I have no plans beyond but to keep feeding them. Before I left I handed them a fistful of lollies, a box of crayons, and some paper. I told Nance I’d be back tomorrow.
She said: What about me?
I said: What about you?
She said: Don’t I get any lollies? Don’t I get anything?
She sounded no older than her children.
I threw one at her.
Mazie’s Diary, May 17, 1918
They were spread out all over the floor coloring when I got there. Marie had drawn a circle with swirling rays surrounding it. I asked her what it was.
She said: It’s the sun. It’s the outside.
I asked Rufus what he was drawing and he told me it was a forest of lollies.
I’d steal them if I could. I would.
Mazie’s Diary, May 18, 1918
I only had a few moments before work today. I was thinking I’d show up and everything would be better, that some magic would have healed Nance. But I was a fool of course. A sick person doesn’t get better overnight.
The door was locked when I got there and I had to bang on it for a while. Finally Nance pushed it open. The room smelled of retch. She crawled on her knees back to the corner where she had made a nest of blankets. Her children were curled up with her.
I asked her how I could help. I said I’d call a doctor.
She said: There’s no doctor’s going to help me. I’m just going to feel this way for a while until I don’t anymore.
I said: Maybe I should take them home with me. Just so they’ll be safe.
She said: You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Taking my babies away from me.
I said: I only meant to make it easier. I’m here every day trying to help you, missy. You don’t want my help, fine. But you should be looking after those children of yours. They didn’t do a thing wrong. They don’t deserve this.
Christ, maybe I was yelling too loud, I don’t know.
I said: You asked me for help, remember?
She said: Well now we don’t want it.
She struggled her way to standing. Her legs were quivering but still she stood.
She said: You don’t come in here and tell me how to live my life. You don’t tell me how to love my children.
I said: Nance, I didn’t say you didn’t love them.
I was trying to be softer with her. I didn’t want her to throw me out.
She said: You think I don’t know what you think of me? I know the truth.
Marie started crying, and then Rufus did too.
I said: You’re just sick right now. You’re not thinking straight. I’m here to help.
Nance pulled those babies tight. It was the strongest I’d seen her.
She said: Say good-bye to Miss Mazie. Saint Mazie’s more like it. Thinks she’s better than all of us.
I said: I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring you more milk.
She said: We don’t want it.
I said: I’m coming anyway.
She said: See what I care. I don’t have to open the door for nobody.
I’ll throttle her with my own two hands if she hurts those babies.
Mazie’s Diary, May 19, 1918
I went early this morning to Nance’s. The alley outside their front door was quiet except for the strays, the rats, and the cats, scuttling, tussling. The door was shut tight. I pressed my face up against it. It was early and quiet. I was sure I could hear Marie crying inside. I had milk with me, and lollies, too.
I started pounding on the door.
I said: I’ll leave the milk outside. You don’t have to speak to me, only please take the milk.
I hid around the corner to see if Nance would open the door. Finally two enormous stray cats, spotted gray and filthy, knocked over the jug and took to lapping it. Then cat after cat came out of every corner of the alley, and the milk was gone. Nance had never opened the door.
I took it upon myself to do a little nosing around today — as best I could from that cage. I talked to a beat cop, Officer Walters. He’s stopped by a few times to share a nip from the flask, and to flirt. He’s an old dog. His hair’s turning gray and he’s got a big belly. I’d worry he’d crush me if I let him hold me. But he’s good for a laugh and he’s got a nice set of thick lips on him, so all right, he can have a nip. He tells me to call him Mack but I never do.
I asked him if he knew about Nance. He knew Nance, oh yes he did.
He said: Sorry to tell you this, Mazie, but if she wants to keep her door locked she’s entitled to it.
I said: But those children are living in darkness all day I’m telling you. And she’s not feeding them right. Can’t you just go knock on her door?
It occurred to me that his breath was thicker with liquor than mine.
He said: I think we know how to handle this. It’s our jobs to know.
I said: Well then I know how to handle you.
I snatched the flask from his hand.
I said: Go on, get out of here. I’ll find someone else to help me. What are we paying our taxes for?
I yelled and yelled, but there was not a hint of guilt in his step. Just another man in a uniform, just another man with a swagger.
All day I asked those who came to my cage their opinions on the matter. Everyone said the same thing: It’s her door. I reminded them about the children but it didn’t matter. All you can do is knock, they told me.
A rule-breaker on my side is what I need.
Mazie’s Diary, May 20, 1918
Sister Tee! Sister Tee.
Mazie’s Diary, May 21, 1918
I tracked Tee down last night. I saw one of the other Theresas on the street. Sister Terry, this one was called. She was older, with a thin gray mustache. I suppose they don’t give a care what they look like when they’re married to Jesus. I called her over and told her I’d give her free tickets for a week if she’d go find me Sister Tee. She said I didn’t need to bribe her, and that salvation was right around the corner and it was always free, no matter what. She rushed off, her habit in ripples. Ten minutes later, there was my Sister Tee, loose strands of golden hair coming out of her wimple. I didn’t even know I had missed her until I saw her again, and I think she felt the same. She smiled like she knew me well. Maybe she already does.
I said: I know I’m technically a sinner and all. But I could use a little help.
She said: God has love for everyone.
I told Sister Tee everything, ending with the part about the big red door being locked. I told her Nance no longer trusted me, that she’d never open the door for me again. The whole time her eyes were set tight, her face too. I told her I couldn’t stop wondering what was happening in there. Locked behind the door. At last, Sister Tee cried out in some kind of pain. I put my hand on hers, I asked her if she was all right.
She said: I’ve been grinding my teeth lately. I used to do it at night, and now I’ve started doing it during the day. When things are bad. When I hear a sad story. A story of ungodliness.
I said: A story of unfairness.
She said: A story of injustice.
I said: A story of inhumanity.
Her eyes were wet with inspiration. The air between us churned into something new.
She said: We must save those children.
Tomorrow, she promised, she would return with news.
Mazie’s Diary, May 22, 1918
Not a peep.
I might die from the waiting. Stuck in a cage, waiting.
After dinner Rosie was teasing Jeanie about Ethan, and Jeanie didn’t even blush.
I wonder if he’ll propose someday. An engagement. Rosie would be beside herself. Then it’d be just me left for her to worry about.