Tully

‘Tully, the house is completely quiet except for you and me. She can’t be in the house. Where could she be?’

‘Did you try the bathroom?’ Tully said faintly, hating Jennifer at that moment.

Lynn Mandolini started to breathe very hard. ‘There is no noise in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘Why would she be in the bathroom?’

Tully carefully got off the bed, slowly walked past Mrs Mandolini across the hall, and put her hand on the bathroom doorknob.

The door was locked.

Tully stepped away and sank to her knees. ‘She is in the bathroom,’ said Tully, putting her hands to her face.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ said Lynn. ‘Here, let me try. It’s probably just stuck, it sticks sometimes.’

The bathroom door was locked.

‘Jenny?’ said Lynn.

Tully bit down on her lip until she tasted salt and metal.

‘Jenny Lynn,’ said Mrs Mandolini, knocking on the door. ‘Jenny Lynn, honey, open the door, what’s the matter? Honey, please open the door, Jenny Lynn. Jenny Lynn? Jennifer! Open the door! Open the door, Jennifer! Open the goddamn door!’

Tully knelt with her eyes closed, her hands to her ears, mumbling incoherently to herself, ‘Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…’ all the while listening to Mrs Mandolini’s weeping voice, to her body thudding against the door, to her crying, ‘Jenny Lynn, Jenny Lynn! Honey, please! Open the door for Mommy! Open the door for your mommy, Jenny Lynn!’

Mrs Mandolini ran stumbling downstairs, got a screwdriver, ran back up, knelt down in front of the door handle, and started to frantically unscrew the lock, her right hand on the screwdriver, her left wiping her face, and all the while muttering, ‘Jenny Lynn, Jenny, it will be all right, honey, it will be all right.’

Behind her, Tully clasped her hands. ‘…Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven…’

Lynn got one screw out and before the other one was out she shoved the door open with her shoulder as Tully lowered her head and clenched her trembling hands. ‘…Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those…’

Tully’s eyes were shut tight, but she was not deaf, and only the deaf and the dead did not hear Lynn Mandolini scream and scream and scream when she pushed open the bathroom door and found her daughter.

II Railroad Days

Be still my soul; be still

A.E. Housman

SIX A House of Little Illusion

May 1979

Shortly before Tully’s high school graduation, a woman named Tracy Scott approached Tully at the Washburn Day Care Center where Tully continued to work on Thursday afternoons. Tracy Scott was a large-boned woman of about twenty-five whose skirts were short, exposing a good deal more of the fleshy white thigh than Tully cared to see.

Tracy’s three-year-old son Damien attended the Washburn nursery. Tully wasn’t sure how many credits the parents actually needed to take at Washburn University to enroll their kids in Washburn Day Care. Tully guessed by listening to Tracy that it couldn’t have been many.

Tracy Scott wanted to know if Tully would mind looking after her little Damien for the summer, five or six nights a week.

‘My new boyfriend’s a musician,’ Tracy Scott told Tully. ‘And me, I wanna be with him to support him, you know, while he plays. He’s real good. He sure is. You’d think so, too, if you saw him. Maybe you can come sometime.’

Tully was uncertain. Where did Tracy live?

‘Right across from White Lakes Mall. On Kansas. Well, really, it’s right behind Kansas. There may be one or two late nights. Dependin’ on where we gotta go for a gig. I used to take Damien with me, but I don’t think Billy likes that too much, Damien gets cranky. Besides, Dami needs a little…what d’ya call it? Peace. He’s just a little kid. Maybe staying out so late isn’t so good for Damien, don’t you agree?’

Tully couldn’t have agreed more.

‘I can’t pay a lot, Tully,’ said Tracy. ‘But Damien sure likes you, he talks about you at home. I’ll be able to make up what I can’t pay you with room and board, how’s that? I have a spare room you can use, you’re still livin’ at home, right? So what do you say? Will you think about it?’

Tully said she would.

A few days later, Hedda was walking home from work when she was accosted by a thin girl in cutoffs and a tank top. The girl walked behind Hedda for a little while, but finally got the courage to approach her.

‘Are you Hedda Makker?’ she asked.

Hedda looked the girl over and said, ‘Who are you?’

‘You don’t know me,’ the girl answered. ‘But I know your daughter.’

Hedda immediately sharpened up.

‘What’s your name?’ Hedda asked the girl.

‘Gail,’ the girl answered, trying to keep up with Hedda. ‘Gail Hoven.’

‘Gail, is there something you want to tell me?’

‘Hmm, yes, hmm, well.’ Gail seemed extremely nervous. ‘Did you get my letter?’

‘What letter? I’m really tired, Gail,’ said Hedda. ‘I’d like to go home now.’

That seemed to encourage the girl. ‘Mrs Makker,’ she said. ‘I think you should know that your daughter has been going out with my boyfriend since September.’

‘Ahh,’ said Hedda.

‘At Jennifer’s eighteenth birthday party she met him and they’ve been meeting, like, two or three days a week ever since!’

‘Three days a week, huh?’

‘Yes, ma’am, uh-huh,’ Gail said. ‘She’s been lying to you. I just thought you might like to know.’

‘Well, thank you, Gail,’ replied Hedda. ‘But I already knew that.’

Gail seemed baffled by this. ‘Oh, oh,’ she stammered.

‘She is a big girl now,’ said Hedda. ‘She can do as she pleases. Now let me go home, Gail.’

‘Yes, of course, Mrs Makker,’ said Gail, stopping in the middle of the street.

‘Oh, and Gail?’

‘Yes, Mrs Makker?’

‘Maybe you should try getting yourself another boyfriend, or doesn’t anyone else want you?’ said Hedda, walking away without turning around.

At home, Hedda waited for Tully. She did not make dinner. She did not talk to Lena. The TV was off. Hedda sat and waited. At seven-thirty, she asked Lena to go to her rooms.

Tully did not get home until after eight. She had gone to visit Tracy Scott’s home. Tracy lived in a trailer – a trailer, for God’s sake! And not just a trailer, but a dirty, run-down trailer, with dirty washing and dirty dishes and dirty Damien all over. But that’s not what offended Tully. What offended her was that Damien lived in a dirty, run-down trailer, with dirty washing and dirty dishes all over. Tracy apologized for the mess and the smell. ‘I’m real sorry. I been so busy, I didn’t get a chance to clean up.’ But somehow Tully doubted Tracy Scott ever had a chance to clean up. The trailer’s dirt looked lived-in. Well, this would certainly be a lateral move, thought Tully as she drove home. Like it mattered, anyway.

When Tully came through the door and saw her mother’s face, she said, ‘Sorry I’m late, Mom, I was over at Julie’s.’

Hedda got up off the sofa, strode over, and hit Tully full-fist in the face. Tully staggered back from the blow and fell. Hedda, teeth clenched, sweating, completely mute, came close and kicked Tully in the stomach.

She kicked Tully again and again and Tully started to shriek. Her screams carried through the front screen door into the Grove, and a few neighbors came out. They whispered to each other, but no one dared go near the house.

‘Ma!’ shrieked Tully, still supine, trying to scramble away from her mother’s foot. ‘Stop it, stop it, stop it!’ She finally managed to get up and put her hands over her face, while her mother, foaming at the mouth, punched her, hissing, ‘Slut, slut, slut.’

From the time Tully was two, she learned fear, and with fear she learned hate, and with hate she learned silence. But something else, too, came out this evening. As Tully struggled up, hands over her face, trying to protect herself, Tully felt rage rising. It nearly lifted her off the ground with its force, and she grabbed her mother’s hand and knocked it against the wall, hissing back, ‘Stop it! Stop it, you crazy woman, stop it!’

Hedda was much stronger than Tully and seeing her daughter angry only made her crazier and stronger. Hedda flailed at Tully, grabbed her with both hands around the neck and began to shake and strangle her.

For Tully, the sensation of not being able to breathe was an odd one in real life. She had woken up with the sweat and fear of death so often that to not be able to breathe at first felt oddly like a dream, and – as if in a dream – Tully felt her suffocation in slow motion and didn’t fight. Quite familiar with the feeling, she did not panic, nor even gulp for air. She finally lifted her knee and hit Hedda with what strength she could muster square in the crotch. Hedda gasped and let go. Seeing Hedda’s hands between her legs made Tully braver. Tully gritted her teeth and grabbed Hedda’s tangled hair, yanking it up and down and hissing all the while, ‘You’re fucking crazy! Fucking crazy!’

After a few moments, Tully let go of her, and as mother and daughter backed away from each other, they saw they were both covered with blood. They stood there for a long moment, looking at each other dumbly. Hedda stared at her own hands, her own shirt, and then at Tully. Tully stared at her mother and then held up her unstitched wrists, which had opened up. Having been recently cut again – for the first time in three years – they had had no time to heal and were bleeding profusely onto Tully’s palms and fingers and down to the floor in the hall. Drops of dark blood formed red quarters on the black and white tiles. Tully pressed her wrists to her chest.

Hedda started screaming. ‘You slut, you liar!’ she shrieked. ‘You slut! You liar!’ And then, out of breath, she lunged again for Tully, who, calmer now and prepared, backed away fast, to see her mother fall on her knees, get up, and lunge for Tully again. And again. Trying to move away, Tully became slower and calmer, as if too much tension and anger weakened all her defenses. But she knew it was not tension and anger that was calming her down, for the light-headed feeling turned into the familiar Whoooshhh, and she saw not Hedda in front of her, but the waves and the rocks. Rocks blended in with the visual unreality of her mother, her mother screaming at her for being a slut and a liar while Tully stood there and bled.

‘What are you saying, you crazy woman, what are you accusing me of?’ Tully said weakly, holding her wrists to her chest. She knew she had little time. Her legs were buckling under her, and she wanted to hold on to a chair or sofa, yet couldn’t while holding on to both her wrists.

‘You’ve been fucking since September!’ screamed Hedda.

Tully lost all her sensibilities. She charged at her mother, flinging her hands in front of Hedda, her wrists spitting blood into Hedda’s face. ‘Since September? September! You mean since September ’72, don’t you, Ma! Since September ’72, right, Ma, starting with your brother-in-law – my Uncle Charlie! Right, Ma? Right?’

Hedda, supporting herself by leaning against the back of the couch, looking at Tully and breathing hard, shook her head and hissed, ‘This will all come to a complete stop, do you hear me? You will not be a slut and a liar under my roof!’

Glowering at Tully, Hedda went for her again, but fell on the floor, spent, and from the floor said, ‘Not while you are living in my house, do you hear me?’

‘Great!’ said Tully. ‘Fuck you!’ She wanted to shout it, but she had nothing left in her to shout with. Her split wrists shouted ‘Fuck you!’ all over Hedda’s face and floor, while Tully turned and stumbled up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Hedda lay there until she got her breath then stood up, wiped her face with her sleeve, and went upstairs. She found Tully on her knees in her room, in front of her bed, wrists sloppily bandaged, stuffing clothes into milk crates.

‘What are you doing, Tully?’

‘I am getting the hell out of here, Mother,’ said Tully, not looking at her.

‘You are not leaving this house.’

‘Uh-huh. Right.’

‘You aren’t leaving this house! Tully! Did you hear me?’

‘Mother, did you hear me?’

‘You aren’t going anywhere, sit down and calm down. You’re hurt. You been cutting yourself again.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Mother. Get out of this room and leave me alone.’

‘Tully, don’t you fucking talk to me like that!’ Hedda shrieked, and started toward Tully.

Tully got up off her knees and, standing up straight, legs apart, both bandaged hands in front of her, pointed the long barrel of a .45 pistol at Hedda Makker.

Hedda stopped cold and stared at the gun.

‘Where did you get that?’ she whispered.

‘Mother,’ said Tully. Her voice was weak, but her eyes were those of a madwoman. ‘That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am leaving and I am not coming back. You must be familiar with that, Mother, your family leaving you and not coming back?’

Hedda flinched.

Tully laughed. ‘How could I say that to you, Mother? Because you’re fucking nuts! That’s how! And you’re making me crazy, too.’ She lowered the gun but continued to stand legs apart in front of her mother.

‘Put the gun down,’ said Hedda.

‘Mother, I want you to leave this room. I will be out of your house in just a few minutes.’

‘I don’t want you to go,’ said Hedda. ‘I lost my temper.’

‘Too late,’ said Tully.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ repeated Hedda dully.

‘Ma!’ Tully screamed. ‘Get out of this room right now so I can get out of this house! Do you hear me?’

Hedda did not move.

‘Because I’ll tell you something, and you might be surprised to hear this. If you try to stop me, if you come near me, or if you go crazy on me, I will kill you. I will shoot you dead, do you understand?’

Hedda stared at her daughter.

‘I will shoot you like a crazy rabid dog in the middle of the street and spare you the rest of your life!’ screamed Tully, panting. ‘You might think I have some bad feelings for you, but Mother, I hate you. Hate you! Now get the fuck out of my room!’

Hedda stretched out her hands and took two steps toward Tully.

Tully lifted the gun, cocked it, and before Hedda could move any further, pointed and fired a foot away from Hedda’s face. The explosion was deafening, but the bullet slipped into the wall near the door, making only a small neat hole in the Sheetrock. Tully shuddered.

Hedda stood motionless. Tully recocked the gun and said, ‘Ma. Get out of my room, because next time I won’t miss.’

Hedda did not turn around, but backed up toward the door, opened it, and staggered out.

Tully put the gun down, went over to the phone, and yanked the cord out of the wall, not giving Aunt Lena a chance to call the police. Thirty minutes later, Tully got into her not so new car and drove out onto the Kansas Turnpike.

It was night, and Tully drove and drove, heading west, with $800 in her pocket and a gun.

Everything hurt.

She suspected that something in her was broken: either her nose, or her ribs, or both. She didn’t know. And then KW AZ put out a tornado alert and Tully stopped the car.

It was unbelievably windy, particularly here, she thought, in the middle of Kansas in the middle of the Great Plains. The highway was pitch-black. The prairie must be all around me thought Tully. There were no stars, and no other cars. There was only Tully, two hundred miles west of home, and a tornado. She pulled over to the shoulder on I-70, ran down the slope, found a ditch, collapsed in it, and promptly lost consciousness.

2

When she came to, it was morning and raining. Her body ached and her wrists throbbed. She crawled up the embankment, got into her car, turned around at the next exit, and drove 150 miles east, back to Manhattan, to DeMarco & Sons. Her quest for the west had brought Tully as far as WaKeeney on the Central Plain.

In Manhattan, Robin took care of her. Tully spent forty-eight hours at Manhattan Memorial, where the doctors reset her nose for the second time in her life, bandaged up her two cracked ribs, and put a half dozen or so stitches in each of her wrists.

She stayed with Robin for two weeks, until the middle of June. Tully didn’t really want to stay with Robin, but she didn’t have much choice. He was at work most of the day, anyway. She drove around and shopped and spent some time at the library. Sometimes she went to Topeka to see Julie. Tully did not see Julie very often.

In the evening, Robin and Tully went out to dinner or to bars or movies or nightclubs. Once, Tully entered a dance competition with a handsome Kansas State dance student, and when they won, she said to him that she’d never met an Irish guy who could dance, and he told her he’d never met anyone who could dance like her. They won two hundred dollars. He gave her half and bought her a drink. Later that night, she and Robin had a ranting, jealous fight.

The following day, Tully called up the student and drove over to the off-campus house he was sharing with three other dance students. The two had sex in the afternoon. Tully left, concluding that he danced much better than he fucked.

For two weeks Tully didn’t know what to do with herself. She often just drove out onto I-70 and turned around somewhere around Salina.

Once Tully drove to Lawrence to visit Mr and Mrs Mandolini. Lynn never came back to the house on Sunset Court, but stayed with her mother until Tony could get them a place out of town. They moved to Lawrence and now lived in a one-bedroom apartment off Massachusetts Street. Tony commuted every day, continuing as assistant manager at Penney’s. Lynn Mandolini was no longer working. Tully didn’t see Mrs Mandolini. Tony said his wife was not well, and the bedroom door stayed shut. Tully did not stay long.

Before she left, Tony put his arm on her shoulder and asked, ‘Who is J. P.?’ showing her the Will Section in the Topeka High School 1979 Yearbook.

When Tully found her voice, she was going to tell him, but the look in his eyes reminded her of the look in George Wilson’s eyes in The Great Gatsby.

So Tully didn’t tell Mr Mandolini who J.P. was, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head instead.

They were silent for a moment, and then Mr Mandolini said, ‘I’m sorry, Tully. This is hard for us. But if you should ever need for anything…’

Tully smiled colorlessly at him.

When she came back to Robin’s house, she packed her milk crates and left him a note: ‘Dear R. I’ve gone back to Topeka to work for Tracy Scott. T.’

Tracy was very pleased to see Tully. She set her up in a tiny little room in the back and offered to pay her a ‘little extra’ if she helped clean up.

A little extra, thought Tully. I don’t think she has a little extra to buy her kid a toy, much less pay me. ‘Not to worry,’ said Tully.

It was a scorching summer. Kansas weather was changeable; it had something in it for everyone. But this summer, whether it poured or shined, whether there were thunderstorms or tornadoes, it was always 105 degrees.

Tracy was rarely home during the day, even though during the day she was supposed to be home. Tracy usually caught a quick breakfast and then went out ‘on errands,’ staying out longer and longer. Her boyfriend Billy the musician was sapping all her energy. Tracy got dolled up in the morning and said she’d be back by lunch but wouldn’t return until six o’clock, when she’d change her clothes while Billy waited in his van. Then she would fly out, kissing Damien good-bye.

Tully frequently took Damien to Blaisdell Pool, where she taught Damien how to swim. After the pool, they would often visit the World Famous Topeka Zoo or ride on the carousel. Every Sunday, Tully went to St Mark’s with Damien. A few times on Sundays, after going to church, Tully, Robin, and Damien would go to Lake Shawnee. Sometimes on Saturdays, Tully would drive to Manhattan with Damien to watch Robin play soccer.

Tully rarely saw Julie.

‘Tully, why don’t you come around no more?’ asked Angela Martinez one afternoon. ‘My daughter misses you,’ Angela added as Julie looked down at her barbecued hot dog.

‘I’m very busy, Mrs Martinez,’ Tully said, patting Damien on the head. ‘It’s not so easy taking care of a little child.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Angela. ‘I have five of them.’

‘Mom, I’m not your little child,’ Julie said sullenly.

‘Till the day I die you will be my baby,’ avowed Angela.

When Tully left with Damien that day, she felt as if she would be really happy not seeing Angela or Julie again till the day she died.

In July, Tully became aware of a pattern in Tracy Scott’s trailer that displeased her. Tracy would leave with her man Billy about seven in the evening and not get in until late the following morning.

‘Tracy,’ Tully said one day. ‘I thought our agreement was for five or six nights a week.’

‘Yeah, and?’

‘Well, it’s more like seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. At first you were “running errands” early in the morning, but now you sleep for six hours and are away the other eighteen.’

Tracy Scott was defensive. ‘I’m paying you, right?’ she said rudely. ‘What do you want, a raise?’

‘No, Tracy, I don’t want a fucking raise,’ said Tully. ‘Your little boy misses you. You are never with him. And no, you are not paying me to work around the clock.’

Tracy didn’t get it. ‘He is well taken care of, ain’t he? He’s got clothes and toys and food. And he loves you – ’

‘No,’ Tully interrupted. ‘He likes me. He loves you.’

‘Look, Tully,’ said Tracy intensely. ‘I’m trying to work out my life, you know what I mean? If I work out my life, it’ll be good for me and it’ll be good for Damien. If Billy comes to live with us, it’ll be good for everybody. I mean, where is Damien’s dad? I don’t fucking know. And I don’t give a good goddamn. I don’t want that bastard back. But I do want Billy. What’s the big deal? It ain’t like I don’t come back every day. What’s the big deal, Tully? It ain’t like you got anything else to do.’

Tully sat outside on the trailer steps and watched Damien dig a hole in the ground with his little shovel.

It ain’t like I got anything else to do, thought Tully. Nothing else to do. Nothing at all. Well, she is certainly right. Nothing else to do but look after her kid, her unkempt, ill-behaved kid, who bites his nails and throws things and spits and curses. I’ll look up little Damien in the State Correctional Facility for Youths in about a decade. Why not? I’ll have nothing else to do. Nothing at all. No money, no job, no home. That woman pays me just enough to entertain and feed her boy. I live in a trailer with a child who’s not my own. I keep house in a trailer. My God, what’s happened? What has happened?

In mid-July, Tully and Damien waited all night for Tracy and her man to come home, but they did not come. Not that day, nor the next. Little Damien was cranky and cried a lot. Tully was plenty cranky herself. All of a sudden, things began to feel totally out of control to her. Here it was July, five weeks in the trailer, five weeks of more and more responsibility with a three-year-old, and now Tracy was not even coming home. Tully woke up with the boy and spent all day with the boy and went to sleep with the boy and when she woke up the next day, she was still alone and still with the boy.

Finally Tracy Scott and Billy came back. Tracy hugged her son, apologizing profusely. ‘I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry, baby, Mama had to go with Billy to Oklahoma, and do you know where Oklahoma is? It’s so far away.’ Tully, who heard this, wondered if Tracy herself knew where Oklahoma was. She doubted it. Tattoo-covered Billy just stood there and smoked.