This week we had a guest artist in our class. Mrs. Steele is a wonderful photographer, journalist, oral historian, and professor. She gave us the assignment to interview someone in our community, record it, transcribe it, and then write a creative nonfiction story based off that interview. Well, here it is.
Nell Forbes, a sixty-six-year-old woman from Magnolia, Mississippi, has one of the most beautiful, terrorized souls that I have come across. She’s a loving mother of four and grandmother of ten, but she has carried her scars from a very young age. She had her daughter in 1969 and spent the next decade suffering and doing her to best to be a good mother.
…………….
It’s six-thirty in the morning when I walk up the ramp to her glass trailer door. She’s sitting in a recliner with her legs crossed and the nail of her index finger between her teeth. Ronnie Forbes, her husband of thirty-six years, is sitting next her and staring at the television. Our eyes meet and she waves me in. Upon entrance, she stands from her chair and gives me a one-armed hug.
“Hey baby, I wasn’t expecting you this early.” I smile at her, knowing full well by the make up on her face and the hairspray in her short, blonde hair that she was prepared. “Where are you wanting to do it at? In the bedroom? The kitchen? Bay, turn off that T.V. so we can do it in the kitchen.” Her husband does as he’s told with a vague roll of his eyes. He looks up at me and smiles.
“There’s some apples in the ‘frigerator if your hungry. I can make you something hot if you want.”
“No Sir but thank you.” He nods his head and stands from his recliner. “Bay, I’m gonna go to town.”
“Alright.”
“Love ya.” He gives her three quick kisses before making his way outside. Mrs. Forbes and I sit at the kitchen table. With a deep breath comes the scent of cleaning supplies; I look around and notice that not a single thing is out of place.
She goes on to tell me about her parent’s split, and how her father kidnapped her and her siblings from school just to throw her into her aunt’s home. She speaks about an older man and getting pregnant at fifteen. She would later marry an abusive drunk.
“One night my husband beat me. I was two weeks from having my son. He jerked the telephone cord out of the wall and left me. My daughter decided to climb up in a cabinet while I was washing my hair, and she fell and broke her arm. I won’t ever forget it. I was terrified. I broke and run to a neighbor’s house. Then I realized that I had left her at the house, and I turned around and run back. My hair was wet and dripping. The neighbors helped me get her to the hospital and she had to have surgery. I was there all night by myself. Well, until later when my husband’s brother showed up to stay with me. My husband come back. It was probably the next day, but I can’t remember for sure. Anyway, I would up having my son early. He still didn’t change.” My heart breaks as I hear the sniffle in her voice. I reach out and touch her hand.
I think about the love she must have for her children, and how despite all the times she was shoved aside, she put her all into her kids. It kind of just hits me as she goes on about the abuse and how she got out of it and remarried. Her eyes light up at the mention of her children. This woman loves with everything in her because no one loved her.