Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20A | 20B | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25-26 | 27 | 28-29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33
PART I
SPEAKING IN TONGUES
34
MARINA AWOKE TO the sound of a crying baby and absently wondered which parishioner had had a baby and why she would be visiting. Mother didn’t like babies and didn’t allow them in the parsonage. Marina thought about the chores she needed to get done before she went to Dot’s house …
She felt her face and winced. Her cheek was tender. She hadn’t moved yet but she knew she’d be more sore than she’d ever been. She ran through the litany of words Mother had screamed at her … earlier? Yesterday? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to open her eyes.
father ugly as a rotten scarecrow
gave you freedom I never gave your mother
Not a miracle baby.
Where were Marina’s real parents?
Babies got left on doorsteps all the time. God would bless the folks who took them in. Some folks went and got babies because, Father said, God had not blessed them with one of their own, so they subverted God’s will and got one to raise.
But Father, what if God told them to go get one as a test of faith? Like Abraham?
That is an interesting way to look at it, Marina. I’ll pray on it.
The baby had stopped crying. There was a toddler and a small child running about squealing in the back yard. Because Dot wasn’t hovering and her brothers weren’t yelling, Marina supposed they were still at the veterinary or out on a call with Bishop.
I kept you hidden from men.
The rest … slut, Jezebel, tramp … Father had preached against these things. Wearing trousers was supposed to defend against becoming them. For half a second, Marina thought perhaps wearing dresses made you one, but that would mean Dot was, and Father would not allow her to run with Dot if she were.
Filthy … Marina understood that. Sort of. Mother thought many of the women who came to the parsonage were filthy, but they looked perfectly clean to Marina and they weren’t known to have dirty houses.
“Filthy” also meant people were unclean in different ways, such as in their thoughts and their souls and their behavior. She didn’t know what kinds of thoughts were filthy and she hadn’t dared ask. She knew what filthy behavior was, though—or did she? Marina had never been filthy. She wouldn’t know how to be filthy.
Father said he and other people may never know how filthy one was on the inside, like the dirty teacup, all shiny and clean on the outside but disgusting where the tea touched, but God would know.
God knew something Marina didn’t and her parents knew it too. It was as if they had been waiting for the moment Marina did whatever she had done. It was as if Father knew precisely what he was going to say and Mother knew precisely what she was going to do if they found out Marina was filthy.
Marina opened her eyes carefully. They were crusted together. Dot knew things Marina didn’t. She had long ago decided she didn’t want to know those things because knowing them made Dot a hard, cynical person and Marina didn’t want to be like that.
There was only one thing Marina knew: She had not done anything she had been taught was filthy.
The bedroom door eased open on quiet hinges. Marina noticed they were quiet because this house was noisy so why did they bother oiling the hinges?
Sister Albright peeked around the corner and Marina blinked at her. “Oh,” she said brightly as she entered, her arms full of clothes that she dumped on Marina’s feet. “You’re awake. I went over to the parsonage and cleaned out your closet, although … ” She picked up a pair of brown trousers and grimaced. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered. Good quality, mind you,” she added, looking at Marina, “but completely wrong for you. They hide your beauty.”
“I’m not beautiful,” Marina croaked.
“Not in the usual sense, no, but we’ll fix you up the way you should be, and then you’ll knock some socks off, I guarantee it.”
That was when Marina noticed Sister Albright was in her “uniform”: denim trousers, a colorful button-down blouse, and bandanna to hold her hair back. Marina supposed Dot’s overalls and work boots, worn while helping Bishop at his clinic and on his rounds, was her “uniform.”
“What happened?” Marina rasped.
Sister Albright heaved a sigh and kept sorting while she talked. “I know how you got pregnant. It happens the same way with every mammal, so that is not in question. Neither is who. I can guess when. The question is why he did it and why you aren’t talking.”
“He? Trey?”
“Yes. It takes two to make a baby.”
“I am not in the family way,” Marina insisted. “I have the flu. Trey doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
“The flu doesn’t last two weeks,” Sister Albright said testily. “You’d have been dead by now.”
Marina groaned. “I don’t understand.”
Sister Albright put down Marina’s garment with a huff. “Marina, your mother—grandmother—clearly never told you how babies are made. But you had to do something with Trey to make one. Think back. What did you do a month ago? Two? Three? Where did he take you? When did he first touch you?”
If Marina had any energy, she’d be outraged. “He … at the concert,” she mumbled, “he kissed my hand and looked at me strangely. It made me feel funny and I— I just jerked my hand out of his.”
“You don’t get pregnant from a lusty look and a kiss on the hand. Think, Marina. When was the last time you were alone together in a quiet place for a long period of time?”
“Never.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t think. I can’t remember. I have a diary, but … ”
“Well, I found it, but I didn’t read it because it’s private. I doubt you would have put anything like that in it anyway.”
“Did you get all my things?” Marina asked, confused.
“Your clothes and what I felt were very personal items.”
“How? Mother let you in?”
“I’m very persuasive when I want to be,” she purred in a tone that sent shivers down Marina’s spine. “Do you give me permission to read your diary?”
“Yes,” Marina sighed in relief.
Sister Albright abandoned the clothes and left. She was back soon enough with her baby girl and Marina’s little red diary.
“I don’t know where the key is,” Marina muttered.
“Not necessary,” Sister Albright said absently and pried it open. She settled the baby to her breast and flipped through it until she got about a third of the way in, checked the date, went back a few pages, absently said, “Your handwriting is lovely” (which she’d only said a million times), and began.
While she read, Marina tried to get her body into some semblance of movement because now she was getting sore from lying prone. It was laborious. Her fingers. Knees. Ankles. Torso. Shoulders. Neck.
I don’t need a preacher to help me speak to God.
Trey was right.
Father was wrong.
Everything Marina knew about God was now in shambles. She had asked God to help her and he had answered, sending the Jewel Tea man to the parsonage door, giving Marina enough time to scramble out from under her bed, down the stairs, out the back door, and across lots to Dot’s house.
“Thank you,” she whispered, but only because it was polite to thank someone who had given you something, if indeed he had. If, indeed, there was a god. If not, it wouldn’t hurt.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed by the time Sister Albright said, “Elmwood. What happened between the time you started eating and the time you went to church the next morning?”
“We played hide-and-go-seek.” Which Marina would rather not remember because she had been so happy and now … she was here. No Trey. No wedding.
“Yes, I know. But you don’t say anything about the game itself and you are very detailed about everything else.” That didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Well, we … ” Marina’s brow wrinkled. What had they done? She thought harder. She closed her eyes. Hard. “I remember driving home. I remember Dot being really upset at Trey, but she almost always is.”
“Did Trey kiss you?” Sister Albright asked impatiently. “On the lips? With his tongue?”
Marina gasped. “No!” she breathed, horrified. “Mother asked me that the next day. Not about the— Tongue?! I mean, he kissed me on the back of the hand and he gave me a peck on the forehead, but that is all he has ever done, except for that kiss at the concert. You don’t kiss a man until you’re engaged!”
Sister Albright stared at her for a long time, her expression almost blank. Her lips twisted slowly in thought, then she went back to reading. She stopped at a place and continued to twitch her lips. “Tell me about the dream you had the night after you went to the cemetery.”
“I … don’t remember. It was … I have lots of dreams.”
“You felt like you were flying and the wind was touching your legs and you were afraid and excited at the same time. You kept trying to pull your dress down but the wind kept blowing it all over the place. You were rubbing your mouth in peony petals and it made your tummy feel funny.”
“It was just a dream,” Marina said, confused. “I do remember I was exhausted when I woke up.”
“Mmmm hm.” More silence. More reading. “Does Correggio’s have good food?” she asked absently as she turned a page.
“Yes. Except the meatballs. They’re awful.”
“What did you have the second time you went there?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Why didn’t you write that down? After the first time, you said you’d never order the meatballs again.”
“Well, I … ” Again, she was stumped. “I wanted to try calamari.”
“I see that. After the first time, you wrote that Trey promised to order that next time. Did he?”
Marina dropped her face in her hands and thought and thought and thought until her head was pounding. “I don’t remember,” she sighed wearily.
“Hmm. And you had another dream, where you were sleeping with no clothes because the sheets were so lovely, and it made you feel funny again and guilty for sleeping nude. You woke up the next morning exhausted then too, I see.”
“I remember being tired. I thought— I don’t know. I didn’t like it. I— Mother says I walk and talk in my sleep. I’ve always done it, since I was a little girl. I never remember the dream in the morning and I’m always tired that day.”
Sister Albright glanced at her again. “That’s interesting,” she drawled.
“It’s disturbing,” Marina muttered. “May I— I need to use the restroom.”
“Certainly,” Sister Albright said airily. “Aspirin in the medicine chest.”
It took Marina a lot longer to get there than it should’ve, but she was walking like an old lady, hunched over, her bones creaking, she was so sore. When she returned and dropped on the bed with a relieved sigh, Sister Albright said, “What happened four weeks ago? You wrote Trey had a surprise planned. You had dinner at Kresge’s and he wouldn’t tell you because you’d protest, but it wasn’t anything inappropriate. Where did you go?”
“I don’t remember,” she moaned miserably.
“Why didn’t you notice you hadn’t written any of that?”
“I meant to fill it in later.”
“Mmm, I see you do that,” she muttered. “Last in, first out.”
Marina understood that. It was a bookkeeping term.
“But you never went back. You wrote down your dreams instead and now I find out you sleepwalk.”
“You make that sound like I did something wrong.”
“Not at all.” She snapped the book shut and said, “But! Now that I have a hypothesis, let’s talk about how babies are made.”
It was possibly the worst hour of Marina’s life.
34
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
odalisque
You made me google a new word.
A member of a seraglio.
That’s two
Teds our mameluke of grammar.
And an opportunity to learn about fine (and marginally NSFW) art.
Une Odalisque or La Grande Odalisque
Yeah, like that.
I am disappoint.
I am weak.
The plot thickens.
“The flu doesn’t last two weeks,” Sister Albright said testily. “You’d have been dead by now.”
Marina has Long COVID!
/ducking
She can come sing in my kitchen any time she wants
Music for Trey:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kimPUWSwxIs
🎶🎶
So Trey has been drugging her and fucking the dog snot out of her all night long. That’s one way, I guess.
I’ll step in here and say it wasn’t Trey.
Hmmm
Bill Cosby?
If it was drugs, I don’t think Trey was in on it.
I’ve been wrong before.
I thought Trey boinked her in the park (cemetery?). Do I have to go back and re-read some chapters?
He did. She just doesn’t remember.
Ah. Huh.
She sincerely doesn’t remember because drugs, or she’s just blocking it from her mind?
She was drugged. Since that is said outright next chapter, I don’t mind spilling it now.
You are correct.
Wut?
So the only way I see THAT working without Trey having to murder another person (I’m not an expert, but I’d think there’s a limit on how many murders your hero is allowed in this genre) is if the drugger is Dot.
she purred in a tone
I suspect there isn’t a person in Missouri that isn’t pleased at the prospect of the downfall of the Scarritts.
Well, there are a few people who don’t actually know the Scarritts. LOL
Now we’re making some headway. Marina is confused about reality, thinks she dreams, probably hears voices. Electro-shock would straighten her out (or not).
Convulsive therapy would do her a world of good. Too bad there’s not a pill that would help a girl in her situation.
Thanks Moj, another long week to wait but worth it.
*snicker* Don’t leapfrog ahead of me or anything. 😉
We have contractors coming in tomorrow, so my gf is cleaning the house.
….
Wimmin. Can’t live with ’em, can’t twist them into animal shapes like balloons.
*lights Creosote Achilles signal*
Lol. Where has he been?
He’s been tied up.
What have you contracted them to do?
Bathroom renovations
Getting a washlet?
Nope
Speaking of wanting to know the story behind the story…
I dunno, Moje. You said you write characters, not plot, but there’s sure a lot going on.
inorite?
Awwww, thanks! 😊
https://archive.is/6DfN3/8bdd5a187138e773d00f474b739f398f95994fe8.webp
NSFW.
https://archive.is/Lazrt/f4bbe8c25ecfb0870c2079c867acfe57d0900992.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/EBSiX/99c16411beec0302b9c0f3960d482e6a143ccb14.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/KRQm7/c9a6a80d556f4705eec6323bd92900c753c66b31.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/lYrT6/0734d58292e28cf3c1312e85ac7950ffb0ca8c51.jpg
NSFW.
Holy cow!
Mo: I made these biscuits tonight. They’re yummy.
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhh
Now you guys are making me want to make biscuits!
Doooooooo eeeeeeeeeeeeeettt!
Rubber Biscuits?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrjiJp8zr5Y&ab_channel=ClassicRockonMV
RIP Jim Brown.
https://dailycaller.com/2023/05/19/legendary-nfl-running-back-dead-87-jim-brown/
There are many stories about Jim Brown in local news.
Browns to the Super Bowl for Jim!
At the local minor league game tonight, there was actually a beer vendor roaming through the stands – I believe for the first time since before the ‘vid. (You’ve had to walk to the concession stand since then.)
Guess what brand of beer he was trying to give away? 😄
Cyanide Brew?
That probably would have sold better.
Are you familiar with the Beer Guy (local Cleveland legend)?
I am not. At
IndiansGrauniads games?And the Browns games (at times). He recently took a spill in his house, and a local brewery (who partnered with him during the shutdowns) put up a fund raiser for him.
The Beer Guy
Date night! Indian food and Samurai Jack.
Where the First bitches at?
Where’s anybody at?
I’ve been writing.
I actually started a story just so I could have a framing device to understand characters I’ve been having trouble getting started in their own works. Maybe it’ll become something.
Connecticut
It would be nice to be here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw9gLjEGJrw
Just came back from a beach walk and saw the SC.
As the world turns…nephews wedding. Happy Friday glibbies
Jefferson!
Wake up Glibs! 🌞
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=feW1kHyNSpI
🎵🎵
Get out there and have a great day!
Wake up
Relevant
https://www.fox29.com/news/former-philadelphia-homicide-detective-accused-of-sexually-assaulting-sister-of-murder-victim
Training issue.
He thought it was consensual pity sex.
https://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/entertainment/the-scene/greased-pole-south-philly-italian-market-festival/3569856/
You know who else liked greased poles?
Lawanda Page?
A Warsaw Jiffy-Lube ?
Mornin’, reprobates!
Any sandwich (or at least most) can be turned into a delicious breakfast by topping it with poached eggs and hollandaise.
Yum. “Most” is correct, not sure this would work with PB&J.
Some people like McGriddles.
*barf*
Pancakewich ?
In this case the base sandwich was a BLT, which is summer all over.
suh’ fam
whats goody yo
TALL CANS!
*after I take Tres V 2.0 to breakfast
Yo!
Tall Covfefe, off to Scranton in a bit for the youngest Patzer’s graduation. Loading up on Covfefe in the meantime. Poached eggs and hollandaise for breakfast?
Having been up all night, when I see the kid in the mornings is usually the only time I drink coffee.
Actually, ever since I quit smoking years ago it lost it appeal.
However, if there’s one thing I DO miss about a cig it’s the beautiful pairing of Marlboro light and some black coffee.