Family Inheritance

CHAPTER 3: NORTHERN MINNESOTA

Chapter 3

Northern Minnesota

The houses in the government-subsidized neighborhood were tiny square boxes situated on small square lots, and the streets were overrun with children in varying degrees of dress. Many of them wore soiled clothes that had seen better days. Alice Hudson trudged up the walk to her cracker-box house, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. She had lived in the development so long that familiarity blurred it into the background of her consciousness.

When she first moved here, Alice had planted flowers, washed her windows, hung pretty, fresh curtains, and even tried to dig up soil for a garden in the backyard. She had been full of hope and dreams back then. Dreams of a happy family and a nice, neat little house with a white picket fence. Now, the windows were dirty, the curtains were gone, the garden had been overtaken by weeds, and her dreams were tiny little specks in the back of her mind. The reality of life had weighed her down into acceptance. She just tried to get through each day, dealing with as little as possible.

Alice huffed, and sweat dripped from her tightly permed hair down her face as she dragged her five-foot-four-inch frame up the few steps to the front door. The elastic band on her XXXL pants squeezed into her stomach as she bent over to place her grocery bags on the stoop, then she leaned against the doorjamb for a moment to catch her breath. Her youngest child, Sam, was out there somewhere in that throng of kids. He would have come home from school an hour or so ago, raced in to grab some Kool-Aid, and then back out to play.

“Boy, it’s hot today,” she complained to herself as she mopped the back of her neck with her hand. The temperature was sixty degrees, very warm for an April day in northern Minnesota, but with her massive frame, even a pleasant day felt hot to Alice.

Opening the door and stooping once more for the grocery bags, Alice slowly pulled herself inside, and as she scanned her surroundings, exhaustion completely took over her body and soul. The breakfast dishes were still on the counter. The table was cluttered with empty cereal boxes, a loaf of bread, the peanut butter jar, and five empty beer bottles. Alice hadn’t felt like cleaning up before going over to Thelma’s to have coffee and watch soap operas, and since she had been gone, her husband, Jake, had added his collection of beer bottles to the mess.

She plopped the grocery bags on the counter, moved dirty dishes off to one side with a sweep of her hand, and walked toward the living room to find Jake. Her foot caught on the edge of the curled linoleum as she stepped out of the kitchen and almost fell. She had long ago stopped asking Jake to fix anything in the house, because it just made him mad, and Jake was mean when he was mad. Alice and the kids had learned to pick up their feet so they wouldn’t trip on the jagged edge.

As she headed into the small living room, with its outdated and worn furniture, Alice wasn’t sure why she pretended to search for Jake. She knew she would find him passed out on the couch in front of the television. He hadn’t gone out to try to find a job again today, she was certain of it. He had made excuses about his back hurting for the past two years. Why would today be any different? Besides, the welfare coming in every month kept food on the table, and he always figured out ways to make sure there was money for beer, so why work? Alice had accepted that things would never be different. As her mother often said, “You made your bed, lie in it.”

And there he was, sleeping on the couch. She moved as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake him. If he woke up, he would scream about the dirty house and the dishes not being done. He would grab a beer or two, demand dinner, call her fat and lazy, then head out of the house to play poker with the boys. It was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

As Alice walked down the hallway, she kicked a pile of dirty clothes out of her way. The kids were running out of clean clothes to wear. I’ll wash tomorrow. Slowly, she made her way to her bedroom and closed the door. Then she lay down on the sagging mattress, placed her arm over her eyes, and gave way to the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

It seemed like a matter of minutes before she felt someone pushing on her arm. “Mom . . . are you awake? I’m hungry. You gonna make dinner?” Her eight-year-old son, Sam, was tugging at her elbow. “Dad says to tell ya to get your lazy lard outta bed. He’s hungry and wants something to eat before he goes to play poker.”

Alice groaned and slowly pulled herself awake. Her dream was so nice. She had been thin, lived in a clean house, her children resembled the ones in the magazines, and her husband . . . oh, her husband . . . he was clean and smelled like Dial soap. But best of all, he treated her special. The dream had been so warm and comforting that it was hard to come back to reality. Alice didn’t want reality. She wanted them all to leave her alone.

“Mom, come on. Dad’s getting mad, and I’m hungry.” Sam’s hands were now gently pushing on her shoulder as his voice rose.

Alice’s eyes came fully open. She gazed at Sam, with his red scraggly hair and freckled face. He was the oddball of the family. When Sam was born, Jake had been sure that he wasn’t his. In fact, he had really raised a scene at the hospital, refusing to talk to her for two days and calling her a s**t and a pig. Then his mother had come to see the baby and told Jake that his grandfather had been born with red hair. Jake had calmed down, but he had never apologized. Jake didn’t apologize. He didn’t seem to think he ever did anything to apologize for.

Sluggishly sitting up, Alice ran her stubby fingers through her hair, tugged at her wrinkled shirt, and straightened the elastic waist on her polyester slacks. She felt disgruntled and dirty, disgusted with life, and madder than hell. She was not sure why she felt so mad. Maybe it was because they had interrupted her dream, her only chance at peace and happiness.

“Mom, for heaven’s sake,” her daughter, Sarah, screamed from the kitchen, “you left the groceries on the counter, and the ice cream melted onto the floor. Now guess who gets to clean up that mess! This whole place disgusts me!”

“Sarah, quit your bellyaching,” Jake bellowed from the living room. “Your lazy slob of a mother can barely drag her carcass around. Just clean up the mess, and somebody make me my damn dinner so I can get the hell out of here.”

Tears flooded Alice’s eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “Mom, are you crying?” Sam peered up at her as they walked toward the kitchen. A lump formed in Alice’s throat. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a small hug.

“Damn it, Alice,” Jake bellowed as she walked into the kitchen. “You look like something that just walked out of a garbage dump. Don’t you ever comb your hair?”

Alice glared at him. Look who’s talking, you unshaven jerk. Why should I clean up when you’re such a filthy pig? Why should I take care of myself when nobody ever takes care of me?

Quietly going to the cupboard, Alice pulled out three packages of macaroni and cheese. She started cooking the macaroni, sliced in some frozen hot dogs, and pulled a can of corn off the shelf. Pouring the corn into a pan, she turned to set the table. “Sarah, wash off some silverware, will ya?”

“I’ve got homework to do.” Sarah finished cleaning the melted ice cream off the counter and floor. Throwing the rag in the sink, she muttered, “Do it yourself.” Then she stalked out of the room.

With a quiet sigh, Alice washed the silverware. This was not the life she had dreamed of when she was a girl. She had always believed that growing up held some magic to it and that somehow she would have a different life than her mother had. Now she knew how wrong she was. Her life was just like her mother’s. As she scrubbed the dried food from the silverware and watched the crumbs slip into the drain, she sent the last of her childhood dreams right along with them.

When the timer went off for the macaroni, Alice mixed milk, margarine, and cheese into the hot, drained pasta and stirred it around. Then she set the pot with the macaroni on the table next to the pan with the cooked corn, tossed a spoon into each, and yelled, “Supper’s ready.”

Everyone rushed into the kitchen. Jake flopped himself into his chair, the spot he deemed for the “head of the household.” Sam and Sarah slumped into their customary spots, and Alice heaved herself into her chair. Jake scooped the macaroni onto his plate, slopped a spoon of corn down next to it, and started shoveling the meal into his mouth.

They ate their meal in silence, except for Sam, who chatted excitedly. “We played this neat game after school today. Teddy’s dad showed us. You kick this ball around, but it’s not a kickball. Teddy said the game is called soccer!” He took a sip of water, then continued. “I got an A on a test today. And it was a ’specially hard test too. Mrs. Williams gave me two stars on it, and they were red stars. That means I did real good.”

No one responded to Sam. Instead, Jake regarded the food on Alice’s plate. She had taken very little. “Thank God you’re cutting down. You look like an overgrown hippo. It’s about time you did something about that bulk you carry around.”

Sam lowered his head and finished eating without saying another word. Alice silently nibbled at her food. The glare in Jake’s eyes was intense, and out of the corner of her eye Alice noticed Sarah carefully watching the interaction between her parents, her eyes shooting angry darts at Alice. Sadness encompassed Alice as she felt her husband’s anger and her daughter’s hatred. Why do they both hate me? What have I done? Am I that awful that my own husband and daughter find me disgusting? A headache grew at her temples.

When dinner was over, the house was quiet. Jake had gone to play poker, Sarah was at Karen’s, and Sam was outside playing. Cloaked in sadness and despair, Alice moved slowly down the hallway toward her bedroom. The small, crowded room had a sagging double bed and two dressers that were chipped and badly in need of paint. Clothes were scattered on the floor all around the room and piled onto every available surface. Alice didn’t even notice her surroundings as she closed the door, locking it behind her.

In a daze, she stepped into the small walk-in closet, pushed through clothes that were hanging on both sides until she came to a pile of old clothes in the back corner. She pawed through the pile much like a dog digging in the ground searching for whatever might be buried underneath. At the bottom, she found what she was foraging for—a box of chocolate candy bars. Twelve delicious chocolate nut bars that she had bought just days earlier. She’d hidden them away for when she needed them. Tonight, she did.

Alice sat down on the bed with the precious box on her lap. She carefully unwrapped a bar of chocolate, then lifted it to her mouth and shoved it in. Her movements became jerky and sporadic, and her eyes glazed as she ate one candy bar after another.

She was a woman possessed.

Her mind didn’t seem to be present as she stuffed the chocolate into her mouth, barely having room to chew the first one before another bar followed. All too soon, the twelve bars were gone, and Alice lay back on the bed. Calmness invaded her. As she settled back to enjoy her sugar high, she sighed, grateful that she didn’t have to think about her pain or deal with Jake, Sarah, or Sam. The chocolate took care of that.

Except, her euphoria didn’t last long. Ten minutes later, Alice was disgusted with herself. She surveyed the wreckage from the candy bars. Wrappers were strewn everywhere, and chocolate smudges decorated her fingers. She tried to wipe the chocolate smears off her hands, but the more she rubbed them, the bigger the mess became. She stopped and sat silently on the bed. The headache she always experienced after her binges was starting at the nape of her neck. Somehow it was disturbingly comforting.

Alice grabbed a piece of dirty clothing from the floor and angrily wiped at the chocolate smudges. An internal struggle was beginning to build inside of her. The part that needed comforting railed against the part that knew she was ultimately hurting herself. Alice felt caught in the middle of the battle that was raging between her mind and her desperate need for nurturing.

Feeling exhausted, she lay back on the sagging mattress. Gathering a bulge of stomach fat between her hands, she whispered into the empty room, “I won’t do this again. I’m going to start losing weight. I’m going to start cleaning my house, and I’m going to be a better mother. I am. I swear I am.”

With purpose, Alice climbed out of bed and cleaned up the mess from the candy bars. As she headed into the kitchen to make good on her promise to herself, the phone rang. She huffed as she answered.

“That you, Alice?”

“Yes, Mom, it’s me.” Her mother always asked the same question each time she called. Who the heck else is gonna answer my phone, Queen Elizabeth? Alice thought as she lowered herself in the chair near the phone.

“I’m feeling poorly today, Alice.”

Alice closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. This will be another long call. Mom is in one of her whining moods again. Knowing that her mother expected her to just be quiet and listen, Alice sunk into the reality of her life, acquiescing to the silent demand.

When Alice didn’t say anything, her mother continued. “Well, did you hear what I said? Doesn’t anybody care how I am? I could die right up here in this old farmhouse, and you wouldn’t care at all.” She let out a long, purposeful sigh. “A woman raises three daughters, and then they all go off to leave her to be lonely and die alone. Some gratitude after all I did for all of you. And you’re the worst. Seems you could come out and see me more than once a week.”

As the voice droned on and on, Alice sunk farther into the chair, rolled her eyes, and closed off her mind. She knew she didn’t have to really listen because it was the same old words she had been hearing for years now. She could probably recite them before Mom even spoke them.

Several minutes passed before her mother ran out of anything to say and returned to her original statement. “I’m feeling poorly today. Chest seems to be aching some. I’m gonna die, you know that? I’m gonna die, and I’ll probably be alone in this old farmhouse when I do.”

“You’re just tired. You’ll be okay. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll come to see you tomorrow, I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Alice sighed. “I’m tired now, Mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” As Alice hung up the phone feeling exhausted from listening to her mother, she scanned the dirty kitchen, then slowly walked back to the bedroom, locked the door, and headed to yet another well-hidden stash of chocolate.

The streetlight shining through the window cast shadows on the ceiling in Alice’s bedroom. After lying awake for hours, her eyes were accustomed to the semi-darkness. She hadn’t been able to sleep tonight. Everything in her life was in chaos. Even her children were out of control. One of the neighbors had accused Sam of stealing money from her pocketbook. Sarah hadn’t come in until after midnight, and it was a school night.

Alice felt scared and helpless. The candy bars helped her feel better, but it never lasted long. Plus, she was getting worried about her headaches and the blurriness in her eyes. Yet, without her chocolate she didn’t think she could put up with Jake, the kids, and the house. Especially Jake.

A sob started in her belly as her mind wandered to the large bottle of aspirin in the bathroom and what it would feel like to peacefully sleep forever. Then the front door opened, and Alice heard Jake drunkenly stagger through the house. She glanced at the clock. It was three a.m.

Bile churned in her stomach, and a lump lodged in her throat. Her fear-filled eyes glared into the darkened room as she heard him bump into something, swear, then kick whatever he’d bumped out of the way. Alice quickly turned on her side, away from the door, and scooted down lower in the bed, trying to become invisible. She didn’t want to face him. She didn’t want to deal with him. If she pretended to be asleep, maybe, just maybe, he’d leave her alone tonight. Sometimes he did if he thought she was sleeping. Maybe tonight she would be lucky.

She listened as he made his way down the hall. He stopped briefly, twisted a doorknob, slapped his hand hard on a door, swore, and continued his stumbling toward their bedroom. Did he try the closet door again? Is he so drunk he doesn’t know where his own bedroom is? Her breath seemed to stick into her throat as Jake staggered into the room.

Even from a distance, Alice could smell alcohol and could tell from the sound of his movements that he was worse off than usual. Her fingers curled tightly around her pillow, pulling it closer to her, trying to shield herself from what she knew was coming. Tonight he sounded like an angry drunk. There were times when he came home a happy drunk, and he was almost kind to her. Then there were nights like tonight when he was mean and angry.

She unconsciously curled into a fetal position. A large hand roughly grabbed her shoulder. “Alice! Hey, fatso! Wake up! I’ve got a hard-on and need your body.” Alice cringed. Deep inside, she felt another piece of herself die.

It hurt when he was nasty to her. It hurt when she was just a release for him. She longed for tenderness, for caring. She continued to pretend she was sleeping. She couldn’t take this, not tonight. His hand briskly slapped the back of her head and his voice became louder. “Damn it, Alice. I said wake up.”

Light blared into her eyes as he flipped on the wall switch. He forcefully turned her toward him. She sensed that he wouldn’t give up. She knew it was one of those nights, and she might as well just endure it. It will soon be over. Please, God, let it soon be over.

There was no gentleness in Jake tonight, no concern for her or if her body was ready to receive his. He climbed on top of her. When she started to protest that he was hurting her, he slapped her, telling her to shut up. Alice closed her eyes, gritted her teeth in pain as another chunk of her soul was torn from her.

Jake grunted and groaned as he spurted into her, heaving into the air in angry, gasping thrusts. Then he rolled off her and almost instantly slipped into a drunken sleep. Alice lay in the well-lit room feeling bruised and broken. She wondered how many more pieces of her heart and soul she could lose before she would just be a hollow shell.