Some things are harder to write about than others. The following is one of them.
I am not sure how long I was with Cleo when this took place. The first meal I remember being served by Cleo was Chicken Noodle soup. Cleo became very angry because I was holding my spoon in my “evil” hand.
She was yelling at me about the hand I used to eat with was ‘evil.’
I didn’t know what ‘evil’ meant, but by looking the look on her face, evil must mean really bad.
She set me down and told me to use my RIGHT hand!
I didn’t know what my RIGHT hand was.
I picked up my spoon.
Cleo was screaming about the RIGHT hand!
Lou reached across the table and put the spoon in my other hand.
Cleo stopped screaming.
That must be what Cleo means by the RIGHT hand.
I tried to eat my soup with the spoon in the RIGHT hand. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t know how to use this hand.
When I tried to eat the soup with the RIGHT hand, I spilled soup down the front of myself.
Cleo flew into a rage. Picked up an extension cord, yanked me out of the chair and struck my back, bottom, and legs with it.
I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I was trying to do what she wanted.
I was trying to use the RIGHT hand, but it didn’t feel natural. I was clumsy when I used the RIGHT hand. Cleo said using the other hand was “evil.” I didn’t understand, I had always used the “evil” hand.
She told me to eat my soup. Lou again put my spoon in my RIGHT hand. I held the spoon really, really tight. I was trying not to spill any soup.
I spilled some soup.
Cleo was screaming about an ‘evil’ hand. She snatched the spoon away and smacked my “evil” fingers with its handle–really hard.
Cleo picked up the extension cord. Instead of beating me with it, Cleo tied my RIGHT hand and ‘evil’ hand together behind my back.
Cleo told me to lap my soup like a dog.
I did. I was crying.
Cleo was smiling.
My back and fingers hurt. They hurt bad.
Cleo and Lou watched.
After I finished lapping my soup, Cleo told me that I would be using the RIGHT hand. Every-time she saw me trying to reach for something or using my wrong hand, my ‘evil’ hand would get hit with the heavy handle of the spoon.
Cleo dropped the spoon in her apron pocket.
Eventually, I did learn to use the RIGHT hand. I don’t know how long it took. I do have scars on my “evil” fingers from the times Cleo caught me.