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16
Alex
“Noreen” by Egor Mayer, ID246909352 licensed from Shutterstock.com.
I THOUGHT I was a pretty worldly guy. I thought I had things pretty well figured out in life. I had a business in Chicago and one in Ontario. I’d been traveling all over the world as part of my job with the State Department and had been in every country in the Western Hemisphere. I’d had a few different lovers. Of course, none of them compared to the three wonderful women who shared my home and my bed. We are a family.
Ronda and I have been together since February of 1967—six years! We had shared a girlfriend in high school, but when Chris graduated, she left us both. Ronda stayed with me and has never left my side. Oh, we’ve been apart, but Ronda is committed. She transferred from Boston University to the University of Chicago her sophomore year to live with me while she did her undergraduate work in International Relations. She probably could have gotten a much better job than being my coordinator at the State Department, but she wanted to stay with me. I love her to the moon and back. She’s a rock and has seen me through a ton of shit. She travels with me making the interminably long trips seem more bearable.
Anna was my very first girlfriend when I moved to Tenbrook in 1966. My mom had become the Methodist minister there and we moved out of South Chicago so she could serve the church there. Talk about culture shock. Tenbrook had about one percent the population South Chicago had. But the very first day of school, I sat next to this incredibly cute girl named Anna in speech class and asked her out on a date. We were together for a few months, but she got scared of how fast we were moving—we hadn’t even kissed yet—and broke up with me. We kept working together on the school yearbook, though. By summer, she had officially become my accountant and bookkeeper. And by the next summer, we were lovers. She has more business sense than anyone I’ve ever met. And she manages the family just as efficiently. I love her so much I can scarcely see straight.
Then there’s dear sweet Patricia. When I first met her in Tenbrook, she was riding the back of a motorcycle behind Tony, the leader of the local ‘biker gang.’ He had a tough reputation, but through one thing and another, we became best friends. One of those things was Patricia. She got me to take pictures of her pretending she was a Playboy bunny for her boyfriend. He loved them and kept sending her back for more pictures. When he was drafted into the Army, my mom married them. Patricia continued to come into my little studio every week to get new pictures to send to Tony. And sometimes to cry, because she was so lost without him.
After Tony was killed, she spent even more time with Ronda, Anna, Chris, and me. When she found out she was pregnant, she sought comfort in my arms and we became lovers. I would do anything to protect her and our little girl Toni. Toni has called me Daddy for years and that’s what I am to her. We always remind her that her father is buried in Tenbrook and was a very brave man who saved my brother-in-law’s life. But I’m still Daddy.
The important thing is that we are a family. I mean Patricia, Ronda, Anna, Toni, and me. We live together. We bought a house in Ontario, just in case I needed to run from being drafted. It included an antique store and my Canada studio. We bought a house in Antioch, Illinois as a base for our time with the State Department, and a place to raise our children.
Children.
Patricia was pregnant with our child. I’d been gone way too much during her pregnancy and was looking forward to three weeks of peace and quiet before they put Ronda and me back in the air. None of us had realized what 75% travel would actually mean. But there was nothing I could do about it.
The week after my graduation from college, I received my draft notice. In a final stab at me, the crooked draft board in Hunter County had changed my status from II-S to I-O. I’d applied to become a conscientious objector years before, and they decided to grant the request as soon as they had control over my status again. They claimed all conscientious objectors had to serve, though legally, they were treading on thin ice. Nonetheless, I’d already agreed to go to work for the State Department and they simply bought my contract from the selective service. That tied me to them for two years.
When Ronda and I got to Midway in Chicago Saturday morning, all I wanted was to hold my family in my arms and possibly sleep for the next few days.
“Anna! You’re here to meet us! I thought we’d have to take a limo home again,” I said as our wife rushed to meet Ronda and me. She kissed me deeply and turned the same attention on Ronda.
“There’s no one home,” she finally said. “Elise took Patricia to Lake Forest Hospital the same time I left to come and get you. She went into labor this morning.”
“Oh, my God! We’ve got to get there!” I cried.
“That’s why I’m here. Get your bags and let’s get loaded.”
“No rest for the wicked,” as Reverend Mother Superior would say. She easily included me in that statement.
“What about Toni?” I asked.
“We had arrangements made with Lisa Thompson to stay with Toni when Patricia went into labor. Toni isn’t allowed in the birthing room, and she loves her teacher,” Anna said. “And if it takes until Monday, she’ll just bundle up Toni and take her to school like always.”
“That’s good. Oh, man. Last time it was something like twenty-some hours after she started labor before the baby was born.”
“Yeah. I think Patricia conveniently forgot about that when she decided to get pregnant again,” Ronda laughed. “I’m glad Elise is with her until we get there.”
“So, in order for all of us to be with her, we had to get clearance from her obstetrician. Officially, Nate is the father. He has a right to be in the delivery room if Patricia approves it. And she has. We had to do a little manipulating to get you and me included. We are listed as birth coaches. If she hasn’t popped already by the time we get there, we can rotate in and out. They don’t want more than one coach at a time.”
“What do I know about coaching a birth?” Ronda asked, alarmed.
“You hold her hand and say ‘Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.’ And when the doctor says ‘now,’ you start chanting ‘Push. Push. Push.’ Word of advice: take off your jewelry before you hold her hand. She will crush it.”
“I’ll verify that. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to use my hand for a week after Toni was born,” I said.
“Oh boy,” Ronda said. “It’s a good thing I love that girl to the ends of the earth.”
“True for all of us,” Anna affirmed.
“Baby, we’re here,” I said as soon as I entered Patricia’s maternity room. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” I kissed her and she reached up to hug me.
“Aside from being tired and cranky, I’m fine,” she said. “Little Alex, on the other hand, is being a stubborn brat.”
“Hey! What’s that about?” I asked petting her tummy.
“When we got here, my contractions were about ten minutes apart and it looked like it would be a race to see if you got here before the baby did. Now contractions are twenty to thirty minutes apart and the doctor says I’m not dilated at all. They wanted to send me home until they realized how far we live.”
“They aren’t too busy this weekend, so the doctors kindly granted her a room for a night or two,” Elise said.
“Well, it will all pick up again and we’ll have a baby, right?” I asked.
“That’s the idea. The doctor wanted to call it false labor until he witnessed one of the contractions. I guess some women think they’ve gone into labor and then nothing happens for a week,” Patricia said. She reached for Ronda’s hand. “I’m so glad you got here, Mom Ronna.”
“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett,” Ronda said in a very fake southern accent. Patricia started laughing, then seized up in a cramp.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Again!” Patricia said. She squeezed Ronda’s and my hands as she began panting.
“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe,” Ronda chanted while grimacing in pain. The contraction passed and Patricia lay there gasping to catch her breath.
“Apparently, you know how to make me laugh,” Patricia chuckled. “How long was that one, Mom?”
“Twenty-three minutes,” Elise said, jotting down a note and looking at her watch.
“Who’s been feeding you spinach, girl?” Ronda asked, flexing her fingers.
“Sorry, honey. When they hit, everything just kind of seizes up,” Patricia said. She motioned for a drink of water and I held the glass so she could sip through a straw.
Since it looked like the baby would be a long time getting there, Ronda and I ran home to put fresh clothes on and to assure Toni that baby Alex was still in Mommy’s tummy but would be out soon. We talked to Miss Thompson—Lisa—and she said she would be fine with Toni for the rest of the weekend. They were planning a big game of Chutes and Ladders. Toni was also teaching her to foxtrot and to waltz.
We had a late lunch with them, then Ronda and I headed back to the hospital to sit with Patricia and give Elise and Anna a break.
There wasn’t much change the rest of the afternoon. We all got dinner, though Patricia’s wasn’t solid food. Anna, Elise, and Ronda went home. I decided to spend the night and just be with Patricia. She was feeling pretty sticky and stinky from the day’s exertion. We checked with the nurse on duty and then I took Patricia to the shower.
I held her and bathed her. She said the warm water felt good. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a pregnancy if she hadn’t been hit by another cramp in the middle of our shower, but I held and supported her through it. I got her dry and back in bed before the next one hit.
I wrote down the times and duration in Elise’s log book, then Patricia settled down to get as much sleep as she could. I slept in a chair beside the bed and held her hand, being awakened by her grip every time she woke up with a cramp.
In the morning, the obstetric nurse came in and took all Patricia’s vitals, then looked at our ‘labor log.’ She scratched a couple of notes.
“Your labor pains are finally getting closer,” Nurse Abbie said. “You’re down to about fifteen minutes. The doctor will be here around nine and he’ll check to see if you are dilating. If so, I’d bet you’ll have a baby before dinner.”
“That’s good. I’m getting hungry,” Patricia said.
“You’re doing a good job,” Abbie said. “You look a little parched, though. Better have a sip of water or some ice chips. Do you need me to call in the anesthesiologist?”
“No. I think I can manage with Nate here.”
“You’re lucky to have him with you. Most women do this alone or with a woman to assist.”
“Mom and my wives will be here before long,” Patricia said, fading back to sleep. Nurse Abbie raised an eyebrow at me and I just smiled. She left.
“Progress is progress,” Dr. Randolph said when he’d examined Patricia. “Dilated to four centimeters. Heart rate is good. Not sure why it is taking so long. We’ll get this baby on the ground soon. If it’s not out by evening, we’ll give you a dose of Pitocin.”
He seemed to be a decent guy. I remembered what an ass the doctor was when Toni was born. The staff here seemed to be a lot more… um… empathetic, I guess. They cared about the people who were here.
I sat with Patricia and we played a little cribbage between her contractions. Ronda and Elise arrived and said Anna was staying with Toni and her teacher for a little and would be arriving shortly in the microbus.
“So, we’ll have two cars here?” I asked a little foggily. I hadn’t gotten much sleep. I guess no more than Patricia got. It had gotten to the point that as soon as a contraction died down, she just dropped off to sleep.
“What we’ll have is a car and a bed. When she gets here, you’ll go out and get some sleep. That way, none of us will be far away when the time comes. We can all rotate in and out and know we can be back in the room in ten minutes or less,” Ronda said.
“I need a cup of coffee,” I said, yielding my place by the bed to Elise. She looked at the list of cramp times and nodded.
“It’s just slow. It isn’t stopped.”
“I’m worried about how long Patricia can keep this up. Her last couple of contractions she didn’t grip as hard.”
“I think she should get the epidural now,” Elise said. “We’ll talk when she wakes up again and then call for the anesthesiologist. Even though it was really slow at first, she’s been in labor for twenty-eight hours already.”
Anna arrived and took me to the microbus. She settled in with me and I went off to sleep almost immediately. I was out for about three hours. I stopped for coffee on the way back to the room. When I got there, I found Patricia with more wires and a drip bag leading to her spine. She was asleep.
“Mr. Hart and Miss Marx,” Dr. Randolph said, following us into the room. “You are aware that you have medical power of attorney for Mrs. Kowalski?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?” I said.
“This has been going on for too long,” he answered. “She still isn’t fully dilated, even though the pains are now just a little over five minutes apart. We can’t have her start pushing and the baby is in distress.”
“What should we do?”
“I recommend an immediate C-Section. It may be the only way to save the baby.”
“And Patricia?”
“She’ll have a little scar on her tummy, but there shouldn’t be any other negative effects.”
I looked at Anna and then Ronda and Elise. They all nodded.
“Can I go with her into the operating room?” I asked.
“Can you stand the sight of blood?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I have a problem with that.”
“Scrub up. Nurse, he needs scrubs, hat, and mask.”
He stepped out into the hall and was immediately followed back in by two guys dressed in green. While Nurse Abbie was monitoring my hand washing and getting me into the same kind of green jumpsuit, the guys shifted Patricia onto a gurney and I followed her out of the room.
Our doctor was assisted by another surgeon, or vice versa, and a curtain was erected between Patricia’s baby bump and her boobs. I sat on a stool on her left, holding her hand, and a guy with the smoothest voice and tone I’d ever heard sat on the other side, explaining what was going on.
“Are we going to have a baby now?” Patricia asked me.
“Yes, honey. They say she’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“I still think it’s a boy,” she smiled.
“Now, Patricia, I want you to let me know if you feel any pain. I’m monitoring your epidural and we can adjust it if you are hurting. You’ll feel a little pressure now. It’s nothing to worry about.”
I stood up to look over the curtain and could see the doctors opening a slot in her tummy.
“If you are going to faint, please try to fall that way,” the guy beside Patricia said.
“Right,” I answered.
I sat back down, but continually was drawn to stand and look over the curtain. It was amazing. I really couldn’t understand what the doctors were mumbling, but before long, they were pulling and a head emerged from Patricia’s abdomen. It was really a task to get her out. It looked like they stretched her neck out a foot before the rest of the baby finally followed.
“Here’s your little… girl,” said Dr. Randolph.
“And here’s her car keys,” the other doctor said.
“Oh my!” The nurse said, taking the baby to a receiving station where her nose was sucked clean and she was weighed and measured. Patricia gave me a little push and I walked over to see my little daughter.
“Black hair and blue eyes,” I said as she looked at me.
“Can you say American Express?” one of the nurses said. They put a knit cap on her head and wrapped her in a blanket.
“Here’s your baby,” the first nurse said. And then she just handed me my little tiny girl.
I’d never known the instant bonding, the complete and unconditional love, that overwhelmed me when the nurse put my own little girl in my arms for the first time. I cried as I held her and took her to her mother. Then we both cried.
I believe we have a soul. I never really found evidence of it in the Bible. And no sermon ever convinced me. No. I believe I have a soul because I felt it leave my body and wrap itself around my baby daughter that day. I was more firmly attached to her than to any human being on earth. Even when I was in a different room, I could close my eyes and feel my daughter in my arms. To protect. To nurture. To Love.
How was I ever going to travel and leave her?
I carried her to the bed where Patricia was being cleaned up and stitched up.
“Honey, here’s our little Alex,” I whispered as I brought the bundle to her mother and tucked her in.
“Oh, Alex. You are so beautiful,” Patricia said. “Have you already decided to become a professional boxer?”
“Everything turned out well,” Dr. Randolph said as he came around the curtain to look at little Alex. “But a ten-pound baby! Patricia you aren’t big enough to carry that big a child. And with her presenting sunny side up, having the cesarean was the right decision. We’re going to move you to the recovery room now and I know the rest of your family is eager to greet the two of you.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said.
“And thank you, Jim,” Patricia said to the guy who had talked her through the whole thing. He was disconnecting the bag to her epidural.
“Patricia and Nate, love that precious little girl for all you’re worth. Life is a wonderful gift and I’m always thrilled to help welcome a little one into the world.”
It worked out well that Ronda and I had just gotten home from a trip because we had the entire next week off. Then we’d still have two weeks working in the office before we had to fly someplace else. I didn’t even know what our next destination was.
I, being a little bullheaded, insisted on spending the remainder of the night with Patricia as our baby was brought to us for feeding on a regular basis. Elise, Ronda, and Anna finally went home and promised to be back in the morning.
When they returned Monday morning, we were feeling a little tired, but Patricia was sitting up holding Alex. Unfortunately, since she’d just had major abdominal surgery, she wasn’t going to get to go home as quickly as she had with Toni. And that had Toni worried. We decided that I’d go back to Antioch and pick Toni up after pre-school and bring her to visit Mommy and Baby Alex. Patricia and Alex would be allowed to come to the visitor’s lobby where Toni could meet her new little sister.
“Daddy, why Mommy still in hopsital?” she asked when we got in the car to go for our visit. I’d prepared a baloney sandwich and potato chips for her lunch in the car with a sippy cup of juice.
“Well, sweetie, Baby Alex had trouble coming out of Mommy’s tummy, so the doctor had to make a hole for her. That’s surgery and Mommy needs to rest for a couple of days before she can come home. You’ll see the bandage on her tummy when she comes home and she won’t be able to lift you up right away until she’s healed,” I explained.
Toni scowled as she ate her sandwich, then her face lit up.
“Like Daddy’s pendix!”
“Yes, honey. It’s just about like Daddy’s appendix. The doctor had to make a little hole in Mommy’s tummy for Baby Alex to get out.”
“Did they throw Baby Alex away? Like your pendix?” Toni was puckering up to cry.
“Oh, no! Baby Alex is just fine and we’re going to meet her in a few minutes.”
“Oh. Good,” she said and settled in to enjoy the rest of her meal.
When she was face-to-face with her sister, Toni suddenly became very shy.
“Sister?” she asked.
“Yes, honey. This is Baby Alex.”
“She’s little!”
Patricia had been wheeled out to the waiting room so she could hold Alex for Toni to meet. We thought we’d prepared Toni pretty well.
“She was just born, Toni. She was in Mommy’s tummy.”
Toni shook her head.
“Tummy was bigger than her!”
“Maybe it seemed like it. But see? Mommy’s tummy isn’t big anymore.”
“Do you want to hold Alex’s hand?” I asked, directing her hand to the baby’s fingers.
Of course, as soon as Alex felt the touch on her palm, her fingers closed on Toni’s finger. Tony was surprised.
“Alex, you squeeze hard!”
“Babies don’t know how hard to squeeze yet,” Patricia said. “You used to squeeze Mommy that hard, too. You have so much to teach Alex. Just remember she’s only a baby now and it will take a while for her to learn things.”
“Babies are a lot of work, huh, Mommy?”
“Yes, but this little baby will love you as her big sister more than you can possibly imagine. She’ll love you like Mommy and Daddy do, and like Mom Ronda and Mom Anna.”
“Okay. Lub you, Alex!” Toni said kissing Alex’s cheek.
We sat around the waiting room for an hour, just talking and sharing stories. Eventually, after some of the new excitement wore off, Toni sat on a couch with me and Anna placed Alex in her arms. Then Toni opened up and started talking to her baby sister. Ronda took pictures of us as we’d been taking pictures of every little thing since the birth.
“I teach you to color and draw. And letters and numbers. I read you stories and share toys. I know how to share,” Toni said, lost in her conversation. I think Alex was just fascinated with her sister’s voice and stared up at her. “I teach you to talk and to dance. Daddy dances with us. He dance with you. Reynard dances fox trot. I waltz, too. Fadder lives in the cementary. I tell him about you. I’m glad Daddy lives with us. He has to go away a lot and Mom Ronna goes with him to keep him safe. Mom Anna makes pancakes with lots of syrup. Miss Lisa is nice. She teach us songs. I read a book. I show you my books. You can read them, too. Do you want Daddy to read to you at night? I share.”
Toni’s monologue continued until Alex got a little fussy and Patricia and Ronda wheeled back to her room to feed and change her. Then Toni crawled into my lap and Anna sat beside us to hold us together. Toni curled up and went to sleep on us.
We got to take Patricia home on Thursday. All any of us wanted to do was sit with her and with the children. Of course, we’d all need to return to work next week, but at least we’d be home in the evenings. Elise promised to stay at least through the next week, or longer if we needed her. It would depend mostly on how quickly Patricia healed. So far, she was unable to lift the baby. Someone else needed to pick Alex up and bring her to Patricia. Patricia could move around, but was a little hunched over.
Well, her incision was a lot bigger than my appendix scar.
I picked up the phone Friday morning to hear Levi’s greeting.
“Congratulations, Nate! How is the baby and your family?”
“We’re all doing good, Levi. Thanks for calling.”
“Well, of course, I had reasons other than just congratulating you. Can you do a sitting this weekend? The studio is mostly like you left it. We’ve put in new darkroom equipment and have had several other photographers come in to use it. Worked out a deal with your former professor, Hyatt. He occasionally brings students over to practice putting together studio shoots. Works out pretty well.”
“That’s good. I’m glad it’s getting some use. What do you have this weekend?”
“I think this woman was sent by one of your patrons. When I asked about getting a photographer, she insisted that it had to be an Attic Allure photo by Nate Hart.”
“Hmm. I’d better have an assistant. Let me see if Anna can help me.”
My wives were all sitting nearby and I told them about the request. Anna quickly agreed to assist me and we set up the appointment for Saturday afternoon.
“Welcome to Attic Allure,” I said when our model arrived Saturday afternoon. It had been good to see the guys in the Warehouse and Levi showed me that nothing much was changed in the studio. It seemed there was a little less junk in it, but maybe it was just better organized. I’d taken most of the interesting backdrops to Canada. There were some interesting new pieces, though, too.
“Thank you,” said the good-looking brunette with her hair in a bob. She was about five-eight, I’d guess. She was wearing sneakers instead of heels with slacks and a nice blouse. “The man downstairs, Levi, said to give you the model release form.”
I looked at the form to make sure everything was in order. Noreen Roselle, thirty years old, from Chicago. Her release was conditional on approving any photos I chose to use. Hmm. I didn’t usually take exceptions, but I trusted Levi knew what he was doing. He’d said he thought she was referred by a patron.
“Tell me what you’re interested in, Noreen. I have a portfolio with me you can look through. I’m afraid I’ve taken down the gallery because most of my work these days is at my studio in Canada.”
“Yeah. Um… I’ve seen some of your work in the Zefford Gallery. Mr. Zefford gave me your contact information here at Camera Warehouse and showed me a brochure of your other works,” she said. She leafed through the portfolio and closed it. “I understand you’ll photograph me nude. I won’t object to the release of anything that doesn’t actually show my nipples or my vulva. Or if something shows, it looks like a slip and not an intent. I want something dramatic. Something that looks like I could seriously take vengeance on my enemies.”
“Do you have many enemies, Noreen?”
“I don’t think so. But I want people to know I’m prepared.”
“I think that makes sense. I’ll ask you to step behind the privacy screen while we get the stage set.”
We were almost set up already, but Anna went to get the stool for portraits and turn off the general lighting. Noreen was surprised when I walked behind the screen with her.
“We’ll start with a standard portrait set,” I said. “I didn’t want you to think I was asking you to undress. I’d just like to look at your makeup.”
“Oh. You startled me for a moment.”
“I have a question that I ask every model who comes to me, so please don’t think I am singling you out,” I said. “Noreen, are you here of your own free will without anyone pressuring you or forcing you to have your pictures taken?”
“Wow! Sorry. That kind of came out of left field. No. No one is pressuring me. I don’t think anyone knows that I’ve come here,” she said.
“Good. Sometimes, people who are referred to me are either paid to be here or pressured. I don’t like that and tell my patrons I won’t photograph anyone who is here under duress.”
“I guess that’s pretty considerate of you,” she said as I turned her head back and forth a bit to look at the way she’d done her makeup.
“Is this your standard look?” I asked. “I mean there’s nothing at all wrong with it. You’re beautiful. But I’m thinking ahead to doing some much more dramatic makeup. Not face paint or anything like that, but something to draw attention to your bright blue eyes and add mystique.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes. Part of my education has been in the area of makeup and costuming. What I’m thinking would be in the category of ultra glam.”
“Okay. That would be neat.”
Neat? Hmm. My sisters sometimes used that word. I supposed it was that six or eight years difference in our ages. Noreen was about the age of my sister Deborah.
I led her to the stage area and seated her on the stool. I adjusted a couple of lights and moved back to the camera. I was using the Hasselblad, but I had the Linhof 4x5 on its sturdy wooden tripod sitting at the ready. We progressed nicely through the portraiture and I took her back to the privacy screen to work on her makeup.
“Oh, Anna, I saw a beaded curtain out there when we were poking around. Let’s see if we can suspend it in front of the dark blue backdrop.”
“You got it, boss.”
“I didn’t realize you worked with an assistant. It’s kind of a relief,” Noreen said.
“I find it makes both models and me feel safer,” I said. “I checked with Anna before I accepted the appointment. I couldn’t do a lot of what I do without her.”
“Sounds like a treasure.”
“She is. I love her.”
“Oh. Now we’re getting somewhere. Is she your wife? Girlfriend? Lover?” Noreen giggled.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Come on. That was too brief. Which?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me. I don’t think your life could be any more complicated than mine.”
“Okay. I have three girlfriends who are my lovers and I consider each of them to be my wife, though for obvious reasons, that’s not technically possible. We live together and as of this week, we have our second child.”
“Your second child! I… um… That’s incredible. And it actually works? The four of you together plus two children?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty great. Now tell me about your complications.”
“Oh. Well, when I was around seven, my parents divorced. My mother remarried and had two more children. That’s to go along with the three of us from the first marriage. I’m the youngest of those. When I was sixteen, I went to visit my blood father and he attempted to rape me. I didn’t see him again until the funeral last fall.”
“I’m so sorry, Noreen. What an awful thing to endure. Let’s see what we can do to turn you into a glorious goddess who could wreak vengeance on her enemies.”
“What about my clothes?”
“About that. I don’t want to invade your personal space, but I usually work with a model to undress her as we are taking the photos. If that is too traumatic for you, I’ll try to give you instructions instead and let you do the work yourself. If you were a professional model, it would be different. They know how to work the clothes when it is time to remove them.”
“I am not here to have sex with you.”
“You would be sorely disappointed if you were. I have a firm rule against sex in the studio and against dating models. That means no sex with a model outside the studio, either.”
“Your um… assistant will still be here?”
“Always.”
“I don’t know exactly why I trust you, but I do. I’m in your hands.”
We went to work and I gradually got her out of her clothes, but I didn’t touch her in any overtly sexual way. It wasn’t necessary to make her nipples erect because we kept them covered with her hands or a bit of scenery. She was truly beautiful and responded quickly to the lightest touch to put her in position. I finally managed to get her in a position in the curtain of beads so they were partly behind her and partly in front. The beads were enough to obscure her nipples and she dropped a hand to cover her vulva. I switched to the 4x5.
She was surprised when I swept her up in my arms and carried her to the privacy screen and began pulling her clothes on her.
“Oh my! That was a rush,” she said as I handed her her panties and held her slacks for her. “Nate, is all your family like you? I mean, kind and liberated? Um… Genuine?”
“I think you can tell by having worked with Anna this afternoon that we have a pretty open way of dealing with people. Both Ronda and Patricia have helped in the studio and enjoy working with clients.”
“I mean… Your parents and your sisters.”
During our entire time this afternoon I hadn’t mentioned my parents or even that I had sisters. I stepped back away from her.
“How would you know anything about my parents or that I had sisters?”
“My mother told me what happened. It was after my father attempted to rape me. I never understood what pulled the family apart when Mom divorced him. She said your father never spoke to him again, either.”
“My father?”
“I think we’re cousins. My father was Lewis Hart. He was Richard Hart’s older brother.”
I collapsed onto a chair and handed her her shoes. My cousin. It had only been a year or so since I found out I even had an uncle and cousins I’d never met. But here, I’d just stripped and photographed my cousin.
“Your name…” I said.
“I took my adopted father’s name. I only vaguely remember your family. I think your sister… um… Deborah and I used to play with dolls together. Like on Christmas or something. I don’t remember much more from that time. I just wanted to find out if my uncle and cousins were as vile as my father or if they’d turned out to be good people. I think you’re good people, Nate.”
“Thank you, Noreen. I don’t know what to say. My dad only told me about a year ago that he had a brother. Apparently, he’d had to track him down because he didn’t have a birth certificate and needed to get a passport. He wasn’t happy about having to make contact. Told me to let things be as far as that was concerned.”
“It was good advice. My father was still in prison. For attempting to rape his daughter.”
“Noreen, I’m so glad you’re okay. I mean, I don’t know what else your father did, but Dad told me his advice almost cost him his marriage to my mother. I’m so sorry you went through all that.”
“Your family, Nate? Are they good people?”
“Yes, Noreen. They’re good people. Mom’s a Methodist preacher down in Sage. Dad has been battling health problems the past couple of years, but works at a little company down there. Deborah’s husband John is in the Army and they just moved to Japan with their two kids. Naomi is in the Air Force and runs a helicopter mechanic crew in Germany. My little sister, Kat, is in art school in Minneapolis. They’re all good people, Noreen.”
Tears were dripping from our eyes as we sat facing each other. She hadn’t started buttoning her blouse yet when she reached to me to hug me.
“I’m so glad. I just wanted to know that some part of our family was good people. My brother Dave is a lot like Dad and lives in Arizona. I haven’t spoken to him in years. My sister Linda lives in Florida. I last saw her four years ago when she went to rehab. And Dad died in prison last fall.”
“I’m so glad you found me,” I said.
“I’m not a good person either, Nate. I… You have three wives. I’ve been married three times. I have no taste and keep ending up with the same kind of guy my father was. One of your photos was on display in the window at Zefford Gallery and I happened to pass by and see it. Something about it just spoke to me. It was a girl, desperate and strung out on the floor. I went in and had to see more of your work. Mr. Zefford said the photo was five years old and had just been released. When he showed me your portfolio, I wanted to see me through your eyes… to somehow believe I wasn’t a terrible person from a terrible family.”
“When you see these photos, Noreen, you will see a beautiful soul. Not just a beautiful body, but a woman who sees the world for what it is and is still surviving.”
“Thank you, Nate. Maybe… um… one day… maybe we could get together again. I’d like to get to know my cousin a little better.”
“Let’s do that, Noreen. I’ll talk to the family and we’ll invite you out for dinner.”
By Friday the next week, we were all exhausted after a full work week, a new baby at home, and a mother-in-law helping. Ronda and I had been busy trying to orchestrate our next trip. It would be to someplace farther away than we’d been, and that meant another two-week trip at least. We were plotting it either to Australia or West Africa. Great fun.
As soon as Ronda and I got off work, Anna picked us up in the microbus. Patricia, her mother, and the two girls left earlier in the day to head to Tenbrook. Going west from downtown Chicago had a familiar feel to it and we were all reminiscing about how many times we journeyed back and forth. This would only be a weekend trip. We had to get Alex to Sage to introduce her to her grandparents, and to Tenbrook to see her grandfather. It would be a quick trip, but we needed to make it.
The three of us got to Tenbrook about seven-thirty and went straight to the Bergs’ house. Of course, Toni was excited to tell her grandfather all about baby Alex and wanted to see Grandma Ellie and Grandpa Jim, too. We were going to put that off until Saturday morning, but they showed up at the Bergs’ for dinner with us and were just as enamored with Alex as with Toni.
We took both vehicles to Sage because we anticipated leaving from there back to Antioch Sunday afternoon.
“Mom and Dad, here’s your newest grandchild, Alex,” I said after Dad had already picked Toni up to hug her.
“Oh, she’s so sweet. And so big! I should have warned you, Patricia. Nate weighed twelve pounds eight ounces when he was born. I was sure that with you being so small, your baby would be smaller,” Mom said. “And she’s much better formed because of the cesarian. Nate was a little lopsided after making it through the birth canal.”
“Thanks for warning the rest of us,” Ronda said. “I wasn’t seriously considering having one, but just having Alex around makes one think, you know?”
“I can’t even imagine you having one of those in your tiny tum, love,” Anna said. “I’m not sure I can imagine having one in me. It’s a good thing we have Patricia for kids.”
“This is it for me,” Patricia said. “I don’t think I could do it again. If we want more kids, either one of you will have to step up or he’ll have to find another woman to breed.”
“Jane,” Anna and Ronda said together.
“Dad, um… I met my cousin Noreen,” I said later that evening when we were sitting together. Toni had just gone to bed and I was holding Alex.
“Hmm. I remember her as a nice girl until Lewis got hold of her.”
“Yeah. I think she’s still nice. We’ll probably get together next week sometime to introduce her to my family. I assume you know that Lewis passed away.”
“I knew it was coming. He was contrite when I saw him last spring. I don’t believe he ever really changed. I’m sorry you got dragged into that family cesspool.”
“I didn’t go looking,” I said. “Noreen found me. She isn’t any fonder of her father or even her siblings than you are. I gathered that her brother is just like his father and her sister is in and out of rehab for drugs and alcoholism. Noreen said she’d been married and divorced three times.”
“The family’s cursed,” he said. “I’ve tried so hard to insulate you and Kat from the way I hurt your older sisters and your mother. Maybe it would be better for me to die now.”
“Dad! How can you even suggest such a thing? Kat and I love you and we want you around for a long time so you can be Grampa to all our children. Please, don’t even think about leaving us now.”
We just sat there. He nodded. Alex finished her bottle and was fast asleep.
“Alexandra Serenity Hart, I baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. May the Holy Spirit work within you, that being born through water and the spirit, you may become a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Mom sprinkled water on Alex’s head and then carried her up and down the aisles of the church so everyone could see her.
“This is my granddaughter!” she announced proudly. She handed her back to me since Patricia still couldn’t carry her unless she was sitting down. When we all got back to our seats, I handed her to Tor. He and Elise had come down for the baptism. Toni was a little unsure of that, but figured that left Dad’s lap empty for her. And she knew exactly what to do when it was story time for the kids.
After church, we all gathered back at the parsonage for Dad’s Sunday dinner. To me it was a sign of his improved health that he made up a nice meal. We cleaned up and then Ronda took Patricia and Alex in Patricia’s car. Anna and I took Toni in the bus. We told stories and sang songs all the way home.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
