As if in a daze, Hannah looked around at the various faces surrounding her.
Her mother's face was full of disappointment and sadness. Her father's was
angry, red, as if he were going to explode. He was yelling at her but
through the haze she only saw the lips moving, no sound came out. Her
sister, Julia, glared at her with the hatred and fire of a thousand suns.
It wasn't Hannah's fault that their mother had found out about her
predicament just a week before Julia's wedding. She'd tried to hide it as
long as she could but each day it grew more and more difficult. Maybe they
wouldn't notice that she was getting fatter and fatter. Maybe they wouldn't
notice the constant green tint to her skin from being nauseous every day.
How could she have been so stupid? Of course her mother, of all people,
would figure it out! She just hadn't expected it so soon, especially not
before Julia's wedding.
"How could you!?" Julia had cried. "God, Hannah! Of all the things to do and of all the times to do it! What will my friends think? What will Richard think?" Richard was the name of Julia's fiancée, a Harvard graduate and just as stuck-up and snobby as Julia. A perfect match, Hannah thought.
"It's okay, dear," their mother soothed. "Everything will go as planned. No one will know."
"Of course they will!" sobbed Julia. "She'll be as fat as a cow! How can they not notice?!"
"The wedding's in a week, dear. Hannah won't be able to get that fat in only a week."
"I hate her! She would do something like this! She would! I knew that if something could ruin my day Hannah would think of it!"
"I didn't plan to have a baby, Julia, nor did I purposely try to ruin your wedding," Hannah interjected.
"Exactly! You don't plan, you just do! If you would only stop and think, you wouldn't get in all those messes you seem to find yourself in! Oh God, my sister's a hussy! Oh, God! Mama! She'll disgrace us all!"
Those words still rang in Hannah's ears as she tried to listen to what her father was saying. Probably the same thing, only louder.
"Hannah? Hannah! Are you listening to me?" her father's voice broke in.
"Yes, Papa," she sighed. She wished he would just stop yelling so she could go back to her room and think of ways to get out of this.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, Papa, and I'll never ever do it again," she singsonged tiredly. She was beginning to feel nauseous again.
The slap caught her unexpectedly. Wincing, Hannah touched her cheek, willing the tears not to come.
"YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!" her father roared. "This is exactly the kind of behavior I would expect from a hussy on the streets."
Hussy, that word again. Why did everyone keep using it? It was a one time only event and it wasn't even really her fault. Peter had talked her into it; more like he had forced her into it, but she didn't like to think about that night. Now Peter was gone. God knew where. He'd left without saying anything, just like he had come.
The tears came despite her best efforts as her father once again railed her, calling her a slut (which made her mother wince) and a whore and, of course, a hussy. It seemed to be the word of choice in the house. Hannah looked around again. Her mother, if it was possible seemed even paler and disappointed than before. Julia still glared and her father turned redder and redder.
"Hannah," Julia said softly so only Hannah could hear. "You really are the greatest disappointment to this family."
"Stop it!" Hannah screamed. "Stop it, all of you! Stop it!"
Her parents looked over, stunned. Julia smiled smugly.
"Hannah--" her mother started.
But Hannah had made up her mind. She turned and ran from the room, down the hall, and out the front door, leaving it swinging open in the spring breeze.
"Hannah!" her mother called. "Hannah! Come back!"
"Don't worry, Dorothy," her father said, putting his hand on her mother's shoulder. "She's got no place to go."
******
Tears flowed down Hannah's cheeks as she ran. She didn't care if anyone saw her. She only wanted to get out of there. Out of that section of town forever. Her auburn hair began falling out of its tight up-do and cascaded down her shoulders in waves. Turning the corner, she almost ran into a woman pushing a baby carriage. Mrs. Gibson from next door, Hannah noted. Without saying anything, Hannah pushed past and continued on her path.
"Well, I never!" Mrs. Gibson sputtered.
Where she was going, Hannah didn't know, nor did she care. She only knew she needed to get as far away as possible.
******
The sun was setting when Hannah finally stopped. Although she'd quit running hours ago, she had continued to press on, walking quickly. Now she looked around her in the dimming light. Buildings surrounded her. Women in the windows called to each other in a language she'd never heard. Horse drawn carts clip-clopped down a street littered with debris from the day. A small child ran into the street. He looked up at her and, for a moment, their eyes locked. Then a voice called and he turned away and ran into a building.
"Supper," Hannah thought, her stomach growling suddenly. She hadn't realized how hungry all the traveling had made her. Instinctively, she reached for her purse only to find that she hadn't one. In her haste to leave the house she had forgotten money. "How typical," she thought. She couldn't go home now, though. She couldn't face her family and she wasn't even all that sure which way home was.
"I suppose one night without supper won't kill me," she thought to herself.
A wave of nausea swept over her suddenly, crippling her.
"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, doubling over. "No, not here. I won't vomit here. Not in front of all these people." She thought of the people in their tenements, staring at her from their windows.
"I've got to get out of here!" she cried, turning to run. An alley to her left caught her eye and she veered into it. In a corner, a pile of boxes and rags beckoned to her.
"I…just…need…to…rest…for…a …bit," she told herself, adjusting the boxes so she could lay behind them, hidden from view. She curled up in the fetal position and covered herself with the rags. "Just a few minutes rest…." She thought, closing her heavy eyes.
"How could you!?" Julia had cried. "God, Hannah! Of all the things to do and of all the times to do it! What will my friends think? What will Richard think?" Richard was the name of Julia's fiancée, a Harvard graduate and just as stuck-up and snobby as Julia. A perfect match, Hannah thought.
"It's okay, dear," their mother soothed. "Everything will go as planned. No one will know."
"Of course they will!" sobbed Julia. "She'll be as fat as a cow! How can they not notice?!"
"The wedding's in a week, dear. Hannah won't be able to get that fat in only a week."
"I hate her! She would do something like this! She would! I knew that if something could ruin my day Hannah would think of it!"
"I didn't plan to have a baby, Julia, nor did I purposely try to ruin your wedding," Hannah interjected.
"Exactly! You don't plan, you just do! If you would only stop and think, you wouldn't get in all those messes you seem to find yourself in! Oh God, my sister's a hussy! Oh, God! Mama! She'll disgrace us all!"
Those words still rang in Hannah's ears as she tried to listen to what her father was saying. Probably the same thing, only louder.
"Hannah? Hannah! Are you listening to me?" her father's voice broke in.
"Yes, Papa," she sighed. She wished he would just stop yelling so she could go back to her room and think of ways to get out of this.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, Papa, and I'll never ever do it again," she singsonged tiredly. She was beginning to feel nauseous again.
The slap caught her unexpectedly. Wincing, Hannah touched her cheek, willing the tears not to come.
"YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!" her father roared. "This is exactly the kind of behavior I would expect from a hussy on the streets."
Hussy, that word again. Why did everyone keep using it? It was a one time only event and it wasn't even really her fault. Peter had talked her into it; more like he had forced her into it, but she didn't like to think about that night. Now Peter was gone. God knew where. He'd left without saying anything, just like he had come.
The tears came despite her best efforts as her father once again railed her, calling her a slut (which made her mother wince) and a whore and, of course, a hussy. It seemed to be the word of choice in the house. Hannah looked around again. Her mother, if it was possible seemed even paler and disappointed than before. Julia still glared and her father turned redder and redder.
"Hannah," Julia said softly so only Hannah could hear. "You really are the greatest disappointment to this family."
"Stop it!" Hannah screamed. "Stop it, all of you! Stop it!"
Her parents looked over, stunned. Julia smiled smugly.
"Hannah--" her mother started.
But Hannah had made up her mind. She turned and ran from the room, down the hall, and out the front door, leaving it swinging open in the spring breeze.
"Hannah!" her mother called. "Hannah! Come back!"
"Don't worry, Dorothy," her father said, putting his hand on her mother's shoulder. "She's got no place to go."
******
Tears flowed down Hannah's cheeks as she ran. She didn't care if anyone saw her. She only wanted to get out of there. Out of that section of town forever. Her auburn hair began falling out of its tight up-do and cascaded down her shoulders in waves. Turning the corner, she almost ran into a woman pushing a baby carriage. Mrs. Gibson from next door, Hannah noted. Without saying anything, Hannah pushed past and continued on her path.
"Well, I never!" Mrs. Gibson sputtered.
Where she was going, Hannah didn't know, nor did she care. She only knew she needed to get as far away as possible.
******
The sun was setting when Hannah finally stopped. Although she'd quit running hours ago, she had continued to press on, walking quickly. Now she looked around her in the dimming light. Buildings surrounded her. Women in the windows called to each other in a language she'd never heard. Horse drawn carts clip-clopped down a street littered with debris from the day. A small child ran into the street. He looked up at her and, for a moment, their eyes locked. Then a voice called and he turned away and ran into a building.
"Supper," Hannah thought, her stomach growling suddenly. She hadn't realized how hungry all the traveling had made her. Instinctively, she reached for her purse only to find that she hadn't one. In her haste to leave the house she had forgotten money. "How typical," she thought. She couldn't go home now, though. She couldn't face her family and she wasn't even all that sure which way home was.
"I suppose one night without supper won't kill me," she thought to herself.
A wave of nausea swept over her suddenly, crippling her.
"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, doubling over. "No, not here. I won't vomit here. Not in front of all these people." She thought of the people in their tenements, staring at her from their windows.
"I've got to get out of here!" she cried, turning to run. An alley to her left caught her eye and she veered into it. In a corner, a pile of boxes and rags beckoned to her.
"I…just…need…to…rest…for…a …bit," she told herself, adjusting the boxes so she could lay behind them, hidden from view. She curled up in the fetal position and covered herself with the rags. "Just a few minutes rest…." She thought, closing her heavy eyes.