Molly ~

“Hephzibah girls have a full schedule.  After their academic subjects they have a vigorous exercise program”   Ron Williams  Hephzibah House Information packet to parents.  

Weakness was not allowed at Hephzibah House.  Weakness was not allowed,  but self awareness and self possession were the highest possible offense.       

Molly arrived like everyone else and was defrocked and showered and all indications of personal identity stripped away.  Melinda was heavy, they could not scrub that away.     She wore her weight with the presence of a queen.  She was delicate and refined and feminine.  The epitome of a lady.   

I watched as Molly was weighed and measured in front of us all.  Sharon crouched on the floor squinting as she peered intently at the bouncing needle of the portable bathroom scale.  At one point she snarled and glared upward,    

“Be still!”  

Molly had not moved a muscle.  

She returned to reading the number as if discerning the exact pound was of critical importance.    

Diana stood,  as usual,  with her thick arms  crossed against her ample bosom which was indistinguishable from her ample waist line.  

Molly looked forward,  her wide eyes glistened bright with unshed tears as she held her head chin up and eyes forward.   The only movement was her fingers that slowly caressed and smoothed the golden silk ribbon of her fine waist length hair.  

I thought of Patty.  Sloppy and awkward with her disheveled hair and crumpled,  dirty house dresses.  I thought of how she waddled and hitched and slouched when she moved across a room.  She would huff and puff,  face red with the exertion of simply walking up the stairs.  Patty was held up as the highest example of Christian womanhood to us girls and she was far heavier and more out of shape than Melinda.  It was hard to understand the distain and malevolence being shown to this young girl. 

I watched Molly’s dismayed face as her weight was etched with flourish in bright red ink on the posted weight chart.  The chart was in the main hallway where any student staff or even visitor could see.  Every girls weight was plotted weekly and displayed.  The red indicated half rations.  Half rations of our pathetic,  meager meals was a cruel joke.  

 Molly glided back to her seat with her head held high, she caught my eye and smiled.  I decided I liked her immensely.  

Molly adjusted quickly to the rigors of Hephzibah House.  Her personality seemed to hold her above the fray.  In spite of every humiliation that was our lot at Hephzibah House she remained dignified,   unbroken.   

That could not be allowed.  

Molly’s downfall was the 1.3 mile run around the property on a rough uneven foot path.   It was a tough run even for girls who came to  Hephzibah House trim and fit.   We were given a week to master one lap,  another week to master  two laps.  By the beginning of our third week we were expected to run the entire course.  We ran single file,  spaced precisely.    We had assigned places in the running line just like we did every time we had to stand in line and wait to load into the vehicle or use the bathroom, or transfer from one area to another as a group.  

Picture a classroom of kindergarteners lined up to go to the library from their classroom. 

  

 Maria,  with her back problems,   always had the tough job of leading the line and setting the pace.  The position fell to her because she was the most trusted,  not because she was the strongest.  On winter days like today she had to break through the snow which in some places was drifted knee deep over our path.  Sometimes there were hidden patches of slick ice hiding under the loose snow.  Maria ran blind and cut a path guiding us through all the pitfalls.   

I was second,  but when Melinda arrived she was placed between Maria and I. Everyday Maria and I would try to encourage her,   the days turned into weeks and she still could not manage the run.  Fall had turned to winter and the run got harder as the weather turned bitter cold and the snow fell.  

“ You’ll make it today Melinda,  we are all praying for you”  

Every girl would chime in,

“You’ll make it”

“ Don’t give up!”

“I’ll pray for you the whole way!” 

Our scarves were crusted with ice and our breath made clouds up around our faces leaving droplets of moisture frozen on our eyelashes. .  We stomped our feet in line to keep warm while we waited for staff and the older Williams kids to get into their places.    They took sentry positions all along the track at every vulnerable opening.     

Everyday Molly would smile and say she would make it.  She knew today was the day.  Her eyes shone with sincerity.  I felt terrible.  Physically there was just no way.  She was weak from lack of food,  demoralized and injured from her nightly beatings.       Today  the layer of snow with the thick crust meant you had to  lift your legs high and bring them down hard to break through the snow.   Melinda did not stand a chance.   I shivered,  worried that even I was too depleted and cold to make the run.  I forced a cheerful smile and steeled myself for the inevitable.  

“Ready.....

Go!”

At Diana’s command the line began in unison.  Twenty-six girls with culottes and winter boots and legs covered with nothing more than thin tights or old pantyhose.  

Clomp, Clomp,  Clomp, Clomp.  The only sound was our feet tromping through the snow as our breath punctuated the air with little puffs of fog.  The line of thickly bundled young girls reminded me of a train chugging up a mountain pass.  Clomp,  clomp.,  clomp.  Puff,  puff,  puff.   

The first big challenge was the downward slope towards the garden.  It was treacherously slippery under the snow.  

Maria advised Molly from up front to go sideways and stomp her feet in hard to keep her footing.  

“Watch me.”  

Maria showed Molly by example.  Molly tried to follow and made it down the hill without falling,  but she was already gasping.  As we ran along the long side of the property she was falling further and further behind Maria.  I had to keep pace with Maria to avoid getting in trouble so I grabbed Molly’s arm and tried to pull her along with me.   It was useless,  she was now wheezing and gasping for air.  Maria took a great risk and stepped back to grab her other arm.  We pulled her between us as long as we could.  As we rounded the front of the property and headed for the long upward grade of gravel driveway. She sagged to her knees and we had to let her go.  Maria ran on,  I glanced down at Molly as I stepped around her and caught up to Maria.  

 Molly grabbed her chest as she fell to her knees in the deep snow.  Twenty five girls had to run past leaving her in a sobbing heap. She had not made it even as far as the day before.  She was dropping weight  so quickly and had missed so many meals it was astonishing she could run at all.            

 Today,  like every day she was roughly dragged away from the line.  Miss Diana descended on her with a scowl and grabbed the back of her jacket hauling her away.  We had two laps to go and I tried not to look at the  pathetic form struggling to keep her feet as she was manhandled toward the house.  

Everyday she was paddled for the disobedience and rebellion of not running the course.    

Most nights she was not allowed to eat dinner.

There would sit Molly. Straight and elegant on the ancient couch.  tiny bits of light peeked through the slatted shades and made her smooth golden hair glow.  The dance of fading light seemed to join with her  long graceful fingers as she caressed  her hair absentmindedly with that slight far away smile on her face.   It was as if she was not here with us at all.  

She looked  angelic to me.  An Island of calm.     I wished I could join her in her far away place.  

I took another bite of my boiled greens.  The dirt gritting between my teeth as I choked it down.   There was no place to go,  no place to hide or find solace for my frantic heart.  I was fixated on the drama being played out all around me every day.  Transfixed by the nuances of power and defeat,    hunger and denial.   loneliness and rejection.  

Molly disappeared one morning after breakfast.  We were not allowed to say goodbye,  we were never informed what happened to her.  We were not ever allowed to speak her name again.  

“They cannot make me forget you Molly”,    I whispered to myself as I passed her vacant bunk.  The plastic scrubbed with bleach,  waiting for it’s next occupant. 

“Please don’t forget me.  Please.....”








By,

Susan Grotte