Casteel 1 - Heaven (24 page)

“Now,” continued Kitty, all business, "t'first thing we gotta do is scrub all that filth from yer skin. Wash that dirty, buggy hair. Kill t'lice yer bound t'have. Kill all t'nasty germs. That pa of yers has got t'have everythin, an ya've been wallowin in his filth since t'day ya were conceived. Why, t'tales they tell

about Luke Casteel in Winnerrow would curl hair betta than perms. But he's payin t'price fer all that fun now . . . payin a heavy price." She seemed glad, smiling her scary secret smile.

How did she know about Pa's disease? I started to say he was well now, but I was too tired to speak. "Oh, fergive me, honey. Yer feelins hurt? But

ya gotta understand I jus don't like yer pa." That confirmed my choice. Anyone who didn't

like Pa had to have good judgment. I sighed, then smiled at Kitty.

“Grew up in Winnerrow, parents still live there,” she continued; “in fact, they wouldn't live nowhere else. People get like that when theys neva go nowhere. Skerred livin, that's what I call it. Fraid if they leaves home no big city is gonna know they exist. In Atlanta, where I work, they'd be just nobody important. Don't know how t'do nothin like I do. Don't have no talents like mine. Now, we don't live in Atlanta, like we said before, but in this subdivision twenty miles away; both Cal an I work, an there we have'ta fight t'world. That's what it is, ya know, a daily battle out there, me an him against t'world. He's mine an I love him. I'd kill t'keep him.” She paused, eyeing me thoughtfully with hard, narrowed eyes.

“My shop is in a big, fancy hotel that draws all t'rich folks. Kin't buy a house here in Candlewick unless ya make more than thirty thousand a year, an with both Cal and me working, we double that some years. Why, honey, yer gomia love it, just love it. Ya'll go t'school in a three-​storied building where they have an indoor swimming pool, an auditorium where they show movies, an of course ya'll be much happier there than in that fil old second-​rate school . . . an jus think, yer right in time t'start t'new semester.”

It made me hurt to think of my old school, and to remember Miss Deale. It was there I'd learned about the rest of the world, the better world, the different world that cared about education, books, paintings, architecture, science . . . not just existing from day to day. And I hadn't even been able to say good-​bye to Miss Deale. I should have been nicer, more grateful for her caring. I should have thrown away my pride. I tried to stifle a sob. Then there was Logan, who might not have spoken because his parents were there that last time at church. Or some other reason. Now not only my beloved teacher but Logan too seemed unreal, like dreams I'd never have again. Even the cabin had gone fuzzy in my mind, and I'd left only hours ago.

Grandpa would be sound asleep by this time. And here the stores were still open and people were still shopping. Like Cal, off somewhere buying me new clothes that would be too large. I sighed heavily; some things never changed.

With leaden legs, I waited for Kitty to finish filling the fancy pink tub with water.

Steamy vapor clouded all the mirrors, filled my lungs, misted the air so Kitty seemed miles and miles away, and into fantasy land Kitty and I had drifted, up in the clouds near the moonblack, foggy night full of golden fish drifting with us. I felt drunk from lack of energy, swaying on my feet, and heard, as if truly from the moon, Kitty ordering me to undress and drop everything into the trash can she'd lined with a plastic bag, and out into the garbage would go everything I had on, to be thrown in the city dump and eventually burned.

Clumsily I began to undress.

“Yer gonna have everything new. Spendin a fortune on ya, girl, so ya think of that whenever ya feel homesick fer that pigsty cabin ya called home. NOW STRIP DOWN, INSTANTLY! Ya gotta learn t'move when I speak, not jus stand there like ya don't hear or understandunderstand?”

With fingers made awkward from fear and fatigue, I began to work on the buttons of my old dress. Why weren't my fingers working better, faster? Somehow I managed to unfasten two, and even as I did this, Kitty pulled from a cabinet drawer a plastic apron. “Stand on this and drop yer clothes down around yer feet. Don't let anything ya wear touch my clean carpet or my marble countertops.”

Naked, I stood on the plastic apron, with Kitty eyeing me up and down. “Why, bless my soul, yer not a little girl afta all. How old are ya anyway?”

“Fourteen,” I answered. My tongue felt thick, my thoughts thicker, my eyes so sleepy they had grit in them, and even as I tried to obey Kitty, I blinked, yawned, and swayed.

“When will ya be fifteen?” “February twenty-​second.” “Ya had yer first monthly bloody time yet?”

“Yes, started when I was almost thirteen.” "Well, now, neva would have guessed. When I

was yer age I had boobs, big ones. Made t'boys hot jus nook my way, but all of us kin't be that lucky, kin we?"

Nodding, I wished Kitty would leave me alone to take my first bath in a real porcelain tub.

Apparently Kitty had no intention of getting out, or giving me a moment to use the bathroom alone.

I sighed again and moved toward the pink toilet seat, realizing that she didn't intend to leave.

“NO! Firstya have t'cover t'seat with paper.” And even that body function had to wait for Kitty to spread tissues all over the seat, and then she turned her back. What good did that do when she could still hear, and there were mirrors everywhere to reflect everything even if they were cloudy from steam?

Then Kitty sprang into action. She squatted down near the tub and informed me as she tested the water temperature, “Hot water is what ya have'ta sit in. Gotta scrub ya with a brush, put sulfur an tar soap on that hair of yers t'kill all those nits ya must have.”

I tried to speak and tell Kitty I bathed more often than most hill people did, and once a week I washed my hair (only this morning), but I was without energy, without will to speak and defend myself. All kinds of confused emotions were churning within me, making me more tired and weak.

Funny how sick I felt. Silent screams stuck in my throat, tears froze behind my eyes, and, as Fanny often did, I wanted to yell and scream and throw some kind of tantrum, kick out and hurt somebody just so I

wouldn't hurt so much inside; but I did nothing but wait for the tub to fill.

And fill it did. With scalding water.

All that was pink in the small room suddenly seemed redand in that hellish misty red I saw Kitty taking off her pink knit top and pants. Underneath she wore a pink bikini bra and panties so small they hardly covered what they should.

Warily I edged away, watching Kitty move to pour something from a brown bottle into the tub. The stench of Lysol.

I knew the smell from school, when I'd stayed late to help Miss Deale, and the cleaning ladies and men had used Lysol in the rest rooms. I'd never heard of anyone taking a bath in Lysol.

Somehow a pink towel had found its way into my hand, a towel so large and thick I felt I could hide safely behind it. Not that anyone in the cabin had ever cared much about modesty, but I was ashamed to let Kitty see how thin I was.

“Put down the towel! Ya shouldn't touch my clean towel. All t'pink ones belong t'me, an only I use em, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma'am.” “Yes, Mother,” she corrected. "Neva call me

anything but Moth-​ther . . . say it like that." I said it like that, still clutching the towel and

dreading the feel of that hot water. "Black velvet towels belong to Cal, not ya,

rememba that. When my pink ones fade almost white, I'll turn em ova t'ya. Right now ya kin use some ole ones I brought home from my salon."

I nodded, my eyes riveted on the steam coming from the tubful of water.

“Now I've got everything ready.” She flashed me a smile of assurance. “Now, slide yer feet along on t'plastic apron, an make it move with ya, so when yer near nough ya kin step inta t'tub.”

“The water's too hot.” “Of course it's hot.” “It will burn me.” "How t'hell ya think ya kin come out clean

without scaldin t'filth from yer skin? How? Huh? Now, get in!“ ”It's too hot."

“It . . . is. . . not . . . too . . . hot.”

“Yes, it is. It's steaming hot. I'm not used to hot water, only barely warm.”

“I knows that . . . that's why I gotta scrub ya off with hot, real hot.”

Kitty closed in.

The dense fog of steam almost hid the long- handled pink brush in-​her right hand. She smacked the palm of her left hand with that brush. The threat was unmistakable.

“Nother thin. When I tell ya t'do somethin anythin, ya'll do it without question. We have paid out good money to buy ya, an now yer our property t'do with as we will. I took ya in cause once I was idiot nough t'love yer pa so much I let him break ray heart. Made me pregnant, he did, made me think he loved me, and he didn't. Tole him I'd kill myself iffen he didn't marry up with me . . . an he laughed an said, 'Go ahead,' then walked out. Took off fer Atlanta, where he met up with yer ma an married her . . . HER! An me, I'm stuck with a baby, so I gave myself an abortion, an now I kin't have a baby. But I got HER baby . . . even iffen ya aren't a baby now, yer still his. But don't ya go thinkin cause I was sweet on yer pa once, I'm gonna let ya run my life. There are laws in this state that would put ya away if they found out yer so bad yer own pa had to sell ya.”

“But . . but . . . I'm not bad. Pa didn't have to sell me.”

t'tub!"

"Don't stand there an argue with me! GET in

I neared the tub gingerly, obeying Kitty by slipping my bare feet in such a way the plastic apron slid with me. I was doing everything I could to give that water time to cool off. First I closed my eyes and balanced on one leg as I tentatively extended my foot over heat-​shimmering water. It was like dangling my foot over hell. Uttering a small cry, I jerked back my foot and turned to Kitty, pleading with my eyes, even as she snatched the pink towel away and hurled it toward the dirty-​clothes hamper.

“Mother, it really is too hot.”

“It is not too hot. I always bathe in hot water, an if I kin stand it, so kin ya.”

“Kitty . .” “Mothersay it.” "Mother, why does the water have to be so

hot?"

Perhaps Kitty liked the submissive tone in my voice, for she changed almost as if a magician had pushed a switch.

“Oh, honey,” she crooned, “it's truly fer yer own good, really it is. T'hot will kill all t'germs. I wouldn't make ya do anythin that would hurt ya.” Her seawater eyes turned soft, her tone as well; she appeared kind, motherly, persuading me I'd been

mistaken. Kitty was a good woman needing a daughter to love. And I so wanted a mother to love me.

“See,” Kitty said, testing the water by putting in her hand and arm up to her elbow, “it's not as hot as ya think. Now, step in like a good girl, an sit down, an let Mother scrub yer skin cleaner than it's eva been in yer whole life.”

“Are you sure your bathwater is this hot?”

“Not lyin, honey baby. I do take baths in hot water like that all t'time.” Kitty shoved me closer. “Once yer in an t'shock is ova, it feels good, real good; makes ya relax an feel sleepy. See, I'll pour in some pretty pink bubble bath. Ya'll like that. Ya'll come out smellin like a rose, looking like one, too.”

Kitty had to let out some water in order to put in the bubble bath so she could again let the hot water gush in and make the pink crystals foamand this, unfortunately, took away water that might have cooled down a bit from all I'd done to hesitate.

There it was before me, one of the dreams I'd prayed someday to enjoy, a perfumy bubble bath in a pink tub with mirrors all around . . . and I wasn't going to enjoy it.

I just knew it was going to burn.

“It'll be all right, sweetheart, really it will be. Would I ask ya t'do somethin that would hurt ya? Would I? I was a girl like ya once, an I neva had t'chance t'enjoy what-​all I'm gonna do fer ya. One day in t'future ya'll go down on yer knees an give thanks ta t'Lord fer savin ya from t'depths of hell. Think of t'hot water as holy water. That's how I do it. Think of cold thins like ice, tons of crushed ice, sittin in ice an sippin cola drinks, think of that. It won't hurt. Neva hurt me, an I've got baby-​soft skin.”

Kitty moved suddenly. She caught me off balance, and in a flash, instead of hovering above the water to test it again, I was facedown in the water!

The scalding water seared me like liquid hot coals from Ole Smokey. I shoved upward blindly, pulled up my knees, balancing on my hands, trying blindly to fight my way out of the tub; but Kitty held me down, grasped my shoulders with strong hands, and twisted me over so I was sitting in the water. Now I could scream!

Time and time again I let go, howling, flailing my arms as Our Jane would, as Fanny would, yelling, “Let me go, let me go!”

Wham! Kitty's hand slapped me!

“SHUT UP! Damn ya! Shut up! Don't ya be yellin when my Cal comes in, an make him think I'm bein mean. I ain't, I ain't! I'm doin what I have t'do, that's all.”

Where was Cal . . . why didn't he come back and save me?

It was terrible, so terrible I couldn't find another scream, not when I was gasping, choking, crying, struggling to push Kitty away, to stop that brutal brush from taking off all my red, seared skin. I was stinging all overand inside as well. The Lysol water was seeping into my most private parts. My eyes pleaded with Kitty to have mercy, but Kitty grimly set about scrubbing off the germs, the contamination, the Casteel filth.

It seemed I could hear Reverend Wayland Wise preaching, chanting me into paradise as I lingered on the verge of unconsciousness. Shock had taken over. My mouth was open, my eyes as well, and Kitty's face above me was a pale mean moon, bent on destruction.

On and on the bath lasted, until at last the water began to cool, and Kitty poured dark-​looking shampoo from an orange bottle onto my hair. If my scalp hadn't already been burned, perhaps it wouldn't have stung so much, but it hurt, really hurt! I found

strength to struggle and nearly pulled Kitty into the tub.

“STOP IT!” yelled Kitty, slapping me hard. “Yer actin like a damned fool! It's not that hot!” And there she went and put in her arms, thrusting her face close to mine. “See, it's not hot. I'm not screamin.”