She scolded me on my way through, sounding more worried than angry, “You should have been out there helping already! That was pretty stupid of you to take your bath before getting all dirty outside anyway. I swear, for being so smart, sometimes you don't think at all! Hurry up and get out there before your father takes your laziness out on everyone else!” She snapped the bean that was in her fingers harder than necessary as if to emphasize what she had said.
In my head I heard Julie say, “Shut up, you stupid drunk. You could change all this, but you don’t.”
All I could manage to reply to my mother on my way out the screen door was, “Yes, Mom. I’m sorry.”
It was too bright outside. I felt used and broken and the rest of the world seemed to have carried on anyways. I was angry that the day was so beautiful. It felt more like it should be a stormy, cloudy, rain pouring from the heavens kind of day to me. But, at the same time, I was also glad the weather was decent for working outside. Dad probably would have made us do the work no matter what the weather was like. I preferred working with the sunshine over pouring rain.
No one looked at me when I joined them outside in the field. I felt ashamed even though I knew the things that happened weren’t really my own fault and I think everyone else must have felt just as rotten for me as I felt. At least they didn't look at me in that odd way that meant that they felt sorry for me. I hated that. Dad was at least nice enough to give me some direction by saying, “Emily, you can start by turning some of the soil over there. Make sure you take the rocks out.”
“Yes Dad.”
We all worked really hard until the sun started to set and it began getting really chilly out. We had one break for lunch in the middle of the day when Mom had brought egg salad sandwiches and ice cold lemonade out to us. We barely talked as we ate and drank while sitting on some newly grown grass next to the corn field we had been seeding. Everyone else must have been as hungry and thirsty as I was. Eric did tell a funny story about the chickens chasing him when he fed them this morning. That had made us all laugh while we ate. Johnny had actually almost choked on a bite that he hadn't swallowed yet because he had laughed so hard.
That break hadn't lasted nearly long enough. I was sore and exhausted and I'm sure my brothers and sister were too. My hands were raw and blistered. My whole body ached all over.
I didn't think that this day would ever end. We all knew better than to complain. I assumed that only because none of us did complain and I know that at least I had wanted to. Finally Mom called out to us that supper was ready. We all paused what we were doing at the same time and looked hopefully at each other and then at my father.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his plaid shirt. His face was streaked with dirt. Then he nodded and told us, “Go. You kids earned it today.” It felt good to hear Dad say that we had actually earned something for a change. We really did work very hard. We probably would have ran to the house if any of us had enough energy left.
Dinner went smoothly. I washed up in the warm water that felt so good even though it stung the new scratches on my sore hands, then sat down and ate quietly alongside my brothers and sister as we were supposed to. Our parents always told us, “no talking at the dinner table,” “don't speak unless spoken to,” and, “children are to be seen and not heard.” I didn't really agree with the rules, but I had no problem at all following them. My experience had always been: the less attention you received from the Fleischer parents, the better.
None of us chewed with our mouths open. None of us put our elbows on the table. None of us tried to leave the table before everyone else was finished with their suppers. None of us did anything that would upset my father. As I was taking my last bite, (I was normally always the last to be finished eating) Dad spoke.
“Tomorrow I have to go into town to get some more supplies. You boys can do some fishing down at the creek. Try to catch us something good for Sunday's dinner. You girls can help your mom if she needs it. That is, after each of you finish your morning chores, of course.”
Johnny and I both said, “Yes, Dad. Thank you.”
Caroline and Eric chimed in with, “Yes, thank you, Daddy!”
Then he surprised me by adding, “Emily, tonight I want you to have Caroline help with the dishes. You can have her rinse and dry while you wash. Then you can put them away. She's old enough now to start learning. Got that, Caroline?”
I noticed that my mother gave him a questioning look. Then she must have realized what she was doing and thought about her swollen, bruised face, because she looked back down at her plate instead. It was fine with me if Caroline rinsed and dried the dishes. It would make the work go a lot faster. Caroline seemed excited to be able to help me too and she responded with, “okay, Daddy.”
I had made my mind up a few years ago when I was about Caroline's age to stop calling my father Daddy. To me, a daddy was supposed to be like the men in the books that I read: strong and firm, but kind and compassionate. Sometimes giving a spanking, but never beating. Never having the kinds of visits alone with his kids that our father had with us. Daddies were supposed to act like they loved the mommies. I didn't really want to call him Dad either, but I couldn't get away with anything other than that. At least to me calling him Dad felt like I was getting back at him in my own way, even if it was only just a little bit.
“May we start doing the dishes now,” I asked.
“Yes, go ahead.” So Caroline and I got up from our seats and began clearing the table of the empty dishes. I washed. There were definitely little cuts on my hands from working outside because there were spots that really stung now in the soapy water. Caroline rinsed and then dried. Then I put the clean dishes away while she headed upstairs to our room. The boys had asked while we were still washing and rinsing to be excused from the table.
I wasn't too worried while doing the dishes tonight. The bad thing had already happened this morning. Besides that, I was pretty sure Dad was exhausted from today's work too. Mom was still sitting at the table with him. She seemed like she wanted to say something to my father but was probably waiting until all of us kids were gone from the room to do it. He seemed to be in a pretty decent mood, so she probably figured this was the best time to bring up something important with him. That was what I would probably do if I were her. Being in a good mood wasn't usually like my father, but it was sort of nice for a change.
I finished putting away the dishes in only a couple of minutes. My parents were still sitting at their seats, Dad at the end and Mom in the seat just to his left on the corner. I told them good night and headed up the stairs that led to my room like my brothers and sister had already done.
Caroline was already in her nightgown when I entered our room. I got mine from the end of my bed and put it on as well. “Tomorrow should be a pretty good day,” I said to her. She smiled with her awkwardly big teeth that I had learned were common at her age. I was actually a little excited too, maybe even more than a little. I got into my bed and covered up. I turned out the light, gathered Julie in my arms, and said good night to my sister, falling asleep quickly without any problem at all.
I know she’s in for a big letdown somehow. There has never been a good day around this house that didn’t come with a hefty price to be paid. Oh well, I guess the sooner she came to terms with the reality of her life and the situation she and her family were in, the sooner she would let me have the control I needed to take care of it all. I knew I could at least save Emily from the pain and anguish, if no one else. Emily was all that really mattered to me anyhow.
CHAPTER five
I was up, dressed, and eating my breakfast earlier than normal that next morning. I even helped Mom cook it. We had buckwheat pancakes with sweet, rich maple syrup that we had made ourselves last year from the sap of our maples. Plus we put juicy strawberries that we had frozen while they were still fresh and ripe from last summer on top. Yummy! I ate three whole pancakes myself.
Mom told me that
I just had to help her prepare supper and do the breakfast dishes. She said that I could do as I pleased after that stuff was finished. The boys were out the door to go fishing right after they scarfed their breakfasts down. I'm not sure if they even chewed any of it. I'm sure they were just as excited to go fishing as Caroline and I both were to do whatever we wanted. They were told to go fishing, but I knew they both enjoyed that chore.
I already knew what I wanted to do. I planned on getting a lot of reading and maybe some of my own writing done, under the willow. I loved that tree. I'm not sure why, but I did. Maybe I liked it so much because it looked a little sad to me in a way, which reminded me a lot of myself. I really hoped that Dad would be gone all day long. That would make this the best day I could remember in a very long time.
I helped Mom get supper started before doing the dishes. We were making a pork roast. All I had to do was wash and cut up the potatoes, wash the carrots and cut those up, and the same with the celery. Mom did the onions because she knew they would make my eyes tear up horribly. Then I got the dishes done as quickly as I could.
“Are you sure you don't need me to do anything else, Mom?”
“No. I've got it from here. Go enjoy your day. There probably won't be another like it again for a while.” I knew she was right. I think she was almost just as happy for the break from Dad as we were. So I went back to my room and grabbed my doll Julie, my book, my pencil, and my paper.
I walked to my favorite spot on our property: our willow tree that stood halfway between the house and the creek. The branches were so full already and so long that you could pretty much hide from everyone under there. It was like a big umbrella shielding me from everything. I got myself comfortable, sat Julie up against the trunk of the willow, and decided to do a little writing first.
I wrote happy fantasy stories. I couldn't really write anything else, especially not a diary. I wanted to keep a diary, but knew that I couldn't. Someone would surely read it and that would be the end of that and maybe even the end of me too. I wrote a story about a homeless kid and her dog and their adventures together. I dreamed that maybe someday I would be a rich, published author like the people that wrote the books that I had read. That would be something.
After a while I heard my brothers' voices. I looked through the branches and could see them talking excitedly to each other as they walked up from the creek. They had big smiles on their faces, so I stood up and ran over to them. I peeked into the old paint bucket that they were carrying, seeing it was full of fish. “Wow! They were really biting today, weren't they,” I said. I was really happy for them.
Eric was the one to pipe up and answer, “Yep! I caught three of them all by myself!” That really was something pretty special. I suddenly felt like playing, instead of sitting still, for a little while.
“Do you guys want to play a quick game of Tag before cleaning the fish? I've been sitting too long,” I added.
Johnny declined by saying, “I'll go get started cleaning the fish up. You guys can go ahead and play. Have fun but make sure you don't leave me to do all the work, Eric.”
“Nah, I won't. We'll just play a fast game. Promise.”
I watched as Johnny headed for the house with the bucket. Then I called out to Caroline to come join me and Eric. She was outside playing with her dolls somewhere, probably near the house. After only a minute or so she came running from the side of the house, just like I had guessed. Before we had a chance to start playing though, Eric surprised me by asking, “First can you read us one of the stories that you made up, Emily?”
“Sure. I guess so.” It felt wonderful for Eric to be asking to hear one of my made-up stories. He normally didn't have the patience to sit and listen to a whole story. Maybe this time would be different. I decided to read them the story I had just written. It was a little shorter than my normal stories. “I'll read you guys this one that I just wrote. I think you'll both like it.” I was right; they both seemed to love it and sat quietly through the whole thing.
“I'll be ‘it’ first,” I volunteered. I purposely didn't catch Eric and had let him catch me a few times when it was his turn to be “it” after Caroline tagged him. He never seemed to win any of the games that we played, but I was feeling generous because of the great day that we all seemed to be having. We played our game of Tag for probably about half an hour. Then afterwards we each went our separate ways to continue enjoying the rest of our peaceful alone-time. Eric went to help Johnny like he had promised and Caroline took off in the direction she had come from before our little get together.
I felt a little sleepy after our game of Tag and let myself fall asleep for a little bit under the willow with Julie. When I woke up I decided to pull out my book, “Little Women” to read for a while. It was such a good book and I really enjoyed having this time to myself. It was still bright out and my Dad hadn't pulled back into the driveway yet. He was still gone on his errands.
After reading only three pages, I stopped. My tummy was really starting to hurt and I didn't feel so well. I'd have to put the book aside and make a trip in to the bathroom.
I managed to make it into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. I had diarrhea, again. It had to be my nerves constantly doing this to my body. When I was done and wiped, however, there was blood. From the front. Dad hadn't bothered me at all today though. I suddenly felt scared and really weak.
I would have to tell Mom, but would she be angry with me? And even worse, would she tell Dad? I would have to find out I guess, because I really needed to tell her. The blood wouldn't stop. It just kept dripping and dripping like our leaky bathtub faucet.
I couldn't stop the tears from flowing as I found my mother, sitting at the table, busy folding clothes. She looked up from the towel she was folding and then set it on the table. “What's the matter, Emily?” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“Mom, I don't know what's going on. Something's wrong with my private parts. There's blood and it's not stopping.” She laughed. I couldn't believe it! Here I stood crying my eyes out and bleeding from... well, she had no reason to be laughing at me at a time like this.
She got up from her seat and came over to me. She placed her arm around me as she said, “Emily, it's going to be alright. Come with me to the bathroom. I need to have The Talk with you. I should have done it when I noticed you starting to get your boobs.” Oh God, what was this all about? Suddenly I no longer felt right with her arm around my shoulders. I let her walk ahead of me to the bathroom as I tried to hide my chest with my arms. Was I going to be punished? Once we were in the bathroom she moved the curtain from under the sink. She brought out the basket with the scrap pieces of cloth in it.
“You have your period. This will happen every month for about a week each time. It's God's way of telling you that you're growing up and it's a good thing to get, because if you don't... that means you've got a baby inside you. But that shouldn't happen until after you're married. Otherwise your father will probably kill you and whatever boy put that baby there. And I would be very disappointed in you. I would not want you to end up like I did.” She showed me how to put the cloth into my panties and told me after it was used up how to clean it out.
My head was spinning with thoughts and worries. I was sick to my stomach. This was horrible, not to mention disgusting. I had questions about this that I couldn't ask my mother. What would happen now? I needed to really think about this. But I couldn't do it here or now. It would have to be when I was alone again.
I wasn't in the mood to do anything else. I told my mother that I didn't feel well and was going to go lie down in my bed. She didn't try to argue with me. First I went out and gathered my things from under the willow and brought them with me to my room. I couldn't let those get lost or ruined.
I laid in my bed worrying and thinking. From what my mother had explained to me, it sounded as if I could end up pregnant with a baby because of this bleeding. I was guessing the bad things that my dad did to me were the way a
baby got inside someone’s belly. That made sense to me. Would I end up pregnant with my father's baby? And if I did, then what would happen? “Everyone would probably blame you and hate you. That's what would happen,” said the Julie voice from inside my head. The voice was right, as usual. This was truly awful. Or would he leave me alone now? He must have known for a while how these things worked and I didn't think he would want me to end up with his baby inside me. Ugh. I really didn't feel well at all.
It wasn't too long before Mom called out that dinner was ready. When I stood up from my bed the whole room seemed to spin around me. I just stood there for a minute until things stood still again before heading downstairs.
Dad wasn't home yet. That was nice for a change, although a little weird. We all still ate pretty quietly. I did because I just didn't feel well, and I was still worried. I always seemed to be worrying. The other kids were probably thinking that Mom might tell Dad anything that they did wrong. Which was most likely true. Eric did ask once when Dad would be home. My mother simply said, “When he's done running his errands.”
Detached: Book 1 of the Fleischer Series Page 4