Olivia, Mourning (36 page)

“Do you have yucca soap?” Olivia couldn’t help asking.

“Something much better. And I’ll see what I can do with those nails.” Michelle gently took Olivia by the arm and led her toward the back of the shop. “But before we make your hair all clean and shiny . . .” she lowered her voice and leaned over, whispering in Olivia’s ear, “I have something even better for you. Something that will make you feel brand new, more than a silly dress. You should let my girl Sarah May give you a good body rub. She’s just next door and could come right over, if you want.”

Olivia looked at her blankly, having no idea what she was talking about.

“She hardly charges anything. Your hair, nails, the body rub, everything, together with the dress, would only come to four bits.”

Feeling as if she were entering a foreign country, Olivia allowed herself to be led into a windowless room containing only a waist-high bed. Michelle handed her what looked like a chemise.

“Just hang your clothes on those hooks there.” Michelle nodded at the wall. “And put this on.”

Olivia took the chemise and held it up. “It’s open down the front,” she said, a scowl coming over her features. “It doesn’t even have any buttons.”

“Actually, it’s open down the back. How else can she rub your back?”

“I’m sorry, but I have to be going.” Olivia let the garment fall to the bed and turned to leave.
Is this woman crazy?

“Wait. Please.” Michelle came after her. “I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. Please, don’t go.”

Olivia turned to face her.

“I’m sorry.” Michelle went on. “You’re so young. I should have explained, should have guessed it might frighten you, a complete stranger telling you to take off your clothes, here in a store.” She took a step forward and put her hand lightly on Olivia’s arm. “I’ll just wash your hair if that’s all you want, but there’s nothing for you to be frightened of. I promise. No one but Sarah May will come in and there’s a bolt on the door, so if you want, you can lock it from the inside.”

Olivia didn’t move or speak.

“You really should try it. I promise you’ll be glad you did. You look so … so worn out. Like a big, bad wolf could blow you right over, with just one huff. Wouldn’t need a single puff.”

Olivia couldn’t help smiling.

“Sara May does a wonderful job. You wouldn’t believe it looking at her, she’s so tiny and all. But that girl has hands on her like a vise. And she knows how to use them. I let her work on me every week.”

Olivia continued to stare at the floor and Michelle lowered her head, trying to peek into Olivia’s face. “You look so sad and exhausted. I think it’s just what you need.”

Olivia was amazed to find herself submitting to this woman and allowing herself to be led away.

“Just hang your dress up and put that thing on,” Michelle said, smiling as she picked a towel from a shelf. “Lie on your stomach. If you’re shy about Sarah May seeing your drawers, you can cover your behind with this.” She tossed the towel onto the bed. “I’ll go get her. Just give a holler when you’re ready for her to come in.”

Olivia still felt uneasy, but was too intrigued not to obey. She bolted the door before she undressed, hung her dress, apron, and chemise on the hooks, and removed her moneybag and slipped it under the mattress. She waited until she heard Michelle return before unbolting the door.

“All right, I’m ready,” she called out, once she was settled on the bed.

She craned her neck to see a thin young woman about her age come in and slide the bolt shut again.

“Hullo, Miss Killion, I’m Sarah May.”

“Hullo.”

“I’m gonna use oil,” Sarah May said, setting a large brown bottle on the shelf, “but don’t worry none, I’ll towel it off before you get dressed. And I’ll get oil in your hair when I massage your scalp, but Mademoiselle is gonna give you a nice shampoo, so don’t worry you none about that neither. You just relax.”

It was unsettling for Olivia to feel a stranger’s touch, but she did not recoil when Sarah May began working on her neck and shoulders. Olivia could feel her skin greedily sucking up the oil and was indeed amazed by the strength of the girl’s hands. Olivia’s surrender was soon complete and Sarah May pummeled the knots out of her aching body. When the girl stepped away from the bed Olivia thought she had finished and was about to ask if she could pay her double to do the whole thing over again.

But Sara May spoke first. “I’m gonna turn to face the door now, so you can get rolled over onto your back. Here’s another towel to cover yourself up top.”

When Olivia said she was ready Sarah May turned around and made a show of carefully arranging the two towels Olivia had draped over her chest and hips. Then she moved to the head of the bed to slowly massage Olivia’s face, scalp, neck, and shoulders. She worked on both arms and hands, giving each finger a little tug. Olivia’s legs, feet, and toes received similar treatment, with Sarah May artfully avoiding the blisters.

Then she was finished and used another towel to absorb the excess oil. “I’ll go get you a robe for while you’re getting your hair washed.”

“That was wonderful,” Olivia said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Sarah May smiled and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Olivia said, “Can you hand me my apron from over there?”

The girl did so and Olivia rose up on one elbow to fish a nickel from the pocket and hold it out to Sarah May.

“Oh no,” Sarah May said. “Miss Michelle pays me. I ain’t allowed to take no tips. I’ll be back in a lick with the robe.”

Olivia put on the fluffy pink robe and peeked out to find Michelle waiting in the tiny corridor.

“See? All shiny and new. I could tell you’s a gal what’ll know how to appreciate it.” Michelle smiled and began walking. “Come, back here.”

In another tiny room was a wooden chair with a back that sloped toward a basin. Olivia settled into it and Michelle dipped cups of water from a large bucket to pour over her hair.

“Are there shops like this in all cities?” Olivia asked while Michelle gently massaged something that smelled of flowers into her hair.

“Couldn’t say. Certainly hope so. Every woman needs some pampering from time to time.”

“You are very kind,” Olivia said.

Michelle rinsed Olivia’s hair, motioned for her to sit up, and wrapped a towel around her head. Then she nodded at another wooden chair in front of a long, narrow looking-glass. Olivia sat and Michelle stood behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Olivia said. “I really was quite worn out. I feel so much better now.”

Michelle smiled and began brushing Olivia’s hair, just like her mother used to. That memory brought tears and Olivia swiped a finger under her eye, hoping Michelle hadn’t noticed.

“There, there,” Michelle said, leaning down to give Olivia’s shoulders a hug. “Listen, Hon, I don’t know who done what to hurt you so bad, but whatever it was, the world is gonna go on spinning, for you too. I promise you that. Don’t stop for no one’s sorrows.” She pulled a chair next to Olivia’s and made her voice cheerful as she said, “Let’s take care of them hands while your hair is drying.” She tsk-tsked when she began trimming the jagged nails.

Michelle hummed as she finished the manicure and then twisted Olivia’s still-damp hair into an elaborate arrangement. Olivia was grateful for not being required to carry on a conversation.

“See how beautiful you are?” Michelle leaned down and squeezed Olivia’s shoulders again, watching her in the mirror. “I think you’re ready to face the world now. I’ll go get that dress for you.”

Olivia dressed slowly, wondering what she should do next. When she went out to the shop and handed the four bits to Michelle, Michelle slipped the money into her pocket and then took Olivia’s hand.

“Listen,” she said softly. “I can see whatever happened to you was bad, but you’re going to be all right. You’re a strong girl. You have wonderful eyes. I don’t mean just pretty. I mean the eyes of a good human being. One who deserves good things.”

Olivia might have thrown herself into Michelle’s embrace, but didn’t. She felt incapable of responding and stood speechless. All she could manage was an ineffectual thank you for everything.

“Don’t go yet.” Michelle smiled. She picked up a straw hat trimmed with red flowers, green leaves, and a blue ribbon and plunked it on Olivia’s head.

“A present from me,” she said. “To go with your new dress.”

Olivia managed a smile. Noticing some shelves at the back of the shop, she asked, “Do you sell men’s things?”

“Sure do.”

“I’d like a pair of trousers and a shirt, please.”

“How big is the fellow?”

“They’re for me. I might want to go for a ride tomorrow and I prefer not to wear a dress.”

Michelle’s face broke into a wide smile. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Sure I can fix you up. Probably need boys’ sizes, but I got them.”

Olivia didn’t want to bother trying the clothes on and just held them up. Then she noticed a stack of men’s caps on a shelf. She removed the straw bonnet and tried a beige flat cap. “I’ll take this too.” She carried it and the trousers and shirt to the counter.

Michelle wrapped them in newsprint, with Olivia’s old dress, and Olivia paid the difference.

“You’ve been so kind to me. I really don’t know how to thank you.”

Michelle smiled. “Just take care of yourself. Time will come, some other woman’s gonna need you to be kind to her.”

Out on the street Olivia was once again anonymous, but no longer took comfort in it. How quickly she had grown accustomed to Michelle’s warmth. How wintry the world felt without it. Like stepping away from a campfire, into endless cold and dark.

She walked aimlessly for a long while. Her feet hurt terribly, but she didn’t feel like going back to the hotel. Then a shop selling beaded moccasins caught her eye and she went in to try on a pair. They were soft and gentle to her throbbing feet.

“I’ll take them,” she said to the clerk, nodding at her feet. “And I’m going to keep them on. You can wrap my shoes up.” He raised an eyebrow, but wordlessly took her money and handed her the package.

Out on the street she was drawn toward the river, where she stood watching the boats. There were not as many as on the day she’d arrived with Mourning on the
Windsong
, but it was still an impressive show. She craned her neck, searching in vain for one of the French Voyageurs. Every other type of craft bobbed in the water and the shouts of the stevedores working on Merchants’ Wharf reached her ears. She wondered if they felt lucky to be living in this young, exciting city.

She seated herself on a large rock near the water and considered making Detroit her home. Why not? Her farm wasn’t far way. She could let it to a tenant farmer and use the money to start some kind of business. Plenty of women had their own businesses, didn’t they? Look at Michelle. She remembered her first glimpse of the city as they’d rounded the last bend in the river, the sunlight glinting off tin roofs. The feeling that this was where she was supposed to be. But that feeling was gone. She would never belong anywhere. Anyway, what did she know about running a business?

She rose and began walking again. Before long she saw an older woman seated on a bench in a park and sat down next to her.

“Hullo,” Olivia said. “I was wondering if you might know if there are any teaching positions available here in Detroit.”

“Humph. Don’t no woman in her right mind want to be no school teacher in this town.” The woman waved the question away in obvious disgust. “My daughter was one. Lost her job last year when they closed the public schools.”

“There are no schools in a big city like Detroit?” Olivia asked.

“Oh there’s schools all right, you got the money to fork over for ’em. They’re trying to get some kind of tax passed, but for now the great guns are saying they only got enough to open the public schools for four months – and that’s only if the pigeon teachers agree to work for $6 a month.”

“Oh.” Olivia thanked her and rose. Nothing in life was simple. She was back where she had begun. A woman incapable of supporting herself.

She turned and walked to the livery, looking forward to greeting Dixby and Dougan, but they were gone. The owner of the livery proudly informed her that he had sold them just an hour ago, and for a good price – $35. The sadness that tugged at her made her feel ridiculous – how pathetic was a person who missed a pair of cows? The man counted out the money and said he also had a buyer for the wagon and the rest of her possessions. A Dutch man. He would be by later to see if she’d agreed to his price. Olivia nodded, barely listening to him explain why she should accept the offer.

“That will be fine,” she said. “I’ll come back tomorrow to settle up.” At the door she turned back. “Do you think you could save me the trip by letting me have the money now?” she asked. The price was low enough that she was not surprised when he readily agreed.

So that was that. There was nothing else for her to do here. No reason to stay in a city where she had not a single friend. Olivia was grateful to Michelle for the warmth and generosity she had shown. They had eased some of the pain. But they had also made her feel like an object of pity. Was her neediness so obvious? On her way back to the hotel she concentrated on trying to look like a normal person, but it was so hard to smile.