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Time passed…
When I was nine, on one of Eejit-Da’s regular deliveries, the bedroom door unlocked and a surprise was brought in: a small black refrigerator.
My father was short, had a big belly, and a balding head to match. From behind his oversized glasses, beady eyes gleamed. “Hello, girls.” He smiled as if genuinely happy to see us. “I have to leave town for a few days, so I thought we could store food in here for you.” On a small, squeaky dolly, he wheeled the refrigerator to the wall opposite the bed.
I was disappointed that his ‘gift’ mindlessly blocked the drawings of ice-cream cones and a swing set, but the medium-sized cardboard box on top of the little refrigerator had my interest piqued. I jumped to my feet. “Music? Books?”
He smiled, exposing yellowing teeth. “Yes, Elleora. And a game.”
Pleased, I was speechless.
Mammy was speechless, too. But, she wasn’t focused on the box. Her sight was glued to Eejit-Da as he observed me, from my toes all the way to the top of my head. He ran a hand down his mouth, then cooed, “Ellora, you are becoming as pretty as your mama.”
So naïve to the immorality of his meaning, my heart soared at those words. I was about to say thank you, but Mammy was suddenly in front of me, blocking his view, saying, “We don’t need new games, Eejit.”
I thought Da was like me, believing Eejit was an endearing nickname.
Clueless as to why she was denying me such a rare pleasure, I gawked at her back. My other boardgame had practically disintegrated into dust from overuse. I whispered, “Please?”
A hand reached back and lightly tapped my hip in warning. Mammy always did this when she needed my full attention. And it was always followed by a soft rub, like a silent apology for the mild aggression.
Her not being able to see my response didn’t stop my nod. I followed her lead, as always.
For reasons never explained, I was raised to stay quiet. That made body language key to read. And right now, hers was tense. Even though I had no idea why, I had been with this woman every hour of every day since so young. That caused an incredible bond. One beyond a healthy and normal mother-daughter relationship. It was primal. Like breathing. We knew each other’s mannerisms so well that, if she inhaled, I inhaled.
Her voice shook as she warned Eejit-Da, “Don’t forget our promise. She’s not fair play. Now crack on.”—Get going.
With a tight jaw, my father left the room, sure to lock the door.
More time passed…
By the age of ten, more gifts arrived, but they were no longer for me. Keeping me tucked behind her, Mammy asked Eejit-Da to take the nice clothes and jewelry away.
Frustrated, he would whisper words to her, like, “I promise to be gentle with her…”
This always made my mother’s entire body tremble. Her back expanded and deflated through every pant, as she replied, “No. I’ve never tried to leg it.”—run away—“Now you keep your word, you manky”—dirty—“man, and stay away from her.”
I would, one day, come to learn not every bad man would walk away when denied, but that is what my father would do. There was something he knew about Mammy that he wanted to avoid if she were to ever escape.
Angrily, he’d march from the bedroom, vowing to never feed us again.
The first time his threat happened, I was concerned, but Mammy promised, “He’s lying. Just acting the maggot.”—fooling around.
I took a deep breath. We didn’t eat often enough to miss any meals that were offered.
Luckily, as always, she was right. More food was delivered. Eejit-Da may not have talked to us, showing he was still angry, but after he left our room, Mammy simply said, “Sometimes no words is best, lass.”
More time passed…
When I reached the age of eleven, two things changed. My education started catching up to Mammy’s, so we began to learn together. If we came across a word in a book that she didn’t know, we looked it up in our one dictionary.
The other thing that changed was my body. My breasts began to grow… and so did Eejit-Da’s visits. This caused Mammy even more agitation. Like before, every gift he offered was continuously refused.
Rarely calm during this time in my life, Mammy often paced the floor. Every noise made her jump. She knew of dangers I didn’t have the mental capacity to even imagine.
One late evening, when Eejit-Da’s car pulled into the driveway, Mammy rushed to the window as usual, but this time she grabbed her chest in a sigh that was tragically mixed with relief and horror. Tears were already spilling from her eyes as she scrambled for my old earphones and tape player.
No longer reading the book in my lap that couldn’t hold my attention due to what was happening in front of me, I stayed sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator, in shock.
