let me tell you 'bout hard work (minimum wage with a baby on the way)

May 05, 2007 11:24

When Nica was eight years old, Nara Lohime deemed her daughter ready to accept the responsibility that came with the blessing she'd been given. For the next eight years, Nica became an urban legend of sorts; the tiny Taieri witch, a "better" option for women in need of emergency medical care. For physical and sexual abuse, pregnancies that needed to be cared for or...quietly got rid of.

As Nica grew, her understanding of what she was doing did, too. She began to understand what was going on; why she was doing this for these women. Nara believed, and taught her daughter, that men could take care of themselves and women had to take care of each other. And Nica accepted that, but something she had more trouble with, as she grew up, was the idea that all she could do was fix them up and send them right back.

She never showed it in front of them -- or even her mother -- but few things have ever made Nica as angry or ashamed. Angry that what she did was necessary, and ashamed that there wasn't more she could do. Sometimes she just wanted to make it worse, just wanted to take the woman by the hand and haul her to a cop. Make him look at her, make him make it better.

Of course, neither Lohime has ever believed in making other people's choices for them. So she never did it.

Sixteen is very, very young to burn out on helping people...but Nica started young, and there's only so much anyone can take. Samuel saw it in her before she realised herself; he pushed her to accept that she wasn't ready for it to be her life. He was cruelly callous in the way he articulated this, of course, and Nica stubbornly refused to listen because of that...until there was nothing else she could do but listen, and that was when she made the decision that would lead her all the way to Hell, leaving behind what had left her empty and what had driven her natural intensity.

Nica will never forget.

nara, narrative

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