Aphasiac

Chapter Three

Charleston, South Carolina
November 2, 1996

The city streets were blanketed in a thin layer of slush. It was cold. A passing pedestrian splashed through a puddle. She wiped the filthy water from her face with a gloved hand. Her thumb stuck through the thinning material. She pulled the jacket tighter around her skinny figure. She could feel her ribs through the coat. It had been a good purchase. $2.50 at the Goodwill on Maybank. All the money she had in the world.

There was snow in the air. Very unusual in November. It seemed lazy, the way it floated down. Each snowflake is unique. Just like a fingerprint. Each snowflake is like no other. Kindergarten knowledge didn't do her a lot of good out here. It certainly didn't make her feel any warmer. Warmth was what she needed. That was all.

People continued to rush by her.

People continued to rush by her and ignore her. She couldn't blame them, really. She had been the same way. Before. Ignoring or pretending the pathetic lump in the alley didn't exist. As easy as changing the channel when a colored boy with a swollen stomach fills the screen and some distant, pleading voice, begs for money. How can you turn away when hundreds are dying of hunger and disease? Can you look into these eyes and say that twenty-eight cents a day is too much to pay to save someone's life?

That's what her stepfather used to do when he wasn't beating her. Watch TV. Those commercials got him mad. He never changed the channel just swore at the dumb goon who spoke off camera. "Friggin' people always askin' fer more money," or, "What'd'ya think I am, Mother friggin' Theresa?" He might throw something then. Maybe some of those Cheesies that usually littered his over-grown stomach. He'd throw them at the television set and then tell her to clean them up. "And get me a beer while you're at it. A cold one." Never once a please or thank-you. That had been life before she left. Funny how one choice could wipe out her entire existence. No one saw her anymore. They looked right through her. Deaf to her timid pleas. She had been reduced to the level of a stray dog, though in her experience it seemed the dog fared better, getting bits of sandwiches and pats on the head from passing children. She was an unfortunate burden on the town, garbage they couldn't legally dispose of, completely nonexistent now that she had made it clear to every John in the city that she was not for sale.

She shoved her hands deep inside her new (old) jacket. This was better than it had been at home. Here she could just be. She could just live. She might starve, she might freeze, but she wouldn't have to listen to his voice or smell his disgusting breath or feel his fists in her face. This was definitely better. No contest.

She was writing in the slush with a stick she had found. It was a good stick. She had found it her first night away from home. Her security blanket. Her only reassurance if anyone tried anything on her. She was writing her name. She liked to do this because it reminded her that she was still alive regardless of what the world thought. Megan. M. E. G. A. N. She spelled it out loud and in the slush. Such a pretty name. She didn't write her last name because she had decided to forget it. She wanted no connection to that fat man on the sofa in her mother's living room.

The snow was coming down heavier now. If it was still on the ground tomorrow the town might shut down. They did that. Snow was so rare that no one knew how to survive in it. Drivers panicked. South Carolinian's were strange.

"Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?"

The voice had come out of nowhere and interrupted her thoughts. A man was standing at the mouth of the alley. He was just a silhouette holding a steaming Styrofoam cup.

Of course she would like some coffee. She craved the warmth. Longed for it. Needed it like oxygen.

He was kneeling now, holding out the cup, eyes probing the dirt to find her face beneath it.

She took the cup from his hands and held it underneath her nose. His eyes were nice. Chocolate. Like his face. And very warm. Hot chocolate. She almost giggled out loud.

He stood but never took those eyes off her. He had on one of those terrible Russian-style hunting caps. The kind with the earmuffs built right in. Ugly but warm. He took it off and pushed it down over her greasy tangles.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

He was already leaving the alley. He turned and gave a quick wave and a quick smile then covered his ears with gloved hands and disappeared into the street.

Megan smiled into the steam that crept around her face. She wondered if he had wings hidden somewhere beneath that long coat.

She drank the coffee, savored the heat, squished the hat down farther on her head and felt a little twinge of joy because surly she had just been visited by her very own guardian angel.

Three Rivers OB/GYN Associates PA/Baptist Medical Center
Harbison Boulevard
Columbia, South Carolina
November 4, 1996

Paula drummed her fingers nervously against the arm of her chair. Her nails clicked on the wood, a slight annoyance in the stillness. She'd let them get too long. Maybe David would treat her to a manicure now that they had reason to celebrate.

The small consultation room was nice. Simple. Neutral colors. Framed certificates lining the walls. Paula was restless in her seat, waiting for Dr. Willis to come and talk with her. Paula had never been to Dr. Willis before. She and David had decided to come to him, a gynecologist specializing in prenatal care, instead of their normal doctor. He was nice, with huge shoulders, intimidating to someone who didn't know him. Paula had just finished holding her breath through the humiliating breast and pelvic exam. The relief she felt now that it was over and she was out of that terrible paper gown was huge.

The door opened and Dr. Willis took his seat across from her, behind his desk—neat and tidy like the rest of the room. He smiled at her, understanding her discomfort. He dealt with this every day.
He tapped his pen against the table. "Everything looks great, Paula," he said.

She felt herself relax.

"You're in wonderful condition. Everything is looking normal. From what I can see, you're probably almost two months pregnant. We'll schedule an appointment for every month. If you have any problems or concerns, come and see me immediately. We want this baby to be perfect."

Paula left the building, relieved to be away, ecstatic that her baby was fine.