Evelyn Evolving

2. REGINA – June 1923

2

REGINA – JUNE 1923

Regina didn't look back as she walked away from the large gray building, her back stiff and her head held high. She cursed the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She had kept them and her emotions at bay so she could get through what she had to do. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't able to take care of the girls. If only she hadn't been stuck in that tiny apartment in Detroit. If only it had worked out with John, who had whisked her away from Milwaukee with promises of a grand life on Grand Boulevard in Detroit. And it had been grand until the accident, and she became a widow before she was a bride again. John's mother had kicked her out of the house, allowing her to only take her clothes and nothing else. So here she was two years later and worse off than when she was married to Fred.

It seemed like Regina never had any luck. Or maybe she just brought the bad luck on herself.

First, there had been Fred. He was so dashing, tall with dark hair that tumbled across his forehead, so beguiling with that wicked smile. And he did like to party. They both liked to party, even after they were married, and when her monthly was late, she prayed so hard not to be pregnant, but God had stayed silent.

In the blush of new love and Fred's initial eagerness to have a family, she had gone along with the first pregnancy.

Actually, she'd gone along more because she was afraid to sneak away and have an abortion. Her friend Millie had almost bled to death in a dark, dank apartment where a woman “took care of things.”

The second pregnancy had been an “oops” when the rubber broke and one little sperm survived the cleansing Regina had done after the fun. Still more afraid of a back-alley abortionist than having another child, Regina resigned herself to being a mother of two. Fred was no longer so eager to be a father, so when her time came, he took Regina to the hospital and left her alone in the labor ward. It had been one of the worst days of Regina's life.

She didn't want another baby. She’d never wanted to be a mother at all.

It wasn’t something she’d ever allowed herself to say, even to herself, but it was the truth. She wasn’t like other women who couldn’t wait to have children. Those women who fussed and cooed over the babies in the hospital. The hard work of raising children in difficult circumstances dimmed the glow of maternal love.

At the time, she told people she was doing the best she could under the circumstances. Folks who knew Fred understood that and would nod in empathy, but in her heart, Regina knew she was not doing the best she could. The best would mean no more smoking or drinking. That could pay for one more dinner a week. And she would be sober enough to cook one more dinner.

The marriage had started to unravel shortly after Viola had been born. That's when the reality of having a baby had sunk in. During the first few days in the hospital, Regina had thought the tiny thing was just the loveliest thing she had ever seen and named her for the flower that was her favorite. The child deserved a pretty name. But three weeks later, that lovely baby face started contorting in the most awful red-faced screams. Day in and day out the baby wailed, until Fred started spending more and more time out of the house, and Regina wondered how much longer she could listen to the noise without doing something awful. That’s when her mother pointed out that the baby was probably just hungry. It didn't appear that Regina had enough milk. "But if you drink a beer just fifteen minutes before you want to feed the baby, your milk will flow like a river."

Turned out, Mother was right. The milk flowed and the crying stopped. Well, not entirely, but enough that Regina no longer had the urge to stuff a sock, instead of her breast, into her baby's mouth.

When the second girl was born and Fred showed little interest, Regina gave the child the first name that came to her—Evelyn Louise, using her middle name. Maybe that would spur some emotional bond. Since Fred wasn't there to object, Regina could choose whatever goddam name she wanted.

Fred wasn’t much for visiting hospitals.

To his credit, Fred did come to take her home from the hospital after her two weeks of laying up, but once they were home, he wasn't much help with the children. Babies both of them really. Viola was just barely two, and if the baby wasn't screaming, she was. "She's probably jealous," Regina's mother had said. "First children can be horrid about others. I was thankful to only have one."

Five months later, Fred said he was going out for some smokes and didn't come back. If she hadn't been angry enough to kill him if he showed his face again, Regina would have laughed at the whole cliché. How many men had used that same line, and how many women had believed the husbands would return? Waiting for hours, then days, then weeks, only to end up being stuck at home with kids. No job. No money. And no hope?

A week after Fred left, a man came to the door asking about him. Regina didn't like the looks of this well-dressed man—neatly-pressed suit, colorful tie, and hat like any other salesman who tried to separate her from a dollar or two. But his eyes were different. They didn't have that friendly sparkle framed by laugh lines. They were hard and empty, and the man didn’t lead with some pleasant banter. Instead asking, "Do you know where your husband is?"

Regina hated saying the words out loud, but his eyes compelled her. "No. Haven't heard from him since he left days ago."

"He say where he was going?"

"Out. Just out." Regina couldn't bring herself to repeat the tired reason that Fred had used. This man would see right through that.

"Do you expect him back?"

Indignation stiffened her spine and gave weight to her voice. "If he intended to come back, he'd be here by now."

The man took a half step closer. "Do not use that tone with me, little lady. You understand?"

He spoke softly, almost conversationally, but the menace was like ice in his deep blue eyes. Regina nodded, swallowing her pride and her fear.

"Good." The man eased back, but the hard look in his eyes didn't change. "Fred owes my boss money. A lot of money."

Momentarily, Regina flashed on the large satchel Fred had slung over his shoulder when he'd walked out that Friday night. Was that…? She masked any outward reaction as best she could.

"It's my job to get that money back."

"Don't know anything about your money," Regina said, hating the way her voice broke over the words. "He left me with nothing. Just the kids and a pile of bills."

The man didn't respond and didn't move. As they stood there, silent, a trickle of sweat ran hot down Regina’s back. What if he didn't believe her? What if he forced his way in? Searched the place? She was trying to figure out if she could close and lock the door before he made a move when he took a half step back. Regina fought to keep relief from showing as she maintained eye contact.

"When that husband of yours comes back, tell him Bernie wants his money." He paused, as if wanting to give time for that to sink in, then added. "Understand? Bernie don't like hurting women and kids. But he does what he’s got to do."

The man stood for another few seconds on the front stoop, then turned and left. Regina quickly closed and locked the door. Then she leaned her forehead against the wood. Oh, Fred, what have you gotten yourself into?

The answer to that question would have to wait. Evelyn was screaming to be fed again, and Regina felt the warm rush of milk filling her breasts. The beer trick still worked.

Fred stayed gone for six months, and then one day, he came back. When he walked through the front door, as casually as if he’d only been gone a few hours, he didn't say where he’d been. He had a noticeable limp, but he wouldn't explain that either. He did very little explaining, just resumed his routine of talking to people on the telephone and answering the door when the bell rang. Since he was home day and night most of the time, he didn't seem to care if Regina went out by herself, as long as she fixed meals and tended to the kids first. The marriage was all but over, but he never asked for a divorce. Neither did she, because he was now supporting them again. There was something to be said for security.

Regina didn't ask where Fred got the money he gave her to buy groceries and pay the bills. She was just thankful that he was able to do that. He wasn't much of a father, keeping a rather aloof distance between him and his offspring, but he did serve them the dinners Regina left. When she was home, it did hurt just a bit to see him brush any attempts at affection aside, but she rationalized that it would make the girls strong. They'd learn how to handle disappointment and frustration. Just in case their lives weren't going to be any better than hers had been.

Two months later, Fred left again.

That time, he never came back.

Regina didn’t like to think about what it had been like in those months after Fred and before John. She wasn’t proud of some of the things she’d done, and she’d certainly been a terrible mother to the girls. Leaving them for hours when she went out to hustle for some money. But she was still convinced that the hardships strengthened the girls for what might come in the future.

And now, a few years later, it appeared that she was right. Life was not going to be wonderful for the girls. Regina had no delusions about how they would be treated at the orphanage. It wasn't like a home, a real home, and they would be lucky to just have food and clothes.

Was it better than what she could offer?

Her steps faltered as she considered turning around and grabbing them out of there. But then what would she do? Take them to that dumpy little apartment in Detroit? Feed them hot dogs every night from the Coney Island where she worked? Have them sleep on a pallet in the corner of the living room? The girls might come to hate her for what she did today, and that was a painful realization. Still, she kept on walking away. It was the best thing for them all. Regina might not be the best mother in the world, but a part of her did care about her daughters and fervently hoped for a happier future for them. She didn't pray for one, however. She was long past the days of prayers, figuring God had given up on her years ago.