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pain. She said if I didn’t die giving birth to my curse, then I’d have to live with it all my life. One way or the other, she said, it’d destroy me, like I’d destroyed her.”
    â€œYou did destroy her! You killed your own mother!” Yetta’s jowls quivered with grief and rage.
    The young woman half rose in the bed, appealing to the older who loomed above. “I didn’t! You and Essie keep saying that, saying I killed her! That’s a horrible thing to say! You only say it ’cause you know she loved me best!” She dropped back against the pillows again. “Oh, Yetta, why couldn’t she forgive me? ‘I turn my face from you,’ she yelled. ‘I never want to see you again as long as I live.’ Why? ”
    â€œMomma dropped dead of a heart attack less than a month after you told her, Hokhmah. So? You don’t think that’s the same as you killing her?”
    â€œMomma had a bad heart for years!”
    â€œStill? The shame you brought on her, on all of us? God forgive me, but it’s a blessing Poppa’s dead five years, God rest his soul, so at least he was spared—” Yetta saw her sister’s face contort suddenly. She threw her knitting to the floor and moved swiftly to the bed.
    â€œOh God, ohhh it’s starting again. I can’t stay still, can’t sit can’t lie on my back or side can’t breathe can’t bear it! It’s like my bowels bursting, like something’s … chewing at all my bones and muscles oh God! ”
    Yetta tried to grab the flailing arms.
    â€œHokhmah, wait, don’t. Here, Hokheleh, here little one, hold on to me, hold on.” She grasped her sister’s fists. They spasmed open and closed again around her own in a vise.
    â€œYetta, oh Yetta … why’s it hurt so much? It’s not supposed to, nobody’d go through it if it was! There must be something wrong!”
    Yetta rocked back and forth in rhythm with her sister’s writhing, old enmities and judgments suspended, drowned out by the animal cries of the woman before her.
    â€œCan’t you get them to give me something? Yetta? Oh! Gotta be something … they can give me! It’s 1941, not the middle ages … gotta be some shot or— Oh God! ”
    Her sister spoke rapidly, the pace between them accelerated by pain. “There’s nothing, lovey. Nothing to give for this. Hold on. Bear it. Just hold on. A little bit more.” But the other was being consumed before her eyes, a body curling and twisting like a shred of paper in flame, the breath coming in sharp grunts.
    â€œMust be … something … hell burning inside me … oh please dear God …”
    The claw-like grip on Yetta’s hands ached up through her wristbones. “Hush, lovey, hush. Just a few seconds more.” Then the talons began to relax slightly, the breathing came in slower gusts.
    â€œOh, there … it’s letting up … Oh thank you, God, thank you.”
    Yetta eased Hokhmah back against the pillows and extricated her hands, flexing her numb fingers. She dipped a washcloth in the enamel basin by the bed, wrung it out, and bent to wipe the sweat-soaked head that was now crying soundlessly.
    â€œAch, Gott. Look at you. Poor little one, poor Hokheleh.”
    â€œSo … ashamed, ” came the whisper. “So … scared. ”
    It brought forth a fierce protectiveness in the older sister. “What? Why for? It’s his shame, not yours. You got nothing to be ashamed. I didn’t mean it, what I said before. Momma didn’t mean nothing neither. Where’s the shame? Nobody knows . Essie loans you the money to come here, out of state. I’m with you so you’re not alone. None of Momma’s friends or neighbors know, so it’s no shame on her memory, see?” But the silent weeping continued. “Anyhow, you’re right, Momma always loved you