A Girl Between
Authors: Marjorie Weismantel
A Girl
Between
by
Marjorie Weismantel
Text
copyright © 2013 Marjorie Weismantel.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed
in print or electronic form without prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Laura Weismantel; photo by Ken Stabile.
7
To my husband and children for their love and support.
This is a story of Tess; about
her past and the present.
The historical context of past
events is true.
As for the present day, let's have Tess tell the
story . . . .
logu
e
Mother and daughter lay closely together to ward away the
damp. Suddenly, the cell door creaked open and the jailer came in accompanied
by the blacksmith. The jailer gazed impassively at the woman and stated, “It’s
time.”
The woman extricated herself from her daughter and meekly
extended her arms. She winced as the blacksmith gruffly lay down her manacles
and pounded them off. The little girl pushed herself up and cried, “Momma, are
we leaving here?”
“I must go Elsa,” the mother answered with a steady voice while
she bent and wiped the tears from her daughter’s face.
“Momma, where are you going? Please don’t leave me!” The
young girl wailed.
The jailer grasped the mother’s arm and pushed her to the
cell door as her daughter stretched her hands toward her. At the door, her mother
stopped, looked back at her daughter with weary eyes and proclaimed, “Elsa dear,
please keep me in your heart and do not forget the injustice we suffer here on
this day.” The condemned woman then straightened her shoulders and lifted her
head as the jailer led her up the stairs.
The child put her fists to her eyes and screamed. Others in
the cell pressed their hands to their ears. It was agony to hear. There was
nothing they could do. She finally fell back in the hay and wept.
“Child, come sit by me if you like,” the old hag with gentle
eyes beckoned to her. “I fear that your mother will not be returning to you.”
The girl looked at the old woman and wiped her eyes with her ragged sleeve.
She sniffed again, but the tears had stopped. She sank into the hay, staring
out with dead eyes.
Outside, her mother was pushed into the cart with the
others. A mob of people were waiting for them to pass. Some just watched the
cart jostle by. Others jeered and threw rotten apples at them. Gradually,
they made their way down the road and up the hill to the ancient oak.
When it was the woman’s turn to hang, the last thing she
heard were the final words of the reverend, “Ye shall now be returned to the
house of the devil to burn in the fires of eternal damnation”.
Cousins Annie and Eve kept an eye out while I crept out the
back door. I used a small flashlight to see my way to the garage, which was
located behind the house. Frank, my uncle, always locked the garage door, so I
fished the key out of my pocket and fumbled with the lock until I managed to
get it open.
Frank was always concerned that someone would steal one of
his precious antique cars, so the door was always locked. He owned five
vintage cars, all in various stages of restoration. I had to peer through the
dark to find the right one, which wasn’t that tough to do. It was Frank’s
baby; the shiny red ’79 Chevy Corvette. It’s the one he drives to work every
single day. I have a theory about why Frank drives that shiny show-off car
everywhere. It’s because it makes him feel like he’s big and important.
I felt around under the car for the wrench. Eve had placed
it there earlier for me to find. It was really tough trying to fit the wrench
over the tire lug using only a thin pencil of light, but it finally slipped on.
I stood over the tire and readjusted my stance to get optimum leverage. It’s
never easy getting leverage when you’re on the short side like me. As I leaned
in, I realized that something was different. There was a new background noise.
What was that? I started to feel panicky so I took a few deep breaths. I
told myself to just quiet down and listen.
As I waited, I could feel some doubts creeping in. What if
Frank woke up? What if something went wrong? Did he really deserve this? Tonight
certainly does present a good opportunity, and it may not come around again. I
have to keep that in mind. I also remember how badly Frank treats us. For
example, today he installed the two front tires on his precious car with poor
Annie’s help. Whenever he needed our assistance he would call one of us down
from our bedroom hideout to help him. He’d make us stand around for hours,
waiting for his impetuous commands. Then he’d scream at us for not holding the
wrench properly, or sanding some car part too little or too much, or whatever.
He loved yelling so it didn’t matter how hard you tried or what you did. It
was his daily reminder that this was his domain. In his eyes, you were no
better than a bug on his Chevy windshield. If he was really feeling on top of
things, he might reward you with a back hand across the face or a kick in the
pants before you escaped from his custody.
Frank has always been insane with us, but something happened
recently that pushed us into this act of desperation. He came home from work
the other day and was actually whistling! My cousins were hoping he was in a good
mood because work went well. But I knew better. Something was up and it
wasn’t going to be good. I just had a feeling. Unfortunately, I was on the
mark. He lowered the boom right after dinner.
“I have some good news for you girls and for ‘Lardass’” (what
he calls my Aunt Amy when no one else is around). “Someone at work is selling
a beautiful piece of land way up in the mountains. I’ve been looking for a way
to move out of this congested area and away from all of the bad influences on
you girls. I can’t stand all the people living around here. I figured that if
we move up there I don’t have to worry about the crazy stuff going on at your
school. Your mother can home-school you. It’ll give her something to do other
than sitting around on her lardass all day like she does. Then I don’t have to
worry about you going out with boys and getting into trouble.” The whole time
Frank was telling us this news, he had a smug grin on his face.
My aunt said, “But Frank, we don’t want to move away from
here. The girls like going to the high school and all of their friends live
around here.”
Frank’s face started turning bright red. He’s not used to
being disputed. “Shut up, Lardass. I already gave the guy a deposit to hold
the property. I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to get this place. I
figured we can move by September. It’ll be more of a drive for me, but I don’t
mind sacrificing for my girls.” He said ‘my girls’ like he was saying the
phrase ‘dog crap’.
Our fear about leaving was what really got the ball rolling
with our plan. Even though living with Frank was a nightmare, we had great
friends and neighbors. They all knew about Frank and compensated in little
ways to help us cope. If we had to leave our friends, what would we do? We
would be stuck under Frank’s reign of terror 24/7. As it was, we were becoming
scared little rabbits. When our life does start someday, will we be able to actually
live it? Aunt Amy was the one who would pay the most, though. Any spark of
life in her had been worn down to a tiny nub. Her primary role as the buffer
zone had turned her into a yelping, skittering dog.
Despite that, my aunt had taken on a big risk recently by
helping Annie secretly leave the house in the evening. Frank hardly ever let
us go out at night because boys may be around, and BOYS WERE OFF LIMITS. Frank’s
mantra was that boys were up to no good and they had only one thing on their
mind. Since Annie was almost 18 years old, Aunt Amy wanted her to do some
normal teenage things. So, when Uncle Frank started snoring in front of the
TV, Annie would slip out and meet her friends in front of the house next door. They’d
go to the movies or a high school dance or something. When Annie came home,
she’d slip in through an unlocked basement window and sneak upstairs. We were
all glad for Annie, but while she was gone, we lived in a state of perpetual
terror. What if Frank woke up? What if Frank found out? What if our house
got struck by lightning? What if the aliens landed?
So there I was, still standing with the lug wrench in my
hand. I finally heard the noise again. It was a scrabbling noise, like mice
in the walls. That’s all it was. It was nothing to worry about. I had to do
this! I put my weight down on the lug wrench. The lug nut on the tire
wouldn’t budge. Then the wrench slipped and clanged onto the cement floor. That
was so loud! I anxiously peeked through the garage window at the house. Did
Frank hear that? I waited. No light came on.
My cousins must be going crazy by now, wondering what’s
going on out here. Our plan was for me to loosen the lug nuts on one of the
front tires he changed on his car today. On his way to work tomorrow, he’d be
driving down a couple of long steep hills. There was a good chance the tire
would pop right off and he’d lose control of his car. There was nowhere to go
but off the road and down the cliff. He tends to be a speedy driver because
he’s an impatient man, and of course he doesn’t wear his seat belt. After all,
he’s ‘The Man’ driving a shiny red corvette. There’re no airbags because the
car is too old. It’s not like a tire shop would be blamed. Frank changed his
own tires.
I volunteered to carry out this part of the plan because of
my age. After all, I’m 15 years old, turning 16 next month. We figured that
if something happened and it was discovered that Frank’s tire was deliberately
loosened, I could step forward and take the heat. There’s only so much that
can be done because of my age (at least according to the TV shows). I’d
probably go to juvie for a few years. It would be worth it.
I bend over for the third time and try again. The lug is
really on tight. I should use a longer wrench. I just need more leverage. I
go to Frank’s bench to find one. I’m sweating like a pig now. My heart is
thumping, thumping. I’m breathing in and out, in and out. The wrench slipped
again out of my hands. It CLANGED onto the cement. I bend over to pick it up,
and stop. What am I thinking? The reason I’m messing around in here so much
is because I’m putting this deed off. Deep down, I know I just can’t do it. I
don’t have it in me. I wish I could. Frank is an evil man and he deserves to
die. Why can’t I bring peace to this family? I can’t kill another human
being, even if it’s a vacant evil soul like Frank. I wish I could. I stole
out of the garage and go back inside. I am a coward.
When I got back into the house and saw my cousins, I just
shook my head in defeat. I went upstairs and crawled into bed. Adrenalin was
alive and well in my body so there was no way I could fall asleep. As I lay
there, I started thinking about my early life with this family. I didn’t
always live with Aunt Amy, Frank and Cousins Annie and Eve. I lived with my
own mom and dad. At one point my dad up and left us, so I was just with my
mom. She was sweet and kind to me, but my strongest memories of her were of
her eyes. Even when my mom would laugh and tickle me, I could see sadness
inside her eyes. She died of cancer when I was six, but I remember the sadness
from way before then.
After my mother’s death, my Aunt Amy came and got me. She
was my mother’s younger sister. She was the greatest; very kind and sweet like
my mom. My cousins Annie and Eve were a little older than me, but we got along
well. They mothered me, too, which I just soaked up.
There was something that I remembered about my aunt at that
time that made me nervous. I knew even then that she had a little needy hole
inside of her. Frank wasn’t with Aunt Amy back then, but he was starting to
hang around at the edges. He could see the hole, too. The first time I saw
him, he came by with some tools to fix Aunt Amy’s hanging mailbox. I remember
the second time I saw him. He took all of us out for ice cream. My cousins
and I were sitting in the back seat of a giant car. I think it was called a
Desoto. It was a beautiful thing, green and sparkling in the sun. The back
seat was like a big round living room couch. I was licking my cone when some
of it spilled on the seat. Frank laughed it off like it was OK, but I knew
better. Deep in his eyes was a big fury. He tried to hide it, but I saw. He
acted all nice until he married Aunt Amy. I wanted to tell her that he was bad
inside, but I knew she wouldn’t listen. I was only eight years old.
Our life with Aunt Amy changed quickly after she married
Frank, like I figured it would. Frank was a physically intimidating man. Even
though he was small, he did manual labor all day so he was quick and muscular.
I always thought he looked kind of like Popeye; the cartoon character who ate
spinach and grew big arm muscles.
The scariest thing about Frank was his propensity to blow up
for any reason at all. The first time his madness leaked out was when he
banged his head on the door of an upper cabinet that was left open. We were
all sitting at the kitchen table, so we had a real close up view. Frank’s face
turned red and I could see pulsing veins in his forehead. His eyes were
bulging and intense when he turned to us and screamed something about the
cabinet door being left open. He proceeded to put on a great show with his
gesturing and emoting. He got just what he wanted because we were all scared
to death. The minute he stopped yelling we all ran out of the room, except for
my poor aunt. She always stayed to try to fix everything. That first temper
tantrum of Frank’s happened when he was married to my aunt for only just a few
weeks. Needless to say, things got much worst.
His tantrums increased in duration and frequency after that.
After a while, one blowup ran into another. Some of his frenzies were more
memorable than others. One of Aunt Amy’s jobs was to make up his lunch and
then leave it right by the back door. Aunt Amy was then supposed to remind
Frank to pick up his lunch on the way out the door. One day, when she didn’t
remind him, he went crazy on her and started calling her “Lardass”. From that
day on, he only called her Amy when other people were around. At home, she was
just Lardass.
I was finally drifting off to sleep when one last memory
zaps me out of nowhere. I hadn’t thought about this in years. It happened
before Aunt Amy and Frank were married, so I was around seven years old. As I
recall, he was still putting on the virtuosity show with Aunt Amy and the
girls, but for some reason he dropped all pretense with me. In fact, I think
he was playing a game with me. He was daring me to go to Aunt Amy. He wanted
to stir things up. He was having us clean out the basement window wells of
leaves and stuff. I was nearby when Frank called me over to look in one of the
window wells. I went over and saw a mother rabbit and her bunnies curled up
together. They were so beautiful, all silky and smooth. I loved animals,
especially baby animals. I bent over to stroke a baby rabbit with my index
finger when suddenly I felt a hard WACK on my chest. I flew back a few feet
and my head snapped back. My chest felt stung by the hard slap. Frank then
screamed at me that rabbits were dirty. They were full of germs. He was going
to throw the baby rabbits in a bucket of water and drown them because who knows
what disease they might carry. The entire time he was telling me, I knew he
was enjoying himself. I could see it in his smiling eyes.