Zebra Tears Read online

  I noticed Ava was also checking on my whereabouts, and I reassured her that everything was alright. I noticed the jambul tree was loaded with fruit, and a great bunch of them were lying on the ground. I loved jambul. They are the same size and shape as dates but not brown or wrinkled. Jambuls were sweet, purple, and always swollen with juice. The skin was so tender that a slight pinch would puncture it, squirting purple juice and easily staining clothing with a purple dye. I had grown accustomed to eating this fruit on many foodless days, and now I gathered them up into the bag. We had no money to buy food on the train, so we might as well have jambuls.

  We were now at the south wall and close to the back gate. Ava spoke in whispers, saying, “It looks like the coast is clear. No one is watching. When I tell you to move to the gate, drop the broom near the bathroom and start climbing over. I will keep watch and then follow.”

  I nodded that I had understood and made my way toward the day scholar bathroom.

  “Now!” she almost yelled.

  I dropped the broom into the bathroom area and threw the bag over the gate. I was glad it had metal rungs and was easy to climb. I had barely dropped to the other side when she was over and running to the back of the school, yelling at me to keep up. We had the cover of the mango trees, but the wall in front of us seemed like an impossible task to undertake. The wall consisted of large guttered rocks with colored glass sticking out on top, plus another half foot of barbed wire.

  We grabbed some of the mango tree branches and pulled ourselves almost to the brim of the wall, only to find there was no footing space without cutting open our hands and legs. Fortunately for me, I climbed more of the tree above the height of the wall, and from that vantage point I could see a clear path. I held my breath and jumped over the wall to freedom. Ava was still struggling with the wire and had blood dripping down her knees but didn’t seem to care. She finally gave a loud yell while she threw herself over the side, ripping her dress.

  We dusted ourselves off and started walking very casually across the street and then along the familiar path we had traveled to the train station. Every now and then she would realize her knees were stinging from the glass cuts and would pick up some discarded paper to wipe away the blood. Also, on occasion, we’d look behind us to see if we had been spotted, which usually brought our adrenaline flow directly to the feet, making us break into a fast run.

  We had finally arrived and leaned against the station wall trying to catch our breath. Looking at each other’s physical condition, we were a terrible mess needing some tidying up. We slipped into the restroom to clean up unobserved, but the attendant in there gave us curious looks. Ava immediately started a conversation with me for her benefit: “Hurry and wash up. Mummy will have a fit if we have to miss our train.” The attendant got into the act of trying to help us hurry. She found a first-aid kit and bandaged her knee, wondering how she could have gotten so badly messed up. Ava said we had been waiting for quite a while for the train, and as sisters go, we had played rough, chasing each other around the station.

  “What train are you waiting for” she asked.

  “We are going to Bombay,” replied Ava.

  “You better hurry up, because the Bombay Special is pulling in right now,” she said while pushing us out onto the platform. We looked quite respectable now and turned to thank her. I clutched the rolled-up sack and noticed the jambul juice had leaked onto my dress. I hid the stains with the bag, following her out to the platform. We had no tickets and looked so out of place: two little white girls on their own in a swarm of Indians, pushing and shoving each other to the front in order to catch the best compartment seat.

  Ava held on to my arm and managed to hide amongst the crowd. The train whistle could be heard, the bell at the station rang announcing the Bombay Special, and I was being suffocated, squashed up against some Indian woman. Suddenly, I felt an iron grip on my right arm. My bag now held to my chest, Ava was pulling on my left, while another hand pulled from the right.

  “Pasco!” I yelled, while my voice drowned in the sea of voices around me. Ava looked so desperate that she was prepared to get on the train with or without me. Being such a big man, Pasco was able to grab me by the waist with one hand while reaching for her with the other.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work. It was a stupid idea. I don’t know why I listen to you,” she yelled at me. Pasco let go of her while he still had me in a vise-like grip. She grabbed one of my hands in order to show Pasco that she was helping him restrain me. I finally gave up and started crying hysterically. Pasco shook me by the shoulders while telling me I was in big trouble.

  The bus ride back to school is obscure, except for the vision of Ava sitting next to Pasco talking her way out of trouble. She blamed the whole episode as my foolish idea. She, being my older sister, could not let me run off by myself. I could have been hurt! I lay in the back of the bus with my feet up against the seat and buried my head of tears in my arms. I massaged my knees, knowing that I would be spending many hours on them and almost felt the pain before it had been dealt me.

  Mother Superior stood in the doorway as we pulled up. Pasco waited for me to come to the front of the bus so he could hold me by the neck to deliver his captive. Ava was already with Mother Superior as I was dragged before the Inquisition. I figured, What was the use of trying to blame her? Who would believe me? I found Mother Doris inside the office and could not bring myself to look at her face.

  Ava was dismissed to her pending chores while I was brought before the two nuns. First thing they did was to make me kneel in front of them while Mother Superior questioned me about the escape attempt. I took a deep breath and explained about the book being pushed into Ava’s face, the peanut frame-up, the blackmail, the first attempt that failed, and then this one.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the blows that were to follow my unbelievable story. Mother Doris was the first to speak. “It makes sense, Mother Superior; the child could not make up such a story.” I straightened my hunched back and looked up at her in surprise. I wasn’t sure I had heard right. Mother Doris and Mother Superior were standing with their backs to me, speaking in hushed tones.

  Maybe there is a God, I thought, wondering what the outcome would be.

  Mother Superior turned and motioned me to stand, saying, “You may go to your chores, Tess. Tell your sister I want to see her immediately.”

  I dusted off my sore knees, picked up my bag, and said I was sorry for all the trouble caused while I walked backward out of the office. I quickly got rid of the bag of jambuls, retrieved my diary, and changed my clothes. My diary was ruined; every page was juiced in purple and unreadable. I tossed it out too, knowing that I could write it again just from my memories.

  Ava was sitting in study hall with her books up to her face pretending to study. I quietly walked up to her and put my finger on her book, pulling it down. She jumped in fright, but on seeing who it was she looked ready to slap the Dickens out of me. I quickly told her that she was wanted in the office, and I ran out of the study hall.

  I watched her from a safe distance. She slowly dragged her feet, making her way to Mother Superior’s office. I had to get closer to see the outcome. It was owed to me for a very long time. I inched my way along the wall, and once she had disappeared into the office I stooped under the open window to hear Mother Superior say, “Ava, I am very disappointed with you. I am afraid you have committed a tremendous—” Then it stopped. I kept waiting for her to continue. Instead, I heard Mother superior yell in panic, “Oh, God. Get the sick room nurse quickly.” My sister, the brave bully, could not take the pressure and had fainted. I walked back to the dormitory thinking how lucky she was. She had beaten the system again. Someday she’d get her up comings, I hoped.

  ***

  “Go on, Nana,” said Vicky. “I think I have bitten off all my nails. This was so exciting but so scary. I wonder what would have happened if you both made it onto the train. Do you think your mom would have sent you back?
”

  “I don’t know what she would have done, darling. All I know is that I never thought that far ahead. Life seemed to come at me so fast that all I could do was survive from day to day. It helped having my dear Anna to console and direct my steps, or I don’t know how I would have turned out. I always remembered what Jesus told me: ‘It will pass.’”

  “Maybe that should be the title of your book, Nana,” said Nick. “‘It will pass.’”

  “That’s a good one, Nick. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “So, how did you escape from that awful place, Nana?” asked Vicky.

  “Well, Vicky, I’ve saved the best for last!”

  ***

  Eventually the nuns forgot my sin, and I was once again allowed into the company of girls my own age. I, too, had put it out of my mind and refused to think about it anymore. I was doing all right now, with hardly any beatings. I had reconciled with Anna, but somehow the distance between us remained. Many times I thought it was too good to be true, something had to happen to spoil my happiness soon. I found that as long as I was having fun, being happy, I had to balance it with some sort of self-punishment. I couldn’t really be happy, anticipating a disaster every time I got that way, so I would sometimes go into a deep depression, isolating myself from my friends. I would go to confession and make up a bunch of sins for Father Anthony so he could play God and forgive me. I would be happy for a while with my friends, but then I would start the whole routine of punishing myself before Mother Doris could find a reason to whip me.

  I was now receiving Holy Communion again at the urging of the nuns, but I would always swallow it before I got back to my pew. Somehow I was not ready to accept Jesus again, and I felt that if He really existed, not just in my imagination, He would find a way to talk to me. It was His turn to make first contact.

  Also during that time I experienced another rite of passage. Once you reached thirteen, whether you needed it or not, you wore a bra. It was the rule! I put up a tremendous fight when Mother Doris and Ava tried to strap me into my first bra. I had such a flat chest that the brassiere cups just hung like deflated balloons. Mother Doris insisted that I keep it on until the bumps on my chest filled it in. A smile crossed Mother Doris’s lips, and I laughed too. I had agreed to put one on, but only when the bumps started showing.

  “Wear it!” she said in a determined way as I walked out of her room tossing the thing around my finger. The big girls giggled as Ava narrated the ordeal I had put her through. I walked up to one of them and asked if I could see what her bumps looked like so I could see how they fit in the contraption I was holding. She pulled away, yelling for Mother Doris. Being thirteen was to be a memorable year.

  Free at Last

  Chapter 8

  After the last episode of running away, Ava had altogether given up studying. She had failed every class but got promoted anyway. With final exams around the corner she would doodle on all her books rather than open them.

  During this time, we were given less playtime and more of study hall. On this particular evening we were told that Mother Doris had other business and was not available to sit with us. Instead, Mother Gina, an Italian nun with the rosiest cheeks—she could have passed for Mrs. Santa Claus if there were one—stood in the open doorway. She had a light mustache and looked like she weighed at least three hundred pounds with only five feet and a few inches to her height.

  Mother Gina dropped her book satchel onto the desk with a loud thud, which got the attention of everyone in the room. “I will not have a single sound from any of you. I must have absolute quiet to grade the exam papers, and you are being warned now to ask any questions you may have before I sit down,” she said. A few hands went up, and she dealt with their requests and then sat down.

  Ava looked at me with a wicked smile and opened her desk. In there was her sewing kit, paints, and other craft materials. She quietly pulled out her scissors and pieces of cloth and started her project behind the cover of a book. She was such a talented artist that she could create anything she set her mind to. I went back to studying and occasionally looked her way to see if her project had developed any further. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed her movement when she would open and close her desk. I turned my head and saw the replica of Mother Gina in a six-inch doll. Ava was holding it up inside her desk and showing it to the girls around her, which in turn started a hushed giggle. I smiled at her genius and thought. What a wacky sister I had.

  Mother Gina looked up from her papers and searched the room with her eyes. Ava quickly shut the lid to her desk, but it was too late. Her mischief had been discovered. As usual, my stomach twisted with pain, and all I could think of was a way to protect her from harm. If Mother Gina discovered the doll, there is no telling what she would have done to her. I moved my elbow over my stack of books and started inching them to the edge. Mother Gina walked toward Ava and brought her ruler down on her hands with such a vicious blow that I thought I was going to see her fingers cut off.

  I pushed my books off the desk, and they landed with a loud bang, bringing Mother Gina’s attention toward me. I bent down to pick up the books and glanced at Ava in concern. I hoped her hands were not damaged and that she would still be able to draw, paint, and play the piano.

  Wham! The ruler came down across my head, followed by my stack of books that she grabbed out of my hands. She slammed them into my bleeding scull, letting my books scatter all over the desk and floor. The girls around me started screaming at the sight of blood, but Mother Gina wanted more. Her hand went up with the ruler once more, but I intercepted it with my arm and then grabbed it out of her hand. I was so angry and incoherent that I couldn’t think of what I was doing. I remember lashing out at her with the ruler and beating her silly. She was covered in my blood, or I had really done some damage to her. The screams in the room were at a high pitch, and all I can remember was throwing my books at her, screaming profanities. I ran out of the room, leaving a thunderstruck audience. My first single-handed revolt!

  My head throbbed as I raised my hand to it, and I felt a huge lump that had formed with blood trickling down my face. I could not cry earlier because I was so angry. Now I was scared and hurting so much that I just wanted to die. I found myself staggering aimlessly, crying hysterically. My sobs were coming through my guts in such groaning; it felt as though my spirit or soul had left me. I was an empty piece of flesh with no thoughts of past, present, or any future. I felt I might suffocate with this overwhelming feeling of loneliness if I didn’t find a way out of there. I found myself running toward the front entrance gate, and to my utter surprise, no one was in pursuit. I hurled myself against the locked gate in hopes of breaking out, but it was locked tight. I grabbed a fist full of the iron bars and shook back and forth, when suddenly one side moved ever so slightly to the side. It made a small opening between the two halves. I stuck my head through the opening and then squeezed the rest of my body, inch by inch, until I finally pulled free. I was now on the outside looking in.

  A sudden rush of adrenaline jogged my memory, and I took off along the wall of the school into a large, open field. It seemed exceptionally dark that night, with only the moon and stars for light. I couldn’t decide on what action to take, feeling at a complete loss because, once again, I had not planned ahead. I crawled under a hedge near the school wall trying to make sense of what just happened.

  I decided to stay close to the school grounds and consider what to do in the morning. I pulled aside parts of the hedge to dig in for better cover when I noticed a broken section of stones that could, with some effort, be pushed through. I dug at the blocks for endless hours, it would seem, until I was able to free at least three, leaving a small opening for me to crawl through. I was now pulling myself through the hole and came face to face with the back of the dormitory bathroom. The smell was nauseating, but I didn’t care. I lay on the grass and looked up at the flickering stars, thinking that if I should die that night no one would find me till the bathroom wast
e was removed, and that could be days. I pulled myself up and leaned against the wall and then decided to crawl back to the small opening, hoping that my head would stop pounding.

  I thought I was imagining it when I heard my name being called. No, there it was again: “Tess,” a shout of many voices in unison. I knew I had really heard it this time, so I scrambled out of the opening I had made in the wall and poked my head through. I focused my eyes in the dark and was able to make out a line of white robes. They were holding hands and calling out my name. They were searching for me!

  I felt the lump on my head, which was now as big as a ping-pong ball, and the pain was unbearable. I almost wished they would find me; I didn’t want to die yet. I could hear Ava’s voice out there too. They were close now, and I overheard her crying, “It’s all your fault that she ran away. You are all so cruel. If anything happens to her, I hope you all get put in jail. Tess, Tess,” she cried out. My sister really cared about me. She loves me, I thought, with a warm feeling inside. I pushed through the opening again to call out to Ava, but the effort it took pulled me toward a black hole of darkness.