“She is not a baby, you know,” she said disgustedly.
Mamma pushed Fanny into a chair and told her to stay put, and ordered me to make sandwiches. I made bologna sandwiches and put them on the table. I sat next to Aunt Fanny and pushed a sandwich at her, but she continued to stare into space. Mamma looked angry, and Brian shook his head.
“I cannot believe how retarded she is,” Mamma scoffed. “She has been like this since we got on the plane; she hasn’t said one word to me since I met her.”
Samantha met my eyes across the table. I gave a smirk as she rolled her eyes and mouthed, “I wonder why?”
“Well,” Brian said authoritatively. “Tomorrow, I want her in Amish clothes. Misty, that is your job. I do not want her out of this house until she is properly clothed.”
After the sandwiches, Brian ordered everyone to bed. I showed Aunt Fanny the outhouse and told her that if she needed to use it I would go with her. After we all climbed into our sleeping quarters, Samantha secured the doors while I tried to get Aunt Fanny to change her clothes and lie down; she vehemently refused. Mamma yelled up to see if Fanny was in bed yet. Samantha yelled back that we were all in bed, and I blew out the candle. Aunt Fanny sat on the bed in the chilly room, still wearing her green summer dress, staring off into space.
I awoke in the middle of the night to the ringing of cowbells and a crashing sound, followed by a loud thud. I lit the candle, and saw Brian catching Aunt Fanny by the back of the dress as she was starting down the stairs. The makeshift doors, made out of thin plywood, were crushed. It looked like Aunt Fanny had pushed on them, and when they did not move, she fell over on them. I gasped as I saw Mamma reach for the metal fly swatter next to her bed, and I jumped over the broken doors to stand by Fanny who had lost her blank stare and now looked terrified. I sank to my knees and covered my ears as Aunt Fanny screamed in terror and pain. When Mamma had finished beating her, she dragged her by the ear and slammed her down onto her mattress.
“Now don’t you move from here or you will get more of this,” Mamma said as she waved the swatter in Fanny’s face.
Everyone went back to bed, and Samantha and I piled the plywood in the middle of the room. I was crying on the inside for Aunt Fanny. I did not understand what was wrong with her, but it was apparent that she was unable to comprehend what was happening.
The next morning after breakfast, I measured Fanny for her clothes. This would be difficult because of her wide girth and small shoulders. While measuring her, I started to notice some very strange behavior from her. At first, I thought she was speaking to me; I happily asked what she had said since she had been silent since her arrival. But much to my confusion, she was talking to something in the corner of the room. I looked in the corner but saw no one, and I looked back at her wide-eyed, finally realizing what her diagnosis entailed. When I saw Samantha outside, I whispered to her about the puzzling behavior. She shrugged and stated, “I knew she had to be a loony to end up here, Misty. Why else do you think she would be here?”
That was our full understanding of the situation since we had no means of gaining any knowledge about Fanny’s condition. That day, Fanny switched between vacant stares and talking to an unseen person while dancing around the room. It was hard to measure her for the long dress and apron since she was either getting tangled in the fabric or standing still, refusing to help in any way. A couple of times, I accidentally stuck Fanny with sewing pins and felt awful about it. I immediately applied pressure and told her I was sorry, only to realize that she had not even noticed and was intent on talking to someone over my shoulder.
Mamma was reading a book as usual. I tried to make light of the situation and pretended that Fanny was just being funny. Later in the day, Mamma began screaming. I had been so busy, I had forgotten to make bread. After beating me with the fly swatter, she turned to Fanny.
“I am tired of your bull****. You don’t have schizophrenia or whatever it is, and you are not getting any of those damned pills so you can pretend you are sick or something. You better just snap out of it right now, you hear me?” She started beating Aunt Fanny all over her body and laughing. “That’s right; we’ll get the devil beat out of you.”
At first Fanny kept dancing around and jabbering to the unknown person. When she began to understand what was happening, she ran with Mamma chasing her. I ran after the two, but am ashamed to say that after a while, I just stood still. I did not know if my intervening would help or harm.
Mamma threw Fanny against the side of the house, and threatened her: if she did not obey, she could expect more of the same. She then dragged Fanny into the house and told her to stand still while I put clean clothes on her. She was sobbing like a child; I gave Mamma the angriest looks I could muster.
“What are you looking at?” Mamma barked. “She is standing still, isn’t she?”
Not answering, I tied the white cap on Fanny’s head. I looked down into her giant blue eyes and saw a sense of clarity as if she had suddenly jumped back into her body. Our eyes met, and I smiled at her. She looked at me as if begging for help. My eyes were full of tears and I felt helpless.
After dressing Aunt Fanny, I hugged her and told her she looked pretty in her new clothes. She shook her head and began pulling them off.
“No, no,” I said, trying to stop her for fear of what would happen. Mamma slapped Fanny a few times with the fly swatter, and she stopped undressing. I could tell she was confused about the strange clothes she was wearing.
So life began for Aunt Fanny on the mountain. It took Mamma many beatings to get Aunt Fanny to keep her Amish clothes on. Eventually Fanny seemed to understand that if she did not wear them, pain would follow. And Mamma soon realized that the ugly welts now covering Fanny’s body could cause them trouble if anyone saw them, so she began beating Fanny under her dress, often targeting her large breasts. Mamma would say that Fanny did not need her breasts anyway. Fanny would cry and scream; I would stand shaking and cover my ears with my hands. To this day, the memories of Aunt Fanny’s high-pitched screams haunt me.
Fanny helped with work every day. One day, she was with Samantha and the next day she spent with me. Although Samantha and I both tried to shield her from punishment, if Fanny was caught dancing around or not working, she was punished for not obeying.
When we ate, Mamma placed the fly swatter on the table. I always sat next to or across from Fanny and whenever she started drifting off, I would nudge her under the table. Sometimes, I even pinched her hard to get her to eat. If I did not, the fly swatter would fly across the room, aimed directly at her already sore breasts. My efforts to protect her rarely worked, though.
The tears I feel today
I’ll wait to shed tomorrow.
Though I’ll not sleep this night
Nor find surcease from sorrow.
My eyes must keep their sight:
I dare not be tear-blinded.
I must be free to talk
Not choked with grief, clear-minded.
My mouth cannot betray
The anguish that I know.
Yes, I’ll keep my tears till later:
But my grief will never go.
—Anne McCaffrey, Dragonsinger
The last time Brian had seen his father, he had let slip the name of the town we were moving to. He made Grandpa promise not to tell anyone, but that summer the police showed up at the house with a letter from Aunty Laura. The letter told of how Brian’s father had died of colon cancer and how he had begged to see his son