Faltering Page 2

  After graduation I couldn’t escape from Natchitoches fast enough. Three days after graduation, I packed up my very few possessions and took a train bound for Chicago. I achieved a lifelong goal that day, leaving my inherited baggage behind me. No longer in the rural south, my life was different, the prejudice of those around me less obvious. For the following three years I worked at Holy Cross Hospital, on the maternity ward. I was getting somewhere, becoming someone. My work was hectic, and at times tragic, but meaningful. My next goal was to bring Mamma to live with me, and I was close to convincing her.

  I never would have returned to Natchitoches if Mamma hadn’t been sick, but what would have been doesn’t really matter. Mamma became sick, and I couldn’t have her move back to her people in Isla Brevelle. Even though she’d mended fences with them over the years, they were still the same people who turned her out when she was just a girl, and because of me no less. I returned to Natchitoches to tend her so she wouldn’t go back to them.

  -CH 2-

  March, 1974-Sylvie is 23 years old

  My mamma had developed diabetes at some point, and somehow, despite my keen nurses eye, I failed to notice. Her health had grown so poor, by the time she saw a doctor, that her body was pretty severely damaged. It was almost unbearable imagining the pain she coped with, and ignored, day in and day, out as she worked, tirelessly, performing other peoples’ bidding. I realized as I looked through her file at the hospital that she would need care for quite awhile if she were going to get back on her feet. Not only that, she would never be able to work as she had done before. When I broached the question of finally moving her to Chicago to live with me, she flatly refused.

  I didn’t know what to do when faced with her refusal. I simply could not remain in Natchitoches indefinitely. I was forced to quit my job at Holy Cross Hospital, and move out of my room at the quaint little boarding house where I had been living in Chicago. I then filled in for Mamma at the Elgin home five days a week, and another home she cleaned once a week. Immediately, I started searching for a more appropriate position in nursing. I had some money saved but it was needed to pay Mamma’s hospital bills, and maybe to feed myself too, while I cared for her. I really wanted work at the hospital, on the maternity ward preferably, but that didn’t seem likely. I advised the folks I was working for to start looking for another housekeeper, because I wasn’t going to be a maid for long, and even once Mamma got back on her feet I couldn’t see her carrying the load she had previously managed.

  Mrs. Elgin was really understanding, asking after Mamma’s health and even tearing up, as if she might cry, when I told her about how Mamma would never fully recover her strength. Mrs. Babcock, the woman at another home where Mamma had worked, listened and nodded. Once I finished, I realized she seemed offended. After commenting on my uppity manner, she fired me right then, or Mamma rather, before I could quite grasp what had happened.

  It was about two weeks later that I ran into Mrs. Elgin at the hospital. Apparently she’d just come from visiting Mamma. Her eyes were red and raw from crying. Even though Mamma had worked for her for as long as I could remember, I still thought it strange she should be so upset about my mamma’s health. Turns out she had good reason for her red eyes. She nodded a greeting and started to rush past me, but then she stopped, turned on her heel, and looked me up and down from head to toe for a minute.

  “Can I do something for you, ma’am?” I offered.

  “Sylvie, I was just visiting with Hattie,” she replied. I nodded. “Your mother was telling me about how smart you are, and how you worked in the maternity ward of some fancy hospital up in Chicago.” I nodded again, growing slightly defensive to hear I’d been the subject of their conversation.

  “I’m a registered nurse, ma’am. I can’t seem to find any work here though. Seems they don’t need any more nurses right now,” I explained. I couldn’t help but allow irritation to color my tone. Mrs. Elgin noticed it, and her gaze narrowed.

  “You’re having trouble finding work then? That’s why you’re filling in for your mamma,” she said. I nodded. “You don’t have to work in a hospital you know.” I nodded again, my temper flaring hot. I went to school for three years to become a nurse, not a housekeeper. I wondered what this woman thought she could tell me about my options.

  “Yes ma’am, I’m aware of that. Which is why I’m cleaning houses right now,” I replied in a cool tone. She shook her head and I diverted my eyes to avoid showing the anger I obviously wasn’t hiding well.

  “Sylvie Honore’, you’re wasted as a housekeeper. You have schooling, and experience, and you should be using it.” I looked back up at her, surprised by her words.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Elgin.” I almost whispered it. “It’s just, well, no one’s hiring right now.”

  “Well, I am,” she said quickly. I laughed.

  “I’m already working for you.” She shook her head, the pale blue of her eyes deepening.

  “No, I mean caring for Lara Leigh, honey. She’s always been do fond of you, you know. I want you to take care of her, as a private nurse. I know it’s not what you’re used to doing, and probably you want something more challenging, but I’ll need you fulltime, and I’ll pay you well.” I swallowed hard as my heartbeat picked up. I’d been so busy trying to keep a handle of Mamma’s workload, while job-hunting, that I hadn’t looked in on Lara since my return. Anxiety took hold of me as I imagined her sick or hurt. I took a step closer to Mrs. Elgin.

  Trying to keep my tone even as I pushed aside images of sweet Lara, maimed by an accident, I asked, “Why does Lara need a nurse? What has happened to her?”

  “Oh, you don’t know, then.” I shook my head no. The older woman sighed. “I assumed Hattie must have told you. Lara lost her baby boy.” I nodded. Mamma had shared some news of Lara over the past few years. I’d known she was pregnant again, but thought little about it.

  “I’m so sorry,” I replied quietly. “If I’d known…” I stopped, not certain what I would have done with the information. Lara and I were not really friends, after all. I had simply been her maid.

  “He was stillborn,” Mrs. Elgin offered when that silence grew between us. I nodded, diverting my gaze as I pictured Lara the way I found her after her miscarriage.

  “And Lara? How’s she coping?”

  “This one threw her,” Mrs. Elgin replied. I nodded, not knowing quite what to say. Losing a baby on the maternity ward was extremely traumatic for the nurses, for the mothers it was life shattering. “At first she seemed fine, like it never happened. She was getting out, staying active, her life returning to normal. She started playing tennis, if you can imagine. Then one morning she just sort of crumbled.” Mrs. Elgin was looking away from me, at the flowers I was carrying for my mamma. “She tried to hurt herself. They say she took too many pills. Had to have her stomach pumped.” I nodded. “I keep telling myself, he loves her. That’s why he did it, why he put her in that place. Joe was only trying to help her.”

  “What place?” I couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of my voice. “What place are you talking about?” Mrs. Elgin looked up at me in surprise, her eyes strange, and her anger obvious and raw.

  “I don’t have the power to decide what happens to my daughter anymore. She’s Joe’s wife now. I would not have allowed it, but then I wasn’t consulted. I’m doing my very best not to be angry about it. Someone has to keep a clear head, to do something that, that makes sense.” I nodded, slightly mollified. Her voice softened. “That’s why I need you, Sylvie, to help get her life together. I need someone who will keep my daughter in one piece until…to keep her safe until she finds her feet again. Otherwise he might send her back there.” She looked straight at me. “It would be unbearable, relying on a stranger for something so personal.” Her gaze was penetrating. “Do you understand what I’ asking of you, Sylvie?”

  “Of course I do, ma’am. When do you want me to start?”

  “She’ll be released from Pineville the day after tomo
rrow. Maybe you could come with me to pick her up. As you might imagine she’s pretty angry with Joe right now, won’t even look at him, much less speak to the man. I’d like to avoid any discomfort on her first day out.” I nodded. “I don’t want him checking her right back in.” She laughed hollowly, as if what she said was funny. When she realized it wasn’t, she looked sort of disoriented, or lost, maybe.

  October, 1964-Sylvie is 13 years old

  I’d stayed home sick, but if I was sick at all, it was a sickness of the soul. I simply couldn’t face school that day. Mamma tried to make me go, but I refused. After all, she couldn’t force me to get on that yellow bus. She had no other way to get me to school once I missed it. So, when she was ready to leave for work, and I was still underfoot, she shook her head in resignation and waved for me to follow her. I wasn’t always so insistent on missing school, but occasionally the pressure would build in me, the continuous misery magnifying to the point I would crack a little, to let the pressure out. Missing a day or two of school usually helped me get my head straight again, or my defenses back in place, so I could endure the endless taunts. It didn’t really touch me most days, but sometimes, like that morning, the pain was acute. My mamma saved every penny she could to send me to a private parochial school. I didn’t like the idea of wasting her money, but sometimes it was simply too hard to be there. You see, I was strange, kept just outside so I could look in on their connections, on the close friendships, and myriad social mores in which I could never participate.

  That morning I was free of the pressure of trying to fit in a space ill suited to me. Instead, I was wandering through the massive old Elgin house, imagining a reality where a girl such as me could be something other than the help in that house, where I could have a party, and guests would come, where I would be the center, not strange, not an outside observer. While inhabiting that illusory daze, I wondered into Lara’s room, intent on studying her possessions, enriching my fantasy world. I didn’t anticipate her presence. When I walked in I sensed her there, before I even saw her, sitting on her bed, her back to the door.

  “I don’t want to fight about it anymore,” she said sharply. “I know it won’t change anything.” I froze, startled by her tone, and aware of my obvious intrusion. “Just know that I’ll never forgive you.” She shifted around when I didn’t respond, an expression of pain on her face, and tears on her cheeks. When she saw me standing there, this scrawny terrified girl, her expression softened. With her gaze pinned on me, she wiped her tears away like a child, clumsily, using the back of her hand before rubbing her nose slowly.

  “Sylvie. I didn’t realize…” She stood and came around her bed. “Are you skipping school?” She managed to grin at me, as if she were teasing, but the expression looked almost tragic. I nodded, my heart battering my ribs. “You look like you just saw a monster.” She laughed, her expression hardening. “That’s what my father thinks I am, you know, or a criminal, more like. It’s okay, though. Come on in. I promise not to bite.” I nodded and stepped the rest of the way into her room. “Come and sit beside me. Keep me company.” Hesitantly, I walked over to her and sat on the far edge of her bed. “You sure are getting tall. You’ll be taller than I am soon enough. How old are you now?”

  “Fourteen, next month,” I answered.

  “Fourteen. You’re nearly grown up, aren’t you?” She smiled and ran her hand over my hair, as if I were a doted on pet. “You’re going to break some hearts one day,” she whispered. I looked at her skeptically.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

  “I just mean you’re growing up, and you’re a pretty girl.” A flash of anger whipped through me as I glared at her. I thought she was making a joke at my expense. “Sylvie, you know you’re beautiful, right?” My jaw tightened and she laughed. “You really don’t, do you?” She reached out and took my hand before pulling me to my feet. I wanted to jerk my hand away from her, but she didn’t seem like she was making fun of me. She seemed sincere. Still diffident, I allowed her lead me over to her dressing table and sit me down in the little chair in front of her mirror. She stood behind me, both hands on my shoulders. “What do you see?” she asked softly. I watched her reflection skeptically, searching for any sign of cruelty in her expression. Strangely enough, she appeared sincere.

  “Nothing,” I answered defensively. She smiled.

  “Well, there’s the problem then. You’re not looking at yourself,” she observed. She pressed her lips together lightly, her brow tightening, as if concentrating on me. “You want me to tell you what I see?” I shrugged, still glaring at her. “Well, your skin is flawless. I can’t find a solitary pore on your face. And your skin tone, like honey mixed with light, almost like you have sunlight coming through you.” I tried to see my skin the way she described it, but all I could see were her delicate fingers on my shoulders. “Your skin is an asset, but your bone structure is what really makes you beautiful, though. You have such strong cheekbones, and then those lips. I’d kill for such full lips. They’d be heaven to kiss. Your forehead is high and flat, and balanced by this delicate, narrow, little nose, and a sharp strong jaw.” She had moved her fingers up to my jaw and turned my face from side to side. “And you have perfect symmetry. Do you know how rare that is?” I looked where she directed and shrugged again. No one at school thought I was pretty, but something about the tone of her voice made me almost believe her. I tried to see myself the way she described me.

  “You know, your eyes are really your most remarkable feature, such light blue eyes, like glass almost, or clear water.” I stared into my hated eyes. The color marked me as strange, not like Mamma, or any of our family. I looked at Lara questioningly, needing to explain the problem with my eyes. They might be pretty on someone like her, but not me. I wanted to make her understand.

  “My eyes are ugly, and strange. It’s why they pick on me,” I explained. Her gentle smile wavered, her eyes hardening.

  “Who? Who picks on you, Sylvie?” she asked quietly.

  “All the girls do, you know, at school. They say I have dead person eyes.” She licked her lips, obviously irritated.

  “People are always uncomfortable with what’s different from them. You can’t pay them any mind.” I nodded, thinking that was easier to say than do, and wondering what she knew about being different anyway. She was perfect, exactly what anyone would want to be. I looked away from her gaze in the mirror, not wanting to share what I was thinking.

  “I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m not pretty, Miss Lara. And it’s okay, because I’m smart, and that’s more important. Mamma says it’s better being called ugly. She wished they thought she was ugly at my age.” Lara smiled and shook her head. “She says life is easier for smart girls than it is for pretty girls.”

  “You still don’t believe me, do you?” she asked quietly. “All right, I’m just going to have to show you.” She left me sitting at her dressing table, and went over to her closet. “You’re more slender than I am, but I think this might just fit you.” She held up a flowing silk dress in a pale blue gauzy material. “Come on, honey. Get over here.” I got up from where I was sitting and went over to her closet, nervous and excited at the prospect of handling her clothes.

  She handed me the dress and then went over to her dressing table while I started changing. I pulled the itchy sweater I was wearing, part of my school uniform, over my head and then unfastened my jumper and dropped it to the floor. I let the dress fall over my head in a soft wave. It felt like feathers or clouds brushing past my face. Nothing I’d ever worn felt so delicate and soft against my skin. Once I had it on, I turned to find Lara watching me. Her eyes seemed to penetrate my flesh, to understand what I was thinking and feeling, making me more myself than I’d ever been. A knowing smile altered her features and I wrapped my arms across my chest protectively, diverting my gaze. She moved past me to her closet.

  “Let me find the shoes that match that dress,” she offered in a quiet voice. She lean
ed down in her closet and retrieved the most beautiful pale blue flats, the exact shade of the dress. She placed them at my feet. “Here, these don’t fit me anymore. Try them.” I kicked my feet free of my heavy old leather shoes and started to slip them in hers before she stopped me. “No, wait,” she interrupted with a giggle. She was up in an instant and over at her dresser, opening the top drawer. She found a pair of sheer silk stockings and brought them over to me. “Not with those ridiculous socks, Sylvie. Try these.” She held the stockings out to me. I went over to her bed to sit down and then proceeded to strip off my navy blue bobby socks and then slip on the stockings. I’d never worn hosiery before, so I was a little awkward as I started pulling the first leg up. Lara came over and gathered the other stocking, and then she gently slipped it over my foot and along my leg. She then retrieved garters and slid them up each leg to hold the stockings in place.

  “I’ve never worn these before,” I admitted nervously. She smiled.