CHAPTER 10

i i i

A door banged somewhere down the hall. Not again. Every night for three nights they’d screamed at one another, coming home late from the Ibsen Hotel, each accusing the other of absconding with her beau. It was hard to believe either of them could actually attract a man.

“You stay the hell away from him.” The voice belonged to Katy, a tiny woman with long dark hair, a hooked nose and cold grey eyes. Diminutive, yet frightening.

More noises in the hall were followed by a sudden thud against the wall. Slowly I opened the door and poked my head out. Lynn was lying on the floor, limbs askew, blood pouring from her nose. Throwing the door wide, I stepped out to help her.

“Get the hell back in your room,” Katy hollered from behind me. “This is none of your goddamn business. You want I should belt you one too?” I turned, but could only gape at her. Katy suddenly shouted, “Boo!”

A short scream leapt from my mouth and I scooted back into my room, latching the door and leaning against it. Katy’s laughter followed, and suddenly I was shaking. What did I owe Lynn anyway? Just days before, she’d accused me of stealing her boots, as though I would steal anything, let alone ragged old boots from a stranger. Annie said to pay Lynn no mind, that she was a good person, her mind a little fragile. Especially since her mother’s necklace was stolen, the only remaining piece of a set she’d been pawning to feed herself. Still, I resented having tried to help her.

When it was quiet, I poked my head out again. Everyone was gone. I felt like a turtle, afraid of anything but its own shell. I had to see Annie. At least she understood this place, the women, how to get what she needed and stay out of trouble. As I crept down the hall, my belly preceded me, conspicuous even under my housecoat.

We’d agreed on three quick knocks. But in my distracted state, I forgot to wait for the appropriate reply and shoved the sticky door open to slip in.

“Moira, no!” I heard it just as the door closed.

A man’s bare and hairy backside greeted me, Annie on all fours in front of him. They were on the bed, the man in paroxysms, tufts of pubic hair and dangling breasts visible between their two sets of legs. I couldn’t move, didn’t know if the man was aware of me yet. I stared in shock until Annie twisted around to peer at me, took one hand off the bed and waved wildly toward the door, gesturing at me to get out. Spinning back, I grasped the bent nail serving as a latch. Too large for the frame, the door stuck. I gave it a yank. The latch slipped from my fingers. I tried again. In that eternity the door finally opened. Glancing back, I saw the man turn, and our eyes met. His were cruel and unwavering. It was Mr. Penny.

I was not a turtle. Dashing down the hall, feet thudding, I scrambled into my room and banged the door. Mr. Penny could easily barrel through the weak latch. All my senses strained to hear him, the vision of his backside and eyes burning my eyelids. I felt dirty, a co-conspirator, Annie’s look so normal, as if I’d simply walked in on her at an inopportune moment, like an “oops, pardon me” would suffice to absolve me of the sin of bad timing.

But I knew what I’d seen. Vomit filled my mouth and I rushed to the wash basin. Soon the dry heaves quieted and I sat down on the narrow cot. The house was quiet: Mr. Penny probably gone, Annie cleaning herself up. I remembered the note I’d discovered in his pocket and shuddered. I’d become the friend of a whore. How could I have let that happen? How could Annie let it? I hadn’t allowed myself to believe she might be doing what the other girls so obviously were. And with such a pig. But then they were all pigs.

I felt a kick on my left side as the baby rearranged its limbs, seeking a more comfortable position, maybe finding its thumb. This was the world it would be brought into. I was sick again, rinsed my mouth and threw the whole mess out the window. Desperation constricted my throat and tightened my stomach. I had to leave, but was so hopelessly alone. Afraid to go. Afraid to stay.

For the first time since leaving home, I longed for Mother, the realization shocking. She’d been so harsh, yet it was her cold, reasoning voice that could bring the world into perspective. I needed her to convince me that somehow this would turn out all right; I’d survive pregnancy and poverty and parturition, and I’d be able to feed and clothe this child and find it a good home. But now I had no one, the isolation overwhelming.

When sleep finally saved me, I dreamed that Evan peered at me from Annie’s bed, his embrace tight around my friend, who became only a stricken stranger. The dream transformed Mr. Penny’s mocking face into Evan’s. The transformation did not change the cruelty in his eyes.

i i i

“How did you think I afforded to live, to stay here?” Annie looked at me like I was at best naïve, at worst an imbecile.

After days of avoiding her, I answered the familiar knock at the door, fearing a three-headed monster. But it was the same Annie, blonde hair pulled into a girlish ponytail, eyes bearing just a hint of sadness.

“Well.” I closed my eyes against the tears threatening. “I don’t know. I thought you were different from the other girls, that you worked somewhere else. Maybe family money?” It sounded ridiculous.

“Hmmph.” Annie snorted. “Not all of us are so lucky.”

I shrank back. “Wait a minute. I’ve got nothing from home. Nothing.”

“Yeah, but you know you can go back. When that baby is born...,” Annie gestured at my belly, “you can go back to Mommy and Daddy and all the comforts of home.”

“I don’t know that I want to.”

“Well, I don’t have the choice.” Annie’s glare dared me to argue. I lowered my eyes.

“It was the shock.” Shame filled my chest. Annie was the first person to react to me without judgment or dismissal, to give real comfort. Yet I’d been only marginally aware my friend might have her own sad story, and she might need compassion in return. I’d been frantically sorry for myself while Annie’s terrible reality moved on unnoticed and unacknowledged. I was not a good friend. Quietly, I went to the door and pulled her into the room.

“How do you manage...” I blushed and hurried on. “What about diseases? And so many women die in childbirth. It’s so dangerous for you.”

“We have our ways,” Annie shrugged. “Condoms made of linen or animal gut. And there’s a new thing called a womb veil. As though a veil is all it takes.” Her laugh was a short bark. “And I use a douche I make up in the kitchen.”

I gasped then, like a little girl. How had my father kept such basic things from me?

“Lynn thought she was pregnant a few months back. We used pennyroyal to induce her.” She looked up then. “It’s okay, Moira. We all know what to do.”

“But Annie, is there nothing else you can do? Nowhere to go?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But you’re smart and beautiful.”

“What does that matter out here?” Annie was less angry, more resigned. “Look, I’ll be fine. I am what I am. I’m not unhappy.” A weak smile flitted across her face. “It’s not bliss. But mostly they treat me well.” At my flinch, she repeated, “But I’m not unhappy.”

Hugging her, I whispered into her hair, “But I wish you could be blissfully happy.”

“Maybe I choose not to be.”

“I don’t know if it’s about choice.”

“Sure it is. Like right now.” Annie grinned. “You’re choosing to be my friend despite what you know.”

“Yes.”

“But you could choose differently and then you’d never know what I found.” She laughed mischievously. “I found a job for you.”

“Oh my goodness.” I could hardly breathe. “Where?”

“You could be a dollybird.”