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Emmy Learns
How to Survive
The
memories come back to me like light as breaks through trees. How did I learn to survive? There was the grey river. There was the light that would break at
dawn. But, always there was the sadness lapping
at the shore. It was so tough to live
near that river after he was gone. The
wind carried messages on it. Secret
messages spelt in exhaled breaths that loosened the leaves in trees. I don’t know how I learned to survive those
days.
My
sister wrote letters. They poured into
my house. In them, she described the rocky coast. The cliffs she'd walk, the smell of the
sea. I'd try and dream of this other
place. I'd tried to imagine a place
along that rocky coast where I could smell the sea, where I could see all the
way to a flat horizon. A line that clearly
divides yesterday from today. But, whenever
I'd try to board a train to leave I couldn’t do it. I remained tethered to my sadness in this
place. Money became sparse. I had no trade. So, I started to look around,
to see what I could do. I knew the sea
would keep drifting farther and farther away.
No money for train fare. No way
to leave the memories of my husband. So
I lived in that limbo for years looking for work. The first job I took was by chance. We lived near the docks since my husband was
a boatman. So, I lived by the salons
that line the river banks. These are the
type of salons sailors frequent. The
kind where whiskey bottles are set next to the fogged glasses that look as
though they haven't seen a good washing for years. One day I walked in and every head turned in
my direction. It wasn’t the type of
place a lady just walked into. You could
see the river flowing fast and grey through the windows. I walked right up to the bar, my face hot and
sat on a stool. When the bartender
walked over, his eyes scanning me up and down, I said, trying to keep my voice
steady, “I'm looking for work.”
“What
kind of work you think you gonna find here?”
He asked.
“I
don't know. I just live across the
street. I'd be happy to clean the place
if you need it.”
“We
already got a girl for that,” he said curtly.
“Well,
maybe I could serve customers?”
“No
need for that.” He said. “I got that
covered.”
“Well,
what is it you need? I need work. Tell me what I can do?”
He
just laughed and said. “Well, you'd make
a terrible whore but that's what we need.”
I just looked back at him hard. Normally, I would have been so disgusted I
would have stood up slapped him across the face and walk out . But, it had been a few days since I'd been
able to afford a good meal. Any work
would at least buy me food. But, I had
only been with one man in my life and now he was gone. I looked at him hard and said. “I'm not sure.”
“Take
it or leave it.” He said. “We need a whore, last girl left for some Oil
boom town just yesterday and the barges just rolled in from Pittsburgh. We got six or seven men who are drunk and
ready to fuck something. I'd rather keep
them drinking in my bar. You take them
back to your house and fuck them, then bring them back, then I keep the
business in my bar. You get it? So, you want the job or not?”
And
that’s how it happened. Lightning
fast. In that moment I learned how to
survive. I learned to seal off my mind
and heart like some ancient tomb. I said
yes. I took one man after another into
my bed. The same bed I shared with my
husband just a year before. I took each
man in and then took him back to the bar.
I drank whiskey and beer. I ate a
fine dinner for the first time in days.
It was three in the morning before I left the bar. When I closed the door of my apartment behind
me I slid down it's cool wooden frame to the floor before I broke into racking
sobs. Until what I'd done washed over
me. Until I ran to boil water to fill a
tub to scrub their filth off of me. Until
I sank into a pile on the floor. Until
my heart and mind poured back into my body and I was drowning.
I
only whored for a few weeks. It paid the
bills, but I knew it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t stomach it. It would have broken
me, fast. After a few weeks, I passed by
a house that had a sign in the window that said – Wash your Clothes Here! When
I walked in, an old woman greeted me.
She was bent almost in two, her hands arthritic and clawed (likely from
all of the time they’d soaked in the tubs).
“What
you want?” She’d growled.
“I
was wondering if you could tell me about your business.” I said.
“My name is Rickets. Emeline
Rickets. I lost my husband just a year
ago and I’m looking for a way to make ends meet. I’ve been having to do things I can’t live
with just to eat, so I’m coming to you to see if you might need someone to help
you. To see if you might need an
apprentice of some sort?”
She looked at me, then let out a laugh. “Why the hell would anyone in their right
mind want to become a washerwoman?” I
took her laugh as a good sign, so I smiled back.
“So,
what do you think?” I asked cheerfully.
“Come
by tomorrow, five o’clock. I could use a
break from all this terrible work. You
come ready to work, I show you what I know.
Deal?”
“
Deal! I said. And from that day on (until just a little
over a week ago) I washed whatever clothes I could take in.
So
here we are now in our new day. In our
new life. Three women who walked a tough
path. How do I survive now? It’s so different from before. Now, I am no longer just surviving. Now, I have my wagon in a rut I believe in. I don’t mind following.
I
don’t know how long I was standing in the sun, day dreaming about my dark, dark
days. But when the man came running up,
I was started.
“There’s
been another robbery!” He said. “They
took down another stage.”
“Is
anyone hurt this time?” I ask?
“Yes,
but no one’s dead.” He said,
matter-of-fact (because in the past few weeks two people have died in similar
robberies).
“Thanks
for letting me know.” I say and he trots further down the street.
“Girls,”
I holler into the house where the girls are taking a break. “Another stage got taken down.” They cluck from inside. Just two days ago they’d lost a friend. Another whore from Chase house that Diana
knew real well. “You want to go check it
out?” I ask. “I’ll stay and keep the
operation going if you’d like.”
“Yeah
Emmy. Jane and I will go down to the
depot to see if anyone we know was hurt.
While we are out you need anything from the store?”
“No, I say.
You girls get along. I’ll be fine here on my own for an hour or
two.” In a few moments they’ve grabbed
their shawls and headed out the door to
the street. I can see their small
frames getting father and farther away as I stand on the porch listening to the
heartbeat of oil rushing slowly from the earth. Lord, I hope no one those
girls care about was hurt. I whisper
under my breath. I hope we can get out of this town without forgetting how to survive.
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