1.
In Philadelphia, where her summer friends lived, you could
drive at 16. In New Jersey you had to be 17. That hurt.
Still, the day after her 17th birthday she took the written
test, passed with no wrong answers, and got her permit.
The morning of the driving test she woke up with a
headache, knocked down all the cones, and had to wait a
month before she tried again. The headache grew worse
then, and didn't subside for five days.
2.
By twenty she was getting headaches the way she used to
get stomach aches. Everyone thinks they know what a
headache is. Except Tylenol, Advil, and Excedrin didn't
work for her. Maybe at some point she'll calm down, one
doctor says. Another muses it might be a brain tumor.
Darvon and Midrin didn't work. Percocet didn't work. The
pharmacist says she should go wait for hours in the
Emergency Room. She hasn't tried strychnine yet.
3.
Love, to her, meant reflection. It meant seeing her pain
reflected in someone else's eyes. And this was one of the
reasons she never wanted children. But there were other
reasons.
4.
When she was pregnant she worried herself into migraines
at the thought of a child and a headache in the same room.
But she was thinking at the time of a very young child who
couldn't be trusted to be left alone for a minute. A little
whiner, perhaps, needing constant attention. She never
envisioned someone tall enough to reach the pedals, let
alone drive.
5.
She tries to get up and sees
spots floating in front of her eyes. Sun creeping through
the curtains is a dagger aimed straight for her eyeballs.
Her fourteen-year-old must be dressed and in the kitchen
by now. Even the thought of orange juice makes her want
to vomit, the smell of eggs will be sheer torture. He's old
enough to get his own breakfast, let him eat a candy bar
for all she cares. She pulls the pillow tight around her
neck, wishing it was a guillotine.
6.
She hears what sounds like goose-steps coming toward her.
Then the dreaded knock on her door. She gets up, holding
onto the bed, then the bureau, finds her pocketbook, makes
her way to the door, and tosses the car keys out to him. Let
the kid enjoy himself.
Rochelle Ratner's books include two novels: Bobby's Girl (Coffee House Press, 1986) and The Lion's Share (Coffee House Press, 1991) and sixteen poetry books, including House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003) and Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, Spring 2006). An anthology she edited, Bearing Life: Women's Writings on Childlessness, was published in January 2000 by The Feminist Press. More information and links to her writing on the Internet can be found on her homepage: www.rochelleratner.com.
