Just say it!

‘Just say it, you silently reminded yourself. You knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.

It made you angry but so what? There wasn’t anyone who cared and you didn’t have the privilege to be upset anyway.

You looked her in the face and tried to grimace a smile. It was your thousandth false smile and you were getting better at it.

“You’ll have to sleep with the kids in the attic. I have guests tonight.” Babsey said not in the least concerned with my response.

‘Just say it…” I muttered under my breathe.

But Babsey was already half way down the corridor of the ugly little square house we shared.

There were two bedrooms in total and the attic. One side of the house contained the two rooms, the kitchen and a makeshift dining and living area. The other side contained a small washroom and storage area. The attic was a few steps above.

The house was clean; you saw to that. You woke every morning at 5 am and started with the floors scrubbing and wiping until everything gleamed. Then you started on breakfast. Babsey left for work at 7:30 am every morning. It was you who made sure that her breakfast of coffee, spanish omelette and soft boiled potato was prepared just as she liked it.

You had no guts and less glory. This was the life you resigned to. With a sigh, you turned and headed to the attic. One day you’d have the guts to say it! You hated being her throw rug. You hated being her slave. You hated giving up your room (perhaps it was just –the room). You hated the scrapes and boils that were developing on your calloused hands. You hated having to say yes…when you really meant no.

It was time to wake the children-your children.

They were still asleep. Joe whined, Abby curled up further in her blanket and Nessy starred at you with eyes open wide.

“Mom I’m starved!”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Why do we have to wake up so early?”

It was the same every morning. You barely bat an eye and summon them all out.

“Faces washed, beds made and say your prayers.” You say to them. With that you turned and left them to it.

As you walk down the steps your mind travels. It’s been two years now since the great illness. Frank wasn’t much of a partner but he was something. He brought you a few coins every night and was a warm body in bed but that was pretty much all. When he caught the deadly flu, you knew his death was imminent. Whether it was a blessing or a curse is still a tussle of thoughts in your mind.

“For the sake of the children, I should remember him fondly.” You say to yourself.

In the kitchen you pour gray watery maize porridge into three wooden bowls. There would be a crust of bread for each of them and a shared cup of tea.

“What’s for breakfast Ma?”

It was Nessy. She was always the first to the table and always asked the same question. You smile and bend to cup her face in your hands.

“My baby child, it’s porridge and bread with a bit of tea. It’s your favorite.” Nessy smiled and hugged me tight.

“Ma, when can we have eggs or potatoes or fresh bread even?” it was Joe.

You sigh and give your oldest child a half smile. “One day Joe…One day.”

“It’s always one day.” Joe plunked into his seat at the tiny table and crossed his arms. “Why does aunt Babsey get all the good stuff?” He rattled on.

Before you could answer Abby does. She was always the level headed one.

“Remember the plan Joe. Ma has a head on her shoulders after all. We just have to be patient a little longer. Right Ma?”

You nod and place the bowls of watery porridge before them.

Tears well up in your eyes but you hold back. Frank left you and the kids with nothing. With six months unpaid rent you barely had enough to bury him and pay off the debtors. Then you had to move in with Babsey. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful, it’s just that you and Babsey were so different. It was like that since you first met her. She was all you had after your parents died in the house fire thirty odd years ago. She was kind enough to take you and your three kids in after Frank died and you lost the house; that says a lot. But you couldn’t get past the strange behavior and odd requests.

You never knew when but you always knew it was on the horizon. Every so often Babsey would ask you to give up your bed room. It was the room beside hers. There was a shared bathroom there and that section of the house could be locked up from the rest. Babsey had guests over. You were never privileged to know who or even see who, but you knew someone or ‘someones’ came there.

Tonight was going to be such a night.

You could feel the heat rise in your chest. It made you angry. For two years since it started, you never said anything. But secretly you hated it. You hated being put out like a vagabond. And who was it that was in your room? What did they do in there? Wasn’t it enough that you cooked and cleaned, put up with her snobbishness and answered her every call?

“…huh Ma. Can I?” you were whisked back to reality by Nessy. What was she saying?

“What is it Nessy?” you ask with some agitation.

“More Mama! I want more!?” Nessy begged.

“There isn’t any and you well know it. Upstairs now! Clean up and then come back down for your lessons.” Why did they always pester you for more? There was NO MORE! There wouldn’t be ANY MORE until you completed the plan.

For three years you had been saving up the coins. It wasn’t much. The lessons you gave to the neighbor’s children was a poor fetch. The ironing service you offered when you could brought in even less. But it was adding up. Soon you would be able to set up a tiny Kiosk. 

Joe and Abey stare at you for a while. They know when the mood takes you. They also know there is little they can do until the moment passes. Nessy sniffles as she runs up the stairs to the attic.

***

It’s just past midnight. Your eyes fly open as the sound of creaking reaches your ears. It’s the attic steps. What did Babsey want now? Then it occurred to you. Babsey never came to the attic. She hated the sight of the children. Who was it then?

You slid quietly off of the makeshift old feather and rag mattress and moved towards the entrance. There was no door, just a hanging cloth partition. Just as you were about to draw it aside to look down the steps, you heard Babsey.

“Pierre! Over here my love. There is nothing on that side. The warmth is over here.” She crackled a laugh that was supposed to be enticing. You find it shallow and disgusting.”

“Aha… I …uh.. the washroom?” A crude rough lascivious voice responded. It was too close to the attic entrance.

“This way then.” Babsey was beckoning with her voice.

The figure rescinded down the steps.

“Pierre…” you thought to yourself, “Who in the hell was Pierre?” There was also the distinct sound of music and shuffling beyond Babsey’s door. You heard for just that instant when she came to retrieve…Pierre. Dear God! What was Babsey up to? Was she running a brothel under your nose? Was she? How could she? With the children under the same roof? You bubbled with a new heat. This was not going to go on at all; not at all.

***

It was morning. You barely slept a wink. You got up about half an hour earlier than usual and started the sweeping and mopping. There would be washing today too and baking. Babsey enjoyed fresh baked biscuits on the weekend.

Your indignation had not subsided. On the contrary, it welled up bigger on the inside of you. You were just waiting. This was the morning. You would finally give a piece of your mind…maybe all of it! It was time Babsey knew what was on your mind.

She came out of her room at her usual time. She was finely dressed with not a hair out of place. Her chin pointed high in the air and as usual she made no eye contact. She sat at the table.

You placed the breakfast before her. The plate landed with a thud. Babsey jumped in her seat a bit. She did not look up. You stood in front of her not moving.

Finally she spoke.

“Is there something you wish to say Nan? Her voice had an aloofness. Did she even care? She never looked up.

“There is something.” You tried to sound strong but your voice quivered.

‘Just say it’ , you silently reminded yourself. You knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.

“I don’t…”

That was as far as you got. Babsey cut you off.

“Of course the bills need to be paid around here. One may not like the means but one must never…be…ungrateful!” Babsey raised her eyes and they locked with yours.

You froze. The words became confuddled in your mind and your tongue was heavy.

Babsey stood. Her eyes were still locked with yours. She remained as cool as a cucumber. Finally she tore her gaze away and shoved the plate away. “My appetite is ruined. Give it to the strays.” With that she rose and left the kitchen.

You stared at the back of her as she left. Your mind was in a boggle. Who exactly was the fiend here?

THE END