Evelyn Evolving

3. EVELYN – September 1925

3

EVELYN – SEPTEMBER 1925

Sister Honora made Evelyn tremble. She always made Evelyn tremble. Sometimes, when looking into the stern face pinched tight by the wimple, Evelyn was afraid her bladder would let go and she would be punished twice. Once for not scrubbing the floor fast enough and again for soiling herself. That's what the sisters said about pee and poop. "Soiling oneself." As if she had rolled in the dirt outside. If she was not locked in such terror of the nun before her, Evelyn would find that thought amusing.

Two years had passed here at St. Aemilian's Orphan Asylum, and Evelyn still didn't understand why they had to stay. Couldn’t Miz Regina or Miz Beatrice not come and take them away from this horrible place? Everything was all so confusing, and Evelyn kept hoping that someday, someone would love them enough to come back and get them. Sometimes in her dreams, she lived with both women. Miz Beatrice not sick anymore and Miz Regina happy to have her girls back. Viola said it was silly to wish. Pointless to dream. Nothing was going to change.

“Child. Are you listening?”

The harsh words tugged at Evelyn. She nodded, unable to push words past the lump in her throat.

"Why have you not finished this floor?" The nun gestured down the hall with her walking stick. "You are as slow as molasses in winter. What good are you?"

"I don't know, Sister." A soft whisper.

That was met with a sharp c***k along Evelyn's backside. "Don't talk out of turn."

"But, I—"

Another smack. "I said no talking."

"But, you—"

This time, when the walking stick landed, Evelyn's bladder did let go.

"Now look what you have done. You dirty, nasty little child. Take those panties off. Right now."

Evelyn did as she was told, holding the wet garment gingerly between thumb and forefinger. Sister Honora took the panties on the end of her walking stick, then draped them over the child's head. "You will wear these to supper."

"No! Please, Sister. No!"

"Enough. Go!"

Standing in the middle of the dining hall, the rotten stench of old urine swirling around her while the other children pointed and laughed, was the most humiliating experience of Evelyn's young life. She swallowed hard and held back the bile that rose in her throat. She couldn't vomit. She wouldn't vomit. If she didn't want more humiliation, she didn't dare vomit.

She looked past the rows of tables and the laughing children, focusing on the picture of the Virgin Mary at the back of the large room. Mary, Mother of God, was supposed to be their mother too. Their friend, but she didn’t feel like a friend or a mother to Evelyn. She was just this lady in blue in a picture.

As the serving carts were brought out and the children lined up with their metal bowls to get their supper, the aroma of meat and gravy momentarily blocked the acrid smell of dried urine. Evelyn's mouth watered. She glanced at the carts. Dinner that evening was roast with potatoes and carrots and onions. A favorite of Evelyn's that she would not be allowed to eat. Children who broke the rules had no dinner, but not everyone was forced to stand in such embarrassment. This was reserved for the worst transgressions.

Viola walked past with her bowl to take a seat at a nearby table. She stared straight ahead, not even glancing at Evelyn. Maria, a girl of eight who had been friendly to Evelyn, gave her a quick look, then averted her eyes, taking a seat next to Viola.

That disregard, as if Evelyn was a stranger they had never seen before, cut deeper than the sneers from the others. Why couldn’t Viola even look at her?

For the rest of the dinner hour, Evelyn’s legs trembled from standing in one position for so long, and hunger rumbled in her stomach. And still nobody looked at her, except for Sister Honora, who seemed fixed on watching, as if wanting to catch Evelyn in some other transgression. She didn't know if Sister Honora would make her wear the dirty panties during evening prayer. She fervently hoped not. But she tried to steel herself for the possibility. She didn't want to cry. Not for hunger or for humiliation. She wanted to be strong like her sister. Viola never cried when the sisters hit her or insulted her or made her do horrible things. Viola would just set her jaw and look them in the eye and hold the tears back.

Somehow, Evelyn needed to find the strength to do that too. Otherwise, the other kids would learn how weak she really was and take advantage.

Evelyn stood for another painful hour as evening prayer followed dinner, and her only plea to a God she wasn’t even sure was listening was that the session would end before her legs gave out and she fell. Once, when Maria toppled over in a heap during a punishment, she had received ten hard smacks with Sister’s cane on the back of her legs. The same fate would have Evelyn hobbling for days.

Finally, when Evelyn thought she could stand there no longer, it was over. Sister Honora closed the book of evening prayers and walked down the aisle to Evelyn. “Take that filthy rag off your head and get washed.”

“Yes, sister.” Evelyn turned quickly and headed to the washroom. She took off her clothes and stepped into the large washtub that was used for bathing. The water was cold, but she didn’t care. She took the bar of lye soap and scrubbed her hair, and then went under the water, holding her breath for a long time. She wished she could stay under forever. Never have to face Sister again. Or be hungry. Or be teased by the other children.

Sputtering, Evelyn burst out of the water, gasping for breath. Two older girls were in the washroom. “Hurry up,” one of them shouted. “Get your stinky self out of here.”

Evelyn quickly got out of the tub and dried herself with a rough towel. Then she pulled on the clean clothes she had grabbed from the sleep room and dressed. She took the wet underwear to one of the sinks and washed them, soaping and rinsing and soaping and rinsing again to get the odor out.

After lights were out for a little while and all was quiet in the sleeping area, Evelyn heard a rustle of sheets and then felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up at her sister. “Here,” Viola said, holding out a hunk of bread wrapped in a napkin.

Evelyn grabbed the bread and took a large bite, sending a cascade of crumbs down the front of her nightgown.

“It’s making a mess.”

“Oh, brother,” Viola said, lowering herself to Evelyn’s bunk. A dim shaft of moonlight from the window fell across the front of Evelyn’s nightgown, and Viola saw the crumbs. She brushed them into her hand and then licked them off. “Be careful. If Sister finds crumbs, we'll both get punished.”

“Sorry.”

Viola sat on the edge of the bed. “Finish now. Then I'll clean up the rest.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Because that’s what sisters do.”

“But you weren’t nice in the dining hall.”

Viola looked off into the darkness. “I couldn’t.”

Evelyn didn’t understand why, but that was just one more thing she didn’t understand about this place or how differently her sister acted when they were alone. This sister. The one who would sneak her food at night, was the sister who always made Evelyn feel better for a little while. She poked Viola to get her attention.

“Are we ever going to get out of here?”

“I don’t know.”

“When I’m a mother, I’m not going to do this.”

Viola frowned. “What?”

“Give my babies away.”

“That’s years and years away. You don’t know what you’ll do.”

“Yes, I do.” Determination pushed her upright. “I’ll have a pretty house. Like Miz Beatrice. And three children. And a father. And a mother. And kittens who don’t run away.”

"Oh, brother."

Evelyn giggled. "You always say that."

Viola sighed. "You always say the silliest things."

“It’s not silly. It’s perfect.”

Viola sighed again, then put an arm around Evelyn. “You’re right.”

“What do you wish for?” Evelyn asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think about it much.”

Viola paused for so long Evelyn wondered if she was going to say any more, then Viola pulled her into a tighter hug. “We have to think about now, Evelyn. How we are going to survive here in this place.”

“Will you still take care of me?”

“When I can. But you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

A cold shiver of alarm ran down Evelyn’s back. “I don’t want to.”

“You have to. I’m going to take care of myself, and that will mean that sometimes…”

The sentence trailed off as if Viola wasn’t sure how to finish it, and then it hit. The reason Viola ignored her at dinner.

“I’ll be good. I promise.” But even as she said those words, Evelyn knew it wouldn’t matter. Being good had not made her mother love her enough to keep her. It had not kept Miz Beatrice from getting The Cancer. And it was not going to make her sister choose her over what would help Viola most. But Evelyn didn’t know what else to do but try.