by K. D. Alden
“Me, too.” Clarence backed them all up.
Mother Jenkins used the wall to help her stand up again. “This is all egregious nonsense! Look at my face, Dr. Price! Sheila Riley attacked me! After spewing the most vile language—”
“Silence, Mrs. Jenkins! Be quiet at once.” Doc Price turned to Clarence. “These women are all hysterical and bound to be unreliable. Now, you tell me what you saw, young Clarence.”
“Yes, sir. I come runnin’ up the stairs, there, an’ I round the corner and I see Mother J with her hands wrapped ’round poor Sheila’s skinny little neck.”
Doc Price narrowed his eyes upon Mother Jenkins, who began to protest. “Quiet. Let the boy speak.”
“Mother J’s three times as big as Miz Riley, but somehow’s Miz Riley sorta bounces off ’er toes and bonks her head into Mother J’s nose—just so’s she can get a breath, sir, on account of she’s bein’ choked, you understand.”
“Yes, indeed. A perfectly natural response.”
“An’ then I seen Mother Jenkins let go o’ Miz Riley.”
“But,” hollered Mother J, “she punched me in the—”
“Silence, woman!” Doc Price bellowed.
Clarence nodded. “I ain’t gonna lie. Miz Riley did hit her, sir, but it seems to me that she was still very frightened, fighting for her life. Seems a clear case of self-defense.”
“Thank you, Clarence. What I don’t understand, Mrs. Jenkins, is what you are doing away from the kitchens and laundry. You do not belong here. What is your explanation?”
“She chased me, sir.” Bonnie fixed her big, blue, innocent eyes upon Doc. “She said horrid things to me and my sister and she wanted to cut off my braids. She walloped Ruth Ann in the face and she got scissors, and I ran. I ran here to Momma, on account of I was real scared.”
Doc Price turned to Ruth Ann. “She hit you?”
Wordlessly, she pointed to her cheek, which still stung.
“And she chased you here,” he said to Bonnie. “An eleven-year-old child.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” A severe expression had settled on Doc Price’s face. “Ruby. Please assist Sheila in getting cleaned up and then I will examine the injury to her neck and throat. I see the marks clearly.”
“Doctor, you don’t understand!” Mother Jenkins broke in.
“Not another word, Gertrude Jenkins. You have terrorized a young girl, abused one patient, overstepped the bounds of your authority and then physically assaulted another patient, one known to be mentally unstable. You are done here at the Colony. You may pack your things. You’re relieved of your duties.”
“But—”
“Fired, Mrs. Jenkins. Go! Pack your belongings and leave the premises at once.”
“Doctor—”
“Which part of GO do you not understand, woman?! I’ll not have the likes of you here, mistreating my patients. This is a place of refuge and kindness—”
It’s a what? If Ruth Ann hadn’t been so taken aback, she’d have laughed.
“—for the less fortunate in our community. How dare you behave as you have?”
To everyone’s utter incredulity, Mother Jenkins burst into tears.
“You have not had an easy life,” Doc Price said. “I’ll give you that. But there is simply no excuse for pouring out your misery upon the hapless heads of these poor souls. It’s not right. It’s not proper. It’s not Christian. Now go. When you are packed, Clarence will take you into town and drop you wherever you wish.”
Ruth Ann found herself feeling sorry for Mother Jenkins. But then that made her angry. How could she feel anything at all for the old witch? Besides, she had all them bats in her behind to keep her company. And if she got real hungry in the future, she could always eat one.
Twenty-Two
Once Mother Jenkins and Clarence had left the Distressed unit, Ruby took Sheila down the hall to the lavatory to clean the blood out of her hair and get her changed into a clean nightgown and bathrobe and slippers.
Doc Price looked at the scarlet-spattered wall—it hadn’t escaped the carnage either—and removed his spectacles to clean them. Once he’d replaced them, he gestured for Ruth Ann and Bonnie to follow him into Sheila’s bedroom and have a seat.
“Nobody,” he said to the younger girl, “will be cutting off your braids, sweetheart. And if anyone should try, you let me know about it. All right?”
Bonnie nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Doc looked at Ruth Ann. “Is that the first time Mrs. Jenkins has slapped you?”
“No, sir.”
“Was it a regular occurrence?”
Ruth Ann shrugged.
“Did she physically harm other inmates or patients?”
“Well, sir. There was the Belt.”
Doc Price’s lips tightened. “The belt? You mean she was beating you girls?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was it for just cause?”
Ruth Ann hesitated. “Sometimes. But usually just if she felt like it. She got good at comin’ up with reasons.”
“Can you provide me with an example?”
This was all very irregular. Ruth Ann wasn’t sure she could trust this new, kindlier side of Doc Price. But then again, he’d downright gone and fired Mother J. She wouldn’t be ’round no more. So why not give instances of her doings?
“Well, sir…there was the time I got the Belt because it rained.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“All the laundry? It was hangin’ out to dry? But a squall came out the clear blue yonder an’ soaked it all agin. Mother Jenkins held out, sir, that it were—I mean, was—my fault that it got ruint and needed rewashin’. So she took the Belt to me.”
“Good Lord.”
He might be good, but He sure ain’t shown Himself ’round the Colony lately.
Ruth Ann wished she could shoot that thought out of her head, like a pigeon out of the sky. She was gonna get struck by lightnin’ for sure. Any day now.
Doc scanned Ruth Ann’s face as though searching for germs. “Ruth Ann, when you ran away, was it to escape Mrs. Jenkins?”
“No, sir.”
He squinted at her, and she began to fidget.
“Sure, an’ I din’ like Mother Jenkins, sir. But I truly wanted to go an’ see my Annabel. I wanted to see for myself that she was all right. Safe an’ healthy an’ cared for. That is the truth.”
She omitted that she’d planned to steal her back, that she’d planned to run with her far away and make a life for them somehow. Doc already had all that knowledge in his books; he didn’t need that extra little bit of information, did he? It was hers and hers alone. Well…hers and Glory’s and Mrs. Dade’s.
Doc nodded and sighed. “I’m not condoning it, my dear.”
Whatever that meant.
“But I do understand. It’s nature. Even a cow in a pasture will mourn and low for her lost calf.”
Ah. She was back to bein’ no better than a farm animal.
But she didn’t have time to think about it too hard or get offended. Because Ruby brought Sheila back in, and Bonnie ran to hug her. Then she pulled out of her arms and, when Sheila sank into her chair, the girl gently touched the marks around her throat.
“See what that bad lady did to my momma?” Bonnie said to Doc Price.
“Yes, my dear. I do. I’m very sorry. That’s why the bad lady is going away.” He got up and went over to Sheila, who had adopted a fragile, helpless demeanor. She looked up at them all and made big doe eyes.
Ruth Ann once again marveled at her mother’s ability to adapt to any situation. She found herself firmly quashing a giggle. But the giggle was rattlin’ around her insides and doin’ its best to bust out her mouth and right into the room.
She couldn’t allow that. Because what she was witnessing was a strange kind of power. It was the kind of power that people with no power created. The type certain women used all the time around men.
Sheila couldn’t headbu
tt Doc Price to get what she wanted. But she could mess with his head…get him to feel like an important doctor and a protective man. Someone she needed.
The giggle got downright squirrely inside Ruth Ann.
Because she might be feebleminded…
But she knew deep down inside that Sheila Riley didn’t need anyone or anything at all. Sheila was her own kingdom inside that scrawny, bony little body.
In the end, Ruth Ann sorta had to respect that.
“Does it hurt, Sheila?” Doc asked.
She thrives on hurt. She massages it and tucks it away for a rainy day.
“Oh, yes, Doc. It does.”
“Let me see. Is it painful to swallow?”
Best keep your distance, Doc. Lest she swallow you.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why did Mrs. Jenkins throttle you?”
“I just tried to protect my sweet Bonnie. That’s all, Doc.”
Bonnie nodded, made her blue eyes even wider and chewed on one of her braids.
Oh, my.
The giggle inside Ruth Ann turned into a tornado of hilarity.
Young Bonnie is smarter than I will ever be. She’s already learning from a pro.
“Poor child,” Doc murmured. “Poor child. All right, Sheila, my dear. It’s soup for you, and hot tea as well, for a week. Ruby will bring it to you on a tray.”
Hooray for Ruby.
But all Ruby said was “Yes, Doctor.”
“And, Ruby, will you clean up that mess on the wall, please.”
“Yes, Doctor. Right away.”
Sheila gave him a grateful smile. “The tea an’ soup’ll surely make my throat feel better, Doc. Thank you.”
“Of course. I must say, Sheila, you seem to be making great progress here at the Colony. Most wonderful progress.”
A twinkle of malice sparked in Sheila’s eyes, quickly hidden by downcast lashes.
Behind him, Ruby rolled her eyes at Ruth Ann.
The giggle tornado touched down in her stomach, then took off again and whirled up toward her heart. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to stop it bursting forth.
Then Sheila laid on her shite, laid it on extra thick. “Doc,” she said. “I know I got downright hysterical when I was fightin’ for my life with Mother Jenkins. I do feel bad. Maybe—maybe you ought to check on her poor nose? I was plumb out o’ my mind with fear. I think maybe I done broke it—purely by accident, you understand.”
“Why, that’s very thoughtful of you, Sheila Riley. I’ll be sure to examine her before she leaves the Colony.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Sheila said in those honey tones she kept stored somewhere in the recesses of her raspy, demon throat. “I sure would feel more at peace with things if you did.”
Once Doc had left the building, Ruby emitted a great snort before she went and got a bucket and some rags to clean the spray of blood off the wall.
Ruth Ann could no longer hold in her mirth. The tornado giggle twisted right up her gullet and burst out in uncontrollable laughter.
“What you laughin’ at?” asked Sheila, the honey gone from her tone and her eyes shrunk back to raisins again.
Ruth Ann hooted some more. “You,” she gasped at last, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
“What’s so goddamned hilarious ’bout me?”
“That diamond-cut filth what spewed out your mouth at Mother J, for one thing. Ain’t never heard nothin’ like it. It was so dang horrible that it was beautiful.”
Sheila grinned. “’Twas, warn’t it.”
“The chimney sweep and his broom…where’d you learn to talk so vile? Sailors an’ stevedores?”
Sheila went still and her eyes went far off and vacant. Then she brought herself back and gave Ruth Ann a wink. She chuckled, looking downright pleased with herself. “Never you mind.”
“I ain’t never seen no expression like that on any human face before. Mother Jenkins looked like you’d run a billy goat down her throat, an’ it was kickin’ her from inside.”
“Good. Nasty old sow. I’d a kept goin’ if she hadn’t grabbed me by the neck when she did.” Sheila put a hand to the bruises as if to brush them away. Her mouth tightened.
“It’s long past time that someone gave her a lickin’,” Ruth Ann said. “Put her in her place.”
Sheila gave a snort that turned into a bark, and the bark into a guffaw. “Yeah, no foolin’. ’Twas a right pleasure.”
Before either of them knew it, they were laughing…together. And Bonnie joined in. For a moment, they were a family—a mother and her two daughters, sharing a moment. It warmed Ruth Ann, wrapped her in an unfamiliar glow of happiness. But—
Bonnie! The poor child had heard it all. Ruth Ann turned to her, appalled. “Bonnie? Did you, um, understand the words what Momma said to Mother Jenkins?”
Sheila put a hand to her mouth, then smirked and let it drop with a shrug. “She’ll learn ’em soon enough.”
“Bonnie?”
Her sister shook her head a little too quickly, eyes downcast. “Well…I did like the part about how Mother Jenkins’s face belongs in her drawers.” When she raised her face, those blue eyes were full of mischief.
“Ha!” crowed Sheila. “That’s my girl.”
Ruth Ann tried, but failed, not to laugh again. Even though they really shouldn’t be teaching the child to make fun of adults. “Bonnie,” she said, her voice quivering, “why don’t you see if Ruby will find you a biscuit and maybe even some jam for it?”
“Okay!” She scampered off.
Ruth Ann turned to Sheila. “Momma…”
“What.” Her tone was fierce now. All humor had vanished.
“Are you all right? Really?”
“I’m fine.”
Sheila would never be fine. Not in any sense of the word.
“Took you long enough to ask, though.”
Ruth Ann sighed. “I’m sorry. There was a lot goin’ on. And Doc looked you over.”
“Old butcher.”
“Yeah—why was he so nice? To any of us?”
“Don’t make sense. I’m tellin’ you, somethin’ ’round here stinks.”
They sat in silence for a while, before Ruth Ann ventured a next question.
“Momma. How’d you know how to do that? Headbutt Mother J?”
Every line on Sheila’s face converged and deepened. She closed her eyes, rubbed the hollows underneath them with her thumbs. “I just did.”
“Nobody taught you?”
Sheila’s eyes flew open. “Oh, sure, Ruthie! You bet. I went to a fancy chokin’ school, where we learned cotillion dancin’ and chokin’ each other out. That’s where I learned to knee gentlemen callers in the balls, too, darlin’!”
Ruth Ann withered under the sarcasm.
“It’s where I got taught that if some asshole’s got you by the hair and is slammin’ your head into the dresser while he tries to get your knickers pulled down, you spray him right in the eyes with the perfume you pilfered from the five ’n’ dime. Let’s see, what else did I learn at the Chokin’ Academy?
“You see, my girl, I didn’t need your help that day you rode the turnips inta town! I taught my ownself. Afore I met your daddy, I had me a nice job keepin’ house for an older couple whose son had gone off to the big city, got married and stayed there. Well, he come home for a visit, he seen me, and he decided he’d like to get under my skirt. He waits for his ma and pa to go to market, and he wrestles me down on a bed. And you know what I did, little darlin’?”
Ruth Ann wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more. But she kept quiet. Her mother never talked about the past.
“What I did was wait ’til he’s unbuckling his belt. And then I gets both o’ my feet free and I kicks him so hard in the gut that he flies backward, clear through the window and down to the ground two stories below. That’s what I done, and damn, did it feel fine.”
“What happened to him? Did he die?”
“Naw, he didn’t die. He wished he did, though. Got hisself qu
ite a bruising. Had to stay there in bed for weeks.”
“What happened to you?”
“I got my ass fired. Even though his ma and pa believed me over him. They couldn’t have anything like that goin’ on in their household.”
That sounded all too familiar to Ruth Ann.
“When you’s in a bad way, Ruthie, you either lie down and take it—or you invent a way not to. I’d rather dish it than take it—if I got a choice. Learn from that. Aw right? Learn and don’t never forget it.”
Ruth Ann sat there for a spell. And then she admitted, “I didn’t have a choice. When I got knocked up with Annabel.”
Sheila closed her eyes again. She sat so still that Ruth Ann was afraid that like Lot’s wife, she’d turned to a pillar of salt. The room got so quiet that they could hear Mr. Daughtry breathing, a couple rooms over. They listened to the wind in the trees outside, the caws of a blue jay and his mate.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
Baby?
“I’m so very sorry. I know I ain’t always real sweet to you, Ruthie. I been mad at you a long time. I haven’t always liked you much, nor you me. But I wouldn’t wish that on even a nasty old sow like Gertie Jenkins.”
Ruth Ann released a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “Thank you, Momma.”
Sheila opened her eyes. Though they still reminded Ruth Ann of raisins, they now glowed with an unholy light. “Never you mind thankin’ me. You tell me the name of the sum bitch who done it to you. He gonna pay for it—I promise you. We gonna make sure o’ that.”
Twenty-Three
Sheila’s statement both warmed and alarmed Ruth Ann. While part of her couldn’t help cheering and wanting to plot out some deeply satisfying vengeance upon Patrick, any such action could very well damage her court case to stop Dr. Price from doing his surgery on her.
“Momma,” she said now.
“What?”
Ruth Ann hesitated. She had just, at very long last, come to some sort of truce with her mother. She felt, if not her love, then her desire to at least have her daughter’s back and work to punish the man who had hurt her. Powerful stuff. Promising. Addictive.
But what if Ruth Ann could win her case? And in the process, save other girls here from having to undergo that same operation?