The pain of choice

                               Scarlet

There are many hard things I have witnessed in my life. Watched my mother die before my eyes. Seen our field slaves beat to a pulp because of a simple accident. Had to nurse my father back to sobriety after his daily nights at the saloon. Now as I see it, all that was easy compared to what I had to do next. 

Rain falls all around me, bringing on the comfort of invisibility. All living creatures are tucked away, under shelters where they are warm. But not me. I can feel the cold creep down my back and up my dress like icy fingers. Several times I almost slip on the slick mud, thanks to my thin flats that are not made for this weather. Just one more block to go, come on Scarlet. A dog howls madly somewhere in the distance, and I think I hear the train. Oh how amazing it would be to hop on that train and go anywhere, as long as it was away from here. My tiny bundle is held firmly against my breast, clothed in a spare cloth. I pull her closer, craving the heat she gives off. Yes, I am holding a baby, my baby. She moans a little in my arms, and I see a few icy droplets have landed on her rosy cheeks. I quickly cover her again, wanting to make her last moments with me comfortable. 

Too soon the light of the orphanage comes into view. A soft glow seeps out the windows, comforts me in my choice. I know Ms. Beatrix Elton personally, she runs the orphanage single handedly and is the definition of patient. Her first husband died a week after they married, so she married again and he died just days after, people thought she was cursed and forbade their sons to go anywhere near her. Wanting children so bad, she started the orphanage.

I creep up to the stone steps that are painted with little flowers that seem to have been done by a child's hand. There is a covering over the door which is perfect for Ava while she waits to be found. She’ll bring such joy to those children, the joy of watching her grow, seeing her first steps, teaching her how to speak and write. And I’ll watch from the distance, never truly knowing my daughter, maybe she’ll even be adopted by some rich noble family. If so, I hope they treat her like the angel she is. Tears prick my eyes and I let them come. Silently they fall, mixed with the rain. It seems unfair to not shed a tear for this small human who never deserved this, and never would. With one last squeeze I place Ava down, shielded from the rain. I can barely tell there's anything in the pink bundle she is so small, with her little strip of paper that has AVA written on it pind to her front. I know it is unfair for me to have named her, that should be done by the people who will raise her, but I couldn’t help it. One day I will find her, my sweet sweet girl, and we will have a home together with just the two of us, but I must wait in agony till this day comes. And I admit, I don’t truly believe I will find her when she is grown, I don’t think I could face telling her why I gave her up, but telling myself this makes it that much easier to walk away from her. And that is what I did.

                            Ava

    “Rise and shine sleeping beauty,” Ms.B’s voice sounds way to chipper for this early in the morning. “We got things to do and places to go, also it's a very special day,” I groaned as I threw a pillow over my head to keep out the light from the window she just opened. “5 more minutes,” I plead. Giving a dramatic sigh Ms.B replies, “well I guess your special  breakfast will just have to get cold then.” With those words I am out of bed, and half way in my day dress within seconds. Ms.B’s cheery voice echoes through the house, “that's what I thought, now how long have you been here exactly?” I smile, instantly knowing the answer, “15 years, today.” Ms.B doesn’t call it our birthday, unless you where born within these very walls and your Mama died in labor, or your Father dropped you off here after your mama died and told Ms.B your exact birth date then its your birthday. But for those of us who where dropped off here, birth date unknown, she calls it our “Orphanage anniversary.” Some of the kids are very bitter towards their known or unknown parents, and I don’t blame them, but I don’t hate mine. There is one girl here, Callie, who was dropped off when she was 11, because her parents thought she wasn’t pretty enough, while they where here they adopted Rachael who is a very attractive 13 year old in replacement to their real child. Whenever Rachael writes to us, Callie begins throwing up and stays in her bed all day. Ms.B says I fell right from heaven onto her lap, for years and years I believed it, till one of the older kids told me I was really just left out in the rain for her to find when she grabbed the mail the next morning.

   I take in my appearance in our grimy cracked mirror, my face is oval with black ringlet curls framing it. I have been called pretty, and beautiful and even mesmerizing. But never have I been complimented on my smarts, spirit, or beliefs. I am treated  like a lovely wall ornament that is thrown out the second it speaks its mind, which is probably why I have been adopted 6 times and returned. I don’t mind though, I enjoy the orphanage. 

   When Ms.B hands me 5 dollars and sends me out of the house to buy whatever pleases me, I am instantly ecstatic. 5 whole dollars is more money than I have held in my life. My mind skims over all the possibilities, all the lovely things I could entirely own. 

  On my way to town I slipped on a puddle of mud that was left from the rain last night. I curse my clumsy feet knowing I must return to the orphanage to change before I can go to the market. A swift wind rushes past me, tousling my ebony hair and letting the money slip through my fingers. Still on the ground I lunge for it, losing both shoes in the process. More wind picks up and it scatters down the street like late fall leaves. No no no you stupid girl, I think to myself knowing I must be a sight. Also in the back of my mind the words echo, from years of living in fine houses and discipline, this is not what a lady would do. I kick myself for thinking it, I do not care that society thinks of me, and I hope I never will.

   Still the money tumbles down the street like a grateful ballet dancer, which I had only seen once when Ms.B took me for my 12th Orphanage anniversary since I was obsessed with becoming America's next best dancer. The wind continues to blow, in one last burst of energy it is flung into the midst of a crowd. The money now lays limp in the dirt road. People are staring like I am a vial cockroach. Women have their hands to their breasts, big feathers swaying back and forth on their head as they look around to see if anyone else has noticed me. While the men in there long dark trench coats and top hats snarl in my direction. I can hear the crowd whispering, “isn’t that the Orphan girl the Ravens adopted last year?” “My isn’t she a mess,” “Who let her out of her cage,” they laugh, “I heard she spoke out at the winter ball about woman being equals to men. How silly.” I want to disappear completely, but instead I kneel in the mud, filthy and disgusting, casted aside by everyone who meets me, including my own family. A small woman pushes her way thru the crowd. There is no fancy hat on her head, no corset on her waist but you can see she is naturally skinny, and no lacy dress pooled at her feet. Her eyes are large, her mouth thin, and her hair blacker than mine. Calmly she walks towards me, cautiously she leans down, never taking her eyes off me. Her delicate hand plucks the sodden money from the dirt, and places it on my lap. “Honey I think you should go home, do you need me to walk you Ava?” Ava? How does she know my name? “Who are you? How do you know me?” The lady gapes at me, face turning white, “I am-.” A few moments pass before she coughs a little and answers, “I was at the Winter Ball, I heard them call you Ava.” I can tell she is lying, not just because she is horrid at it, but because the Ravens called me Evelyn, apparently Ava was not proper enough. I decided not to question her, people have their secrets and it's none of my business. “Well thank you-,” I pause in the middle of my sentence not having caught her name. “Scarlet, and you are entirely welcome” I nod as she beams at me. I secretly wonder what this woman had done to be cast aside like me, I can tell she has been by the way people move away from her, how she instinctively puts her head down. Slipping the money into my coat pocket, I turn away from the peering eyes. 

   The orphanage is warm as I enter, letting the cool seep out of me. Ms.B fusses over me, as the kids jump around in a circle, asking questions about what I bought, who I saw, and if Lady Parker was as fat as everyone says she is. But this is all white noise as I try to contemplate who the strange lady was. Scarlet seemed ever so nice, and didn’t look underfed or unclean, so why was she treated like me? “Ava, Ava, AVA,” I jumped at Ms.B’s loud voice. She is staring at me intently. “Honey your face is so pale, do you feel alright? Do you need to lie down?” I begin to shake my head before stopping, “actually Ms.B I don’t feel at all well, maybe I have caught a cold.”

“Probably from rolling around in that mud like a filthy pig, come come dear well get you out of those soiled clothes. Do you want me to bring up some Tea?” I don’t reply to Ms.B, I just float up the stairs, one step in front of the other. 

I lay in bed for about half an hour. The house is eerily quiet, most likely Ms.B told the younger children they must be quiet so I might rest. The lady Scarlet seemed so familiar, yet a total stranger at the same time. She seemed strong but fierce, and her eyes where ever so sad, like she had witnessed a life of sorrow even worse than mine. 

I wake to Ms.B shaking me rather roughly. I must have dozed off while pretending to be sick. 

“Ava up now, your dress has been cleaned and you must fix that hair of yours.”

I rub my eyes, only to have Ms.B hurl a dress at me, causing a button to hit my lip.

“Ow,” I yelp, “what was that for?”

Ms.B is scavenging through my drawer of items, pulling out every hair ribbon I have and discarding them on the floor after observing them for a second.

“AVA GET UP NOW,” Ms.B never yells so when she does I am instantly afraid. Sensing that she has upset me Ms.B pauses from her ribbon frenzy and looks at me.

“Honey there is a lady down stairs, she is claiming to be your mother dear. I need you to look your best so maybe she will take you.”

I know these words are not meant to hurt me, but I can’t help it. Does Ms.B not want me here? Does she love me like I thought she did? Seeing the pain on my face Ms.B quickly rushes towards me. Putting her arms around me she rocks me back and forth in a slow soothing rhythm. “Honey that's not what I meant. It's just not many parents come back for their children once they are here, in fact never in my life have any of my children's parents returned. Your growing up, and next year I will no longer be able to house you in our orphanage. So with your mother, you can always have a home with her, and you’ll be wealthy and married in just a few short years. Honey I do love you, along with everyone else but dear love can only take us so far.” I nod, wiping tears out of my eyes. I should be happy my mother is here for me, but I am also deathly nervous as I slip into my navy blue dress. What if she doesn’t want me, again? Ms.B quickly brushes out my curls and tops my head with a velvet white ribbon. With my too tight strappy shoes on and knee high stockings, Ms.B gives me one final hug before we ascend the stairs. I clutch the strap of my suitcase like it's a life line. Click, click, click, is the sound of my shoes as they collide with the stone stairs. The front room is dark, but I can see the outline of a woman. When she turns I can’t help but gasp. It is the lady from the town, Scarlet. She is furiously chewing her nails when she looks up at me and lets her hand drop to her side. “Ava,” is all she can manage to say. 

“My mother, your grandmother, died when I was 13. I held her paper thin hand as she passed from this world. After that your grandfather drank himself into his grave, I remember staying up nearly till one for him to get back. Then when I was 15 I met your father, he was a traveling salesman and I was so lost at the time I didn’t realize he didn’t seek my affection just my body. So out of that you where born, I told your father about you. I thought he would be so happy, that we would get married on the spot, but the next day he was gone. Now after your Grandmother died, my father hired one of our field help named Jasmine to take care of me. She was my midwife when I had you, I didn’t leave the house when I was pregnant, and Daddy was too drunk to tell. So Jasmine took my secret to her deathbed. I knew I couldn’t keep you, I wanted Ava, I did but my father would have noticed you, along with everyone else. And I was only 15, my life had just begun.” 

I hope Scarlet, or should I call her mother now? Don't think that I hate her, I understand why I had to go and I accept it but she continues on.

“After I walked you here, to those very steps. I had to force myself to walk away from you. Hoping that one day I would see you again. I thought I might marry, since I was still young, but after I left you nothing seemed as bright as before. My world was muted, even the balls I was invited to didn’t seem as magical as before. So guys thought I was dull, boring, and I admit I looked so sad and that is not attractive. So no man married me, not even now. My fathers house went to my uncle Henry, he allowed me to run the plantation and live in the house while he traveled and later married his wife, where they live in Boston. So here I am, finally fulfilling my promise to myself to retrieve my daughter.”

I don’t reply, just squirm on the floral sofa. Ms.B said she was grabbing some tea but that was 20 minutes ago. I have dreamed about this day, finally meeting my parents, or should I say parent. But now that I am hearing it all, it's a little too much to take. “Mother,” I tried out the word, “does this mean you're taking me home with you?” The smile that lights her face is like a flame to a candle wick. “Only if you want me to, dear.” I think about it for a bit, do I want to leave the orphanage? My mother continues, “of course we would visit the children whenever you desired.” Now its my turn to smile, “then I think I shall.”