The Hired Girl(27)

That infamous touch shocked me into action. I remembered that I was as strong as an ox, and I shoved him with all my strength. I kicked him in the shins so hard my boot hurt. He yelped, and tried to grab hold of me again, but I kicked him again, higher up this time, the way I used to kick Luke when I was a little girl and he tried to bully me. And with that kick, I gained my freedom and preserved my virtue.

I fled. It’s a queer thing about cities. If you raced through the streets in a small town, everyone would ask why you were running. But Baltimore’s a big city, and the people I rushed by paid no heed to my flight. I had but one idea in my head — to get away from that awful, horrid, nasty man. I was sure he was right on my heels. So I ran like a deer, never looking left or right, darting across streets at random. I was convinced that if I didn’t run mighty fast, he would renew his horrid attentions.

I ran until I had a stitch in my side. When at last I stopped, I was at the edge of a park: a beautiful park, with a big fountain trickling water, and beds of flowers.

It’s now so dark that I can’t see the page.

I will write more tomorrow.



Wednesday, July the fifth, 1911

I have a candle tonight. I was a little afraid to ask for one — Malka and I have been getting on so well — but I desperately wanted to write this evening. I am so far behind with my diary! New things happen every day, and I can’t write them because I haven’t caught up yet.

So I asked for the candle, and Malka looked at me. Malka’s eyelids come down over her eyes like hoods, but she can work the muscles around them in a way that makes her look more solemn and shocked than anyone I’ve ever met. The first time she looked at me that way, I thought I should turn to stone. Since then, I’ve learned that she gives out that look all the time. I can’t say I blame her, because it’s awfully effective.

She said accusingly, “You’ve been going upstairs in the dark?”

I said, yes, I had.

“Take a candle,” she said, and she handed me a china chamberstick. “Matches are in the dresser. There’s a brass box near your bed to keep them in. Don’t burn the house down.”

I promised I wouldn’t — but here I must stop, because I haven’t yet come to Malka. I left off my story in the park of Eutaw Place, only I didn’t yet know it was Eutaw Place.

It was there that I stopped running. I’d imagined that a big city like Baltimore would be row upon row of houses, all squeezed together; I’d never pictured a park. This park was sandwiched between two broad avenues, so that on both sides of the street, the houses overlooked the garden. Even in the dark — and it wasn’t altogether dark, because of the streetlamps — I could see how fine the garden was.

I looked at the houses. They were row houses, but they looked more like palaces — tall and spacious, with balconies and porches and great bay windows to let in the light. Some of them had turrets and panes of colored glass over the doors. Wealthy people lived there, I could tell; it was no place for the likes of me. But the great houses and the tended garden made me feel a little safer. It seemed like a place where criminals wouldn’t feel at home.

I glimpsed an iron bench under a tree and sank down upon it. I knew I didn’t have time to waste: it was near nine o’clock, and the boardinghouses would be shutting up. I promised myself that after I’d rested a minute, I’d find a place to spend the night.

But I didn’t keep that promise. I knew I ought to go back to the train station. This neighborhood wasn’t the kind of place where I’d find a boardinghouse. But I was afraid that awful man might be lurking by the station. The thought of running into him again — and him thinking, maybe, that I’d come back for more — oh, I just couldn’t bear it! I felt like Thumbelina after she’d been carried off by the ugly toad.

The truth is, I didn’t have the gumption to carry on. It makes me feel bad to reflect upon that, because I want to be noble and courageous. On the other hand, it had been a long day. Even during the good parts of it — having breakfast in the dining car and seeing The Spirit of Transportation — I’d been frightened underneath. And that man had scared me right down to the bone.

So I stuck to the bench. After a while I realized that I was going to spend the night there. I felt sheltered by the big tree over my head. The night was warm, and I was in a respectable part of town. I put down my suitcase to serve as a pillow and curled up on the bench.

It was horribly uncomfortable. The bench wasn’t as long as I was, and the suitcase mashed my ear. I thought of all the comforting things inside it — Jesus and Belinda and Ma’s money and Miss Chandler’s handkerchief — and I started to cry. I was frightened because I was sleeping outdoors like a tramp, and I didn’t know a single soul in Baltimore, and I didn’t know how I was going to find a job. It seemed to me that Baltimore might be full of wicked men who would force their attentions on me, and I was no match for them. I even thought about going back home.