Hadrian's Wall (9 page)

“
Listen, Mel...you have nowhere to
go. We happen to have an extra bedroom above our
garage.”

I looked at her, incredulous that she would make
such a generous offer to me.

“
It’s no big deal. Bill turned it into
a storage room and I have to confess, I haven’t cleaned the place
for months.”

“
Mrs. Jones, I can be comfortable
anywhere, even the doghouse, if necessary.”

She grimaced at the thought.

“
I can I clean the bedroom over the
garage and help you with your housework too.” I was doing my best
to persuade her, afraid that she’d change her mind.

“
Okay, put your bags in the back and
we’ll go shopping. I have a list of what I need and I’m sure you’ll
need something too.”

Mentally, I counted my money and
realized that I couldn’t buy anything substantial, so I shook my
head, denying that I needed anything. “I’m fine, but I’m going with
you to help carry your groceries.”

Mrs. Jones thanked me and walked toward the glass
front door. I followed her, breathing in the clean, late afternoon
air. A merciful breeze had abated the heat a little, announcing a
probable drop in temperature tonight.

Mrs. Jones’ offer was a big surprise
to me, since she’d never shown any concern for the orphans. The
ones who took care of us were the tutors. She took care of the
office, doing the paperwork, keeping things running during the
Director’s absence. Despite my relief, I couldn’t help questioning
her motives—at least inwardly. Was it a sudden surge of compassion?
Human solidarity, perhaps? Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered
was that my housing problem was temporarily solved and I would be
eternally grateful to Mrs. Jones for her gesture.

* * *

From that day, I had hopes that
things would improve—at least I was facing my difficulties with as
much confidence as possible. With some effort, I managed to clean
the room which I was allocated. Mrs. Jones wasn
’t kidding when she said that
the place had been turned into a storage room, but in the midst of
the junk, I found some items that helped to make me comfortable.
There was an old mattress, which I put on top of the carcass of a
wardrobe positioned horizontally on the floor. Now I had a bed. I
also improvised some twisted aluminum screens which I’d found in
the backyard as hangers for my clothes. By bedtime on the first
night, I was comfortably settled in my new home.

With the exception of the toilet bowl, the
bathroom was unusable. Mr. Jones volunteered to repair it, but
after several days had passed and nothing had been done, I decided
to fix it myself. I found an old hose, connected it to the faucet
outside the garage, and passed it through the window.
Voila!
Now I had a makeshift shower.
The primary fixture—the flushing toilet—still worked, so I thought
it best not to bother Mr. Jones with the problem of the shower. He
seemed reluctant enough with my presence, so w
hy give him more reasons to dislike
me?

Although I had to take cold showers and squeeze
around all of the stuff I couldn
’t get rid of, all the while knowing that there were two
comfortable guest bedrooms
inside
of the Joneses’ house, I was determined not to let such
things bother me. Whenever discouragement threatened to contaminate
my mood, I thought,
It’s better than sleeping on the streets. Think about it,
girl, the pioneers had a much harder life than yours and they
survived
.

Every morning, I helped Mrs. Jones clean her house,
starting with the bedrooms of her two teenage daughters, Christina
and Jennifer. They were not “sympathizers of domestic service” and
left everything topsy-turvy. The poor woman was always running from
one place to another trying to organize the whole mess. I helped
her so that she could have a little more time to herself. I thought
it was a good way to thank her for having helped me in my hour of
need.

Every afternoon I walked around town looking for
work. Mrs. Jones had suggested two small offices where the bosses
were acquaintances of her husband. At the first one, they
considered me too young and unqualified for any task, but they
didn’t say it openly. Mrs. Jones had categorically stated that they
were looking for a receptionist. I assume that my appearance was a
decisive factor when I heard the words of the interviewer,
“
At the moment, our
staff is complete
.”

Oh my!
If the problem was my appearance, I could improve
it. If only I could get a job, if only I had money, I could get a
haircut and buy some new clothes. If the problem was lack of
experience, well, all I can say is that everyone has to start
somewhere, but who would be willing to give me the first chance? Of
course, part of the problem was my own fault—I should have tried
harder at school instead of worrying about what others were saying
about me.

In the second office I visited, they said they’d
recently filled the vacancy, but as I was leaving I heard someone
comment, “Linda Jones thinks we’re a charity.”

Someone else mentioned, “I know that girl.”
Recognizing the voice, I froze. He was sitting near the door. “We
attended the same school. She’s completely insane. She sees strange
things... giant birds or something like that.”

Someone else joked, “Maybe she plays too
much
Dungeons & Dragons
.”

They laughed and I closed the door, feeling
completely humiliated, even more so because I really was a fan
of
Dungeons
& Dragons
.

In Berlin, I thought I’d be free of my past, but I
should have known that there was a high probability of finding
former Groveton students there. If I had known that Pete Dawson
would be in
that
office, I would never have gone
there. He would be forever etched in my memory as the one who had
awkwardly kissed me behind the gym and then told everybody at
school that I was a bad kisser. Saying that a girl doesn’t know how
to kiss was the same as killing her socially. Well, I was
definitely “dead and buried,” but being the insane girl who could
kiss well would have been a little better than being the insane
girl who kissed badly. Indeed, to me that was social murder
committed twice. At least this sad chapter of my life had served to
wake me from my first romantic dream. I should have known that the
most popular boy in my class would not be interested in someone
like me, unless it was a joke.

I left the office disappointed, but I was
determined not to give up looking for work. I knew it would be
difficult since the county was still struggling to overcome the
crisis of the Wausau Paper Mill shutting down, exacerbated by the
global crisis, but I couldn’t let it get me down. I no longer had
that right!

Meanwhile, I tried to get closer to Mrs. Jones’
daughters, but I was unsuccessful. They disliked me from the first
moment their mother announced that I would be living with them for
awhile.

The days dragged on. I started doing volunteer
work, hoping to eventually be hired. I also took odd jobs—cutting
grass for Mrs. Jones’ neighbors, taking some idle dogs for walks,
babysitting; however, the odd jobs were becoming more scarce. How
many lawns were there to be mowed? Not many...and I was competing
with younger and more agile kids than I, who wanted to save a few
bucks during the school holidays.

To make matters worse, the eldest daughter of Mrs.
Mortimer (the Joneses’ neighbor for whom I worked as a babysitter),
was Pete Dawson’s current girlfriend—another one of the twists of
fate working against me. The trouble with living in a small
community is that everyone knows each other. I saw Pete leaving the
house one Friday evening. He saw me in the backyard, playing with
his girlfriend’s little boy. Dawson gave me a smile that said, “I
know what you did last summer...” and the he left. The next day,
Mrs. Mortimer called me to pay for my services and then dismissed
me—permanently.

The dogs’ owners also decided that they didn’t
want me to take their pets for walks anymore. It was frustrating
and nerve-wracking for me to be haunted by the past and the lack of
opportunities. Without any odd jobs, I couldn’t save any money. I
spent my time walking aimlessly around town. At that point, the
only positive thing was that I already knew the layout of the whole
town and I could walk anywhere with my eyes closed.

One unusually sultry night, I was from halfway
between the house and the garage when I overheard a discussion
which was taking place in the Joneses’ kitchen. They probably
thought I’d already gone to my room, so they spoke without
reservation.

“
Come on, Mom, why do you continue to
support this girl?”

“
Melissa is a good girl, honey. She’s
polite, kind, honest, helpful...”

“
Humpf
! I don’t
know about that. I’ve noticed some things have disappeared from my
bedroom and that’s never happened before.”

“
Don’t say such a thing, baby. That’s
a very serious accusation!”

“
I’m still not sure, but when I am,
you’ll have to do something.”

“
Jenny’s right, Linda. How could you
bring this troubled girl into our home without consulting us?” Mr.
Jones asked in a disapproving voice. “It’s not just her mother’s
notoriety, I’ve heard that the girl is unstable—the kind you can’t
trust. Maybe that’s why she can’t get a job. The Reverend Merritt
was wrong in keeping a child with mental disorders among healthy
children. He should have sent her to a specialized institution
while there was still time. Now, look at her.”

“
And what would have happened to her
if I hadn’t offered a roof over her head?”

“
It’s a social problem—a
government problem, not ours
.
”

“
But...”

“
She cannot remain with us
indefinitely!” he interjected, with Jennifer’s
concurrence.

A short silence followed, before Mrs. Jones spoke.
“As far as I know, Melissa has had no crises since she was eleven.
I believe that she’s overcome her problems and she’s completely
harmless.”

“
Harmless...you willing to guarantee
that, Linda? Are you absolutely sure that you aren’t putting our
kids in danger?”

Her silence shouldn’t have hurt, but it
did.

“
It’s not going to be for a long time,
Bill.” Mrs. Jones sighed. “I’m sure Melissa will get a job. I’ll
help her find one. Maybe you can get her a job where you
work!”

“
What?
Do you think I’ll take
responsibility for this girl and put my own job at risk? If she
does something, how will I save face?
Don’t even think such a
thing!
”

I walked on tiptoe, hoping to reaching the garage
without being noticed.

“
Melissa’s taking too long to get
settled and find a job,” Jenny insisted. “Is she doing slacking
off? It seems to me that she’s not trying hard as she should
be...”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I ran, praying
that the gate didn’t creak. My heart was in my mouth when I reached
the safety of my bedroom.

An illusory sense of security was coming to an
end. What I should do? I felt cornered. What hurt most was knowing
that the girls were willing to defame me in order to get rid of me.
If a rumor about a theft spread all over town, I’d never be able to
get a job. Crazy and a thief... the daughter of a woman who fled,
leaving her daughter and her debts behind.
Great! They weren’t missing
anything
.

I needed find a way to get out of the Joneses’
home before the situation got worse, but going back to the
orphanage was not an option. People would wonder what had happened.
And, if I went back, the chances of getting a job would even
slimmer. Dailey’s Crossing was a small, closed community. A
“marked” person like me would have to have a scarlet letter
emblazoned on her forehead and live in a remote cabin like Demi
Moore...Tallulah or Scout in the movie.
Whatever!

I got no sleep that night. I tossed and turned in
search of a more comfortable position and a solution to my problem.
I saw the sun come up, yet I still hadn
’t resolved either of the two problems. I decided
to take off early for breakfast because I didn’t feel strong enough
to face the Jones girls or Mr. Jones without revealing my grief. I
was relieved that they always get up later.

As usual, Mrs. Jones was awake, preparing
breakfast. Quietly, I approached and started to help her. I don’t
know if my perception was affected by the discussion I’d overheard
last night, but I felt a new tension in the air. She was not
looking me in the eye, which didn’t bode well.

I pursed my lips. I plan to leave early today,” I
announced while putting the plates on the table. “I want to visit a
firm that is just getting started in the town. I hear they need a
whole new staff. I’ll also distribute some of my CVs around.” I
thought about how great my CV was—so varied! It’s one
paragraph—employers will think it’s hilarious.

She nodded without looking up from the coffee pot.
“Have you received any response from other places? About your CV, I
mean...”