Waking Up Joy

by Tina Ann Forkner

  It’s hard to say what the most popular part of the fundraiser was. If you asked River or Rory, it would have been the fact that we had a beer for all the men if they wanted it—and a couple of the women, too. If you asked Bobby, it would have been the beer, too, if he hadn’t been flanked by River and Rory all night waiting to box his jaws if he so much as took a sip; so instead, he enjoyed a bottle of Orange Crush and ate a good majority of the fried okra all by himself.

  Ruthie was after the strawberry-lemon cake, but was as delighted as the little ones when she found out we’d also added watermelon wedges to the menu at the last minute. I couldn’t help but laugh when I caught her spitting watermelon seeds in a competition with children.

  The Talley children ran about being their usual unruly selves and showing off for the community’s children. We’d never had a party at our house, and rarely visitors, so the kids in town had long talked wide-eyed about the ‘haunted’ Talley house. We allowed the kids to show their friends the interesting points of the property, including a trap door into the fruit cellar, a ladder up to a low balcony just over the kitchen, and a tire swing in the back yard, as long as they stayed away from the caves up above.

  They even climbed about the fallen branches of the magic apple tree that we hadn’t had the heart to remove yet. I’d seen River standing near it several times over the past few days, an axe in hand, but never wielding it. He’d brought a date along to the fundraiser. I watched as Fernie and River found reasons to touch shoulders, legs, and even clasp hands occasionally, and I couldn’t help but worry and hope that it all worked out.

  My baby brother Rory and his wife Faith had chosen a quilt underneath one of the peach trees to shield the babies from the sun as it was setting, and I’d taken a short break to cuddle the teeny girl, baby Hope. She’d been born with squinty eyes that permanently looked to the side because in the womb, her brother had cut off some of her oxygen supply, but she already had a smile that made you want to give her one thousand kisses.

  “I hope you won’t mind babysitting these babies, some,” said Faith, cradling little Harley in her long slender arms. “Rory says you aren’t going back to the shop and that you might have some time to spare.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

  “We’re letting you go,” Rory had said with a smirk on his face. When I tried to argue, he’d interrupted. “Go live up to your name, Sis. Life is short. Then you die.”

  “Well, yes,” I said to Faith, passing the baby over to Nanette, who’d just handed baby Harley over to his mother. “It does seem like I got fired with pay from the auto shop, so I can’t use Rory as a reference.”

  She smiled. “He gave you a glowing reference already.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, unable to hide my happiness.

  Like I’ve said, who needs babies when you have nieces and nephews?

  “Call me when you are ready to go back to work, honey.” I carefully lay Hope on the blanket beside Faith. “I’d love to watch the babies.”

  River needed help handing out jars with lids, so I took a handful and distributed them among the children. The jars would keep the children busy catching fireflies when the sun set in the next hour. I handed out the jars in a hurry and stopped for just a minute to talk with Thelma, who was seated in her new fancy wheel chair, obviously enjoying the way that Mary Sue and Peter were flitting back and forth taking care of her. It is strange, but since her stroke, Thelma seemed to have finally found happiness. Peter and Mary Sue had insisted on becoming her unlikely roommates and taken over her house—and her care—as if it were their calling. They still held the singles group every week when Thelma was feeling okay and Thelma still helped us with The Tulip House for Girls fundraising.

  “The strawberry-lemon cake is divine,” said Peter, pausing to kiss me on the cheek and then leaning over to kiss Thelma’s.

  Like I’ve said. Sometimes a kiss can change your course in life. Bidding them all goodnight, I released a contended sigh. Everything was perfect for my exit. And no, don’t worry. No matter what anyone says, I was never really trying to exit this world when I hung myself, at least not on purpose.

  *

  At the lone stoplight in Spavinaw Junction, Jimmy turned west. We drove along the twisting paved road through hollows and trees until we came to the intersection that would lead us deeper into the country. Truth is, I was a little bit nervous. I wished I could scoot close to Jimmy and gather strength, but I was frozen on the opposite site of the truck. Instead, I listened to country music on the radio, as we drove further away from Spavinaw Junction.

  Eventually, we took another turn down an unmarked road that led us to an attractive looking building that was all lit up and surrounded by gardens and out-buildings. My heart seemed to leap out of my chest, but for different reasons than it usually did when Jimmy was around.

  Maybe this is a mistake.

  Jimmy helped me out of the truck and collected my bags. We stood on the big front porch decked with barrels overflowing with colorful pink petunias. He planted a light kiss on my cheek, which made me wish I could smile. Would I ever get used to having Jimmy around?

  “Are you sure you want to do this? Because we can leave right now. I’m behind you either way.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to leave. This is something I should’ve done years ago.”

  “And you’re sure they’re expecting you?”

  “Yes, I talked to the board director who connected me with the counselor in residence just this afternoon. It’s all set.”

  He set my bags down and drew me into his arms. “Look, Joy.” His voice was low and soothing. “I know I encouraged you to face the past, I didn’t really mean you had to go this far. You don’t have to do this.”

  “But I do,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice filled with skepticism. “But if you aren’t home in a month, Joy Talley, I am gathering up your brothers and we’re coming to carry you right out of this place.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Deal.”

  When he was finally satisfied I was staying there, he turned to the heavy ornate red-painted door with an elaborate ring of dried flowers hanging from it and rang the bell. After a while, we heard some shuffling inside and a bolt clicked. The door creaked open and a woman in her sixties with red hair and a hot pink sweat suit peeked out.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I said. I am here to check myself in.”

  “You must be Joy Talley,” she exclaimed. “We’ve all been waiting to meet you. Come in. Come in.”

  We stepped into the entryway and I admired the blue and white tiled floor. She ushered me into a living room where perhaps a dozen young women and girls sat around wearing sweats and pajamas.

  “Girls. She’s here. This is Joy Talley.”

  “Hi, Joy.” They echoed.

  The red-haired woman turned to me and held out her hand. “I’m Barbara,” she said. “Welcome to The Tulip House for Girls.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‡

  I admit it’s not every day that a grown woman, okay, a middle-aged woman, checks herself into a home for troubled girls, but I was still a troubled girl inside. And besides that, I refused to even consider that I was really off my rocker. Sure, I had problems, if that’s what you call having a ghost father, realistic visions during my coma, and a house full of teas, charmed chocolates, and—up until the night of the twister—enough luck charms hidden in a medieval-style chimney that we could have opened a shop painted blue and decorated with moons and stars, but as I got to know the girls living at the house over the next few weeks, I would learn it could have been much worse for me.

  I’d kept my secret for so long that I almost started to think I was the only one with such a dark problem, but as the girls told me their stories, I realized I could’ve had to live their lives. At first I wasn’t sure if they would accept me or not. It could have been a bit awkward with my being a little bit old—in their t
een minds, totally ancient—but since the folks who ran the home had gotten to know me through the fundraisers I’d been facilitating, they decided to make an exception for my strange request.

  “I knew your mother, Bess. She was special to us here.”

  “I remember the work she did to help,” I said. “I just wish I’d paid attention to it when she was alive.”

  “You are now.” Barbara smiled a big glittery grin.

  At the Tulip House, I had my own room and unlike the girls, I could leave the house without a chaperone at any time without permission from a parent or from the state. Although, after my first counseling session, when I hinted at my problems, they highly discouraged my leaving before the thirty days were up. At times, I longed to leave and find comfort with my sisters, even my brothers, but I stuck to it. The only escape I allowed myself were a couple of phone calls.

  Carey: “Joy, I am sorry! I feel like this is all my fault. I didn’t really mean you should go to a place like that. Please come home.”

  Nanette: “Sis, is this because I didn’t take up for you enough from Carey? I’m sorry.”

  River: “Are you nuts? You need to get your ass back home and be with the people who really care about you.”

  Rory: “I’m surprised you did this all by yourself, Joy. You know I wouldn’t have let you go. Call me if you need me to break you out.”

  Jimmy: “I love you.” And not even a word about what my stay here might do to him.

  Be still my heart.

  Jimmy’s comment sent me back a few years to the warm banks and cool waters of Spavinaw Junction Creek, reminding me that the issues I wanted to deal with happened when I was about the same age as these girls. Maybe I was nuts, but this was the right thing. Besides, the only home like The Tulip House for adults was a hundred miles away and for more serious mental issues. Me? I didn’t need that, as Doc had explained to me when I confessed my past to him. He had put on his doctor hat and assured me I wasn’t crazy, helped me make the call to the Tulip House, and gave me a kiss goodbye.

  Oh, Doc. I will miss you.

  The emotion on Doc’s face when I broke it off had shocked me. I don’t know why, but the realization that he loved me was a surprise. Sadly, it hadn’t changed my heart.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he had said.

  “So are you,” I told him, but he looked doubtful, completely unaware of what a desirable man he was. He would have a girlfriend in no time, I had no doubt.

  Me? I did think I would be fine. My stay was almost like a little vacation. It wasn’t all relaxing, of course, but I enjoyed the change of scenery. I was given more responsibility around the house than the girls, since obviously I was more mature than them, but sometimes when we sat in group sessions and I listened to their stories, I realized they were wise way beyond their years, and many of them beyond mine. It made me wonder how such smart girls could end up there. I said as much in a group session one day, as we all sat around on couches in the den.

  A brooding pregnant girl with pig tales turned the tables on me and said, “A bunch of us have been wondering the same thing about you.”

  I gave her a sad smile. “That’s fair,” I said. “I guess it’s time to tell y’all my story, but it isn’t easy to talk about it.”

  The girl said, “It’ll be okay. We’ve been where you are. You can trust us.”

  Saddened by the girl’s stark honesty, something inside me broke open.

  “Okay,” I began, my voice stronger than I would have expected, considering what I was about to say. “On the day that it happened, I was late meeting Jimmy at the creek.”

  *

  When I pulled into the parking area at the creek, there was a truck parked beside Jimmy’s and I remember hoping he’d made it to our spot before some fisherman took it first. I locked my car, anxious to get to him. He was supposed to bring the fishing rods, so I pulled out a blanket, a picnic lunch, and a couple of bottles of orange pop. Orange Crush was Jimmy’s favorite back then.

  Excited to see Jimmy, I jogged down the trail. When I got close, I saw his long wavy hair showing from beneath his ball cap and was about to call out when I heard yelling.

  Hurrying through the trees, I saw Jimmy and his dad up ahead standing on the creek bank.

  Why is his dad here?

  I’d seen his dad one time before and had forgotten how huge and intimidating he was, but he had Jimmy’s sinewy look and striking features with a wide chest and arms. I’d tried to say hello to him in Jimmy’s driveway, but Jimmy had gunned the truck and drove right past.

  “Don’t ever talk to him again.”

  I’d laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. He’s just your dad.”

  “He’s a drug dealer.”

  I still believed, in those days, that everyone had a shred of decency in them. What I didn’t know before the hottest day ever on the Spavinaw Junction banks was that while most people do have good inside of them, even addicts, Jimmy’s dad was bad, even before he started dealing and taking his own medicine.

  “Maybe he can change,” I said.

  “Evil people can’t change. Don’t talk to him. Ever. And don’t ever come to the house looking for me. I shouldn’t have brought you. Now he knows what you look like.”

  “Jimmy—” I protested, still not grasping why Jimmy was being so over-protective.

  Jimmy’s eyes had turned steely. “Promise me.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Promise.”

  Now, my stomach flip-flopped to see his dad, a wicked gleam in his red-rimmed eyes set in a hollow face, towering over Jimmy. His muscles rippled through his shirt, a menacing sign of his physical strength over Jimmy’s, while his hairy waist peeking out of his too short T-shirt had a malnourished look to it. I hadn’t noticed that he looked like an addict before, but now I wondered. Was he high on some kind of drug at that very moment?

  I paused behind a tree, peeked out. Jimmy stood tall, his chest out, ready to defend but when his dad started swinging, Jimmy cowered like a child, as if he’d been the brunt of this kind of beating before. I wanted to run and help, but I was so scared.

  Come on, Jimmy. Get up.

  The gravel beneath them crunched. I didn’t know what to do as Jimmy’s face opened up, blood puffing into bruises and trickling out of his nose.

  Holy Cow!

  At one point he clamped Jimmy’s neck between his bare hands and Jimmy struggled for breath. Despite the terrified wobble in my knees, I was about to throw caution to the wind and run out when his dad let go, throwing Jimmy backwards.

  “I’ll ask you one more time, where did you put it?”

  Put what?

  Jimmy looked up from his hands and knees. Blood spat from his mouth and splattered red on the smooth, pale rocks.

  “I told you. I didn’t take your stuff. I don’t even use drugs, Dad.”

  His dad growled. “Now that you’re dating that red-headed slut, you getting all high and mighty on me, boy? You sell it to her?”

  “She’s not that kind of girl.”

  Jimmy stood, slowly, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his forearm. The front of his white T-shirt was splattered with red dots.

  I’m going to throw up.

  I nearly cheered when Jimmy took a surprise swing. His dad spat a tooth, ran his tongue over where it used to be, but he still stood like an oak, angrier than before.

  The blow to Jimmy’s face was swift. I blocked a scream with my fist. Jimmy tottered to the side and fell on the ground. My heart pounded like the locomotive that went through Spavinaw Junction every afternoon. All was quiet for a moment, then a grunt and more stomps across the gravel coming in my direction. The locomotive in my chest crashed. Even in my nightmares of falling into the spring, I had never felt that kind of fear—the kind that spikes into your chest and draws down through your belly and legs, and I haven’t felt it since.

  In an instant, Jimmy’s dad strode past my tree towards the far away parking area. I froze. He hadn’t seen m
e, so I waited. When I heard a motor engine roar to life in the distance, I bolted towards Jimmy’s limp body lying on the creek bank. He lay twisted, like a ragdoll discarded by a toddler, and his long beautiful hair splayed on the rocks, a dark, damp, velvet lock of it covering his face.

  “Jimmy.”

  I knelt, gently nudging his shoulder. His beautiful Cherokee skin was snow white, which wasn’t normal at all. I placed my hand on his chest and was relieved to feel his heart beating, but he wasn’t breathing anymore. Illustrations of how to administer CPR that I’d seen in a library book ran through my mind. I sealed his mouth with mine, hoping I was doing the right thing, and breathed into him.

  I was so busy trying to get him to stir that I didn’t even hear the truck still idling in the distance, or the crunch of gravel behind me, until long fingers wrapped around the back of my neck like a vice.

  I sucked in emptiness, drowning in midair.

  This can’t be real.

  I didn’t have time to cry, or to reflect on how the situation resembled the crime novels that Nanette liked to read. All I can say is that for the rest of my life, I never read anything if it wasn’t romantic and filled only with problems that were easily fixed by dashing heroes. Once you meet a real villain, it ruins suspense novels for you.

  The villain in my all too real story jerked me like a puppet, my legs and arms flailing. A hand wrapped around my thigh and carried me through the trees where branches snagged my hair. I grabbed frantically at the tree trunks with my free arm, but I couldn’t grasp any of them. The foul odor of what I thought must be whiskey, mixed with sweat, wreaked through my nostrils and I tried to hold my breath. His strength was super human. I tried to cry out, I really did, but as he moved over me like a storm cloud, he pressed his hand over my mouth. With each movement, my breath was taken, my innocence stolen.

  I lay in the trees afterwards like the crushed beer cans discarded by partying teenagers on the forest floor around me.