The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 19

Maribeth felt the rising tension at home that felt like electricity fraying the edges of their fragile relationship. Her mother was less talkative and seemed to be holding a grudge against her little girl all because of a few drops of shampoo.

Indigo bathed her daughter in Epson salts. On the third day, when Maribeth whined, "Oh, geez. We're doing this every day?" 

Her mother replied, "You're bringing me down, girl. You did this to yourself. You gotta detox. It's for your own good."

Apparently, the homemade detox drinks were also for her own good. Indigo blended lemongrass, rosemary, clove, cilantro, and various essential oils and stood watch to ensure her daughter drank every last drop of the bitter, rancid concoctions.

After school each day, Maribeth returned to Indigo's hemp eco-friendly detergent shop in the basement of the laundromat. Her mother was determined to enhance the lathering properties of her hemp hand soap by adding almond oil, sunflower oil, and shea butter. Maribeth found it difficult to read her books in a confined environment where her agitated mother banged metal pots and cursed under her breath. Indigo Finch was not a bad person, in fact, she had multiple admirable qualities, but undeniably, she was a terrible mother.

The Farmer in the Dell incident marked the beginning of the end of Indigo and Maribeth Finch's mother-and-daughter relationship. It was inevitable given Indigo's come-what-may, free-flowing outlook on life in stark opposition to her daughter's desperate desire for an orderly existence free of the slightest ambiguity.

Due to the fact that Indigo did not own a cellphone and there was no phone in the basement of the laundromat, Mr. Beeman, the counselor at Maribeth's school, was unable to contact her. Maribeth spent the afternoon in the counselor's office waiting for her mother to arrive at the end of the school day to have 'a little talk' with the counselor and then walk Maribeth home. She passed the three-hour period observing.

She noticed that the principal, Ms. Crocker, had a habit of scratching her itches with the end of her pencil. She scratched her scalp beneath a bonnet of heavily-sprayed hair, scratched the back of her neck beneath the collar of her starched shirt, and jammed the pencil into her scuffed brown leather low-heel shoes to alleviate the itch of some form of fungal infection.

Maribeth noticed that the secretary fluttered her eyelids frequently when she leaned closer to her computer screen. She observed her eating her way through a bag of fruit-flavored Lifesavers that she kept in the top drawer of her desk, the candy clicking across her teeth as she worked.

She noticed the counselor, Mr. Beeman, struggling with a mild case of indigestion. His cologne reminded her of the smell of banana pudding snack cups.

At 3:26, Indigo Finch strode into the counselor's office, her cheeks flushed. She wasn't concerned for her child, in fact, she was obviously annoyed.

"Won't you have a seat, Ms. Finch?" said Mr. Beeman.

With her arms crossed tightly over her chest, she said, "So what is it this time?"

"There was a bit of a disruption in Ms. Abbott's class," Mr. Beeman replied with a forced smile.

"Oh?"

"Maribeth refused to sing with the class."

"Refused to sing? Downer, man."

"Oh, geez," said Maribeth. "You said to never say things I don't understand. That means singing, too, right?"

Indigo leaned closer to the counselor and lowered her voice. "Dig this. She called the bus driver a bastard."

Mr. Beeman blanched.

"She wasn't tuned in, didn't know what it meant. She heard it somewhere and well, she said it. So I told her not to say things she doesn't understand."

"Good advice."

Indigo propped her hand on her hip and addressed her daughter. "You didn't call someone a bastard, did you?"

"No."

"I want her to be a free spirit,' said Indigo, "but c'mon, man."

Mr. Beeman said, "Apparently, Ms. Abbott was leading the class in 'The Farmer in the Dell' and Maribeth declined to join in."

"You know what a farmer is," said Indigo.

Of course, Maribeth knew what a farmer was. Her mother talked non-stop about free-trade coffee, migrant workers, and, of course, hemp farming.

"So what's the hang-up?" Her voice rose a pitch or two.

Maribeth replied, "What's a dell?"

"What?"

"What's a dell?"

"It's a... it's a... I don't know. Why didn't you ask your teacher?"

"She did," said Mr. Beeman. "The class paused while Ms. Abbott googled it. But, apparently, the definition didn't sit well with your daughter."

"She said a dell is a small valley or a secluded hollow," said Maribeth. "Hollow what? That doesn't even make sense."

Indigo's blemish-free complexion reddened. "You know what a valley is, don't you?"

"I guess so."

"You must have seen a valley in one of your books."

"Possibly but nobody called it a dell."

Indigo shrugged, her palms upturned. "So, it's a small valley. Why couldn't you just go along with that? Go with the flow."

"What would a farmer be doing in a small secluded valley?"

"It's just a song, Maribeth! A silly song."

"Oh, geez."

Mr. Beeman added, "Typically, it's the heigh-ho the derry-o part that has some of the kids a little confused."

Indigo let out a slow sigh like air leaking from a balloon.

The counselor continued. "And, of course, some have been critical of 'the farmer takes a wife, the wife takes a child' section. Admittedly, we should consider an updated version." He cleared his throat. "But this is the first time I can recall that 'dell' has been problematic."

Maribeth's brow furrowed. "None of those kids in the class know what a dell is. The teacher didn't even know what a dell is. But they go ahead and sing words that they don't know what they mean. You said not to do that."

"See?" Indigo pled her case to the counselor. "This is what I have to deal with every single day. Bastard! Dell! What's next?"