So, Help Me God

By Serena Babel

Sara thought her marriage would fate freedom from her father’s prison-house. Clink! Alas, her “freedom” bore out a thorn in her side. The trouble of tugging at the thorn traversed her lifetime . . . and trouble of her own accord.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781684099795

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So, Help Me God

Serena Babel

Copyright © 2017 Serena Babel

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-68409-978-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68409-979-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Synopsis

So Help Me God

Sara saw Jack, and she

Dared a second look-see.

And so it came to be

He was deigned to be

Her cup of tea.

Haw! Grace gone! A fawn

No more and dawn,

By flaw, she saw… no sun

… She’d come undone.

Hitched, they got,

Tied the knot.

But the rot of the pot

Didn’t hit the spot.

What’s in a pickle barrel, I bid.

You don’t know until you open the lid.

Sara flipped the lid and Hello!

Pandora’s box of woe.

Yes, Jack pulled the cork out of her plans

With his myriad of bans.

But Sara didn’t whine

Without the wine… She was fine.

Vows she said…

Now and then, she yenned to shed.

True colors of Jack she saw;

Love gone, she saw the flaw.

Sara took her turn in blame,

Left herself for shame.

But she couldn’t face...

Her fall from grace.

Her sorrows churned and turned

Her black to white, wrongs to right.

It came to be her family…

And God were her cup of tea.

But woe, the road Jack trod was low.

Crazy ways and crazy days

Ensued, but Sara kept it glued;

Though Jack was crude, she didn’t brood.

Feelings of ill will? Well, maybe!

Sara thought Jack was a wee bit crazy.

But she kept on her merry, wary way

… And stirred the pot, not.

Sara believed in prayer, so

Whatever her problem, she knew where to go.

Anxieties were kept at bay.

Prayers helped her every day.

In memory of my mother, who instilled in me my faith.

Preface

Silent Sara

Words instead

Said in her head

Gold or lead?

Goodness her role

Look to her soul

Out black spot!

’Twas her goal.

But it was not!

Now and then

Time and again

’Twas rot.

For falls from grace befell

Exempli gratia as well

Ring the bell, ding-dong

Wrongs get a gong.

Chapter 1

Did I find Jack, or did he find me? When first I saw him, I knew I wanted him to be mine.

And I knew that he

Wanted to be with me.

How did I know? I crow,

I was in the know.

A gift… or a curse.

What’s the matter?

The former… or the latter?

No matter.

A change of course ensued our find.

My mind, muddled and left behind;

A puzzle I couldn’t piece. I needed to find

Peace of mind.

And…

I was a board game,

Bored of the game.

And I put all the pieces away.

All plans went by the board.

I was on the border

Of something and nothing.

I chose nothing…

To be but a boarder.

A reflection!

I was afraid of my reflection.

I was

The antithesis

Of

Narcissus

And

A paradox.

Clarity was a rarity.

But zest

For my quest,

Was best…

I guessed.

In high school, my plan was to become a teacher. I enjoyed tutoring other students in Math, English, and Latin. But late in my junior year, I willingly waved good-bye to a career.

I wanted only for someone to take care of me; like my father did—but not like my father did. The ball and chain had to go.

About my about-face, I could’ve blamed Jack, my boyfriend. True, he didn’t want me to go to college, but I was more than willing to oblige. My change of mind was gradual… or maybe it was sudden. But I was sure that I sought to hide and seek naught.

Still, it was March mania that really clinched my fate, and my March madness played right into Jack’s hand. I blamed my spring fever on the zombies. Not the undead. The British band. Their tune, Time of the Season, was responsible. That song put me on a plane of something sensual… sexual. Every time the song came on the radio, my head spun.

Was it the breathy voices?

The enchanting music?

The singer?

All of these?

None of these?

With the tune, I was entranced.

’Twas the season.

To say No to be romanced,

’Twas no reason.

Gave in to Jack.

No turning back.

You reap what you sow, and so I did. My reward for sowing my seeds was connubial bliss. Sooner than expected due to my lapse from grace I had to… in my book.

On just an average run-of-the-mill day in July, Jack and I were married. Marred only by a brief shower, the wedding went off without a hitch.

I went home to change. My mother’s vanity had a huge round mirror. My critical eye checked out my reflection. Buxom, brown hair, boring, and more boring. But my eyes were blue, and I was partial to that color. Maybe makeup might’ve made me look marvelous, but I never learned how to apply it.

I removed my white gown and laid it on my parents’ bed. The white gown was replaced by black knit shorts and a gray-and-white striped top. After which I brushed my medium-length hair and slipped on my white sandals.

Off we went, Jack and I

Into the sky.

We two, we flew

To Puerto Rico.

Jack was stationed there

In the Navy. That’s where

I could hide my sin.

It was a win-win.

And let freedom ring!

We embarked three airplanes—to Newark, to Miami, and finally to San Juan. On the first flight, I warned Jack that I was feeling ill and in need of the throw-up bag. He assured me that I was not sick. Again, I urged him it was coming up. Strongly he reiterated that, that was not going to happen—to no avail.

On the second plane, I experienced ear pain. I had never before had an earache.

Sara, puff your cheeks, said Jack. Then pop them like this. Jack hit his puffed cheeks with his hands.

I mumbled, I don’t want to.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. The thought of doing that embarrassed me. Jack was visibly vexed. His snarly sneer, I had never seen before.

The third plane was ho-hum until we arrived in San Juan airport. I gasped for breath. I looked around, but no one else seemed labored. It was so hard to breathe, but I hid my discomfort.

The next means of conveyance was, I surmised, a taxi. I fell asleep. When we got to our apartment, Jack woke me up.

We’re here.

Chapter 2

Puerto Rico

Jack held the key and unlocked the door. I saw two rooms—a bedroom and a kitchen. It was a good thing I packed sheets because the bed was naked—no sheets or pillows. Also, no fan, and it was dreadfully hot. I disguised my disappointment with a forced smile.

Bad turned to worse as I looked into the refrigerator and cabinets in the kitchen. No food, plates, forks, or pans. And where in Hades was the bathroom? And the list went on. No telephone, no television, no radio. But an ironing board stood next to the refrigerator. Lucky me.

Food for thought,

With heat, no fan.

No food he bought

In box or can.

No plates bought he

Or pot or pan.

No TV for us to see.

No radio and no tea.

And where do I pee?

Oh pity me.

Where’s the bathroom? I dared ask.

Out there, Sara, Jack said and pointed out the door.

Out the door?

An outhouse?

In what day and age were we?

As Jack opened the door, I felt my jaw drop. There was a porch, and past the porch was the bathroom. At least it was a regular bathroom.

But adding insult to injury—

We have to share the bathroom with Joe and his wife.

I surmised I was catching flies.

Jack continued, Joe lives here. He gestured to the other door on the porch. He’s a Navy man too. His wife is here too.

As Jack used the bathroom, I searched my bags for my green sheets. I made my bed and I lay in it. Entirely exhausted, I didn’t hear Jack come back in.

Sara, you best go to the bathroom.

Best? I was aghast.

What kind of hoopla was that?

It’s dark, and I’m not going out there.

I planned to hold my pee until morning—maybe forever.

Jack contorted his face to a strange, sardonic sneer, but somewhat similar to that look he had when I had the earache.

Was Jack angry because I refused to obey again? Honor and obey… was that in the vows? I didn’t remember. I was too foggy.

But disobeying was not the reason for his sneer.

I see I have to show you how to make a bed, Jack said. You have to make hospital corners.

Was he seriously kidding me?

Oh mea culpa. Sorry.

Yes, he actually fixed the corners. I did not argue. Prayers and sleep for me.

In the middle of the night, I awoke drenched in sweat. The heat was ferocious, and pee wasn’t waiting. I maneuvered myself over the kitchen sink and peed a river. And despite the heat, I returned to sleep.

Morning arrived. I groggily said my prayers. Then I unpacked toiletries. How fortuitous that I brought them because the mister missed that boat too. While brushing my teeth, I realized I didn’t know where Jack was. I went out to pee.

Jack was my cup of tea. His very dark hair and greenish eyes caught my eye. He was thin and stood at five-ten. That suited me to a T.

However, I didn’t know why Jack chose me. Often he reminded me his preference to blonde hair and that all his previous girlfriends were blondes.

Suddenly, Jack barreled through the door bearing bags. He kicked the door closed.

It was food!

God, thank you!

But a bloop, a snafu.

I didn’t know what to do.

No forks, boo-hoo.

And no tea.

Pity me.

I zipped my lips so as not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, how was Jack supposed to know that I liked tea? For one and a half years of our relationship, we mainly walked the streets of my tiny town. Only once did we go somewhere.

I remembered the date well. It was the time of the season for loving. And I lied to my mother. (Liar, liar, pants on fire. My nose was as long as a telephone wire.) I told her I was staying at Jack’s mother’s house.

Au contraire!

A night of passion was planned—and not at his mother’s house.

We stayed at a not-upscale hotel. There was no bathroom in our room; it was down the hall. But there was a sink, and yes, I peed in it; and yes, it was the night of infamy. (Shame, shame, double shame. Everybody knows my name.)

A month later when I was three days late, I knew.

To lie

To cry

To vilify

To stray

To pay

To pray

I did go to confession. I included lying to my mother, but not the sex thing. When I said that I was sorry for all the rest of my sins, I hoped that, that covered the big one.

As I put the food away, I said, It’s Sunday.

Yep.

Where’s the church?

There’s a Catholic church on the base.

Can we go?

Maybe, but I kinda doubt it.

I had never heard Jack use that expression. Who was this person? And I thought he knew how important my religion was to me. Ding-dong, I was wrong. Was I on another planet?

Muddled

Befuddled

Troubled

I sat…

Disgruntled

Slam!

Out the door Jack went with nary a word. I opened the door to see where he went.

Slam!

Critters! Little lizards lurked outside the door. Never was I going to open that door again. I longed for a cup of tea.

When Jack returned, I pointed to the door. There are a lot of little lizards out there.

You best get used to it. He put down a box.

Best? Again?

That lost my vote.

That expression got my goat.

I wanted to cover my ears and spew,

La-la-la-la I can’t hear you!

I got these from the landlady—for a price.

Out of the box, Jack took a toaster, dishes, pans, utensils, and silverware. I put them into the white metal cabinet next to a big blue jug.

The windows had no glass, only shutters and screens—dirty screens at that. I cleaned them somewhat with a sponge that I found at the sink.

Between breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we had sex. It was no longer a sin, and it was pleasant. Jack was my only encounter with anything past second base.

Before it got too dark, I went out to go pee. Then I said my prayers and hit the hay. Still no pillows. Bummer! As I drifted, I pondered my not going to church.

So chagrin

Was it a sin?

God did know

I wanted to go.

In the morning with my eyes still closed, I said my prayers.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to scratch. A billion bug bites covered my legs. Those little suckers had feasted on me. The itching was intense. I remembered my grandmother’s remedy: spit and salt. It stung a bit when I sprinkled the salt on the spit-covered bites. Other than that, it was a soothing success.

As I opened the door to the porch, it was apparent that it had rained cats and dogs overnight. Wild horses couldn’t get me to go out there because there was a huge, ugly bug on the porch.

I contemplated peeing in the sink. But in that moment, I remembered the big blue jug. It would have to suffice. Success again.

Breakfast was next on my agenda—all by my lonesome because Jack went to the base. I ate frosted flakes and toast.

At least we had a toaster.

I vaguely remembered not having a toaster when I was very young. My mother held the bread over the flame on the stove with a fork or maybe a knife. I also recalled her yelping and running to the sink to run water on her hand. Tough times in a tiny town.

Breakfast was good. Thank you, God. I was tempted to crawl back in bed to get forty more winks, but I decided to make the bed instead.

Fiddledy, faddledy!

I knocked over the dirty ashtray that Jack left by the bed. As I swept it up, I had a nutty notion to sweep the rest of the floor. It was not difficult at all. A piece of cake.

Cake? Oh, my sweet tooth. I opened the door to sweep out the dirt and…

Slam!

Leaping lizards, it’s a snake!

Snakes in Puerto Rico? Strange. I learned in school that Puerto Rico, at one time, was overrun with snakes. They brought in mongooses. Was it mongooses or mongeese? I thought mongooses. Anyway, the mongooses took care of the snakes. However, subsequently, Puerto Rico became overrun with mongooses. So because I saw a snake, I wondered whether the story were truth or fiction.

Oh well.

Whatever.

I scooped the dirt in a dustpan and dumped it in the garbage. Then I decided, all by myself, it was time to relax. And there was nobody to tell me otherwise. The rub was, sans television and sans radio, what was I to do? The only book I had was a cookbook. Oh well, now was as good a time as any to learn how to cook.

But a steady stream of sweat befuddled my brain and cooked the book. I wanted—no, needed a shower.

Either that Joe person was a mouse or he was gathering wool. So I ventured out. The coast was clear. Wild horses triumphed. I kicked the bug off the porch, and I was off to the races.

Ahh! So refreshing it was. I felt human again, though a drowned rat was what I looked like in the small mirror over the sink. I put on my blue bathrobe, and out I—

There she was, the Mrs. in the flesh. She had beautiful bronzy skin, short kinky black hair, and was draped in a yellow robe.

Hi, I said and smiled at the awkward circumstance of our encounter.

Hola, she responded. That’s all the Spanish I know. I’m glad that big ol’ bug is gone. And I’m whistling Dixie… Oh, I’m Ally.

Sara.

Ally pointed to the bathroom door. We’ll chin-wag later. I’m sweating like a pig.

I hear you, I responded. Chin-wag?

She didn’t seem to be bummed out by sharing the oval office. I hadn’t been in the kitchen five minutes and I was sweating again—and dreaming about lunch. I tried not to look at the laundry piled in the corner; it was not a welcome sight. I worried about how I was going to do it.

A Laundromat?

That would entail venturing out into no-man’s-land. More thought was needed on that subject.

I was getting stir-crazy, and the tight quarters didn’t help matters. Talk about claustrophobia; there was no wiggle room in the joint. And room for a crib? Moonshine!

A rap at the door froze me in my tracks. A dilemma! Was I to open the door? It was not my modus operandi. My silly willy nilly ways, I blamed on my memory of the Rag Man.

My mother had warned me often that if I were not good, the Rag Man would come and take me away. I hid under my bed whenever I heard his call.

Adee-adee-ee!

When I got a little older, skepticism invaded my mind. But I still lurked with bated breath behind the door as my mother called to him. As he peered into my mother’s pillowcase filled with rags, he said, Fifty cents.

My mother took the fifty cents, but after he left, she grumbled, I should’ve kept the rags.

Hello! The caller snapped me out of my reverie. I assessed that it was definitely an American female.

Hello, I’m Gloria. She sounded okay. I live next door.

I contemplated inquiring if any snakes or lizards were out there, but I just opened the door.

Hi, I’m Sara. I’d offer you to sit—

I know, she interrupted. I used to live in this apartment.

Gloria was my height, maybe a tad shorter. Her green eyes sparkled. And my blue eyes were green as I admired her long blonde hair.

Jerry told me Jack has a watch tonight, so we thought you’d like to come to our house so you won’t be alone.

She had an accent. From whence, I was on the fence—Southern or something other.

Although I didn’t mind being alone, I felt up for the company, so

Okay, I said.

Great, I’ll send Jerry over around six. ’Bye, see you later.

Before the door closed, Gloria stuck her head in. You don’t look pregnant. Oh, and don’t eat. I’m cooking.

The door closed.

So they knew. My parents didn’t—yet. I considered spilling the beans, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I cringed at the image of their disappointed faces.

Dinner sounded great and perhaps they would have some tea. I ate a quick snack of peanut butter crackers and penned a letter to my mother and father. I mentioned not my condition.

Sweat streamed down my face and christened my letter. I pined for a normal New York summer. True, I hated summer even in the temperate zone. Not a sun lover, I stayed mostly inside my home. But it was no longer my home. To my home and my innocence, I bade good-bye.

My light-blue sundress was getting snug, so I donned brown stretchy shorts, a brown paisley top, and voila, I was ready.

At 5:45, there was a knock on the door. I hemmed and hawed. Was it Jerry?

Knock, knock, he said.

I opened the door.

He opened widely, his eyes. They were soft and of a medium-brown color. His military short hair was the same color. As we walked, I dodged some cracks in the pavement.

You won’t break your mother’s back, you know.

I dared a stealthy glance in Jerry’s direction to see a big grin. Amused, I assumed.

I know, I responded. It’s an old childhood habit. Old habits die hard.

Their apartment was roomy with a combination kitchen and living room. The furniture was metal with vinyl seats—not conducive to comfort. But I spied a TV.

There was room enough for a crib in the bedroom. And off the bedroom was a bathroom. I was green-eyed. I wished their place were mine.

I sat on the blue seat of the couch, far away from the big tan, shepherd-looking dog sitting in the corner.

I was not a dog person, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, dogs liked me. Sure enough, the beast got up and walked in my direction.

Mary Jane! Gloria yelled and pointed to the corner. The dog obeyed.

My God, thank you, I whispered. That’s not a dog name, I proclaimed. Mary Jane is a people name.

Gloria and Jerry glanced at each other. Gloria curiously rolled her eyes. Jerry smirked.

So, Sara, you’re religious? Gloria asked. Gloria heard my whisper? Big ears.

Yes, I answered.

Interesting, she said.

By her disdainful tone, I presumed she disapproved.

Happy are those who are called to His supper, I said. I feared I’d offended.

Gloria smiled, so I surmised she was not. Speaking of supper, she said, it’s ready.

When we sat down at the table, Gloria said, Church stuff is not my thing.

We did get married in a church, said Jerry.

Your idea, not mine.

Silence ensued, and it was not golden.

The air was tense.

My fault and hence,

I had to dare

To clear the air.

My father always says, I said, it’s not wise to talk about politics or religion.

Silence ensued, so I pursued.

"And I had a teacher who always said ‘A word to the wise is sufficient.’

As the