Sabina’s Fireflies
A story about domestic abuse and escape
She didn’t miss her dead husband. But things were worse now. Her sons were just as cruel to her as their father had been, and there were three of them wearing her down. All grown men, she thought, acting like that. She scrubbed the kitchen table, knowing she had tried to raise them right. But she hadn’t been able to compete with her Joe’s vicious nature and the way her boys had taken to it.
Sabina sighed, taking her time to get the table clean. The old wooden surface was crusted with dried ketchup and gravy and whatever else had dripped off their plates. They are slobs, she thought resentfully, scraping at stubborn globs. She loved the table. It had been her mother’s. She didn’t have much, but she had this.
Sabina felt trapped, her days spent picking up after the filth of her boys. They wouldn’t let her work. Not that she knew how to find a job. They only had one old car and it often sat in the front yard, nearly out of gas. But she knew, if she could work, she could eventually get away and escape her misery. She dreamed about escaping every single day. It kept her going. She didn’t have much, but she had this. A table and a dream. And one day, she would use that old Buick to get away.
Sabina heard the front door slam. She shuddered at the sound, wondering which one of her sons had come home. But as she heard his voice, she knew it was Devon, her oldest. He was twenty-eight years old and still living at home. He worked occasionally in construction, employed as often as not. She looked up as he entered the kitchen.
Devon sniffed the air. “You ain’t got dinner cooking,” he said, his tone ugly. “I told you to have dinner ready when I got home.”
Sabina stood slowly. “If you boys don’t give me money to shop or bring groceries home, I got nothing to cook. But I can make you a can of soup.”
Devon heatedly stepped to his mother and slapped her head. “I don’t want soup, I want meat. Meat! You understand me?”
Sabina stood her ground, absorbing the blow, her ears ringing. She was used to this. “Then bring me home some meat, Devon. I don’t got no magic wand.”
Devon huffed angrily, and shoved the table aside. “You don’t got no magic wand?” he mocked. He slapped her head again. “I’m over your complaining, Ma! Make me what you got and be quick about it!” He abruptly left the kitchen to go to the living room. He turned on the TV loud; he didn’t want to hear her crying.
Sabina felt the tears on her cheeks. That last blow had been hard and it hurt. She tried not to sob as she opened her last can of tomato soup and worked to prepare it on the stove top. It would be made just with water. She had no fresh milk. She opened the cabinet and found some crackers she could serve with the soup. She dreaded the return of her other two sons. It was their fault there was no food in the house, but they never saw it that way. When they came home tonight, they would come home to no dinner. Devon was eating the last of it.
Sabina stirred the soup, wiping her eyes with her apron. She was hungry too, but she didn’t dare eat any of the soup. She was no stranger to going to bed hungry. Since Joe had died four months ago, she had lost twenty pounds. She had nothing good to say about Joe. But he had kept food in the house and abused as she had been, at least she’d not been hungry on top of it. Things had changed though. She made Devon his dinner; a mug of soup with saltine crackers on the side. She took the plate to the living room and set in on the coffee table in front of him. She heard him grunt, but there was no thanks for her effort. She went back to the kitchen and straightened her table. She heard the front door slam again and the voices of Derrick and Dylan. Derrick was twenty-six and she had no idea what he did for a living. But he made money doing it and he was the one who tended to bring food home. She waited for them to come into the kitchen.
Derrick stepped into the room, his arms full of bags. Dropping them on the table, he said roughly, “I got me a fresh steak. Make it now. I’m hungry.”
Dylan, her youngest at twenty-four, moved to unload the bags on to the table. He looked at his mother sharply. “What are you standing there for! Help me.”
Sabina numbly moved to help and as she unloaded, she took stock of what was there. Pork chops and milk. Butter and beer. A bag of potatoes and flour for gravy. Some condiments and juice. A dozen eggs and a can of biscuits. “I told you I needed bullion and pepper too, Derrick. I can’t make gravy without it.”
Derrick shoved the package of steak into her hands. “You’re never happy. You carp and make excuses. Just make home fries and get this steak done!”
Sabina shuddered, sick of this. “I also told you I need cooking oil. I can’t make home fries without it.”
“Use the butter, ma!” Dylan exclaimed hotly. He stepped Sabina and punched her shoulder. He’d had enough of her. She was always talking back. “You get my laundry done yet?”
Sabina stepped back holding her shoulder. She shook her head. “Not all of it, but some. The dryer is broken and it’s been raining so I can’t hang the clothes to dry.”
Dylan slammed his eyes shut in anger. She made it seem like everything was their fault. “So call the repair man, you idiot!”
“I would, except I got no money to pay. If you want it fixed, I need a hundred dollars, maybe more.”
Derrick had enough. He shoved Sabina so harshly, her back crashed into the cabinet. He looked her in the eyes, his breath in her face. “Then you fix the dryer. Figure it out.”
“With what parts, Derrick? Even if I could figure it out, it probably needs new parts.”
Derrick glanced at Dylan. His brother was shaking his head in disgust. He slapped Sabina’s cheek sharply. “Get my steak cooked. We’ll talk about this later.” He grabbed his mother’s arm and pushed her rudely toward the stove. He left the kitchen with Dylan following.
Sabina held onto the stove, gasping in pain. She felt beat up as she touched her cheek, hoping it wouldn’t bruise. Tonight’s no worse than most, she told herself. She went to the bag of potatoes and pulled out three large tubers. Going to the sink, she washed them and began to prepare her home fries.
_________________________
The months went by and she was a wreck. The dryer had never been fixed and now, the washer was going bad too. She couldn’t keep up with the laundry or the cleaning of the house. The boys left their stuff everywhere and, in the morning, she would begin again to try and straighten things up. She was weary from cooking and sick of being hit. She felt herself dying bit by bit. She couldn’t go on any longer. She walked through the front door and stood on the front porch. The day was beautiful and she could hear the birds chattering happily. She wanted to be one of them — free to fly away. Her eyes landed on the old Buick. She had stolen ten bucks from Derrick last night after he’d passed out drunk on the couch. He had scored something and the dollars were spread beside him with some falling to the floor. She doubted he knew how much he had. She had watched him trying to count but he’d been too inebriated, swaying on the sofa, to do it properly. She’d picked the bill up from the floor and tucked it into her bra, a hidden place where the boys wouldn’t look.
Sabina stared at the car. Ten dollars would buy her gas. Maybe she could just drive for a while to get away. The boys didn’t get home until six-thirty, give or take. It was only ten in the morning so she had plenty of time. She was afraid, beaten down, and almost gave up on the idea. Suddenly, she felt like she would die if she didn’t drive. Turning, she went back into the house and to her bedroom. She washed her face, put powder on her bruises and got into a real dress. She combed her hair and found a decent pair of shoes. This was all she could do to look presentable and the effort had tired her out. She sat on her bed, terrified of her small escape. But she was ready now and chose to go forward.
___________________________
She pulled into a small restaurant, the next town over. The Buick had held a quarter tank starting off and she hadn’t intended to go far. The drive on the two-lane highway had been exhilarating and for a few moments when she had hit sixty miles per hour, she had sailed along. But then, she had backed down, not wanting to burn gas. And somehow, she had pulled into the parking lot of this small eatery. It didn’t look like much; kind of dated and worn, with the smell of barbecue in the air. She touched the money in her bra. She could get a cup of coffee and use the rest to put gas in the tank. It was so tempting. She sat for a little while thinking it over. Finally, she opened the car door and walked to the entrance. Opening the glass door, she looked around. The place was mostly empty. She saw the sign, ‘seat yourself’ and went to the back of the restaurant, shrinking into a red leather booth. She placed her hands on the linoleum table and waited.
Nan Drucker saw the new customer and moving to her, began to hand over a menu. She saw the woman shake her head lightly in refusal. She watched the woman carefully. She knew battered when she saw it. And this woman was all broken down. “Do you already know what you want then?”
Sabina sighed. “I’ll just have a coffee. With cream.” She almost added that’s all I can afford but she stopped herself. She tried to smile at her waitress.
Nan smiled back. “I’ll get it. You just relax, honey.”
Sabina closed her eyes as Nan left. Honey. A sweet name. No one had any sweet names for her. Honey felt good. She watched the waitress return with a mug and a pot of coffee.
Nan placed the large white mug on the table and expertly poured the fresh brew. From her apron pocket came a few small containers of half and half. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked kindly.
Sabina shook her head. It occurred to her that she liked this girl. She knew so few people. Her loneliness welled up and motivated her to say, “If you’re not busy, you can sit with me.” She was shocked by her boldness. She couldn’t believe she had just spoken those words. She watched in amazement as the girl slipped into the other side of the booth.
“My name is Nan.”
“I’m Sabina.”
Nan leaned back, studying Sabina. She sighed. “Look, I’m gonna ask a personal question.”
Sabina stirred two creams into her mug and took a sip of coffee. It was hot and smooth and comforting. She looked at Nan. “I don’t mind.”
Nan bit her lip, wondering if she was going too far. “I had a boyfriend once who beat everything outta me. It was so bad, he nearly ruined me. Someone’s hitting you, Sabina. I can see it. What are you going to do about it?
Sabina lowered her eyes, trying to breathe. “I don’t know. It’s my sons. They abuse me and I got nowhere to go.” She looked at Nan. “What do you do when you got nowhere to go and you got no friends or money?”
“How old are you, Sabina?”
“Forty-four.”
Nan narrowed her eyes. “You’re young. You could still have a life.”
“And you, Nan? How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. But a hard twenty-six. I escaped. I got work here and now, I have a place of my own and a new boyfriend who’s a good guy.”
Sabina smiled briefly. “Good for you,” she said softly. “I wish it was me.”
Nan crossed her arms, contemplating the matter. “Can you work? You ever waitress?”
Sabina shook her head. “I never have.”
“Could you learn?”
“Yeah, I could. But my boys — I got three of them nasty pigs — they’ll never let me work a job. They want me under their thumb being their personal maid and cook. It’s a shame to say it, but they take after their father, God rot his soul, and I truly hate them.”
“They hit you?”
“All the time.”
Nan leaned back and shook her head. Bad enough having one beating on you, but three? “Are they gone most of the day?”
“Yeah. They work,” Sabina said stonily. “They get home in the early evening. I gotta have dinner ready or they slap me around. It don’t matter if they brought me no food to cook. They hit me anyway, like I should make something out of nothing. I’m just sick of it.”
Nan leaned forward and laid her hand on Sabina’s. “You want out?”
Sabina nodded in misery. “I do; I just don’t know how.”
“I think I can teach you.”
Sabina swallowed. “That’d be kind. And … much appreciated. But how?”
“We’re hiring. This place isn’t much, but we got our regulars and it’s busy at lunch and dinner. You could work lunch and save money to get your own place. I could show you the ropes, if you’re interested.”
Sabina choked a laugh. “Oh, I’m interested. But I’m also scared. I feel like a hollow person walking and if they find out …”
Nan patted Sabina’s hand. “If they find out and they don’t kill you, I can put you up at my place for a while. It would be tight, but then you could work both shifts and make money faster.”
Sabina felt light-headed. She could hardly believe her good fortune. Was it possible? Was this the road to freedom? She set down her coffee, thinking she might faint. Nan’s goodness had taken her breath away and her heart was beating wildly. “I … I almost can’t … you’re offering me a way out?”
“We women have to stick together. And your situation purely sucks.” Nan went all business then, seeing as Sabina was about to start crying. “When can you start?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Fine. Be here at eleven. I’ll show you around.” Nan leaned forward again, her expression serious. “Now you listen to me. Do nothing to alert your sons. Don’t change your behavior to tip them off. Act in secret. I can’t have them coming here to break up the place. They can never know where you work. And you can never get sloppy about it. You get me?” she asked intently.
“I get you.”
“Good.” Nan slid out of the booth and stood. “Coffee’s on the house today. See you tomorrow.”
_______________________
Sabina drove home, feeling somber. She’d taken Nan’s words seriously. There could be no trouble and it was all on her. She put ten bucks into the tank and parked the Buick just as it had been. She went into the house and changed her clothes. Dressed in her worn attire, she entered the kitchen and pulled on her apron. She washed and spiced a whole raw chicken and put it in the oven to roast for the next two hours. She washed four potatoes, covered them with foil and set them in to bake. Then she moved about the house, picking up clothes and cleaning up other messes. The difference was she had some hope. A glimmer of getting beyond this. It fueled the lack of her physical strength. She prepared some green beans and set them to steam on her stove. She set the table and then went to hang the wash on the line in her backyard. She was determined not to get hit tonight.
_____________________________
Sabina began to plan. She had been working at the Roadhouse Barbecue Grill now for the last month. She was learning to do her job well and was no longer so frightened. So far, her boys had no idea of her activities. She left her earnings with Nan to keep her precious dollars safe, too afraid to hide the money at home. She had nearly a thousand dollars now. She and Nan had fallen into a comfortable routine at work and had gotten to know each other better. They bantered and laughed and she loved having a friend. Her sons still hit her, always out of sheer malice. She knew they liked hitting her. But she was getting more adept at avoiding her face getting smacked. She couldn’t face her customers with bruises or a black eye. She knew Nan watched her carefully. There was no fooling Nan. Arriving at work today, she tied on her apron and pinned on her name tag. She saw Nan skip to her.
“Come with me quick,” Nan said in a fluster.
Sabina quickly followed Nan out the door of the grill and tucked into Nan’s little Toyota. She watched Nan back up and pull out of the parking lot.
“I got a place for you. It’s a simple garage apartment, but it’s available and affordable. We have time before the lunch hour begins to see it. Yes?”
Sabina breathed. “Yes!”
Nan drove eight minutes down the road to a modest ranch house surrounded by big trees. “Hurry. She’s expecting us. Sorry to push you, but I arranged this so quickly and we don’t have much time before we’re needed at the grill.” She parked and got out of the car, Sabina right behind her. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a pleasant middle-aged woman. The woman, knowing they were in a hurry, quickly led them to the apartment.
Sabina looked around. It wasn’t much. It needed paint and a good scrubbing. There was a big room with a combined kitchen and living room. Behind this, was a good sized bed room and a bath. But what the apartment had, what made it special, was the covered porch to the private backyard. She could envision herself there, rocking in a chair, quietly taking in the evening and the surrounding forest. Turning to the landlord, she said, “I’ll take it.”
Nan said to the owner, “It needs painting. My boyfriend is a professional painter. I can have him paint the place, but you must deduct his paint and labor off the first month’s rent.”
The owner nodded calmly. “It would be nice to have it painted. We can work it out.”
Sabina hugged herself with joy.
________________________
That night, in keeping with the usual way they lived, her sons had brought home no groceries and there was nothing to make for dinner except lima beans and soda crackers. They hit her violently and she couldn’t hide the bruises. She went to work the next day with a black eye and a swollen face.
________________________
Jeb Baxter noticed. He waited as Sabina served him a pulled pork sandwich overflowing in barbecue sauce. “Sabina,” he said quietly, “who is hurting you?”
Sabina sighed, looking at her regular customer. He always tipped her well and they had spoken often. She sank into the chair opposite him. “It’s my boys, Jeb. They take after their father. My husband is passed, but unfortunately for me, his legacy lives on.”
Jeb grimaced, shaking his head. He liked this petite, attractive woman and he knew he was coming to the grill mostly to see her. “That’s just wrong. Let me set them straight.”
“No, Jeb. There’s nothing you can do.” Sabina shot him a pained smile. “I am close to leaving them anyway, just as soon as I can figure how to get my belongings out of the house. My new place is ready now. Nan’s boyfriend has been painting it for me.”
“That’s something I could help with, I think,” Jeb said slowly. “I got a big van and me and my boy could help move your things.”
Sabina bit her swollen lower lip. “And if you helped me get my stuff, what would it cost me?”
“Nothing,” Jeb returned gruffly, understanding her. “You don’t owe me a thing.”
Sabina rose from the chair. “Let me talk to Nan. Maybe we could coordinate something?” She watched Jeb nod.
_________________________
They traveled as a caravan. Jeb in his van with his son. Nan and her boyfriend, Carter, in Nan’s Toyota. Her in the Buick. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon, just after the busy lunch hour at the Roadhouse Grill. All of them held their breath traveling to Sabina’s home. They wanted no trouble from her boys. They parked in front of the house and Sabina lead them into her living room. “I want the sofa and the kitchen tables and chairs.” Jeb and his son sprang into action. She and Nan went into her bedroom to strip her bed of linens while Carter loaded her dresser drawers into the backseat of Nan’s car. Jeb and his son returned and she instructed them to take her bed and bedroom furniture. She and Nan went to the kitchen and pulled out pre-loaded boxes of kitchen plates and utensils she’d hidden in the cabinets. Carter grabbed the boxes and made for Nan’s trunk. Sabina busied herself with pulling her favorite pictures from the walls and setting out a few lamps to take. Finally, everything was loaded and Sabina taped a note to the TV. It read:
‘You are grown men. I’m sick of you and your disgusting abuse. I’m gone and will never see you again. Make your own damn dinner.’
Sabina wondered what her boys would think of her defiance. Jeb glanced at the note and took her elbow, urging her to the Buick. He climbed into his van and she and Nan followed him back to the next town over. They unloaded into Sabina’s new home.
Nan looked at Sabina, hands on her hips. “Well, look at you! You’re finally here!” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll leave you to get settled. I gotta get to the restaurant.”
Sabina smiled at her friends. “Thanks, everyone. I’m sure grateful,” she murmured, touching their warm, friendly hands. “For me, this is a real dream come true.”
Jeb looked at Sabina, feeling her happiness. He wanted to ask her to dinner but knew this wasn’t the time. He turned, and left the apartment with his son right behind him.
Sabina watched Nan and Carter leave too, closing the door behind them. She looked around her new life. It wasn’t much, but it suited her fine. Her furniture was in place. Smiling, she set about installing her new shower curtain and putting the drawers back into her dresser. She made her bed and emptied the boxes of kitchenware into her new cabinets and drawers. She hung her pictures on the walls and plugged in her lamps. She brewed herself a cup of coffee and stepped outside into the darkening twilight of the evening.
The fireflies had begun their dance, glowing in their flight.
She set her coffee down and stepped into the backyard.
She smiled, dancing with them, as free as they were.
I am a writer happily contributing to @illumination and @rantt. Currently, I am very involved in writing a fictional series about personal transformation (more soon!). Follow me on Twitter and join my mailing list for updates.
