Broken by Mary Ann Gouze

out when I’m not here, the monsters will get you. And they’ll eat you alive!”
    Stanley stopped talking. He shook his head to clear it. The room came into focus. JD sat like a statue, his dark glasses in his hand. Stanley looked straight into JD’s wide eyes and whispered, “He did stuff like that all the time.”
    “Is he crazy?”
    “I think so.”
    “How old was she?”
    “Little. Maybe two or three.”
    “What did she do to make him so crazy?”
    “I think she wet her pants.”
     

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    With the grocery list in her pocket and the umbrella over her head, Anna Mae walked down the hill towards town. The rain had dwindled to a light drizzle, but the gutters were still gushing with dirty water. Anna Mae wished she had warned Stanley, because there was a union meeting at seven o’clock, Walter might come straight home after work. Not that she cared about Stanley. But anything that set Walter off could ricochet onto the whole family.
    Anna Mae entered Vinko’s Grocery. Water from her folded umbrella made a puddle on the floor. Joey rushed to mop it up, assuring her she wasn’t the only one who had come in dripping.
    With only four dollars, Anna Mae didn’t want to embarrass herself by piling up more than she could pay for. She took out her list and was calculating the cost of the groceries when the mill’s loud shrill whistle blasted the announcement of the end of the day shift. Three-thirty! Quitting time! The blood drained from her face. Were JD and Stanley still in the attic? Did Davie come home from Tamero’s? Would Walter go straight home?
    Joey leaned his mop against the wall near the door then approached Anna Mae. “Are you okay?”
    She nodded as she placed a loaf of Town Talk bread on the counter. Maybe Walter would go to the bar and by the time he got home—no—Walter would want to go to that meeting sober.
    Joey followed her to the nearby egg case where she studied the prices. “Anna Mae? What’s wrong?”
    “I’m a little nervous,” she said leaning over to pick up a carton. “I guess sometimes I worry too much.”
    Joey smiled. “You sound just like your mother.”
    The hand holding the eggs stopped in mid-air. She stopped breathing. Had she heard right? Did he say what she thought he said? He did. He clearly said, ‘You sound like your mother.’
    With two hands, she carefully carried the eggs to the counter and placed them beside the bread. She willed herself to sound calm. “Oh?” She looked up at him. “Do you know my mother?”
    Joey paled. “I have to go.” He began walking away.
    She grabbed his arm. “I asked you if you know my mother!”
    “N…n—n—no. I don’t. I don’t know her.” He tried to pull away. She tightened her grip, pulling him down the aisle and behind a pyramid of Cheerio boxes.
    “Joey! You said I sounded like my mother. How do you know that I sound like my mother?”
    He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her eyes.
    Panicked, she struggled to think of what to say next—to keep him talking. She would have to lie. “It’s okay. I know that you and my mother are friends.”
    “We are,” he said. “But she trusts me so I can’t tell you nothin.’”
    At the front of the store, the double doors banged open and six rowdy teenage boys pushed and shoved each other up to the counter. Joey hurried to the front of the store leaving Anna Mae standing behind the Cheerios, paralyzed with excitement—and fear. Fear of what?
    Vinko and Joey sent three of the boys outside. Anna Mae fought to control the turbulence inside her. Nobody; not Sarah, not Olga, not Walter, especially not Walter, ever talked about her mother. And now Joey. He knows her mother.
    She moved slowly up the aisle, picking up a can of baked beans and a package of Twinkies as she went. At the front counter, she placed the new items next to the eggs and bread. Joey was gone. She tried to figure out if she had enough money, but it was useless. Her head was spinning. She