Lies and More Lies, part eight

A lousy Saturday morning had turned into an even lousier Saturday afternoon. After a long night of imbibing, Leta had been awakened first by the noise of her children having breakfast. Once she ushered them out of the house for the duration of the day, she tried to sleep some more, but was more brutally awakened by an emergency. Her 12-year-old son Dale had injured himself enough to warrant a doctor’s examination. His wound was a large gash in his leg that required several stitches. While the doctor was taking care of this, her husband, as hung over as she was, awoke and strongly objected to the commotion. He believed that children should not be heard or even seen in the house. Using what little strength she had after the ordeal, she gently persuaded her husband to dress, wash his face and take some coffee.

It was nearly one o’clock. The doctor was gone; the sun was blazing; the temperature was high; and the air was thick with humidity. She and her husband Leech were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. The house was quiet. Both of her children were upstairs in her son’s bedroom.

Her husband, however, was obviously furious about all that had transpired. Never having children of his own, he had told her that they were nothing but a troublesome burden.

He glared at her for a few minutes, sipped his coffee and then turned his gaze back toward the breadbox.

Leta felt her entire countenance sink. Her hope of creating a family that consisted of her current husband and children had been irrevocably destroyed. She had spent the past five months making concessions, adjusting and readjusting the household and her own behavior to take care of her husband and children. She had endeavored to keep them separate, which was taxing enough on a weekday when her husband was at work, but weekends were nearly impossible. Her children tried, but they were children. Even she wasn’t sure she could have avoided ever seeing or hearing someone else who lived in the same house. She also thought that Leech deliberately tried to make the situation worse. More than not wanting to see or hear the children, he wanted her to behave as if they did not exist. He interfered in her ability to feed and take care of them. He refused to follow a schedule, so she never knew when he might appear. She had hoped at least to make it though the summer. She hoped that once school started in the fall, their situation would change. The children would be in school, and she would have time to reorganize their lives in a way that everyone was properly nurtured. Also, then she would have some time for herself. Dale’s injury was unexpected and cut through the tenuous lifestyle they had all been leading, and now Leta was certain that her husband would become more resolute in his demands. He had just said he would.

A short time later, Leta left the house with Vivian to purchase groceries. Leta needed to get away, if only for a short while, to clear her head and calm her nerves. She also didn’t want to be alone. At least, she told herself, with the gash and stitches in his leg, Dale would remain upstairs and quiet. She left him a glass of water, his favorite book—Black Beauty—some paper and a sharpened pencil for drawing, and explicit instructions that he was supposed to rest. Her husband was sitting on the back stoop, sipping whiskey and smoking a cigar. She left him another cigar and the day’s newspaper.

While they didn’t need anything from the store specifically, the difficulty of the day indicated to her that a special meal might soften the anger and tension that arose from Dale’s accident. Not only had her husband expressed great dismay about Dale’s leg and been very cold to her, but when he finished his coffee, he told her with a vicious growl in his voice that he wasn’t going to pay for the doctor’s visit. This was yet another complication that she would have to resolve.

Leta and Vivian walked in silence the three blocks to the grocer’s. The day had gotten warmer and more humid. The heavy air clung to them, and perspiration collected on Leta’s neck. As they perused the vegetables on wooden shelves outside the entrance of the store, she wiped the back of her neck with a handkerchief. While her husband wasn’t much of a vegetable eater, he would eat a peach pie, and there were fresh watermelon, too. Dale liked watermelon. She also bought some extra potatoes. With Vivian carrying the purchases, they went past the tailor’s to the butcher shop. Again, Leta wiped the perspiration from her neck.

The butcher was serving on two other customers, but he managed a quick, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hoose. It sure is a hot one today, ain’t it?”

“It most certainly is,” she agreed, as examined the cuts of beef available.

Leta paid little attention to the other customers. She didn’t recognize either woman, and she had more pressing business on her mind.

“The pork is pretty good today,” the butcher noted as he finished with one customer and then turned to the other.

“I was thinking beef,” Leta said.

“I’d try the pork. It’s very tender.”

While she waited, Leta took another look. She didn’t notice the other woman approach her.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” the woman said. Leta turned to her.

“Yes?” Leta responded.

“I couldn’t help overhearing what the butcher said,” the woman explained. “Do you know a Leech Hoose?”

“Why, yes, I do,” Leta answered. “He’s my husband.”

“Your husband?” the woman repeated questioningly.

“Yes,” Leta stated, her curiosity suddenly aroused.

“You’re married to him?”

“Yes.”

The woman was clutching the hand of a little girl, about the age of seven. The woman was younger than she, although she looked more worn and anxious. She was thin, as was the little girl, and her face was pale.

“And this pretty girl?”

“She’s my daughter,” Leta answered, suddenly impatient. “What do you want?’

“I’m Goldie,” the woman answered, then lowered her head.

Leta shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“Goldie,” the woman repeated. “Goldie Hoose.”

“A relative?” Leta questioned.

“I’m his wife,” the woman answered.

To be continued.

Lies and More Lies, part seven

It was Saturday, nearly noon, and Leta's day was going terribly. Not only was she suffering the after-affects of drinking too much alcohol the previous evening, but her son Dale, while playing outside, had hurt himself. He had been the tree in their front yard, slipped and caught his leg on a branch, which left a large gash. While she waited for the doctor, she attempted to make herself presentable—washed her face, combed her hair, pinched her ashen cheeks, put on a little lipstick, and dressed.

She was just finishing when she heard the doctor drive up. She raced down the stairs, so he wouldn’t ring the bell and quietly led him up the stairs to Dale’s room, so they didn’t wake her husband, who was still asleep. Vivian was still pressing rags against Dale’s leg. The doctor smiled and nodded toward her, and she stepped away.

During the doctor’s ministrations, which eventually required several stitches, Leta became so engrossed that she failed to hear her husband wake. In her defense, Leech was always rather quiet, even rising after a night of drinking. This was very different from her previous husband Ora Freeman. Ora would rouse from a drunken sleep with a curse on his breath, loudly carrying on until his body and head both had cleared. In contrast, Leech would open his eyes, lie flat on his back for several minutes, get out of bed, stand for a few more minutes to get his bearing, and then proceed steadily to the lavatory. On this particular morning, he was drawn to the commotion to Dale’s bedroom.

“What the hell is going on here?” Leech demanded, his loud screeching voice piercing the intense concentration of the room. Leta jumped. A pinch of pain grabbed her head, and a wave of anxiety clutched her back.

Leech was standing in the doorway, and Leta, who had been assisting the doctor, quickly left her son to calm her husband.

“It’s nothing,” she said plaintively, blocking the action from him. “Dale has a little scrape in his leg, that’s all. Now why don’t we get dressed, and then go downstairs for some coffee. I can have a fresh pot percolating in a couple of minutes.”

“You called the doctor?” Leech continued, pushing her aside. “For a little scrape?”

He strode over to where the doctor was finishing an application of stitches. Then he turned to Leta.

“This doesn’t look like a little scrape to me.”

“He’ll be fine,” Leta said, wishing her husband would leave the room. She turned to her daughter. “Vivian, go make a pot of coffee.” Then she turned back to her husband. “Vivian’s going to make you some coffee. Why don’t you finish getting dressed and go downstairs?”

Leech was a sight. He was still wearing his shirt from the night before, and it was sporadically buttoned, as if he had forgotten how to put it on. Part of it was tucked inside his undershorts, because he was not wearing trousers. His legs were bare, and he only wore one sock. Evidently he spilled something on himself the previous night for there was a brown stain running down the left side of his shirt. One sleeve was rolled, but the other hung limply.

He belched loudly.

“I don’t like this, Mrs. Hoose,” he said. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Yes, I know,” she said quietly. “But the doctor’s nearly finished. Now, let’s get ourselves some coffee. You’ll feel better after some coffee.”

“I feel fine,” he grumbled, as he turned away from the room.

“Of course, you do,” Leta agreed, standing close to him, but also clear of him. When he was in this state, he also hated to be touched.

A short time later, after the doctor left, as the two of them were drinking coffee in the kitchen, he was mostly distant. She knew his head was pounding. Her own was not much different. Not only had they stayed at the speakeasy until it closed for the night, but they also drank more than their usual maximum. He was staring at the breadbox. She was watching him. Then he turned his head slowly toward her.

“There is no question, Mrs. Hoose,” he said, “Children are a burden.”

To be continued.

Lies and More Lies, part six

Leta was having a bad Saturday. First she had been jarred awake in the mid-morning after sleeping later than usual. This was because she and her husband had spent a much longer time the prior evening at the speakeasy. He had been in a merry mood after some triumph at work and drank heavily up until the time they left. All evening and well into the night they drank and laughed with their companions until the crowd had dissipated and they were nearly by themselves in the establishment. Fortunately, their drive home was rather short, for he was unsteady at the wheel and wove back and forth on the street before finally parking at an angle in front of their house. They helped each other inside and up the stairs, where they both collapsed into bed.

The sound of the children getting their breakfast awoke her like a loud clanging in her ears. She quickly turned to her husband. Fortunately, he was still sleeping soundly, but that might not last long with the commotion that was rushing from the kitchen in the back of the house, through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. She stumbled around the room until she found her robe and hurried clumsily down the stairs, closing the bedroom door behind her. Every step seemed to be a little out of place. It was nearly nine o’clock. Dale was sitting at the table with a half-empty glass of milk. Vivian was at the sink, washing their breakfast dishes. The aroma of oatmeal and toast hung in the air. Being early August, the air was already warm and humid.

“Good morning, Ma,” Dale whispered cheerfully.

“What are you doing?” Leta demanded furiously. “What’s all this racket?” Her own voice felt like someone knocking her in the head.

Dale winced and sank into his chair, and Vivian turned toward them, freezing with her hands covered with suds.

“All this noise you’re making woke me up, and any minute you’re going to wake up Mr. Hoose! And you know we don’t want that to happen,” Leta continued in a harsh whisper.

Both of the children stared at her. Her head was pounding and she rubbed her temples with one hand. Then she thought she heard a noise from upstairs. Was her husband waking?

“Let’s go, let’s go!” she ordered. She grabbed Dale’s glass and pushed Vivian aside to plunge it into the water. “You’re not even dressed. What time is it? I want you dressed and out of the house in five minutes!”

Again, the children didn’t move.

“March!” she snapped.

The children rushed out of the room, leaving the nearly finished dishes and sink filled with sudsy water. While they were being very quiet, even the slightest noise seemed like thunder to Leta. With her hands dripping, she sat down at the table. Her strength had given out, and all she wanted to do was lie down.

After a few moments, she stumbled her way to the sofa and lay down. While she thought she heard her children slip out of the house, she could not be sure. She hoped, for all their sakes, that they had. Then darkness overtook her.

She was awakened suddenly by Vivian. The girl was shaking her shoulder and calling her. While she did not know how long this had been going on or even how long she had been sleeping, Leta knew immediately that the girl’s voice was louder than necessary. She raised her hands anxiously with several shushing noises. Once Vivian saw that she was awake, she became quieter instantly.

“What time is it?” she inquired, still groggy.

“Ma,” Vivian said forcefully. “It’s Dale. He fell. He cut himself pretty bad.”

“What?”

Everything was hazy, and while she heard her daughter’s words, she wasn’t sure she understood them.

“He’s got a big gash on his leg,” Vivian clarified.

“Oh Lord,” Leta said, pulling herself into a sitting position.

“He’s on the porch,” Vivian said, pulling on her arm to help her stand. “I think he needs a doctor.”

Vivian was correct. Dale’s leg was covered in blood, and he was sobbing uncontrollably when she reached him. She instructed her daughter to get three clean rags, and once she returned to hold them firmly on the bleeding area. He definitely needed treatment. After she telephoned the doctor, she ran across the street. Mr. Simmons was working in his flowerbeds. Was it that late in the day? She asked him if he would assist her in bringing Dale into the house. He needed to be carried, and she did not have the strength to lift him. Her husband was not at home to assist her. Mr. Simmons dropped everything and immediately complied. Dale’s sobs had reduced themselves to whimpers, and Mr. Simmons was as gentle with him as a devoted father. He was even remarkably quiet, considering the circumstance, and that she had obviously lied about her husband.

“You need to keep the pressure on,” Mr. Simmons said, referring to the wound. The rags were already full of blood.

“Yes, yes,” Leta said as Vivian went to get more rags. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered. “You called the doctor?”

“He’s on his way,” Leta answered, and she escorted her neighbor back to the front door.

“You take care now,” he said.

Once he left, she saw herself in the mirror. She was a disheveled mess—her hair, her robe was buttoned askew and barely covered her slip. She was wearing one stocking, but not the other. Her eyes were puffy and red. And her breath reeked. Startled and embarrassed, she hurried up the stairs and rushed into her bedroom. Her husband was still sound asleep, thank goodness, She hurriedly changed her clothes and ran a brush through her hair, leaving the door open if Vivian came for her.

To be continued.

Lies and More Lies, part five

Life with Leech Hoose was not progressing as expected. Leta thought she had been more selective in choosing him as a mate. He was, after all, her fourth husband. When they met, she was in a terrible living situation with her third husband, who was never present, and left her with no food or ability to pay their household bills. She and her children were starting to look ragged. Leech, she believed, was a godsend. He was considerate and compassionate. He was kind and gentle. He seemed genuinely to like her. When they married, she believed that things would get better for her, and for her children. While he was awkward with them, he seemed to be accepting. 

After five months of marriage, she was no longer feeling that he liked her at all. Certainly, he wanted to spend time with her, eat with her, share a bed with her, and, most enthusiastically, go drinking with her. While he was sometimes impulsive about taking her along on his daily excursions to their local speakeasy, he wanted her to look nice when they went out. “I like to show off my beautiful wife to the lushes and losers,” she overheard him tell to the bartender one evening when she returned from the lavatory. However, he obviously detested that part of her that was a mother. She had children, and as far as he was concerned, they were nothing more than a “pack of rats running amok in the house.” If he had not been her husband, she could have responded to that vicious and negative remark with motherly strength and prowess, but she had to live with him. Her children had to live with him. All she could do was devise and execute a lifestyle that kept her children separated from her husband.

This made for a lot of stress and tension that she held inside her. Every day had more challenges than she could manage. She was basically living two lives at the same place at the same time—one with her husband and another with her children. In the morning, she would rise and prepare Leech’s breakfast. He would eat and then go to work. Then she would rouse the children and feed them their breakfast. During the day, she and the children would have full access to the house and yard. But at four o’clock, they began their evening preparation. She would start supper, and the children would remove all traces of their presence from the living room, kitchen, yard and bathroom. While Vivian watched whatever was cooking, Leta perform a final inspection throughout the house to make sure that neither child had forgotten any item—a toy, a book, or even Vivian’s sewing. Anything left would be confiscated. By five o’clock both children were in their individual bedrooms, and the kitchen table was set for two.

If all went well, her husband would arrive home from work, skim the newspaper, eat his supper, spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom, and then leave for two or three more hours. Once he was gone, she would feed the children, and they would clean up the kitchen. After this, the children would return to their rooms until morning under the strictest orders to be quiet. Even though it was summer and still light enough for the children to play outside, Leta could not risk Leech arriving home from his evening’s repast earlier than expected and find the children anywhere. Sometimes she would sit with the children, but most of the time, she sat alone in the living room, drinking beer and waiting for her husband’s return.

This was not the home life she had envisioned when she first started thinking about marriage to Leech Hoose. This was not the happy family she believed would come to pass when she began to feel that a relationship with him would be possible. This was not how she planned to live her life.

Fortunately, she had the beer to clam her nerves.

To be continued.