The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [26]
I was frozen with fear and disgust. I could not move or utter a word. But it didn’t matter, as Colonel Wood now swung into his patter and began to talk for me—just as he had done for Sylvia.
“I assure you, Miss Lavinia Warren Bump is not a doll! She’s a perfectly formed woman! A marvel of Lilliputian splendor!”
There was a gasp, then someone shouted, “My Myrtle’s taller than that, and she’s four years old! Go on up! Put her down on the floor so my Myrtle can stand next to her!”
“Yeah—put her down on the floor!”
“Make her walk! Make her sing!”
“Make her talk!”
To my horror, Colonel Wood was walking toward me with outstretched arms; he was about to pick me up and lift me down off the piano, as if I were indeed a doll. I realized, with a sickening twist of my stomach, that he was not going to ask my leave; his eyes simply swept over me as if he was trying to calculate how heavy I was. My fear and disgust melted away to anger as he placed his unwelcome, violating hands about my waist and I slapped him, hard, across the cheek.
“You may not touch me!” I cried, which had the instant effect of silencing the crowd just as Colonel Wood stepped back in surprise.
“Excuse me?” He rubbed his cheek, eyes darkening.
“I said you may not touch me! How dare you, picking me up as if I was a child! I am a lady, and I will not allow such behavior!”
As Colonel Wood’s color deepened to a dangerous red, the audience tittered; someone called out, “Hey, Colonel, guess you’d better play nice with your dolly!”
“She ain’t a doll!”
“Sure she is!”
“If you ever slap me again, I’ll throw you across the stage,” Colonel Wood hissed out the corner of his mouth as he faced the voluble audience with a broad smile, raising his hands to calm them. “Don’t just stand there, say something to ’em! I could have found me another dwarf who’d be dumb as a rock, just like that dumb giant, but as soon as you said you were a schoolteacher I thought maybe I had something special. Thought maybe I’d found me a meal ticket just like that Tom Thumb. Thought maybe you were one of them special dwarfs.”
Stunned, I could only stand there as hurt tears filled my eyes and my stomach churned with disgust. Dwarf? I had never before been called that word, not by any misbehaving schoolchild or exasperated teacher; certainly not by my own loving family, whom I missed more than I thought I could bear. Dwarf? I had read of dwarfs, ancient accounts of comical pets of royalty or grotesque creatures from fairy tales, like Rumpelstiltskin. The word was repulsive and had nothing to do with who I was.
Was that how he had seen me all along? I resolved to take the next train home, back to my family, who had only tried to protect me from people like him. Contract or no contract, I would—
Don’t shame us, my father had said; the full weight of his words fell upon my shoulders like a cross to be born.
My body felt icy, separate from my brain. Colonel Wood was openly sneering as he moved again toward me. There were only two things I could do. I could stand there like Sylvia, a thing—a dwarf—and let him lift me off the piano—I could almost feel his huge, grasping hands about my waist, my legs dangling helplessly in the air. Or I could take control of the situation and not shame my family.
I will not let my size define me, I had told myself back in my school days. I will define it.
“Stop!” I held up my hand, surprising all, including myself. “Stop!” I had to repeat this several times, but after a moment the audience quieted down, although those standing did not return to their seats, and the ugly young man remained ominously close to the stage.
My training as a teacher now came to my rescue. I felt myself expand, perched atop that grand piano; my spine stiffened, my chin tilted, and I willed every molecule, every bit of muscle and flesh and bone and even the hair on my head, to exude dignity.