Novel: Filling the Cracks—Chapter Seven
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Trigger warning: The following story contains topics that may disturb some readers, including child physical and sexual abuse, domestic abuse, substance abuse, violence, and suicide. Although there is no explicit sexuality or language, this is written for an adult audience and may not be suitable for children.
Chapter Seven
A week passed, and life continued as usual for Beth. She walked to school daily with Lisa and spent most of her time in class bored; she excelled and completed her assignments before the other students. Afterward, she went home, cleaned, cared for Otto, and did her best to stay in the good graces of Virgie and Gary. No help from the outside came for her, and she lost hope that it ever would. It was her fate in life. She would either learn to live with it and press on or find her way out alone.
One thing troubling her was physical: every time she passed urine, there was a horrible pain beyond stinging. Did it have anything to do with the treatment she received from Gary? She waited until the pain bordered on unbearable, and there was a strange vaginal discharge in her underwear before mentioning it to her mother.
Virgie called Dr. Nader at the Coverville Medical Clinic and made an appointment for Beth. He was their family doctor and had cared for Beth since they moved to Coverville years before. Missing the last class of the school day on a Friday—which was no sacrifice—her mother picked her up from the elementary and took her to the clinic.
With a nurse and Virgie present, Dr. Nader examined Beth’s privates—which he called her vulva—for the first time, though he said it wasn’t a complete pelvic examination. She lay on the bench staring at the ceiling, embarrassed by the procedure. The doctor took a swab of the entrance to her vagina for the lab and sent Beth and her mother next door to the local laboratory to take blood and urine samples. His only comment before Virgie drove Beth home was that he suspected it was a urinary tract infection and nothing much to worry about. He gave Virgie a prescription for Cipro and sent them on their way.
Due to the pain, Beth took extra long at school on Monday in the washroom at recess.
“Hurry up, Beth or Miss Denke will be in here to kick us outside,” Lisa said from the other side of the toilet booth door.
Beth gritted her teeth as urine trickled out of her. “I’m coming. Go outside. I’ll meet you out there.”
Her friend agreed that was a good idea and left. Five minutes later, Beth joined her when Lisa and three other girls played jump rope, but Beth didn’t join.
“What’s wrong?” Lisa whispered. Beth whispered her answer in Lisa’s ear.
“Did the doctor think it was because of Gary?”
Beth shook her head. “He said it’s a UTI. Something to do with the tube from my bladder out of my body.”
“He didn’t notice anything else?”
“Never said a thing.”
The next day, Beth returned home from school to Virgie, waiting for her in the kitchen again. She was certain she’d committed another infraction and was about to be punished.
Instead, Virgie tossed her a new prescription bottle. “Doctor said it’s a different infection. Take these instead.”
Beth was an excellent reader, but she’d never heard of azithromycin before. “Is it an antibiotic?”
“Yes,” Virgie snapped, “and it’s more expensive than amoxil or Cipro, so don’t waste any of it. And don’t you dare tell anyone that you’re taking that stuff, you hear me? You know how the Gossips around this town like to talk.”
Beth couldn’t think of why the Gossips cared about her UTI, but she assured her mother she would keep it a secret.
She broke it later that same day when she went to the Jones house after Virgie left for work. Mrs. Jones had invited her and Otto over for dinner again. Gary wouldn’t like not having dinner ready when he came home, but Beth didn’t care. He hadn’t punished her worse for that yet.
“So, what do you have?” Lisa asked her in front of everyone at the dinner table.
Beth glared at her, but Mrs. Jones had already picked up.
“Are you sick?” her best friend’s mother asked, her eyelids fluttering and the corners of her mouth turning down.
“I just have a UTI,” Beth said quickly and stuffed a forkful of meat loaf into her mouth to avoid saying anything more.
Mrs. Jones exchanged a look with Mr. Jones that Beth couldn’t interpret before asking. “Are you taking penicillin for that?”
“It’s called a-zi-thro-my-cin,” Lisa blabbed, sounding out each syllable to get it right. “Whatever that is.”
“It’s a type of antibiotic,” Mr. Jones said. “At least it’s being taken care of. “ He changed the subject, “So it’s track and field season at school, isn’t it?”
Beth glanced up at him and smiled in thanks. He gave her a quick wink. Sometimes, his daughter was a blabbermouth with no idea what was appropriate to talk about and when. Once again, Beth found herself wishing she was a Jones family member, that Frank and Marg were her parents, and she didn’t have to return to her house before dark.
After dinner, they played board games before Beth and Otto returned to the Clark house for bed. At two-thirty, Gary came to Beth’s door. She awoke right away and steeled herself for another visit, but instead, he glared at her and hissed in a stage whisper, “You dirty little monster. You made me sick. Now, I gotta take medication, too. Just wait until it’s all cleared up. You’ll pay for infecting me.”
He left. Beth lay in her bed, trembling. What did he mean? She made him sick, too? Did she give him her UTI during his visits? If so, then he deserved what he got. Of course, she could never say so. And now she had to live in horrified anticipation of whatever new form of torture he’d think up to use against her once they were both healed.
#
As soon as Beth and Otto had returned home for the night, Marg Jones went to the family set of Encyclopedia Britannica and found the index volume, looking up azithromycin. She spent the next hour at the dining room table researching amoxicillin and azithromycin and the different infections each drug was used to treat. When Frank came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, she gazed up with a grieved expression.
“Frank, I don’t think Beth has a UTI if she’s taking azithromycin.”
He remained impassive, sitting next to her; she looked up an article and passed it to him to read. He skimmed the passage, clucking his tongue several times before exhaling through his nose.
“Chlamydia?”
Marg nodded. “I think so. There’s only one way Beth contracted that and only one person she got it from. It makes me so angry, I want to tear these encyclopedias in two.”
Frank put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. “At least Virgie is getting her treated.”
“It won’t do any good if Gary doesn’t get treated, too,” Marg fretted. “If Virgie doesn’t bother telling him, he might not even have symptoms or know he’s sick. Someone has to talk to her, get her to speak to Gary.”
“I’m sure the doctor told her,” Frank said, pressing his lips together in a grim line. “And if the doc knows Beth has Chlamydia, he knows she’s sexually active. At twelve, that’s got to set off alarm bells for him.”
“Maybe, but remember what happened to Aurora?” Marg said, lowering her voice so the children in the other room wouldn’t overhear. “The doctor knew she was assaulted and didn’t report it because he didn’t want to take a lucrative day away from his practice to testify in court. The entire system is corrupt. I’m going over there tomorrow before Virgie goes to work, and I’ll talk to her about making certain Gary gets treated.”
“Are you sure you want to get involved?”
“Somebody has to, for Beth’s sake. Chlamydia can leave her infertile or with chronic pelvic inflammation. That girl has it hard enough. Frank, we must do something to get those kids out of there.”
He kissed Marg’s temple. “We will. You’ll make certain of it.”
“Darn tootin’.”
Marg left school early the next afternoon to be sure she was at the Clark house before Virgie left for her shift at the hotel restaurant. Beth’s mother was surprised and a little nervous at Marg’s presence, but she forced a deadpan expression, standing in the doorway to block it, ensuring Marg couldn’t invite herself in.
“What can I do you for?” Virgie asked before taking a long puff off her cigarette and blowing the smoke in Marg’s face.
Marg pretended like she didn’t notice, resisting the urge to cough. “Can I come inside? I have something to discuss with you that should be kept private. I don’t think you’ll want the neighbors overhearing what I say.”
Virgie screwed her face up, apparently deciding Marg might have a point, and stepped aside to allow her neighbor in as far as the back entryway.
“What’s this about, Mrs. Jones? More accusations?”
Lifting her chin, Marg shook her head. “No accusations. Just a couple of warnings between friends. I know about Beth’s STD—yes, I said STD, not UTI. I know about her case of Chlamydia. Azithromycin isn’t used to treat UTIs but is for venereal disease. And we both know how she got it, don’t we?”
Virgie’s eyes flared with anger. She took another quick pull off her cigarette. “Do we?”
“Oh, yeah,” Marg assured her with a nod. “And if the person who gave it to her isn’t treated, he’ll give it to her again. It’ll permanently damage Beth. I won’t stand for that happening.”
“Really?”
“Really. So get him treated.” Marg turned to leave.
“You said you had a couple of warnings,” Virgie reminded her through gritted teeth.
Marg stopped, took her hand off the doorknob, and faced Virgie again. “That’s right. Here’s the second: I’m going to Social Services with what I know. There’s a record of Beth receiving azithromycin now, Virgie. Even if you convinced her doctor to hide it from her medical records, Mr. Landry at the pharmacy has more moral fiber than that. I’ll inform the authorities that a twelve-year-old is being treated for an STD her uncle gave her. Make it stop if you don’t want to lose your kids.”
Virgie narrowed her eyes. “You think you know so much, don’t you?”
Marg swallowed hard. “I don’t know half of it, which keeps me up at night. My God, Virgie! She’s your daughter.”
“That’s right.” Virgie stepped forward and stared Marg in the eyes. “She’s my daughter. Don’t forget it. No one’s taking my kids from me. You’d better keep your nose out of my business if you know what’s good for you. Get out of my house.”
Marg surveyed the clutter and filth, her heart going out to the children forced to live there. “Gladly. Shape up, Virgie.”
She left the house and hurried back to her home down the street, not feeling safe again until she was inside. Lisa and Aurora stood at the door waiting for her.
“How did it go?” Lisa asked.
Marg played stupid, walking past the girls toward the living room. “How did what go?”
“Your talk with Virgie,” her daughter replied, rolling her eyes. “We know you went over there to tell her off.”
Marg sat in an armchair.“Why would I do that?”
“Because you know as well as we do that Beth is sicker than she told us,” Aurora answered. “We all know she and Otto are in trouble over there, and you care too much to stand around and do nothing.”
Marg smiled at her two girls. “Just keep me informed about what goes on with Beth and Otto, and let Dad and I deal with it, okay?”
They agreed.
“Now go do your homework,” Marg told them. “It’s pizza night.”
They hugged her before heading to their bedrooms. With a sigh, Marg got up from her chair and went to the telephone in the kitchen. The number she called had become all too familiar. Did the caseworkers examine any of the reports she made to Social Services? Nothing occurred to help protect the Clark children. That wouldn’t stop her from making reports, but it became clear to Marg that she might have to take further steps and go above the heads of the workers taking the phone calls. She had to speak with a caseworker before they would take action. If that’s what it took, she was more than willing. No veiled threat from Virgie Clark would stop her from acting to protect those children.
#
Beth had no idea what she’d done to deserve the beating Virgie had given her before she’d left for work. She lounged on her bed doing her Language Arts homework when Virgie opened her door with a bang, holding the ‘spanking board’ in her hand. It was a wooden paddle about a foot long and six inches wide with a handle for easy wielding. Hand-painted on the paddle portion were the images of a fawn running away from a Grizzly and a caption that read, “For the sweet little Dear with the Bare behind.”
The girl hated that paddle. She’d hidden it once, and the subsequent beating had been twice as severe as usual once Virgie had found it buried in the flower bed.
“M-mommy, what—?”
She didn’t get to finish her question before Virgie lunged at her, raising the paddle over her head and bringing it down hard and fast across Beth’s shoulder blades. The twelve-year-old cried out from the pain and curled herself into a ball, protecting her vital organs, as her mother pounded her for thirty seconds with the piece of hardwood. Beth sobbed silently. The beating continued longer and was more intense if Virgie heard crying; she hated it when her children cried during their punishment.
When she had vented her wrath, Virgie stood over Beth, the paddle held at her side, and the woman panted from her exertion. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you, you little—.” Virgie finished her sentence with a vile epithet Gary liked to use for Beth. “Don’t blame me when you end up in some foster home with strangers who treat you like garbage.”
She shuffled out of Beth’s room and changed her clothes for work.
Beth waited until Virgie’s car drove away before she uncoiled and sobbed into her pillow. A hand rested on her back with a feather-light touch, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Otto.
“What?” She wiped her tears with her comforter.
He said nothing but extended his other hand to her to reveal two MoJos.
Beth took them from him. “Thanks, Otto.”
He nodded and left her, returning to the living room to watch TV.
Rolling off her bed, Beth went to the bathroom to examine her new injuries—welts with one cut on her neck—in the mirror. Virgie had been more accurate with her swings this time, hitting Beth’s back where her shirts covered her. She hid the marks and bruises, but moving was painful and difficult for the next few days.
The worst part was Beth had no idea what she’d done to earn the beating. The randomness hurt her heart the most.