Authors: Donna Mabry
I saw Clara hanging out her wash one
Wednesday morning and went over to chat for a while.
As I came close to her, I saw she had dark circles under
her eyes.
“I hope you’re not taking sick. Do you have a
fever?”
“No, no fever. Really, I’ll be all right,” Clara
said, shaking out a sheet before hanging it on the line.
I took the other end of the sheet and held it up while
Clara pinned it. Something wasn’t right. I could tell,
but I didn’t want to be nosy, so I held my peace.
“I never knew you to do your wash on a
Wednesday,” I said. “Maybe my odd habits are
rubbing off on you.” I did my own clothes any time it
struck my fancy. Clara shook her head, “It isn’t that,
but I do like how you wash clothes any day you want.”
I laughed. “That’s just because Mom Foley does
hers on a Monday, and I don’t want to mix in on her
routine.”
Clara looked over at my back door. “I wouldn’t
want to upset her, either.”
Clara and I finished hanging up the sheets, and
Clara stretched her back. “Let’s sit for a spell and have
some tea.”
She and I fetched the drinks from her kitchen and
sat in the twin rockers on Clara’s back porch. I knew
that she needed to unburden herself of something, but
I didn’t want to force her to talk about it before she
was ready. We sat quiet for a few minutes and then
Clara began, “If you don’t want to answer this, don’t,
but I was wondering, how are things with you and
George, I mean, you know, in private?”
I knew what she meant, but my private life was
something I’d never talked about much with anyone,
even my husbands. I swallowed hard and stared out at
the oak tree like I was examining the branch
arrangement. Normally, I wouldn’t think of talking
about so personal a thing to anyone, but maybe it
would be all right to confide in Clara. I trusted her, and
she had something on her mind that she needed to talk
about with another woman. I said, “Not like it was with
me and my first husband. James and I fit together, you
see, and George is, --is different. He can’t do all he
wants because he’s so big it hurts me.”
“Well, that part of my married life isn’t what I
expected with Alfred and me, either.” Clara stared off
in the other direction, neither of us wanting to look one
another in the eyes. I waited for her to go on, and when
she didn’t, I asked, “Is that why you look so peaked
this morning?”
“Yes, he bothered me last night.”
“Is he too much for you, like George is for me?”
“No, he isn’t so big he hurts me,” she sighed and
took a deep breath. “I been wanting to talk to someone
about this for fifteen years, but I was always afraid to,
Maude. You’re the first one I felt close enough to that
I can tell it, and I’ve only known you a few weeks.”
“Go ahead, Clara. It’ll be between you and me.”
Clara took another deep breath. “Well, he’s older
than I am, so he doesn’t bother me as often as he used
to, and that’s some help. It’s just that when he does, he
won’t wear anything, so he does it naked and he wants
me naked, too.”
I waited. Being naked didn’t seem like a
problem. James and I almost always had relations
without any nightclothes, especially in the warm days
of summer. When Clara didn’t go on, I urged her a
little. “That doesn’t seem bad, Clara.”
“No, not by itself it isn’t, it’s just that when he-, ah, when he--, oh, I don’t know how to say it.”
“Just go ahead and tell me, Clara.”
“When he gets done, he passes out and messes
the bed. It gets all over him and the bed--, and Maude,
it gets all over me.”
I tried to think of some sort of words that might
comfort Clara. “He doesn’t hit you or hurt you, or
anything like that, does he?”
“Oh, no, he’s never hit me once in all the years
we been married. But,--it’s awful, Maude. When he
passes out like that, he’s so heavy I have to push him
off me, and I can’t get him out of the bed to clean up
after him until the morning.”
“What do you do?”
“I get up and clean myself and then go sleep on
the sofa. I asked him to wear his underwear, because
that might help keep things cleaner, but he refuses.”
“Has he always messed the bed like that?”
“Ever since the very first time we did it. Back then, he
was younger and not so heavy and he wanted it a lot
more. When we were first married, he bothered me
almost every night.”
I nodded, kept my eyes on the oak tree, and
considered that there were worse things than going to
bed with George. Finally, I looked at Clara, who still
had her head turned, and reached out and took her
hand, “We all got something to bear, Clara. At least he
doesn’t want it as much as he used to. Maybe someday
soon he’ll get to where he won’t want it at all.”
“That would be an answer to prayer, Maude.
There’s just that one thing wrong with him. He’s a
good husband to me. He treats me kind, and he loves
his little girl, and he gives us anything we need.”
“There’s a whole lot of women would wish for
that from their husbands, Clara, a whole lot.”
“I don’t know if they’d want to take what comes
with it, Maude.”
I reflected that they probably wouldn’t. After
that day, I could just look at Clara and know by her
face when Alfred had bothered her the night before.
It was on a Monday, about a month after I came to
Kennett, when I walked to town to check on my order
for fabric and wallpaper. I was excited when the
shopkeeper told me they’d finally received what I
wanted for the bedroom. He gathered up the paste and
brushes and other things I would need, added them to
the bill that George paid once a month, and said he
would hold them in the back room until George came
to bring them home.
I stopped by to tell him that my order was in. I
found him like I always did, with his feet up on the
desk, his chin on his chest, and sound asleep. I put my
hand on his knee and shook it to wake him. He opened
his eyes and smiled at me. “Maude, what brings you to
town?”
“My things are in at the store. You can pick them
up on your way home. I can’t wait for us to start work
on the bedroom. It’s going to be so nice, George.”
He smiled at how excited I was, nodded a little,
and closed his eyes to go back to his nap. “I know
you’re going to have a good time with it, Maude. I’ll
see you for supper, like always, unless someone robs
the bank or something.” Before I could answer him, he
was asleep.
I left the office and stopped to talk to several
people on my way home. They all asked after George
and smiled when I said he was just fine. Again, I
though how nice it was that everybody liked George.
I’d been looking forward to the decorating ever
since the day I had George’s permission to place the
order. When he came home that night, I almost ran out
to meet him, but he hadn’t brought the supplies home
with him.
I tried to hide my disappointment. “I thought
you’d be bringing my things home with you, George.”
“I’ll have to hitch up the wagon one day. I can’t
bring all that on the horse.”
“You’ll do that tomorrow?”
“Sure,” he said.
But when I saw him ride off to work the next
morning, he wasn’t driving the wagon. He was riding
his horse like he always did. I asked him again that
night, and again, he said he’d forgotten, but would do
it the next day, but he didn’t.
On Friday morning, when George rode his horse
into town again, I went over to Clara’s.
“I’d like to borrow that little play wagon of
Maggie’s if I could, Clara. Looks like the only way I’m
going to get my things here is if I go get them myself.”
“Go right ahead and take it, Maude. We haven’t
used it in a long time. You can keep it. I’m not busy
now and it’s such a pretty day. I’ll walk in to town with
you.”
After the storekeeper loaded my decorating
supplies into the wagon, I wanted to show George
what I’d chosen. “Let’s stop by the Sheriff’s office on
our way home,” I told Clara.
She chuckled. “All right.”
As usual, George was napping when we arrived.
I shook his leg a little harder than usual. He smiled
sheepishly at us when I told him why we’d come, and
rubbed his chin that way he always did when he
needed a minute to think of what he was going to say.
“I kept intending to bring it, but I forget.”
There were no smiles from me this time. “I’ll get
it home by myself. We brought Maggie’s little wagon
to put it in.”
“All right, Maude. Just let me know if you want
anything else. Nice to see you, Clara. Say hello to
Alfred and Maggie for me.” He closed his eyes.
Outside, Clara saw my frown and noticed that
my lips were pressed tightly together. She knew I was
angry, so she kept quiet while we began the walk
home. It was such a pretty day, like Clara had said, and
it wasn’t long before my anger went away. I finally had
my things, but even though we talked happily about
my plans for the bedroom, in the back of my mind, I
kept thinking about George.
He slept soundly every night and was asleep
every time I saw him at work. How in the world could
anyone sleep that much? When I left home that
morning, the dogs and cats were all lying around the
back yard taking their morning naps. It would be about
an hour before they woke for lunch and settled down
to take their afternoon naps.
He must be part dog or
cat.
On Saturdays, George didn’t stay at the office all
day. His habit had been just to go in to see the deputy,
who was in charge for the weekend, and after chatting
with one person or another, he would have a few beers
at the saloon and then ride home. I didn’t approve of
drinking anything with alcohol, but after he told me he
didn’t go to church, I wasn’t surprised.
Most Saturdays, he was back at the house by
noon for his dinner. I’d been thinking we would start
putting up the wallpaper after we ate. When he didn’t
get home at the usual time, I walked out to the road
and looked to see if he was coming. I did that every
half-hour until five o’clock, but there was no sign of
him. His mother was putting supper on the table at six,
the usual time, when he finally rode up. I watched out
of the upstairs window as he went to the barn and
began his nightly ritual of taking care of his horse.
I was jealous of Pawnee. He paid a lot more
attention to that horse than he did to me. We ate in
silence, the usually chattering Lulu picking up on my
mood. After supper, Lulu went to play in the yard with
Maggie, and I went upstairs and sewed for a while
until it was dark.
George didn’t come upstairs until I was in bed. I
waited until he got under the covers to say anything.
He settled his body down with his back to me. I lay on
my back, not touching him. “I was thinking that we’d
put the paper up today, George. Did something happen
in town to keep you there?”
“I had a few beers with some of the boys from
one of the farms that I hadn’t seen for a while, and time
got away from me. We can start on the paper
tomorrow.”
It would never occur to me to raise my voice but
I couldn’t help tell him how disappointed I was in him.
“You know good and well that I’d never do such a
thing on the Lord ’s Day, George.”
He yawned loudly. “Suit yourself, but I can’t do
it by myself you know. It takes two people to hang
wallpaper.”
I sparked at that. “I’ve seen Tommy hang paper
at Helen’s house all alone and do a fine job of it, too,
but I won’t ask you to work on Sunday, even if you’re
not a Christian.”
He sat up in the bed and sighed deeply. “Maude,
it isn’t that I’m a heathen, just because I don’t go to
church.”
“What about your Wakondah?”
“He’s not my Wakondah. He’s my mother’s
Wakondah. I believe in God and I believe that Jesus
was His Son and all of that. I just don’t go to church. I
never saw the need for it. That doesn’t make me a
heathen.”
“How can you be saved and not go to church?”
“Saved--who said I was saved?”
“You just said you believe in Jesus.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it like you mean it.”
I would have to think that one over. It somehow
comforted me that at least he admitted he believed in
Jesus in some way or another. I would pray twice as
much that God would save him.
I turned my back and he lay down. Over my
shoulder I asked, “Will you promise me that we’ll put
up the paper next Saturday?”
He sighed again. “If someone doesn’t rob the
bank.”
When two more Saturdays passed and George
found excuses to stay in town all day, I gave up hope
of his helping me. Clara and I walked into town and
talked to the storeowner about the right way to hang
paper. He chuckled to himself and wrote down
directions for me. As I left the store, he shook his head
and said, “That George.”
On Tuesday, following the storekeeper’s
directions, Clara and I managed to get one wall of the
bedroom papered. It took us all afternoon, but I was
very happy about it, and thought it came out
wonderful. I waited for George to tell me how nice it
looked. If he noticed it at all, he didn’t say. He went to
bed without a word.
On Wednesday, Clara and I did the second wall,
getting better at the work and picking up speed as we
gained experience. We did the third and fourth walls
on Thursday and were finished. The difference in the
room was amazing. It had gone from drab and dull to
bright, pretty and cheerful. George either didn’t notice
or pretended not to notice.
I set up my little round quilting frame by one of
the windows in the bedroom and spent my afternoons
working on the new bedding. With Mom Foley still
doing most of the housework, I was happy to have
something to fill my spare time. George’s mother and
I had worked out a truce concerning that. She made
him his bacon-grease/bread/coffee breakfast every
morning, and she allowed me to help her with supper.
She had a large garden planted in the back yard,
surrounded by chicken wire to keep the poultry out. I
made and fenced my own garden on the other side,
planting the things I enjoyed that weren’t grown in the
other plot. I took cuttings from Clara’s roses and lilacs
and other shrubs and coaxed them into rooting. I
planted them in the front yard and hoped they would
make the front of the house pretty for the next summer.
I bought bulbs in town that would grow the next
spring and planted crocus, tulips and hyacinth in rows
down the walk from the front step to the road. I left the
downstairs cleaning to Mom Foley and cleaned my
room and Lulu’s room and did our laundry. It still
wasn’t enough work to fill my day. Sewing the
bedding and curtains gave me a great sense of
satisfaction, and I almost dreaded the time when they
would be finished.
When it came time for Lulu to start back to
school, George’s mother brooded like an old hen. For
some reason that I didn’t understand, she and my girl
had really taken to one another. They worked together
in the garden while the old woman told stories about
her people, about the Holy men, the councils that had
included her grandfather and her father, the Big Hill
Osage and the Sky people. Lulu loved hearing them.
On the day that school started, Lulu and Maggie
went off hand in hand, swinging their lunch pails. They
joined a few other girls walking by on their way to the
schoolhouse. They were all really looking forward to
classes. To celebrate the occasion, I’d made two new
dresses for Lulu and stood on the porch to see the girls
off. George’s mother watched from the side yard as
they disappeared down the road. I almost felt sorry for
her.
In the afternoon, I saw her walk down to the road
several times and peer into the distance until the girls
returned. When she finally caught sight of them
coming home, she went back to her cleaning without
saying a word.