Lily

I slept downstairs with the rest of the children, sharing a bedroom with Esther and Suzie, while the boys slept in the boys’ bedroom. Baby Diana’s little crib was in Mama and Papa’s room. We played in the lobby and on the dust-infested steps with all the other kids from the building. There was Becky from my class, Judy from Suzie’s class, and a handful of Italians we played hopscotch with when Papa wasn’t looking. No one ever played with Lily, and I wondered if they even knew she existed.

On some days, as I lay in bed, I’d wonder the same thing. Did she exist at all? Why was it so quiet upstairs?

On other nights, I’d hear the thump, thump, thump of her head banging against the floor or the wall, along with her roaring wails. She made noise like all the washing machines at Laura’s Laundromat running at once.

On those nights, I also heard Berta yelling and cursing. If I strained my ears enough, I’d hear the sound of a strap hitting Lily’s body until the thumping stopped. Then I knew that Lily was strapped tightly to her bed.