Crazy Charlsie

Charley’s Tale Part 5

Things eased up a bit for Charley over the next couple of years, once she looked around and noticed she wasn’t the only kid excluded from the popular group.  After math one day, she saw Marzell Anderson  hurry out of class just ahead of her.  The poor girl was unaware the back of her skirt was blood-spotted, a nightmare Charley had always dreaded.  Charley closed the gap between them, and whispered as she  tapped her shoulder.  “Stay in front of me and go to the gym dressing room..  Your skirt is spotted.”  Marzell got a pad from the gym teacher who checked her out, changed into her gym clothes, and went home, her dignity intact

Charley dreaded lunch.  She always avoided the line making, her way to a table far from the giggling groups of cute girls and athletes with the lunch Cora made her.  Her nose was buried in a book, when she was surprised to hear Marzell’s low voice.  “I brought you something.  You saved my life yesterday.”  Marzell sat, opened her lunch bag, and pushed a waxed paper wrapped fried pie across to Charley.  “I never have anybody to sit with.  Is it okay if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” Charley answered, looking at the lunch Marzell pulled from her bag.  “I’ll take half the pie.  You eat the rest.”  With that, she pulled her Swiss Army knife from her skirt pocket and sliced it.

“Wow!  You carry a pocket knife.  I never saw a girl carry a pocket knife.  That’s a pretty good idea.  I might try it.”  Marzell was obviously impressed.  “I’ve never seen a knife like that.  Can I see it?”  She examined every feature as Charley explained their function.

“My dad gave it me last Christmas.  I use it all the time, fixing my bike, cutting fishing line, stuff like that.  I don’t know how I got by without it.  Best present I ever got, except for my bike, of course.” Charley was surprised to have anyone interested in what she had to say.

“You fish?  Where?  I used to fish all the time before We moved, but haven’t found a place  here.  Can I go with you sometime?”   Charley had never met another girl who fished.

“I’m going after school today.  You can tag along if you want, but I’m not baiting your hook or taking your fish off for you.”  Charley replied, expecting the girl to lose interest.

“And I’m not doing  yours, either.  I told you I used to fish all the time.”  They both got a chuckle out of that.

“I have to run home and let Mama know I’m going.” Marzell told her.  ” I only live a block away.  Do you want to walk with me?”

Charley hadn’t expected this.  “Sure, it’s on my way.  Meet you out front after school.”

“We have last class together.  I’ll just scratch up with you there.  Don’t you ever look up?” Marzell asked.

“Not really,” answered Charley.  ” I like to keep to myself.”

 

 

 

 

 

Charley’s Tale Part 4

That day was misery for Charley, sure everyone knew her humiliating secret. Not for the first time, she wished she had a ss

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close friend to talk to, but had learned to guard herself carefully to avoid exposing herself to treacherous classmates.  Now that she had reason to be interested, she realized she’d heard girls giggling about “that time” and asking friends to “”check the back of my skirt.”  She saw Margie Smith slip quickly  into to gym teacher’s office and hurry to the bathroom and realized the reason.  She slogged miserably through the next couple of days, terrified she’d give her secret away.

During study hall that day, she projected how many days would be ruined before she was forty and decided she just wouldn’t tolerate the indignity.  Waiting till Cora went home for the evening, she emptied all the ice trays in the bathtub and lay in the tub as long as she could bear it, before washing her hair in the frosty water.  Hard cramps and a splitting headache rewarded her efforts.  She asked her father for some aspirin for the headache, avoiding mention of the cramps.  Cora had apprised him of her situation, so he was prepared.

“Sure, Charley.  Can I get you a hot water bottle.? If you having cramps, that might help.  I only wish your mother could be here for you, now,” he told her.  It was so hard raising girls without a mother.  At least Cora was there for them.

Charley whirled and went to her room, mortified her father knew her humiliating secret.  “I don’t need a hot water bottle!”  Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged an admission of cramps out of her.  She whirled and left the room in a huff.  She pulled on her warmest flannel pajamas and went straight to bed with no sanitary pad, assuming she’d put a stop to her menstrual flow, thanks to Cora’s warnings.  She slept deeply and peacefully once she finally warmed up, but was appalled to awaken to blood-stained pajamas and sheets.  Charley felt betrayed by her own body and Cora.  She’d taken her warnings as a promise.  Ginny darted in her room, saw the causality and reacted with horror.  “Ginny, get out!  Now!”

“Daddy!  Cora!  Come quick!  Charley’s bleeding!”  She called out.

Charles started to rise from his paper and breakfast.  “Don’t!  I’ll go.”  Cora said.  “You’ll shame her.”  She trudged up the stairs.  “Ginny, you go on down.  I’ll help Charley.  She probably scratched the scab off a sore on her leg.  Scat!”  Ginny didn’t look convinced, but went to breakfast.

“Oh, baby, your pad musta slipped out of place.  Go get cleaned up and I’ll take care of all this.  Just run a little warm water in the face bowl and clean up with a washcloth.  You can’t take a bath now!  It’ll make you stop!”  Cora said “make you stop!” like it was the gtavest of all threats.

“No, it won’t!  I was trying to get it stoped an’ took an ice bath last night!  It didn’t stop nothing!  You was lying to me!” Charley’s mouth quivered with betrayal and hurt.  Cora, her hero and protector had let her down.

Cora was stern.  “Now, I know you hurtin’ an’ you hate all this growin’ up, but I been raisin’ you your whole life.  I ain’t never lied to you in yore life an’ I never will, but I ain’t puttin’ up with none of yore back talk.  They’s some things in life you gonna haf to put up with, like it or not.  Do you think I been livin’ this long an’ had everthing my way? I had to put up with the curse, an’ I had to put up with a man that drank and beat me till somebody cut up him in a knife fight.  I ain’t saying I missed him none, but it did leave me to raise three chillun by myself.  We ’bout starved till I got started doin’ for y’all.  Now, is you gonna git movin’ or do I haf to git yo daddy?”

“I’ll get ready.  I didn’t mean to be sassy.” Charley backed down.

“I know you ain’t meant no harm.  Just stick an extra pad in yore pocket an’ come down to breakfast.  Ginny an’ yore daddy are worried ’bout you.” Cora told her.

“Be down in a minute.”  Charley gave Cora a question city hug.  “I know you ain’t never lied to me.

Charley’s Tale Part 3

School become a hostile place for Charley. When boys and girls started pairing off, Charley found herself on the outside. Finding no particular boy attractive, she was confused to hear girls continuously chatter “Johnny, David, or Mark is cute.” None of them were cute to her. They were just boys, no different than last month or last year. Wanting to fit in, she offered up the observation, “Robert is cute.” The snide group burst into laughter, ridiculing her and Robert. Apparent, the skinny red-headed lad hadn’t made the standard cute list. Sing-song shouts of “Charley loves Robert” rang to the treetops. Bashful Robert was humiliated to find himself the focus of the girls’ ridicule and fled the crowd. From then on he avoided Charley like the plague. Shame and rejection darkened her perception of herself. She withdrew, feeling it was as though she had a target on her back. The meaner of her tormentors them resurrected stories about her mother’s madness and labeled her “Crazy Charlsie!” The torment was relentless.

The Barnes children from next door were as familiar to Charley as breathing, a bright spot in her desert. The twin boys were a year older and Julia a year younger. They’d played cops and robbers, ball, ridden bicycles and built a treehouse together. When the darkness descended at school, she depended even more on their friendship. They were always able to take her mind off the confusing changes she faced. With Charley approaching puberty, Mrs. Barnes sought to put some distance between Charley and the boys. She forbade horseplay and physical contact, fearing it would awaken young sexuality. This abrupt change confused Charley further. One morning after a sleepover, Mrs. Barnes went in to wake the girls for breakfast and found Charlie’s arm draped cozily Julia, signaling the end of their close friendship.

One morning Charley didn’t come down when Cora called her for breakfast. Cora found her in the bathroom staring dully at her bloodstained panties. “I’m dying, Cora. Why is this happening to me? You’d better call my father.” She spoke in a monotone.

“Aw Lawdy, Honey. You ain’t dying. You just got the curse. That means you can have a baby now. Don’t you let no boys be kissing you. You gonna bleed a few days ever’ twenty-eight days now till you ’bout forty. You’ll git used to it. I meant to talk to you ‘fore it happened an’ it done slipped up on us. Let me get you a pad and belt an’ I’ll show you what to do.” Cora thought she was comforting Charlie.

Charley was appalled at this unwelcome news. “I don’t want to be a woman. What if somebody finds out about this? I ain’t going to school. Everybody already laughs at me. I wish I could just run off somewhere and live by myself. I can’t stand this!” Charley wailed.

“Yes, you can! Won’t nobody know if you don’t tell ’em. Ain’t no way nobody would as long as you keep your pad changed an’ don’t slip up an’ soil yourself. You need keep a spare pad in your purse. If you start at school, you can get one from the gym teacher.” Cora continued her talk. “You can’t swim, take a bath, ner wash you hair during your period or you might make it stop. Be real careful not to go out barefooted with dew on the ground, neither. That’s the worst. I had a friend once that done all that an’ once she finally had chillun’ ever’ one of ’em had fits. You know what fits is, don’t you? You wouldn’t want to do nuthin’ to make yore pore little chillun’ have fits, would you?” Cora waxed colorful in her warnings as Charley’s spirits hit the dirt.

“Cora, I never carried a purse in my life. Can you imagine all the laughing if if start dragging a purse a few days a month? There ain’t no way I could ask the gym teacher for nothing. She hates me. How can I go to school if I can’t take a bath? I’ll just stay home if I get another curse and you don’t need to worry about me kissing a boy! I’d sooner kiss a pig than that mean bunch up at school. I ain’t gonna marry so there ain’t gonna be no kids to have fits.” Charley was working up a good mad as though Cora was responsible for the insult of her menstrual cycle.

“Charley, ain’t no use in carrying on so over God’s doing. Now you just git yourself ready an’ git on to school. Take a pad with you an’ you’ll do fine. You can put it in your lunch bag an’ leave it in your locker to change after lunch. Now, scoot!”

With a miserable scowl, Charley collected her things and stomped out the back door furious at Cora, herself, and the world.

Charley’s Tale Part 2

Early on, Charley loved school.  Because she was bright, friendly, and excelled at games, she had no shortage of playmates.  She grew up in a time when girls didn’t wear pants to school.    Cora dressed her in good, serviceable styles that didn’t get in the way of fun since  she had no interest in frilly dresses or fussy hair. The minute she flew in the door, she skinned out of her dresses and into her pants.  None of the family focused on her clothes, figuring the girls had been through enough.  Little Ginny, her greatest admirer, was always waiting expectantly for Charley on the front porch or at the front window.  Ginny was as feminine as her mother, though their differences were not an issue for the girls.

Naturally, Cora bathed the girls together and Charley had remarked on their differences, to which Cora replied, “If everbody was just alike, it would be a mighty dull world.”

Charley accepted that, remarking, “Ginny’s plain and I’m fancy!”

“You’re just a little different, that’s all.  Just like your hair is red and Ginny’s is white, but don’t say nothing to make her feel bad.  It’s all good.” Cora answered.

Satisfied with Cora’s explanation, Charley gave their differing anatomies no further thought, going back to her soap and bubbles.

In her comfortable  world, Charley hadn’t dealt with gender confusion, cruelty, or peer pressure.  Then hormones kicked in.  Charley was among the tallest in the class, so not surprisingly, she showed early breast development, for which she received unwelcome attention.  One day, she was groped as she played football.  “Hey, Charley’s got titties!”  A boy jeered. She kicked him and strode off, furious and humiliated.Her peers and her body left her feeling alienated, mortified that a familiar game had turned mean.  The rules were changing.  Charley, of course knew women had breasts, but had never considered the the calamity of having them sprout on her flat chest.  Horns or hooves would have been more welcome.