Mary E. Montoro

She sat perfectly still when they told her Little One, her daughter, died. Baby Girl didn’t move, say a word or even blink when the cop told her they found the 14-year old’s body lying in a ditch. Little One’s been there for a month. A couple of girls found her when they were out jogging. The Aryan-looking officer with the ocean blue eyes showed Baby Girl a photo. Little One looked comfortable into the fetal position caked in mud. Her blond hair was the only glimmer of light visible. Baby Girl stared at the picture. She traced the outline of Little One’s body with her index finger. Still no tears. The officer was amazed at what he saw. This 5’8’’, caramel skinned, full figured woman didn’t cry, yell or simply go insane about her daughter’s death.

Maybe she’s holding it in until she gets home, Officer Aryan thought. Baby Girl couldn’t cry. She just learned how to feel and express happiness and that was strange enough. Baby Girl had her emotion gene removed. From age 10 until adulthood, Baby Girl knew nothing but sadness or heartache with minimal drops of glory and happiness. She never knew her pops. She doubted her mom, Lonely One, did. Baby Girl was passed around her “uncles” laps as her watched. Well, when your arm is deep in heroine, everything gets blurred. Each one having their way, until she was 16 and Baby Girl left. She remembered one day Lonely One asked her brother-in-law to baby-sit so she can go to the market.

When she returned, Baby Girl wept frantically. Lonely One saw her brother-in-law adjust his shirt inside his pants. Lonely One attacked him. She left deep bloody scratch marks on his dark face, shoulders and arms. He grabbed her wrists and told her to chill. Lonely One still fought, getting blind by her hot tears. Brother-in-law pushed and walked away.

“What did you think would happen? Don’t act all surprised and clean cuz you ain’t.”

He stormed off leaving two women alone in the dark. An hour later, Lonely One took Baby Girl to Dr. Newlife. A special kind of doctor who deals with the emotional side of the human spirit. Or, lack thereof. Lonely One read somewhere about Dr. Newlife is able to remove the emotional gene, or emo, of the soul in people who have severe emotional trauma. This surgery is free to the community for low income individuals, since they are most likely to suffer from personal turmoil. Lonely One thought this would save Baby Girl. It was too late for her but Baby Girl has a chance. Luckily there was an opening and they went to see Dr. Newlife. After filling out the paperwork, Baby Girl was in surgery for 3 hours and her gene was successfully removed. She was 14. The doctor explained that Baby Girl will need rest for two weeks. The nurse gave her a prescription and they went home the next day. Baby Girl never saw her mother again. She met a good-looking and slick-talking musician, like there’s any other kind, and became a mother at 18. So young and naïve.

Baby Girl was unable to feel sorrow, fear or pain. She could, however, feel anger. This wasn’t difficult considering all the horror she went through with her mother. One day, the women had it out and it became physical. Baby Girl lifted her mother off the ground by the throat. The brother-in-law grabbed Baby Girl from the back but the 21-year old was too damn strong. She punched him in the belly and he fell back. Baby Girl made a mental note to finish him later. She felt her mother prying off from the tight grip but to no use. Lonely One turned blue and the veins on her forehead became enlarged. Baby Girl was very close in killing her until she felt something familiar, yet alien. A soft touch caressing her cheek. It felt warm, inviting and strange. Baby Girl never knew what kindness was until her aunt Corazón gave her a sample. How was it possible to be on earth for 21 years and not know kindness? She turned around slowly, not giving up the smoothness of her aunt’s touch. Baby Girl gushed.

“Your mother tried to spare you from the hell she and I get went though. I don’t agree what she did but that doesn’t matter now,” Corazón said. “Other than anger, pain and sorrow, you are unable to feel happiness. The women in our family are cursed with this tragedy. I guess Lonely One was trying to relieve you of the misery. But, Baby Girl you still respond to the human touch which is so important for the spirit. Without that, you would be truly lost.”

Corazón’s words rang loudly in Baby Girl’s ears as she stared at her daughter’s photograph. Her baby was so young. So beautiful. So damn free. She won’t have to endure pain, misfortune or do penance for her mother’s crime. No Little One is spared all that nonsense. But Baby Girl envied her daughter’s capability to feel. The bad along with the good. She was able to experience it all and tell about it. That’s why she didn’t put Little One through that horrific surgery. She wanted what her moms denied her. She wanted to see Little One’s facial expressions and body movements demonstrate those feelings. What it felt like when she won a scholarship to Spelman College to bawling hysterically when she caught her man cheating on her with a light-skinned, long weave wearing heifer.

“She got a better deal,” Baby Girl thought. “I can’t even mourn my daughter’s death. What kind of mother am I?” she softly aloud. The Aryan jotted down some notes.

She’s in shock, Baby Girl imagined him thinking, and that’s why she isn’t responding.

“If only he knew,” she said silently.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said shutting the door behind him. She exhaled years of build up tension in one smooth breath. Still no tears for Little One. Baby Girl was so focused on the picture she didn’t notice a cool breeze coming through on a very hot July day in Los Angeles. She didn’t feel the breeze go up her leg making her Dolce & Gabbana form fitted skirt rise, like the way Marilyn Monroe’s dress did in that infamous pose. She didn’t notice that same breeze continuing upward, giving comfort to her chest, cheeks, eyes and lying coolly on her forehead. The remnants allowed a few whispers to blow through her dark hair. It wasn’t until Corazón spoke that Baby Girl noticed her aunt. She touched her niece’s cheek, the same spot she stroked many years ago. It still worked. Almost instantaneously, Baby Girl wailed. Her yell shook the room, the walls, the ground and the two of them. So much pain and agony gone after so many years. She vomited pain and agony until the very last drop dangled. This time, when Baby Girl saw Little One’s picture she was able to mourn her daughter properly. She pressed the picture against her heart and for two seconds exactly, she felt Little One’s despair. Her last few moments on earth. Before Little One’s death. Before her mother Baby Girl killed her. Slit her throat actually. Baby Girl learned that from Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved when Sethe killed her child to avoid slavery, like runaway slave Margaret Garner who Sethe is based upon. Some call it infanticide or murder. But Baby Girl saw it as salvation. She found out a few months ago that Little One would grow up incapable of feeling compassion. The father’s emo gene was faulty and Baby Girl didn’t have one. So together, they created a child with and on and off switch for feelings. It could happen. It could not. This way Little One would’ve to endure anymore distress. She thought she was doing her daughter a favor. Now she wasn’t sure. All she tried to do was spare Little One. Now, it seems selfish. Little One won’t be a wife or a career woman or a stay-at-home mom. These choices are gone.
“Was this how slave Margaret felt? Did she question what she did like I am right now?” Baby Girl thought.

She had more questions than answers. She felt a lone tear run down. An actual tear. She didn’t dare wipe it away for fear another one won’t follow. But it did. And another. And another. She looked up and saw Corazón, Lonely One and Little One. All three wore flowing white satin dresses with lace trim. A ray of light shined behind them. Baby Girl felt their love go through her heavy body. Suddenly, she felt lighter.

“You have a second chance Baby Girl. Make the best of it,” said Lonely One.

It was the last thing Baby Girl remembered before collapsing. When she awoke, two days later, she was in hospital room. The nurse next to her bed asked if she knew where she was. Baby Girl shook her head.

“You’re in the hospital,” the nurse replied.
“Who’s sick?”

The nurse laughed and explained that Baby Girl was found by a neighbor inside her apartment who had a spare key and let herself in.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 26th, 2017 at 3:45 pm and is filed under Creativity. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.