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Bless My Bleeding Heart

Bill Stenson

    Rich people often looked down on poor people in the valley and the valleys all around it for that matter. The reasons given were things like laziness, temperament, alcohol abuse, irresponsibility, lack of intelligence, drug abuse, inability to handle money, spiritual deprivation and occasional allowances made for bad luck. The view going the other way had its own list of specifics. A frantic WASP mentality that left no time for family, being born with a silver spoon in your mouth, a willingness to step on people’s throats, enough alcohol abuse to cause moral blindness, greed at all costs and occasional allowances made for good luck. No matter where you were on the prosperity scale, it was natural to contemplate what life would be like where you were not. Looking down could cause shivers of the spine or bile rising in the throat. Looking up caused envy in most, a dream-like fantasy in many, and anger in the hearts of a few. Marsha Hamilton found herself somewhere in the middle.
    Some Saturdays, when Rose Hamilton worked at the Winkle Dinkle downtown, her daughter, Marsha Hamilton, went along to help out. It was a distraction, and her mother always paid her more than Marsha Hamilton expected for the work she did. Rose always said the Winkle Dinkle sold nothing that anybody needed. Ornaments and nicknacks mostly, items far from art and just as far away from utility. A cucumber pillow, glow in the dark playing cards, pet rocks, rubber chickens, dog and cat sunglasses, talking toilet paper rolls, packages of endangered feces, whoopee cushions, hamburger phones, a list of 365 reasons to cry. Marsha Hamilton noticed the store serviced both rich and poor. If someone wanted to buy a rich friend or relative something they didn’t have, stop at the Winkle Dinkle. Come Christmas time, if money was scarce, at least a whoopee cushion would enliven the poorest household for a few weeks.
    When fourteen, Marsha Hamilton had her own purse, saved up for and made of leather, and she was in the habit of chewing gum. All flavours of gum and there were many to choose from. Some days she had to throw her gum out, not only because the flavour had become diluted but because her jaws were sore. She had learned to talk coherently to customers by sliding her gum behind her molars to be called upon later. A fourteen-year-old can view such a skill as genius.
    The Horlucks had three kids, ten, eight and five: Danny, Donny and Dougan. The family was the poorest of the poor and had been on welfare off and on, mostly on, for years. Mr. Horluck was a raging alcoholic who spent most of his time somewhere outside the house and not always in the same town, and when that happened the rest of the family considered that a blessing. Mr. Horluck no one would see for ages, and then he’d come home for a month, and later in the year the family grew by a count of one. Danny, Donny and Dougan visited Winkle Dinkle off and on and always looked in from the sidewalk, unless it was Christmas. One February the three boys entered the store and Rose noticed right away. She pointed at her own two eyes with two fingers then pointed the same two fingers at the knot of boys browsing such that Marsha Hamilton understood it was her job to keep an eye on them.
    That they might steal something was a given. Marsha Hamilton worked at tidying merchandise close by.
    We could get her this.
    Nah.
    What about this?
    Nah.
    How about this, then?
    Nah.
    Why are we getting her anything? She won’t remember it. She never does.
    It’s her birthday, stupid. We gotta get her something.
    Dougan asked questions, Danny made decisions, and Donny, the middle man, remained skeptical.
    Does your mom like to cook? Marsha Hamilton asked.
    Sometimes.
    Marsha Hamilton held up one finger for them to wait a minute, and it was a gesture all three understood. She went into the back room where they kept a box of items that had been around the store for a year without selling. They had been quarantined. The owner thought they’d hide the items away for six months and try again. Marsha Hamilton came out holding a white apron decorated in red. It was graphic, blood dripping everywhere, which may have been why it hadn’t sold, and the lettering said: Well bless my bleeding heart.
    How much? Danny said.
    Two dollars and ninety-five cents.
    It says four ninety-five, Danny said.
    It’s been discounted.
    It wasn’t a quick sale. Dougan liked that there was blood on it. Danny agreed they could find three bucks to pay for it. Donny doubted his mom would like it.
    When they left the store, Rose said, You know that may not be out for display, but it still has to sell for four ninety-five?
    I don’t see why. It’s just sitting there.
    Well, you and I don’t own the store, do we?
    Fine, I’ll make up the difference. Take it out of what you plan to pay me.
    I understand where you’re coming from, Rose said. But there’s a lesson in all of this. The Horlucks will never remember it. Your gesture won’t mean a thing.
    They said thank you, Marsha Hamilton said. Didn’t you hear them?
    Thank you means different things to different people, Rose said.

*

    The break from school at Easter proved to be warmer than usual. A friend of her mother owned two yappy dogs that needed feeding in the morning, then walked in the afternoon and fed a second time. Marsha Hamilton had to go back around eight at night to let the dogs out for a pee.
    The Horlucks lived down the street and around the corner from where she lived, and on her way home from walking the dogs she passed their house and saw Dougan sitting on the front step, crying. She stopped and watched him cry. He could see her standing there. She sat down on the step beside him.
    Mom can’t get up to cook, he said. Danny is off to steal some food. We’re outta food.
    You don’t have any food to eat?
    We’re outta food. No milk either.
    Where is your brother Donny?
    He’s trying to find money for food. He hates begging.
    Marsha Hamilton had one jawbreaker in her pocket. She gave it to Dougan. Thanks, he said. It didn’t seem right to give just one brother a candy.
    Rose cooked sausages, carrots and potatoes for supper. Just enough for two people. Marsha Hamilton said she planned to visit a friend and left early to let the dogs out to pee. She took her backpack and inside she had five eggs, half a loaf of bread, a small bag of carrots and half a box of Cheerios that had gone stale. At the store she bought a two litre bottle of milk.
    Danny answered the door. What you doing here? he said.
    I just brought a few things to help out. I was talking to Dougan.
    Dougan says more than he ought to. What did he tell?
    That your mom wasn’t well enough to cook and you were short of food. I know how to cook a few things, and I brought food with me. Just extra we don’t need.
    Danny didn’t say any more. He went out the back door and into the yard where his brothers sat on stumps. There were four stumps left from four poplar trees that had been taken down. It was smart to leave the stumps at that height. It was like an outdoor living room with places to sit. Danny talked to Dougan mostly, and she thought maybe the youngest was in trouble for telling her what he had.
    There was an empty package of icing sugar doughnuts on the counter. She thought they’d had that for supper, and what else was a guess.
    She found a pan and made scrambled eggs with water and pepper and salt. Then she made toast and set one raw carrot at the sides of three plates and called for them to come inside.
    Oh, wow, Danny said. He sat down and smelled what she had cooked. Dougan followed his brother’s lead. Donny looked everything over for a time, then he sat down too.
    Should we thank the Lord? Dougan asked.
    We should thank her, Donny said. She’s the one who brought it.
    It didn’t take long for them to finish. Marsha Hamilton thought they might leave the raw carrot, but they ate that too.
    I saved a bit of the egg for your mom, she said. Do you want me to take it in for her?
    She ain’t eaten right now, Danny said. She doesn’t have the stomach for it.
    It didn’t look like they wanted company, and Marsha Hamilton wasn’t sure she wanted to give it. She showed them the half box of cereal and where she’d put the milk in the fridge. The house didn’t smell too good, and she figured if her mom stopped doing anything around the house for a few days then her house would smell too.
    The next day she walked the dogs, both on leashes, past the Horluck house. She wanted the boys to see she had a job to do and her passing their house and taking an interest was a circumstantial thing. The next night she took over two boxes of Kraft dinner to cook. She bought a package of time-sensitive weiners at the corner store that were half price. When they’d had their fill, she set out a chocolate bar on the counter and cut it into three equal pieces. Well, as close to equal as she could gauge. When she left the second night, Dougan insisted she take one of his toy trucks with her. It was small enough to fit in her fist. Thank you she said, and Dougan looked relieved.
    There was a sense of self-importance to it all. She thought of telling her mother what she was up to, but then decided it would spoil it if she did. Her mother could react in several ways. She could tell her to leave the Horlucks to their own sorrow or she might jump in and take over. The boys needed help and right now she was the one to give it. Some things are that simple.
    The third night she brought them three cans of chicken soup and some crackers, another loaf of bread and some peanut butter. She guessed they would like the peanut butter. Most kids did. The house was a similar design to many in the neighbourhood, which told her the mother was likely sleeping in the bedroom at the back of the house. The door was always closed when she came and the room always silent.
    She warmed the soup and watched them eat. Since this was the third night in a row that she had shown up, they were in less of a hurry to eat. Each of them found something about the world to share with her. Donny said the tallest man in the world was eight feet eleven inches and he had to wear special clothes. She could tell by the look on Danny’s face that his younger brother knew something he did not.
    When they finished up, she said there were marshmallows in her backpack, and if they started a fire in the back and got some sticks ready she would bring them out. If not, she would take them back home with her.
    They argued over who would get the matches, the old newspapers, the kindling. It was like Christmas all over again.
    Once the boys left, she went to the room where she suspected Mrs. Horluck slept. She knocked on the door and called her name. Towels filled most of the gap under the door. When she opened the door, the smell overpowered her. She knew the woman was dead but forced herself to make a closer inspection. Her mouth was open and house flies skittered across her face.
    They got the fire going, and she took out the marshmallows as promised. Danny had marshmallow experience and insisted they wait a few minutes until the flames died down, until all that remained were embers. The four tree stumps were near the fire and Marsha Hamilton sat down on one of them. When the bag was half empty, she said they could have one more each, and she would leave the rest inside the house for another day.
    What happened to your mother?
    Dougan and Donny looked at their oldest brother. He was appointed to talk about such things.
    She’s sick, Danny said. She hasn’t gotten up for days. She won’t eat a thing. We keep waiting for her to wake up.
    When Marsha Hamilton listened, Donny and Dougan listened too. She considered whether the two younger boys believed what had been said. It was possible they did. Hope is sometimes all you can hang on to. She could tell that Danny knew more about the truth he was facing then he let on. He had likely thought through more than most people might expect. Like how they would be farmed out to foster parents if someone found out, and how they might not all stay together if that happened. Sometimes a situation comes along and there just isn’t such a thing as a happy ending. Marsha Hamilton knew that some kind of an end was close by, and it made her feel sad to think that way. All three boys had eaten their last marshmallow, and they watched her sitting on the stump, holding a bag still half full. They waited for her to say something, to tell them what came next. She would say something, and soon. But not just yet. For now they were all content to watch the fire in front of them burn to an end. If she were to change places with any one of them she would ask if she could have just one more marshmallow from the bag. This would not happen and she knew it. All three Dougan brothers knew better than to ask.

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