Page 31 of Half Blind

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HELEN INFORMED LEMONvia text about the issue with Colette and Jared. Laundry lessons progressed nicely as Helen taught Colette how to use the washer and dryer, and Helen learned that where Collette had lived with her uncle, they had a washboard and a metal tub to clean clothes. The girl was nervous throughout dinner. It was also the first night of dinner in nearly two weeks without Jared at the table.

The round robin at dinner was still in effect, as each person was given an opportunity to share their day. At the table, Lemon didn't approach the subject of Jared. The night would be cold again, and she started a fire in the fireplace.

Lemon passed out cups of hot chocolate as she called a family meeting. She began by explaining that each person in the circle had issues, and no one was running from the past but trotting towards a new and better future. Lemon also explained that in order to have a better future, the past needed to be understood, to process, cleanse and move in the right direction.

“Colette, I understand you have a past with Mr. Bane,” she said to the shocked faces of Bria and Ayanna.

The girl nodded her head.

“A head nod is not enough. I need a clear understanding of your prior interactions with him,” Lemon said. “We will not judge you for doing what was needed to survive. However, we do need honesty if we are to share a life together.”

Colette didn't want to share this part. However, she knew she needed to make all the information available to process the actions of a child in a dark moment. Her heart thudded against her breastplate in fear, but she spoke.

“My Uncle hated Black people,” she said. “He taught me to distrust anyone of color, including the Chinks and Bean Eaters.”

“We don't use those terms in this house,” Lemon corrected. “If you dislike a person, dislike them because they are an asshole, not because of race, creed, or color.”

“Sorry,” Colette said. She took a moment and for the first time, to Helen's surprise, Ayanna and Bria weren't interrupting. “I was 11 when my uncle rented me out to man for $500. We went to this old building that had a playground inside. There were chairs next to, like, this wooden stage. Men sat in the chairs watching us play.”

Helen tightly gripped the handle of her mug. The girl was describing the pedophilia warehouses they called A Field of Flowers. Colette was one of the flowers for the perverts to pluck and sniff.

“After a while, I was sent into this room to wait for the man who paid my uncle,” she said. “But there was a loud noise, a lot of smoke, shouting, running, and I hid in the corner behind a piece of furniture. I heard footsteps coming into the room. I was scared. So scared. Then I saw a man. A Black man, or I thought he was Black or a mixed Mexican.”

Colette lowered her head. “He told me he was there to help me. He held out his hand and asked me to come out. I didn't. He came closer, then bent down in front of me, telling me I was safe.”

Tears began to run down her cheeks, and she swatted away the droplets. “I spit in his face and yelled that I wasn't going anywhere with an N word like him. He was shocked. I swung at him, trying to fight him. He backed off, holding up his hands. He also had a gun, which made me even more terrified. He told me to stay hidden. Then he said to me, ‘I’m going to get someone who looks like you to help, okay?”

She wiped her nose with the arm of the new long-sleeved tee she'd gotten today. “When he came back, I wasn't there. I ran. I ran out back through a hole in the building and hid in the woods. The man came to the woods calling for me, saying Little Girl, I brought someone to help that looks like you. I knew another person was with him, but I didn't come out. I didn't come out. I was so scared. The person with him said they needed to leave, and his voice, I will never forget, said,‘Roger That,’ and then he walked away.”

Lemon said nothing. She continued to listen as the tears took over from Colette. “Had I gone with him, my life would have been so different. I never expected to see that man again, but today, when he said,‘Roger That,’ I knew it was him. I knew that voice. I remembered that voice. The man attached to that voice tried to save me, but my racist Uncle taught me hate. I hid from a better life only to be found by my uncle, who got extra to let the man keep me overnight. The things that sick man did to me. I was in the hospital for a long time. I can't have children. But...”

She began to whimper softly. “My Uncle still hired me out even when I came from the hospital. Especially when he learned, I couldn’t make babies. For four years, he hired me out, then last week he tried to sell me to one of those warehouse places to recruit more kids. The person he sold me to wanted to try out the product.”

Bria had begun to cry. Ayanna wrapped her arms around the foster sister's shoulders. The two of them had been through a great deal living on the streets, fending off the worst, hoping for the best. They had started high school living with Doc Myrtle. Today, they were in the eleventh grade and thinking about college. If anyone understood what Colette was saying, they did.

“For so long, I remember feeling stupid,” Colette said. “My Grammy, who my uncle and I lived with until she died, taught me how to pray. I prayed that day, and help came. I sent it away. I felt stupid because I knew God was punishing me for not listening. This morning when I saw the man and heard his voice, I thought...maybe, God hadn't given up on me. This was my chance to be better.”

Ayanna asked, “Girl, God don't work like that. Anyhoo, when you arrived on the porch, your nose was turned up at us. Why the change suddenly because you got some new clothes and two hot meals?”

“You all were so clean. I am not,” she said. “I didn't think people wanted to be bothered with a used-up piece of trash like me. I have lived through so much hurt and rejection, being used and tossed aside as if I were simply a toy for filthy men to piss in. I just wanted to protect myself from more hurt.”

Lemon stood. She looked at her rag tag family, then opened her arms. “Colette, the love is here and available. All you have to do is step into it.”

Colette, hesitant at first, didn't know what to make of the women. No one had openly offered her affection, not even her Grammy, who often called her dumb. Adding hurt to long-term injuries, the weird men her uncle said were her customers, seldom kissed her on the mouth, let alone offered a comforting hug. She stepped in to the hug, sighing at the comfort of the touch. No request was made of her to receive this small token of affection, which was backed up by the others in the room, who joined the circle, welcoming Colette to the group.

The joyous moment became interrupted by a beeping. Helen broke from the group first. She knew the sound. Cherry had an alarm like it at their former home in Indiana. The sound meant someone was trying to sneak up on the house.

“Bria, Ayanna, take Colette upstairs. You know the drill; teach it to her,” Lemon said, looking back for Helen.

Helen was ready. From the bag which always sat near the door, she pulled out a 9mm, seated a round in the chamber, and grabbed two knives from the bag. The 9 mm went into the rear waistband of her skirt, and the knives dropped into the side pockets of her cardigan.

“Ready!” Helen called out.

“Honestly, you look like a suburban housewife, but you're not. You're fucking scary,” Lemon said.

“So says the woman who kept and milked a pet cobra. Anything that comes through the door or window is getting dropped like a sack of shit. Who are these people?” Helen wanted to know.

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