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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 red--and 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 longhandled 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."
"Don't stand there an argue with me! GET in t'tub!"
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 awa
y 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 . ."
