After a year of college, Patrice thinks she has a good understanding of how the World works. When she confronts her mother about an old friend of the family, Patrice will learn what she doesn't know.
Thank God Patrice's mother was a coward, or they'd be across the street with Mother Gibson's people trying to stop women from exercising their right to an abortion. The old Black woman's voice rang throughout the otherwise quiet neighborhood. "Every knee shall bow to the name of-"
"Jesus!" answered the followers.
"Every tongue shall confess the name of-"
"Jesus!"
"The government shall be on the shoulders of-"
"Jesus!"
A late model SUV pulled up.
"Every mountain shall be brought low by the name of-"
"Jesus!"
A young blonde woman in a pair of jeans got out of the SUV
"There's power in the name of-"
"Jesus!"
The young woman walked up to the protestors. Patrice started to get up from the bench, but her mom grabbed her arm. "Patrice, I don't want you getting caught in this. Mother Gibson knows what she is doing."
The young woman seemed transfixed by Mother Gibson's gaze. Mother Gibson said, "Look in your heart, girl. You don't want to do this."
The girl said something that Patrice couldn't make out.
"No," said Mother Gibson. "you have a choice. You have an opportunity that not everyone has. You have an opportunity to be a hero. That baby, you got in your womb is like no other baby that's ever been and no other baby that will be. You can't replace it."
The crowd said in quiet voices, "Amen," and "That's right."
"Child," said Mother Gibson. "I'll walk through the fire with you. You won't lack food or shelter or any good thing. If you can't handle the baby, there's a lot of people who can. Please."
The girl turned from Mother Gibson and entered the clinic. Patrice's mother gave a choked cry and a tear trickled down her face. Patrice sighed. It was just a fetus. What was the big deal?
Mother Gibson said, "Okay Lord, I tried, but I know you can do what I can't." They then began to sing an old spiritual.
Patrice sighed at the old woman's naiveté. When Patrice was a kid, she'd thought Mother Gibson was the holiest and coolest lady around even if she wasn't Catholic. Now, she understood better. Her religion professor had taught her about the religious right. They didn't understand God. God only wanted us to accept one another. He didn't care if people were Christian or if they had an abortion, or were gay. God just wanted us to be good neighbors. She had felt so silly when she learned this.
How could she have gone along listening to her parish priest and Mother Gibson? She'd been a stupid kid, but at nineteen, she knew better. After Thanksgiving break, she was going to deliver a speech on the dangers of the religious right for Public Speaking. Of course, she wouldn't mention Mother Gibson. All of her friends would know what a fool she was if she ever told them.
The girl emerged twenty minutes later and pushed past Mother Gibson, with her head down.
The group chanted, "To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, though we have rebelled against him." The woman got in her car and sped away. Mother Gibson shook her head and called for everyone to gather round. After a couple minutes of prayer, the group broke up and Mother Gibson crossed the street to Patrice and her mother.
Patrice's mother rose up and gave Mother Gibson a hug. "How was your day?"
"Long," said Mother Gibson. "Had twelve come and only nine ended up going in."
"Thank God for the little miracles."
Mother Gibson pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her brow. "I worry about them. Those who didn't go in didn't come to us for help. I just hope they'll make it okay. I'll say a prayer for them."
If Mother Gibson cared so much about whether they could make it, why was she was trying to force them to carry a child they didn't want?
Mother Gibson grabbed Patrice and gave her a hug. "Girl, look at you. You're what? A Sophomore now? Your mother is so proud of you, she goes on and on about how her Patrice has been on the Dean's list every semester."
When would this be over? "That's nice. I'm going to try and transfer to Berkley next year."
Mother Gibson clucked her tongue. "That's a hard place, Patrice, but the light of God can penetrate any darkness."
Maybe it was a hard place for fundamentalists like Mother Gibson, but she'd fit in just fine. They all piled into her mom's Ford Lincoln Mercury and drove to Mother Gibson's favorite restaurant, "Jean's Place."
Patrice ordered a salad. Generally, she'd get a chef or Caesar, but without her college friends around she ordered the chicken cordon bleu. She was thinking about becoming a vegetarian. Her professor had told her about all the dangers associated with eating red meat. One of her boyfriends the past quarter had been involved in PETA and they'd broken up after he caught her eating fish. She sighed.
As always, Mother Gibson ordered the Prime Rib platter. Patrice glanced at the price on the menu. The 12 oz. cut of Prime Rib was the most expensive item on the menu. When would her mom would realize Mother Gibson was taking advantage of her?
Mother Gibson told the waitress, "Now, put mine on a separate ticket."
Patrice's mom said, "Mother Gibson, how many times do I have to insist on paying? Today's a special outing with Patrice back from college."
The waitress said, "Lorraine, you insist on paying if its just you and Mother Gibson. Maybe you should let her pay for her own."
Patrice's mom said, "Mother, you don't get that much money."
"You don't owe me anything, Lorraine," said Mother Gibson.
Her mom raised her voice. "Please, Mother Gibson, I insist."
"Okay," said Mother Gibson.
The waitress had left. Patrice's mother shouted back to the kitchen, "There'll only be one ticket."
The waitress shouted back, "I know."
"So," said Mother Gibson. "where's that husband of yours?"
Patrice's mom finished chewing her salad. "He'll get in early tomorrow morning."
Mother Gibson said, "If my Harold had tried flying all over the country, I don't know if I'd have put up with it."
"We live comfortably enough. The best part is he's retiring at 50."
"Well, that's good. Of course, Harold had to go off to war." Mother Gibson had a far-away look in her eyes.
Mother Gibson hated war, as she'd lost her husband in Vietnam and her son in the first Gulf War. To Patrice, this was a contradiction. Her professor had taught her the religious right was very hypocritical as they would talk about the lives of fetuses and be the first ones to support a war.
"I saw a different car outside. Do they have a new doctor at the clinic?" asked Patrice's mother.
Mother Gibson smiled. "Mmm hmm. Glory be. They had to import another one. The power of the Holy Ghost is against them, because greater is He that is in us than he that's in the World."
Patrice asked. "Why does it matter if there's a new doctor?"
Mother Gibson said, "Child, it means the old one's quit. Now, eventually the people operating the clinic are going to run out of doctors willing to make murder their full-time profession."
Patrice's mother smiled. "And this is the last clinic in the city."
Mother Gibson chuckled. "The judges may say abortion's legal, but it won't matter if no one will perform the dirty deed."
Patrice had enough of the anti-abortion fanaticism for a lifetime. "I'm going home!"
Patrice stormed out of the restaurant and hailed a cab. Her mother's voice sounded behind her, "Patrice, what's wrong?"
Patrice ignored her. She wasn't ready to talk to her mother, though that would have to come. She got in the cab, went home, and crashed on the couch.
Her mother had to see reason. Her mother had gotten a lot of religious dogma growing up, and Patrice also knew how powerful Mother Gibson was, but Patrice had to do this. Her Women's Studies professor had taught her the importance of confronting misogyny, even in your own family.
Patrice walked out on the patio, and pulled a cigarette from her pocket. Hopefully, her mom would understand. She'd not gotten mad about the cigarettes, just insisted that Patrice not do it in the house, which was about the same thing her college required.
Her mother's car pulled up outside. Patrice dropped the cigarette on the ground and put it out with her shoe, went inside and sat on the couch. She practiced to her speech in her mind. She'd been taught about boycotts and thought this might be a good tactic.
Patrice's mother came in the house. "Patrice, what's wrong honey?"
Patrice glared at her mother. "It's Mother Gibson. She's an anti-choice extremist. If you're going to have her over for Thanksgiving, I won' t be here."
Her mother would cave, Patrice knew it.
Her mother said, "You'll be missed."
Patrice's jaw dropped. So she wanted to play it like that. "She's what's wrong with our country! She's all about intolerance and forcing others to live their lives according to what she believes. I remember September 11th. That's what religious extremists do."
Patrice's mom clinched her fist. "Mother Gibson is-"
"She's fighting against the Constitution. She believes that her religion makes her more right than any woman who doesn't want to have to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term. She's using you, manipulating you to get your money, and you're swallowing her con, hook, line, and sinker."
"Without that woman, you wouldn't be here!" Patrice's mom covered her mouth.
Patrice stared, a chill coming over her. "What are you talking about?"
Patrice's mom said, "I'm sorry."
"I want to know."
Patrice's mom sat beside her. "I've told you that you were adopted."
Patrice nodded. That was obvious. She had olive skin, her parents were lily white. "Yeah."
"When I was twenty, I was fooling around and I got pregnant. I was scared to death of someone finding out. My boyfriend left me to deal with this on my own, so I decided to get an abortion.
"I went to the clinic and Mother Gibson was out there. I didn’t listen to her. I went in for the abortion but-" Her mother began to weep. "The idiot doctor pierced my uterus. I had to have a hysterectomy. I killed the only baby I could have ever had. I went to confession and told the priest. The priest said my penance was my barrenness. I thought God hated me and for years I didn't go to Mass.
"When I married your father, I told him up front I couldn't have children. I didn't tell him about the abortion. I was afraid if I did, he'd want to have nothing to do with me. He married me and he started doing well in the law practice. He wanted to adopt, but I didn't."
"Why not?" asked Patrice.
"Because I'd killed the only baby I had. I wouldn't have ever adopted if it weren't for Mother Gibson. She kept trying to befriend me. She'd see me in the supermarket and say hi. I'd run away as fast as I could, because I knew how holy she was and that she knew what I'd done." Patrice's mom wiped her eyes with a Kleenex.
"Then one day, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it up and there she was. She'd brought me some home baked bread and asked to come in. For some reason, I couldn't refuse her. She told me she'd come because she knew why I was sad all the time.
"She told me about a pregnant woman. Mother Gibson had talked her out of an abortion, but the woman couldn't care for the baby. She wanted to know if your father and I would adopt the child.
"I told her I didn't deserve a child. She told me that God doesn’t give us what we deserve. She said the Mercy of the Lord reaches to the sky, and He wanted to show me mercy. So, after talking to your father, we said yes. And God blessed me far beyond what I could have ever dreamed when I got you."
Things started to make sense for Patrice about her mother, even as they became very confusing about herself. "Is that why my middle name is Mercy?"
"Yes," her Mom nodded. "Because the Mercy of the Lord was there for me. And Mother Gibson brought you to me. She helped take care of you when your father had to be in the Hospital and never asked for a dime. She had every reason to condemn me, but became my friend. For that, she can have as many prime rib dinners and ministry support checks as I can give."
Patrice bit her lip. She'd been too rash. "I'll come to dinner."
"I'll be glad to have you."
Patrice walked out to the patio and lit another cigarette. Was it such a bad thing if a woman didn't get an abortion? After all, there were a lot of parents who'd like a baby. The world was more complicated than any of her professors knew.
"Oh God, I've been a sheep." Patrice watched a star shoot by. She'd gone from following everything her mother said to listening to everything her professor taught, or that her peers did. She eyed the cigarette in her hand. She'd come way too close to not even being born to smoke her life away. She'd make it a New Year's Resolution to quit smoking. She took another drag on the cigarette. New Years was still more than a month away.
She thought she'd figured out life and how the world ought to be, but in the cold autumn air all she understood was that there was so much she didn't understand.
