Novel: Filling the Cracks—Chapter Six
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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 Six
Marg waited until Constable Hughes left before she turned to Lisa and Aurora, shaking her head in confusion.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t she tell him the truth?”
The girls sat together on the loveseat. Aurora pulled her long legs up and sat lotus-like,
“She was scared,” Lisa answered, and Aurora nodded. “If Virgie found out she told anyone about what’s going on, she’d get another beating. Otto, too.”
“But no one will tell Virgie that the report came from Beth and Otto,” Frank countered. He sat forward in his seat. His brow creased, the lines around his mouth deeper than usual.
“Constable Hughes will,” Lisa said. “Beth told me that he’s having sex with Virgie. He goes over there all the time. So if Beth told him, he’d report it to her mom instead of making it stop.”
“Son of a….” In front of the girls, Mr. Jones let his comment trail off. “The man is married. I met his wife when I unstopped their kitchen sink about a year ago.”
Marg fumed; she wrung her hands. “This is an outrage! No wonder we can’t get some law and order around our village with someone like him on patrol.”
“What do we do now?” Lisa asked. “Bethie needs help. We can’t just forget it.”
Marg rose from her seat, “I don’t intend to. We can’t trust that cop, but he’s not the only one around. I’ll call the Spruce Grove detachment tomorrow and make an appointment to talk to Constable Hughes’s superior. Someone there needs to know that Hughes isn’t doing the job he was hired to do. Frank, I’d like you to come with me for that meeting.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her determination amused him. She was the extrovert and instigator in the family, but he always stood behind her missions. And helping protect Beth and Otto Clark from further abuse was a crusade he could stand with.
#
#
The next day, Beth returned home from school to find Virgie seated at the kitchen table with a strange woman who took an immediate interest in her when she walked in the side door. The woman was a little older than Virgie, with short graying blonde hair, dancing green eyes, and a perpetual smile. She dressed smartly in a white blouse, black skirt, and bright red blazer.
“You must be Beth!” the woman greeted before Beth could close the door, hang up her book bag, and remove her shoes.
Beth said nothing, glancing at Virgie for a signal about how to respond to the lady. She glared back at Beth with an expression that said, “Watch your mouth.”
“Hi,” Beth said, hiding her hands behind her back; she waited for an introduction.
Virgie cast the stranger a strained smile and said, “This is Mrs. Lieder. She’s with Social Services. She’s here to check up on you and Otto. There were reports made by people who saw your bruises and were concerned.”
When Virgie said Lieder was from Social Services, Beth’s heart pounded hard, and her palms sweat. Her eyes widened by several millimeters, and she pretended she didn’t care.
“Yes, please pull up a chair,” Mrs. Lieder said, gesturing to the chair beside hers. “I wanted to talk to Otto, too, but I take it he’s out riding his bike. So, for now, we’ll have a chat without him.”
A chat? There was no way Beth could have a casual conversation with the government official, with her mother sitting there listening to and evaluating every word she spoke. Studying Virgie's reactions and picking her language would be an excruciating exercise.
Beth sat on the edge of the proffered chair, ready to bolt to safety at a moment’s notice, the slightest hint of wrath emanating from her mother.
“How are you feeling? I hear you fell down the stairs the other day. Were you hurt badly?” Mrs. Lieder asked.
Beth shook her head, her eyes shifting between Virgie and the social worker. “No, Ma’am. I feel fine. Everything’s good.”
“You’re doing well at school and with your best friend? Her name is Lisa, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m doing good at school, too. Everything’s good.”
Virgie laughed. “See? I told you. Everything is back to normal. She was clumsy and slipped with her socks on the steps—they’re covered in Lino and slippery. She’s just a normal, healthy, klutzy girl.”
“Mrs. Clark,” Mrs. Lieder said, her smile fading, “would you mind if I spoke with Beth alone for a few minutes? It’s protocol.”
Beth caught a flash of panic across Virgie’s face, but she doubted the social worker, who didn’t know her mother as well as she did, saw it. “Alone? Protocol? Oh, I see. Um, okay. Sure.” Virgie rose from her chair and inched out of the kitchen. “I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me.”
Mrs. Lieder nodded. “Thank you.”
Virgie cast Beth one last look of warning before disappearing. The moment they heard the sound of her bedroom door closing, Mrs. Lieder turned her chair to face Beth. She leaned in, and Beth smelled her perfume. It was the same brand her grandmother wore—Chanel Number Five.
“You can feel free to speak now, Beth. Everything you say is confidential. That means no one will tell your mother. Do you understand?”
Beth understood, but she didn’t believe it. She nodded; it was expected.
Mrs. Lieder was blunt. “Beth, has anyone hurt you on purpose? That means physical or sexual. Do you know what I mean by sexual?”
Beth knew but shrugged, pretending like she didn’t. Mrs. Lieder explained what that meant, providing a mini sex education lecture, and asked again, “Is anyone touching you in your private areas or forcing you to touch them in theirs?”
It was her opportunity to speak up to someone from the government, but nothing came out when Beth opened her mouth. Someone had stolen her voice and replaced it with the wind. Tears burned her eyes, and she shook her head in frustration.
“Take your time,” Mrs. Lieder said softly.
Beth took a deep breath and released it, her body trembling from head to toe. The walls and doors in the old house were paper thin. There was no doubt in her mind that Virgie stood with her ear pressed against her bedroom door, trying to listen to their conversation.
“I can’t tell you anything without getting into trouble,” Beth whispered, her throat dry and sore. “I’m sorry.”
“I can protect you,” Mrs. Lieder whispered back. “I promise.”
Beth met her gaze and studied her eyes for signs of deception. From an early age, she learned how to read people’s intents by the expression in their eyes. Lieder wasn’t lying, but all the same, Beth couldn’t allow herself to believe.
“Beth, I can make one phone call and have you out of this house tonight. You and your brother. But I need you to tell me the truth.”
Was it as simple as that? After all this time and the many occasions when adults had let her down, could this be the moment of Beth’s redemption?
She swallowed hard. It was now or never. “Gary stuck his penis in my mouth last night. After that, he shoved a pop bottle inside my privates. But you’re not going to do anything about it. Because nobody cares.”
The weight of what she’d done fell hard on Beth. Panicked, she jumped out of her chair, ran to her bedroom, and slammed the door. A moment later, Mrs. Lieder knocked, asking her to open it, to come out, but Beth lay on her bed with a pillow covering her face and refused. After a couple of minutes, there was no more knocking. Beth removed the pillow and, curious, went to the door, poking her head out. She heard nothing. She crept from the bedroom and found that Mrs. Lieder had left, and Virgie sat in the living room watching TV with Otto.
“I don’t know what you said to her,” Virgie said, “but it’s a good thing you got rid of her. Still, you have a big mouth and said something to somebody to make them think I’m a bad mother. You know what happens to liars, Beth?”
She trembled and shook her head, scooting away from Virgie on the sofa.
Her mother stood up and yanked Beth off the furniture by the wrist. She cried out; it felt like her arm came out of her shoulder socket. Dragging her to the bathroom, Virgie forced Beth onto her knees in front of the toilet.
“Liars get to clean the toilet with their forked tongue.”
Beth’s eyes widened in horror. “No, Mommy, please. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t lie.”
“Lick the toilet bowl,” Virgie commanded, her voice a growl. She lifted the seat and pointed at the rim. “Do it.”
The toilet hadn’t been cleaned in a week. It was the only one in the house, used by four people.
“Please, no, Mommy—“
Virgie pushed Beth’s head toward the toilet, the girl’s nose hitting the porcelain hard. It dripped red.
“I said lick it! The whole thing—clean. Or I’ll spank you so bad, you’ll wish you were dead.”
Beth was nauseated. She closed her eyes and touched the cool bowl with the tip of her tongue. Virgie pushed her head against the bowl again.
“Lick it!”
Beth obeyed. She licked the entire rim. That satisfied Virgie, who nodded. “Never tell anyone about our private business again, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Tears leaked out of Beth’s eyes and mingled with the blood on her face.
“Now clean up your mess—and the rest of the bathroom while you’re at it. After that, you’re grounded to your room.” Virgie went to her bedroom to get changed for work.
Beth hung her head over the toilet bowl and vomited. Once her stomach was empty and cramped from the retching, she held toilet paper to her nose until it stopped bleeding and flushed the evidence. She washed her face in the sink, scrubbed her teeth, and cleaned the bathroom until it shined.
Adults were liars and cowards. Government officials and the police were the worst of the bunch.
Beth hid in her room until Virgie left for work, then rejoined Otto to watch TV with him in the living room. He was sympathetic, allowing her to decide which program to watch next.
Television was a distraction, a temporary panacea for pain.
#
After her favorite television program was over, Beth walked over to the Joneses. Nobody was home, but they had left their dog, Bowser, in the fenced backyard to run around. He was a Border Collie cross, medium build with long hair, black over his entire body except for a white spot on his chest and white socks on his paws. He came ready to greet Beth. She slipped past the gate so he didn’t slip past her and make his escape; she knelt and hugged him; he made every effort to baptize her with his saliva.
She wept into his thick fur, hugging his wiggling body until he calmed, sat down, and allowed her to hold him and cry. Bowser sensed she needed his strength to console her. Once the tears were spent, she stood up to return to her house when the Jones van pulled up the lane and parked inside their garage. Lisa, having spotted Beth, came running out calling her name but stopped short of hugging her when she saw Beth’s red and swollen eyes. Mrs. Jones and Aurora came to stand behind Lisa.
“What happened?” Lisa asked.
“A social worker came to our house. I told her the truth. And she left.” Beth shrugged. “I’m still here.”
Anger replaced the quizzical expression on Mrs. Jones’s face. “I’m going to make some phone calls, Beth. Have you and Otto had supper? Get him. We’re making spaghetti, and there’s lots for everybody.”
Mrs. Jones went into her house with Aurora. Lisa walked with Beth to the Clark house to get Otto and tell him to join them for supper. Her brother wasn’t about to argue when there was food involved.
Otto had the task of feeding and watering Bowser. Beth helped Lisa and Aurora prepare the Caesar salad while Mrs. Jones cooked her special spaghetti sauce and talked on the phone. Beth didn’t know who she spoke to. Still, she demanded to speak to somebody’s supervisor and was tired of waiting for a response. If somebody didn’t do something quick about “the situation,” she’d take the matter to the “Minister of Social Services.” After a few moments of silence, Mrs. Jones slammed the phone receiver on the cradle on the wall.
“They put me on hold!” she exclaimed. “Just wait until Frank comes home. I’m going straight to the top!”
Frank Jones was a moderating voice of reason over the dinner table. “We’ll go to the premier with the matter if that’s what it takes,” he assured his wife and Beth. “But there’s a system that we have to play. You won’t get anywhere bucking the system.”
Beth said nothing, twirling her fork in her spaghetti. She knew the system. She’d fallen through its cracks. They’d have to dig up the entire sidewalk to help her now. Nobody would do that.