The Blueprint

1

Fall 1968

Two pairs of gray windows stared at each other across the empty room.  Outlets formed flat noses with slits for breathing.  Their mouths stuck, pinched and hidden below the cold tile floor.  When I blinked the glass faces blinked, once...twice...three times.  I was proud of my trick but kept it to myself.  Rubbing my eyes, stinging from the smell of bleach, I saw red blotches swirl behind closed lids and for a moment after my eyes opened, the vanilla walls were strawberry flavored.  The vaulted ceiling reminded me of church, but this place was too scary to be a church.  When the heavy door slammed behind us, the lonely feeling of the room crept closer and goose bumps sprouted across my arms.  I was out of games to play.  Comforted by the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights, I waited quietly just like Daddy told me to.

My big sister, Dani
, stood beside me clutching my hand so hard I was sure I’d feel a snap.  She looked mad, but that was nothing new.  She always looked mad.  My daddy always said that Dani was just like our momma, “mad at the world and not afraid of anybody.” She didn’t need to be afraid; I figured I was frightened enough for both of us.  Daddy told us we could get three hot meals a day here, a nice bed with blankets, and we’d make lots of new friends.  Once he got himself a job and a place for us to stay, he’d come back for us.  I knew I’d miss Daddy real bad while he was gone, but I’d learned I could put up with anything for a couple of weeks.  And I knew Dani wouldn’t leave my side.  She was bossy and mean sometimes, but she loved me.  She’d look out for me.

We stood there like dummies
waiting for who-knows-what.  I spotted a large opening at the other end of the room, maybe a hallway or the entrance to a monster's cave.  Usually I’d go snooping around, but I promised Daddy I’d be good until he got back, and I tried hard to keep my promises.  Besides, I wasn't feeling too brave.

It was from the hallway that we heard the clicking of heels.

Dani bent over, nose to nose with me, and hissed, “Lily, don’t you dare cry.  No matter what they say or what they do, don’t give them the satisfaction of a single tear.  You hear me, not one tear.  I’m not sure what this place is about, but I’ll figure things out.”

Because she was almost fifteen years old and the only person I knew here, I decided this was one of those times I should listen.
  The footsteps grew louder as they got closer and images of Godzilla trampling Tokyo flashed in my mind. 

Through the dark entrance stepped a very tall woman who seemed to be made entirely from sharp lines and angles like a stick figure a little kid might draw.  Her steps were hard and
flat as she approached.  Her white button-down blouse, straight navy skirt, and thin brown hair looked as stiff as her walk.  She was skeleton skinny and her steps were jerky.  When she stopped in front of us, I'd swear I saw every muscle in her face move as she spoke.             

“I’m Ms. Sweaney, the director of the Springfield Children’s Home.  And you are?”

With a steady voice, my sister answered, “I'm Dani Simmons and this is my sister, Lily.”

“Yes, I’ve been expecting you.  Where is your father?”

“Our father dropped us off.”  

I added with confidence, “He’s coming back to get us in a couple of weeks.  He promised.”

Ms. Sweaney shot me a creepy smile that stretched her skin so tight I thought it might tear.  I held my breath as she stepped closer and leaned in.  “Your father was a coward not to bring you inside himself.  If he didn’t have the courage for that simple task, I’m guessing he also failed to tell you about your new life circumstances."  She straightened and crossed her arms.  "That burden, and many others where the two of you are concerned, falls to me.  He’s given legal custody of you both to the Springfield Children’s Home.  You are now wards of the state.  Lillian, he’s not coming back for you.  He’s given up his rights as your father.”

I could feel heat rising
from my stomach, but before Ms. Sweaney could see my face go hot, she spun around on her heels and marched off in the direction of her lair.  Without looking back, she barked, “You both are filthy.  I’ll have you showered and in clean clothes before we speak again.  Follow me.” 

I looked up at Dani to see what we should do next, but she wouldn’t look at me.  Still clutching my hand, she dragged me forward.

Last night we slept
in our beat up old station wagon again at a truck stop outside of town.  This was the longest we’d gone without finding some relative or friend to take us in for a little while.  Dani cared the most about where we stayed.  I thought we’d fixed up the back of the car to be pretty homey.  Daddy had stopped at a church along the road and got us lots of blankets to make one big pallet for sleeping.  Dani and I’ve never slept apart and having Daddy close by made it extra cozy.  I liked to pretend we were having a slumber party; sometimes Dani played along, but mostly she complained. 

During the winter, we nearly froze at night.  Even tucked in between Dani and Daddy under lots of covers, I imagined I'd wake up encased in a chunk of ice by morning
like some prehistoric creature.  But I didn’t fuss.  I knew Daddy was doing his best for us.  And now with the warmer weather, we'd park under the parking lot lights and leave the hatch open so Dani and I could read or play cards until we got tired.  Sometimes we'd even camp out at a park and it felt like we were on vacation.  

Daddy explained to us last night that he was dropping us off at the children’s home in the morning.  Several times, he’d left us with people we didn’t know for a short time while he looked for work, so to me
this sounded similar.  He always came back.  Dani usually drilled Daddy with lots of questions about how he knew the people, how we were related, who all lived there, how long we’d stay.  But this time, she kept quiet. 

We cleaned up at the tru
ck stop restroom where Dani made me help her wash her hair in the sink.  Her long thick hair was her pride and joy.  One time, I found a crayon called burnt orange and showed it to her.   I bragged, “Dani, look at this crayon.  Isn’t this the same color as your hair?” 

She took
the crayon, dropped it on the ground, and smashed it with her shoe.  “My hair is auburn. Got it?” 

I was trying to be nice, but now that I knew it bothered her, I used it against her.  Anytime she started making me mad, I’d tease that her hair looked like a burnt orange crayon and then run to Daddy.
  And when I was feeling a especially ornery, I’d hide her brush too.  I could have whatever I wanted in exchange for that brush. 

Dani was
real pretty like my momma.  She was tall and slender like Momma with long legs that she showed off even in the winter in short skirts that barely covered her bottom.  She wore all of her shirts a size too small too, but I didn't think that was just because we were poor. 

To keep up with her beauty routine, s
he grabbed shampoo, make-up, and lotions from stores.  And when I asked super sweet, she’d get me a candy bar.  In the bathroom mirror, she carefully put her face on with her stash of stolen stuff.  I thought she looked better without all the goop but when I said so, she always snapped, “What do you know?” 

Lots of times I’d
seen Dani use her big brown eyes and long lashes to cast spells over boys.  Just one look and guys went all stupid over her.  This trick worked great when she got caught stealing.  Men old enough to be our grandpa let her go after catching her with pockets full of junk.  I wanted her to teach me, but she said I need to fill out a little bit first. 

Dani said I had potential.  She thought if I let my
dark frizzy hair grow out, and we found the right shampoo maybe it wouldn't look so bad.  Once when she forgot to be mean, she said, “Lily, have you ever noticed how people always take a second look at you.  I think it’s your eyes they’re looking at.  Your eyes are small but they’re so green it’s like you're hiding jewels in there.  I bet with a little liner and shadow I could really make them pop.  And I bet I could hide all your freckles with foundation, too.”

But Daddy didn't like that idea.  And Dani went right back to her old nasty self when he made it clear she wasn’t allowed to, "slut up a ten year old."

After waiting a lifetime for my sister to get ready, Daddy surprised us with
breakfast at a real restaurant.  I hadn’t been to a sit-down place since before Momma left.  Even though Dani seemed more grumpy than most mornings, I didn’t let her bad mood stop me from stuffing myself at the buffet with a million perfectly round pancakes smothered in butter and syrup.  Daddy just ordered coffee, but we made a game of him sneaking bites off my plate when the waitress wasn’t looking.  He put on a big show acting like nothing unusual was happening at our table, and then super-fast he’d grab food from my plate.  A silly smile spread across his face as he pretended for the waitress and me that his mouth wasn’t full.  I laughed till my sides hurt.

I didn’t understand most of what Ms. Sweaney said about Daddy giving up his rights or being wards of the state, but I figured if it was important, Dani would fill me in later.  She was pretty smart and she understood all that grown up talk.  For now, I was concentrating on the maze of hallways Ms. Sweaney was guiding us through so I could find my way back out later.  I thought we were all alone in the home until I heard a familiar sound that got louder with each step.   Quickly, I realized I was hearing the cries of children and lots of them.  One little kid wailing is bad enough, but this noise made me wonder where I was being pinched hardest, my head or my heart.  I think Dani recognized the sound at the same time I did, because I noticed her grip on me tighten.

Ms. Sweaney stopped us in front of a door that read
GIRLS
, told us to wait, and disappeared. 

The minute we were alone I whispered, “Dani, do you hear all those kids crying?”

“Lily, don’t get all worked up.  We’ve had to stay in much worse places than this.”

“I know--I know, but I’m scared.  This place gives me the willies.  You don’t think they’ll try and separate
us, do you?”

“Even if they do, I’ll find a way to get to you.  Let’s just see what happens.  I hear footsteps....Remember...not one tear.”

Around the corner walked Ms. Sweaney and four other women who looked armed and ready for battle.  Each woman wore a uniform, a navy shirt with
Springfield Children’s Home
printed across the chest with tan pants and tennis shoes.  They held buckets filled with soaps, bottles, and cleaning brushes, which made me wonder if I was going to take a shower or clean the shower. 

Ms. Sweaney instructed her troops, “This is Danielle and Lillian and they have just arrived.  They both need a good scrubbing and clean clothes.  After you’re done with them, bring them
to my office.” Glaring at us, she added, “I want no trouble from either of you.  If you cooperate, this shouldn’t hurt a bit.” She turned and was gone.

One of the workers
grabbed my arm and pushed me through the door toward a row of open shower stalls. Without a word, the women led me to the last stall, knelt down on either side of me, and began tearing at my clothes.  I felt embarrassed and ashamed.  It took all my strength not to shout, "Stop!  Leave me alone!"   Somehow, I knew it would only make things worse.

Dani screamed from the other end of the room.  “Get your damn hands off of me
, bitch!"

I was cheering her on in my head, imagining her fighting her way free and getting us both out of here, until I heard a slap and then a thump, the sound a body makes when it hits a concrete floor
.  The icy spray of water on my back hardly registered in my mind, but my skin prickled, my teeth chattered, and I had an accident. My two lady soldiers laughed when they saw the yellow stream run down my leg.  Trying not to cry, I clenched my muscles, stared at my feet, and prayed this would be over soon and that my sister was okay.  The feel of a wooden bristle brush clawing at my skin jerked me from my trance.  While one of the women rubbed me down with a bar of soap, the other woman followed along using the brush, the same kind of brush Daddy had used as a janitor. When they scrubbed between my legs, my body started shaking and I heard another giggle. 

They let me dry myself off and handed me clothes.  The shirt and jeans were too big and smelled musty like the ones Daddy had brought us from church, bu
t I didn’t care; I was glad not to be naked anymore. With a comb, they divided my hair into sections and picked through it.  It reminded me of chimps grooming each other at the zoo.  I hoped they'd find a bug and eat it like the animals they were, but no such luck.  After passing the lice inspection, they returned my old sneakers, and I was led upstairs to Ms. Sweaney’s office.

Greeting me with the first smile of the day was Mrs. Jones, the secretary.  “Come on in.  You must be Lillian.” 

From behind the desk stepped the real life version of Tweety Bird's owner, Granny.  Mrs. Jones wore a pink blouse under a flowery sweater and light blue elastic pants that cinched her waist, dividing her roundness like the sections of a snowman.  Her silver hair was worn in a tall bun and matched in color the wire frames perched in the middle of her nose. I searched the room for a bird cage.