The Radium Girls by Chloe Hehir.

1917.

In her most primitive form, Nora was nothing but an artist. Her papers were covered in sketches, an arch of flowers in one corner, life-like copies of butterflies sketched into another. Every pen in the house was out of ink, every pencil leveled into nothing but a stubby eraser.

When she had the time (and the money), the late hours of the night would be filled with attempts to render detailed stories onto empty canvas. Her lines were neat with a paintbrush, unwavering in their presentation, bold after their conception.

That is why, when she saw the ad, it seemed like a miracle. It called to all her strengths: stable hands, an attention to detail. The pay was good, much better than any of her other options, and with Leland getting drafted, she needed the money. She signed the paper with a smile, the sweeping letters of Nora Mannely falling easily onto the coarse paper pushed across the desk in front of her.

“You start tomorrow,” the manager told her, and since he didn’t meet her eyes she nodded at his bald head before excusing herself.

—

The first day, Nora picked out her best dress. It was blue, light like a robin egg, adjourned with a white ribbon that wrapped around her waist and tied in a bow. Her hair– long, and an ordinary brown– was braided and ran like two identical ropes down her back. They framed her delicate figure as if a portrait and were tied at the ends with tiny white bows. Working with radium –the miracle substance– was a high honor indeed. She had heard nothing but the best was accepted.

Pale and pointed, her chin jutted slightly towards the sky as she walked to the factory. Her steps were light, the soles of her shoes thin enough that each pebble in the road was a testament to her strength. Around her, the sun was just poking through the tops of the downtown buildings, and girls dressed in a similar fashion as her proceeded in the same direction.

Nora had never been a part of something before. Something real, something that gave her a purpose, a sense of belonging. And now, all around her, girls kept appearing. One exited a red door, bending to kiss a child, while another left a nearby bakery, a bell ringing in her absence. One by one, the woman latched onto another, giggling and exchanging stories on their walk to work.

It felt like something out of a dream.

—

The factory doors were closed. The girls waited to enter in orderly lines, a mirrored projection of their husbands and brothers being sent off to combat.

Nora took a deep breath.

One, two, in, out.

Eyes: darting like the mice that scurried through the building at night.

Hands: sweaty, even in the crisp morning air.

She cracked her knuckles.

In, out, one, two…

“Ya new?” The girl in front of her, cued by the sound of Nora’s nervous shuffles, turned around to ask the question.

She was tall, probably around the same height as Leland, and had a mouth full of teeth disproportionately large in comparison to the rest of her face. A splattering display of freckles chased each other up the bridge of a skinny nose before settling in clumps upon her high cheekbones.

“Ai’m Anne,” the girl said. She spoke loudly, almost yelling, with an accent that Nora couldn’t quite place.

“Nora,” she replied quietly, reaching out to meet the already extended hand.

“So, it’s ya first day?” Anne asked again, her long fingers pumping their clasped hands up and down four times before letting go.

This girl was unlike any Nora had ever met: loud, abrasive, a bit vulgar.

She loved it.

“Yes, yours?”

“Nah, I been ‘ere months now. But it a’int all too bad,” she smiled wide, and if possible her mouth took up even more of her face. “Good pay, and we go out dancin’ after. Get all a’ glowin’ too– from the radium an’ all.”

“Glowing?” Nora asked, eyes darting ahead as the line started moving forward.

“Ya’, what we paint dem watches with, da’ radium? It glows at night. That’s why they wantin it for them watches an’ all.”

The line was fully inside now, the conversation cut short as the girls and women around Nora moved forward and to their stations. As she put one foot in front of the other, Nora smiled. Her artist’s imagination ran away with the idea of glow-in-the-dark girls dancing late into the night. Pulsing, spinning, laughing; she imagined they would look similar to fireflies. Oh, how wonderful it would be!

The inside of the factory was huge. When she had come the day before, her journey had been directly into the brightly lit office of the manager, and then out the back steps.

Now, however, she entered a room with the largest ceilings she had ever seen. They stretched up so high that she was surprised there were no clouds above her, and though the building was made up of cracking wood and peeling paint, Nora saw it as nothing less than a palace. Her small eyes darted around the building with wonder, taking in the long tables, the high-backed chairs, and the stations set up in front of them. Around them, each girl picked up a basket of materials from the front before going to find a chair.

Ahead of her, Anne turned, long auburn hair tracking her movements like a shadow. “Ya can sit next ta me, if ya want,” she said, her feet already tracing a path to the middle row of seats.

Nora nodded quickly. She offered her new companion the solstice of a small smile, and realized there was no other option than to become a follower.

When she got to her station, she saw the basket was filled with a plethora of items to aid in her work. For one, a mass of clocks lay in front of her.

They looked– to her– like a woman did before getting all done up for the theater. Waiting to be painted, they sat with their faces bare, empty. Not worthy of a man’s attention until a final touch up.

Then, there was the paint. It came in small vials, and Nora was told that each number and knob of the clock was to be painted with the substance. She sat down, nimble fingers tucking the back of her dress around the chair, and got to work. A dull murmur rose among the women in the building, and in the absence of machines, their voices filled the silence with a low drone.

“Ya’ got a husband?” Anne asked, popping down beside her and uncorking the paint-vials with practiced ease.

“Yes, his name’s Leland. He got drafted,” Nora replied, trying to reign in the rapid beating of her heart that occurred whenever she spoke of his absence. “He’ll be back soon though.”

“Ah’ mine’s there too. Fiancé though,” Anne replied, flashing a sparkling ring. The light wafting in from the wall windows bounced off the large stone as she set down an already finished clock face.

Nora blinked at her efficiency, surprise rippling across her face. The brushes were large, and though she was a skilled painter, she was used to thinner utensils to work with. The numbers they had to outline were small, and the manager had mentioned that their pay would be determined based on both the quality and quantity of their work.

“Here, ya gotta go like this,” Anne said, noticing her lack in production.

Taking the brush, she put it between her teeth, allowing for her tongue to wet the tip, before twirling it twice and taking it out. Sure enough, the brush was significantly skinnier, much more adept to the clean, smooth lines expected.

There was something significant about this moment, though Nora couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “You sure this is safe?” she asked Anne, choosing to voice the hesitation.

“It’s a miracle substance! ‘Course it’s safe!” Anne replied, head bent over another watch. In a fluid motion, she stuck the brush in her mouth, thinned the tip, dipped it in the paint, and got to work on yet another clock. “Cured cancer an’ all, ya know.”

Nora nodded in agreement. She remembered now: she had seen an article a few months ago about the wonderful powers of radium. And anyways, they wouldn’t have women working with the substance if it was dangerous. Still, as she put the brush into her mouth a bubble rose in her chest. A bit like the expectation of a surprise party, the feeling sat, filling her for the rest of the day.

—

The air had been getting colder, and though the days were shorter, the girls saw it as a bit of a blessing. Still required to do the same amount of work, the early hours of darkness allowed them to see the glow-in-the-dark paint shine, which allowed them to excel in their production.

Nora sat in the same seat she had for months. By now, the red cushion in the chair had molded to her figure, and she was sure she could trace the lines of the clock with her eyes closed. Turning to tell Anne her idea, she jumped at the sight in front of her.

“Anne!”

“Sorry!” Anne said, grinning sheepishly, her large teeth covered in the glowing radium paint. “We goin’ out dancin’ tonight, if ya wanna.”

“Tonight?” Nora asked, trying to move past the glowing mouth of her friend. “Like that?”

Anne laughed, the dim lighting illuminating drops of paint splattered across her cheeks and dress. “Of course! We gatta do our nails too- make em all pretty an’ all.”

Looking around, Nora saw the other girls doing things of a similar fashion: one was painting her friend’s nails, another tracing the design of a flower on her cheek.

And she had to admit: they truly looked like miracles.

“Okay.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had been out dancing. Tentatively she continued, “will you help me?”

Forever a helper, Anne coated the surface of Nora’s teeth with the beautiful paint. Then they did their nails, the tops of their eyes, and then– just for good measure– their collar bones. When the shift was over, luminescent smiles filled the building. All around her, skeletons were painted. Adjourned with bells and bangles, paint and makeup, the radium girls took to the streets.

 —

The Loose Screw was a band consisting of five men. Besides the lead singer, all were a bit heavy-set, large hands and scruffy beards. In an almost mocking form of opposition, the leader was tall and lanky, with a voice worth paying for, and eyes that lingered a bit too long on Nora’s glowing collarbone.

The music they played was poor: the guitar might have been out of tune, or maybe they should have simply practiced their songs a few more times. Nonetheless, the glowing girls had the time of their life.

Cold when entering, hardly any time passed before the girls’ cheeks were bright with color, and sweat dripped down their skin. The radium ran with the growing stench of body odor, and luminescent green striped across their skin, mocking the veins that ran beneath.

Nora laughed in the sound of the music, letting the melody hold her as she danced. Grabbing Anne’s calloused hands, she spun, and the dresses around her mixed together in a spiraling swirl of color.

Around and around they went, and when the world tilted slightly to the right Nora dipped into the arms of her giggly companion. Even the air around them flush with joy, the lights pulsing alongside their pounding hearts.

They danced until the music broke off on a dull trill and their faces hurt from how large their smiles were. It was a celebration; of the night, of their work, of their country.

Oh! What a wonderful night it had been!

—

Picking up their skirts so as not to ruin them on the dirty streets, the girls left the music, following a co-worker, the baker’s daughter, down the alleyway.

Keys jingled, the door unlocked. The girls stepped inside.

Black and white tiles coated the floors, and the walls were lined with plush velvet booths. The money changing hands was loud– a clattering of coins instead of the soft scrape of dollar bills– as the girls pooled their savings.

“Nonsense!” the baker’s daughter said, pushing their coins back into pockets. “We’ve got plenty of leftovers.”

Sure enough, a full cake sat on the counter, almost as if it were waiting for them. And maybe it was: the radium girls deserved a feast worthy of their fate.

Crowding into the booths, the group’s grins were floating half-moons in the dull light. Nora laughed, Anne echoing the sound beside her.

“Ya want the first taste?” Anne asked, hands shaking as she pushed the food towards her friend.

White as a bone, the cake’s frosting coated perfect, chunky triangles in front of them. The sugar that covered the inside of her mouth was almost too much. Sweeter than any love note she had ever received, the frosting was followed by the rich taste of chocolate, which coated her insides with a pulse of ecstasy.

“You have some too,” Nora said, words muffled by the mouthful of food.

“I better!” Anne said, taking a huge bite of the cake.

All around them, the group ate in silence for a few moments, before Anne, mouth filled with chocolate and frosting, offered another bite to Nora. Her smile still glowed, but chocolate must have been stuck on one of her front teeth, for there was a dark hole splitting down the middle.

“You got some chocolate on your teeth.”

“Can ya help me?” Anne asked, her face leaning close to Nora’s so she could scrape it off with a glowing fingernail.

Nora laughed again, still full of sugar, lighter than even the smallest feather. She reached out–

“Anne?!” she said in surprise. She was close enough to see each and every freckle on her friend’s face. “I think your tooth is missing.”

 —

The change of seasons came along with longer, hotter days. The sweat that poured from the girls seemed to seep into the walls of the factory, and Nora wouldn’t have been surprised if one of these days she simply melted away. The perspiration made intricate work difficult; it would drip into her eyes, and the world around her would blur by at an alarming speed.

On top of that, sitting in the chair for hours on end must have been catching up to her, because long after the sun would set, Nora would be kept awake from throbbing pains in her limbs and mouth. Even her fingers felt numb, the skin dry and peeling in the places that she gripped the paintbrush.

Other girls complained of the feelings too: one had lost a tooth, another had spit out blood in the middle of a shift. The degradation was subtle, until whispers about the girl who sat three seats away from Nora started late into the summer.

“They say her jaw just- it went an’ fell straigh’ off,” Anne said, her smile slightly smaller, and full of gaping holes.

Across the table, another girl with long, golden hair and a slightly swollen neck whispered, “I heard she was diagnosed with Syphilis.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, trembling hands going back to painting the clocks. That did make the most sense.

The demand for work didn’t stop.

“You are working with a miracle substance,” the manager assured them one morning. It was getting cold, and the world was starting to feel a bit fuzzy around the corners. Craning her neck to look up at his bald head was painful. “There is nothing wrong with any of you.”

Yes, Nora reassured herself, tongue fiddling with a loose tooth, bones shifting under her skin.

There is nothing wrong.

Everything hurt.

Nothing at all.

Chloe Hehir

Image: Black banner from Pixabay.com and Story Image supplied by the author. A newspaper advert. for Radium Lighted Watches sold by Ingersoll