Third Place Short Story

Breaking Molds
by
Tina Fowler

I've been waiting here for over four hours now, hunkered by the closed door.  Like black crows flying back to peck a dead cow in the field, the Sisters of Mercy flutter in and out.  They glance at me as if to say I am the cause of all the pain and I reckon I am, seeing as how I'm the daddy of the baby being birthed behind the door.

            Sissy's pains began early this morning and I wanted to go fetch Granny Gibson.  She had caught most of the babies born in this holler and had a passel of them named after her by beholden parents.  Some of them didn't make it- sometimes the baby, sometimes the mama, sometimes both.  "God's will", she said.  Sissy wouldn't have it.  Said she wanted to come here to the mission hospital where it was clean and modern.  Granny Gibson snorted and said none of them women had known a man, much less birthed babies themselves.  Said all the Gibsons were born in the bed where they were conceived.  Maybe that's where we broke the mold that day in the hayloft nine months ago. 

            Sissy's pa came calling two months later.  My pa asked me if I was ready to do right by Sissy and I said yes.  I'm sixteen and a man who is responsible for what he sows.   We stood before the preacher that Sunday at church and he married us proper.  Sissy's given name is Rebecca, but has always been called Sissy by her six older brothers and four older sisters.  So the preacher says, "Do you Robert Gibson take Rebecca?" and I wanted to tell him I was marryin' Sissy and then remembered her name. Guess I was kinda nervous that day. 

I'm the only one in my family.  Something broke in ma when I was born and no more babies came. Ma has a sadness she never got over.  Sometimes I feel bad about that, like I was the cause.  Puts a right smart responsibility on a body being the only one to help with the plowing, stock, and other chores.

            Still, pa thought he should send me to lessons at the Mission School when the Sisters first came to the holler. They had told him the world was a changing place and a man who couldn't read or cipher would be disadvantaged.  I could ride the mule and be there in a half hour. I made it to the sixth level and somehow learned my letters and how to tally sums.  Didn't see much mercy in the Sister who taught there.  My knuckles still look swelled from the pointer stick she wielded.

            Lord knows I hate that Sissy suffers now.  Sometimes she screams my name and I want to ram through that door.  Sometimes she moans low and I want to run to the laurels where I would go cry as a boy after a whippin'.  I roll a smoke and step outside for some air.   

            Looking out at the mountains, I'm thinking about how I'll be taking my boy hunting one day the way my pa did me.  I'll show him the secret places the fish swarm thick in the water.  I'll teach him how to fell a tree and build a cabin.  There are so many things that a father must pass on to a son.

Sissy's ma comes hurrying up the path to the hospital and greets me.  "I just heard Sissy's time's come.  How's she getting along?"

I tell her I only know it's been five hours now and I've just been told to wait.  I walk back in the hospital as the Sisters sweep Sissy's ma right into the room.  I'm glad she is here to help Sissy get through this birthing.  When Sissy and me first married, she helped us round up plunder for the cabin we built in the poplar grove behind the backfield on pa's land.  She sent Sissy's brothers to help with the log raisin' and got the women to spread a meal on the ground to feed those who helped.  She never said a word about the baby being born seven months after the wedding.  I suppose that with all those younguns she's raised, she's learned that you put your worry and hate in places that serve a purpose other than to just make another body miserable.  Sissy took after her in temper and looks, although ma-Mullin's hair is streaked with white now and she's grown heavy from childbearing.  Sissy is slight with green eyes and chestnut hair.  I always thought Sissy was the prettiest girl in the holler, even before we started courting.  She says I'm a long drink of water as I stand a full foot taller and have strong arms and back from working the farm.  I was mighty pleased to find my little gal is a thirsty one.  The Sisters taught us that fornication was sin and would cast us in hell's flames.  But I only find heaven in Sissy's arms, even in the months that she was swelled with the baby growing big.

Voices in the room are shouting orders now.  A Sister passes by me with a stack of white towels and I clear my throat to ask questions. With a flicker of pity in her crow eyes, she says it won't be much longer.  The baby has turned and is ready to be birthed.

"Push, push", I hear ma-Mullins urge.  Other voices are echoing the same encouragement. 

I hear Sissy growl like an animal and say, "I'm tired, I can't do this."  More growls follow that sound like death more than birth. "I'm surely gonna die, ma", she pants.  "This baby is gonna kill me."

I'm on my knees with my hands lifted to the Almighty in a desperate plea.  I've never been a praying man, but here I am making bargains and striking deals.  Just let Sissy live.  I'll never touch her again, if that's what you're mad about.  Don't take her, I'm beggin'.  She's a good woman, just high in spirits.  Please God, if we sinned, put the sinnin' on me.  

And then a high mewl.  A new voice is in the room.  I'm dancing outside the door about to bust with curiosity. I hear Sissy laugh and remember my prayer. Thank you Jesus! Amen.   A few minutes later, the door opens and I'm allowed to come inside this womb of womanhood that has been closed to me while I waited.  Sissy is propped up with pillows behind her back.  Her chestnut hair is wet with sweat and her face is pale from effort.  "Come meet your daughter", she says.

I feel shy for the first time around Sissy.  She's been changed into someone I don't know in the past hours.  She's a mother now - I'm almost afraid of the small bundle she holds out to me to take. 

"I might drop her.  I don't know how to hold her right."

"You're her daddy, Robert.  You got to hold her sometime."

My hands are shaking as I accept the bundle she holds out to me. I look into dark blue eyes and feel wonder and love for this life we have created.  I would not trade my life for any man's.