Read Online Somebody's Someone by Regina Louise - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Regina Louise
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people who couldn’t even stand the sight of ’em. And I was never gonna have no boyfriend or husband anyway. That way I knowed for certain that I wasn’t gonna have to have no kids I didn’t want in the first place.
I didn’t sleep too good, ’cause my skin was on fire all night long. My body tossed and turned like the sometimes working, potbellied washing machine Big Mama had sitting out on her back porch. Odetta must’ve had it rough with me too, ’cause she’d moved into the living room. I could hear her calling hogs from the couch.
Finally, it was morning. As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I could feel my clothes pulling—they was stuck to my skin. I looked down at myself and saw where the material had soaked into my welts when I was sleepin’ and made the pajamas stick to me. I felt sorry for my skin and wondered if I was always gonna have scars from this. I started to tear up, but I made my tears fall quietly, ’cause I didn’t want to wake Odetta. My head was pounding. It felt like somebody was standing on the inside of it beating me with a hammer to let them out.
I thought back on the other times when Lula had beaten me. Usually it was when we’d get word of my mama’s whereabouts. Or, if she’d misplaced something and I couldn’t read her mind to find it—
blam!
She’d haul off and hit me, like it was my fault she lost it. Once when Lula had gone on one of her sprees and used a rosebush stem to tan my hide, Sister had to put me in a tub of Epsom salt to calm my body down ’nough so she could help me take the little thorns out my skin. I kinda wished Sister was here to help me now.
I dried my eyes with the sleeve of my pajamas and slowly slipped off the bed onto the floor. I was gonna draw myself a tub and soak my clothes off. While I let the water warm up and the tub fill, I looked under the sink to try and find Epsom salt. I caught sight of what the grown folks called “clawed feet” on the bottom of the bathtub.
Out at the Thornhills’ we had a claw-footed tub too, but the left front foot on it had clawed its way right through the linoleum tile and the po’ thing was leaning to the ground whenever anybody got in it. At the same time, you could see what was going on under the house while taking a bath. Odetta’s tub was nice and white, wit’ no dirty body rings round the inside or softened turds left over from somebody getting a enema. Out at Big Mama’s it seemed like all us kids was full of backed-up bowel movements, and the only way to unplug our asses was to get in the bathtub and have some long white thing stuck up our butt holes. I sho’ didn’t like that a’tall, but this was just as bad. I found the salt and poured it into the falling water, just like I seen Sister do.
When the bath was halfway full, I sat on one side to get my feet warm; then I put my hands on either side and lowered my body into the water. I couldn’t believe that I was in somebody’s bathtub that I didn’t really know—I’d never been this far away from home b’fore, and I certainly barely bathed when I was home—but I was sho’ glad to have a clean white tub. It didn’t take long for the material to loosen up. Once I was wet enough, I started gently working my clothes away from my skin bit by bit. I’d grit my teeth down hard-like and pull the real bad ones back fast. Each time I pulled at the material, I told myself that I hated Lula’s guts for what she’d done to me. And I hoped that one day the same thing would happen to her, or worse, her own kids—except baby Ella. Maybe then she’d see what it felt like to be me.
I managed to get myself cleaned off and changed without waking up Odetta. I didn’t want for her to have to look after me too much, in case I needed to stay for a while. I put my own panties back on and the shirt I had worn to bed. Not wanting the water to drip all over, I wrapped the wet pajamas in a towel. While stepping on one end of the towel, I twisted
I didn’t sleep too good, ’cause my skin was on fire all night long. My body tossed and turned like the sometimes working, potbellied washing machine Big Mama had sitting out on her back porch. Odetta must’ve had it rough with me too, ’cause she’d moved into the living room. I could hear her calling hogs from the couch.
Finally, it was morning. As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I could feel my clothes pulling—they was stuck to my skin. I looked down at myself and saw where the material had soaked into my welts when I was sleepin’ and made the pajamas stick to me. I felt sorry for my skin and wondered if I was always gonna have scars from this. I started to tear up, but I made my tears fall quietly, ’cause I didn’t want to wake Odetta. My head was pounding. It felt like somebody was standing on the inside of it beating me with a hammer to let them out.
I thought back on the other times when Lula had beaten me. Usually it was when we’d get word of my mama’s whereabouts. Or, if she’d misplaced something and I couldn’t read her mind to find it—
blam!
She’d haul off and hit me, like it was my fault she lost it. Once when Lula had gone on one of her sprees and used a rosebush stem to tan my hide, Sister had to put me in a tub of Epsom salt to calm my body down ’nough so she could help me take the little thorns out my skin. I kinda wished Sister was here to help me now.
I dried my eyes with the sleeve of my pajamas and slowly slipped off the bed onto the floor. I was gonna draw myself a tub and soak my clothes off. While I let the water warm up and the tub fill, I looked under the sink to try and find Epsom salt. I caught sight of what the grown folks called “clawed feet” on the bottom of the bathtub.
Out at the Thornhills’ we had a claw-footed tub too, but the left front foot on it had clawed its way right through the linoleum tile and the po’ thing was leaning to the ground whenever anybody got in it. At the same time, you could see what was going on under the house while taking a bath. Odetta’s tub was nice and white, wit’ no dirty body rings round the inside or softened turds left over from somebody getting a enema. Out at Big Mama’s it seemed like all us kids was full of backed-up bowel movements, and the only way to unplug our asses was to get in the bathtub and have some long white thing stuck up our butt holes. I sho’ didn’t like that a’tall, but this was just as bad. I found the salt and poured it into the falling water, just like I seen Sister do.
When the bath was halfway full, I sat on one side to get my feet warm; then I put my hands on either side and lowered my body into the water. I couldn’t believe that I was in somebody’s bathtub that I didn’t really know—I’d never been this far away from home b’fore, and I certainly barely bathed when I was home—but I was sho’ glad to have a clean white tub. It didn’t take long for the material to loosen up. Once I was wet enough, I started gently working my clothes away from my skin bit by bit. I’d grit my teeth down hard-like and pull the real bad ones back fast. Each time I pulled at the material, I told myself that I hated Lula’s guts for what she’d done to me. And I hoped that one day the same thing would happen to her, or worse, her own kids—except baby Ella. Maybe then she’d see what it felt like to be me.
I managed to get myself cleaned off and changed without waking up Odetta. I didn’t want for her to have to look after me too much, in case I needed to stay for a while. I put my own panties back on and the shirt I had worn to bed. Not wanting the water to drip all over, I wrapped the wet pajamas in a towel. While stepping on one end of the towel, I twisted
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