“The aim of the Party was not merely to prevent men and women from forming loyalties which it might not be able to control.”
-George Orwell, 1984
Canton, East Baltimore, 1904
The coal soot from the stove hung heavy in the air as he sipped his beer from the carry away tin. Jill sat on the bench behind him, little Bobby and Baby Bree one to each knee. He was still half a gallon tin from oblivion when she started up with her nagging, “You know you spend too much money getting your beer. It’s all you care about—getting drunk!”
“No it’s not. I care about getting drunk as quick as possible. The sooner I pass out the less I have to listen to your infernal complaints! I stopped going to the bar—spend no time with The Boys any longer; do nothing but work and come home to your nagging concerns.”
“This is bullshit Jack. You know the babies need new gowns and the window needs sealed. You spend to much money on beer.”
“Look woman, I’m the man of the house, and though it is not much of a house I am its master and you shall abide by my rules. If you want to buy things for these sniveling brats use your sewing money.”
Now sniffling, she responded, “Don’t you worry you louse, I will, saving it up at Mistress Meredith’s house so your grubby paws can’t get to it. You know you are not half the man that Mister Meredith is. He permits Mrs. Meredith a say so in the spending—”
The sound of the back of his hand connecting with her rosy cheek always made her nagging go away, but not this time. She snapped, "I’ll get the coppers on you for that, you louse.”
“Try it Jill, just try it. I shared a pint with Officer Stinson on my way home. He’ll see it my way, and then there will be more slapping where that came from.”
Jill spoke with a voice full of bitterness, "And so it goes—you men run the show; conspire to keep us as slaves and house pets. But mark my words, Mrs. Meredith says that one day women will get the vote, that it won't always be men calling all the shots. Just you wait."
Jack all of a sudden felt better and opined, "It won't be in my lifetime thank God."
He then turned to little Bobby and gave him a sip of beer. "Here you go boy, a taste of the cure for things to come if your back-talking mother and Mrs. High-and-Mighty Meredith get their way."
