Ashes

The rain kept up. Day after day after day it kept up. I stayed in my room. Della brought in my meals. Alan finished the rototilling and went to the nursery for seeds. He came to show me what vegetbles he'd chosen to plant and shook a handful of seeds on to his palm.

"Look, Kit, absolutely perfect. I'll plant the leafy stuff now .lettuce, spinach, cabbage, and I'll pollinate=by hand. In spring I'll plant squash, tomatoes and -"

"I don't care what you plant! I'm sick. Don't you know I'm sick? You killed Mom. You took her from me. She gave meaning to my life."

"Kit, I didn't kill -"

"Now I'm back to the start. The nightmares ." I stroked my forehead. "You don't know my nightmares."

"That's because you've shut yourself up in this room. Why don't you get out there and start living? Della's just a kid. She needs you, Kit."

"What about me? Don't I need someone?"

"Yes, that little eleven year-old. She lost a mother. You lost a son. You could give each other so much."

"My son was white."

"If Mom had been black would you have cared for her?"

My eyes ached with those hateful tears. They lodged there like rocks, pushing against my eyeballs, yet still refusing to fall. I tried to picture Mom with a black face. I saw her only as she haunted me, peaceful and smiling while I read that stupid Bible to her. I had loved her so much that day . her color would have been negligible. But to compare her face with Della's black one, to suggest Della could ever take my son's place . Sweet Jesus, no child but my own could take Mark's place.

Alan's eyes turned to steel. He clenched his fist and shook the seeds in his palm, as if debating whether to fling them at me. He left the room.

I stood and watched rain pelt the patio. A monstrous idea crept into my head. It
Started to grow.
No child but my own. My own..

*********

February sixteenth. Mark's birthday. The idea obsessed me completely now. I could think of nothing else. I would call him Mark. He would have my black hair, my pale skin, my dark eyes, my long body.

And I . I would have my son.

Della entered with a dinner tray. I told her to send Alan in. He responded to my request almost two hours later. It was the first time I'd seen him since he showed me the seeds. He said he and Della had been watching Gone with the wind. What did I want?

I didn't hedge. "I want you to get me pregnant."

"What?"

"I need someone to love."

His mouth curled with contempt. "As long as the kid's white, huh? You effing snob!"

"Don't you use that word to me."

A cynical look darkened his eyes. The look turned to desire. He reached past me as if to switch off the lamp on the night table, but changed his mind and left it on. He slipped a hand inside my robe and cupped a breast

"No foreplay!" I screeched, backing away. "I don't want any foreplay. Just - just do it!"

"You bitch," he said, reaching toward me as I continued to back away. "You bitch," he said again, and I knew by his trembling voice ...