Page 87 of Fallen

The Willowdell Motel was a trashy old place that had been sitting on an unsightly slice of land for as long as Rachael could remember. For weeks now, she’d debated where she would go. She’d thought about the abandoned Hemmelgarn place down by Dogleg Road. The old barn out on Township Road 1442. At one point, she’d even considered going to the midwife in Coshocton. In the end, she’d decided on the motel, where there was a bed and towels and a shower.

Lying in the back seat of the buggy, Rachael rode out another cramp while Loretta went inside and paid for a room. Rachael had given the money to her a week ago, after she’d made the decision to do it here.

“Room 9.”

Rachael looked up from her misery and watched her friend climb into the buggy. “Park in the back,” she said. “Where no one can see the buggy. Hurry.”

The room was furnished with a single bed draped with a blue coverlet. A window covered with ill-fitting curtains squatted over a metal air conditioner that blew air reeking of mildew and rattled like a train. While Loretta tethered the horse, Rachael went inside, dropped her overnight bag on the chair next to the bed, and went to the bathroom.

Fear and a terrible sense of disbelief roiled inside her as she stripped off her clothes. Bare feet on a broken tile floor. A smear of blood on her leg. A bright red drop of it on the tile next to her toes. Fear pulsing in a body that was no longer hers. A body she didn’t recognize or understand. Pain so frightening she could do nothing but sob as she stepped into the tub. She soaped up, not caring that her hair got wet. Twice she went to her knees. Not to pray, but to ease the pain.

Still damp, she crawled into the bed, pulled the sheet and coverlet over her. She barely noticed when Loretta came in. But she saw the uncertainty on her friend’s face as she took the chair next to the bed. “I brought Tylenol.”

Rachael knew it wouldn’t help. Nothing would help. She didn’t even care at this point. “Give them to me. Hurry.”

Quickly, Loretta went to the bathroom and filled a plastic glass with tap water. Next to the bed, she tapped out four acetaminophen tablets and handed them to her.

Rachael snatched them up, tossed all four into her mouth, and swallowed them with a gulp of water. She’d never been prone to tears; not like some girls. She was tougher than that. But at some point, she’d begun to cry again. The helpless, whimpering sobs of a dying animal.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she cried.

“Yes, you can. Women do it all the time.”

Agony ripped at her insides, turning her inside out. Nausea seesawed in her gut and for a moment she thought she might throw up. “I have to…” Rachael bit down on the word, grinding her teeth. “Use the bathroom.”

“No, you don’t,” Loretta said. “It’s just the baby telling you he’s ready to come into the world.”

Rachael fisted the sheets, turning left and right, trying to find a position that would ease the pain. Angry now because nothing helped. “I don’t know how to do this! I don’t—” A wail squeezed from her throat. “I have to…”

“Shhh! Quiet!”

Rachael squeezed her eyes closed, brought the pillow to her face and screamed. “It hurts!”

Straightening, Loretta rushed to the bathroom and returned with two face cloths. A damp one, which she placed on Rachael’s forehead. A dry one, which she rolled up and handed it to her. “Bite down on this when the pain is too much,” she whispered.

Rachael grabbed her friend’s hand, squeezed it hard. Before she could say anything, the pain gripped her. Writhing, she fumbled with the cloth, jammed it into her mouth, and bit down as hard as she could. She rode the wave that way, biting down so hard she thought she might shatter her teeth.

The urge to push overrode her fear that she would mess the bed. She bore down hard, felt her insides cramp and tear. She screamed into the towel, pulled it hard against her lower molars. Body wet with sweat. Hair still damp from her shower.

This time, the cramp didn’t subside. It came and came and came until she couldn’t breathe. Thought she would pass out. Or die. She bore down again, grunting, the ugly sounds of a mindless beast. She opened her legs, spread them wide, not caring about modesty or the sheets or anything else. All she knew was that she wanted this thing out of her. She wanted the pain to stop. She wanted to be done with it.

She pushed against the pressure with all of her might. At some point, she looked at her friend, saw her pale face suffused with horror and fascination. Before she could speak or think, another riot of pain ripped through her.

She grabbed her knees, pulled them to her shoulders. She wanted to sit up, but couldn’t. Another cramp rolled through her, movement in her abdomen. Pressure low and building. An elongated scream tore from her throat as she pushed. She bore down hard, unable to catch her breath, and the room spun. She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, held it as she tried desperately to force it from her body.

A tearing sensation between her legs. Lessening pressure, like bowels breaking free.

“I see the top of his head!” Squealing, Loretta took her hand. “It’s coming out! Go ahead and push!”

Lying on her back, she gripped both knees, curling upward with the effort. Sounds she didn’t recognize tearing from her throat. Everything else falling away.

Loretta moved to the foot of the bed. Bent over her, looking at her. “Keep going!” she said. “Push. You can do it. Push!”

Rachael closed her eyes and bore down. The sensation of tearing. The knowledge that her body would never be the same.

“Oh! Oh! It’s a girl!”

Rachael caught a glimpse of her friend’s face. Eyes wide and excited and filled with awe.