COMMUNE OF WOMEN

by SUZAN STILL

  Even then, her Mama warn’t satisfied. “You be careful out thar in the mill yard,” she’d say ever time Pearl set out with her Daddy’s lunch bucket. “Them decks cain shift. You keep a eye an a ear out, you hear?”

  Pearl’s Mama was kinda psychic. She knew thins. She saw thins fore they happened. The mill yard was dangerous. She saw that. She knew.

  Pearl had a friend – her first friend – an Bonnie Lee was her name. Two names she gots, not one lak Pearl. Bonnie Lee was a year older then Pearl. Her house was across the road, a shack no better’n Pearl’s, built low an slopin, without benefit a no T-square nor chalk line.

  Bonnie Lee had fine blonde hair with a bit a curl ta it, so it was always tied in little knots an snarled, an stuck out from her head in a little halo a neglect. She gots a bath once a week in a big ol galvanized tub in the middle a the kitchen floor jes lak Pearl. In between baths, she was smeared an grimed with food an mill dirt – also jes lak Pearl.

  Bonnie Lee was fine-boned an delicate, though, even in her raggedy dress – not lak Pearl. Pearl thought she was beautiful.

  They use ter come across one another out thar in the mill yard, totin lunch buckets back an forth. “Hi,” Pearl’d say.

  Bonnie Lee’d smile this barely-thar smile. “Hi.”

  Sometimes, they’d go down ta the crick an grub around fer frogs, or wade when it was hot, or play with Lucky, they poor ol black dog with long matted hair an skin an bones from worms. They’d throw a stick an Lucky’d run an fetch it, then chew it up. That was the game. Sometimes, if they had the strength, they’d play tag.

  Pearl reckons she was five when it happened. Somebody come ta the door an she cain remember her Mama thar bent out the doorframe, whisperin. She cain still see her backside, with that limp apron bow, a cotton print skirt hangin down her skinny brown legs, an baggy socks an scuffed tie-up shoes.

  Pearl strains ta hear but it’s jes Buzzbuzz from the neighbor lady an then Buzzbuzz from her Mama. But thar was a energy ta it that told Pearl it warn’t good.

  And she cain remember ta this day how her Mama looked when she turnt back inta that room. Her face was dazed, kinda, an long-lookin, an hard, lak what lil plumpness they ever was thar was sucked off, sudden-lak. Her eyes din’t blink an she looked ta be starin a-far off, even though it was jes at the planks on the floor.

  An jes lak that, Pearl knew. She knew it was Death. She din’t know whose, but she knew fer sure that a black shadder done stooped over them that day an wiped somebody clean away, lak a eraser on a chalkboard.

  “That’s the Injun in mah Mama an me. Us Choctaws, we gots the Sight.

  “An that was the end a mah friend, Bonnie Lee, cuz it was her that got took. Thar she was in the mill yard, an the deck shifted. The top log rolled off, pickin up steam as it come, an Bonnie Lee, her daddy’s lunch bucket an all, was jes flattened lak dough under a rollin pin.”

  That thar was Pearl’s first funeral. Her Daddy was good with his hands an he built Bonnie Lee a little coffin usin wood from the mill, still bleedin pitch. Her Mama an another lady, Alice, done stitched her up a new organdy dress.

  First one she gots, ever, an she was dead an couldn’t enjoy it. Ain’t that the way life goes, though?

  Thar was a lid on the coffin. Pearl wanted ta see her friend ta say goodbye but they wouldn’t let her. She heerd some a the ladies gossipin an they said Bonnie Lee’s skull was cracked lak a egg, with brains oozin out lak yolk. Hell, a strong backhand’d a done that, she was so fragile – let alone three tons a rollin log!

  Pearl heard her Mama an her Daddy talkin in the nat bout how it coulda been Pearl, an how her Mama was jes about ta send her off with the lunch bucket when the word come.

  Her Mama wanted ta leave that place. She never did lak it much an after that she jes lost all heart. Thar was cracks betwixt the kitchen floorboards a inch wide an she’d jes stand thar with her broom, anglin dirt down them cracks a hour at a shot, lost in a dream. Maybe she was stretchin out her mind, searchin out the next place whar they’d be movin. She was lak that. She saw thins in advance.

  Seems lak it warn’t but a week or two after Bonnie Lee died, ol Lucky up an died, too. Pearl was the one who found him, layin by the crick with his snout in the water lak he got took rat in the middle of a drink.

  Pearl wanted em ta bury him next ta Bonnie Lee, but everbody jes laughed at her. The men come an fetched him an threw his body on the big heap a sawdust under the main saw, down under the mill.

  Pearl slipped round thar, when nobody was lookin. His body was already half-buried. With ever board that was cut, more sawdust jes drifted down. In a hour’s time, he’d plumb disappeared.

  Don’t seem rat that a body can jes be wiped away clean lak that, with no ceremony an no one grievin. Even a dog.

  So Pearl made up this story bout how Bonnie Lee was thar waitin fer him. An how they went off inta a beautiful meadow full a flowers, an how God give em a big basket a food ever day, settin it on a big rock out in the middle a the grass. An bout how happy they was an how purdy Bonnie Lee looked in her yaller organdy dress.

  If some preacher axed Pearl what heaven was lak, she’d tell em that story. She espects theys playin thar yet, Bonnie Lee an Lucky. An when she crosses over, the three of em’ll go down ta the crick an chase pollywogs again.

  Cuz this much she knows: once childhood’s over, they ain’t nothin a heaven in this life after that.

  Well, that story took a morbid turn, after Pearl done left Doc Lamb’s office. She din’t mean ta make thins worse, but from the looks on ever face that’s what she’s gone an done.

  But then that Heady gal, she says, “Pearl, I think you’re telling us what we need to hear. It’s a somber day. Why don’t you just keep on going?”

  So Pearl sets a spell loadin her pipe an she thinks about all the thins that’ve befallen her in this long life – an she discovers that she’s in a funk, too. An so she thinks, What the Hell? I may as well tell it all.

  Well, Pearl’s husband, Abel Johns, he never gots much of a bringin-up. Nobody never taught him not ta spit inta the wind, so ta speak. So he jes ended up gooberin hissef an everbody that done got close ta him. He was lak a big baby, goin through life wavin his fists an gettin mad at whatever done crossed his path, over nothin. Fightin his fate you mat say, when he was the one creatin most a it, hissef.

  An he was a drunk. An not the happy kind that laughs an stumbles round lak a fool. No, he was a mean drunk an when he was in his cups, thar warn’t nobody – neither man nor beast – that could face him.

  Ever livin thin jes annoyed the heck outta him on sat when he was drinkin. Jes livin an breathin was enough ta outrage him an make him want ta kill. Many’s the nat Pearl hustled the kids outta the house an hid with em somewhar – the woods, a barn, under the house. Jes anywhar outta his sat an mind.

  With his temper, thar was always trouble. So Pearl had ta be prepared ta move at a moment’s notice. She’d jes throw everthin they owned inta gunnysacks in about five minutes flat an off they’d go. Sometimes, they gots a ol dilapidated car. Sometimes, they gots ta hitchhike. An most times, they’d have ta sneak outta town through the woods or fields cuz somebody was lookin fer Abel Johns ta beat him up, or with a shotgun ta finish him off.

  Lord hep her, but they was times she prayed they’d succeed.

  An then they was the times that she warn’t fast enough. Abel Johns’d come through that door already fired up an her an the kids’d be cornert. Jes the very sat a them’d send him inta a rage an he’d pick up anythin that come ta hand – a fryin pan, the broom, the poker – an jes start wailin on the first one he come ta.

  That’s how Pearl come by this here crease in her head. Feels lak you could roll quarters inta the slot he done made with a poker one nat, when she come betwixt him an her third son, Abner.

  Abner warn’t but seven or eight an it was his cowerin that set Abel Johns off. “Ain’t no son a mine gonna shrink lak a girl! You come out here an take it lak a man!” And h
e picked up the poker an went fer him.

  Pearl leapt across that room lak a buck in rut, but she warn’t in time ta save that poor child a whack that broke his arm. The last thin she remembers was Abner’s hand hangin backwards, an then nothin.

  When she come to, Abel Johns was gone an so was Abner. Thar was blood from Hell ta breakfast – a big pool near the stove an splatters everwhar.

  She went ta find her other little ones an they was huddled under the bed, as far back as they could get against the wall. Pearl axed, “Is Abner in thar with you?” And some one a them poor tykes answered back in a squeaky whisper, “No, Mama.”

  Well, she gots blood runnin down in her eyes an she’s half crazy with pain an worry. She goes chargin out inta the darkness, a-callin Abner’s name. Next thin she knows, theys hands around her throat an a stink a whiskey that’d gag a skunk. An this voice lak a sick panther roars at her, “You shut yer mouth woman, or yer the next one I put in the ground.”

  Well, she was so insane with what he done hinted at that she kicked backward an got him a good one in the balls – an the fat was on.

  She scratched an clawed an he punched an she bit an he clobbered. An in the end, he drug her inta the house by her hair an throwed her down on the bed whar her poor babes was hidin, an would a had his way with her but he couldn’t get it up. An while he was tryin, he just plumb passed out.

  It was a pure act a mercy on the part a the Lord. Pearl gathered her chicks an they fled out inta the nat lak the hounds of Hell was upon em. They ran an ran til they saw the lats a town. She had no notion whar she should go, but she wanted folks round em, that much she knew.

  The first place they come ta was a church an, as luck would have it, the doors was open an a heavenly singin was rollin out inta the nat. Pearl jes herded her flock in thar an they hunkered down on the first pew they come ta, way in the back.

  They musta been a sat ta behold! Pearl lookin lak the wreck a the Hesperus, an her five children – who shoulda been six – settin thar lak they done seen a whole herd a ghosts. Good Lord! If ever they was folks that craved sanctuary, they was them.

  Afore long, up an comes a gal, skinny as a bedpost an dressed all in black. “Good Lord have mercy!” says she. “What have we here?” She stands a-hoverin above em lak some avengin angel, scowlin down lak she was witnessin the final atrocity at Gomorrah.

  Try as she mat, Pearl cain’t get a word outta her mouth. If Abel Johns’d cut out her tongue, he couldn’t a silenced her no better. So thar she set, her an her chicks. Pearl crusted in blood with a crease in her skull lak a trough a gore, an them all covered in dirt an patches an they eyes red from weepin. The Good Lord don’t look down on nothin more pathatic then they was.

  Pearl don’t ratly know how long they set thar with that thar somber gal, a-lookin down on em lak they was a tableau a the Last Judgment. She seen a hunert thins go through that gal’s mind, quick as minnows. She din’t ratly know whether ta call the cops or weep fer pity. Finally, she jes says, “You all come with me,” an nods her head towards the door.

  Pearl’s thinkin the gal’s about ta send em packin an she gathers up her lil ones as best she cain. Theys lookin lak they legs ain’t gonna carry em much further – she’s packin the youngest, Sadie, in her arms. It’s a moment a purest despair: them poor babes so tared an Pearl with no place ta rest they heads, let alone food ta put in they mouths. If she coulda jes laid down an died, she’d a thanked God fer the mercy.

  But this gal has somethin else in mind. She marches em down the church stairs an then points down along the side, instead a out ta the street. An Pearl an her kids jes foller along, meek as lambs ta the slaughter. She could be leadin em straight inta the mouth a Hell, fer all Pearl knows. She’s too tared an dispirited ta care.

  They straggle down the path past the church an come ta a lil house no bigger then a matchbox, but with the lats on an lookin warm an cozy. The gal stops outside an turns ta Pearl an says, “This is the parsonage. You cain take refuge here.”

  Well, even the poker din’t whollop Pearl lak that. She jes sunk down ta the ground an wept. An all her lil ones done clung ta her lak baby possums ta they dead mama.

  Then she feels hands under her arms an she’s bein lifted an half dragged inta the house. An she heerd a man’s voice, sayin, “May God have mercy on the man who done this ta this woman,” an it sounded lak he was bout ta cry.

  An then, she don’t ratly member much. They was hot water an someone scrubbin at her head, an later another man’s voice that musta been a doctor cuz in the mornin she gots stitches in her head, an a headache the size a Pittsburg.

  She opens her eyes, but it’s lak they won’t budge. Finally, she forces em open in slits with her fingers – and what do them poor swollen eyes see but her cherubs, all in a row on the floor, scrubbed clean an sleepin sweetly, all nestled in quilts.

  She had a moment a pure delirium, the joy jes took her. But then, all anxious, she counts em an theys but five. Her Abner ain’t among em an that knocked her clean flat on her back again. She jes laid thar with a heart heavy as a gravestone.

  Well, ta make a long story short, them good people kept Pearl an her babes fer a week. The entire congregation sent food ta em an the Sheriff come an took Pearl’s statement.

  That thar was the hardest part cuz she din’t ratly know what had happened ta her boy, Abner. She could guess at it, but it was a dark vision, an she told the Sheriff she din’t ratly believe it was possible.

  The Sheriff went out ta the house an a course Abel Johns warn’t thar. He’d turned tail, leavin all they thins behind. The Sheriff had a look around in the woods an afore long, he come upon a pile a fresh dirt an it din’t take much diggin ta uncover what was under thar.

  They din’t want Pearl ta see him, but she was lak a mad thin. She’d a kilt anybody that stood in her way.

  That poor child was broke lak a jar. Warn’t one bone in his poor lil body left whole. Thar he was, lookin lak a lump a mincemeat. Even his poor lil face was so battered an bruised, Pearl couldn’t a recognized him from Adam.

  “Thar ain’t...no words...fer what I done felt...

  “Thar jes ain’t no words...

  “Well...”

  By week’s end Pearl was sure even them good church folks was ready fer em ta move on, an the only place she had ta go was back home, so back they went. Nobody’d seen hide nor hair a Abel Johns an she figgered it was safe – that he’d be ten counties away by then.

  But she figgered wrong.

  One nat, bout a week after they’d come home, she heerd a sound an afore she could do anythin, thars that stink she knows so well an them hands, grippin her lak Death Hissef.

  “You filthy bitch!” he spits in a whisper that makes her hair stand on end. “I outta kill you fer sicin that Sheriff on me!”

  He’s got his hands so firm round her windpipe, she knows her eyes is buggin out an she cain’t say a word, let alone scream ta warn her babes.

  “You git outta that bed, you whore, an you git this house packed up. An you do it rat smart, or I’ll whollop ever one a them brats jes ta punish you.”

  So Pearl jes flies round that shack, throwin thins inta them sacks lak she was harvestin potatoes a gold. And Hissef jes settin thar, weavin back an forth lak the Devil’s own rattlesnake that jes crawlt up from the holds a Hell.

  The last spoon warn’t in the sack when he snatches the bags an lugs em out, sayin, “Get them brats out ta this car in two minutes or I’ll kill em all.”

  The poor creatures was awake, a course. Who could sleep with the Devil Hissef on a rampage? But still Pearl was shakin lak a leaf in a gale fer fear he’d come in an start beatin on the poor thins.

  She gots em all in the car an off they go. An whar, pray tell, had Abel Johns got that car from? Pearl din’t know – but she had a purdy good idea. They was flyin along the county road in a car that properly belonged in some sleepin somebody’s front yard.

  Heddi

  “I cain see by yer faces
that yer’re shocked. Well, I don’t blame you one bit. It was shockin fer me, too, as you cain imagine,” Pearl says.

  “That time was what mah Granny’d call a Blood Year. It’s what you all is havin, rat now...a Blood Year.”

  Heddi has to ask, “What’s a blood year?” and she sees Ondine give her a startled glance.

  She didn’t mean to put such an edge on it. It sounded so hostile, like she’s saying, You know damn well we don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m going to bust your little game wide open.

  It’s just an opening gambit, conversationally, for Christ’s sake, she tells herself, not a fucking complex you’ve got to hunt down with a flashlight in one hand and a 9 millimeter Glock in the other.

  But Pearl isn’t offended in the slightest. She smiles as if recalling something sweet, takes a contented drag off her pipe and rests it on her knee. The way she leans back into the angle of the vending machines is a matter for envy. She seems to be experiencing solid comfort, her scrawny body soaking up the cushioning of her pillow of plastic bags like it was made of goose down.

  Heddi notices that the others have stopped squirming around and that an unusually deep, listening silence has fallen on the room.

  Something in her feels bitchy as Hell.

  “Mah Granny use ter say they was different kinds a years. She had names fer ‘em: Moon Year, Leech Year, Flood Year, but the hardest, most hateful year a all was the Blood Year. Granny said that a Blood Year was terrifyin cuz yer in the grip a somethin that you know ain’t gonna let you loose.

  “A Blood Year bites inta you lak the teeth of a wild dog, Granny use ter say. It breaks through yer skin. It starts you bleedin. It pierces yer muscles. It don’t stop til it hits bone. Sometimes, it crushes that open, too, an sets rat down in the river a yer marrow an drinks.