"Ya do like it here, don't ya?"
Why did she keep asking, when I hadn't had time to do more than glance around? And the way she talked was already putting me on guard, stealing my hope that this would be a home, rather than a jail.
"Yes," I said, trying to show more enthusiasm. "Everything is beautiful."
"Yeah, ain't it?" Kitty smiled softly. "Got another bathroom on t'first level. Jus as pretty--save it fer guests. Like t'keep it spotless, shinin. That'll be yer job."
All the time Kitty was reaching for bottles and jars hidden behind mirrored doors that slid open, and soon she had quite a collection on the counter shelf that was pink marble, to match the oval bathtub. Black and pink and gold, everything in the "master bath." More rainbowed fish swimming on the black and gold walls . . .
"Now," continued Kitty, all business, "t'first thing we gotta do is scrub all that filth from yer skin. Wash that dirty, buggy hair. Kill t'lice yer bound t'have. Kill all t'nasty germs. That pa of yers has got t'have everythin, an ya've been wallowin in his filth since t'day ya were conceived. Why, t'tales they tell about Luke Casteel in Winnerrow would curl hair betta than perms. But he's payin t'price fer all that fun now . . . payin a heavy price." She seemed glad, smiling her scary secret smile.
How did she know about Pa's disease? I started to say he was well now, but I was too tired to speak.
"Oh, fergive me, honey. Yer feelins hurt? But ya gotta understand I jus don't like yer pa."
That confirmed my choice. Anyone who didn't like Pa had to have good judgment. I sighed, then smiled at Kitty.
"Grew up in Winnerrow, parents still live there," she continued; "in fact, they wouldn't live nowhere else. People get like that when theys neva go nowhere. Skerred livin, that's what I call it. Fraid if they leaves home no big city is gonna know they exist. In Atlanta, where I work, they'd be just nobody important. Don't know how t'do nothin like I do. Don't have no talents like mine. Now, we don't live in Atlanta, like we said before, but in this subdivision twenty miles away; both Cal an I work, an there we have'ta fight t'world. That's what it is, ya know, a daily battle out there, me an him against t'world. He's mine an I love him. I'd kill t'keep him." She paused, eyeing me thoughtfully with hard, narrowed eyes.
"My shop is in a big, fancy hotel that draws all t'rich folks. Kin't buy a house here in Candlewick unless ya make more than thirty thousand a year, an with both Cal and me working, we double that some years. Why, honey, yer gomia love it, just love it. Ya'll go t'schoo
l in a three-storied building where they have an indoor swimming pool, an auditorium where they show movies, an of course ya'll be much happier there than in that fil old second-rate school . . . an jus think, yer right in time t'start t'new semester."
It made me hurt to think of my old school, and to remember Miss Deale. It was there I'd learned about the rest of the world, the better world, the different world that cared about education, books, paintings, architecture, science . . . not just existing from day to day. And I hadn't even been able to say good-bye to Miss Deale. I should have been nicer, more grateful for her caring. I should have thrown away my pride. I tried to stifle a sob. Then there was Logan, who might not have spoken because his parents were there that last time at church. Or some other reason. Now not only my beloved teacher but Logan too seemed unreal, like dreams I'd never have again. Even the cabin had gone fuzzy in my mind, and I'd left only hours ago.
Grandpa would be sound asleep by this time. And here the stores were still open and people were still shopping. Like Cal, off somewhere buying me new clothes that would be too large. I sighed heavily; some things never changed.
With leaden legs, I waited for Kitty to finish filling the fancy pink tub with water.
Steamy vapor clouded all the mirrors, filled my lungs, misted the air so Kitty seemed miles and miles away, and into fantasy land Kitty and I had drifted, up in the clouds near the moon--black, foggy night full of golden fish drifting with us. I felt drunk from lack of energy, swaying on my feet, and heard, as if truly from the moon, Kitty ordering me to undress and drop everything into the trash can she'd lined with a plastic bag, and out into the garbage would go everything I had on, to be thrown in the city dump and eventually burned.
Clumsily I began to undress.
"Yer gonna have everything new. Spendin a fortune on ya, girl, so ya think of that whenever ya feel homesick fer that pigsty cabin ya called home. NOW STRIP DOWN, INSTANTLY! Ya gotta learn t'move when I speak, not jus stand there like ya don't hear or understand--understand?"
With fingers made awkward from fear and fatigue, I began to work on the buttons of my old dress. Why weren't my fingers working better, faster? Somehow I managed to unfasten two, and even as I did this, Kitty pulled from a cabinet drawer a plastic apron. "Stand on this and drop yer clothes down around yer feet. Don't let anything ya wear touch my clean carpet or my marble countertops."
Naked, I stood on the plastic apron, with Kitty eyeing me up and down. "Why, bless my soul, yer not a little girl afta all. How old are ya anyway?"
"Fourteen," I answered. My tongue felt thick, my thoughts thicker, my eyes so sleepy they had grit in them, and even as I tried to obey Kitty, I blinked, yawned, and swayed.
"When will ya be fifteen?"
"February twenty-second."
"Ya had yer first monthly bloody time yet?" "Yes, started when I was almost thirteen."
"Well, now, neva would have guessed. When I was yer age I had boobs, big ones. Made t'boys hot jus nook my way, but all of us kin't be that lucky, kin we?"
Nodding, I wished Kitty would leave me alone to take my first bath in a real porcelain tub. Apparently Kitty had no intention of getting out, or giving me a moment to use the bathroom alone.
I sighed again and moved toward the pink toilet seat, realizing that she didn't intend to leave.
"NO! Firstya have t'cover t'seat with paper." And even that body function had to wait for Kitty to spread tissues all over the seat, and then she turned her back. What good did that do when she could still hear, and there were mirrors everywhere to reflect everything even if they were cloudy from steam?
Then Kitty sprang into action. She squatted down near the tub and informed me as she tested the water temperature, "Hot water is what ya have'ta sit in. Gotta scrub ya with a brush, put sulfur an tar soap on that hair of yers t'kill all those nits ya must have."
I tried to speak and tell Kitty I bathed more often than most hill people did, and once a week I washed my hair (only this morning), but I was without energy, without will to speak and defend myself. All kinds of confused emotions were churning within me, making me more tired and weak.