Tunnel

No matter how honest we are, there is always a time when a big lie is called for. There’s the time I walked out the front door, when I was 5 or 6 and terrified to walk to school by myself. I stepped out of sight of the door then walked back along the edge of the apartment building until I reached the evergreen shrubs. I ducked behind them and forced myself to throw up. Then I went back inside and told my mom I was too sick to go to school. She demanded to see the alleged vomit. Was I ever thankful I’d had the smarts to actually throw up so I could “prove” how sick I was.

This got me a couple of days home, but I couldn’t skip school forever. Eventually they (the teachers and my mom) were going to make me go back. The teachers were the nuns at the catholic school I attended. They were supposed to be “good people” next only to priests who everyone knew were right next to God. They may have been even tighter with God than Jesus was. Or for that matter, closer even than Mary (God’s wife and Jesus’ mother for those of you who aren’t catholic) or Joseph (the man cuckolded by God because he took on the responsibility of being Jesus’ dad and Mary’s husband and he hadn’t even ‘been with’ Mary the way men and women do to make a baby.)

Well, anyway, on the third day after I puked in the bushes, I had to go back to school. I was still terrified of the walk, but couldn’t think of another way out of it. Maybe all the kids who waited for me in the tunnel had forgotten about me after all this time being gone. I hurried along the sidewalks, cutting through yard where I could to get to the tunnel before the group of kids from a public school could get there. I didn’t see anyone as I approached the entrance. I listened with the best listening pose I could muster and didn’t hear anything. Good! Maybe I’d arrived early after all.

I ran down the stairs and rounded the corner into the dark of the tunnel and almost slammed into the boy waiting with the group. He was on the edge of the group, and so was I. I stopped short because I couldn’t run through him and the rest of the group was beside him blocking the tunnel. The biggest boy, the one on the outside edge of the group farthest from the one I almost ran into said, “I told you she’d be here. She had to come back sometime.” He said it in a sneering tone. I hated that tone of voice, still do. No, no sneering tone used around me, and no whining ones either. Whine around me and you’re liable to be slapped before I even know what’s happening. It’s a knee-jerk reaction and happens faster than a lightning bolt, totally out of my control.

Several hands grabbed me and they started pulling me with them further into the tunnel. I was scared beyond belief. I couldn’t think. I may have started crying. I may have started praying. The tunnel smelled of mold or mildew, dirt, water, and cold concrete. I don’t know how it smelled like concrete, but if you’ve ever smelled that cold, wet, cement smell, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. I think I smelled urine. Had other people been trapped down here by these kids? Did they pee themselves? Ohhh, if only I were a boy, I’d pee straight on them! I bet they’d let go of me then.

They stopped near the middle of the tunnel they were dragging me toward, and then began hitting me with switches (the thin, pliable little twigs off branches that are so pliable they’ll bend right around your body without breaking, like a whip) and they left dandy little welts all over my legs and back. They stung for hours and eventually became little bruises. But they weren’t worried about how much I was going to suffer, only that they got to have the fun of inflicting the damage on me.

They apparently hated me, but I had no idea why. I reasoned, eventually, that it must be because of my spiffy blue and green catholic school uniform. They were all wearing K-mart clothes that didn’t even look particularly clean while my white blouse was almost luminous. And my saddle shoes were beautiful, brilliant black and white with no scuffed spots. It took my mom hours to keep them looking that way, but she managed it somehow.

The big kid nodded his head toward a rusty metal door that was in the wall on the far side of the tunnel from where I entered. It had bars in the top of it where there was a rectangle cut out of the door. Like a window, but there wasn’t any glass in it, just bars over it. He said, “See that?” and I nodded that I did. “There’s a big ol’ monster that lives in there, and he eats scrawny catholic kids like you.

If my fear hadn’t been near stroke level before that point, it was now. I was terrified of monsters. I’d never seen one, but everyone knew if you did, you weren’t going to live to tell anyone else what they looked like. “It lives in there, and there’s a big hole in the middle of that room that goes all the way to China. Can you speak Chinese? No? Well, they also eat little girls who can’t speak Chinese. They’ll turn you into fried rice and serve you for dinner.” I might have blacked out at that part. I was still on my feet, but I don’t remember what happened next.

Somehow, I was outside, running as if my life depended on it, maybe it did. I was almost to the first door of the drugstore on the corner. I raced into the store and down the aisle to the back of the store and then made a sharp left heading to the door on the other side of the building that opened onto the intersecting street. The druggist looked up and said, “Hey there, young lady, no running in the store!” I slowed down and said, “Sorry.”

Before opening the door, I looked around outside to make sure they weren’t in sight yet, they weren’t. I made a mad dash out the door, across the street, and through the buildings and got to the alley and the back entrance to the school yard. I ran so fast that when I got to the building my shoes wouldn’t stop on the smooth, blacktop surface. I turned in air and stopped when my back slammed into the brick wall. Man, it hurt a little but it felt really great being safe from that group of bullies. For some reason, unknown to me, going home was easier. There were more kids from my school walking and I never saw the bully group in the afternoon.

All was good in the world …. then morning came again and I had to go to school … again. I tried to tell mom I was sick, but she said, “Well, that’s too bad. You’re going to school no matter what young lady.” My hope-sail sagged. “And, furthermore…I better not see any vomit on my bushes, again, either!”

Great! There went my plan. Now I was going to have to hurry to beat the boys to that tunnel and I was leaving late. I ran out the door and down the sidewalk. I ran all the way to the entrance of the tunnel. I ran down the stairs and whipped around the corner into the dank darkness of the tunnel only to slam right into the biggest boy. He was solid! I bounced off him and he rocked back, nearly falling over, which made him even angrier. How dare I embarrass him in front of all his friends?

“Get her!” he screamed. And his henchmen jumped forward to grab me. Everyone was so shocked by seeing him faulter and me bounce backward that they weren’t their usual graceful selves so I was able to slip between them and run up the outside stairs into the safety of the sunlight and older pedestrian traffic. They didn’t follow me.

I made it to school with time to spare and I stood against the brick wall feeling the sunshine on my face and all was right in the world. It was Friday and the bullies would have the whole weekend to forget about this morning. And maybe, just maybe, I could catch some disease that would keep me home Monday. Where was Covid when I needed it?

Monday arrived and I had not been able to catch anything that would keep me home. Drat! Off to school I went. I crept quietly into the tunnel to find it empty. Whew! I still ran to the other side to make sure they didn’t catch up to me if they were coming. It was a good day.

Tuesday wasn’t so lucky. They were there again, but they were closer to the middle of the tunnel than usual. I had a few steps to think about what I was going to do. I walked straight up to the group, they had their backs to me, and with all the bravado I could muster I said, “Excuse me, I’d like to get through, please.” They all turned, in unison, and their mouths fell open when they saw me. Two boys stepped aside to let me pass but the biggest boy said, “Awww, now ain’t that sweet. Who you think yer talkin’ to? I know you ain’t talkin’ to me.”

I swallowed over the lump that was suddenly in my throat and told a whopper of a lie, ”Yes, I am. I have to warn you that I took karate classes over the weekend and I’m a black-belt now. I can kill you with my bare hands, so you need to leave me alone.” He studied me but I refused to look down, just brazenly stared right back in his face. In my mind I was thinking he would surely kill me now; but he didn’t. He stepped aside, slightly bowed in an almost gentlemanly manner, and let me pass.

Oh my gosh! I nearly swooned. If only I’d known how easy that was, I should have done this a month ago. I smiled all the way to school, so proud of myself for coming up with that bald faced lie. I was so happy I tried to whistle on my walk, hahaha, walk…not run…oh what an amazing feeling it was to just walk. Anyway, one of my front teeth was loose so my whistle was nothing more than a huge disappointment. Too bad really, I think I could’ve given old Bing Crosby a run for his money that morning.

Tuesday I sauntered off for school, a lilt in my step and a smile on my lips, looking forward to a casual stroll to school and a beautiful day. I casually walked down the steps and into the shadow of the tunnel only to be grabbed immediately and the big kids hand clapped over my mouth. He was behind me and he hissed into my left ear, “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? You’re nuthin’ but a liar. You can’t get a black-belt that fast, Well, I’m gonna show you how a smart mouth gets treated hereabouts.” He had control of my breathing and his friends were dragging me (and him) down the tunnel.

As we neared the middle, they opened the rusty door. It squealed a protest and so did I. He shoved me inside and as he was pushing me through the door jamb I saw the big hole filled with nasty smelling black water. I took a stumble-step and got my foot on the other side of that hole so I was precariously balanced on the edge. The wall were slimy, damp and stunk and I didn’t want to touch them, but in order to stay out of the hole, I had to put my hands out on them to stay balanced.

I heard their laughing subside as it faded into the distance. I took a deep breath and almost gagged on the putrid smell of the air in there. It was dark, very little light came through that barred slot toward the top of the door. It was over my head so I couldn’t see anything out of it except the dark ceiling in the tunnel. I started crying. I couldn’t wipe my cheeks or my nose because I would fall in the hole if I let go and I still couldn’t speak Chinese so I couldn’t fall in there.

Then I remembered the monster who was supposed to live in that room. I couldn’t see, hear, or feel any monster. But what if there was a hidden entrance, what if one of the walls turned into a doorway when you pushed in the right place?

I began screaming for help. My voice echoed all around me and after a few minutes my throat hurt. I stopped screaming and started crying again. I was too young to die. I was scared of dying. I alternated screaming and crying for almost an hour before someone final heard me and opened the door. It was a nice older man with white hair, kind eyes and a nice smile. He asked what had happened and he helped me into the drug store where they called the school and Sister Marie came to pick me up. She took me to Sister Lucinda’s office and they talked with Monsignor Denali. They had seen to my needs and made sure I didn’t need medical attention before they began their discussion. They failed to address my fear of the dark that I still carry around. I could hear words but not the entire conversation. Sister Lucinda then walked me all the way back to my house, in the middle of the morning, and knocked on the door.

I wish I would’ve had a movie camera to get the look on my mom’s face when she opened the door and saw the Reverend Mother there with me in tow. Mom sent me to my room while she and Sister Lucinda talked. Sister apologized to me for my troubles in getting to school and she hugged me and kissed the top of my head. I was certain I must be dying and was a little surprised that it didn’t hurt.

My mom looked at me for about 15 minutes before speaking. “Well, you’ve certainly mucked things up for me. But you won’t be walking to school alone anymore. I hope you’re happy.” I could tell by her tone that I shouldn’t be happy, so I held my happiness in check until she couldn’t see me. Oh happy days!