THE DOOR - Chapter 14 by Teri Borseti Chapter 14 Shelly stood in her kitchen trying to remember how her entire life was turned upside down by this painting. “If I never went into the gallery I wonder if they would have found me anyways,” she thought. It seemed like everything in her life had been placed on hold for weeks. She never saw friends or made plans to do anything that wasn’t chosen by The Door. And the worst part was that Saliba was the only one she could talk to about the whole thing and she had no way of contacting him. But on the other hand she felt pretty special and assumed that few people were given the chance to become time manipulators. She knew there was no way she could research the subject or learn more about it except to continue taking the trips. It really would be great to take part in planning the trips down the road. It was so odd that she was going about her life still mourning the loss of her mother, trying to get a grip on the death of her husband, and was out of work, and suddenly absolutely everything had changed. She just didn’t know if it was for the better. She waited a day trying to prepare herself to go to a place where she could be seen and heard. There was no way of knowing where she’d land once beyond the light. She could end up in Disney Land or in the Mekong during the Vietnam War. Although she was still excited about the trips she felt that now she’d have to pay more attention. She always comforted herself with the idea that she could be home in an instant and hoped that Saliba would never change that. She hadn’t been sleeping well what with so much on her mind and after eating a late lunch she decided to take a nap so she’d be well rested for the next trip. It was around dinner time when she stood before the Door but as always there wasn’t much time for wonderment because in a flash she found herself standing in an enormous room that looked like a giant warehouse. The first thing she noticed was that the temperature must have been at least 100 degrees and the air was thick and heavy and smelled of textiles. The next thing she noticed was the incredibly loud noise all around her. It didn’t take too long to figure out that she was in some kind of a mill. From the corner of the room where she stood it looked like there was about 100 women manning huge mill machines, some were just children. She had dressed in black before sitting in front of the Door hoping that wherever she landed she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. This place was so busy that no one even seemed to notice she was there. She grabbed a broom that happened to be standing there and pushed it slowly hoping she looked like she belonged. Shelly searched the room for a sign that might let her know where she was, time or place. The ceilings were a mile high and there were huge windows that were caked with dust and bits of textile but outside she could make out what looked like a river. Across from the river there were rows of brick buildings that must have added up to a million square feet of space. The place was seriously depressing. In addition to being poorly ventilated and extremely hot the women were dressed in long skirts and high neck blouses. Many wore boots despite the season. And though the noise was deafening no one wore ear plugs. She wondered how they could do this all day long. She was standing close enough to hear the conversation between two women who were carding and roving cotton through industrial sized looms. The younger of the two women looked to be in her early 20’s and spoke with a heavy Irish brogue. “If there’s a god in heaven I’ll make it to the end of the day. I’m sweating like a bull don’t you know,” she said. The older woman who looked closer to middle age barely acknowledged what her coworker said and with just as thick a brogue she said “Me back is killing me and it’s hot enough to faint away.” Shelly walked a little further and saw a plaque on the wall that told her she was at the Slater Mills in Lowell, Mass. She guessed it must have been the late 1800’s. All over the room she could hear a string of different accents; German, Italian and what sounded like French Canadian. Many of the women were a sight with faces wrinkled from strain, poorly cared for teeth, and sweat pouring from their faces. The hardest part was watching the kids who couldn’t have been much older than 10 or 12. Most could barely reach the looms. They were the unhealthiest looking of all with holes in their shoes and eyes vacant of emotion. She stopped outside what must have been the administration office. A sign on the wall read “Hours of Operation 5 AM – 7 PM”. Beneath the sign was a time clock employees used to prove they came and left on time. A man who barely noticed her walked into the office with a woman trailing behind him. He said in a most annoyed and authoritative voice, “Mrs. Murphy you’re making almost three dollars a week and the hours are what they are. Now if you don’t like the way we run things you can go off and find another job or take a boat back to your potato famine.” The woman looked like she wanted to cry. She had a terrible cough and looked completely worn out. Now that Shelly finally had a voice she was almost afraid to use it but as Murphy passed her she couldn’t help but ask “Excuse me but are you alright?” The woman looked at her as though she’d seen a ghost. “Alright? Are you in your right mind lass? None of us here is alright. It’s hotter than an oven and the girls are dropping from consumption and dysentery every day. I have the croup and would bet my boots that I’m running a fever too.” Then she looked at Shelly strangely as if she realized that she wasn’t one of the regular workers. “Are you from the union?” she asked and before Shelly could answer she launched into a litany of terrible conditions that existed at the mill. Shelly learned that it was pretty common for workers to get inflamed lungs from the particles and bits of thread in the air. “We’re on top of each other working six days a week. It’s brutally hot in summer and in winter we freeze. The lighting is bad, there are no fans and all we get is two half hour breaks a day,” she said. Another woman who had overheard the conversation chimed in with an accent Shelly didn’t recognize “Vir sharing cherms all day und zen at the boarding houses at night. I hear the boss say ve lose about 300-400 workers a year from accident or illness. But vat can ve do? Vit out vork ve don’t survive.” The entire setting was more than a little disturbing. She moved on to another room and another but they all seemed to look the same. Near a dirty window a woman was trying to get a breath of fresh air. Then she heard a man call “Gabrielle you must come back to work. If you get caught you will be fired.” “Listen Mr. Leo Kerouac I work my fingers to the bone so our son Jack can have a better life.” she said. So it was Jack Kerouac’s parents. Of course, it was Lowell and they had slight Canadian accents. Jack must have been just a little boy. At 12:00 a loud bell rang, loud enough to be heard over the noise in every room. Suddenly things began to quiet down. Machines slowed and women carrying their meager brown bagged lunches headed outside to take a break and try to catch their breath. Shelly followed along trying to pick up bits of conversation. Outside she sat on a grassy spot shaded by a big old tree where many of the others also sat. A gray haired woman pulled a potato out of a burlap bag. It looked as though it had been boiled. She also had a slice of dark break and a container of water. She stared off as she ate her tasteless meal and then looked at Shelly “Don’t you have anything to eat deary?” and with that she offered Shelly part of the potato but Shelly politely declined. “Can I ask you a question,” Shelly said. The woman nodded rushing the gray hair out of her eyes. “Can you tell me where the boarding houses are?” The woman whose name turned out to be Louise told Shelly they were all within walking distance of the mill. “But they’re even more crowded than we are here. Got about 25 women to a house but there ain’t no time for spending there anyway. We just sleep like the dead and come back here again tomorrow. Sunday we get the day off after church. Do you need a place to stay? I could ask around for ya.” Louise said. Shelly lied and said “Oh no thank you, I’ll be staying with some relatives here in town.” For the rest of the 30 minute break she observed the workers, some lied on the ground hoping to catch a few winks before having to go back inside. Others removed their shoes and wiggled their toes in the 90 degree air which felt cool compared to inside the building. Their hands were worn and calloused and kids looked like they hadn’t bathed in over a week. They all had dirty faces bereft of any expression and most looked like they’d never had a real haircut. She also noted that a few people were missing a finger or thumb. A woman who had lost a foot used crutches to get around. The entire experience was utterly dismal. From the grassy spot she could see what looked like miles of brick buildings topped with smoke stacks that pumped black smoke into the sky. Shelly had had enough. She wandered behind one of the buildings and when she was certain that no one could see her she said the magic words and was home in an instant. She was never so relieved to be back at home where the air was cool and crisp and breathable and the house was clean. She poured herself a tall glass of lemonade and thought it never tasted so good. She sat on a chair reliving the experience in her mind and thought “Now what am I supposed to have learned from that one?” As she switched from lemonade to wine she wondered if she should just let the whole thing go. It was like being in purgatory and not knowing how long it would last. Some of these trips gave her the creeps but others were a once in a lifetime experience like seeing The Beatles. She knew there was probably no place she could hide from Saliba. She needed a good dose of reality so she called Jenny and asked if she wanted to meet her for lunch the next day. Jen sounded delighted with the idea. Shelly was happy to have the plan in place but she knew she wouldn’t be able to discuss anything about her adventures to Jenny, or anyone else for that matter. Only Saliba would be her confidant.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Jul 2013 12:07:56 +0000
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