19
OCTOBER 1940 TO OCTOBER 1942
Mrs. Clark is a former high school social studies teacher, mother to two grown sons, and the widow of a retired mailman who died too soon. When she found herself single and without purpose at fifty-two, she moved from Oakland back to her family home in Petaluma, which she had inherited the year before her husband’s passing. She applied to have her six-bedroom house made into a licensed group home so that she could have meaning again to her days, and easily met the requirements.
“I ran a tight ship with my boys, and I run a tight ship here at this group home,” she tells me as we meet in her living room. “But it’s a ship where everyone aboard can feel safe. I don’t care about any mistakes you might have made or that were made against you, and I don’t count those mistakes as defining who you are. I know life can be unfair. I know things can happen to you that you don’t deserve. I also know there might be decisions you made in the past that you’d like to undo and can’t. But here in this house, we look to tomorrow, not yesterday. Does that sound like something you can agree to?”
I nod. I think I’m going to like Mrs. Clark. I like her widesmile, and her queenly bearing despite the simple clothes she’s wearing. I like how she doesn’t want to peel back any layers from my earlier life as the orphaned daughter of a vinedresser or the Calverts’ irresponsible ward or the young woman who got locked up in an institution where they sterilize flawed people.
“That’s all I want, Mrs. Clark,” I say. “I want to move forward. I’m never going back to where I was or who I was.”
The woman smiles. “Then I think we will get along just fine, you and me.”
Mrs. Grissom, seated next to me on the sofa, stands up. “I’ll be off and let you settle in, Rosie. I’ll stop by in a couple weeks to see how you’re coming along.” She turns to Mrs. Clark. “And you’re all set with getting her to the job on Monday?”
“As soon as the other girls are off for school, we’ll be off, too. It’s only a short walk. I’ll make sure she gets there on time.”
The two women go to the front door. As Mrs. Grissom steps over the threshold, she turns and looks past Mrs. Clark to me. She gives me a nod that probably means,You be good, now.
Mrs. Clark closes the door and retraces her steps to where I sit surrounded by several shopping bags. Mrs. Grissom bought me new underwear and socks, pajamas, a sweater, two pairs of slacks, three button-down shirts, two more dresses, and a few toiletry items. The new shoes she bought are already on my feet.
Mrs. Clark retakes her chair opposite me. “Is there anything you’d like me to know now that it’s just you and me?”
Surely Mrs. Grissom has told this woman how I wound up in the custody of the state: the death of my parents, the indiscretions that left me pregnant at seventeen, and maybe even the hallucinations I claim to have and which the state hospital addressed through more than a year of therapy sessions. I like Mrs. Clark, but I do not yet trust her. I shake my head.
“Do you have any questions about the rules of the house, then?” Mrs. Clark has already told me about her expectations forher residents. Everyone pitches in with the chores and kitchen duty. Each girl does her own laundry. There is to be no fighting, no male callers, no vandalism to the property, no sneaking out at night, no alcohol in the house, and no travel—not even on foot— to anywhere except to work and home again. Shopping trips and excursions to the library or the park or the river will be group events scheduled by Mrs. Clark.
“Are there ever any day trips?” I ask. “Like to San Francisco. Or... or other cities?”
“You have reasons to go to the city?” Mrs. Clark’s tone is tinged with suspicion.
“No. Just wondering.”
Mrs. Clark regards me for a moment. “We don’t take day trips like that. If we go anywhere together, it’s close by.”
I can’t recall how far away San Jose is from Petaluma. Seventy miles? Eighty? A hundred? It doesn’t really matter. It’s surely an impossible distance. I will have to wait—quite possibly two years—to see if Truman’s money is still waiting for me.
“Okay,” I say, as if Mrs. Clark’s answer is of no consequence at all.
“Well, let’s head upstairs with your things and get you settled in,” she says. “And then I’ll take you into the common room to meet the other girls. They’re waiting for us.”
Mrs. Clark picks up two of the shopping bags and I grab the third. I follow her to the ample staircase to the right of the living room. The bags make crinkling noises—blue and white—as they rub against each other. I am embarrassed by the sound.
“I suppose this is the first time a girl has arrived here with her things in paper bags,” I say.
“On the contrary,” Mrs. Clark replies easily. “Some girls arrive here with nothing at all.”
We continue on to the third floor, and Mrs. Clark leads me tothe room farthest from the stairs but which appears to be the largest room on this level.
“You’re my oldest right now, and I typically reserve this room for girls who are finished with school. It’s a nice room. It was actually mine when I was your age.”
The room runs the width of the third floor but has slanted ceilings on either side, so it is both a large room and cozy and close, too. There is a bed with a quilted coverlet, a dresser, a writing desk and chair, and a gloriously full bookcase with some titles that I can see at a glance.Heidi. Little Women. Captains Courageous.A braided rug lies on the floor, and paisley curtains hang on the dormer windows.
“There isn’t a full bath on the third floor, just a commode and small sink at the end of the hall, but there is a large bathroom on the second floor and it’s right by the stairs. There’s another full bath on the first floor. I had it put in. It’s off the kitchen. I leave it to you girls to work out how you’ll take turns with the two tubs. So far, there’s only been one tussle over it.”
I look at her. A fight over the tub? “Really?”
Mrs. Clark smiles. “Those two aren’t here anymore. They just liked to spar. They fought about everything. I think that was the only way those two girls knew how to express how afraid they were of all the things in life they could not control.”
