Damon Knight - Orbit 21

Momma woke us early. The protectors gave us food when they assigned our living place so we had bread and milk and cereal for breakfast. Then we went to work cleaning our apartment. Ned and Carrie dragged the mattresses out to the landing and hung them over the stair railing to air out. Momma said she would like to scrub them but they look so old and ragged she’s afraid they will fall apart. While we washed the walls, Momma scrubbed all the clothes.

It is after lunch now and Momma has sent Ned to the protectors’ warehouse to get firewood. Carrie saw a little girl playing in the alley and begged Momma until she was allowed to go out and play. I am stuck taking care of the little ones because when Momma went out on the landing to remind Ned to get matches she saw a woman on the stairs and decided to get acquainted. It always seems like everyone but me can just go and do what they want. I’m either watching the little ones or helping Momma.

The woman downstairs is Marie Christen. She came up to have supper with us tonight. She is very pretty and young, and she has a sleeping room all to herself, but she has to share her bathroom and kitchen with the man next door. Marie said the man expected her to cook and clean for both of them and to act like his wife. She refused and told him she was already married. Then he told her things being the way they were she was probably a widow and it wouldn’t be long until she was knocking on his door. Marie said she was afraid of him and what he might try. Momma said she could understand the way Marie felt but that we should feel sorry for a man who was scarred inside and out. He is so ugly I don’t blame Marie. The right half of him is normal but on the left side his face is scarred and puckered and he wears a patch over his left eye. There is no ear on that side either, just the hole that goes into his head. His left arm is bent at the elbow and strapped to his chest with a belt.

Tomorrow I am to go down and help Marie clean her room and the bathroom and kitchen. But I don’t mind. She talks to me the same way she talks to Momma, like we are friends.

Marie has four dresses, two skirts and three blouses. And three pairs of shoes. She laughed when I got excited about her clothes, but in a nice way. She said that when she was evacuated she only had to carry things for herself and having pretty clothes made her feel good. She has two china plates and two cups with handles. And a soft blue towel and washcloth and a yellow crocheted coverlet.

Marie and I worked together all morning on her room, the kitchen and bathroom. Her mattress is half the size of ours, her chair is only a wooden kitchen one, and there isn’t a door on the closet, but we scrubbed the walls and floor, covered the mattress with the blanket and the chair with the coverlet and the room doesn’t look bad at all.

Each day while Ned and Carrie take care of the little ones, Momma, Marie and I walk to Line. People in Line have started to smile and chat with each other while they wait and Momma says it is good for people to get to know one another.

Marie and I have named the protectors who give out our allotment. “Nextplease” is the man in the wheelchair who sits at the table and checks off each family’s name. He does not smile. He says the name, checks it off his list, says “Next, please,” pauses, glances up at the next person, says the name, checks it off, repeats “Next, please,” and so on through everyone in the line just like a machine.

“Grayeyes” is next. Marie named him because she says he always seems to smile at her with his eyes. I’ve never seen it but Marie says I’m not looking the right way. Grayeyes has only one arm. The left sleeve of his uniform is folded neatly at the elbow and pinned to his shoulder. With his right arm he holds a clipboard, balancing it by pushing the end against his waist.

“Slowpoke” takes each family’s allotment bag and fills it with the things Grayeyes reads off his list. After each item Grayeyes has to wait for Slowpoke to go to a box and get it. Slowpoke can’t move quickly because his right leg is turned almost sideways and he drags it behind him when he walks.

When our bags are filled we walk back to the apartment and Momma makes lunch. Marie eats almost all her meals with us because she doesn’t want to cook in her kitchen with the man around.

Marie is teaching me scavenging. There used to be a lot of houses in this town but nearly all of them were destroyed. The part we live in is downtown. Marie and I walk out to where the houses were and poke around in the charred wood and fallen stone. We have found dishes, pots and some silverware. It is funny how things are buried under the debris but aren’t broken.

Yesterday we found some books in a cellar under what used to be a school. I brought them home and Momma spent an hour cleaning off the mud and smoothing out the pages. Two of them are partly burned but the third one is only moldy from the damp cellar. We now have copies of Jane Eyre, Montgomery’s Elementary English and The Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Extract to Gamb “ sitting on our closet shelf. Momma says we can read six pages every evening after supper.

Momma says we must think about school. She says she will teach us and we will study a few hours in the mornings and afternoons just like before. Marie and I have been scavenging all summer and we have four more volumes of the encyclopaedia and two other books. But there aren’t any tablets to write our lessons on—even my journal is beginning to run out of paper and I can only write a little every few days. Momma says there is no reason not to have school, though. We will read and recite what we have learned out loud.

The protectors say the train will be here any day with more supplies and news. Momma and Marie hope they will be able to send letters when the train leaves again to let Papa and Marie’s husband know where we are.

In October I will be twelve years old. I wish there could be cake and presents.

Today at Line the protectors cut our food allotment. We got one less can of soup and one less can of pork and beans, not as much cereal and we will only get one loaf of bread a week. They say it will only be until the train comes with more supplies.

There is snow now and the protectors say the train won’t be able to come until spring. They have cut our allotment again.

Finally we can go outside. It seemed like winter would never end. The protectors say the train will probably come soon. Momma says when it’s warmer we can go into the woods and find nuts and berries.

Baby Anna can say her ABC’s and count to twenty. I taught her how. Momma says I am good at teaching even though I get impatient sometimes. Momma says we will divide our little school in two parts—I can teach Jane and Anna in the mornings and Momma will teach Ned, Carrie and me in the afternoons while the little ones nap. Even Marie is helping—she is teaching us to draw. Momma was upset when Marie first suggested the art lessons because the only materials we have are charcoal from the stove and we only have the floor to draw on. But Carrie got so excited that Momma gave in. She said, “Everything washes.” So twice a week we have art class in the afternoon. The little ones get to draw for half an hour before their nap but all they do is scribble and make a mess. Ned and I try to draw the things Marie tells us to but our drawings never look right. Marie says Carrie is the artist in our family. She can draw people and trees and houses. She even drew a picture of Momma sitting in her chair and it looked like Momma.