Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

Author:Sena Jeter Naslund
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-12-10T22:34:28+00:00

LIMPLY, I sank upon the settle in Mrs. Macy’s kitchen.

“Girl, girl,” she said, “you’re pale as bleached linen.”

“My husband is gone forever,” I said.

“Now then,” she said, sitting beside me and patting my hand. “So’s mine. And look at me.” Her forearms were covered with small freckles, very close together, yet distinct. What else did she mean for me to see?

“He’ll never come back,” I said.

“Nor will mine, till Christ comes in the clouds, the graves open, and the quick and the dead ascend.”

She spoke of the end of the world with total good cheer.

“Look at me,” she went on. “I have my own business. More close friends than I can count on fingers and toes. Who knows, for you, even—why, it could happen to me—I’m only of middle age, and strong—God may send another, better husband. Here,” she said, “take off your clothes and get in the washtub. The water’s warm, but far from scalding. Wash off your grief. I hear he was but a sorry lot, anyway.”

Here I sniffed, preparatory to tears. She ought not criticize my Kit.

“But no doubt you loved him well enough. You have a loyal heart—anyone can see that. Still, there’s nothing like a spring bath in water someone else has heated. Strip down, girl. I’ll pull the curtain.”

Indeed, I could not move, but Mrs. Macy pulled the curtain, stuck her finger in the water, then grasped a hot stone with her tongs from the hearth and threw it sizzling in the water. I felt the rock was my heart, gone already ahead of me into the water.

“The Indians cooked with hot stones in their water,” she said. “Can you imagine the filth of it? Not my rocks, though. They’ve been boiled ten thousand times. Do you use hot rocks for your washing?”

“No.”

“Now lift your arms, and off slides the camisole. Oh, you’ve nice breasts, indeed. You’ll yet nurse a babe. And I’ll scald his diapers for you. It’s a promise. And you’ll remember Mrs. Macy who on your day of woe, scrubbed you pink and pretty and sent you to town as fresh and sweet as the first rose of summer. Now the drawers. Yes, you have pretty lace trim, but my! such a hard tie-knot. Now you mustn’t tie the knot so hard, oh, no. No one likes to fumble. No, he doesn’t like that. Yes, you’ve the hips to be a mother. That’s right, just step right in. Doesn’t it feel pleasant? Fold up now. I’d squat, not kneel, if I were you. Yes, then rock back and sit on your buttocks. Here’s a rag to wash the upper story.”

Indeed the water was so clean, warm, and comforting that when I closed my eyes in the bliss of it, only a few salt tears squeezed out.

“Now, this,” Mrs. Macy said. “Glycerine and rose water.” She gave the little clear bottle a vigorous shake. I saw the oil droplets inside. She opened it up and poured it all into my bathwater. “It

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