Take My Hand(7)

“You want something to eat? You don’t look none too hungry to me.”

In Alabama, comments about my size weren’t usually meant to insult. Weight was a sign of prosperity. But it made me self-conscious around people I didn’t know well.

She wiped her hands on her dress. Her armpits were stained. She opened her mouth and revealed the dark of missing teeth.

I stuck out my hand. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams. My name is Civil Townsend. I’m the new nurse assigned to India and Erica. I’m here to give their shots.”

“I suppose that mean you don’t want none of this here stew.”

“I’d love to stop by and try some another day, ma’am. It’s just that I got to get back to the clinic within a certain time. I tried to come after the girls got out of school.” I was talking quickly. This was exactly the kind of thing I’d worried about. Refusing food or drink in somebody’s home could be taken as an insult.

She didn’t say anything, just stared curiously at me.

“They make me sign a logbook,” I added.

“A log what?”

“A logbook.”

She squinted her eyes, then broke into a laugh. “You stay around here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Well, no, ma’am. I live in town.”

“And what you say your name was?”

“Civil.”

“Sybil.”

“Civil.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Civil.” She pointed a crooked finger. “Y’all clear a space for the woman to sit now.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

The two sisters sat down on top of the clothes. I perched on the bed beside them on top of a pair of men’s shorts. My throat clenched. A deep odor that went beyond a few missed baths filled my nostrils. These girls smelled like they hadn’t cleaned up in weeks. Surely there was a pump outside?

I breathed through my mouth and tried to make small talk to get them comfortable. “Did y’all go to school today?”

“No, ma’am,” responded the older sister. A broad forehead covered in acne narrowed into steep cheekbones that ended in the point of a chin. When she talked, she did not show teeth, and the words came out tight-lipped and mumbled. There was something defeated about her, and it made me want to draw her out.

“Why not?”

“We don’t go.”

“Your daddy don’t make you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Parents in Alabama who did not send their children to school could get in trouble with the law. To the best of my knowledge, the days of children dropping out of school to work on the farm had ended.

It was difficult to work without a table, but I went ahead and uncapped the first needle. The older sister slid down her sleeve and exposed a meaty bicep. “You might feel a pinch,” I said, but the girl just looked at me. The needle slid easily into her flesh. Erica held her younger sister by the waist after they switched places. India’s skin was the same soft shade of deep brown, but her face was rounder, the lines softer. The sides of her hair were pulled too tightly into rubber bands, the edges of her hairline ridged by tiny white bumps. She did not flinch when I inserted the needle.

After we finished, they wandered outside and I accepted a cup of the grandmother’s stew. I tried not to focus on the grimness of the place. The stew was good; there was no denying it.

“It’s delicious, Mrs. Williams.”

“I grew those carrots myself.” Satisfied that she had fed me, the hazel-eyed woman stepped outside the house, and I was left alone. Shame washed over me, but I did not know if it was mine or theirs.

The girls came back inside as I was opening the bag at my feet. “Y’all need some more of these?”

“What’s that?”

“Sanitary napkins.”

“What’s that?”

“These are the things you put in your panties during your cycle. Kotex. Wasn’t your nurse dropping these off every month?”

“Oh yeah. I had some of them. But after while they stopped working.”

“What do you mean stopped working?”

“Blood went through it.”

“Well, did you change it?”

Erica didn’t answer.

“Erica, you got to change the pad every few hours. You can’t just leave it all day long. If you heavy, you change it more often. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your other nurse didn’t tell you that?”

She did not respond.

“Don’t worry about it. Take these and I’ll bring you some more, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I wanted to ask her how they washed up, if there was a pump or a creek on the property. But I held my tongue. There would be time enough to figure all these things out. I gathered my things. When I was almost at my car, I turned to see Erica had followed me outside.

“Miss Townsend?”

“Call me Civil.”

“I don’t think I got enough of them napkins.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring y’all some more my next visit.”

“But see . . . truth is . . . I bleed all the time.”

“What do you mean all the time?”