Читать книгу Like Wings, Your Hands - Elizabeth Earley - Страница 10

Kalina sat in the office of the shrink. She couldn’t believe she had actually shown up this time. The shrink, clad in gray tights and a form-fitting skirt, came out through the plain white door and welcomed her in. The room was furnished from Ikea. Kali knew this because she loved IKEA. It was her favorite thing about America, even though it was from Sweden.

The shrink was not ugly and not pretty. Perfect for a shrink, Kali thought. She sat on a simple green loveseat couch unadorned with pillows, across from the shrink. The shrink asked Kali about when she came to America, so Kali told her about how she didn’t have money back home in Bulgaria, and how she got a job at the American Embassy taking care of military children. She learned about rice crisps and milk in a carton. One family adopted her as a nanny. When the mother’s sister had newborn twins, they sent her to the U.S. to help take care of them. January, 1999.

She landed in New York City. The age she had on her ID was 23. She felt nine.

The dumpy hotel she stayed in had a view of a brick wall. She marveled at the city surrounding that brick wall, vibrating with life and stinking of piss.

She lived in Swampscott and took care of the twin babies.

She stayed for eighteen months until she went to school. She received a scholarship for being foreign and smart and got a degree in psychoanalysis.

She got a job and made two hundred dollars per week.

In school, she met her ex-husband. They had similar values. Children, society, family, money. They were married when she was 26. He was 24. She got her papers.

She had an abortion after the first pregnancy and that destroyed the marriage. The second pregnancy was an attempt to save it. She didn’t show up for her 20-week ultrasound because she thought she was on top of the world. She gave birth on December 12^th.

She remembered the midwife looking between her legs with a look on her face like she had just watched a car wreck. The midwife wouldn’t look at Kali. It was early in the morning. The baby was taken away from her. It felt like hours they were gone. She was left alone in the room. She delivered the placenta and lay there. Finally, she got up, even though she wasn’t supposed to. She had to find her baby and hold him. She made it to the hall and saw five people in white coats coming toward her. As soon as they approached, her legs collapsed. She fell against the wall and slid down to the floor. She stayed on the floor while they told her everything that was wrong. It wasn’t just one thing. It was five or six things.

Major spinal, brain, and heart surgery. Because of all the surgery and recovery, the baby had to be on morphine for six straight weeks and developed an addiction. He was then on methadone for morphine withdrawal symptoms. The shrink listened patiently. Kali stopped talking. The shrink blinked her eyes. Her brown hair, cropped short to chin length, moved slightly. Otherwise, the shrink was very still.