if this won’t help.” A lock clicks.
“Keep her in for a good time this time.”
“Yes, Sister Dorothy, yes.”
“Now tend to your class before the others go on the warpath.”
“Yes, Sister Dorothy.” Her footsteps fade off.
I don’t know how long they locked me in there that closet—days I don’t know sunrise sunset sunrise? I don’t know. I soiled myself plenty. Joe and the rest of them beating their desks, some medicine. Back stings, back of my dress sticky—too much blood.
A click, the lock opens, light shoots to my eyes. “You filthy beast!” Sister Anne yanks me. I don’t resist.
“Had to make a mess in there, did you?” She pulls my hair.
“Get those clothes off!” I don’t move.
“You filthy savage, get them off!” She rips the dress off me, it tears skin off my back. I don’t move. I feel blood trickle down my legs—she pulls me by the hair.
“Get in!” She puts me in big metal basin pours cold water on me—she scrubs so hard my skin red red water red. “That will teach you to speak the devil’s language in the Lord’s house, this will teach you!”
They scrubbed me and Joe scrubbed so hard Joe cried and cut our hair short. Fell to ground in clumps—I wanted to scoop it up, I did from those mean Sisters, scoop it up and put it back on my head. Burned our clothes. Gave us new clothes white scratchy, smelled funny not soft like deer or sealskin. Scratchy. Maybe they burned our hair with the clothes. Spirit soaring to the sky.
How long Joe and I been here? One moon? Came to our house they did, came rounded up all of us—me my brother Joe, we didn’t have a lot to eat, not much those agents handed out. We poor Papa trying to grow garden—hard soil tough soil. Agent bring food. Mama died, she died of coughing sickness, my mama black not Indian, she learned from Papa and his people. Aunt Julia brought my mama to us for Papa’s medicine. Aunt Julia is black too, my papa healed my mama, but the sickness came back and took her. Papa fish, Papa hunt bring food when he can. Papa face sad since Mama died coughing disease his eyes far away like he’s in some other world.
Papa try and stop men from taking us. Joe and I were playing in yard—they came and took us.
“This one’s dark.” He holds my arms hard. “Real dark Indian.” Joe cries, trying to get away from other man’s arms. They drag us to cart, howls of children crying—Papa runs out of house.
“Where you taking my children?”
Agent says, “All Indian children got to go to school.”
“Where you taking them?” Papa jumps on one of them like a bear the other agent raises his stick and beats Papa, beat him till I can’t see Papa move—just lump on ground. Papa, please get up please please get up. Last time I seen of Papa—on the ground.
Me and Joe huddle in dark all children weeping sound of horse hooves on ground crack of whip. Time to civilize and educate Indians the agent said, Joe crying I’m holding him. We get to school the place we would unlearn our savage ways. They stripped us scrubbed us cut our hair. Any time anyone speak Passamaquoddy smack of hand or lash with switch. We learn to speak without speaking.
“Get up and go to morning prayers!” Sister Anne commands. She shakes me—I’m cold—floor cold on my feet. I walk to church, all brown heads bowed in white clothing kneeling—
“Our Father who art in heaven hallow be thy name.” I kneel by Joe—Joe frowns. “Thy Kingdom come thy will be done.” I pinch his leg, he shoots a glance, I smile.
After Mass, breakfast. I’m so hungry one bowl of something lumpy I eat it anyways—always hungry at this place. We march in one at a time Sister Anne tapping switch in her hand—my back throbs.
I am dazed in class words tumble out of Sister Anne’s mouth like gurgling brook. I can’t make sense of it. Am I here? Or my spirit somewhere else, disappeared through closet floorboards.
Joe has rabbit fear in his eyes. I can’t reach him. Chore time, scrubbing floor, sweeping, dusting, my body does it. Where am I?
Lunch time. Some watery soup, my body eats it the children scared to talk to me afraid of beatings. Back to class more gurgling brook talk. More chores. Sister Anne’s piercing voice:
“Sweep that dirt in a pile first then sweep it in the dust pan. Don’t you know how to sweep a floor?”
My body follows commands, back to dinner, some stew. Nighttime prayers, we kneel beside bed all girls, booming voice of the Father we try to mimic his words as he walks by our beds, he stops at mine. Will I die? Will I die and go to hell? Father stares at me with steel blue eyes—my spine shivers.
I am awake or asleep, someone heavy on me, it’s dark—
“You—you seductress I know what you want.” The Father whispers in my ear hand over my mouth. His face is red, hair white like snow. He lifts up blanket something hard enter me he thrusts up and down up and down pain stabbing through my body—
“This is what happens to sinners!” The Father’s thrusts become harder, faster—
Am I dead? Did I go to hell? Is this hell? Joe Joe where are you—his scared rabbit eyes was his warning. Pierce sharpness over and over—
I am dead, am I? I smell sweetgrass the kind my mother used to hang.
Something sticky wet down my legs.
“You savage seductress you made me do it.”
He leaves. I am frozen I am in the hell they speak of.
Morning prayer. Hard to walk. My spirit gone I am just body. We kneel say morning prayer.
“Our Father who art in heaven hallow be thy name—” insides ache—
“Thy Kingdom come thy will be done—”
I am just a body—
“on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread—”
My spirit
“and forgive us our trespasses—”
Where are you?
“As we forgive those who trespass against us—”
Where are you?
“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil—”
I must get you
“For thine is the Kingdom the power the glory—” back!
“forever and ever Amen.”
The Father closes the bible and leaves, Sister Anne rushes us to breakfast.
“Joe,” I whisper to him, “Joe, my spirit gone I must find it today at lesson follow me.”
Joe
