by Cheryl Reid
I crossed the room to shoo her away from my bread. “Nelly,” I said. “You go home and I’ll take the bread as usual.”
She looked at me keenly. “Go upstairs,” she told the children. “If you stay in your rooms and let Mama rest, I will bring you some candy.”
They knew her promises were good and they gathered their things and hustled up the stairs. When they were gone, Nelly led me back to the table. She laid her fat hand on my arm. “You must be careful. His father was the same.” She made the sign of the cross.
I could not trust Nelly any further than I could throw her. She was trying to cover his actions.
“When I was a young woman, I would say something to my husband, what he should do or what he shouldn’t, and it was enough.” She slapped her hands together in the air and made a popping noise. She knew how I felt, and I could not bring myself to be cruel to her. She was trying to help me, even though it was in her son’s interest. “I learned to keep my mouth shut.” She leaned forward as if she were imparting a great wisdom. “Make myself small.”
The more she said, the more my face throbbed and stung. I wanted to take the bread to the store to embarrass him. “I was sleeping in my bed,” I said. “He came in and dragged me out.”
She sucked her teeth and shook her head. “None of them can handle the drink.” She patted my shoulder. “Not Ivie. Not Elias. Not their father. I tell you, stay out of the way when he is drinking. You come to me. You bring the children.” Her breathing strained as she stood.
“It was past midnight.” He had ambushed me in bed. I could not have gathered the children and left when I was naked and he was raging.
“You can come to me in the middle of the night.” She left me at the table and busied herself packing the bread in paper and into a large box. “I will make sure Elias is home tonight. I will make sure he is good to you.”
I wanted to cry, but I would not cry in front of her.
“Let me take the children, so you can rest,” she said.
“No,” I said. “They can go with me to the store.” I did not want them with her. I wanted them close to me.
“No, I say no to that.” Her patient tone turned sharp and she wagged her finger in my face. “You think you are something, but you will not bring shame on him or this family. If you show your face, people will know.” She yelled, and I knew the children could hear. “Of course he is angry with you. I see how stubborn you are. You had no one to teach you. You are a stupid girl. You go to the store, and people talk, and no one buys, and then you have no roof over your head. You think he will be easy on you if you make it hard on him?” She wiped her hands on her dress, picked up the big box of bread loaves, and headed toward the front door. “No. You stay here. The best thing for you is to heal and to please him. I’ll bring you dinner tonight.”
The screen door shut behind her, and I listened as the pea gravel crackled under her tires. The oven ticked as it cooled and the children were quiet. A few minutes after Nelly left, I went upstairs to gather our things. I did not trust that Elias would return calm and remorseful. He had betrayed me with Zada and now this. Even if he did come home soft and kind, I did not want to see him or him to see me. I had been humiliated, and the thought of sitting at the table with him, pretending I had fallen, that I was the clumsy mule and that he was the good father whom they loved and adored, would be another degradation. Marina would tease me about falling and he would laugh at whatever she said. I could not suffer that. I did not trust that Nelly could make him be good, or that she cared what happened to me. She only cared about her son. I could not trust anything. Elias had never hurt me before, and I had no sure footing to know what would come next.
The children played in their rooms while I packed bags of clothes and toys into the trunk of my car. I told them we were going to visit their grandpapa. I pulled a hat low on my head to shield the bruise from sight. On the drive through town, I cupped my hand over my cheek as if I were pondering a deep and important question. Marina asked, “Why are you holding your face like that?”
“I don’t want anyone to see the dumb bunny who falls on her face,” I said.
She laughed at my expression. “You are a dumb bunny. Tripping and falling.” All the way to Papa’s backyard, she and Eli sang, “Dumb bunny. Dumb bunny. Mommy’s a dumb bunny.” I could not help but smile at their glee, their freedom to laugh at me.
“I’ll try not to be a dumb bunny anymore. I promise.” And by that, I meant I would try to be strong and not forgive him. I would try to stay away from him, but even as I said that to myself, I knew that leaving him would be difficult. Where would I go and what would I do? As I drove across the tracks, I had to stop thinking what was to happen. For the moment, all I wanted was to feel safe. I pulled behind my father’s store and felt a twinge of relief.
I sent Marina in to get Papa from the store so no one would see my face.
Papa hurried out, wiping his hands on his apron. “What is this?” He touched my cheek. “Marina said you fell.”
I nodded.
He took me by the hands and searched my arms for other marks, as if I were a child who’d fallen on the playground. Papa’s large forehead wrinkled in concern. “Let me finish up with the customers.” He tousled Eli’s head of curly black hair. “Thea is here,” he said.
“I don’t want to see her,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I’m embarrassed.” I opened the trunk and got out the bags.
“Of a fall? So, you were clumsy.” When he saw my bags, his expression clouded over. He must have realized that the marks were not caused by an accident and that I had arrived seeking refuge. “Maybe Thea can help you.” He spoke low, his voice full of worry.
“Please don’t send her out,” I said, but he was gone.
I put the bags of clothes by the back door. “Let’s go to the water,” I said to the children. They ran across the field and their shoes were off by the time I reached them. I took off mine and we stepped into the cool river water. I held tight to Eli to keep him from going too far. The hem of Marina’s skirt hung wet, but I didn’t care. I was happy to be outside with them. We gathered stones and built a tiny dam in the shallows by the shore. We threw rocks and watched the surface splash. We sat under the trees by the water and made dandelion chains. I was grateful to be out of my house, away from Nelly and Elias and not working in the store.
Marina pointed east to the opening in the trees. “Let’s take the trail home,” she cried.
“No. We’re here to visit with Grandpapa.” I wondered how long I could keep her satisfied away from her father, and I imagined her anger if we left town and she never saw him again.
“I want to go home now.”
Already I could feel the pull Elias had on us. Marina would demand him.
“I want to eat dinner with Daddy.” Since his return, Elias had stayed late at the store, alone, drinking and wallowing, and Marina had missed him. “Grandmother is bringing us candy.”
I had to distract her. “Grandpapa has candy too,” I said. “And Coca-Cola. Go inside and ask politely.”
She pivoted away from me and ran across the field as fast as she could. Eli heard “candy” and “Coca-Cola” and he knew to follow her, that at the end of her run would be treats from Grandpapa.
As soon as they disappeared inside the door, Thea emerged from beneath the balcony. I imagined she had been biding her time, waiting for me to be alone so she could see the damage Elias had done. Thea had worked for my father two days a week since Aunt Elsa had died shortly after my wedding. Thea cleaned the store and his rooms and cooked him a few meals. Facing her was not what I wanted to do. She would know what had happened. I covered my cheek and turned away from her.
“Your daddy said you don’t want to talk to me.” Her voice was rich with concern.
“I’m not feeling well.” I stared at the river instead of looking at her.
“Why not let me put my eyes on you?” she asked. “It’s bee
n a while.”
“I don’t want to get you sick.”
“That kind of sick won’t catch me.” She touched my arm, but I pulled away. I did not want her to see me like this, and I was angry at my father for sending her out. “Your babies look good. Growing fast.”
“I’m tired. I want to sit out here and be quiet.” It was true. The long night, the morning of coffee, Nelly’s presence, and packing had worn me out. “I’ve been working too much at the store and I need a rest.”
“If you say so.” She stood by, waiting for me to give in and face her. “Your daddy never raised a hand to your mama, so I know you know it’s not right.”
“That’s not what happened.” I felt like a coward, hiding Elias’s misdeeds from her, when she already knew.
“You brought all this luggage to your daddy’s door, and you won’t look me in the eye.” She sounded irritated. “Some men think they can rule their house with their fists.” Certainly she had seen this before, not in her own home, but she was a trusted woman in Mounds, a midwife, a caregiver. “He ever done this before?”
“No,” I said. “It’s not going to happen again.” I did not believe my own voice. I doubted Thea was convinced either.
“It will if you go back,” she said.
I took a step away from her toward the water. “I’m here,” I said, as if it were a consolation. “I’m not going back.”
“You strong enough to stay away?” Her words landed the challenge at my feet. “I hope so. For your sake. For those babies.”
“I don’t know,” I said, angry that she would ask it, angry that I might not be.
“Look at me, Anna.”
But I walked away. “You can go home, Thea. I’ll be here now. You can take some days off.”
“All right.” I heard the frustration in her voice. “I’ll check in with Mr. Faris next week.” She walked back toward the store, and I was sorry I had turned away. But I was ashamed for her to see what he had done, and I worried she might be right, that I would not be strong enough to stay away.
I sat on the ground by the river. Papa came outside and scanned the field for me. He saw me and waved, as if to signal, Stay, take your time. He carried our bags inside and shut the door. I had no energy to move from that spot near the water.
The sky dimmed and the crickets began to chirp. The volume of animals increased as the sun dipped. The noises of river frogs and birds, of water lapping on the shore, made me happy. I had sat in this spot with Mama, watching the geese land and honk as they arrived in fall.
Papa could feed the children whatever they wanted. I did not care if he let them eat packaged cookies and cheese and candy by the fistful. They were safe with him and I was outside alone. I was thankful to be free, away from the stove, away from my house or any house. I was proud I had been brave enough to drive my children across town, brave enough to walk away from Elias. Lightning bugs flashed over the water and the sun dipped completely below the horizon.
That he had hit and kicked me seemed unreal, but all I had to do was touch my tender flesh for the truth. No one had ever raised their hand against me. I wondered if Elias was home, if Nelly had made good on her promise to bring us dinner and make him behave. I remembered his tenderness this morning and wondered if it was still in his heart, and if he felt guilty, or if his frustrations had simmered all day. I imagined him in the back room of the dark store, sitting alone, penned in by shelves of groceries, sipping a new bottle of bourbon and counting up the disgruntlements of his life—how he did not want to keep the store or the books or the employees, how he wanted to work with his hands and sleep past sunup, how I was not the woman he wanted and how he missed Zada. If he was drinking in the store, he would not even know we were gone.
If he had gone home, he would walk into a silent house, empty of the chatter of the children, devoid of the smell of dinner cooking, and absent of me waiting to serve him. I wondered how still the house must be without us in it and if he hated the sight of me so much that he basked in the quiet. I wondered if he felt regret.
My solitude was cut short as the children rushed out of the house with glass jars in their hands. My father moved slowly after them. They shrieked as they caught their first lightning bugs and each time after. When Marina counted more bugs in Eli’s jar, I could hear the jealousy in her voice. She demanded he give her some and did not relent, even with Eli crying out, “No. Mine.” My father tried to settle it. “Marina, Marina. Leave him be.” His deep voice counseled her and settled their fussing. Soon they were squealing with delight again.
He walked up to me, and I worried what he would say. With grunts and adjustments, he made his way to the ground to sit beside me. He said nothing about the mark on my face or my husband. He said, “I wish your mother could see them.” I wished so too. I ached from sitting on the hard ground all day, but I had no will to move.
“Funny how the boy is like you and Marina is like Gus,” he said. It was true that Eli was like me, quiet and watchful. Marina was loud and adventurous like Gus, but I did not correct him that she most favored Elias. A force of will. Even then, she watched me and knew what I felt. She knew what to do to make me react, and then she played coy to get her way.
“The time has flown,” he said. “I remember when you and Gus were their age. And your mother”—he made the sign of the cross and kissed his fingers—“she was here with you then.” Papa ran his hands over his face, maybe to clear away mosquitoes or to mask his emotions.
I let the children play in the field behind my father’s house long past bedtime, and I was happy watching them flit around, sprites with jars of glowing bugs. I expected Elias to drive up any minute and ask us to come home. Part of me hoped he would come and promise he would never hurt me again, say that he had been a fool and a beast and he would make our life good, but he did not. Around ten o’clock Eli ran to me and collapsed in my lap on my sore leg. Marina soon dragged herself to Papa and leaned heavily against him.
After much bartering with Marina, Papa opened the jars, and the lightning bugs flew out in a swirl of light. “Now they can see their friends.” Papa pointed to the stars.
Marina laughed. “Those are stars, not lightning bugs, Grandpapa.”
“You don’t know,” he said. “You never know.”
My eyes burned, staring after the bugs as they spread out and diminished against the dark. Marina’s eyes blinked heavily with sleep. I carried Eli, and Papa carried Marina, into the store and up the stairs and into my old bedroom. The bed was made and the room had been cleaned. A small lamp burned next to the bedside. Thea must have straightened the room for me, and I felt a wave of remorse for being cold with her. She cared for me, and I had pushed her away to protect him. What he had done made me small and weak, and in turn, I had belittled her.
I went to bed that night in my old room and felt the comfort of my mother’s memory around me. I thought I could make it better with Thea, once the bruises were gone, once I had my pride back. Marina and Eli lay on either side of me. My arms worked as their pillows. I stared up at the ceiling and followed the trails of cracked plaster. Marina snuggled close like a cat and tucked her head against my side. It was unlike her to want to be close and touching. She knew I needed her comfort, or else she needed mine.
The next morning, I woke stiff and aching from the bruises and from where Elias had wrenched my arm. Papa was in the kitchen making eggs and frying country ham. He had learned to cook a few meals since he had no woman waiting on him daily. He poured me a cup of coffee and took my chin in his hand, as if I were still a little girl. “Looking better today,” he said. “You will rest and I will keep the children. The store can close.”
But I did not want to rest, or lie in bed, or be trapped by four walls. I had packed the children’s swimsuits. “Why don’t we drive to the springs and take a picnic?” Ten miles away was a swimming hole made from a warm spring bubbling up in a limestone canyon.
It was Saturday, and we decided to go by Gus and L
ila’s and invite them too. From the store, Papa gathered peaches, a watermelon, chocolate candy, and pickles from a gallon jar. I fried a chicken and wrapped up the leftover cornbread. We packed it all in a basket, and Papa put a case of Coca-Cola in a cooler.
The children and I put on our swimming clothes. I checked to see if my shoulder strap covered the bite mark Elias had left. It did not, so I took a button-down shirt to wear in the water. Marina and I wore summer dresses over our suits. We piled into Papa’s Oldsmobile, and on the way to Gus and Lila’s place, the children looked out at the farms and kitchen gardens with rows of canna lilies and sunflowers and corn shoulder high. They counted horses and cows in the pastures.
When Gus saw my cheek, his face twisted with confusion. “When did you take up boxing?” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he chuckled.
“Oh, that,” I said, trying to sound flippant. “I fell.”
Lila had gone to her father’s farm to work for the day, but Gus came along. He sat between the children and played peekaboo, hiding his face behind his straw fedora. I wanted to tell him they were past the age of playing peekaboo, but they were in a fit of giggles, laughing until they almost cried.
“You have to stop, Gus,” I said. “They’ll get the hiccups.”
“You worry too much, Grandma.” Gus rolled his eyes and the children laughed harder still.
When we got to the spring, we parked at the side of the road and followed a path through spindly pine trees and dogwoods. We came to a clearing and the place was as I remembered it, the giant limestone boulders jutting out of the water on the far end, and close by, large stepping stones along the shallows. Marina and Eli could climb one to the next.
I took off my dress and quickly covered up in the button-down shirt. The water was warm, but a chill ran through my whole body. Papa saw the bruises on my leg and looked away. I sank low in the water. Gus did not see because he had scampered off to climb the large boulders at the far end of the spring. He got to the top of one, whooped to get our attention, and plummeted fifteen feet into the water. He swam beneath the surface toward us and popped up in front of the children. Marina screamed with delight. Eli clung to me and his face froze in a state of surprise.
