Home for Erring and Outcast Girls

by Julie Kibler

But what about these young girls, at the mercy of their bosses—some, from their own families—who took advantage when they had nowhere else to turn?

  Who was looking out for them?

  Brother JT and Sister Maggie Mae were a second line of defense, willing to take them after they’d already been destroyed. But only after. It was all they could afford to do. They were two people, with a small staff, and never stopped begging folks to give more.

  Clearly, it was up to her—and many more besides. She’d vowed never to return to the local after tonight. But now she knew she’d attend more meetings after all, and others all over town, if they’d have her. If they could give up money for frivolous entertainment, they could dig deeper. They could raise money to help girls like Nora too. The AFL representative, she suspected, would approve.

  The door rattled and Docie sprang up. She ran to press her shoulders into the chair, which she’d propped under the knob again, as if she could keep anyone out with her tiny frame.

  “Let me in,” a gruff voice called.

  “Hold on!” Mattie hollered. She looked at Docie. “Was Nora’s stepfather here earlier?”

  Docie nodded. “Nora pounded on the door, yelling for you. He was chasing her, shouting she couldn’t run off. And that—that nobody would want her now anyway.”

  Mattie cringed.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I let her in and tried to close the door, but he kept pushing. Finally, I said if he didn’t leave, I’d…” Docie blushed.

  “She hit him over the head with the chair,” Nora said. “I thought she’d killed him at first, but he just stumbled around and then went off down the stairs. You scared us coming up.”

  “You hit him? With the chair?” Mattie struggled to even picture it.

  Docie’s face went redder. “I’m not sure what came over me, but I knocked him flat.”

  “Good girl, Docie,” Mattie said. “Your mama taught you right.”

  She sighed. The pounding on the door continued. “That’s only my husband. Let him in.”

  Pat got as far as the living room. He pulled his cap off and scratched his scalp. Mattie smelled him clear across the space. The fumes wafted as strong as if he’d bathed in booze. She suspected he’d been drinking for much of the day.

  “Wha’s all this?” he said, anger rolling off him along with the fumes. He was not himself—or, maybe, he was who he’d been all along. His face was dark with fury and he gazed at the girls as if he wanted to hit someone.

  “Pat, it’s just a girl from the union. And one from home—from my home. Come to visit.”

  “I know who she is,” Pat said.

  Docie interrupted. “He was here when I came to find you after the parade. He said to stay, because the fairgrounds were no place for any woman to go alone.”

  “That’s true,” Mattie said. “And it’s lucky you were here for Nora.”

  Pat had done one thing right today.

  “That other girl wasn’t here when I left,” Pat said. “We ain’t running a charity.”

  Mattie kept her voice measured, for she heard a vague threat beneath Pat’s words. “She was hurt. They’ll both stay tonight.”

  “They will, huh? I figured your boyfriend would take up any extra space.”

  Mattie gasped, and Docie’s head snapped up. Nora dropped hers. But Jim was not Mattie’s boyfriend. And Nora didn’t know how she’d spent the evening.

  “Pat? Why would you say that?”

  “I saw you tonight.”

  Docie’s eyes suddenly filled with dread, and maybe guilt. “I was so worried about you, Aunty Mat,” she said. “He said you’d been gone too long, and that he’d find you.”

  “The fairgrounds were nearly empty when I got there. Someone said the party had moved to Belle Isle.” Pat hiccupped. That small movement alone made him grab for the wall.

  Mattie knew by now what he’d seen. She didn’t want him to say more, not in front of the girls. She cared what they thought. She’d worried about Nora this morning, before Jim McBride had distracted her. She should have come straight home from the parade and marched to the laundry to check on Nora. “Sit down, Pat,” she said. “You’re drunk.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, woman!” Pat roared, and he started toward Mattie.

  She’d sat down close to Nora again, but now she stood straight up and stopped him with her glare. She wasn’t scared of him. Not one bit. “I’ll say what to do in this house,” she said. “It’s my house.”

  “I saw you whoring around with that fella. I warned him off, and he didn’t listen. And you didn’t listen. And I just…I just laid him out in the street.” He puffed out his chest.

  Mattie’s face went cold, and she thought of Jim at the corner, still smoking his cigarette. Was there any way Pat could have physically knocked him over, as drunk as he was? Or ever?

  “I was not whoring around, Pat. That’s not fair. Jim’s a friend. A gentleman. I’ve told you so many times, but you won’t believe me. What have you done?”

  “I know what I saw,” Pat said. “You all cozied up to him, dancing, kissing his neck. That’s enough for me. Not for you? Huh?”

  Mattie gaped, furious he would say these things in front of the girls. And though half of what he said was untrue—she had not kissed Jim—there was enough she couldn’t deny. Had Pat really hurt Jim? She didn’t even know the name of the hotel he ran.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunty Mat,” Docie whispered. “Mama said I shouldn’t come, but I wouldn’t listen. I’m always making trouble. Now I’ve really messed up.”

  Her guilty tone startled Mattie into action. “Nonsense! You’re a grown woman. You’re smart and you do what needs to be done. If you hadn’t, think what might have happened with Nora.” She turned to Pat. “And you’re a jealous old man. I should never have married you. I’ve regretted it since the day you fooled me into thinking we could have a real marriage. I’ve defended you long enough. You pack yourself a bag and find somewhere else to stay. This is my house, and I’m through with you.”

  Mattie’s heart physically hurt from the force of her words. She needed to sit down, but she stood her ground. It was braver and truer than anything she’d said in her life.

  Pat stared at her, shaking his head. He went into their room, and she waited, right in that spot. When he came out again with a small leather bag, she was there.

  “How am I supposed to find a place to sleep?” he whined, as if he’d simply be gone for the night and she’d let him come home in the morning.

  “There’s a hotel on every corner in this town. You can find a room easier than you can find a penny in the street. I’ll give you money if you need it.” She’d continued to keep the books. He was hopeless with money and math—except for subtracting years from his age. But she gave him generous pocket money, never stingy like he was about everything else.

  “Don’t need nothing,” he said. “But one thing you ought to know. You’re right. This marriage ain’t nothing. That woman at the fair? She’s always hounding me. She’s my wife. I ain’t never divorced her.” He chuckled, mirthlessly, mercilessly.

  Mattie was now, without question, an adulteress. But still, she remained on her feet until he’d let himself out, clutching at the walls to stay upright, and then she sank into Mama Stell’s chair.

  Docie’s and Nora’s eyes reflected what Mattie felt—disbelief, disappointment, sorrow.

  But also a strange kind of relief. They’d gone all the way to the worst places tonight and survived. They’d won, even if it looked as if they’d lost.

  Now they’d begin the climb back up again.

  * * *

  —

  Mattie ran a bath for Nora. Nora tested the temperature and shook her head. “Hotter,” she said. “More.” Finally, Mattie said she’d burn her skin to make it any hotter. She expected
that was what Nora wanted, to erase all evidence of her trauma. Hot water seemed the only solution at this moment. But it would be a long time before Nora fell asleep at night without horror creeping in. Right as she began to drop off, it would jolt her awake again. Mattie knew. She’d shared that strange sisterhood of uneasy sleep with nearly all the girls at the Home.

  Nora didn’t want to go to the police. Mattie couldn’t argue. They both knew it wouldn’t do any good. Nora was a year over the age of consent at seventeen and not a victim of someone from another race. The police, who marched at the front of the parade, leading the rest of labor, disregarded most crimes against working girls unless there was a colored man involved.

  Edward would say she’d seduced him, and in all likelihood, the police would take his side. Most painfully, so would Nora’s mother. She had never chosen her children over Edward.

  Mattie listened carefully outside the bathroom door for movement. The thought of slipping below the water, of allowing it to take her far away forever, had seemed soothing at one point in her own life. Somehow Mattie had fought through, more times than once. Nora would, too, but at first, she’d need someone to watch out for her.

  Docie made up Mattie’s bed with clean linens. Mattie would keep an eye on her there. When Nora finally dozed, Mattie helped Docie make up the sofa.

  “You okay, honey?” Mattie asked. It was her first quiet moment with Docie.

  Docie had told Lizzie late last night she was coming to Oklahoma for the parade, even if Lizzie wouldn’t. Lizzie had been so worried about every little thing, for so long, that Docie finally insisted on making her own decision. Mattie ran her hand down Docie’s trendy bobbed hair and imagined her journey wasn’t the only thing she’d done without her mother’s approval lately. She imagined Lizzie’s terror, putting Docie on the train in the dark, before dawn. It would have been too late for her to warn Mattie last night, and too early this morning. She’d had to trust her daughter’s intelligence and abilities.

  Docie had written Mattie’s address in two separate places, and figured, rightly, it wouldn’t be hard to find the parade. She’d brought money in case she needed to pay for a hotel room. She’d covered all the variables. Mattie smiled, listening to Docie’s assurance that she could take care of herself, and thought of all the other mothers who’d witnessed the same terrifying transformation as their daughters claimed their independence.

  “Aunty Mat,” Docie said. “I want to ask you something.”

  Mattie shrugged. Everything seemed laid bare now—practically in one day.

  “When I went after that man with the chair, something happened to me, inside my brain.”

  Suddenly Mattie knew what Docie would ask. But was it her place to answer?

  “I knew I had to help Nora, and I was terrified for both of us. I think he would have hurt me too. But when I hit him over the head, I wasn’t seeing his face.”

  Mattie nodded.

  “I saw Hugh. Mama’s stepbrother.”

  Mattie sighed internally. Lizzie had told her that Docie had recognized the man, subconsciously really, when she fought him off in Tyler, but Lizzie had said nothing to Docie since to clarify their connection, afraid to give Docie a concrete confirmation of what she’d long suspected had happened when she’d left two-year-old Docie with her family.

  “I saw other things, too, in my mind. Flashes of something…” Docie paused, shook her head. “Something awful. But it gave me strength I never had before. Enough to make sure Nora’s stepfather wouldn’t hurt her again—or me.” She took a quick breath. “Aunty Mat, I’m almost sure my uncle did something to me like what that horrible man did to Nora, when I was just a tiny kid.” Her brimming eyes asked if Mattie knew the truth—and if she did, for her to reveal it.

  “Oh, baby,” Mattie said. “Your mama always suspected, but she didn’t want to interrogate you, or put horrible images in your mind if not. She worried it would make things worse if you knew for certain. She felt such guilt for leaving you when she couldn’t care for you. She never left you again. Then you two came to the Home.”

  Mattie wondered if Docie would cry, or scream, or be angry with Lizzie. But she simply went silent, as if contemplating Mattie’s words. It would take time to process.

  Early the next morning, while Nora still slept, the operator put a call through to the Home. Lizzie had worried all night, she said, knowing something wasn’t quite right. Docie assured her she was fine, then put Mattie on. After Mattie explained Nora’s situation, Lizzie said, without any hesitation, “Docie will bring her. She’ll have a home here as long as she needs it.”

  “Do you need to check with Nettie?” Mattie said. Suddenly, saying Mrs. Nettie seemed unwarranted. Neither she nor Lizzie were girls anymore, and it occurred to her Lizzie hadn’t said it in a while.

  “No. We’ll care for her ourselves if we need to, but they’ll take her. You know they will. Pray she ain’t pregnant, but even if she is, she’s safe here.”

  Lizzie’s self-assurance startled Mattie. Where had the woman gone who asked permission for every little thing—the woman too nervous to leave the Home to see Mattie in nearly the most exciting moment of her life?

  But then Mattie remembered May. And Hugh. And way back, when Lizzie had lamented for days after witnessing a pregnant colored girl turned away at the back door of the Home. Mattie had tried to help her see the light—they couldn’t take a colored girl, the community would have a fit—but Lizzie kept on about it, more and more frantic, until Brother JT pressed his colleagues to fund a similar home for colored women, and Lizzie stopped being so morose. The Berachah Home for Colored Girls had opened that very year in St. Louis, and they often sent girls who needed it up on the train.

  When it truly mattered, Lizzie made up her own mind and nothing could change it.

  “I been thinking all night,” Lizzie said now. “Docie’s grown. Twenty years old. She has to start making her own choices, and I can’t do much about them. Same as you and me. We made our choices and lived with them.”

  “I wouldn’t call all of them choices,” Mattie said.

  “You’re right. Too many was made for us. But that’s why I want her to do what she needs to, nobody saying she can’t, or that she has to be a certain way. All I want is a kind, sweet girl, and Mattie, she is. Nothing can change that. She always pushes right up to the edge. That’s who we made her. Me. The Home. Maybe you, especially. She’s independent and brave—more like you than me. Maybe she won’t be scared to live a great big life.”

  Mattie sat with Lizzie’s words for a time. They’d need to disconnect soon—this conversation would cost her another camera—but she had to warn Lizzie about Docie’s epiphany, her questions, and what Mattie had told her.

  Except Docie hovered close. Mattie wanted to tell Lizzie about Pat, too, and about Jim, firsthand, not leaving it up to Docie when she didn’t know all the pieces. Didn’t need to know all the pieces. “Docie, honey?” she said. “Will you check on Nora? Maybe…give me a minute.”

  Docie nodded and went to Mattie’s room, quietly closing the door behind her. On her way, she dropped a kiss on Mattie’s head. Mattie’s heart contracted, so surprised and yet so thrilled to see how Docie still trusted her, even after all this time. Docie was still hers too.

  Lizzie was surprisingly calm. She thanked Mattie for her honesty with their girl. She said she’d known it was time, a while now.

  Then Mattie spoke quickly and efficiently about her relationship with Pat, what a disappointment it had been from the first. She told her how embarrassed she felt now to have been living with the man, thinking she was legally wed, while his wife still wandered the city looking for him. No wonder he’d insisted on marrying in Guthrie.

  And then, cautiously, but with pleasure she couldn’t hide, she explained about Jim. About how he’d been a quiet, constant presence in her life for months, never pus
hing his way in, all the while supporting her, knowing implicitly what she’d needed.

  The way she’d felt when they walked. When they talked. When they danced.

  Then she waited for Lizzie to judge her.

  Lizzie was silent at first. But then she laughed, great big gales bursting up through her, and Mattie didn’t even know what to think.

  “You know,” Lizzie said. “No telling how many women my Willis has married—likely more than Pat.” She chuckled again. “Mattie, honey, you landed on your feet. You ain’t married after all, and this Jim McBride, he sounds like he’s your one.”

  Lizzie’s simple logic made it perfectly plain.

  “Promise me you’ll give it some time,” Lizzie said. “Make sure this man is what he says. If you waited this long for love, you can wait to marry him too.”

  Mattie walked the girls to the train station that afternoon. Nora was content to go, of course, and ready to follow the rules of the Home—the same ones, still in place after all these years. There was nothing for her in Oklahoma now besides bad memories, and she was thankful for a safe and welcoming option. She didn’t seek out her mother to say goodbye.

  After the train left the station, Mattie walked slowly back toward her apartment, past the building where the local met, along the same route she’d walked every Monday evening for months. As she reached the intersection where Jim waited each week to see that she and Jeanette made it safely back to their buildings, she wasn’t surprised to find him. His eye was bruised, but not so dark anyone would notice it except her. He said he hadn’t bothered to fight Pat. He’d let him get his punch in and go on. It hadn’t mattered to anyone but Pat.

  They stood at the corner between their two lives, and she told him what had transpired after he’d watched her walk away the night before—for the last time, they hoped. And then she told him her history, of her terrible losses, from Mama to Cap, and how the Home had taken her in without judgment, and then, about their subsequent and repeated grace—especially when she chose to give up her second child. That heartrending decision went completely against what he believed about mothers and children being together, but ultimately, Brother JT had understood she just couldn’t do it. Even if they had their differences now, she knew she was still loved and welcomed by those who mattered most.