The man, Hubert, climbed out of Elegy's bed, groaning her name as he did so. He called her by her Christian name at these times, but that didn’t change things. Elegy  had got done worrying about changing things. She was now on to living life the way it is.  Right now Hubert was rolling his overweight and out of shape self out of her bed, and though she was glad of it, her expression  if he had taken the time to notice would have revealed a hurtful indifference. But Hubert did not take time to notice. He had his own hurtful indifference to inflict. And if Elegy had been inclined to be hurt she would hve been. But really, she didn’t care. Not any  more. 

When Hubert had first taken to invading her bed she'd been angry. But Hubert liked her angry. She'd fought him like a wild animal those first times, even as she knew there wasn't but one way for it to end. her fight had fueled him and made him pound into her with the kind of force that would have broken another woman, a weaker woman. but she was not broken or weak. At least not that she knew. So for a while she fought him and let him enjoy the thought of capturing and killing her. it passed the time for both of them.

But then got tired and now it was the refusal to fight that sent him into a tailspin.

Her body hurt. She lay still waiting for him to be gone, hoping like she did every time that he would forego his ritual of pretending that this had been good for both of them, that both of them wanted this. He never di. And it wasn't good for either of them, only one of them wanted this.  She saw to that.

The wall in front of her had nearly been burne through with her steady gaze. it was the wall she saw over his shoulder as he stormed into her. It was the wall she saw when he was done and her body hurt too much to move. She was sure there was the beginning of a burn there, and if she squinted just so, she could see it good.

There it was.

In the bathroom the water pushed through the pipes and splash hummed something tuneless. Noise, just for the sake of it. If she had given herself a chance to think on it she might have come to the conclusion that he was drowning out his own self. Trying not to know what he had done, always does. But she did not. It was not her way to think about things like that. Not yet, anyway.

Elegy took a moment to inspect herself inside and out. the usual bruises from the struggle, wrists and thighs black and blue. Inside she could not find herself. . She noted all of this with an empty calm. One day she would look inside and find herself, but not today.

Hubert emerged from the bathroom smiling as he always did. It was a grin without humor, but one which required a response. "Did you like it?" the smile asks, "was it good?" For all his demands he still needed her to be okay with it, feel good about it. I twas her only weapon. And when  she wielded it he looked stung for a moment, then smiled that humorless smile again and left. Her power didn't matter. He would be back.

When she heard the lock click on the downstairs door and the weak panel on the porch creek under his heft she threw the covers back and gingerly lifted her legs over the side. There were things to do today Always things to do.

Hubert would go back to Ailine and the two of them would pretend he had not been here fucking her against her will. They would pretend that there had been not deal with the devil, that everything was  perfectly normal.

On Tuesday it would be Leo. At last he wasn't married, and would never be, thanks to his own deal. He didn't know that's how it would end, but she had known. It pleased her that their power over her depended on their own weakness, something she could exploit.

It had started with less fanfare than one might think. Mama L almost didn't see it coming herself, but things rarely got by her thirsty eyes. And after the second time, things began to make sense.

What happened to Ninah had been an accident, though Elegy, who had been known by her Christian name at that time could not get anyone to believe her. And if she could not get the people of the neighborhood to believe what chance would she have with the police? That was how they explained it to her. That evening she had served cookies and lemonade on account of how hot it was. So hot.

By then the deed had been done. Ninah was dead. All that was left was what was to be done about it. Elegy ha not asked for their help. They had come on their own because Ninah, they said, accident or not, had deserved what she got. Heads shook in amen-like agreement.

It was Friday which meant it must be the day of atonement. Elegy. didn't like that much, but there wasn't much about this arrangement she did like, except tat she wasn't locked up in some small cell pacing like a caged cat.

They always took the time to remind her of that when any one of them got the chance. And today was one of those days. 

She liked Ebbie Greenwood. She was old when Elegy was young. How she was still living nobody really knew. Some suspected it was the result of a side deal, but nobody ever came out and said it, not to her face.

Ebbie was at least 105 years old and spry. She could talk the ears off a donkey and rarely lost her place. Once in a while the events of that fateful day came to her against her will. She hadn't been blessed like the rest with the ability to let it go. Sometimes it came back humming and strumming a banjo. 

Elegy hoped  today would not be one of those days. 

She was sincere in her feeling for the old woman. She'd really had very little to do with the whole mess. But she had got in line with the rest of them when it had come time to collect. For that she hated the old woman. Elegy had felt and still felt she'd had not right to come. But they had all insisted. So for the last twenty-five years Elegy had been there for the old lady. Like clockwork. The light rapping on her door. It made Elegy smile. They all maintained that much respect. That little bit. She put the warm rolls on the table and surveyed the room one last time. Ebbie liked things just so. Elegy saw the room with the same indifferenc she gave to almost everything these days. But things had to be right today. She tweaked the gold runner that ran the length of the table and adjusted the candleabra at the center when it moved. The rolls smelled sickeningly sweet. They used to be her favorite thing. Now she coudl barely stand the smell of them. Making them from scratch had always given her pleasure. But now her hands in the dough felt like quicksand and she often had to stop in the kneating process to catch her breath. She used to be able to taste them. 

She pressed down the skirt Ebbie made her wear with her hands and gave herself a passing glance in the mirror. For a second she could convince herself that she still gave a damn. when she and her reflection had passed through each others gaze she didn't even remember what she had looked like.

She opened the door with the same energy with which she had discussed Hubert, that is to say, none. The smile Ebbie saw was an accessory lie the necklace and earrings and high heel shoes, all insisted on by Ebbie

Elegy stepped aside and let the woman in. 105 meant little to her movements, She had come over on her own steam. Elegy glanced around the neighborhood. One or two people out watering lawns but nobody paying any attention to the old lady.

"Evening Ebbie," she said more polite than she really felt.

"Ebbie nodded and shuffled toward the biscuits.

"I see you got raspberry jam today."

"Yes ma'am.," Elegy said, like she said every Friday when the old woman came. The first few times had been rough. Ebbie had not been specific and things had got off to an inauspicious start with Elegy forgetting the jam once or twice. The violence that followed had to her back on track, though. She had not made a mistake in 24 years. 

She waited patiently while the old woman lifted a warm biscuit, slathered it with jam and butter and popped it into her mouth. The old woman chewed like a horse and each turn of her jaw should have sent Elegy into fits of r age. But Elegy was done with rage. It was time to just be. 

Ebbie shuffled over to the couch and propped herself daintily upon it, like it was a throne. Elegy noted that with little to no expression. It was simply a fact. The woman patted the cushion next to her gently, encouraging Elegy to come sit next to her. Elegy went. She knew precisely how close to sit. She hadn't measured the distance, not in inches, not really. But they both knew how it was done. Mama L could recite the  script from memory. The one thing she could say about these people: they liked their routines. It was part of what upset them so badly about Ninah. She upset their routines with her evil ways. 

She felt the old woman's hand squeeze her thigh and resisted the urge to react. That woman's hands always made her feel like that, and she hated it. For Hubert and the other men, it was easy to play statue. For her, this was the moment. Every single time, she had to catch herself. And what made it worse, the old woman knew it. Mama L knew it like she knew her own name. The woman never said anything, but they both knew. 

"Do you have anything to confess today?" the woman asked, like she did every single time.

"Yes ma'am." It was the only acceptable response. Elegy had tried some other ones. but they all caused the woman to react with a number of violent responses. 

"What would you like to confess first?" the old woman asked, her voice clear as fresh water. Her hand eased up Elegy's thigh, lingering in the soft spaces of her full thighs. Elegy sat stoic, hands in her lap. She had been shocked the first time the old woman's hands had crept up her thigh seeking out the private places on her body. She had even tried negotiate her way out of it. But the woman had reminded her in that sweet way that old women had that negotiations were done. 

She gave the old woman no more of herself than she gave any of the others. And the old woman was pissed about that. Elegy's body used to respond back in the beginning of things, against her will. But now it seemed her body and mind had found community. This time the old woman had come prepared. Her fingers were wet and slathered with something. Elegy hadn't noticed and the sensation was unsettling against the nylon. She wanted to steal a glance at the old woman but that was not how this particular game was played. Elegy looked straight ahead and so did Ebbie. Elegy had no expression, but the old woman, if Elegy had been allowed to look, maintained a perpetual smirk. Her tight lips turned up at the corner just enough to pull d on the corners of  her eyes. 

Elegy could hear the woman's breathing quicken, could feel the energy in the room change as her fingers inched closer the crotch of the pantyhose the old lady insisted she wear. There had been talk about stopping Ebbie from coming. They didn't know what she did here, that was part of the deal, but they knew that whatever it was she slept for two days after she was done. They worried for her health, they said. Elegy thought that was a hoot. That woman would outlive them all. 

When her breathing had reached its peak and her body had gone rigid with pleasure, the old woman unhooked her fingers from Elegy's soft spots, put her dainty white gloves back on and stood, a little wobbly at first, but steady after a minute. 

"You be a good girl now," she told Elegy, like she did every time. Elegy remained silent. The old woman opened her purse, slid the remaining biscuits into it, clipped it shut, and shuffled out the door. Elegy sat perfectly still until she heard the door click her safety once more.