Zathima of Harbenstadt
Mama never did like me much. Some will tell you that every child is a blessing from above, but when you make your dinner as a bone picker a pregnancy is pretty much your own body betraying you. It slows you down so you can’t work as hard and then demands more food that you can’t earn. You are already hungry and your body steals food from your stomach for this “blessing”. I would have hated me too.
I was bone picking with Mama since before I could walk, or maybe she was just hoping I would wander off. I don’t remember the day I fell into the canal works. I just remember my leg being all stiff and crooked and when I asked Mama what happened she would just yell at me to watch my step cuz next time it would be my head that gets broke. I thought Mama broke it until Uncle Rich told me that I fell into the canal when Mama was picking and a stray dog pulled me out. When I asked what happened to the dog Uncle Rich said that dog musta been a Holy Paladin cus he saved me and fed all of us for three days. Then he would laugh. I didn’t understand what was so funny.
I used to like Uncle Rich. He wasn’t really my uncle and he damn sure wasn’t rich, but he always had those kind of strange jokes floating around. Mama would say he was stupid for sayin stuff that regular folk couldn’t understand but he said that was what made it so much fun for him. He liked ta call the workin girls “Sister” and the brothel thugs “Revrund”. That joke got him a broken nose once, and Mama would yell at him and ask if it was worth it but he would say “Every damn time I look in the mirror it gets funnier.” Uncle Rich was a strange one.
I may not remember breaking my leg, but I remember when I left home well enough. I was about nine. It’s hard to say exactly on account of Mama never telling me my birthday. I had been having more and more trouble with the canal boys. I didn’t understand what they were after. They used to call me Hopper on account of my bum leg, but then they started saying it different, with like a huskier voice to it. They would say they wanted to hop on me and it would make me cry but I didn’t know why.
I asked Uncle Rich what to do and he said it was my fault for getting too pretty too quick. He said I aughta “hide that light baby Z, afore one o them tries ta steal it from ya.” Then he gave me a rabbit skinner and told me to cut whatever sticks out the furthest. He also told me to get some heavy breeches with complicated laces.
I went to sleep that night expecting everything was going to get better.
I woke up around mid-night to a terrible screaming match. Mama and Uncle Rich used to tussle all the time but this was worse than I seen before. Uncle Rich was fending off a storm tonight. Mama was throwin everything she could get her hands on, screaming about how Uncle Rich was off with some whore or another. I had never seen Mama this mad tho. This musta been more than just a smile he gave her.
Mama hurled a stool at him screaming “I saw you getting on that slut! I saw you put your lips on her forehead! You dirty chickenfucker!”
Instinctively I touched my own forehead. Was it moist? They were dancing at the table but Uncle Rich was doin it wrong. He wasn’t running, he was getting in the way. I yelled at Uncle Rich to run, but he looked at me with desperate fear in his eyes.
“Junebug you grab your sack and you run! She means to end you!”
When Uncle Rich looked away, Mama came running at me and I saw she had her long boning knife out. I screamed and scooted my way into the corner. Why would Mama be mad at me, I didn’t do anything.
Uncle Rich grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back from me and I saw the look in Mama’s eyes. That was evil in there, she didn’t even see her little girl anymore. Uncle Rich had her off the ground and she was swinging at me with everything she had. The boning knife flashed so close to my face that I could smell the fish guts on it. Her legs were kicking at me. She wasn’t my Mama no more.
I didn’t waste any time. I grabbed my sack that held my whole world inside and I scampered on all fours toward the door. Uncle Rich wasn’t a huge fella, he wouldn’t hold Mama back for long. I saw Mama shoving the blade over her shoulder at him, gouging his face but he still held on, his sad eyes pleading for me to hurry. I saw the knife go into his neck but he still held on. I found my feet and ran. I didn’t look back no more.
