m review — short fiction — green streets
Green Streets
by Jocelyn McDaniel
Ana Lucia was still whispering, "Jesus Jesus, forgive me Senhor," while the fan buzzed back and forth along her bare skin. Her sweat made little ovals on the underside of her hammock. Dona Rosa was sitting next to her and holding her hand. I almost wanted Dona Rosa to leave because I knew Mamae would be mad when she came home from work and found her in our house. Mamae doesn't like company. She says people talk too much. But if Dona Rosa left, I'd be all alone with Ana and that scared me. It was how she whimpered from the pain in her belly. It made me think of Dona Rosa's puppy that got run over by a moto; it just lay still and whined like that until it died.
That was on the road that went by the store. I'd walked right past there today, going fast to bring Mamae the tomatoes and onions for lunch. I had to hurry because Ana hadn't started the beans, so Mamae would be late getting back to work. When I got home, Ana was slicing cucumbers for vinaigrette, and she took the tomatoes from me and started on them. She was good at everything. She brought the thin knife down quickly through the red skin and cut perfect little circles. Every time I tried to cut a tomato, it squished and bled seedy goop.
I leaned into the side of the couch and tried to stretch a cramp in my leg. I had to be quiet so they wouldn't hear me. They didn't know I was hiding there. Dona Rosa had closed all the shutters. I guess she didn't want anyone to see. That made it dark, which was good to hide in, but it made it real hot too.
After lunch, Mamae had told Ana Lucia to sweep the floor. She said, "I don't care if you're pregnant you can still help. When I was pregnant I cleaned houses every day and I never got to sleep." Mamae put on her heavy shirt, brushed off some sawdust, and went back to the mill.
Ana didn't get out of her hammock. So I got the broom and swept. I like the swish-brush the broom makes on the smooth floorboards. I swept the dirt over to the big crack between the boards and watched it fall. I used to think our house was on legs so wild animals could run under it and not bother us, but then Ana said it was so the rain wouldn't flood us.
"I saw Marcos at the store," I told Ana. "He had a container of propane slung over his shoulder to deliver to someone."
"Shut up," Ana had said.
"I thought you liked Marcos," I said. "I think he has a nice name. Marcos. Mar-cos."
"Shut up," Ana had said.
I asked, "Are you really sick or is it just because you're pregnant?"
"I'm going to die," she said. "My belly hurts so bad." I hadn't believed her. But now I thought she might die. I could see the rags between her legs get redder. And she looked pale.
I'd just hung the broom from its nail in the kitchen when she'd pushed herself out of the hammock and ran for the outhouse in the yard. She stayed there a long time. Then she'd yelled at me to go get Dona Rosa, our neighbor. I guess she wanted Dona Rosa because she always knew what to take when you got sick and how to fix a twisted ankle. People were always coming to her for help. She took Ana inside, and I followed them after I told my friend I didn't want to play anymore. We'd been playing dolls and our dolls were going to have babies. We wrapped pieces of cloth around little sticks to be babies. My friend made five but I only made two.
Anna was back in her hammock and Dona Rosa had put rags between her legs. She was closing the shutters when I came in. She saw me and said, "Go back outside, child."
"Is Ana ok?" I asked.
"She will be," Dona Rosa said. "Go."
I opened the door like I was going, but she turned her back, so I slipped in between the couch and the dresser. I could only see Dona Rosa's legs when she sat down and Ana's body pressing against the cotton hammock, but I could hear. I could find out if Ana Lucia was really going to die.
Dona Rosa asked Ana about her baby. Ana started crying and said she'd bought some medicine from a girl at a club. The girl had said it would work fine, but she hadn't said it would hurt this much. And then all Ana said was, "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, forgive me Senhor."
Dona Rosa wanted Ana to go to the hospital, but Ana said no; she'd get in trouble for taking that medicine and the church wouldn't like it. And she said she didn't even know where her identity card was, and you can't get treated without your card.
"Have you eaten anything?" Dona Rosa asked her.
"No," Ana said.
"You'll need strength for this," she said and got up to look around the kitchen. She snapped one of the bananas off the bunch and started to peel it. Then she smelled it. "Not ripe yet," she said and let the peel fall back over the white curve. She put it into the trash sack hanging from the sink. "Do you want another aspirin?" she asked. I guess Ana nodded because Dona Rosa got her one.
I couldn't tell how late it was since the shutters were closed. I wondered if it was about time for the novella to come on. Sometimes Mamae comes home earlier, but usually before then. She liked to flop onto the sofa and watch the novella, maybe drink some cachaça, before she showered and had dinner. She'd be so mad to see Dona Rosa here and Ana Lucia in her hammock and dinner wasn't even ready. I pulled at my lip and then I wiggled out from my hiding spot and tiptoed to the door. I opened it and acted like I had just come in. Dona Rosa was watching me.
"Mamae will be home soon," I said. "I'd better make dinner." She looked at me for a second, and I wondered if she knew I'd been inside, but she nodded and called me a good girl.
I warmed up the fish from lunch and I only burned the bottom of the rice. I put everything on the table and then sat down. I watched Ana's belly rise and fall over the edge of the rice bowl. I didn't feel like eating.
Dona Rosa tried to get Ana to eat but she wouldn't. She asked for a rosary instead, and I pulled the one off the wall in the living room and gave it to her. When I saw her hand shaking I wondered what she would look like if she died. Then I felt sorry I'd thought that.
Mamae came home. She slapped her work gloves against her leg and glared at all of us. "What is this?" she asked. Dona Rosa stood up and told her what was going on. "Little bitch," Mamae yelled. "You're going to burn in hell. I never killed any of my babies, and this is what I get!"
I slid off my chair and crouched under the table and watched Dona Rosa. She took a deep breath and said that Ana should go to the hospital and asked where was her identity card?
"I don't know," Mamae said, turning away. "She can just bleed to death for all I care." She slammed the door behind her.
Dona Rosa looked at Ana. "God preserve you," she said. And Ana started pushing.
"Jesus, Jesus," she said and screamed. Dona Rosa helped her out of the hammock and made her sit on a chair.
I grabbed the chair legs so tight my fingers went numb, and I cried because I was scared. Then Ana pushed out a little baby and Dona Rosa started to cry too. She wrapped it in one of Ana's school shirts and put it on the table next to the rice bowl. She saw me and told me to get up. I sat at the table again and stared at the little bulge. It moved.
"He's alive," I said.
Dona Rosa turned around and saw it too. She grabbed her mouth like she was going to be sick. "God," she said, "God why? No," she said, "it's not alive. It's just the heart beat. It's a reflex action. It'll stop." And Ana pushed out something else and Dona Rosa mopped it up.
Mamae came back then with a couple bottles of cachaça. When she walked in Dona Rosa gave her a dirty look and said, "It's over." Mamae opened one of the bottles and made Ana drink it until she had to stop to breathe. Then she and Dona Rosa got Ana back in the hammock.
Ana started saying, "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, forgive me Senhor," again. Then she passed out.
Mamae and Dona Rosa sat at the table with me and we stared at the bundle of Ana's blue shirt. I think his heart was still beating. Dona Rosa told Mamae it was a reflex action and we all watched. Mamae and Dona Rosa drank, but then Mamae told me to go outside. She said to wait on the step and not to talk to anybody.
I could hear their voices inside, but they were too quiet to understand. After a while Dona Rosa came out and went to her house. She didn't look at me.
Mamae called my name. I went inside and she handed me the trash bags. They were heavy. She told me to take them to the trash pile by the road and come right back and not to talk to anybody.
I put my hands behind my back and shook my head. "Take them or you'll get smacked," Mamae said her eyes tight on mine.
I said I didn't want to.
Mamae said she wasn't going to have her daughter's sin hanging in her kitchen. She said she wouldn't be blamed for us, but she wasn't going to live in a house of blood.
I watched her thick hands twist the necks of the bags, her scarred fingers tapping the knots. I couldn't cry. I was too old for that now, so I held out my hands and she passed the sacks off to me.
I carried them outside one in each hand. No one was on the beco path. People were turning off their lights as I crossed the boards over the ditch, balancing the sacks with my arms out. I stopped where the path was slick, and put the sacks down. There were a million stars overhead and I wished I could be one of them. If I could just be a million kilometers away in the soft dark, having to do nothing but twinkle and stare down at the world. From there I could see all of Brasil, even the big cities like Rio, where we watch the Carnival on TV. If I was a star, and I saw someone who was sad, I would shine bright like the moon, just for them. I looked up and down the path again, but I was alone. I felt my way over the clay washout and tried not to think when I saw the road ahead of me.
I put the bags down in the bushes near the trash pile.I pulled two of the heavy leaves off a little banana tree and laid them across the bags. Then I found a little stone and put it in the middle. I sat on my heels and looked at the lumpy white sacks. I kissed my fingertips and touched each one. "You're my first nephew," I whispered. "I'm going to call you Marcos. I wish you had come out normal. But Ana didn't want you, so I'm glad you're gone. You were a good baby, Marcos. Adeus."
I walked back slowly and I didn't look at the stars. I stared at my feet gliding over the trampled red clay and I tried to think of nothing at all. The house was already dark. Nobody said anything as I hung my hammock and slipped inside. I pulled the sides over me and held them so they blocked out everything.
When Mamae sent me to get bread the next day I used all the other paths and I took the long way around. But it didn't help.
I saw the two stray dogs fighting right outside our house. They were pulling on the ends of a blue rag and snarling. I tried not to look, but I saw the dried blood on it and I knew it was Ana's school shirt. I grabbed the broom and ran outside, yelling at them. They saw me, but they didn't let go. They kept growling until I hit them with the broom. The shirt tore and one dog fell, dropped his half and ran off. The other one backed away, his eyes on me.
I picked up the piece of shirt and went inside. Ana was still in her hammock. Mamae hadn't said a word to her, not even to tell her to get up. So she didn't. Her eyes were closed most of the time but I don't think she was asleep. Sometimes her fingers slipped on the rosary.
"Ana," I said.
She opened her eyes.
I held the bloody rag in my palm. "I named him Marcos," I said.
"That's right," she said.
"He's gone."
"I know."
I wanted to yell at her but I asked where Mamae keeps the hammer.
"On top of the fridge," she said.
I dragged a chair over and got it, then I pulled out the nail that used to hang the rosary. I moved the dresser out a bit and hammered the nail into the wall behind it.I stuck the rag on the nail and pushed back the dresser.
"This way he'll always be with us," I said.
"Come here," Ana said.
I went over to her and she motioned for me to get in the hammock. She wrapped her arms around me and put her face in my hair.
"When I was little, I saw a bird fall out of a nest once," she said."I wanted Mamae to put it back, but she didn't."
"I wanted him," I said after a bit.
I could feel her tears slide through my hair.
"We won't tell Mamae," she said.
Jocelyn McDaniel of Cedar City, Utah.
First Place, "Green Streets", winner in the Short Fiction category for the M Review 2006 Writing Competition.
Jocelyn McDaniel of Cedar City, Utah was raised in New Mexico and spent a year in Brazil. Her experiences there have shaped much of her writing. She is currently working on a collection of short stories set in Brazil.
