Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy

by Carol James Marshall

  Maggie looked at Lisa, really looked at her. She then looked at the ceiling, the altar, and the stained glass windows—back to Lisa. The calm she was searching for was now completely untraceable.

  “I have no answer for you because I never asked myself that question.” Maggie now had that question deep in her heart; it was poking at her brain. The floor had fallen underneath her and all was no longer the same. Why would she believe what was said to her by a man? Why would she let men dictate her understanding of the universe, if they had no clue what it was to be a woman? It’s as if the tiger told the butterfly how to live. Maggie got up, gave Lisa a nod, and went home.

  Lisa

  Maggie left and Lisa knew she stirred something in her that needed moving. She had wondered about this God thing—the story of God and the church she had seen, but hadn’t bothered to go inside until she saw Maggie sitting there. In The Grey, there were logical rules, practical rules, set by Superior Mother who was not a deity, but a ruler. She claimed no divine inspiration and was voted in by the Mothers. The Superior Mother was elderly, had done many missions, and followed the strict protocol of the previous Mothers. She never deviated from the path and always choose what was best for The Grey. Lisa could not understand and would not accept why these human women, so gladly and blindly, accepted men telling them what they should do.

  Craig

  It was one of those days when the birds were chirping, the breeze was cool, and the sky was a clear blue even on Feline Street. If he stared up at the sky and ignored the depressing run-down scenery, then Craig could pretend that he was elsewhere. He could almost forgive himself for being himself. Almost, but not completely.

  He had the day off from work and usually he would spend his time watching a ball game and drinking beers—trying his best to forget about the world outside his front door. His days off were non-dealing days—not dealing with other people, not dealing with traffic, not dealing with anything that involved shoes or going out his front door.

  Today though, Craig felt a pinch all over. An endless pinching feeling that wouldn’t let him enjoy his solitude. The beers didn’t make the pinching go away and the ball game didn’t hold his interest. The idea of putting on shoes and stepping outside didn’t seem like a bad idea. It was the complete opposite of what Craig would normally do. But, the damn pinch didn’t go away. It kept at him until he was dressed and in his truck.

  The pinch got worse until he started to drive. The more he drove, the less that pinch bothered him. He drove and he drove, knowing exactly where he was headed. Craig went where he thought he could find happy. He knew he’d never be happy; he’d never get up, get going in the morning and really be happy. Craig couldn’t even get content. But here, with his shoes off and his toes buried in the sand, he thought that maybe—if he could stay here forever—there might be a glimmer of happy every full moon. Laying in the sand, listening to the waves, Craig felt the pinch fade. It left him and, in his mind’s eye, he could picture it crawling away and diving into the water. Craig hoped a shark would find it and eat it.

  Iggy

  Iggy woke up and looked around the back room of the shelter. He remembered everything that happened—the head shaving, the shower, clean clothes, and food. With the pill, he slept and slept without dreams. No sidewalk bothered him. No apples danced in his brain.

  Iggy’s insecurity got tired of pacing and waiting so it left, walking down the block, then down the road and up into the canyons. It would be back; Iggy knew this—it always wandered down again and attached itself to his skin, but for now it was gone.

  Iggy stretched on the cot and was content to lay there enjoying not being itchy. The bugs were gone also. Insecurity had left and taken the bugs with it. If Iggy could just keep the sidewalks from teasing him, then it would be a good day. Enjoying his stretch, Iggy heard whispering and saw a nun in the corner of the room praying. She quietly whispered prayers to herself while kneeling and leaning on a stool. Iggy couldn’t help but think that she was beautiful in her faith. He was sure lovely prayers came pouring from her mouth. Iggy watched her and he wanted to ask her to pray for him—to pray that the demon he had sold his name to would forget him, but that was a lie. Iggy knew he wanted that demon to remember him and bring him more apples. Whatever the demon lady wanted, he would give just so the apples would keep coming.

  Iggy creeped up from his cot and snuck out of the shelter. He couldn’t handle seeing the nun’s eyes; she would know that he would sell himself to that demon over and over again without conflict, without hesitation.

  Rafael

  Rafael’s mother lay in his bed with him. She only laid next to him, not cuddling him or smoothing his hair, but awkwardly next to him. She knew this was what she should do, but didn’t understand why. So, she stayed put listening to him breath. Maybe he was already asleep, maybe not. She wasn’t sure and wasn’t going to check. She would just lay there stiff and motionless until she faded into sleep or morning came.

  The boy ran from school again. He ran because he didn’t like change, she knew that, but didn’t know what the change was. It didn’t matter that the boy didn’t like things different. He couldn’t understand it and it scared him. Rafael’s mom figured it scared him because he had no spirit, no soul. A shadow cannot understand the light world.

  Maggie

  Maggie sat in her chair thinking of what the lady had told her. She really wanted to think about what that girl had said. She wanted to write it down, look at it, and remember it. But, this couldn’t happen because Maggie knew two things. One, that lady was not her friend; and two, that lady planted the seed of disbelief on purpose. It was up to Maggie to fall for it or not.

  Huffing, Maggie ate some chips, then ate some more chips, and continued huffing. ‘Why follow men’ was valid. Men had done nothing for her ever. Even the man that helped conceive her did her no favors. She would never look up to the man who brought her into this world. Why would she thank anyone that made her? But, to think about that question would also mean falling for that lady’s tricks. If your enemy shows you a clear path…is it really a path? Maggie chugged her tea and ate some more chips. She had made up her mind; she would think—really think—about that question. She would follow that path, but walk it while checking every inch of the road for potholes.

  Lisa

  She ordered the steak and sat next to a window. The anxiety she felt sitting there waiting for the cooked flesh made her almost leave, but the want of cooked flesh glued her to the chair. Lisa was being disgusting and she knew it. She sat repulsed with herself. One taste of the forbidden cuisine and she was smitten. There would be no man, child, or location that could sway Lisa away from the Mothers rules… except this steak—this cooked piece of beast.

  Lisa stared out the window, sucking the juices from the meat that lay on her tongue; she was completely seduced by the flavor, but paranoid of The Mothers knowing her foul secret. Would she be banished? Would The Mothers know she was a flesh eating empath? How much more vile could she be? Shaking her head, Lisa took another bite. The Grey had no eyes here. She had orders on the time and date; she was told that if all went well, then all would be well.

  Iggy

  Sat on the curb across the street from where Lisa was eating. He wanted to talk to her, but the sidewalk across the street was growling at him. He couldn’t go near her until she left and maybe noticed him. He wanted her to notice him. He wanted her to see him clean and bug free. Maybe if she saw him like that she’d know he deserved more apples. Maybe she would see him as more than a loco street rat. Maybe she would listen like the other lady at his school. The other lady understood him and let him talk.

  Iggy jumped up from the curb and started scratching where there was no itch. He wanted the lady out already. He wanted her to notice him. His time was running out; he could hear the other sidewalks hissing at him. He’d have to leave soon and there was no way of coming back here for a while. Once the sidewalk noticed him, it would take days for it to forg
et. A sidewalk’s memory was long and often one-sided.

  So, Iggy scratched and waited; the hissing was growing louder and he would have to leave soon. Iggy was marching away like an angry child, wishing the sidewalks would, just once, give him a break. Iggy marched along, not noticing the little blonde boy jumping bush to bush, carefully tracing his steps—following Iggy like a loyal dog.

  Iggy was too angry to notice. He was too angry to care if a little boy followed him or not. Iggy was busy wishing sidewalks away—wishing there was grass on Feline Street, wishing there were trees. Iggy marched and every stomp of his feet was a wish. Rafael jumped and every jump was a question he had for Iggy.

  The two oddities went down the streets, on and on, with traffic zooming by—with endless people spotting Iggy and Rafael, but nobody stopping to care about the man nor the child. Even the police spotted them, yet there were more important things than the homeless man and the child. Both were consistent on Feline Street, wandering and thinking nobody saw them. Both were so consistent that everybody took it for granted; they’d be there just like air.

  Maggie

  Maggie was throwing the trash in the dumpster next to the donut shop when she spotted Ignacio and his little blonde shadow. She whistled at Ignacio, but today he ignored her. Sometimes when she whistled at him he would listen and come quietly to her. Maggie never wanted to speak to him, she didn’t want to get near him or friend him. She looked at him with the pity that she looked at herself with. She and Ignacio were one and the same. Two people that were too ugly, weird, slow, or crazy for the world to want—too much trouble for God to care about. When she looked at him, she saw a male version of herself. She could end up like him too, she could be on the street talking to herself and nobody would stop to care.

  So, Maggie tried to give him coffee and donuts. Whatever was left over that nobody would buy anyway. Coffee and donuts would not solve Ignacio’s problem pero algo es algo. She watched him walk away and sighed “Yo tabian soy algo….” She saw the little boy jumping behind Ignacio. Maggie whistled to him also. She gave this boy donut holes almost every day. Maggie’s heart would sometimes hurt for the boy, running the street—unable to talk and nobody looking for him. It used to make her angry. If she had been blessed with a child she would watch her child’s every breath. She would kiss that child every night and sing to it every morning.

  Somebody had been given this beautiful boy and cursed his life by not caring. Just like Maggie was cursed for being ugly and nobody but her beautiful sister cared. Every donut hole she gave this boy was for her sister. Her sister would feed him. Her sister would watch the streets for him. Her sister would sneak him a winter coat.

  Maggie did many kind things because she knew her sister would want it, not because she herself felt it. Maggie whistled again, but the boy only had attention for Ignacio. She wondered why. Why would the boy follow him? Why would that little boy care? A child’s heart was an endless and mysterious thing to Maggie, who went back inside the donut shop to the yellow windows, old coughing men, and ceaseless smell of sugar. Had she been a pretty woman she could be serving whiskey to lonely men instead of sweet tea to teenage brats.

  Craig

  About a block away from home, Craig noticed that Dreadlock Guy was now Bald Hobo Guy. This struck Craig as hilarious. Who the hell shaved that dude’s head? Craig felt relaxed, the smell of the ocean was still on his skin and his feet felt gritty with sand. He had a big burger in his gut and beer at home in his fridge for what was left of his day off; he could relax now that the pinch was gone.

  Laying in the sand, it occurred to Craig more than once that he could have looked for Lisa and taken her with him. She never seemed to have anything to do. She didn’t have family. She didn’t have a boyfriend. He didn’t think she worked. She just kind of hung around Feline Street. Now that he kind of knew her, it didn’t seem like she was on drugs and she didn’t want money or sex from him. “Or sex for money,” Craig told his steering wheel. The steering wheel shrugged and so did Craig. He could have looked for her, but he was never really sure where to go. Lisa just kind of appeared. She just kind of appeared one day on Feline Street and she just kind of keeps appearing.

  Craig shook his head and pounded the seat with his fist. He caught himself thinking outside his box. He caught himself thinking of this woman when he shouldn’t; he knew better. History repeats itself and his history is long and lonely. He knew that nothing would come of this friendship with Lisa; he would still be a cold fish, the house would still be cranky, and Lisa would eventually find interest elsewhere.

  With that last thought, Craig spotted Lisa walking down the street. Her walk was that of determination, absolutely nothing sexy about it. She didn’t swagger or stroll, she just walked. She walked with what seemed like a definite purpose. Lisa had no curves—she was long, skinny, no ass, no boobs… just a walking stick of a woman. Craig laughed, he couldn’t help it. she was a walking stick bug with someplace to be.

  Iggy

  Iggy’s blonde shadow eventually left him when his stomach reminded him that it was time to go home. Iggy never noticed him anyway; he was trying to do two separate things at once while also pretending not to hear the sidewalks laughing at him. He knew he needed to get to his secret room in that abandoned building. It was away from the sidewalks, the street, and the other homeless that wandered

  The other homeless were dangerous. Years on the streets schooled Iggy on people. They always had a reason for looking at you, walking close to you, or saying hello. Nothing was free. Iggy looked at the other homeless like snakes. He never saw a person; he only saw snakes. A snake that would rape you. A snake that would steal your food. A snake that would cut your throat and take your shoes.

  Iggy stayed away from them. If one got near, he’d be gone before they had a chance to come up with a plan for dealing with him. Iggy jumped through the broken skylight and lay on the floor. He would stay here until the morning when the sidewalks were sleepy and sometimes ignored him.

  Lisa

  Sitting on the balcony of her apartment, Lisa had an excellent view down Feline Street. It wasn’t a view exactly. A view would imply there was something to see—something interesting or something beautiful—but there was nothing like that here.

  Either way, Lisa did find it kind of interesting. She sat up there, behind some plants, peering through the stems. On good days, she caught a glimpse of Craig, Maggie, Iggy, and Rafael. She studied the direction they came from and the direction they were going. Craig was always on the same freeway to home and occasionally fast food. Maggie’s life was a ritual of donut shop, laundry mat, and home—sometimes the grocery store and sometimes church. Rafael and Iggy were the ones that would pop up anywhere at any time.

  Lisa liked her balcony perch, especially at night. The cover of night and the street lights concealed the grind of the ugly city. To Lisa, almost everything looked better at night. At night she could breathe better, see better, and felt that all that lay before her was possible. The sun light made her feel brooding and hot. With the Mothers, there was never a need to feel anxious. If you did as you were told and followed the endless rules, then there was no need to feel anxious. Life was predictable. There was a schedule, a label, a time for everything. No time wasted. No time to spare. Going inside, Lisa closed all the blinds and laid on her kitchen floor where it was darker and cool. Tonight, she would sit up in her perch and study the street. The clock was going fast and it was time she started to figure out how she would get all four marks to End Point.

  She put her cheek against the tile, allowing tears to flow out of her eyes and drool to drain from her mouth. Her tears were meaningless and her drool just because. It felt good to lay there being strange.

  Maggie

  Her couch was good for napping. On days off, when she could stay home, she would get up, make her bed, and then endlessly nap on her couch. It seemed the correct thing to do; she wasn’t a lazy bones… she got out of bed, made her bed, and got dres
sed, so that counted as being productive. It didn’t matter after that if she spent the rest of the day sleeping on her couch, pretending to watch a novella.

  Maggie wiggled her toes, not having shoes on felt so good—to press her bare feet into the fabric of the couch, the cool fan air hitting her toes… no socks, no hot shoes strapped to her feet. The clock was moving very slow. She needed to go to the grocery store; there was little to nothing to eat in her house, but she would wait until dusk. Maggie knew she should wait until the sun started to settle, that way she would avoid the heat and hopefully the usual bunch of people she saw daily. Day in and out, she would see the same faces with the same stories; variety came rarely. Lisa, that woman, was variety. She was different, but Maggie saw her so often now that even her face bored Maggie.

  Craig

  Cool shower and cold beer, now if only the sun would set. These long summer days of endless light sometimes bored Craig. It was nice to have darkness at the end of the day. The night sky seemed like a heavy blanket on a cold night. It was a signal that you could now forget your morning, forget your afternoon, forget the day because another would come and the next day always came too soon. The next day was often the same or worse than the last. It all seemed like purgatory to Craig and the longer it took for the sun to set, the longer his sentence in purgatory was.

  Iggy

  The sun would be down soon and this gave Iggy some peace. When the sun set and the heat calmed down, then the sidewalks were calmer and left him alone… sometimes. If he could just wait a little longer, then he’d be able to maybe find the lady. He could find the lady and she would know. She would know and maybe she would listen.