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PART I
SPEAKING IN TONGUES

33

MARINA BLUBBERED IT all out to Dot, who had hustled her into the house as soon as Marina appeared on the doorstep. Barefoot. In her shredded and bloody nightgown. Her hair a mess. Eyes red. Skin welting up and bleeding. Chest heaving from the run.

Dot sat beside her on the sofa and held her hands while she tried to make her words make sense but she couldn’t even make them understandable.

“Marina, stop,” Dot said gently, pressing a wet towel on her forehead and cheeks as she’d been doing for the last quarter hour. “Stop talking. You can tell me later.”

It took a while. Dot sopped her brow, held her hands, rubbed her back, did all the things one does to comfort someone else while they cry. Finally, Marina was down to the occasional hiccup and she began.

Dot was also shocked by Marina’s parents’ behavior. Or at least, that was what she thought until Dot interrupted, “You upchucked. At breakfast. Before you ate.”

Marina nodded hesitantly because there was something in her voice …

“Is this the first time that’s happened?”

Marina shook her head. “It’s been happening for the last two weeks. I have the flu. Then my mother told me I was getting fat and I—”

Dot put a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, dear,” she whispered weakly. “Oh, dear. Oh, oh, dear. Does Trey know?”

Marina squeaked in desperation. “What does Trey have to do with me having the flu?”

“Trey is responsible for this,” she hissed, startling Marina with her show of anger, but it shouldn’t have. Dot had never liked Trey. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Well, three weeks ago. Remember? At Kresge’s that last time? Dot! I don’t understand. My mother said I was in the family way and asked me what I’d been doing with him and I don’t know how you can be in the family way if you’re not married. You can’t get that way until you get married!”

Dot’s jaw dropped on the floor. “You— Uh … I— You don’t know—” She clapped her mouth shut, then screamed, “MOTHER!”

* * *

“Oh, Marina,” Sister Albright crooned as she helped Marina sit on the toilet and crouched in front of her, patting rubbing alcohol on her cuts. Marina didn’t move, not even when the alcohol stung. It felt good, really. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

“No,” Marina answered dully, unable to sit up straight.

Sister Albright tsk’d when she coaxed Marina’s ice-filled hand away from her eye. “Goodness,” she breathed, unable to hide her distress.

“I don’t know what I did,” Marina whispered.

“Certainly nothing to deserve this. Your mother did this?”

“Yes. I mean, I think she’s really my grandmother, but … ” But Marina was out of breath and words.

Sister Albright sighed and continued to take care of Marina in ways she had never been cared for before.

“I asked him,” Marina murmured dully after a while, feeling Sister Albright’s gentle ministrations, “not to disappear. To tell me when he was no longer interested.”

“Mmmm.” After what seemed a long time, she said, “What do you know about being in the family way?”

Marina sighed and recited, “When you get married, God puts a baby in you.”

“You still believe that?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you think you got that way?”

If Marina weren’t in so much pain, she’d scream. “I am not in the family way. I’m not married.”

“I see.” Sister Albright continued to pet and pamper her while inspecting her cuts and bruises. “She really went to town on you,” she whispered, putting more cold water on Marina’s bruises. “I think for now we’ll just get you some aspirin and put you to bed.”

Marina’s eyes were beginning to close. She couldn’t even nod, she hurt so much. At least her tummy wasn’t upset anymore.

“C’mon,” she said as she stood, carefully taking Marina’s arm and urging her to her feet. “Help you to bed. Dot’ll be home some time this evening when Bishop’s finished his rounds.”

Marina went slowly because her legs were too trembly from her run, the deep scrapes on her knees, and sitting for so long once she’d reached safety. Sister Albright supported her all the way to Dot’s bedroom, then helped her into bed. It was hot and humid and Marina now had one of Sister Albright’s nightgowns on, so she didn’t need blankets.

“Good night, Marina,” Sister Albright murmured as Marina let her head sink into the pillow and closed her eyes. It was hot. Humid. Marina wasn’t cold.

She would never be warm again.

33

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Speakeasy staff.