Commune of Women (36 page)

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 he 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.

“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.

“I declare, I don’t know why Granny din’t call it a Marrow Year,” Pearl pronounces, and closes her eyes the way a cat sitting on a sunny windowsill does, a kind of creaturely basking.

“Maybe that wild dog hits a artery an yer scairt yer gonna bleed ta
death
. A Blood Year shakes you an draws on yer strength til yer lookin Death straight in the eye.”

“Is there a point to this?” Heddi is almost hissing. Honestly, if Pearl doesn’t take offense at that tone, she’s missing a good chance.

Pearl opens her eyes slowly, the tiny pleated wrinkles around them furrowing like a tilled field. She looks straight at Heddi; meets and holds her eye, unflinchingly.

“I espect they is.” Pearl closes her eyes and the tissue of thin, fine wrinkles relaxes again. Just for a moment, a spasm crosses her face, like a sudden pain. Heddi thinks she’s about to cry. Instead, she keeps on talking, with her eyes closed as if she were drawing up what she has to say out of some deep well of memory.

“Granny said that Blood Years was the luckiest a all...”

There’s an explosive guffaw. “
Lucky?
” Heddi is hooting, the contempt in her voice not even barely concealed. “Well, that’s the biggest pile of rubbish I’ve ever heard! If your Granny had ever actually
had
a Blood Year, she’d never have said such a thing.”

Heddi is astonished by what’s coming out of her own mouth. So this is the Shadow, then, released from repression’s cage by exhaustion and ready to devour whom it may! And what form does it take? Heddi, the adored Only Child, can scarcely believe it – sibling rivalry!

Pearl opens her eyes just a squint and stares at her the way a lizard looks at a fly.

Ondine, over on the other side of the room, squirms in her lotus posture and silently mouths
Ooohlala!
to no one in particular. The silence deepens uncomfortably.

“What’s that you say thar, Heady? Granny musta never had a Blood Year ta say such a thin?

“Huh! My Granny done
fergot
more bout Blood Years than
ye’ll
ever know,” Pearl says softly. The edge of contempt in her voice is subtle. You have to listen for it, but it’s there.

That’s the thing about Pearl. She has nothing. She’s the Queen of Cardboard – but a queen, nevertheless. She bows to nobody. And
that’s
what’s pissing Heddi off.

Pearl goes silent, sucking on her pipe, her eyes closed, as if she has withdrawn into her royal boudoir. Heddi can hear the wall clock above the door ticking and the low pant of the machines keeping their last few drinks cool.

Finally, Ondine breaks the silence. “Pearl,” she says in a voice like a rivulet of honey, “won’t you tell us the rest, please? I think we all need to know.”

Pearl’s entire torso begins to bob slightly, like a wild grass stem in a breeze. She holds her pipe just beyond her lips in her right hand, her elbow supported in the cup of her left. Her crepey eyelids veil the moment she deigns to leave her boudoir and enter again into the halls of memory.

“Anyways...Granny said a Blood Year was the luckiest a all,” she continues, as if there had never been an interruption. None of them moves a muscle or even breathes – Heddi included. “She said it was a gift from God.”

Self
, Heddi thinks, staring down at the floor,
if you snort, or so much as crack a snide little grin, I’m going to smack you.
But she doesn’t. She feels locked in some inner room of her own; some place where capital punishment can be exacted, where an axe can fall and the hated parasite of memory can be severed forever.