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.