Zora Baker rose from her bed. She would like to say that she woke naturally; however, the screaming baby next to her would disprove that. She yawned and stretched. The crib next to her bed held her baby brother, Simon. Simon screamed and screamed, a newborn, barely six months old. His lungs are huge.
The young girl sighed. She looked at him with disdain. Another dream smashed to pieces by this little whiner. She should get up, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at him while he yelled. A blank expression shone on her face. The screaming attracted a teenager wearing an apron. She looked at the screaming child and then over at the stone-faced girl.
“Zoraphena! Hey! Dumbo! Turd face! Snap out of it!” Beth Ann shook her younger sister at her shoulder.
“What?” Zora asked.
“You zoned out again. Quiet him down before he wakes up everybody.”
“Whatever,” said Zora.
Zora got up in her pajamas. She rocked the crib slowly. Simon continued to cry. She yawned and rocked faster and faster, his little body bounced from side to side. Before long, he quieted.
“About time.”
Zora’s bureau held clothes for her and little Simon. She made her selections and placed them on her bed. First, she would need to change him. Lord knows what surprises she would find in his diaper, the crankier he became the nastier the surprise. Once, she opened his diaper to find what looked to be liquid cow patties. The green-filled diaper chaffed his skin and had her worried she might get blamed and receive a spanking. She spent the entire day in a nervous bind.
Quickly, she changed Simon and prayed to god for no surprises this time. He didn’t hear her prayer. Zora stared down at the lumps of coal stranded together by creepy red goo, she cringed. Though nothing moved, if she were asked, she would swear it did. Her face turned into a mope. “My god, Simon. Why today? Why me?” This would be the first of eight diapers she would change today. Looking at the mess didn’t bode well for the rest of her day.
Zora cleaned her brother and readied herself. Next stop, breakfast in the kitchen. Simon’s little hands waved about as his sister wheeled him and his stroller into the kitchen. Instead of pulling out her chair, she wheeled him beside her chair and put a pacifier in his mouth. If only she could sit and eat. There was no time.
“Where have you been?” barked Beth Ann.
“Changing Simon,” said Zora. “You keep feeding him that crap and you will be the one changing his diapers.”
Beth Ann laughed. “Yeah, turd face.”
Teasing Zora came naturally for Beth Ann. Every older sister teases the younger. Having ten years on the child added to the pleasure. Each day Beth Ann made it her mission to torture Zora. Usually she chose a new and better demeaning name, but as of late, the big-nosed girl had been sticking with a relatively short list. Zora found her best defense was to not engage. If she did, it would get three times worse. She chose to ignore her, though her blood rose tenfold.
“I mean it,” Zora stomped her foot and tried looking menacing.
“You are such a baby. Look normal or I’ll fix your face that way permanently.” Beth Ann laughed. “What’s the big deal anyway? They all did it to me when you were a baby. I’m just returning the favor.” She gave a coy smile. “You should have seen the mess in your diapers.”
Zora blushed.
“Oh yeah,” teased Beth Ann. “Johnny and Sammy were the worse. They fed you this stuff they made behind the barn and the next morning . . . whew! You stunk up the whole house.”
Zora took offense at her laughing. “I was a baby, I wasn’t responsible. You should have been mad at them, not me.”
“Oh, shut up.” Beth Ann shoved a loaf of bread in the young girl’s chest. “Start making toast and don’t let the sausages burn while I’m in the bathroom.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Figure it out and stop bothering me, pee brain.”
Beth Ann stormed off for the bathroom. Zora looked at Simon to make sure he was all right and then set the loaf of bread on the counter. She took the toaster from beneath the island counter and sat a silver tray next to it. She opened the loaf of bread and counted out four pieces. Zora placed them in the four slots and pushed down a lever on the toaster’s side. It was now time to count.
“All right, Simon can’t eat so that leaves him out. Okay, Anna, Abigail, me, big-nose Beth Ann, momma and daddy. That’s six. Two pieces each makes twelve.”
Zora counted out eight more pieces and put the tie back on the rest of the loaf. She put it in the bread box and went to the refrigerator. She scanned intently. Whatever Beth Ann fed Simon was there. She would find it and destroy it. She finished her sweep and began another. This time she moved items about to find her elusive prize. There, in the bottom tray, she found a dark bottle of liquid with no label. That had to be it, it was well hidden. She grinned. She opened it and put some on her finger for a taste. Her face contorted into a scorn, Castor oil. That could be it. That or something similar.
Unsure and afraid, she would keep an eye on it throughout the day. With a pencil from her pocket, she drew a line at the level of the contents and placed it back where she found it. If Beth Ann used the bottle, she would know.
“What are you doing, troll?” asked Beth Ann.
Zora quickly shut the door. “Nothing.”
“Well get your little ‘nothing’ behind over her and finish the toast.”
The four pieces of toast popped up as she trudged back to the counter. Zora placed them on the tray and put four new pieces in the toaster. She watched her sister watching her. Before long, Beth Ann turned back to the stove and tended to her sausages. Zora stared at her sister’s back, wishing her eyeballs were lasers.
Simon cried.
Zora let him cry while she put in her last pieces of bread.
“Turd face,” said Beth Ann, “shut him up before he wakes Mom. I’ve got enough to deal with. Make the table when you’re done.” Beth Ann pulled out a carton of eggs and cracked them into a large bowl.
The phone rang while Zora rocked Simon. She listened to the quiet mumblings of Beth Ann. Her tone gave her away, it wasn’t good news. After placing the receiver back on the hook, Beth Ann’s anxious expression said more.
“That was Kelly, schools out; they will be here by lunchtime.”
Beth Ann went back to work. Kelly was the middle child of a set of triplets. Like her and Beth Ann, the triplets never got along with each other and ended up going to different colleges. Kelly had a car and she would pick up the others and they would be home soon. Kelly was both fast and reckless behind the wheel. That combination might get them to the house faster if it didn’t get them killed first.
Zora dreaded their arrival. They teased her nonstop. She considered calling her older brothers and having them come to the house; they loved her and would defend her against the Sirens of Hell. It paid to have older brothers. She stared at the phone contemplating the phone call. Who should she call first? Thomas loved her best, but Paul was closer. Sammy and Johnny are the eldest of her brothers and sisters, born a year apart though they acted like competitive twins. They lived the farthest away with each trying to outproduce the other by way of family. Johnny, the eldest, had four children to date and broke the news last week that Zora may be an auntie again. While Sammy it seems, on purpose, sought out the companionship of a twin sister. They married and right out the gates had a set of twins. Sammy said they plan to have a set of twins every year. And now, Emily, Sammy’s wife, is two months pregnant and showing. Clearly she will have another litter soon.
To invite them for dinner meant inviting their broods. Their dining-room table was huge. Ten chairs were around the table. That would do for breakfast and lunch, but for dinner, it would be her responsibility to get more chairs and set up a children’s table. She debated whether to call. She needed them, but extra work would fall on her narrow shoulders. Her caretaker duties were exhausting. Mother says it will make her a woman. She only felt tired day and night and grew to h
ate children. Should she make the call? She stared at the phone against the wall. Picking it up felt right. Still ….
“Turd face! Dumbo!” Beth Ann shook her.
“What?”
“Snap out of it and get the table ready. You better be done when I get back with the others.”
Zora wondered how twelve pieces of toast were now on her tray. No time to think about it, she rushed to set the dining room table.
Beth Ann and Zora worked their system for breakfast. Beth Ann was seventeen and next year would be off to Somoa to assist the poor before returning for college. Zora would take over the cooking duties. This summer she will train under Beth Ann’s tutelage on basic meal preparation. Her mother would cook for dinner and leave her with breakfast and lunch. Thank god for a family of five eaters, she thought. She could handle that small number. Already she made toast, boiled eggs, made sandwiches for lunch, and planned on a hefty amount of cereal for breakfast. She could do it, that is, if the others stayed away.
Zora ran a hand through her long dark hair, smiling at her plan. She stood next to Beth Ann and passed her a plate. Beth Ann placed eggs, sausage, and toast on the plate and passed it to her right to Abigail, the sister directly under Zora. The plate passed from Abigail to Anna, her younger sister. The next two plates went to empty places reserved for Zora and Beth Ann. Finally, John and Rebecca Baker came into the room. Zora carried a plate to her giant father while Beth Ann carried a plate to their distraught mother.
No one told Zora what it truly meant, she heard whispered words like distraught, manic depressive, postpartum syndrome and others tossed about. All she knew is that her mother was too weak to stand for long periods and it fell to her and the siblings before her to care for the younger. Sometimes to care for their mother, who never left her bedroom for long periods. Zora didn’t look forward to that or to her yard work with the livestock later today. Chasing chickens and goats was not a fun job. She watched her mother, unsure how she truly felt.
Rebecca stood next to her husband, a somber look on her face. Her husband held a strong arm around her for support while she led them in prayer. Rebecca’s hair wasn’t combed nor was her face washed. She closed her bathrobe. “Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for the food that’s been prepared for our use. Please bless it to strengthen and nourish our bodies and do us the good that we need. Bless that we’ll go about our travels in safety. Bless that John, Samuel, Rebecca Karen, Paul and Thomas will do well in their new lives and their families will grow up strong in you. Bless that Becky, Kelly, Jessie, our triplets of joy, will continue to be successful at college and will make their way back home to Eden to live in peace. Bless that we provide training for all our helpers that they may love you and abide in you. We ask for all these things in the name of Jesus. Thank God for mercy. Thank God for grace. Thank God for our good health. Thank God for our family. Amen.” She quickly sat.
Everyone said Amen and sat. While they began eating, Zora looked around the huge half-empty table. Soon it would be overflowing with family. She wondered if Karen would come, she didn’t know her oldest sister. Karen left home and never returned. They no longer count her as family, that is, none except for their mother in prayer. Zora thought of the crowds that would gather and it made her uneasy. She dreaded the afternoon and her future. She had to do something, but what?
Later that day, Zora walked down the road. A man, her father, took the strand of straw out of his mouth and watched her slow steady pace away from the big house toward him. John Baker looked up at the slow sinking sun and squinted before wiping his brow. It seemed to get hotter a lot earlier these days. He pulled off his hat and slapped it against his thigh before replacing it over his short crew cut. He hadn’t shaved in a week, the farm kept him too busy for small pleasantries. He put the straw back in his mouth, grinned, then shook his head.
The girl pulled a suitcase behind her. It wasn’t an ordinary suitcase, it was one of those carry-on types with handle. The only time the case had ever been used was when one of her sisters flew to Chicago.
Zora’s little fingers gripped the handle and she pulled with a scowl on her face. Over her shoulder she gripped a smaller pack. Shoulder-length brown hair dangled beneath her Cardinals’ cap.
She wore her best sneakers and completed her look with a tracksuit for her long journey. She was ready for whatever challenge awaited. Her mind was abuzz with different scenarios for where she would go and what she would do. She thought of her skills and how to let people know she was a hard worker. She could be on time, her proof, she hadn’t missed a day of school since Head Start. Always present and on-time, employers would like that, not to mention she could cook and clean. She tugged and walked with confidence, nodding her head at every positive scenario. She could do it.
“Zoraphena!”
She stopped. A chill came over her. She knew the voice. She turned to face him. “Daddy.”
John Baker pulled the straw from his mouth. His honey-brown eyes found hers. She quickly looked down. “What are you doing, Sweetheart?”
He sounded softer, she thought. He didn’t know. How could he not? She had a suitcase and was walking away from the house. “I’m leaving you, Daddy.”
“Is that right?” John stood in the doorway of the barn, leaning on a rake. “Come here and tell me all about it.”
Zora tugged her suitcase from the road to him while he watched her. She didn’t want to look at him, he frightened her. She had a plan and would stick to it. He was reasonable, much more so than mother. Daddy will let you talk, not mom, she would lower the boom and say because I’m your mother and I say so. She stopped in front of him, still looking at her feet.
John reached down. The strong hand that gripped her chin alarmed her. He was a big man, stout. The cold hand lifted her face. She dared to search his eyes for a clue.
“So. You’re leaving me?”
She nodded quickly, a scowl beneath her nose.
He put his hands on his hips and looked even bigger. “Can I ask why?”
Zora didn’t expect that. The soft voice, the non-condemning face, he wasn’t mad. The dryness left her mouth and she could speak. “Well, it’s too much,” the young girl said.
“That’s it?”
“I’m moving to the big city and working for a rich family. They will give me my own room and I won’t have to take care of babies or animals ever again. I refuse to change another diaper for the rest of my life. I hate kids and I’m leaving.” She sniffled.
“All right,” said John, “tell me where you are going so we can send you your mail if you get any.”
Her eyes grew three times larger. She didn’t expect him to be calm. Where was the rage? She was so busy running through her arguments she hadn’t given thought to the simplest of questions. “What?”
She needed time to think.
“Is that all you are taking with you? That little case and pack? What about your bed and your furniture and the rest of the clothes in your closet? Why, I bet you don’t even have your new snow boots do you?”
“No.” She hung her head down in defeat. She hadn’t prepared as well as she thought.
“How about your toys and games, did you pack them?”
“No.”
“Well, it seems to me that you would be leaving a lot of things behind. We can’t have that. I guess I am going to have to go with you and help you move. That way you don’t have to come back here ever again.”
Zora thought about it. It made sense, though she had never heard of someone running away from home and their father helping them move. Was that even possible? She gave it more thought and eyed him. He might be tricking me, she thought. She looked around for her mother, thinking she was coming up behind her and they would catch her in their death grip. Thank god she wasn’t there. She cleared her throat. “Well . . . I guess that would be alright.” She looked up at him, waiting, hoping.
John Baker stared down at his young daughter. His face showed no hint o
f what he was thinking. “Columbia Missouri isn’t a bad place to live, but if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. So, Zoraphena,” he said with his strong authoritative voice, “I’d be happy to help you move. Where would you like to go?”
“Umm . . . I don’t know,” she admitted. “Anywhere but here. I hate this place!”
“Very well,” he said calmly.
She hated when he became calm, it meant she would lose her argument. She frowned.
“Pick a place.”
His grin gave him away, she thought. She wasn’t going to let him win, not this time. She had packed and everything. “Chicago,” she blurted.
“Three million people and all of them armed to the teeth. They even have metal detectors in school to keep the kids from cutting your throat while you’re reading in the library or using the bathroom.” He ran his finger across his throat to indicate slashing.
“I don’t believe that.”
“Where do you think Al Capone and organized crime came from? You open up a shop and somebody will knock on your door demanding payment just to exist. You don’t want to go there. No, not there!”
Determination fueled her. “Los Angeles.”
“Gang capital of the world.”
She puffed up with more determination. “New York.”
“Ah, that’s a good one,” he said. “If the beggars don’t beg you out of every dime, the carjackers will get you. The highest crime wave is in the northeast, little lady.”
She puffed up again. “Seattle.”
“Ah, rain capital of the world. It rains every day and night. Their saying, ‘if you don’t like the weather then wait five minutes, it’s bound to change.’”
She saw a smirk. It angered her and drove her to search for the perfect place. She clutched her suitcase handle tightly. “Dallas.”
“Redneck cowboys with no common sense. Bulls run wild in the streets. They even have a statue of them downtown.”
“San Francisco.”
He smiled and then chuckled.
“Fine, I’ll find me a place and then I’m gone!”
There, she had done it! She put her foot down. Zora was happy with herself. That is, until she looked at him and saw something menacing in his dark eyes. The inviting honey-brown color was no longer present.
“You will leave this house when you turn eighteen and not a day before, like your brothers and sisters before you.” He was tough now, playtime was over. Every word from the booming voice shook her.
“No!” Somehow she found strength. He wasn’t going to win.
He shook his head. “You’re seven years old. You want to leave, fine, you go stay with one of your brothers or sisters. Otherwise, you don’t leave this house until you turn eighteen.”
“I’m not staying with them.” Her eyes burned with fire. “They have a ton of kids and I’m not taking care of anymore kids!” she thundered.
“Then how in the world are you going to get a job with your rich family?”
“I can do other things. I can cook, I can clean—”
“According to the law,” he broke in, this time calmer. “You can only get paid for one job at your age and that is babysitting. When you turn sixteen, you can work at a fast food restaurant, but not before your sixteenth birthday. You didn’t know that did you?”
Zora sniffled and then fumed. Her little nose squished into a sneer.
“Now how many years do you have to wait to do something other than babysitting?” His voice was softer, more understanding. She liked him like this. She lowered her head and he could see her counting on her fingers. She didn’t like the results.
“I forgot my snow boots,” she said. “I might need them if I go somewhere cold. I’m going to need a bigger suitcase anyway.”
“I know, baby, I know. Come on, let me walk you back to the house and help you unpack. One day next week, you and I will sit down with that big catalog your mother loves and find out how much those big suitcases cost. What do you think? You think they cost a lot?”
“Maybe.”
John picked up her suitcase and put an arm around her shoulder. They walked back to the blue two-story house she had come from moments ago.
“I’m still leaving.”
“I know, Honey.”
“I can do it.”
“I know. But, before you ‘do it,’ let an old man give you a small piece of advice. Honey, this is your family. Family loves you no matter what. Those people out there, they will spit on you, try to kill you, steal from you, and anything else you can think of. They are not family. You have blood ties here and that blood bonds you to us. Your family can’t hurt you sweetheart, not like the world. Do what the Bible says and cling to family and home.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Zora got the most attention from her father, though it wasn’t much. She was one of many children and both parents relied on the older children to care for the younger. She was fifth from the bottom with a heavy cross to bear. She took his free hand and they walked the road to their house.
“I’m still leaving.”
Chapter Four: April