Chapter Forty-Three: Arcadia

The northeast coast of Lake Superior was wild land. They drove for days without seeing a soul. It was the end of the day, the sun low in the sky around nine o’clock. The road was slow going. Every few k they had to clear debris, or drive around on open country. They carried extra fuel and water. They were both tired and ready to stop. She was near her time and they were trying to make an Ojibwe settlement where a midwife was supposed to be, but that was at least a day off and even then it wasn’t a sure thing, just something a cousin of a friend of a brother had said. There was an old roadway down to the lake, washed out but navigable, and they turned down it. She drove slowly but had a feel for things, a feel for the road he never had. She seemed to know where the holes were, how to skirt the rim of a crater or ride on top of two ruts. They got as close to the lake as possible and got out. She led Felix down the path; it was steep and narrow and thickly wooded with birches and aspens. Then it widened and they were on the shore. There were huge pink boulders and scrub pines and sand. She seated him on a rock by one of these boulders.

“The ground here is soft,” he said. “It’ll be a good night’s sleep.”

She went back to the car and hauled their gear down, their bags, a tent and cooking supplies. Not far off was the lake, cold even in summer, no shore beyond, like an ocean. They were at the head of a little cove. Sky put up the tent and then gathered some wood for a fire. She lit paper and twigs and lay on some branches. They crackled and smoked. A rock popped in the heat. They settled back together on a cushion and watched the flames, wincing as the smoke turned over them.

“It will be any day now,” she said. “I don’t want you to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“But you’ve never been at a birth before. It freaks some men out. I’ve seen them cry and vomit. They watch the child come out and never want to touch the woman again.”

“I won’t be seeing much.”

She laughed. “No, but look, you have to understand. We may not make it. I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for days now. My cervix is softening. I have no way of knowing what I’ll be like when I’m in labor. There are things you have to know.”

“What haven’t we been over?” All day in the car she told him birth stories.

“Those are just stories. Every story is different. The birth story is a genre, understand? We collect and tell them but in the end every birth adds a new story. Now, my blood pressure’s only a little high, so I’m not worried, but blood pressure’s one of the big three. Fetal distress, cord around the neck and eclampsia.” She got her bag out of the trunk and took something out. He watched her move and thought about climbing into the tent with her. All he wanted to do was fuck, there was no other way of putting it. All day long, in the passenger seat, while she talked about this and that, he thought about her body. It was embarrassing. What was it about cars? Cars are the only true aphrodisiac. He had never made love to a pregnant woman before. It was a little odd and he was afraid of hurting her but her body was so soft, her cunt a warm puddle. It flooded at his touch. She grunted quietly as they lay curled up on their sides, his front to her back, slipping in and out.

“This is a stethoscope. You don’t need eyes for it. During labor you’ll have to monitor my heartbeat and the baby’s heart beat. Put these in your ears.” He put on the stethoscope and she lay back on the cushion and lifted the loose shirt up over her belly. “Now, press it up on my abdomen here and there till you hear two heart beats.” He listened for the heartbeats. Hers was strong and squishy, fwump fwump fwump. “Do you hear them?”

“Just yours.”

“Listen carefully. Mine is big, bump bump bump,” she said, imitating it perfectly. “Then there’s a higher faster one. Pshs pshs pshs pshs.” It was hard to hear them both at the same time. But there were two pulses, one faster and higher than the other. He pressed it into her warm flesh. “When I’m in labor you’ll need to check every fifteen minutes. If when I’m having a contraction the fetal heart beat stops or races you’ve got to tell me. Now, the head is engaged, I can feel that, and the cervix is soft. The cervix is a canal between the uterus and the vagina. It’s tissue and muscle. There’s a mucus plug in it. As the baby lowers down the head goes into position and that puts pressure on the cervix. It’s like a pinprick normally. It goes from that to ten centimeters. You understand? That’s a contraction, that muscle opening a millimeter at a time. You can feel.” She pulled her pants down and raised her legs a little. “Put your finger inside me and feel all the way, it’s maybe as deep as your middle finger. Put on a glove from the bag and smear on some lubricant. That’s right.” Felix stretched on the glove and put a dollop of lubricant on his finger, looking at everything very closely, an inch or two from his eyes. He put his finger inside of her and felt up and back. It was all soft. “Now, how much of your finger can you get in there?”

“Just the tip. It gives a little and I feel the tip of my finger surrounded.”

“Well you see, I’ve dilated some. It could go on for weeks like this. You can take your finger out now.”

“It’s better without the glove.”

“Not for this. Pay attention.” He pulled the glove off and lay back besides her. She pulled on her pants. “Now I have to piss again.” She sighed and stood. “At least it isn’t in my pants. Maybe I should wear a diaper.” He listened to her pee hit the sand and watched her return. “I may want to start pushing before it’s time. Until I’m fully effaced and dilated to ten centimeters it’s a waste of energy. Now, I may be a screamer, or a moaner. You may not like what you hear. I’ll be meditating but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell. And I’m gonna look terrible, like I have no idea what’s going on. I may yell at you or call you names. Don’t worry. You’re here to help. I can have water but no food. When it starts, if we’re out here, you’ll need to set up a clean area. I can give birth on all fours, it’s better that way, or with my legs up. Put down several of those sterile blue sheets. When I start pushing I may defecate. Don’t worry, just wipe my butt with the sheet, wad it up and keep going.”

“You may defecate? Shit?”

“That’s right.”

“That can’t be good for the baby.”

“My germs are o.k. You can’t get hung up on these things. It happens, you keep moving. Now, after transition, you’ll think I’m dying. Watch me. You’ll know when I’m having a contraction. Don’t let me push till one begins. My labia will be all swollen up, you won’t recognize anything down there. When the head enters the vagina, the tip of it will show through the opening. Fluid and blood will start to well up. It’s covered in mucus and hair usually, dark. Take your time here. We’ll push a couple of times then, and it will slowly emerge and you’ll see the face, a little, serious face, eyes, nose and mouth. The baby is all compressed, squeezing out. You’ll need to support the head then and help it along. Don’t pull, I’ll push her out. Once the head is out she’ll come quickly. Hold the baby in your hand, clear the mouth with the siphon, gently, and then lay her on my belly and breasts.”

The sun was low. He stood. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I heard everything.”

“But you seem upset.”

He didn’t know how he felt. He wasn’t scared but things weren’t right. He wanted to walk. He wanted to do something. He grabbed his bag and said, “Walk me down to the lake?”

“Are you all right?”

“Stop asking that. I’m fine. I need to be alone for a minute, o.k.?”

Now she sounded nervous. “Normally I don’t give it all at once.”

“It’s not that.” He touched her cheek and tried to smile. “I’m just suddenly, I don’t know. Sad. Or burdened. I want to take Veronica down to the lake and be with her a moment.”

She led the way down to the lake, between the pink boulders and bent pine trees encrusted with balsam. He sat down in the sand, the cold water pulsing against his feet and felt the sun, warm on his face. He could see washes of color in the sky and the water, a gauzy dark plane with ripples of blazing light. He relaxed and let the light open and bloom on his eyes and face and listened to the water. There were kingfishers chattering and fighting. He kicked at the sand. This was the lake she had spent her childhood on. She used to tell stories about the barge and the men and women who worked on it, her first boyfriend, on the opposite shore somewhere. There were the cliffs they had run free on and this was the water she had fished and swum. He remembered the way her father strode across the deck of a boat as if he were commanding it with his feet, his free and happy face. Her mother, blond and muscley and tall, at the steering wheel guiding them out onto the Hudson the first time they met. Then Veronica, like a child, showing him their cabin below deck, a tiny hold with a mattress just big enough for the two of them and a porthole that splashed with water when they had speed up. Lying there on a rainy weekend making love, afraid to make a noise her parents might hear above the groaning of the engine. This was where she ran free and barefoot as a child. The kingfishers splashed in the water. Evening birds were calling in the trees. He couldn’t see them but he knew swifts would be scissoring the air. This is where she came from, this is where she belongs. He stood. It was the water’s edge. He picked up the bag and got out the box of her ashes and held them to him, a little apprehensive. He looked up and down the lakeshore, through the muzzy fading light. And then, he saw. Standing next to him, perfectly clear, was Sammael, gazing out at the sun, his face painted in the colors of dusk. He turned to Felix and said, “Hello.”

“Sammael. What are you doing here? I’m not in the garden, am I?”

“Would you like to be?”

“No,” he said, moving the sand around with his feet.

Sammael took a deep breath and smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. My, but it is beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to see her again?” he asked, rubbing his chin, his eyes sort of twinkling.

“No, I said no. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do? What do you mean by do?”

“With myself.”

“She’s really something, that one there.”

“Sky?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not real somehow. Sometimes I think she’s just another thing that happened to me. And I’m afraid I’m going to kill her. Everyone I love dies.”

Sammael nodded and looked back out on the lake. “I’m afraid that’s how it goes. Well, I’ll be going now.” He turned to look at Felix. “You know, love her Felix. Take care of each other. Love your children and try to die well if you can. I’ll see you around.” And he was gone.

Felix opened the miniature casket and dumped the ashes out into the water. They hissed going into the waves and when the box was empty he tossed it out into the lake, turned around and made his was through the fog carefully. The light of the fire was a warm orange and he headed for that. He bumped his foot against a rock. She was sipping a mug of tea. The ashes were drifting grain by grain out into the lake, mixing with the sand and sediment. He sat down next to Sky

and felt the fire hot on his face.

“Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” he said, embarrassed. And then, “Sammael.”

“The angel? You aren’t losing your mind are you?” Her voice sounded jolly.

“No,” he smiled.

“Don’t worry. My family’s been talking to spirits for generations.

Now, there’s just one other thing.”

“O.K. You’re all business aren’t you?”

“Well, I just need to be sure. If I haven’t gone into labor in two weeks we’ll have to induce. I have Black Cohosh and Blue Cohosh. There’s also mineral oil or an enema, high hot and sudsy as my mother used to say. Or I have prostaglandin gel. I’ll smear that inside me and hope for the best.”

“In two weeks. None of those sound pleasant.”

“Yeah. So did you do it? Pour out her ashes?”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?” “Like nothing at all, actually. It was all the anticipation.” She stretched her legs out and shifted uncomfortably and groaned.

“I wish this baby would come.”

“Is it moving?”

“Not anymore, not with the head engaged. I just feel like a whale.

Anyway, there is one other way to induce labor.”

“What’s that?” It was almost dark. He rubbed her belly.

“Well,” she said in a low voice, “ejaculate contains prostaglandin.”

She faced him and stroked his head. “We can just, you know, have a good hard fuck.”

He laughed. “You’d like that?”

“What did the angel say?”

“To love you.”

“Well you see? It’s divinely inspired, sanctioned by the gods.”

He felt her back and kissed her on the lips. And then he relaxed and let the light of the fire fill his eyes. The wind picked up and blew the flames flat, scattering some sparks. The birds stopped singing, one by one and he could hear the pulse of the surf mix in with her breathing. They lay together like that and by the time the moon rose over the lake they had fallen asleep. The first light of morning awoke them and they packed the car and drove off, into the open air of Canada.