want. But I made it through that torture on my own, not because of you.”
“Yes, I got it right with you. I knew you’d grow to love your baby.”
“I would have loved my baby,” I said. It hurt to say those words aloud. My whole life I’d wanted to be a mother, even when I was a little girl. “I would’ve given anything to hold my own baby in my arms, but you took that from me.”
“I held my baby in my arms.” Mother spoke to her trembling fingers. Trance-like. “But she was still taken away from me.” A tear spilled down her cheek. “I named her Lauren. It’s such a beautiful name, don’t you think?” A creepy smile was on her lips as she looked from Priscilla to me.
Nobody spoke. A blanket of guilt hung in the air. Every person at that table had suffered at the hands of others, and there wasn’t one thing any of us could do about it.
I ached with sorrow.
Every breath was hollow in my chest.
“She had fair hair, just like you, Roxie,” Mother continued. “I have a photo. Do you want to see?” Without a response, she stood and left the kitchen.
Father reached over and placed his hand on mine, but I tugged it away. “I’m sorry, Roxie, I never knew about the abortion.”
“Would you have stopped it?” I glared at him but kept my voice calm.
When he lowered his eyes and remained mute, I had my answer.
Mother returned with a wooden box. A small, embroidered decoration with two white doves was inlaid in the lid. Mother placed it on the table, flipped it open, and began taking out papers. She paused, and her fingers trembled as she reached in one more time and lifted out a photo.
The photo quivered in her fingers as a tear spilled down her cheek. She passed the photo to me. “Here’s your baby sister.” I reached for the photo. The edges were curled and worn like it had been handled many times. In the photo, Mother was lying in a bed, a tiny newborn wrapped in a cream blanket, was in her arms. Mother and baby seemed to be looking at each other.
A shiver ran up my neck, like fingernails had traveled up my skin, and I put the photo down.
“I held Lauren for just five minutes before she was taken away. I’ll never forget her.”
Priscilla held her hand forward, and I passed her the photo. As Priscilla studied the picture, I reached for a sheet of folded-up paper that Mother had removed from the box.
I unfolded it. The document was a birth certificate. As I scanned my eyes down the page, I expected it to be the birth certificate of the sister I never knew existed. But to my surprise, it was my own. I read down the page. A gasp tumbled from my throat. “What the hell?”
Mother spun to me, and the stupor that had been on her face a moment ago evaporated when she saw what I was holding.
“What is it?” Priscilla demanded.
“It’s my birth certificate. But it has the father listed as unknown.”
Dad?” I turned to the man I’d thought was my father. “Why aren’t you on my birth certificate?”
He scowled at Mom, then clenched his eyes shut. “I’m not your father.”
“What? Fucking hell!” I yelled.
“Oh, Mother, this just gets better and better,” Priscilla said. “You’ve been sitting on your high and mighty throne all your life, pretending to be so fucking pure.”
I didn’t know whether to scream in fury or burst into tears. “Who’s my father?”
Neither parent spoke.
“Mother!” Priscilla snapped. “I meant what I said about never seeing your grandchildren again.” Priscilla spoke calmly, yet her words cut like a scalpel.
“You don’t. . . you don’t,” Mother stammered. “You don’t want to know.”
“Like hell I don’t,” I yelled. “Who is it?”
Mother squeezed her eyes shut. “Father Wilkins,” she blurted.
A wave of hell washed over me. “What!” My heart exploded. I clutched my chest and gasped for air, unable to breathe. An angry snake curled inside me. “Oh god!” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “I had sex with my half-brother.” I stood up so fast my chair slammed to the floor.
I covered my mouth, trying to hold back the vomit burning for release as I ran to the bathroom.
“That’s why you had to have the abortion,” Mother called after me.
I clutched the toilet bowl and hurled my stomach contents over and over.
“Because of incest.” Mother’s voice thundered down the hallway.
My world spun, my heart erupted, I tilted sideways, my body hit the floor, and as the word incest ricocheted through my brain, my world went blank.