I named her Faith knowing that’s what I needed. Faith.
Giggling in my delirium as my doctor had coaxed me to push, I’d realized I was about to have Faith. Most people wouldn’t have found that funny, I know. The lady the hospital provided to coach me certainly hadn’t. She was perplexed by my laughter. I’m pretty sure she thought I was crazy.
Still, the words of that old George Michael song my Aunt Betsy used to sing had taken over my head. It was her favorite back when she lived with us. I wish I could have remembered more. More of the song that is. I remembered plenty about Aunt Betsy when she stayed after her divorce. I used to pretend I was her, living her carefree life, always surrounded by friends, yet never too busy to stop and have a pretend pot of tea or a Barbie style show. That was the only time in my life I didn’t feel alone.
“You’ll spoil her, Bee,” my mother would tell her. Betsy would roll her eyes and stick out her tongue or, worse, make an obscene gesture with her hand. That one especially used to make my mother huff away commenting on how ungrateful her younger sister was.
But I loved my Bee. I was proud of her success after she got on her feet and left my parents’ house. She was her own woman, not needing anyone or anything. That’s what she said. Mother used to say she would have been nowhere had they not taken her in. I rolled my eyes. Mother always took credit for the success of others … and distanced herself from their failures. Wasn’t that evident by the fact that my parents were on their third trip since the beginning of this whole shameful mess?
Like mother – like daughter. I shrugged. It’s not like they would have been much support anyway, though under the circumstances, you’d have thought they’d be more understanding. Not them.
Oh, dear God. More tears! I began to hum that song again. I could only remember a little. Oh you gotta have faith, faith, faith. You just gotta have faith…
To read the rest of No Shameful Mistake, please visit my writer's page at Clever Fiction (click HERE).