Chapter 10

The next day was Saturday, one of the two days Donna and Prudence were off. In theory Sally and Meg had two days off during the week, but in reality they took time off only if they had something else to do. Most weeks they worked the same seven days as Mavis did. Families didn't take days off. That was the way they looked at it.

Mavis got up early, as usual. Saturdays were like any other day to her. She expected her hips to ache, like they usually did, but she felt fine. In fact, as she thought about it, she felt wonderful. The memory of what had happened in the bathroom rushed back upon her and she felt heat in her chest. She'd forgotten how good that could feel. As she dressed she wondered how anyone could forget that feeling.

Meg was at the stove, and already had bacon frying.

"Morning," she said. "Sleep good?"

It was an innocent greeting ... one they had shared hundreds of times. Mavis was suddenly suspicious there was a deeper meaning to the question though.

"Fine. Just fine," she said in her usual semi-gruff voice.

"That's good," said Meg, who appeared to be thinking of something else. It was obvious that the only added meaning to her greeting had been added by Mavis herself, and she felt bad about that.

"Actually, I slept like a log," she said. "I haven't slept that good in twenty years." There. She had called attention to it herself. Now if Meg had anything to say she could just say it.

Meg's greeting had been automatic and unthinking. She had been thinking about the few seconds she had seen Bobby, hunched over Mavis, his hips driving forward hard enough to shake Mavis' whole body. Mavis' arms had been spread wide, lying limply on the floor, her legs also spread wide, but up, pointing at the corners of the ceiling. Her body had jiggled as Bobby pounded into her. Mavis' veiled reference to that broke through her concentration and she looked at Mavis, actually seeing her for the first time that morning. She looked remarkably fresh ... almost younger somehow.

Meg didn't actually want to talk about it. If things just went on the way they were she'd be happy enough. Talking about it would lead to decisions, and she was afraid about those decisions.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked.

Mavis didn't want to talk about it either, to be truthful. She had not meant for any of that to happen. The fact that it had still puzzled her. If she'd been born and raised in Louisiana she'd have believed someone had used Voodoo, or a magic potion on her or something. And Meg, young though she was, was a good woman, and a good friend. Something else she didn't want was for this to tear them all apart.

"I don't know, Meg. I don't understand any of this," she finally said. "That wasn't me in there last night."

"Well pardon me," said Meg, looking straight at her. "It sure looked like it was you."

"You saw?" something shriveled up inside of Mavis and she felt shame.

"Only a little," said Meg. She wanted to say "I never saw anything like that before!" but instead she said "It was ... interesting." She turned back to the bacon.

Well, that wasn't exactly an indictment, thought Mavis. "What I meant was that I didn't mean for that to happen. I don't even understand how it happened."

Meg sighed. "I know. It was the same with me. One minute I was just washing him, and the next thing I knew my dress was on the floor." She darted a look at Mavis to see what her reaction was to that. Mavis was staring, but she didn't look angry.

Mavis had to admire the woman for being so forthright in a tense situation. Rather than go any deeper she tried to re-enforce the bond between them.

"Well thank you again for getting me a dress. I'd have looked like a drowned rat wearing the old one out."

"What are you going to do?" asked Meg, more interested in the bacon than any bacon deserved.

Mavis didn't want to think about that either.

"I don't know." She sat at the table, suddenly tired. "I just don't know."

Meg turned full on to her boss. "Please don't make him leave Mavis. I promise I'll never touch him again, but please don't make him leave." There were tears in her eyes.

Mavis realized the depth of feeling Meg had for the boy. Then she thought briefly about the depth of feeling she had for the boy. Then she thought about the fact that, after what he'd done to her ... with her ... last night, it was simply ludicrous to think of him as a boy.

"I wasn't thinking about you," she said. "I was thinking about me. If last night was anything to gauge by, if I let him stay around here there will be pregnant women to deal with."

Meg's eyes got big. "But Sally and I haven't done that with him. We only touch him ... and he touches us, of course, but that's all. Only Prudence let him..." She trailed off as she realized she had spilled every bean she had in her bucket.

Mavis was shocked. She had just assumed that all the women had done the same thing she had done. She didn't know if having the facts changed anything or not. She remembered quite clearly when her own husband had taken her way past the line she'd set for them when they were courting. Then she concentrated on what Bobby had done with her. She couldn't think of a single thing he'd done that she hadn't asked him to do, or helped him do. Well, there was the fact that he'd undressed her. And, of course there was that first feel of his mouth on her. That had been a surprise. But then all he'd done was wash her. It had been Mavis Milleson who had pulled him out of the tub, and onto the floor, and between her legs. All he had done was give her what she so desperately needed. Mavis looked up at Meg, who was still standing and staring at her. Her carefully tended bacon was smoking now, and would be burning within a minute.

"Tend your bacon, dear. I don't think I could live without him now either."

The two of them managed to keep all the rest of the talk about normal things during breakfast. Sally was on pins and needles during breakfast, and kept darting glances at Meg and Mavis. As usual, though, she didn't say much.

After breakfast Mavis got the carvings and took them to the cabinet maker. He turned them over and over in his hands, peering closely at the first one Bobby had done, and then at the second. He compared both to the cracked one he'd sent as a pattern.

"You saw him do this?" he asked.

Mavis nodded. "Took him several hours. I know the lines on that one aren't perfectly straight, but it's nice, isn't it? And his second one was better, right?"

The man looked up. "I had to work for ten years as an apprentice before I could do work this good. Does he go to that school?"

Mavis nodded.

"He's free in the afternoons, isn't he?"

When Mavis nodded again he went on. "I can teach him. Don't need to be able to talk to learn, right? And I'll pay him too. If he does work like this he could make ten, twelve dollars a week."

Mavis' jaw dropped. "That much for just half a day?" she gasped.

The man nodded. "They's people what have money Mrs. Milleson, and they want good work. And when they get it they'll part with some of that money. I'm backed up on good carving work. I could keep that boy busy for a year if I had him full time."

Mavis took another bag of wood chunks home with her, thinking about the fact that, in the catalog, a lawnmower cost twenty dollars these days. And that was for one with a grass catcher that attached behind the reel!

Quite often Prudence came to the house on both weekend days. With her husband gone, she had little else to do. Donna spent her days off rattling around on the farm, doing who knew what.

So it wasn't odd for Prudence to show up after breakfast that day, and to pitch in. Saturdays were lazy days and the children weren't required to get dressed until lunch if they didn't feel like it.

She sashayed into the room, swinging her hips. Meg and Sally were sitting in the parlor, with some of the children who were listening to a morning radio program. The other children were scattered in the kitchen or dining room, playing with each other.

"Where's Mavis?" she asked.

"Gone to the cabinet maker's with Bobby's carving," said Meg, still thinking about her conversation with Mavis that morning. She hadn't talked to Sally about it. Things were still up in the air.

"Oh," said Prudence. "I saw Bobby sitting at the kitchen table, carving. Does he have anything else scheduled today?"

"Why would you ask that? It's Saturday. Nobody has anything scheduled on Saturday," said Sally.

"I need his help over at my house. I'm moving furniture around," said Prudence with a completely straight face.

"Oh," said Sally. "Well go ask him. I'm sure he'll do it."

Both Meg and Sally were engrossed in the radio program when Prudence and Bobby put on their coats and left. They were perfectly capable of hearing a problem with one of the children, and a wrong sound would break right through their concentration, but the normal sounds of two people leaving the house didn't register a bit.

Neither did Mavis' return.

"I'm back" said Mavis, setting down the heavy bag of wood chunks. "And I have good news. Where's Bobby?"

Meg waved a hand toward the kitchen and, as soon as her coat was off, Mavis went in. She found his carving table, the tools lying on it, and examined the horse. The upper part was done and now the horse looked like it was leaping up out of the wood. It was exquisite. But she couldn't find Bobby anywhere. She went back to the parlor.

"Meg, I can't find Bobby. Where did you say he was?"

Meg looked up and blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Pru came over and needed him to help her move some furniture."

Mavis put her hands on her hips. "And you believed that?" she demanded.

Meg frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Mavis frowned back. "You've been to her house. She has a bed that will only fit into the bedroom one way. She has a settee and chair that are both so light that one of the children could move them. Just what furniture do you think she needs help with?"

Mavis' tone of voice made Meg felt guilty for some reason. "I don't know. She just said she needed help. Why are you yelling at me?"

"Because," Mavis said patiently, "the only furniture he's helping her move is her bed."

"But I thought you said it would only fit in the bedroom one way," said Meg, confused.

"Up and down," said Mavis, clenching her teeth.

"Oh," said Meg, frowning. Her eyes went wide. "Oh!" she yipped. "But that's not fair! It's my turn!" she said. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

"Oh, we're taking turns now, are we?" asked Mavis sweetly.

"It's not what you think," said Meg. "It just seems like it would only be fair to take turns."

"In that case it's probably my turn," said Sally, who both women had forgotten all about. "I've only had one turn and since then you two and Pru have ... well ... had a turn."

"This is insane," said Mavis, sitting down. "We're talking about the boy like we own him or something. And to make it worse we shouldn't even be doing anything with him in the first place."

"Are we hussies?" asked Sally meekly.

"No" said Meg resolutely.

"Yes" said Mavis. "Of the worst kind."

"But I love him Mavis," whined Meg. "How can it be bad if I love him so much."

"You have lust for him Meg," said Mavis calmly. "That's all it is. Your biological clock is ticking and your body wants to have babies, and that makes you lustful."

"Is that what happened to you last night?" asked Meg, sticking her chin out.

"Probably," said Mavis, even though she thought of herself as being at the upper end of her child bearing years.

"He makes me feel all warm and mushy inside," said Sally, staring off into space.

"So, if you don't love him" said Meg, "then you wouldn't miss him if you sent him somewhere else, right?"

"I probably should send him away," said Mavis.

Meg stood up. "You send him away and I'm going with him!" she shouted.

"Don't send him away!" cried Sally.

"You should know better too Sally Winston!" yelled Mavis. "You're even older than Meg!"

"Well, I'm not as old as you, and all I do is touch him a little. You probably made a baby with him!" yelled Sally.

"What are we fighting about? screamed Meg, her face red.

There was a moment of silence and Mavis grunted. "We're fighting about a man." She sat back down. "Look at us ... fighting about a man like school girls."

"Can't we just share?" asked Sally. "I wouldn't mind sharing."

Mavis looked at her like she was crazy. "Women don't share men, Sally. It just isn't done."

"Well why not?" asked Sally. "He's the first man to notice me, or be nice to me, or make me feel good. I'll probably never get married. I'm not pretty like you and Meg. Why can't I have a baby of my own?"

Mavis leaned back in her chair. "When did we start talking about having babies? When did you decide you wanted to be a mother?"

Sally looked confused. "I don't know. I never thought about it until I realized he might be making babies in other women. All I know is that he makes me feel special, and I want to make him feel special too. And if I have to share him ... then fine. At least I'll have a man in my life part of the time."

Meg sat up straight. "She's got a point Mavis. Think about it. Bobby's an orphan. He can't get married until he's seventeen. But when he does turn seventeen, don't you think some woman is going to snap him up? Can't we just let things go on as they have until then?"

Mavis shook her head. "He's mute, Meg. No woman is going to want to marry him."

Meg stuck out her chin again. "Well I would."

"Me too!" chimed in Sally.

Mavis' mouth opened and closed several times. She thought about what it would be like having Bobby around as a husband, instead of as one of her charges. That wouldn't be a bad thing in any sense of the word.

"Well I'll be damned," she said.

"Mavis!" chided Sally.

"You'd do it too, wouldn't you?" said Meg. "Admit it ... you'd marry him too!"

Mavis shook her head. "I guess I would at that," she said. "Listen to me! An old woman like me, saying she'd marry a boy like that. I must be crazy."

"Did you feel like an old woman last night?" asked Meg slyly. "Or this morning either?"

Mavis didn't answer. She threw up her hands. Then she laughed. "I almost forgot the news I have." She laughed again. "And that news is that Bobby will actually be able to support a wife!"

Then she told Meg and Sally about the cabinet maker's offer of employment.

Social relationships have always been a murky subject. Society sets up various rules of behavior, some unwritten, and some codified by laws and statutes. Then the members of that social group play the game of seeing how many of those rules, statutes and laws they can stretch, bend, or even ignore. There are various reasons people do this, and discussing that would take up too much room in an already long story. Just think of it like when you're at a stop light at two in the morning, and there's no traffic in sight. You ask yourself why in the world you should obey that light. It's there to regulate traffic, but you're the only traffic around, so you feel justified in ignoring it. You look around, and weigh the risks of violating the rule. Then you make a decision on what to do. For a whole lot of reasons you may decide to blow the light, and feel completely justified in doing so.

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The Orphanage Blues

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