by Gail Giles
But I was talking to her backside. Time I got down to the garden, Biddy on her knees peeking behind the bush. I swear I see more of that girl’s hindparts than make me happy. I squat down and, sure ’nuff, there’s a fuzzy baby duck just a-peeping around.
“Ain’t she the cutest baby duck you ever saw?” Biddy say.
“It’s the only baby duck I ever saw.”
Biddy was off walking on clouds, and she babbled away. “Its name is Li’l Peep.”
I shook my head. “You named this duck? Biddy, I swear they gonna lock you in a loony bin. . . .”
Biddy kept on a-chattering. “You the prettiest baby duck in the whole wide world. Your mama gonna take good care of you, and you gonna grow up to a fine duck.”
She push her nose closer to the little duck, and Mama Duck snake out her neck and pop Biddy a good one. Mama Duck hiss and snort and cluck and quack up a blue streak. We back away and Mama Duck settle her feathers.
“They was a bunch of eggs. How come they’s just one baby?” I axt.
“The rest will hatch out real quick. We gonna have us a whole herd of cute baby ducks,” Biddy say whilst she rub her duck-bit nose.
“We gonna have us a whole pile of duck doo is what we gonna have,” I say.
Biddy kept watching Mama Duck and Li’l Peep, but I got tired of squatting. I stood up. “I’m goin’ back to sleep. I figure the rest of them ducks can hatch without me.”
Biddy didn’t pay me no mind. I’d have to sprout a few feathers to get her attention.
When I woke back up, Lizabeth was outside in her walker watching Biddy watch the duck.
“Well, Quincy, what do you think about the new addition to our family?”
I rock back on my heels and stare Lizabeth down. “Last time I checked, nobody in my fambly had a beak or web feets.” I stood up and push past her. “Or white hair and wrinkles, neither.” I couldn’t stop my mouth. “Nobody in my fambly fat and blondey, neither, so don’t be pushin’ you ownselfs into my fambly.”
I look at Lizabeth feelin’ kinda proud of standin’ up for my ownself and saw that old lady look like I done crush her face with a rock. I know how that feel. Then her face change.
I couldn’t believe my two ears. Leave it to Quincy to spoil things. Miss Lizzy did something I ain’t never seen her do. She got mad.
She turned to Quincy. She grabbed the sides of her walker until her knuckles stood out. Her voice wasn’t loud. No hollering or screaming from Miss Lizzy. She looked sad. But I could see her black eyes was hard and snappy.
She told Quincy that she tried hard to understand that peoples been mean to her and that Quincy always ’spected the worst out of folks. But she said manners meant more than holding a spoon right. She said that Quincy couldn’t treat peoples bad just ’cause she wanted to.
Miss Lizzy took a deep breath. And kind of run out of steam. But she said me and her been kind to Quincy, and she was disappointed in her.
Miss Lizzy thumped her walker and stamped past Quincy. Quincy stood there.
Miss Lizzy got to the door. She turned around. “And don’t step foot in my kitchen until you are ready to be courteous to me . . . and to Biddy.”
She went inside.
I saw something then I didn’t know what to do with.
Quincy started crying.
She didn’t cry like most peoples. Her eyes got full-up with tears that got bigger than Quincy could handle. Then they run down her face. She didn’t do nothing to stop it. She stood there, her back straight and her head up. Tears run down her cheeks, over her chin, and down her neck and shirt collar.
I didn’t know how to feel. I was full-up with proud that Miss Lizzy told Quincy to treat me right. I felt sorry for Quincy too. I know what it was like to have people talk bad to you. Make you cry. But I was mad at Quincy. She spoiled the whole morning. My baby duck morning. I wanted to push her in the dirt. Stomp on her back. And . . . and I wanted to pat her on her back. Tell her not to cry.
I cleared my throat.
Quincy put her hand up like Ms. Evans when she wanted hush in class.
I ’spected Quincy to run up the steps to our house and start packing. But she done something made my brain twirl.
She lifted up the hem of her T-shirt and wiped her face. Then she turn around. She took a deep breath. She looked me square in my eye.
“Biddy, I’m sorry I’m such a shit.”
Then she marched herself into Miss Lizzy’s house. Pretty soon I heard cabinet doors closing and pans clanking. I sat down on the grass. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.
In a little while I smelled cinnamon. I knew Quincy was making her Yummy French Toast.
She called to Miss Lizzy to come eat breakfast.
Quincy was sorry. I didn’t think that girl could be sorry for nothing. Sometimes you gotta wait a long time to find what’s true.
I was bad mean to Lizabeth and Biddy, and Lizabeth, she set me straight. It wasn’t so much she hopping mad, but more like she tired to the bone of my hateful self. I did my ’pologizin’ and made breakfast. Once the kitchen smelled of cinnamon and butter, I easied down.
I scrub myself hard in the shower, wishing that mean part of me could wash away under hot water. But I know it be deeper down.
I don’t get Lizabeth. Once I say I was sorry, she smile nice. Not fake. And she pet my hand. And I didn’t flinch or jerk it back. It was like nothing been crostways between us. I don’t know how to let go a grudge. It’s like it grows onto my body and get to be a new part of me.
Maybe when you live rich and with smart in your head, your hurts don’t get so sore.
It’s been two days. None of the other eggs have hatched. Mama Duck still sitting on them, though. And, Li’l Peep swimming around in that pan of water. And, they’re both eating the dry corns. But I’m worried.
I come home, and Biddy sitting next to that pile of eggs. She tuck a little blanket on them. Mama Duck and Li’l Peep was nowhere around. Biddy be crying. Not one of her snot-nose sobbing jags, but crying like her heart done broke.
I left her alone and went and found Stephen where he was pulling weeds in the front yard.
“Are them eggs gonna ever hatch?”
“No,” he said.
Two days later, when Biddy asleep, I went outside and buried them eggs.
Biddy never said a word about it.
I walked to the feed store to talk to the clerk man. I told him about the eggs. He said that the mama left them because they was probly “ ’fective.” I didn’t know what that meant. He told me that there was something wrong with them.
I got my money and went to the big Kmart. I bought Biddy a TV. It’s little, but maybe some cartoons make her laugh. I’m so tired of that long face. I’d be glad to hear her sing ’bout the Itsy-Bitsy Spider.
I wonder if my child knows she’s ’dopted. I decided that I’m not going to give her these tapes. If she don’t know she’s ’dopted, she won’t never feel like her mama left her.
Things ain’t been right around home. My head is addled ’bout Biddy and Lizabeth. Lizabeth been acting funny. Like she got a surprise in the back room. I got me a bad feeling.
It’s late. Gone dark. Quincy not home. Miss Lizzy worried too. But she said, “Have patience, Biddy.” She told me Quincy eighteen and free to do like she please, and it wasn’t real late. She said that if Quincy wasn’t home by ten, she’d make some calls.
I know Quincy wasn’t out having fun. She belonged home. I don’t want to go on them dark streets. I’m scaredy of it. Maybe boys being around. But Quincy needs me.
I got my coat and pulled it close. It’s big on me now, like all my clothes. I left out of the house and walked to the Brown Cow.
I didn’t look at nobody. I put one foot in front of the other one and kept on. When I got to the Brown Cow, I went to the side where ready-made food was.
“Is Quincy here?” I asked the worker lady.
The woman’s eyebrows went up. “She left at six. That
’s when she gets off.”
I know time. I looked at the big clock over the lady’s head. It said almost nine o’clock. My stomach hurt. I wished I could clean something. Quincy would come home and everything would be OK.
I left and walked down the alley behind the store. Maybe Quincy walks home this way. I went down that alley a ways. It led to another alley. That’s when I heard it.
It was a little sound. I stopped walking. I tilted my head this side and that so I could find it. I heard it again. A “mew” sound, but kind of, I don’t know, maybe a hurt kitten. I went down a side alley. I couldn’t hear the sound no more. I went back to the alley from before. I seen something. A tennis shoe sticking out between two Dumpsters. There was leg attached to the shoe. I run up and saw the worst thing I ever did see.
Quincy was curled up in a ball. Her bottom half was naked. Her uniform pants tied over her head. Her shirt was pushed up. Her stomach and chest was bleeding. Quincy stayed curled up tight, that one foot sticking out. Her fingers scratched in and out of the alley dirt. And she mewed inside that sack.
I knew how she felt.
I knew.
I knew what to do. I couldn’t go screamy. I had to stay easy. I had to help my friend.
I stepped closer but didn’t touch her. “Quincy?”
Quincy give a gaspy sound. Pulled her hands ’cross her stomach.
“Quincy, it’s Biddy. I’m gonna help you.”
Quincy got real still. She put her hand out. “Get away from me.”
I kneeled down. I didn’t touch. “No, not gonna do it. You need me to help. You’re bleeding on your stomach, and . . . other places.”
Quincy mewed again. I never heard such a sad sound. I guess I made that sound before. It hurt me to hear Quincy make it.
“I’m gonna untie these pants legs on top your head. You put your hands right here ’gainst mine so you know that’s what I’m doing. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Quincy reached up and grab hold of my wrists. Her pants was tied in a doubled-up knot. It took me a while in that shadowy alley to get it figured out. I pulled them over her head. Quincy let loose of my wrists. She put her hands over her face, hiding it.
I done that too.
“How bad is your stomach?” I asked.
“It’s like deep scratches. They didn’t stab me.” Quincy stopped, then made another mew sound. “Not with no knife.”
“I know, Quincy. I know.”
We didn’t say no more. Then I came to myself. Remembered we was in a dark alley. Quincy mostly naked. “Let me help get your pants on and go home.”
I don’t know how we got home. I kept my head down and my hands over my stomach. I didn’t want nobody to see what was there. In the ’partment Biddy push me down on the couch.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tole her.
“I do,” Biddy say.
I look at her. I ’spect she might have one of them faces like a cat that done ate a bird. Her knowing that I’m just like her now.
But she look like she did when she looked at those cold duck eggs Mama Duck left behind.
“Do we gotta tell Lizabeth?” I axt.
Biddy shook her head. Sad-like. “Better not. Nice as Miss Lizzy is, peoples change when they hear ’bout this kind of evil doing.” She shook her head again. “All of a sudden you’re dirty and they don’t want to get it on them.”
I thought I’d gotten holt of myself, but I blubbered again.
“I’m gonna put you in the shower. You wash till you feel clean. Run the water hot and use lots of soap.” Biddy lean into my face and made me look in her eyes. “I don’t think you’re dirty, but I know you feel like it. You wash till you feel some better. I’ll make coffee. You gonna drink it, and I’m gonna tell you what to do next.”
I made instant coffee. Sat on a stool at our counter table. Quincy took a long shower. I think she didn’t stop until the hot water run out. She came out wrapped up in her thick robe. She sat. Her hands was shaking so bad, the coffee slopped. She didn’t look at me.
“You got to tell me about it. If you don’t, you won’t never be able to think of nothing else.”
“I cain’t,” Quincy said.
“You got to.”
She shook her head. She still didn’t look at me.
“I’ll tell you how it happened to me. I’ll tell first. Would that make it OK?”
“I cain’t look at you and tell you what they done.”
An idea jumped in my head. I jumped up right after it.
“I can fix this.”
Biddy jump off her stool and run to her room. She come back quicker than a lizard’s lick. She slap a tape on the counter right in front of me.
“Go in your room. Tell on this tape. And I’ll go tell on mine. Then we trade.”
“Biddy, this ain’t gonna make it go away.” I open my bathrobe so Biddy could see HO cut into my chest and stomach. Not deep enough to kill me, just deep enough to make scars.
“That say ‘Ho,’ ” I tell her.
Biddy’s white face turnt plumb ghosty. “It ain’t true,” she say. “You don’t never go thinking it’s true.”
I wrap my robe around and pick up her tape. Telling what happen or hearing her story wouldn’t make nothing be different. But if Biddy say I wasn’t no ho, I’d do anything she axt.
A boy named Dale come up when I walked out of school. He said I was the prettiest girl he ever seen. That I was sweet as candy. I smiled. Said I liked candy.
He told me he had lots of candy in his daddy’s barn. He’d give me some. Maybe I’d give him a kiss.
I wanted candy. Kissing him might not be bad. He stepped close. Picked up a piece of my hair. Rubbed it. He smelled of it. “Smells sweet, like flowers,” he said.
I wanted him to kiss me then. I thought he liked me. I wanted somebody to say nice things to me. Not call me Retard.
I went with him.
I walked in his daddy’s barn. He shut the door. Put a board across to lock it.
Boys came out of the shadowy part of the barn. The dark parts. Where I couldn’t see. They come rushing at me out of the dark. They grabbed me. Pushed me down on the hay. One held my arms. Another one held my legs. They pulled my shirt up. My pants down. They took off my underwear. Pushed it in my mouth.
And they done it to me. Every one of ’em. Dale done it twice. They done other stuff too.
Once they was done, they zipped up their pants. They laughed. They slapped each other’s hands high in the air, then low. Laughed some more.
Dale looked down at me while I tried to cover myself and said, “Want some candy, Ho? I’ll give you more candy anytime you want it.”
Then he spit on me.
Then the other boys spit on me.
I finish work and put my apron in the bin that go out to the laundry. I was fidgety ’bout some stuff and wasn’t careful. I walk through the parking lot like usual, and somebody jump out from between the cars. Robert. He run through the cars and grab holt of me before my head tole my feet to run. He clapt his hand on my mouth and his arm ’round my waist and dragged me. His friend jump out his car and grab holt of my feet. They threw me in and Robert sat on my head so I couldn’t holler.
Robert said, “Get goin’, Darrel.” The car went fast and Robert got off my head, but he put a knife to my face. “I can’t make you no uglier, but I can cut your tongue out and I can gut you like a fish. You want me to do that, Ho?”
I shut my eyes and shake my head. I couldn’t do nothin’ but leak tears. Nothin’ else in my whole body worked.
Darrel stopped the car. Robert say, “Darrel, I don’t know. She be too ugly to get me a stiffy.”
“You got to get them pants off her ugly butt anyways, so put ’em over her head,” Darrel say.
Robert look at me. “That might work. Her butt bound to look better than her face.” Darrel got out the car and come ’round the side. Robert open the door and both of them jerk my pants off, pull them over my head, and tied ’em tig
ht.
I felt the ripped-up places of the car seat sticking my bare skin. Robert got on me. He say, “You deserve this, bitch. No ho gonna dis me.” He shove in hard. It hurt me bad. He kept doing it, and he cuss in my ear the whole time. Calling me names.
When he was done, he tole Darrel to take his turn. So Darrel did. He didn’t say nothing to me. I could hear Robert laugh.
Then Robert shove my shirt up. He say, “This is so you remember what you is, skank.” He cut me.
They got in the front seat and drove. They stop and dump me out. Robert say if I tole anybody, he’d kill me. Darrel say they friends would help kill me. They say the police won’t care ’bout no ugly ho. But they’d kill me anyway. Just because they could.
After we listened to each other’s tapes, I went to Quincy’s room. I sat on her bed. “You know they’re right, don’t you?”
“Which part? Me being a ho or the part that they can kill me?”
“I told you before you ain’t no ho. You got to believe it in your own head.”
“I keep thinking I must of done sumpin’ made them think . . .”
I didn’t let her finish. Quincy always talks real loud when she wants a body to understand. So I raised up my voice. Kind of hollered right in her face. “If you cook me dinner — and I don’t want to eat it — and you shove the food down my throat, then who’s the bad one? Me or you?”
Quincy close her eyes and tears leak out. She wipe her cheek with the sash of her robe. Then she laughed. I thought she gone crazy.
“How’d you get so smart? You cain’t even read.”
I stared. Trying to figure out what was what. Maybe I needed to put her back in the shower. With cold water this time.
Quincy nodded her head. “We gonna call the police and get that piece of trash arrested.”