by E. C. Frey
Mariah leaned toward her gentle voice, then watched in dismay as the clerk drew back and dropped the money away from her mother’s hand. Loose coins missed their mark, rolled across the countertop, and spilled across the floor, pinging independently as they swirled and came to rest on the dirty floor. Mariah hated the way her mother scrambled to retrieve each piece, her shirt stretched across her hunched back and the outline of her bra etched against the aging material. She glared at the clerk, who vigorously wiped his hands with a ragged cloth.
Mariah wore her old saddle shoes to the first day of Sunday school at Unified Sunny Hollow Church. She did not know why she even had to go to church. Her people were peyote people. They expressed suffering on the Sun Dance pole—on the same pole for which they were massacred—not the cross. On the drive to upper Sunny Hollow, she had imagined a thousand ways to hide the obsolete fashion pieces on her feet.
She knew the mean girl, Tammy Pfeiffer, sported a shiny dime tucked inside her new loafers. Life was unfair like that.
Mariah was ready. She would not let Tammy get the best of her today.
But Tammy only had eyes for the new girl.
The girl tried to make herself smaller, but everyone noticed her. A sprite amongst giants, she could have been a lost dragonfly borne in on soft breezes. Impossibly small for her age, she sank deep into her chair.
Mariah wondered how long it would take for Tammy the Tank to squash the pixie.
It did not matter that the teacher stood in the same room. Kids were kids, and adults rarely interfered with the natural order of things. Tiny and fragile in her white gossamer dress, the new girl contrasted sharply with the modern pastels that surrounded her. Her Peter Pan collar and inverted pin tucks swallowed her as she picked at the light material overlay. Elfin legs peeked from her hem, white patent leather Mary Janes and lace-fringed ankle socks swung lightly against the chair. The teacher turned to the blackboard and Tammy shook her fist and pointed at the tiny girl.
Several girls snickered.
Oblivious to the brewing trouble, the teacher called for a prayer and dismissed the class fifteen minutes before their parents’ service ended.
Alone, twenty eleven-year-old girls from four different schools stared at each other. Soon, they would break into their matching school groups.
Tammy moved first.
She closed in on the girl, pulled her chair out, and knocked her down with a single smack.
The girl fell like a sack of flour dropping from the bottom shelf in Jim’s Sunny Hollow Market.
Tammy straddled her and struck her with large, balled fists.
The little doll’s face moved from side to side with each blow. Mariah wanted her to protect herself. Her eyes, vacant and resigned, stared through Mariah each time her head came around. Mariah knew that look. She had seen it before along the road that led across the boundary of the Rosebud Reservation, her father’s homeland, and she had seen it amongst her mother’s people, the Winnebago. It was better to fight for something, anything, than to die without trying.
Everyone knew Tammy was an overgrown bully from upper Sunny Hollow. Her fists were legendary. But this was different. The screams from some of the other girls egged her on. She moved her fists to the little girl’s torso, her swings harder and more exaggerated, her face a mask of gleeful determination. The pixie lay like a rag doll, taking each hit like she expected it.
So many pairs of gleaming eyes fixed on the girl, too small to stand up and too small to matter. It reminded Mariah of a beloved doll that her brothers had carelessly broken. She had cuddled its armless body, but it was impossible to love away the grotesqueness of the act.
She shoved Tammy.
Tammy whirled.
Mariah moved, and Eve and Esperanza pushed their way to her side.
“Watch out!” one of the spectators yelled. “The Injun girl is going to scalp you. That’s what they do. She’s a dirty Injun.”
Mariah ignored her, focused on Tammy, but Eve pushed the girl. “Shut up.”
“You shut up.” She pushed Eve back.
Tammy stood, whirled, and planted her fist in Mariah’s mouth. Mariah fell hard, mouth throbbing, tears welling, but got back up. Tammy tried to hit her again. Mariah was ready. She ducked and shoved her hard. Arms whirling like a pinwheel, Tammy went down.
Mariah fell on her. Anger swelled inside her, flowed into her clenched fists. She hit Tammy over and over, her face and the previous day clerk’s fused into one, the words “dirty Injun” swirling in her head.
The group of girls moved closer to Mariah and Tammy.
Tammy tried to lunge up at Mariah, missed, and fell back to the ground just as a beautiful, blond, blue-eyed girl standing at the periphery of the fight stepped in.
“Stop it! Everyone stop it! We’re all going to get in trouble.”
Mariah backed away from Tammy, who glowered at the blond girl from where she lay on the ground. The crowd quieted. Mariah had seen the girl before. Everyone wanted to sit next to her in Sunday school. She wondered why someone so popular would bother with her fight.
Tammy sat up and banged her fists on the ground. “What’s your problem, Fiona? That girl deserves it. She gets treated special. And this, this girl hit me. I’m telling.”
“Go ahead and tell. You hit her first. Besides, you’re treated special too. Your mom and dad make sure of it. For once, stay on your butt or I’ll tell everyone you started it. And who do you think they’ll believe?”
Laughter echoed through the crowd. Across the courtyard, the doors to the church opened and the adults spilled out into the bright sunlight. The girls dispersed and ran across the lawn. Stained-glass crosses illuminated by shafts of light played along the grass border. Mariah watched as each girl pierced the shadow of the main cross, Christ’s arms raised, surrounded by the outline of the lancet windows. When she was younger, she’d desperately wanted to hold Him up so His weight couldn’t rip at His wounds. She would do it by herself if necessary. But the adults told her it was the way it was supposed to be. Even then, she hated the way people gave up. She angrily wiped away a tear. No matter what, she would never allow herself to suffer like that.
Tammy struggled to her feet and lightly shoved Fiona. “See you in school, Fiona.” She did not look back at the group until she had rejoined her parents.
Fiona bent to help the little broken doll, who was still lying very still. “C’mon, Heather. You have to get up.”
“Is she dead?” Mariah thought of her broken doll.
“I don’t think so.”
“We better call someone.”
“You better not. She’ll get into more trouble.”
“Why?” Mariah asked.
“Because.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she goes to my school. Her parents keep her away from here. They probably don’t want the minister to know.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
Heather got up and straightened her dress, blood dripping from her nose and lips in tiny rivulets like a dressmaker’s straight pins. Skin peeked through tears in the fabric as she unsuccessfully tried to press the remnants together.
“Are you okay?” Fiona gently wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulder.
She nodded, her bruised lips turning up into a half smile. She tried to smooth a strand of hair behind her ear, but it fell again from its perch. She lifted her dress and the four remaining girls gasped. She was black and blue, but not all of the bruises were new—yellow marked the aging offenses. She quickly smoothed her dress. Her smile disappeared.
Mariah wanted to take her home and hide her under her bed. Her mom would let her. Her mom protected those who could not protect themselves. Mostly birds but sometimes dogs.
“I have to go now. Thank you,” Heather said.
“Where’re you going?”
“I just have to go. Thank you.”
They unconsciously moved as a group to watch her run toward a
couple standing with other parents. A woman bent to talk to her. The distance magnified her vulnerability. Mariah instinctively took a step. Eve grabbed her arm. They watched as the couple disengaged themselves from the crowd. The woman grasped Heather’s arms and pulled her toward the parking lot, her feet stretched in motion as they attempted to reach the ground.
Mariah shifted uneasily. The silence held no comfort. She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Do you guys wanna come over to my house? I’m just hanging out.”
Fiona’s blond hair shimmered in the high autumnal sky. “Sure.”
Eve and Esperanza followed.
That same day, Mariah, Eve, Esperanza, and their new friend, Fiona, watched people move into the house behind Mariah’s. No one moved on a Sunday. Sunday was God’s day.
Her mother’s rescued dogs howled at the commotion until Mariah retrieved each one and silenced them with a treat. But she could feel their discomfort from her room, their paws relentlessly clicking as they scurried from window to window.
Mariah and her friends traced the movements of people in each room as moving boxes and covered furniture found new homes. It was late when the doors of the rented moving truck shut, the sound of its departure final. Quiet descended and cloaked the hill. Mariah heard each dog slump into rest, their sighs muted in the fading afternoon.
Fiona tapped the windowsill. “That’s Heather’s new house.”
“How do you know?” Esperanza asked.
“Because I know her mother. She picks Heather up from school every day. She probably doesn’t want anyone to know about the bruises, but we all know anyway.”
Noise punctured the calm. Through the trees, they watched the little girl run across the yard. Her mother followed. The fence hid them, but it did not hide the sounds of leather on skin.
The dogs howled from the room below.
Mariah winced with every hit. They listened to the girl’s whimpers long after the noises ceased, the woman had returned to the house, and the dogs’ howls had stopped. They could not move.
“Why did she hit her?” Mariah asked.
Fiona shrugged. “Probably because she spoiled her dress.”
“She didn’t spoil her dress. Tammy spoiled her dress.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why do you suppose they moved here?”
“I don’t know, but she’s your neighbor now. It doesn’t matter anyway. No one cares. No one cared at my school. They won’t care at yours either. They never do.” Fiona said.
“How do you know so much?”
“I’ve been watching it my whole life.”
“Someone should kick her Mom’s butt.” Eve pumped her fist.
Esperanza frowned. “Someone needs to horse-stomp her butt.”
“I know,” Mariah said. “We could be a butt-kicking, horse-stompin’, kick-ass club. We’ll tell everyone. We’ll fix it. They won’t be able to ignore all of us.”
Esperanza gasped and held her hand to her mouth. The girls broke into awkward giggles that quickly died.
They waited long into that afternoon, until they could no longer hear Heather’s whimpers—until the only noise was that of dead leaves rustling along the weathered fence line. Heather still had not reappeared.
The memory of that day lingered like an unhealed wound.
Esperanza was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. “We’re going to the Rose Garden tomorrow. Like old times.”
Heather gasped. “Are you sure? We’ll have to walk by my house— my mom might see me.”
Fiona waved her hand. “Heather. Your mom barely leaves her easy chair. Of course you can pass your house. Besides, I’m not scared of her.”
Heather backed away. “She might still see me,” she whispered.
“So what if she does? We’ll take care of her.”
Mariah hugged Heather. “Heather. Your mom will never hurt you again. We’re going to the Rose Garden, like old times. Those are good memories.”
Fiona shivered. “Well, mostly.”
Mariah huddled closer. The memory chilled her. “Every day but that day.”
“Yes, that day,” Heather murmured.
The men returned to them as they huddled together under a bright disco ball.
“What are you talking about?” Gavin handed Esperanza and Eve their drinks.
“Old times.” Fiona perked up and caressed Gavin’s hand as he handed her the drink.
Brandon passed a drink to Heather and turned to Mariah with a glass of wine. Mariah thanked him as she took it, but he did not let it go. Startled, she looked at him. He exuded something primal. Mariah had never experienced such rawness. She recoiled.
“Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom.”
His eyes flickered briefly.
Fiona and Eve found her dabbing water from her face with a rigid paper towel.
Fiona slid onto the counter. “Mariah. You need to freshen your mascara. By the way, you look beautiful tonight.”
Eve put a hand on Mariah’s shoulder. “Get to the point, Fiona.”
“Oh yeah. We should take a picnic to the Rose Garden. To our special place. Jim’s does catering now. We can grab a basket, bypass Heather’s street, and hit it that way.”
“Bypass the street?”
“Yeah.”
The tears started anew. Mariah dabbed at her eyes. Eve hugged her from the side as they stared into the mirror. “I’m so sorry, Mariah.”
“What?”
“Honestly, Fiona. Sometimes you’re clueless.”
Mariah felt the heat of that long ago night burn her cheeks, watched in the mirror as they turned crimson in the harshness of the restroom lights. Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Fire” piped through the music system and taunted her. She dabbed cool water on her face but the vision of that night felt so close.
Her mother and brothers had watched as her beloved father had climbed onto the roof to hose it down, but the fire had found him, screamed and launched its rage upon him and their home. He had grabbed his chest and died as he fell from the burning roof. Their home was consumed and their lives destroyed. She had not even been there to help, to witness, or to say good-bye. Her mom had hung on for three more years, living in a tight apartment on the lower end of Sunny Hollow, but in the end had been defeated and returned to her husband’s reservation, where suffering was understood. Mariah could only rage against the vastness of that acceptance.
“I know,” Fiona said. “Oh my God, Eve, of course I remember. I’m so sorry, Mariah. I’m a clueless klutz and an idiot. I’m sorry.” She hugged Mariah and cried with her. “I didn’t even ask how your mother is.”
Mariah wiped the tears with her index finger. “She never got over losing Daddy or losing her brother in Vietnam. The Rez is full of brokenness. She fits right in.”
“Nah, Mariah,” Eve said. “It’s not full of any more brokenness than anywhere else. Life breaks people.”
Mariah smiled halfheartedly. There were shades of brokenness.
“Let’s say we get another drink at that open bar,” Eve said. “I’m ready to get shit-faced.”
Fiona whooped. “Now that’s my girl. Let’s do it.”
The night grew deep, the lights spun for hours, and the open bar and restroom remained the only break from their table. Classmates visited briefly, but the five friends never left each other.
“Maybe we should call it a night.” Gavin tossed back the remains of his watered-down cocktail.
“Maybe we should get another one. This is too much fun.” Fiona’s words slurred together.
“Well, I’m heading upstairs.”
“Okay, you do that. I’m staying right here.” Fiona tapped her index finger to mark the spot.
“Brandon. Ladies. I’ll see you in the morning. Are you playing golf tomorrow, Brandon?”
“Yes. I’ll see you on the course. I’m not sure who they’ve signed us up with.”
“Great. See you tomorrow.” Gavin bowed slightly and left the
ballroom.
Fiona snickered. “When the cat’s away . . .”
“Well, the cat’s not away.” Esperanza kicked her under the table.
“Let’s go to the Rose Garden tonight.” Fiona leaned forward excitedly. “The night is still young. C’mon. The Garden under the moonlight. I want to see it. I want to remember. All of our dreams and passions were right there. Have we changed so much?”
“Of course we’ve changed,” Eve said. “We barely survived that night, for one thing.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that. There was so much promise in the world. We were going to conquer the world. Remember? Maybe it’s still there.” Fiona twirled the white fabric napkin around her hand.
“It’s not there, sweetheart. It’s just not,” Eve said. “If you could see the horrors I’ve seen, you would know that we were just kids living a fantasy. Don’t get me wrong; kids don’t need to know all that truth so early. But we know it now. It was never safe in the Rose Garden. That lesson should’ve been well learned that night, before we ever left Sunny Hollow.”
Heather straightened. “It was always safer in the Rose Garden. Even when the world wasn’t safe, it was my haven. It was a safe place away from home. I could breathe there.” She sniffled. “I’d go there now, Fiona.”
“Really?”
“Why not?”
Brandon rose. “Well, it sounds like you ladies are taking a midnight stroll. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Heather reached for his hand. He took hers and kissed it.
Fiona kicked Mariah under the table. They watched him leave. Fiona leaned over to Mariah to whisper, “He is a stone cold fox.”
Mariah leaned back. “Ew, Fiona. He’s a creep. I don’t like him.”
“Have you seen the way he looks at me?”
“No. But I saw how he’s been looking at me, and he’s probably been looking that way at everyone else, too.”
“No. He’s been looking at me.”
“Fiona. That’s Heather’s husband. Don’t be stupid.”
“I would never, but it doesn’t hurt to flirt.”
“Flirting has gotten you into trouble before. I’m not with you every day of the year, but I have no doubt it’s gotten you into trouble plenty of times I don’t even know about.”
