The Clothesline

Eighteen-year-old Pearl Taylor stood by the single window pane of the tenement apartment, gazing across the dark courtyard at the third floor room directly across from her. Somehow, despite her deep mourning and the daily drudgery of her new circumstances, the stars above shone brightly in the night sky, giving her a glimmer of hope for the days ahead.

She caught a glimpse of the tall young man in the window. People said he came from Russia, but she never encountered him in the daylight. Yet, whenever she looked up from her bedtime reading, he was reading or writing by lamplight, often into the late hours. She wondered about the thickly bound volumes in his hands, the words he scribbled on paper... always thankful that he was nearby.

Pearl sighed heavily, yawned, and laid her book down before extinguishing the candle and lying down on the lumpy mattress. Her uncle was snoring heavily nearby. Contemplating the empty cot between them, she ached with grief.

Having lost both her mother in childbirth and her infant sister, Pearl had been the apple of her father's eye. Papa sent her away to the best private school but spent every minute of her vacation by her side. He recognized her fine intellect and shared many great works of literature with her, much as her mother had gifted her with poetry collections. However, disaster followed her family. Papa and Uncle Jack invested their savings in the expanding railroad business and lost everything in the Panic of 1873. They were forced to sell their fine home to repay debts.

Papa worked long hours in a factory while Uncle Jack unloaded freight. They still struggled to pay the rent, but Papa forbade Pearl to work in the mills. He had heard stories of serious accidents and rakish young men. Instead, he and Uncle Jack provided a washtub and iron so that Pearl could earn extra money by washing, repairing, and ironing clothes for the bachelors in the adjacent dormitory.

Then, one dreary, rainy afternoon she was informed that her father had been killed in an accident. The workers had tried to turn off the equipment to save him, but he did not survive. The company offered to pay for his burial but did pay the family any compensation.

Pearl brushed away her tears, realizing she had to push on. The morning sun would soon usher in another long, hard day of making breakfast for Uncle Jack, washing bags of clothing, and hanging them on the clothes lines. There were stockings to darn and shirts to mend. She really hoped that Uncle Jack would not waste money on gin after his shift ended. Her uncle's drinking resulted in gambling debts, and the rent had to be paid.

Then she remembered the young Russian. Uncle Jack said the bachelor's dormitory would put out bags of dirty laundry for her to wash and mend tomorrow. She hoped to discover one of the Russian's peculiar shirts among the items left for her. Unlike the other men's slim lines, his shirts were big and blousy and one dress shirt even had embroidery.

The housewives in the courtyard gossiped about "the big Russian," claiming he bowed down to icons and was worse than a papist. They reported that he had tried to assassinate the Tsar and was now working long hours on the Great East River Bridge. Pearl knew the women exaggerated quite often, even criticizing her as lazy for not working in the mills and "putting on airs" for reading Shakespeare. She wondered if his studious nature also singled him out for their criticism. Or did they make fun of her reading merely because she was a girl?

When the light of dawn invaded the dusty window pane, Pearl was already up, stoking the fire and preparing a simple breakfast of coffee and bread for Uncle Jack before he headed out. Pearl then hurried to the door of the men's dormitory where a stern-looking older woman abruptly handed her several bundles. Once back in the tenement, Pearl carefully opened each bundle and surveyed the scope of her task. There were the usual mud and filth on the trousers and shirts, the yellowing body stains on the undergarments... but then she saw it ..the Russian's beautifully embroidered tunic packed with his looser trousers and blousy shirts! Looking more closely, she noted a tear under the arm of that shirt and a place where the embroidery was starting to unravel. This was going to take some time and skill.

Many would pay a small price for "wet laundry" returned ready to be hung to dry. Yet, Pearl's father had seen a business opportunity for his daughter in that the bachelors worked long hours, leaving little sunlight for outdoor drying and little time for mending or ironing,

Pearl began carrying pails of water from the courtyard, up the flight of steps to the apartment where she heated and poured them into her washtub. She worked very hard to scrub the stains out before rinsing the items and hanging them on the clothesline outside her window. As some clothing dried in the midday sun, she would mend any tears and iron items from the previous day with the heavy metal iron. She dreaded the winter days when the clothing froze on the line and she had to rub ointment into her chapped hands to keep her knuckles from bleeding onto someone's white handkerchief.

Although the spring weather was conducive to drying items, Pearl was still finishing the repair work on the embroidered shirt the next evening, after she had already returned the bundles of clean, dry, pressed and repaired clothes to the bachelor dormitory at dusk. Pearl knew it was unsafe for her to walk the pitch black hallways of the dormitory after dark to return the shirt. She surveyed to the clothesline strung between her window and that of the young Russian and had an idea. She would continue to finish reworking the embroidery and send the finished shirt to him by her stated deadline!

At about 9:45pm she pinned the finished shirt to the clothesline with a note apologizing for her tardiness. Pearl also tied a piece of fresh bread to the note as a peace offering. She nervously threw a piece of broken pottery against the wall of the dormitory, trying not to break the window. The Russian startled from his writing and peered out the window. Pearl gestured wildly, pointing to the clothesline, and he retrieved the bundle.

Pearl slumped onto the her mattress, exhausted and anxious that her tardiness in completing the task would ruin her business with the Russian, but the morning sun revealed a note with a fragrant lilac tied to the clothesline:

DEAR MISS TAYLOR,

PLEASE EXCUSE BAD ENGLISH. SISTER ANNE TEACH ME SPEAK AND WRITE ENGLISH SUNDAY AFTERNOONS. YOU GOOD SEW MY SHIRT AND WASH MY CLOTHES CLEAN. BREAD TASTES GOOD, TOO. THE EMBRODRY EXCELLENT. YOU USE ROPE OF CLOTHES FOR MY CLOTHES NEXT WEEK.

THANK YOU MUCH,

PYOTR (PETER) SEMENOV

Spring became summer as Pearl continued to wash and repair Peter's bundles, returning them via the clothesline. One oppressively hot summer night all the third-floor tenement dwellers sat on the small ledge roof between the second and third floor in search of cooler air. Pearl joined the crowd, carrying a candle and one of her books. People shot her angry glances for carrying a lighted candle on the crowded roof. When she finally sat down and glanced across to a similarly crowded ledge on the men's dormitory, she spied Peter there, holding a gas lamp with his nose in a thick book. A blond-haired German roughly jostled Peter as he maneuvered around the large Russian youth. Peter looked up and scowled at the blond man before he met Pearl's eyes and smiled broadly. Peter pointed to his book, and Pearl held up her poetry volume for him to see before they both returned to reading.

The next morning Pearl found a note pinned to the clothesline:

DEAR MISS TAYLOR,

I TRY NOT BE RUDE. WHAT BOOKS YOU LIKE? I READ CRIME AND PUNISHMENT BY GREAT RUSSIAN WRITER, FYDOR DOSTOEVSKY. HE WRITE IN TONGUE OF RUSSIA, BUT SISTER ANNE TEACH POETRY OF AMERICA. I STUDY POE, WHITMAN, LONGFELLOW, THOREAU, EMERSON, AND BRYANT. I WANT READ BOOKS BY ENGLISH WRITER CHARLES DICKENS AND SHAKESPEARE.

RESPECTFULLY,

PYOTR (PETER) SEMENOV

Pearl wasted no time in replying that she read the works of all those poets and loved Shakespeare. She also bundled up a copy of "Tale of Two Cities" and sent it to Peter.

Her excitement would be dampened when Uncle Jack arrived home drunk with Will, a card-playing companion who leered at her as she set supper on the table. Uncle Jack was too inebriated to notice his friend's unseemly behavior towards Pearl, who was relieved when Will finally stumbled out the door at 10pm.

The next day a heavy package was tied to the clothesline, causing the rope to break! Pearl rushed down to the courtyard and retrieved the next bundle of Peter's laundry along with a thick book and several notebooks. The book was in Russian but Peter had attempted to translate a few bookmarked pages for her and supplied a plot summary of "Crime and Punishment." The notebooks were full of Peter's poems and stories with attempts to translate them into English. As honored as she felt about Peter entrusting her with his writing, she knew that a broken clothesline threatened her income. She attempted to fix it several times, only to have it repeatedly break whenever she hung clothing on it. Out of desperation, she draped the day's washing all over the apartment while she darned stockings and ironed shirts.

That night she glanced out the window to see Peter working with the clothesline. An hour later, a brand new line was strung across the courtyard, once again connecting her tenement with Peter's room. The note on the clothesline read:

DEAR MISS TAYLOR,

I AM SORRY BREAK ROPE OF CLOTHES. I FIX IT GOOD. THE ROPE HOLD A MAN. I WORK ON GREAT EAST RIVER BRIDGE AND MY GRANDFATHER SAIL NAVY SHIP. HE CLIMB RIGGING.

PEOPLE SAY I TRY KILL TSAR. IS BIG LIE. MY FATHER IS IMPORTANT MAN. SERVE TSAR ALEXANDER II WHEN TSAR FREE SERFS, BUT TSAR COMMAND HIM KILL MUSLIMS IN CIRCASIAN MASSACRE. SOLDIERS CUT BABIES IN WOMBS AND RAPE WOMEN. MY FATHER IS MAN OF HONOR AND SPEAK AGAINST TSAR. I SPEAK AGAINST TSAR AND WRITE SAME. FATHER HIDE. TSAR FORBID PEOPLE LEAVE RUSSIA, I ESCAPE TO AMERICA.

YOUR FRIEND,

PETER

Pearl poured through Peter's manuscripts whenever she could spare a moment. Peter had difficulty translating his poetry into English, but Pearl loved his stories. She instinctively knew he could communicate important truths, unpopular with the tsar, without directly stating them. She was careful and deliberate in crafting her thoughts about his writing ..so much that she took two weeks to reply.

During this time, Pearl noticed Peter sitting for long periods with his face in his hands. He often remained awake past midnight, bore a defeated posture, and drank more liquor. She was already concerned about the rumors of workers dying from various accidents on the Great East River Bridge.

Surprisingly, one morning Peter's clothing bundle contained a fancy suit and bright sash. Pearl carefully washed and pressed the items before sending them along with her long note commenting on his work. She added a postscript of her hope that he was wearing such a fine suit to visit to a publisher.

Uncle Jack continued to frequently arrive home drunk. He struggled to get up in the morning for work. At the same time he was developing a deep cough and chest cold. Pearl knew their rent was due soon and worried that her earnings alone would not cover it.

One evening, after Uncle Jack had passed out drunk on his cot, Pearl had her back to the window and was mending some trousers when she heard a brawl in the courtyard. Disputes were so common that she did not turn around. Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed her waist. She began to scream but a hand covered her mouth. Her frightened glance met Peter's gray eyes. He gently gestured for her to keep quiet, released her, and slipped out the apartment door into the dark hallway, but not before she noticed bruises around his eye and blood dripping from his arm. Stunned, she turned to the window and listened to the voices in the courtyard cursing the dirty Russian. Peter must have climbed to her window from his room using the clothesline!

The next day a note appeared:

MY DEAR MISS TAYLOR,

I AM SORRY GIVE YOU FEAR LAST NIGHT. I NOT HURT A WOMAN. THANK YOU MUCH FOR READ MY WRITING AND GIVE ADVICE. YOU ARE PEARL OF GREAT PRICE AND MY MUSE. WE HAVE SAME MIND.

MAN AT BRIDGE WORK ENVY ME MAKE MORE MONEY. HE HATE RUSSIANS AND SAY I STOLE POCKET WATCH. I NOT STEAL! ANOTHER MAN FIND WATCH AFTER MOB BEAT AND CHASE ME. ALL IS GOOD NOW.

YOUR SERVANT,

PETER

Pearl was delighted to receive such a kind note and, seeing that Peter had not yet left the dormitory, she strung a tin of oinment for his wounds to the clothesline with a slice of apple cake. Peter eagerly grabbed the items off the line and waved goodbye before leaving for work.

Pearl was scrubbing the clothes in the washtub at midday when she heard a knock. She opened the door to see her uncle carried in by two other men, the concerned-looking George and the shifty Will. With a high fever and chills, Uncle Jack was delirious. George tipped his hat to Pearl sympathetically and headed back to work.

Will sat on a chair while Pearl tended to her uncle with cold compresses. When she went to fetch more towels, Will followed her and pressed her against the cot, tearing at her clothes. Knowing his intent, she screamed loudly, but no one came. Will threw her down on the cot, pulled up her dress, and forced himself upon her. She screamed and fought back, but he penetrated her. Uncle Jack was still delirious on the other cot. Will adjusted his clothing and left.

Crying, Pearl washed herself and then returned to Uncle Jack, offering him sips of tea while her own body ached. How could she afford a doctor for her uncle? What if she was now with child from the attack? After a while, Uncle Jack fell asleep and Pearl tried to wash her blood from the bed linens. No matter how hard she tried, Pearl could not remove all of the stains. She wanted to burn the accursed bedclothes in the fireplace but lacked spare linen. Pearl hung the sheet on the clothesline.

Then she hurried to the courtyard to find a doctor for her uncle. A newsboy suggested she consult the nuns. Sister Anne knew a doctor that helped with charity cases, but he was busy tending to some mill workers. The nun noticed some bruising on Pearl's arm and began to question her, but Pearl panicked and ran.

Pearl returned home exhausted, double-bolted the door, checked on her sleeping uncle, and collapsed on the bare mattress, sobbing in the gathering darkness. She heard pounding on the door but ignored it, fearing Will was returning to abuse her again. She finally drifted into oblivion, interrupted hours later by a sunbeam shining through the window. She tiptoed over to Uncle Jack to see that he was breathing laboriously. Then Pearl looked up, noticing a note and small box pinned on the clothesline.

MY DEAR PEARL,

YOU ARE HURT? I SEE BLOOD SHEET ON ROPE OF CLOTHES AT NIGHT. SISTER ANNE SAID A YOUNG LADY WASH CLOTHES LOOK FOR A DOCTOR WITH BRUISES ON ARM. I KNOW THIS LADY? I HAD MUCH VODKA AT NIGHT AND WENT TO APARTMENT OF PEARL WITH MY SWORD. I WANT RESCUE YOU BUT DOOR LOCK.

SOMEONE HURT YOU? PERMIT ME RESCUE YOU! YOU NOT KNOW YOU SAVE MY LIFE WEEKS PAST, MY DEAR. I READ ENEMIES KILL MY FATHER IN RUSSIA AFTER I RUN TO AMERICA COWARD AND WRITE STRUGGLES. I ASK YOU PRESS FANCY SUIT. I WEAR IT WHEN I JUMP THE BRIDGE AND KILL ME.

YOUR WORDS MAKE ME LIVE. I READ ADVICE OF PEARL AND SEE MAN PRINT BOOKS. MAN WILL PRINT MY BOOKS AND HELP PEOPLE OF RUSSIA! I CELEBRATE WITH MUCH VODKA.

PEARL, I WANT HELP YOU. EVIL MAN DISGRACE YOU AND LEAVE YOU WITH CHILD? I PROVIDE MONEY. EVIL MAN NOT HURT PURITY OF SOUL. I LOVE YOU AND WANT MARRY YOU. YOU TAKE GRUMPY BEAR ME? IF YOU NO WANT ME, I HELP YOU STILL.

RING OF MY GRANDMOTHER IN BOX FOR YOU.

PETER

Pearl's heart was overwhelmed as she opened the box to find an ornate ruby ring, but she glanced over at Uncle Jack. She had to take care of him. No one else would.

Pearl touched his hand and realized she no longer heard his breaths. Shaking him, she called out his name. He was dead.

Emotionally overwhelmed and weak, Pearl passed out, only to awaken later to drink tea and eat some bread before lying down again. She slept fitfully until the sky grew dark and there was a pounding on the apartment door.

Will shouted that Uncle Jack owed him a large sum of money in gambling debts. Will would take what was owed to him. He began to break down the door.

Pearl climbed onto the roof ledge in the darkness. Focusing on the warm glow of light in Peter's window, she grabbed onto the clothesline and climbed across the courtyard on it. When she reached the outer wall of the dormitory, she rapped on the window pane. Peter ran to the window and opened it wide as she climbed into his waiting arms.