Broken (6 page)

The following week, the temperature soared into the nineties. In town, brawny men in damp undershirts and middle-aged women in flimsy cotton dresses sat on the row house stoops, drinking cold beer or iced tea, too hot to even gossip with their neighbors. It wasn’t any cooler in the Lipinski living room, where Stanley and his friend, JD, sat in front of a rattling fan.

Stanley didn’t know what the initials JD stood for. JD, in his cut-off Levi’s, sandals, tie-dyed tee shirt, long hair, fuzzy sideburns, a joint behind the ear, wouldn’t tell anyone his last name or where he lived—just somewhere across the river. Stanley thought that was so cool. However, it pissed Stanley off that JD was tall, lean, blond and quick witted while he was short, dark, and paunchy. Worse yet, sometimes JD used words he didn’t understand.

Stanley slid closer to the fan. “God, it’s hot!”

“Where’s everybody?”

“They’ll be here pretty soon.”

“Your parents?”

Stanley lit a reefer and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out with his words. “Hell no! Sarah took Davie to Bingo. My old man’s working four to twelve.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Stanley grumbled. “She’s not my sister!”

“Okay, smart ass. Where’s your cousin?”

“She’s upstairs. And she’s not my cousin either. She’s not related to me at all!”

JD took the joint from Stanley’s thick fingers and took a drag. “Since when?”

“Miss Anna Mae McBride was dumped on our doorstep,” Stanley said. “She’s Sarah’s sister’s kid. And Sarah’s not my mother. She’s my stepmother! So where’s the connection?”

JD raised an eyebrow. “So she’s fair game—even to you?”

“Yep! And she’ll be fourteen in a few months. Have you noticed th’ bod? I’ll give her a year or so…”

*     *     *

From her bedroom, Anna Mae heard voices downstairs. Stanley had invited his hippie friends to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. She would spend the evening at Debbie’s. But it was so hot outside, she put her usual modesty aside and dressed in her new blue and white shorts and matching halter.

She was sliding into her sandals when the beat of Jailhouse Rock shook the air. Below her window, the yellow convertible pulled to the curb. Four girls and six boys were crammed into the car. When they began climbing out, she grabbed her denim bag from her dresser and hurried into the hall. If she got downstairs soon enough, she could go through the kitchen and be out the back door before anyone saw her. But the crowd from the car was too fast. She reached the bottom of the hall steps just as they tumbled through the door.

“Whoa!” said George Siminoski blocking her path. Looking outlandish in his dashiki and leather headband, he held two cigarettes up to her face. “I got a couple joints. I’ll share!”

She pushed the cigarettes aside. He grabbed her arm, squeezing so hard it hurt.

“Let go!”

He loosened his grip. “You stayin’ for the party?”

“No! Get your hands off me.”

When he released her arm, she pushed passed him. He grabbed her hair with one hand and slid the other beneath the back strap of her halter. She froze. He tugged at the strap. She elbowed him in the ribs and he pulled harder. “Stanleeee…”

*     *     *

In a fog of sweet-smelling blue smoke, George Siminoski sat dazed on the hallway floor; his right arm and shoulder pounding with pain. His left eye began to close where Stanley had punched him. He fumbled around the floor for his glasses. When he found them, the wire rims were bent, but the lenses were still intact. His hands trembled as he put them on. By the he couldn’t see out of his left eye at all.

With Stanley and JD now out on the porch, George reclaimed his arrogance. He walked into the living room, where a skinny girl was draped across Walter’s favorite chair, smoking a reefer. Since his own cigarettes were trampled in the scuffle, he snatched it from her. He would stay at the party. And that had nothing to do with Stanley’s threat,
Step out that door and I’ll kill you!

Ignoring the crude remarks from those he felt beneath him, he retreated to a dim corner of the dining room where he leaned against the wall. The pain in his shoulder had subsided but the left side of his face was beginning to swell. He studied the smoking joint for a few moments, brought it to his lips, screwed up his face, dropped it onto the carpet and crushed it with his foot. He would wait until Stanley and JD smoked themselves brain dead—which wouldn’t take long—then he’d leave. Next week he would be off to the university and out of this hellhole, away from this filthy mill town and its moron mentality. For all he cared, they could all drop dead. He was a far better breed.

*     *     *

On the porch, Stanley and JD were laughing so hard it was difficult to tell whether it was sweat or tears running down their faces.

“I can’t believe it!” JD gasped. “Anna Mae never swears. She called him a four-eyed f…fu…”

“Fuckin’ pervert!” shrieked Stanley, holding his side and stumbling back into the house.

JD tripped on the doorstep and fell flat out on the hall floor. “….and an idiot ass-hole.”

“Stop!” begged Stanley who was doubled over from the pain in his side.

JD stood upright, staggered, then assumed a military posture. He turned to the bleary eyed teenagers sprawled about the living room and announced, “Let it be known by this esteemed assembly…”

“Man! Them’s big words!” someone called out.

“As I was saying, this esteemed…”

“Speak English!” shouted another.

“Shut up, you imbeciles!” ordered JD, squaring his shoulders. “As I was about to announce to this esteemed assembly…”

“Esteeeemed asssem…” Another heckler.

“Damn it!” Stanley shouted. “Pay attention!”

With exception of an occasional spurt, the laughter subsided.

Walking back and forth imitating George’s ridiculous swagger, JD continued, “I will now divulge that the virtuous and pure Miss Anna Mae Lipinski…”

“McBride,” Stanley yelled. “Her name’s McBride.”

“The saintly Miss McBride has succumbed to Mr. Siminoski’s low life plane of existence. Albeit a disappointment to those of us who admire her untainted goodness, Miss McBride blasted the little twerp with the wildest of wild harsh and evil words. And in her absence, we applaud her!”

Most of the kids didn’t have the foggiest notion what JD had just said. Someone turned up the stereo and Elvis filled the room. “…and I can’t help falling in love with you…” 

*     *     *

Anna Mae’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips and tasted soot. Her sweaty, bare legs stuck to the wooden pew. There were lights in the darkness. Little lights. Lots of little lights. And the familiar pungent scent of incense.

She breathed deep, gazing at the lights as they flickered like stars against a black sky. The black softened to gray. Images unfolded as a bank of votive candles bloomed before her.

Church? Okay. I’m in church.
She looked to the Gothic windows. She turned around in her seat and looked toward the door.
Is it evening?
Traffic rumbled outside. Heavy traffic. The kind she would expect in early evening.

Wasn’t I supposed to be at Debbie’s? That’s why I’m dressed this way. Stanley’s party—I didn’t want to be there so I was going to Debbie’s.

She tilted her head thoughtfully.
And then what? Something about George.

Frowning, she leaned back in the pew.
What was it?
She breathed deeply, stared at the candles, and waited. It was no use. She couldn’t remember.

It was almost dark when Anna Mae hurried down the church steps. She paused beneath the streetlight in front of Vinko’s Market, trying to decide which was the fastest way to Debbie’s. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She lurched forward but could not break free.

“You little whore!” George Siminoski bellowed, scaring the pigeons into the street.

“What’s wrong with you?” she yelled.

“Like you don’t know!” he said, pushing her against the wall.

“You let me go,” she threatened, “or I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead, bitch, scream!”

“Why are you doing this to me?” she wailed. “What did I ever do to you?”

“What did you do?” he asked tightening his grip as she winced in pain. “You’re asking me? What did you do?”

Joey Barns stepped out of the shadows. “Let her go!”

George looked up. “Well! If it isn’t the village idiot. Want something, stupid?”

“Let her go!” Joey seethed.

“Or what? Who’s gonna’ make me?”

The blow to George’s head was as fast as it was unexpected. Before he could regain his balance, Joey had him in a chokehold, his leather headband down to his bloody nose and his thick glasses hanging precariously from his ears.

“Don’t you ever touch her!” Joey shouted, hurling George to the sidewalk.

The frightened pigeons flew to the rooftops. Without taking his eyes from George, Joey put a protective arm around Anna Mae. She looked up with gratitude.

The side of George’s face was throbbing in pain as he carefully adjusted his glasses. He then quickly got up and lunged toward Anna Mae. Joey blocked him with an outstretched hand, sending George stumbling off the curb. When he regained his balance, George moved backward toward the alley and his car. “I’m getting out of this filthy town,” he shouted. “But I’ll get you!” He pointed a shaky finger at Anna Mae. “If it takes the rest of my life, bitch! I’ll get you!”

One and a half years have passed

March 20, 1966

The sky was overcast. The wind howled outside Anna Mae’s bedroom window. With her freshman schoolbooks strewn across her bed, she snuggled back against the wall with
Biology One, Chapter Nine, Anatomy of a Frog
, open on her lap. However, she couldn’t concentrate, because Stanley and JD had just gone up to the attic where she was sure they would get high. That was scary stuff.

Trying to dismiss her anxiety, she turned the page to a picture of a bisected frog with its vital organs color-coded. But she didn’t look at it. Instead, she looked at the window where bare black branches slapped and scraped down the pane. It was starting to rain.

It worried her that David was at the Tamero’s house, watching cartoons with Angelo’s little brother, Johnny. Ever since Dobie Siminoski had been hurt at the mill, there were conflicting opinions as to how the ladle slipped. An investigation determined it was an accident. Nevertheless, Salvador Tamero insisted Walter had something to do with it. Walter said Salvador never set foot in the mill and couldn’t possibly understand the complicated mechanics of ladling steel. Walter hated the entire Tamero family. More than once, he had threatened Anna Mae and David:
If I hear of either one of you going near that house, I’ll wring your necks!

Anna Mae hoped the rain wouldn’t prevent David from getting home before Walter. She looked down at her book.
The frog has an external ear. Both eardrums, or tympanic membranes...

BOOM! The thunder rolled like a freight train barreling across the sky. Lighting crackled as rain began falling in sheets. She picked up her book.
Tym -pan-ic membranes are exposed...

Sarah went to Bingo last night and lost all the change in the coffee can. The money was set aside for extra groceries. And beer. Thank God she had four dollars from baby-sitting. Earlier that morning, she had told Sarah if she needed it, she could have it.

Anna Mae moved a foot that had fallen asleep. Blood rushed in with painful, prickly needles. She shifted her position and the pages of Biology One flipped to Mammals. As she rummaged around for the lost frog, she heard scuffling in the attic. Trying to ignore the disturbance above her, she found the frog and once again began reading.
There is only one bone in the frog’s middle ear...

“Rats!” She looked up. What the heck were they doing up there?

…and the body structure of a frog…body structure... 

The mills were in trouble. Lately, all Walter did was fume about European imports and the steelworkers being laid off. He also paid more attention to the money in the coffee can.

Two weeks ago David won First Prize at the Regional Science Fair with his model Mercury Space Capsule. No other fourth grader had come close to matching David’s entry. On that same night, Walter went to a meeting about the situation at the mill. Davie said he didn’t care, but Anna Mae had seen the tears in his eyes when he stepped down from the podium.

…the body structure of a frog is very similar to the anatomy of a man. Both man and frog have the same kind of organs...

“Anna Mae!” Sarah called up the steps. “Anna Mae!”

“Yes, Aunt Sarah.”

Her Aunt’s voice was shrill and demanding. “You have to go to the store. We need bread.”

“I’m coming!” She closed the book, took her baby-sitting money out of the dresser drawer and went downstairs where Sarah handed her a small grocery list saying, “And if you have enough money left, buy some Twinkies for Walter’s lunch.”

Anna Mae left the kitchen, hoping her four dollars would be sufficient. She wanted Sarah to appreciate her. But it seemed no matter what Anna Mae did, it was never enough.

“Take the umbrella,” Sarah yelled from the kitchen. “I don’t want the bread to get all soggy.”

*     *     *

The air in the attic was thick and sweet. A bleary eyed Stanley sat cross-legged on his unmade bed. He had a patch of brown fuzz on his upper lip and his hair hung well below his hefty shoulders. JD, his dark glasses at the tip of his nose, crawled around on the hardwood floor, gathering pieces of David’s model spacecraft.
Crunch!
He picked up the cracked tail fin. “Oh shit!”

Stanley looked at the pile of pieces. “You better hope Anna Mae doesn’t find out you broke that!”

JD put the tail fin in the pile. “I thought Davie made the rocket.”

Holding a reefer between his thumb and index finger, Stanley took a long, deep drag. For a few seconds he locked the smoke into his lungs, extracting as much intoxicant as he could. Without breathing he choked out the words, “Anna Mae looks after her baby brother.”

“But you said...”

“I know! He ain’t her brother. Don’t start that bullshit.”

JD laughed. “What is it with Anna Mae anyway? How come she can be so nice and then she’s a royal bitch? It’s like she’s two different people.”

Stanley slid down to the floor to sit across from JD. “You noticed?”

“Yeah. I noticed. What’s with her anyway? Something wrong with her head?”

Stanley didn’t want to tell anyone what went on under the Lipinski roof. He was ashamed of it. To the best of his knowledge, no one outside the family knew about Anna Mae’s mood changes. Moreover, he wanted to keep it that way.

“Come on,” JD urged. “You hiding something?”

“No!” Stanley answered too quickly.

“Just between buddies,” JD coaxed.

“Nah. Not that much buddies.”

JD reached into his shirt pocket. Palm up, he displayed a black capsule—speed—worth at least ten bucks. He stretched out his hand offering the pill to Stanley.

Stanley thought for a moment, took the pill, put it in his pocket and slid closer to JD. “You don’t tell anyone! Never!”

“Who am I gonna tell? In a week, I’ll be in boot camp. They’ll probably send me to Vietnam.”

“Okay,” said Stanley. “Here it is. And don’t laugh. You’re right. Anna Mae is two people.”

JD leaned back against the wall and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “This is gonna be good.”

“The reason she is like she is, the best I can figure, is because my father hit her so hard and so much that he knocked her into two pieces.”

“No shit!”

“When I was a little kid I used to sneak around and watch.”

“No shit! Watch what?”

“Things.”

“What things?”

“Just things.”

“Come on, man.” JD swung to hit Stanley but missed.

Stanley rubbed his forehead, thinking. “When she was little...”

“Your sister.”

“My cousin.”

“Okay, smart ass—your cousin. What happened to your cousin?”

“If you’ll shut up, I’ll tell you.”

JD covered his mouth with his hand.

“When she was real little, my dad would beat her until she couldn’t cry no more.”

The hand dropped. “No shit!”

“And down the cellar we got a dirt floor. It’s filthy down there. Nobody goes down there. Sarah don’t want us goin’ down there.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why ain’t you allowed down the cellar?”

“Because it’s filthy, you idiot.”

“What about Anna Mae?”

“That’s what I’m trying’ ta tell ya.” Then Stanley clamed up; just sat there with his hair hanging in his face.

“Tell me!”

“My dad hates Anna Mae because he got stuck raising her.”

“No shit.”

“A long time ago, I think I was seven or eight, I hid in the kitchen behind the cellar door. I could see through the crack. My dad was pullin’ Anna Mae down the cellar. He had his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream.”

“Where was Sarah?”

“She wasn’t home. But if she was, she wouldn’t do nothing’. She couldn’t do nothing.’ She’s afraid of my dad.”

JD leaned forward. “Did Walter beat her?”

“Sarah?”

“No. That day you were lookin’ through the crack. Did he beat Anna Mae?”

Stanley felt lightheaded. The room began to float around him. His whirling thoughts traveled backward, submerging him in horrible memories. He wished he had not accepted that Quaalude, that he had not agreed to tell. But most of all, he didn’t want to remember. But it was too late. He was there. He could see it. And it was very, very bad.

“He pulled her down the cellar steps. She was so little. I saw him drag her across the dirt floor by her leg. The other leg got scraped. It was bleeding. There was soot smeared into the cuts. He got a wheelbarrow out of the coal bin and put it upside down on top of her.”

JD jumped when Stanley yelled. “You little bitch!” It wasn’t his own voice. It was Walter’s.

“Please, Uncle Walter!” Now it was Anna Mae “I’ll be good. Please! Let me out!”

“You stay there,” Walter growled. “You stay there until I tell you to come out. And if you come out when I’m not here, the monsters will get you. And they’ll eat you alive!”

Stanley stopped talking. He shook his head to clear it. The room came into focus. JD sat like a statue, his dark glasses in his hand. Stanley looked straight into JD’s wide eyes and whispered, “He did stuff like that all the time.”

“Is he crazy?”

“I think so.”

“How old was she?”

“Little. Maybe two or three.”

“What did she do to make him so crazy?”

“I think she wet her pants.”