Flashback 2
Right after my seventh birthday, my mom’s belly began growing.
With each passing month, it gets bigger and bigger.
Eventually, it sticks out so much from the rest of her body that it’s sometimes hard for her to move.
She complains that her back hurts and her feet are swollen.
But she also tells me it’s totally normal, and that she felt the same way when she was pregnant with me.
Mom is pregnant. It suits her. She's more beautiful than ever. Her rounded face is happier, younger, radiant. Her looks have changed. I couldn’t ask for anything more. If she’s happy, so am I.
All the wounds my father inflicted on her a few months earlier have healed. On that day and the days that followed, I washed and cared for my mom’s wounds. And she washed and cared for mine. I told no one what happened behind the closed doors of my father’s office.
Undeniably, however, the events of that day changed something in me forever.
Every night, I had nightmares, not only about my father but also things I hadn’t seen with my own eyes. They were filled with evil, as much as I could tell as a child.
At first, I woke up every night in wet sheets. The images that haunted me were so terrifying, they were stronger than me. My mom looked at me with sadness, sent me to the shower, and changed my sheets.
Then I started sleepwalking. Once, my mother found me standing on the dining room table; another time, I was hiding in a kitchen cupboard.
Yet another time, she found me standing in my father’s study, staring at the place where her blood had once stained the floor.
That’s when she got scared, and cried until morning.
The next day, she dared to ask my father to let us see a therapist. I don’t know what he said that day, but when she left his office, she was white as a sheet. We never made it to the therapist.
I rarely see my father as he spends most of his nights in his apartment in the city. That doesn’t bother me at all. I’m not afraid we’ll repeat my lesson; rather, I’m afraid for my mom.
“Ryker, do you want to feel your sister’s kicks?”
Snapped out of my thoughts, I look at Mom, who’s sitting on the couch in the living room. Her legs are covered with a green blanket because she has been feeling cold a lot lately. Her hands are resting on her round belly, and she’s smiling slightly.
Approaching her, I sit down on the edge of the couch. The happiness on my mother’s face is undeniable. The green of her eyes so shiny.
“Put your hand on my belly, I’ll show you,” she says softly.
The skin on her belly is warm and nice to the touch. I’ve seen her rub some wonderful lotions into that part of her body to make her skin soft. The belly itself is hard and seems to be filled to the brim with water. Mom says that’s how it is.
She leads my hand to the center, and we both fixate on it, mesmerized.
“What now?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“Now we wait for your sister to greet you with a kick.”
“But I don’t want her to kick you. It’ll hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt, Ryker. Sometimes the baby stretches in the belly and you can see, for example, a fist or a heel. A bump on the belly. And sometimes the baby is restless or wants to play and kicks lightly, but it doesn’t hurt.”
Right then something moves under my hand. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s weird.
A smile slowly spreads across my face. I want to say hello to my little sister again, so I place my hand more firmly in the same spot.
“What will her name be?” I ask.
“What would you like her name to be? Maybe you have an idea?”
I don’t have to think long. “Maybe we’ll call her Cristiano Ronaldo? Like the famous soccer player?”
Mom throws her head back and bursts into laughter. She shakes her head and says, “But Cristiano is a man. And you’re going to have a little sister.”
She’s kind of right. I don’t know many soccer players, so I list the names of girls that come to mind.
“Maybe we’ll name her Aisling. Like Grandma’s name?” My sister responds to my suggestion with another kick. “Aisling. Do you like the name Aisling?” I ask Mom’s belly and get another kick.
“She likes it,” mom says. “I like it too, and it’s a great idea to name her after your grandma. Did you know this Irish name means ‘hopeful dream’?”
I stroke the same spot, lean over, and whisper, “I love you, Aisling.”
I didn’t know then that this name would be my prayer. And my curse.
My sister was born on April 22. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. When her little fingers clasp mine, it feels like she’s holding my heart. My legs buckle when she smiles.
Even before she was born, I loved her, but when I see her for the first time, I know she’s my person in this world. My number one.
We spend a few days in the hospital. Mom, Aisling, and me.
At first, the doctor doesn’t want to let me stay with them.
So, Mom asks me to get some water from the machine in the hallway, and when I return to her room, the doctor no longer objects to my presence.
How did Mom convince him? I have no idea, but we’re together.
On the second day after Aisling’s birth, I ask when my father will come to meet my little sister. Mom makes a face that I don’t understand and only says that Dad has some important business to attend to.
I can hardly think of anything more significant than my little sister being born. However, it’s not so bad that he’s not with us.
When the three of us come home and discover him there, it confirms this feeling.