Love and Madness: My Private Years with George C. Scott by Riehl Karen Truesdell

Author:Riehl, Karen Truesdell [Riehl, Karen Truesdell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Florence Crittenden had been my home for nearly four months, when one Sunday in July I woke up with a dread feeling. It was the day I had planned to tell my parents of my pregnancy. Make a clean breast of it. Clear my conscience. It was another cowardly mistake. I should have wrestled with my conscience some other way than laying it on them.

I had written to my married sister, telling her everything. I included in the envelope a letter for mother and daddy, telling them about New York and George, but not about my pregnancy. I asked my sister to read it to them. It was one nasty task to put on a sister’s shoulders, but I had to prepare them for my call. My sister reported to me later that she had read them the letter, and it had, indeed, come as a terrible shock for them.

So, on that day in late July, with Phillip and Woolie on either side of me, I called Seattle and told my parents I was eight months pregnant. I cannot remember the exact words we exchanged, but I do remember it as an emotionally wrenching conversation.

I cried my way through the next few days, as I’m sure my mother did. The letter she wrote me was devastating.

“You have broken our hearts. We gave you everything, and you treat us this way. After all the hopes and dreams we had for you, you lied to us. You’re a bad, deceitful girl. No decent man will ever look at you now. You’ve ruined the family name. You’re no better than a guttersnipe. You must give the baby up for adoption and never speak of it again.”

That was that. I felt as if I deserved every word.

On the afternoon of August 20th I proudly purchased my bottle of castor oil. That evening after dinner, as my friends circled around me, I held the bottle high, toasted them and chug-a-lugged it. Instantly, I wished I hadn’t. It wasn’t at all what I had expected. Drinking it was horrific, and trying to keep it down was even worse. I wanted to lie down, but my conspirators reminded me I had to keep walking. They practically dragged me around the room. If I'd had the strength and the time between trips to the bathroom, I’d have slugged them all with the bottle.

After all my insides had drained out, and only the baby was left, the labor pains began. I begged the girls for mercy.

But they reminded me of the rules. “No hospital until it really hurts.”

“This HURTS!” I shrieked at them.

When the pains became frequent and hard, I heard myself cry for my mother, until I remembered that she hated me.

My baby girl was born Aug. 21st in the charity ward of Boston Lying In Hospital. When I opened my eyes, wanting more than anything on earth to see George’s face, I saw Phillip’s. He stood beside my bed, smiling at me. He looked almost comic, holding a bouquet of wilted summer flowers.

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