The Boarding House

by Sharon Sala

  “Don’t cry, Ellie, don’t cry,” Wyatt said. “I’ll go with the monster. You stay here and sleep.”

  Chapter Two

  The rain had stopped by morning. Ellie was in her bed alone when she woke. It made it easier to pretend that what happened last night had been nothing but a really bad dream. She got up slowly, thankful it was a teacher’s meeting day, which meant no school today. She and Wyatt could go down to the creek that ran along the back side of their property. Daddy didn’t like for her to get dirty, and Momma was always scared she was going to get sick, but sometimes Ellie just had to break rules or go crazy.

  “Wanna go hunt crawdads?” Wyatt asked as he walked into the room.

  Ellie nodded as she pulled a clean pair of panties out of her dresser and put them on.

  “Can we go barefoot?” Ellie asked.

  “Naw . . . you know Momma won’t let us, but we can take our shoes off after we get to the creek.”

  Ellie grinned and quickly finished dressing, then she and Wyatt headed for the kitchen, following the smell of frying bacon. She liked having secrets with Wyatt.

  Fern was at the stove when Wyatt and Ellie walked in.

  “Good morning,” Fern said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, Momma,” Ellie said. “I want bacon and toast and Wyatt wants eggs.”

  Fern paused, then turned around, eyeing what Ellie was wearing. “It rained last night. It’s all wet and muddy outside, so I think you should play inside today.”

  Ellie moaned. Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  “Momma. We want to go outside. We won’t get muddy, we swear, right, Wyatt?”

  “Right.”

  Fern’s lips pursed. “You and Wyatt always manage to get into trouble.”

  Ellie refused to answer. She knew from past experience that she couldn’t outtalk Momma. It was better just to let her talk to herself.

  Fern carried the bacon and toast to the table and slid it under Ellie’s nose.

  “Smells good, Momma, but don’t forget Wyatt’s eggs.”

  Fern rolled her eyes. “Have I ever forgotten?” She laid a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs onto the table, then poured two glasses of juice.

  As soon as they’d downed their food, Wyatt and Ellie were out the door. Fern followed them onto the porch, still calling out warnings as they disappeared over the hill and headed down to the creek. Even before they got to the trees, they could hear the swift rush of running water.

  “Ooh, I bet there’s lots of water in the creek today,” Ellie said as she ran headlong toward the sound.

  Wyatt was more hesitant. It was his job to keep her safe and he knew what would happen if he didn’t.

  “It will be too deep to wade in,” he reminded her as they reached the trees on the ridge above the creek.

  Now it was time to slow down. From here on, the ground sloped downward rather sharply, and even though it was grassy, the recent rain would have made it slippery.

  Wyatt was thinking that very thought when Ellie suddenly slipped, and down she went with a squeal, taking him with her.

  They hit a bush, then a tree, then lost their grip and slid farther, moving ever closer to the water below.

  “I can’t stop!” Ellie cried.

  Wyatt clenched his jaw, his focus centered on the half-grown sapling they were about to hit.

  Ellie reached toward it, but it was Wyatt who grabbed hold of the trunk and stopped their descent.

  “Oh my gosh,” Ellie gasped, as she rolled onto her back to catch her breath.

  From where she was lying, she could see pieces of the sky through the trees. Parts of it were dotted with white puffy clouds, and parts of it were a pure, clear blue, and all of it was framed in rich spring green—like God’s version of a patchwork quilt. Ellie thought it was beautiful. If not for the fact they were covered in mud, it would have been worth the fall.

  “Wyatt?”

  “What?”

  “You saved my life.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re awful muddy now. Momma’s gonna pitch a fit.”

  “We’ll wash the mud off in the creek, and our clothes will be dry by the time we get home.”

  Ellie nodded then started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Wyatt muttered.

  “We aren’t supposed to get in the water, but now we have to take a bath in the creek or Momma will know what we did.”

  Wyatt grinned. “So let’s get going.”

  Ellie carefully pulled herself upright, and then crawled on her hands and knees to a more level spot before heading for the water.

  A small turtle had taken up residence on an outcropping of rocks, positioning itself in such a way to catch the few rays of sun coming down through the canopy.

  “See, even the turtle is drying out,” Wyatt said as they reached the creek. “Take your shoes and socks off. I’ll wash off the mud.”

  “We’ll have to take our clothes off, too,” Ellie said. “I know how to scrub. I watched Momma do it in the sink.”

  Wyatt shrugged. Getting naked was no big deal to him, but Ellie didn’t like it.

  “What if someone sees us?” Wyatt asked.

  Normally, it would have been Ellie asking that question, but today felt safe. The monster only lived in the house. It didn’t come to the creek.

  “We can hurry,” Ellie said and quickly stripped. Wyatt cleaned up their shoes, then Ellie took the clothes down to the creek and knelt by the water.

  Her naked limbs were snow-white and thin, like the trunks of new cottonwood saplings. Her hair brushed against her shoulders as she bent over the water, scrubbing the pieces of the clothing back and forth, just like she’d watched Momma do.

  The water was cold, but the sun was warm against her back. She could feel the tickle of new grass against her legs and feet where she knelt. She liked the damp, earthy smells of moss and mud, and the rush of blood coursing through her body, keeping pace with the runoff from the rain. It made her feel alive and clean.

  She thought about asking Preacher Ray on Sunday if she could get washed in the creek instead of being washed in the blood. It seemed like a less messy option.

  “Are you done?” Wyatt asked.

  “Soon as I wring out my shirt.”

  She was reaching for her panties when she heard her Daddy’s first shout.

  “Ellie! Where are you?”

  She froze.

  Wyatt shook her. “Get dressed.”

  Every piece of clothing she tried to put on was too wet. It either stuck to her skin or she couldn’t find an opening. And all the while, Daddy kept coming closer.

  “Ellie! Answer me. I know you’re here.”

  Ellie moaned. “Oh no, oh no, I can’t get them on.”

  Wyatt was in a panic. He kept trying to pull at the tiny bits of clothing. Finally, he found the neck of her T-shirt and yanked it over her head. “Your arm. Put your arm in here.”

  At that moment, Garrett stopped at the top of the creek bank and looked down. The fact that his daughter was naked and standing at the verge of the rushing water nearly stopped his heart. She’d fallen in.

  “Ellie,” he yelled and started down through the trees, crashing through brush as he ran.

  Ellie’s legs gave way. “It’s too late. It’s too late.”

  “Stand up, Ellie,” Wyatt begged, then saw the thin stream of urine running out from between her knees and realized she was already gone.

  He turned to face his father, his fists doubled.

  “Ellie. What happened? Did you fall in?”

  When Garrett reached for Ellie, Wyatt swung, his fist connecting with the side of Garrett’s jaw. Granted, it wasn’t much of a blow, but it was unexpected enough that Garrett stopped.

  “Don’t touch her,” Wyatt yelled.

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t touch her?”

  “You heard me,” Wyatt shouted.

  “Ellie, get up. You’re going to get sick out here without any clo
thes,” Garrett said.

  “She’ll put them on. I’m gonna help her,” Wyatt said. “You just stay back and let me do it.”

  “Wyatt, you need to shut up. I’m the father, not you. Back off. I need to tend to Ellie.”

  Garrett began unbuttoning his shirt to put around Ellie.

  Wyatt started to panic. Daddy was too big and he wasn’t listening.

  “I’ll do it,” Wyatt said. “Just leave Ellie alone.”

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Do what?”

  “Whatever you want,” Wyatt said, and tried not to shudder when Garrett smiled.

  “You know what I want,” Garrett whispered.

  Wyatt could hear Ellie panting, like a dog that had run too far and too fast. Bowing to the inevitable, he quietly gave up.

  “It’s okay, Ellie. Hide your face,” he said.

  Ellie was praying. She was always praying, but Wyatt already knew it didn’t do any good. God was always busy when Daddy wanted to play.

  Chapter Three

  Memphis—May 31, 2000

  The school bell rang. It was the last day of fifth grade. When school began again in August after summer was over, Ellie Wayne would be in sixth grade.

  She’d just turned twelve a couple of weeks earlier and was walking with a slight sway to her hips like the older girls, even though she didn’t have much of a caboose to swing.

  But there were big plans on the horizon for Ellie. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Momma was taking Ellie to Dillard’s Department Store to buy her a training bra.

  She wasn’t sure why they called them training bras. It wasn’t like her boobies were gonna run laps or anything. But she was excited about the rite of passage and even happier that it was Momma who was gonna take her and not Daddy.

  The older she’d become, the more she’d resented his interference in her life. Sometimes she had to lock the bathroom door to keep him from barging in. It might have been okay when she was little, but not anymore. He didn’t know Momma was going to take Ellie to Dillard’s, and she wasn’t going to tell him. Sure as shootin’, if he found out, he’d want to come. Then Momma wouldn’t go, and Ellie would die before she’d let anyone see Daddy buying her a bra.

  She grabbed her backpack and headed out the door, anxious to catch up with Wyatt. They never got to be in the same class, which was Daddy’s fault. She’d seen him whispering to her teacher when she’d started first grade. She’d watched the teacher turn and give her a funny look, then touch her Daddy’s arm in a pitying kind of way. Ellie didn’t know why Daddy needed pitying. Everything in their house went his way.

  Wyatt had assured her it didn’t matter, because they were together all of the other times, and if Wyatt was cool with it, then so was Ellie.

  “School’s out! School’s out! Teacher let the mules out!”

  Ellie winced as a third grader ran screaming past her, shouting the chant at the top of his lungs. Stupid third grader. Stupid boy. All boys were stupid—except for Wyatt.

  She hurried through the crowded hallway while keeping an eye out for Wyatt and was all the way out the door before she heard his voice.

  “Hey Ellie, wait up,” Wyatt said.

  Ellie stopped. “I was looking for you.”

  “Now you found me. Race you home,” Wyatt said and tore out running.

  Ellie squealed.

  It was heaven, running as fast as she could go with the sun in her eyes and the wind in her hair—running away from tedium toward an endless summer of lazy days. She could hear the slap slap sound of her tennis shoes on the sidewalk—felt the thump of her heartbeat in her ears—and then something wet running down the inside of her leg.

  That wasn’t right.

  Ellie stopped, and then ran up onto a neighbor’s yard and hid behind part of their hedge. “Wyatt!”

  Immediately, he was at her side. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I peed my pants.”

  “We’re almost home. You can change. It’s no big deal. You know what Momma says. Your bladder is weak.”

  Ellie’s voice was shaking as she took a tissue out of her backpack. “Momma thinks everything about me is weak.”

  She lifted her skirt just far enough that she could wipe off the trickle running down her leg, but when she pulled the tissue out from underneath her hem, she gasped.

  It was blood red.

  “Oh no! Wyatt, I think I’m dying.”

  Wyatt sighed. “Naw . . . you’re only twelve. Remember what they said about girls in health class? I bet you’re getting your period.”

  Ellie was shaking as she stuffed the telltale tissue deep into her backpack. “Are you sure?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I’m not a girl. Just ask Momma when you get home.”

  Ellie nodded, checked herself one more time, and then slipped out from behind the hedge and started home at a more stately pace. If this was true—if she was truly getting her period, then this might be the best thing that would ever happen to her.

  “I hope it is,” Ellie said. “And you know why.”

  “No. Why?”

  Ellie glanced over her shoulder to make sure no other kids were close behind them. Then she lowered her voice. “Think about. If this is my period, then that means doing it can make me have a baby.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So Daddy will have to stop the games. Right? They have to be a secret, but if he made a baby it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

  Wyatt grinned. “I never thought of that. Maybe you’re right. Come on. Let’s walk faster. I think I heard Doris say she was making cookies this afternoon. Maybe they’ll still be warm when we get home.”

  Ellie giggled. This might become the best summer ever, a training bra, cookies in the afternoons, and no more secret games.

  Doris Bailey had been hired two years earlier after Fern appeared in the kitchen one morning and announced that God had come to her in the night and told her she was not to cook anymore. She’d stayed firm, despite Garrett’s shock and displeasure, claiming she knew it was her duty to obey her husband, but that God trumped Garrett, and if he wanted to eat, he’d better hire them a cook. And while he was at it, make sure she was also willing to clean house, because Fern had a premonition that God was going to take her off that duty as well.

  Garrett had fussed and fumed, but an empty refrigerator and no clean work clothes had ended the standoff in a timely fashion. Doris had been here long enough now that she was almost a part of the family, except that she didn’t sleep in the house.

  By the time Ellie and Wyatt ran through the back door into the kitchen, they were breathless. Just as Wyatt had predicted, Doris had made cookies—soft, chewy oatmeal cookies with raisins. Wyatt’s favorite.

  “Yum,” Wyatt shouted and grabbed two from the counter where they were cooling.

  Doris smiled. She liked kids, and while this family was a little strange, she was the kind of woman who didn’t poke into other people’s business.

  “Where’s Momma?” Ellie asked.

  “In her room, I think,” Doris said. “But she might be napping.”

  “Well, she’s gonna have to wake herself up then, ’cause I have an announcement she needs to hear.”

  Ellie stuffed a whole cookie into her mouth and strode out of the kitchen, dragging her backpack behind her like she intended to wipe out her tracks.

  Doris paid her no mind. Wyatt was the calm one, but Ellie was always verging on hysterics. Lord only knew what the problem was this time.

  Ellie dropped her backpack inside the door to her bedroom as Wyatt made himself scarce, then dashed across the hallway into Fern’s room without knocking.

  “Momma. We need to talk,” Ellie cried, startling Fern to the point that she promptly spilled the handful of pills she’d been about to take. They hit the floor with a faint click-clack sound and rolled out of sight.

  Fern turned, her pale, fleshy face shaking with anger.

  “I swear to goodness, Ellie, you scared the life out of me. You kno
w better than to come into my room without knocking. Now get down on the floor and find Momma’s pills. Do you hear?”

  Ellie sighed. “Yes, ma’am. I hear.” She dropped to her knees and began sweeping them up, digging them out from beneath the dresser, from underneath a rocker, and from beneath the bed.

  “’Zackly how many pills did you have?” Ellie asked as she dropped what she had into her mother’s outstretched palm.

  Fern frowned. “I’m not sure,” she said, and downed them without counting. “Now what on earth is so important?”

  Ellie put her hands on her hips and cocked them to one side. There was a can-you-believe-it tone in her voice when she loudly announced, “I got my period. Today. On the way home from school. What do you think about that?”

  The expression on Fern Wayne’s face hovered between shock and disbelief. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m bleeding, Momma. So I either got my period, or I’m dying.”

  “Lord, Lord,” Fern muttered and stumbled toward her rocker. “I’m going to have to think about this.”

  Ellie frowned. “While you’re thinking, I’m bleeding. What do I do? I already ruined my panties for sure.”

  Fern pressed a shaky hand to her lips. “They’ll wash,” she muttered. “Let me think. My pads are going to be too big for you. Maybe a panty liner will work for now. I’m going to have to call your Daddy. He can pick up some small pads for you on the way home.”

  Ellie frowned. “I don’t want Daddy picking up my pads. This is girl stuff.”

  Fern smiled. It was a rare thing to see, and Ellie found herself staring.

  Fern patted her on the head. “I know, but Daddy does a lot of our shopping. He buys Momma’s pads. He’ll know what to pick out for you, too.”

  Ellie’s chin jutted. “Whatever. At least this will be the end of the games,” she muttered, and then froze. She’d never said that out loud before except to Wyatt. She wasn’t supposed to tell. Maybe Momma didn’t hear.

  But Fern heard. “What do you mean, the end of the games? What games?”

  Ellie shrugged. “Nothing. I didn’t mean it.”