The Wentworths Page 9

  8:03. What the hell. Angela put on her teacher face—a face that was perpetually excited, enchanted and invariably kind. Her face said, “I love these children as much as you do. Maybe more. And I’m a professional so I understand them in a way that you never will.” Her face said, “Trust me. I know what’s best.” Her face said, “I promise never to raise my voice. Can you parents make that same claim?” Hers was a face of authority and wisdom. Angela took a deep breath. She would much rather be on a yacht cruising the Mediterranean or at a spa getting mud baths or even at home in bed. Anywhere but here. Angela secured her smile and opened the red door to let the children in.

  26

  What Now, Gus?

  Gus sat in his car outside Honey’s apartment. It was early afternoon, time to go home. Time to walk into his house, his castle, kick off his shoes and order someone to bring him a drink or a sandwich or the newspaper and his glasses. Time to look interested while Judith recited the inane details of her endless day. Time to wander from room to room trying to remember what exactly it was he was looking for. And then it would be time to change for dinner. Time to drive Judith to the country club where they would spend the evening with people just like themselves. His childhood friend David had died recently and they were taking his widow Maggie for dinner. Another one of their group gone. It was almost unbearable if he thought about it, so he didn’t. Tonight August would drink the cocktails, stand with the other men, tell jokes and pretend that time wasn’t passing, everything was as it should be. Dinners like these were the mainstay of Gus’ life. They were predictable and safe and usually he looked forward to them. But this afternoon Gus just sat in his car. He didn’t want to go home. He certainly didn’t want to go back inside to Honey. God, no. He’d given Honey Belmont a thorough thrashing and frankly he was exhausted.

  Gus took his hands off the steering wheel and rested them in his lap. They were covered with brown age spots and the skin was papery thin. There was a dark purple bruise on his right knuckle and a cut on his left thumb that didn’t want to heal. How had he gotten these injuries? Gus had no idea. His body was becoming more and more fragile and if he stopped to think about it, it scared him. August Wentworth sat in the front seat of his car and couldn’t think of where to go. He sat there with his hands in his lap and picked at the age spots and the bruise.

  27

  More Introductions: The Belmonts

  HONEY BELMONT was not her real name. Originally she was Mary Beth Lafont from Salt Lake City, the daughter of Benjamin and Ruth Lafont, good Mormons who harbored certain curiosities about the purer practices of the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints. When Benjamin died of untreated diabetes, Ruth quickly remarried and became the fourth wife of a well-respected polygamist named Eliot Lawrence, and little six-year-old Mary Beth Lafont became Mary Beth Lawrence. They moved to the polygamist enclave in Colorado City, Arizona and joined Eliot’s other three wives and fifteen children. Mary Beth was taught that the woman’s job is to serve God first and men second. Her mother modeled this for her by obeying Eliot Lawrence’s every wish, and so when Mary Beth’s stepbrothers started spying on her in the shower, poking her with sticks and pulling down her underpants, Mary Beth didn’t object. She let them do what they wanted because she was a good girl, a pious girl and she didn’t want to cause any trouble.

  At thirteen, just two months after her period began and she had officially become a woman, Mary Beth was summoned for a meeting with the town Elder, Uncle Roy. He was seventy-eight years old, had thirty-nine wives and eighty-two children. God had spoken directly to Uncle Roy the night before and He said that Mary Beth was to become Uncle Roy’s fortieth wife. She would bear him many children. Mary Beth did what any good Fundamentalist Latter Day Saint would do—the only thing she could do—in an impossible situation: she threw herself off the roof of her two story house, three days before the wedding, in hopes of meeting up with the Holy Father sooner rather than later and ending this hopeless life on earth. Unfortunately, she landed on her mother’s well-tended hedge. Instead of heavenly grace she awoke to a broken wrist, collarbone and left leg. The marriage was called off but Mary Beth paid a price. Eliot Lawrence was humiliated by his wayward daughter. He and his sons took to beating Mary Beth almost on a daily basis, sometimes alone and sometimes in groups of two or three.

  Mary Beth suffered her beatings in silence. God was punishing her for her selfish ways and she deserved it. And it wasn’t always terrible. Sometimes, when just John William beat her, the eldest, most handsome and gentlest of her stepbrothers, Mary Beth almost enjoyed the pain and attention.

  On Mary Beth’s fifteenth birthday, Eliot Lawrence himself received a direct message from God: Mary Beth, his stepdaughter, was now ready to become Mary Beth his wife. The Lord said she would bear him many children and live in harmony with his other wives and children. He came to Mary Beth late one night, crawled into her bed and ran his hands up and down her body as he outlined their future together.

  The next morning Mary Beth got up before dawn, slipped out of the house and ran into town. She didn’t have a plan when she rounded the corner and saw the bakery truck parked in front of the market. The back of the truck was open and there was no one in sight. Mary Beth hid herself behind the racks of breads and pastries and rode out of Colorado City accompanied by the delicious smell of fresh-baked goods.

  JACK BELMONT

  DRIVER OF THE BAKERY TRUCK

  She sure as hell didn’t look that young, so I believed it when she said eighteen. I opened my truck and there she was all curled up behind the sourdough, looking scared in her weird old lady Mormon clothes. Didn’t take a genius to figure the whole thing out. Girls run away from that place all the time. That’s why they try to give the delivery jobs to their own kind—so the little chicas can’t get far. It’s a pretty sick town, all those young girls having babies with their daddies and their cousins and uncles. Place gives me the creeps. I was called in last minute that day, regular driver down with the flu. I’m telling you, I was the first lucky thing that ever happened in that girl’s life.

  She was pretty. Real fresh. Blond hair, clear blue eyes, kinda skinny in that way girls get just before they blossom. Her body drove me crazy. But the kid had a lot of damage. You gotta go slow. We holded up in my apartment for weeks and after a month together we were having the time of our lives.

  Of course they came looking for her, that’s how I found out she was fifteen, but no way was I sending her back. Maybe you think it was sick that I, a thirty-year-old man, had a little girl that age but, believe me, the alternative for her was much worse. We stayed inside mostly, kept the blinds drawn but you can’t keep a girl locked up forever. After a couple of months we loaded up my truck and headed out.

  We decided her name should be Honey. Hell, that’s what I called her all the time anyway. Honey Belmont. No, we never got married, that’s not my thing, but I didn’t mind her using my name. We moved around a lot. Few weeks here, couple months there. I picked up odd jobs. Honey mostly hung out waiting for me.

  It was good. And it stayed good for a couple years. Girl really knew how to take care of me. I think I loved her, or the closest I’ve ever come to love. But then she got pregnant. I don’t know. I couldn’t handle it. Changed everything. Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents. The responsibility, all that crying, day and night, it made me mean. It was like they were asking for something I just didn’t have to give and the more she and the baby needed, the more inadequate I felt. I was trapped and I said some things I should never have said. I hurt Honey with my words and I was afraid, if I stuck around, that it might get physical. So I left. She had a job waiting tables by then. I paid six months rent on the apartment and bailed. I’m not proud of what I’ve done. But hey, if it weren’t for me, she’d still be in Colorado City so really, in a lot of ways, I did her a favor. She’s much better off wherever she is.

  28

  Honey All Alone

  The big question, the one that rattled
Honey’s brain night and day, was: what if Jack came back? What if Honey was working on Gus in the living room and Jack walked through the door? How would Jack feel if he saw her bent over the kitchen table and Gus pounding away, shouting out his dirty little string of swear words? Would it bother Jack to see her bottom spanked with a fly swatter? Her nipples smeared with honey? What if Jack changed his mind and came back to reclaim his little family and then ran into fat old Gus? He’d split. He’d call her a whore—which she was—then turn around and leave for good.

  Honey wrestled the sheets off the bed. These were the Gus sheets and the Gus mattress cover. She only used them when he came over. Once he finished his business and was gone, she would pull them off the bed and wash them in the hottest water possible.

  Why Gus? He wasn’t exactly a choice she made. She didn’t wake up one morning and say, “Gee, life is pretty tough. I’m a single mom barely making rent and Kimmy needs new shoes. Hmmm. I think I’ll go pick up some rich old guy who I can have sex with in return for extra money.” She didn’t suddenly feel homesick for the perverted old men, those nasty polygamists, of her youth. She was absolutely not looking for a father figure to torment her days and nights. No. Honey Belmont had been minding her own business, taking care not to think too far into the future, when Gus showed up at the restaurant where she worked. He came and sat in her section, day after day, and asked questions. At the end of a month he’d sucked out most of her past and all of her present, rendering her hollow and more vulnerable than ever before. The next thing Honey knew, Gus was paying her rent, buying groceries and taking care of Kimmy’s preschool. And in exchange for these things, Honey let him paw her body with his old stubby-fat fingers. She lay beneath him while he drove himself deeper and deeper inside her, grunting and groaning and sweating away. His liver-lips kissed her. His bulging fisheyes memorized the area between her legs.

  STOP

  Honey took a deep breath and shook the pillow into the clean case. Gus was a wonderful, generous man. She put the pillow down and pulled the bedspread up. Gus Wentworth had arrived in her life just in the nick of time. Without him there probably would be no apartment. She was lucky to have a man like Gus. He was their ticket to a place to live, clothes, maybe even a car someday. Gus was very unhappy in his marriage. Gus’ wife was skinny and harsh and that’s why he preferred Honey’s sweetness. If she could just make him happy enough, maybe he’d leave his wife and maybe Honey and Kimmy would finally have a future.

  29

  Norman’s Thoughts on Love

  Coyotes, prairie voles, sandhill cranes, beavers, termites, black vultures, barn owls and French angel fish are several examples of animals who mate for life. These creatures commit and never look back. It doesn’t mean that they won’t occasionally copulate with additional partners, just that they will stand by each other until one of the pair is killed or dies of natural causes.

  Some males in the animal kingdom prefer to have more than one mate. These robust fellows are called polygynists and often travel with a large harem. But Mother Nature is fair and so, in many other species, you will find that it is the female who choses to have more than one mate, sometimes as many as fifty. These energetic gals are referred to as polyandrists and my hat goes off to them.

  There are a few animals that are thought to be completely monogamous: swans, otters, bats, marmosets. One species of penguin performs an elaborate ritual when pledging a lifetime commitment. The male selects a female for “marriage” out of a vast population of thousands. He presents her with a small stone, which he places at her feet. If she accepts the gift, they stand belly to belly and sing a mating song. After a two-week “getting-to-know-you” period, the male will make his amorous intentions known by laying his head across his beloved’s stomach. The two lovebirds will then head out across the ice to find a cozy spot where they can consummate their union in private.

  There are all sorts of choices for our furry and feathered friends, but it has been proven that monogamy amongst a species heightens the odds of extinction. Just so you know.

  30

  Time to Pick up Kimmy

  Honey sat on the little bench by the sandbox and busied herself with the yellow plastic shovel and bucket. She could hear the kids inside singing the cleanup song. Honey was early. Early was better than late because she didn’t have to pay a penalty but early meant she had to wait with the other Happy Helper parents and guardians. Some days she’d rather pay.

  The maids stood over in the corner by the slide. They wore nice pants and blouses or designer sweat suits. These women spoke perfect English. They drove their employers’ fancy cars, cooked fancy meals and read to the children. They had health insurance and dental plans. They carried nice purses, kept their hands well manicured and had an arrogance that made Honey want to run away and hide. They would stare at her dirty sneakers and then look away in disgust. Honey wanted to shout, “Hey, you’re just maids.” But the truth was, these women had it far more together than she did. They had climbed a steep slope and were now standing at the top of the mountain. She was still at the bottom, looking up, searching for the trailhead. Honey knew that if she applied in one of those fancy households for the lowly job of housekeeper, she would be sent away. She was simply not qualified.

  On the other side of the waiting area stood the stay-at-home moms. Honey had hoped that she would find a friend or two in this group. She envisioned long giggly lunches or hurried whispered coffees. She imagined a network of supportive women who would offer her advice and understanding. Honey longed for someone to confide in. But Honey was out of luck. These women would smile when she said hello, but then they turned their backs and resumed their conversations and Honey was invariably left standing all alone.

  The red door opened and the children came spilling out, happy faces and cute little outfits. Kimmy was at the back of the group with Miss Angela. She had a cold. Honey had given her double the recommended dosage of Dimetapp early this morning and her sinuses seemed to dry up but now Honey saw that the medicine had worn off. Kimmy’s nose was running, thick and yellow. Honey stood up and took a deep breath. Miss Angela was holding Kimmy’s arm and coming her way. She did not look happy.

  “Kimmy curled up in the quiet corner and slept through most of the morning session.” Miss Angela didn’t bother with a greeting. She stood right in Honey’s face and delivered her message loud and clear, almost as if she wanted the others to hear. “When she woke up, she was extremely congested. Look at the mucous!”

  “I’m sorry.” Honey couldn’t think of anything else. She was sorry.

  “Kimmy told us that she didn’t want to come this morning.” Miss Angela raised her voice in case those over by the gate were having trouble hearing. “She said she told you she was sick. She said she begged.”

  It was true. Kimmy had begged not to come this morning. But Kimmy begged every morning. Kimmy hated this school. She said that the kids never played with her and that the teachers were mean. Honey would have liked to put her at another preschool but Happy Helpers was within walking distance of the apartment and until she got a car, this was the only option.

  “I’m really sorry,” Honey said. She put her arm around Kimmy’s shoulders. “I didn’t think she was that sick.”

  “We have policies.” Now Miss Angela angled her body slightly away from Honey so as to make a general announcement. “Yellow or green mucus stays home. Clear is fine. A child must be fever-free for twenty-four hours, minimum, before returning. No vomiting or diarrhea. Rashes, pinkeye, cold sores on the lips or in the mouth—these are all things that are to be taken care of in the home. They do not belong here at school.”

  “I know.” Honey pulled Kimmy close. “I’m so sorry. I’ll take her home. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t.” Miss Angela put her hand on Honey’s shoulder to stop her from leaving. “You’ve repeatedly been late at pickup. You’ve completely disregarded the school’s policy of recyclable lunch containers by sendin
g Kimmy to school with those prepackaged snacks. The snacks themselves violate the healthy-food-only policy and have caused a lot of trouble with the other children. Kimmy sneaks candy. I’ve even caught her with gum. We’ve discussed this, do you remember?”

  Honey nodded her head.

  Angela went on. “This is not the first cold that Kimmy’s brought to school. Kimmy seems to be sick a lot. Personally, I think it might have something to do with diet and the fact that she never seems to have a jacket or a sweater.”

  “She has a sweater,” Honey said. “And a jacket.”

  “Whatever.” Angela folded her arms across her chest. “My point is, I don’t think that Happy Helpers is the right place for Kimmy. I just don’t think that our school is a good fit for your family.”

  “No, it fits fine,” Honey said.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you not to come back.”

  “I won’t send her to school sick anymore, I promise,” Honey said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “But we paid.”

  “We’ll refund the difference.”

  “There aren’t any other schools around here.” Honey was afraid she might start to cry. “We have no where else to go.”

  “Nothing I can do about that.” Miss Angela turned to go back into the school.