Chapter Four

THE CURSE

“Push!” the nurse said encouragingly. The child’s father looked down approvingly, squeezing his wife’s hand. He had hated seeing the pain on his wife’s face, but the end result would make them happier than he’d ever been, even on the day he had met his wife.With an almighty groan, the newborn’s head landed heavily in the nurse’s waiting hands. “It’s a girl!” the nurse cried to a small round of applause from the gathered audience. They waited for the baby’s first breath. She whimpered and everyone gasped with pleasure. The newborn’s parents looked at the baby crying and wriggling in front of them. The mother held their new daughter lovingly in her arms, cradling the child carefully. The parents smiled at each other.

“Emilette.” The child’s mother said, smiling. The nurse nodded, writing down all the necessary information. Emilette’s father squeezed his wife’s hand. Various family members surrounded them. They all ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the new addition to their family.  They were all smiling and looking at the baby.

“Emilette,” they echoed appreciatively.

“Ten fingers, ten toes; dark hair, dark eyes-perfect,” Emilette’s mother grinned. “She looks just like her father. She is perfect.”

Indeed, the baby was perfect. She fit well into her mother’s arms, her dark hair curly and framing delicate features. Her eyes, bright as stars and dark as chocolate, met her mother’s for the first time. They seemed to speak the wisdom of the world.

“That’s all we wanted,” her father added. The nurses were cleaning up the mess and taking the baby’s measurements.

An old woman came forth from behind the crowd. She started to chant. It was old language. The parents watched, unsure what to say or do; wondering what exactly the old woman was doing. The baby’s mother assumed the woman was one of her husband’s crazy relatives, and the baby’s father expected that the mother knew theunusual chanting woman. The old woman looked at the couple, noticing their forced smiles, wondering, she knew, who this crazy old lady was.

“This baby is too lovely to see the rottenness of the world she has been brought into. She will get to see the world for a while, but I will not allow her to be an adult who will have to suffer the injustices. She will not survive to be seventeen. She will not grow past adulthood. You will not wish her to suffer. She will be better off without seeing such pain,” the old woman explained.

The mother started to cry. She was sobbing, the child shaking in her arms. She distantly felt the baby’s father drop her hand as it fell limply to her lap. The watchers were all quiet as they watched Emilette’s father walk out the door, not allowing his wife to see him cry. Everyone wept quietly along with the newborn’s mother.

“Mija,” she murmured, holding her daughter close. “I will protect you to the ends of the earth. I will not let this come true. Te amo mucho.”

The baby soon became a beautiful Spanish child, her dark hair and dancer’s body giving Emilette an Amazon quality. She wasraised carefully her whole life. Her mother sheltered her. She didn’t hide from the child what had happened. The child knew by the time she was eight that she was different.

The child was kept home from field trips, and everything she wanted to try was forbidden. She never rode a bike or roller bladed. She was given a pass from gym class, and when she was six and begged her mother to let her go to the beach with her best friend’sfamily, she was stricken to be denied. Her family generally never took vacation, and the whole house was padded to a level of safety that was never relaxed. Her life was like walking on eggshells. Her mother brought her to the doctor all the time, not that Emilette was ever ill. Emilette hated being different.

“It’s not important that you’re different,” Emilette remembered her mother snapping in a particularly bad mood, “it’s important that your safe.”

So Emilette lived on with all the questions until she was thirteen and was finally given the answer to all her questions.

“I’ve carried it around since I met you. But I didn’t want to tell you. I couldn’t, no, I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t make you carry my pain. But you wanted to know, so that’s my story.” Emilette finished.

“And I'm so scared. You’re right, I’m weak and a coward,” Emilette conceded, her tears still streaming down her face.

Genevieve wanted to ask more, her natural curiosity getting the better of her, but she bit her tongue, telling herself that now, with Emilette as upset as she was, was not the time.

“No you’re brave to live with that, everyday. That’s being strong!” Genevieve comforted her friend.

Emilette sniffled. “I'm sorry, Em,” Genevieve ventured.

“Me too, Gen,” responded Emilette.

The bell rang for next period, but Genevieve had more to say to her friend. “I don’t want to fight, but you can’t keep it bottled up. No wonder you’re hurting.” Emilette nodded, still sniffling sadly. “But the curse should urge you on to live every day to the fullest. You need to go after…”

“No!” Emilette interrupted frantically. “After I shut him out like that, he won’t be interested.”

“If you want I can…Do you want me to ask Nick? Or I can talk to Kyle, or have Nick ask…” Genevieve offered, hoping this would make her friend smile. She hated seeing her friend so upset.

“Don’t bring me into you’re relationship,” Emilette said kindly.

“Friends first,” responded Genevieve. “I’ll ask him, OK?” Emilette nodded appreciatively. The girls hugged. They didn’t care that they were going to be late for their next period class. They were happy enough not to be fighting. Neither wanted to admit that it’d been a long weekend. They didn’t need to. They were close enough, that, without words, everything was said.