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diff --git a/79013-h/79013-h.htm b/79013-h/79013-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..157fefb --- /dev/null +++ b/79013-h/79013-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11884 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="UTF-8"> +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> +<title>Spring fire | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <!-- TITLE="Spring fire" --> + <!-- AUTHOR="Vin Packer" --> + <!-- LANGUAGE="en" --> + <!-- PUBLISHER="Fawcett Publications" --> + <!-- DATE="1952" --> + <!-- COVER="images/cover.jpg" --> + +<style> + +body { margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%; } +div.frontmatter { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:30em; } +div.frontmatter.blurb { padding-top:2em; font-size:0.8em; } +div.frontmatter.blurb p { text-indent:0; margin-bottom:1em; } +div.frontmatter.blurb p.hdr{ text-align:center; font-size:1.25em; font-weight:bold; } +div.frontmatter .subt { text-indent:0; text-align:center; 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} +div.ads p.hdr3 { text-align:center; font-size:1em; font-weight:bold; } +div.ads div.booklist p { margin-left:2em; } +div.ads div.booklist p.book { text-align:left; font-size:1em; font-weight:bold; + margin-left:0; margin-bottom:0; } +div.ads p.gm { text-align:center; } +div.ads p.dealer { font-style:italic; } +div.ads div.coupon { border:1px solid black; padding:1em; } +div.ads p.attr { text-align:right; margin-right:1em; } +div.ads .i { font-style:italic; } +div.ads .c { text-align:center; } +div.ads .fl { float:left; clear:both; padding-right:1em; } + +a:link { text-decoration: none; color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); } +a:visited { text-decoration: none; color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); } +a:hover { text-decoration: underline; } +a:active { text-decoration: underline; } + +/* Transcriber's note */ +.trnote { font-size:0.8em; line-height:1.2em; background-color: #ccc; + color: #000; border: black 1px dotted; margin: 2em; padding: 1em; + page-break-before:always; margin-top:3em; } +.trnote p { text-indent:0; 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margin-left:2em; } + .x-ebookmaker p.seal { max-width:inherit; } + .x-ebookmaker div.ads { max-width:inherit; } + .x-ebookmaker div.ads .fl { float:left; } + .x-ebookmaker a.pagenum { display:none; } + .x-ebookmaker a.pagenum:after { display:none; } + .x-ebookmaker .trnote { margin:0; } + +</style> +</head> + + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79013 ***</div> + + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<div class="centerpic"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""></div> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter blurb chapter"> +<p class="hdr"> +Sorority House +</p> + +<p> +From far off Susan Mitchell could hear the sweet +voices of a fraternity serenading another sorority +house down the street. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned the light on and looked at the face +of the clock. It was eleven-thirty. She saw Leda’s +half-full package of cigarettes on the desk, and she +took one from the pack and lit it. +</p> + +<p> +It was taking Leda a long time. Mitch was numb +with torment, and the sheets on her bed were wrinkled +and halfway off the mattress from her perpetual +turning and moving as she waited. The ticking of +the tin clock on the dresser sounded frantic and +Mitch made the ticks come in three beats in her +mind—<em>Les-bi-an</em>, <em>Les-bi-an</em>, <em>tick-tick-tick</em>. The +thought foamed in Mitch’s brain and hurt her. She +did not know why she felt dirty when Leda told +her that she was a Lesbian. She thought she should +have felt happy and glad that they were two. But +she did not want to be one. +</p> + +<p> +Tomorrow, she decided, she would move out of +Tri Epsilon and into the dorm with Robin. If she +and Leda weren’t put out of the sorority, she would +leave anyway. But she knew she could not leave +Leda. “I love Leda,” she said softly to the darkness, +“even though we’re both that way. I wish she wasn’t +that way.” +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<p class="subt"> +A GOLD MEDAL ORIGINAL +</p> + +<h1 class="title"> +SPRING FIRE +</h1> + +<p class="aut"> +Vin Packer +</p> + +<div class="centerpic ornament"> +<img src="images/ornament.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<p class="pub"> +New York<br> +Gold Medal Books<br> +Fawcett Publications, Inc. +</p> + +<div class="centerpic medal"> +<img src="images/medal.jpg" alt=""></div> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter impressum chapter"> +<p> +Copyright 1952 by Fawcett Publications, Inc. +</p> + +<p class="runs"> +First Printing, February 1952<br> +Second Printing, August 1952<br> +Third Printing, May 1954<br> +Fourth Printing, March 1956<br> +Fifth Printing, July 1958 +</p> + +<p> +All rights reserved, including the right to +reproduce this book, or portions thereof. +</p> + +<p> +All characters in this book are +fictional and any resemblance to +persons living or dead is purely +coincidental. +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-1"> +<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a> +Chapter One +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +It was two-thirty in the afternoon, late September, +with the sun beating down the way it does then in the +Midwest, and the dust in the streets. The girl, Susan +Mitchell, was wearing a green linen suit that clung on +her large body heavily, a round white straw hat from +which short pieces of blonde hair hung limply, and +brown and white shoes with low heels that made her +long feet look longer. She was not pretty. She was not +lovely and dainty and pretty, but there was a comeliness +about her that suggested some inbred strength and grace. +It was in her face. It was in the color of her eyes—deep +blue like the ocean ’way out there, but quiet and still. It +was in the structure of her cheekbones, high and firm +coming down to pull her chin up. She walked that way, +too. She walked easy and sure. She was following College +Avenue down to where the main gate was, and the road +that led through the gate to the campus of Cranston University. +All around her there were signs in the windows +of bookstores and drugstores and dress shops and +bars and the signs said: “<span class="sc">Welcome Back C. U.</span>” +</p> + +<p> +The gate was open and the wide slate walks surrounding +the immense green lawn were dotted with boys and +girls, walking together in groups, sitting alone on +benches, standing thoughtfully in doorways, and waiting +wearily in long registration lines. Susan Mitchell had +registered two weeks ago. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have enough to think about during rush week,” +her father had promised, “without worrying about getting +yourself enrolled. We’ll do it early. Then you can +concentrate on impressing those sorority gals. Don’t be +<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a> +nervous, either. Remember, your father still loves you, no +matter what.” +</p> + +<p> +And so it was there again—his fear for her. His fear +that she was not good enough. Because he had not been. +He had worked hard, and not gone to college, and not +had luxuries, and not learned not to say “ain’t,” and +not anything. Until the war and the men came that day +and looked at the factory and talked with him and signed +papers and he was rich then. And then he was afraid. +</p> + +<p> +He had driven her from Kansas City to register, and +when she had finished, he had asked someone how to +get to “Greek Town,” and with him she had first seen it. +</p> + +<p> +“Greek Town” was the home of the sororities and fraternities +and it was magic over there, close to the stadium, +within walking distance of the campus, but not huddled +up in narrow streets the way the dorms and boardinghouses +were. It was magic, with street after street of +grand houses—brick, stucco, stone, and fresh white wooden +houses. Each one had a gold plaque with shining +Greek letters, and nearly all of them had spacious yards, +winding driveways, and huge white columns that stood +impressively, symbols of magnificence. Then she too had +felt a thin shiver of fear. +</p> + +<p> +Tomorrow she would go to the sorority houses to be +judged; but now as she walked on the campus she forgot +about that momentarily, and smelled the grass that +had been cut and watered, and it was good. The ivy, +crawling up along the walls of the building, was massive +and cooling, and the big trees made shade along the +path. She sat for a while on the rock bench there where +the breeze came along, and it was peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +A group of laughing girls passed, arms entwined, faces +glowing with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“... anyway,” one of them was saying, “it turned out +he was from St. Louis—Webster, in fact—and he knew +loads of kids I knew.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a> +“My God!” another shrieked. “Didn’t you tell him <em>I</em> +was from Webster?” +</p> + +<p> +Later Susan Mitchell walked back toward the gate and +the street leading to the hotel where she was staying. A +convertible whizzed by and kicked up clouds of the dust +that settled near the curb, and at the corner when it +turned, the tires squealed nervously. In the doorway of a +restaurant, a tall boy stood holding hands with a small, +brown-eyed girl whose hair was flaxen. “God,” he said, +“all summer I had you on my mind, Annie. No bull, I +thought about you all summer.” +</p> + +<p> +When Susan Mitchell reached the lobby of the hotel, +the low leather couches and chairs were filled with girls, +and several rows of luggage were lined up near the desk. +She asked for her key, wary of the arrogant, crooked-nosed +clerk who always yelled, as he did now. “Speak +up, girlie,” he said. “I ain’t deaf and I can’t read lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“Susan Mitchell,” the girl said louder. “Four-o-one.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed her the metal key with the wooden tab +attached and she hurried off to the waiting elevator. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God,” the uniformed pimple-faced boy said +when she stepped into the small box. “You girls! Up and +down all the damn day long! I never seen the likes of +this bunch. The sororities are welcome to you!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“The next name, girls,” Mother Nesselbush said, “is +Susan Mitchell.” +</p> + +<p> +At her feet, sitting on the wide tan rug, the members +of Tri Epsilon polished their nails, knitted, rubbed cold +cream into their skin, and rolled their hair up on rags and +iron curlers and bobby pins. Mother Nesselbush thumbed +through the papers on the card table in front of her. +She was a fat woman with a nervous twitch in her jowls +and short, squat legs. Twenty years ago she had been a +slim coed with long golden hair, a gay young face, and a +heart-shaped Tri Epsilon pin attached to her budding +<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a> +bosom. Five years ago, when J. Edman Nesselbush fell +dead, she returned to the Cranston campus and took over +the duties of the housemother at Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon. +Now she was a wide dowager with wiry gray hair and a +worn, wrinkled face. In place of the pin now, there was +a gravy stain from the noon meal slopped onto her +broad, lace-covered chest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” Mother Nessy began, “a little about this girl.” +</p> + +<p> +The information on Susan Mitchell had been obtained +by Edith Wellard Boynton, ’22. Mrs. Boynton relished +the task. She was a superior sleuth, and she would often +come from an assignment with copious notes on such intimate +details as the estimated income of the candidate’s +father; the color of the guest towels in the candidate’s +bathroom and the condition of said bathroom; the morals +of the candidate, the candidate’s mother, father, brother, +and sister; and ever important, the social prestige of the +candidate’s family in the community. Then she would +type up her notes and send them special delivery. +</p> + +<p> +Susan Mitchell’s report read: +</p> + +<div class="report"> +<p class="noindent"> +An absolute <em>must</em> for Tri Epsilon. The Mitchell girl +is 17. Her father is a widower and a millionaire. There +are no other children. The Mitchell girl owns a brilliant +red convertible, Buick, latest model. Edward +Mitchell belongs to Rotary, Seedmore Country Club, +Seedmore Business Club, and Seedmore P.T.A. Susan +has been educated in the best private schools. She is not +beautiful, but she is wholesome and a fine athlete. +Every room in the Mitchell home has wall-to-wall +carpeting. There are four bathrooms. No mortgages. +Edward Mitchell’s reputation is above reproach. They +are definitely nouveaux riches, but their social prestige +in Seedmore is tiptop. Susan has a fabulous wardrobe. +Kansas City Alum Association puts a stamp of approval +on this girl, and a definite “Yes! Yes! Yes!” +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a> +When Mother Nesselbush finished reading what Mrs. +Boynton had written, there was a sudden minute of +silence. Then Leda Taylor spoke up. +</p> + +<p> +“What if she’s a muscle-bound amazon? Do we have to +pledge the girl just because her father is worth a mint?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda Taylor did not have a father. Not a father she +knew. Jan, her mother, had raised Leda singlehanded, +with the help of her job as a dress designer and a good +stiff Martini. It had not been easy for Jan. As Leda grew +older, Jan’s age became more obvious to men and she +always had to say, “I had my baby when <em>I</em> was a baby, +really—I was just a baby when little Leda was born.” +Little Leda grew fast and fully and richly. She had long +black hair that shone like new coal, round green eyes, a +stubborn tilt to her chin, proud pear-shaped breasts that +pointed through her size 36 sweater, and long, graceful +legs. Jan had taught her never to say “Mother.” Leda said +“Jan.” She said, “Oh, God, Jan is getting higher than a +kite!” when they were all out on parties like that—Leda +and the men who clambered after Jan and Jan with her +glass raised and her voice growing shrill. Leda said, “Jan, +for the love of God, let me pick my own men. I don’t +want your castoffs,” when she was home in the summer +and Jan was always entertaining. Then in the fall, Leda +said, “Take it easy, Jan. Stay sober,” and the train moved +away, toward Cranston and college and the house. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nesselbush sighed and answered Leda. “This +is a pretty strong note, dear. You know our alums never +make their requests quite so adamant.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten Clark tapped her nails angrily on the top of the +glass coffee table. She was the official social chairman for +the sorority, the girl who was responsible for seeing that +Tri Eps dated fraternity men. Her motto was pasted up +over the mirror in the soft jade-green room where she +and Marybell Van Casey lived: “If he’s got a pin—he’s +in!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a> +Underneath these words, a penciled addition to the +rule read blithely: “Like Flynn!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nessy,” Kitten said, “so far on our list we have four +goon girls. Legacies. We <em>have</em> to take legacies, but we +don’t have to take Susan Mitchell! What did the K.C. +alums ever do for us?” +</p> + +<p> +Viola Nesselbush straightened herself, tugged harshly +at her corset, and leaned forward intimately. She +whispered in a rasping tone, one finger held forward +significantly. “Now listen, girls. Remember that new set +of silverware you all want for the house? The one with +the Tri Epsilon crest on it? Well, girls, if we pledge this +little girl, I think the K.C. alums will see to it that you +get that silverware. In fact, girls,” she added coyly, “I’ll +personally guarantee it.” +</p> + +<p> +A spontaneous round of applause rose from the gathering, +and the faces of the Tri Eps grinned approval. +</p> + +<p> +“She may be halfway attractive,” Marybell Van Casey +offered. “After all, just because she’s a sweat-socks is no +sign she’s utterly repulsive.” +</p> + +<p> +Casey’s voice was tinged with defiance. She was a major +in physical education, and all of her classes, with the +exception of English and vertebrate zo, took place in the +arid surroundings of the gymnasium. Her build was +heavy and muscular, but her face was pleasant and attractive +and she was pinned to a Delta Pi who played +baseball. +</p> + +<p> +The president of Tri Epsilon sorority rose gracefully +and stood beside the piano facing the group. She wore a +crisp pair of white shorts, a black halter, and a black velvet +ribbon in her hair. Her name was Marsha Holmes, +and there was a mild, poised quality about her that commanded +respect and admiration from her sorority sisters. +Whenever Marsha spoke, her gray eyes watched the individual +faces of her audience carefully, and her low +husky voice made her words sound wistful and honest. +<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a> +Marsha had learned much about people from her father, +the Reverend Thomas Holmes, and the serenity she wore +so easily had been practiced long years at church functions. +</p> + +<p> +“I think everyone agrees,” she said calmly, “that Susan +Mitchell is excellent Tri Epsilon material. The purpose +of a sorority is to help a girl grow, and if Susan needs our +help, it will be our privilege to give it to her. Let’s all +make a special effort to show Susan that Tri Epsilon is a +friendly house—the kind of house that she would be +proud to live in.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment there was a holy stillness. Leda blew a +cloud of smoke up into the air in tiny rings. She said, +“Amen!” She said, “Amen and hail the new Christ +child!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The following morning, a few minutes before the taxis +arrived with the rushees, Mother Nesselbush gave the +final instructions. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, girls, the phonograph is your signal to +dance with one of the rushees. Don’t, for heaven’s sake, +girls, don’t leave a girl without a partner. You’ll be able +to tell a whole lot about a rushee by dancing with her. +Notice how she dances, and in speaking to her, try your +best to determine whether she would make a satisfactory +Tri Ep. We know most of the facts on these girls, but it’s +up to you to verify them. And one more thing. In regard +to the Mitchell girl—be patient. She may not look like a +Tri Ep, but girls, I’m to the point where I’ll insist that +she be one. Now—go to it, and good luck!” +</p> + +<p> +Susan Mitchell arrived in the first taxi along with four +other rushees. Beside them she looked like a great hound +dog that had been forced to romp with a select group of +dachshunds, Pekinese, and toy poodles. Her manner was +sprightly and buoyant, and she lacked the poised reserve +of the others who walked with her up the long path to +<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a> +the marble steps, where Kitten Clark waited to greet +them. She was smiling when her hand caught Kitten’s, +and her voice was too impetuous and ingenuous. “Hi,” +she said. “Hot, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten glanced hastily at the name tag. She should have +known. The dimples came in her cheeks, and her hand +guided Susan lovingly toward Mother Nesselbush. “This +is Susan Mitchell,” Kitten said. “Mother Nessy will introduce +you to the girls.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nesselbush’s fat fingers reached for Susan’s +arm, and as she led her through the porch door to the +living room she exclaimed, “What a lovely name! Susan! +Or Sue? Which one do you like best?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most folks call me Mitch,” the girl answered, and +Mother Nessy said, “That’s a dar-ling name! Mitch!” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha Holmes interpreted Nessy’s wink correctly. +She rushed forward immediately and checked the name +tag. Then she sat beside Susan Mitchell on the divan and +she talked in that mellow, soft voice. She brought the +girl cool mint punch and round jelly cookies, and she +punctuated every sentence with “Mitch.” Through the +house she guided the girl, showing her the neat, pastel-colored +rooms, the grand tile bathroom with the glass +shower and tub stalls, the spotless white kitchen, the cellar +with the washing machines and dryers and irons, and +the closed-off section known as The Den, where Tri Eps +brought their dates for ping-pong and Cokes. Soon Kitten +Clark finished greeting the rushees and joined the entourage, +and Marybell Van Casey followed along, and +Jane Bell, the pert, efficient rush chairman, and they +were all smiling and saying, “Do you like it, Mitch?”, +“Wait till you see this, Mitch,” and “You are going to +come back, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt confident and proud. She sat at the bridge +table with the Tri Eps flocking to her, and her eyes saw +the wretched lanky girl in the corner near the window, +<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a> +alone, fumbling frantically with her purse, feigning an +interest in its contents, ignored by the smooth busy figures +in white. Another girl in a creamy yellow suit enjoyed +the same attention Mitch received, the white formals +reaching to light her cigarettes, bending to smile +benignly, kneeling adoringly at her feet as she sat there +in the stuffed chair and let the cool breeze from the porch +ruffle her hair lightly. There was a fat girl in a red suit +standing awkwardly with Mother Nesselbush in the doorway +of the room, not speaking, looking fearfully at the +assembly. A small, pug-nosed rushee with a flip feathered +hat whispered fervently to two Tri Eps. Mitch saw them +all, hearing the voices talking to her on all sides, answering +and listening and watching until her eye rested on a +girl standing near the piano. The girl was beautiful. Her +white gown began just above her breasts and came in +tight at her waist and full down to her ankles, where it +ended and allowed spike-heeled silver shoes to glisten +clean and clear. She was picking up records from a stack +there on the top of the piano, reading the labels, and +dividing them into two piles. When she felt Mitch’s fixed +look, she answered it and Mitch grinned, looking back +quickly at Kitten, who was explaining how the Tri Epsilon +house had been redecorated over the summer. For +several minutes Mitch knew that the girl was staring at +her now, and a warm flush rose to her face. There was +something about the girl. She had never seen her before, +but there was something familiar in that fast second +when they had looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment the phonograph was turned on, and +throughout the room girls paired off and moved to the +center of the floor. Kitten grabbed Mitch’s hand. “Do you +like to dance?” she asked, pulling her forward. Mitch +nodded, and as they danced, Kitten held her off so that +she could talk and watch Mitch’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like Tri Epsilon?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a> +“Fine,” Mitch told her, and naïvely, “but of course, I +haven’t been to the other houses yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten said, “You will come back, won’t you, Mitch? +We all hope you’ll save your most important dates for us. +Try to save two and eight.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know there was a difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” Kitten smiled and pressed Mitch’s hand. “There +certainly is. Will you try?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said she would. At the hotel she had heard the +rushees talk ecstatically about the Tri Eps. They were +rated tops nationally, and the Cranston chapter was the +leading sorority on the college campus. A hot stir of +pleasure enveloped Mitch. She had not known the fear +her father had known for her when she had thought of +rush week, but there was always the subconscious worry +that she might be too uncut and plain for sorority sophisticates. +During the summer the college catalogues and +booklets had come through the mail, and she had flicked +through the pages, seeing the pictures of debonair, glamorous +young people her own age. But not like her. Mitch +knew that then—and again when Kitten talked to her +and Marsha walked with her, and Marybell Van Casey +sat beside her and smoked long cigarettes and talked +about tennis and swimming and things Mitch understood. +Still different, all of them. Mitch was aware of that +fact, but she no longer pondered the differences. They +liked her anyway. They wanted her to join Epsilon Epsilon +Epsilon. +</p> + +<p> +Jane Bell danced with Mitch. Casey. Kitten again. +Marsha. The lilting lyrics of “Temptation” filled the +room. Suddenly Mitch felt a wave of uncanny turbulence, +relieved then when she turned and saw the girl standing +next to her. The beautiful girl who had stood at the +piano. Marsha laughed and said, “Mitch, I don’t think +you’ve met Leda Taylor.” +</p> + +<p> +Susan Mitchell was taller than Leda Taylor. Leda held +<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a> +her and led her along the waxed floor. Mitch was conscious +of her own breathing, coming in gasps and causing +her chest to heave uncomfortably against Leda’s. She +smelled the faint pungent perfume that Leda wore, and +her hand on Leda’s bare shoulder was hot and rough. +The words to the song sounded loud in her ears, and they +embarrassed her, dancing to them close to this girl. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’re Susan Mitchell,” the girl said, and Mitch +could not hear her own answer. She did not talk for those +minutes when they were together before the music ended, +and Leda Taylor did not talk again. When it was over, +a note sounded on the piano, and Marsha Holmes +hummed the note. +</p> + +<p> +“Form the loving circle,” Marsha said. “Join hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda grasped Mitch’s hand tightly. As the Tri Eps +hummed the melody, there was a slow swaying motion +in the circle of girls, and when the words came, Mitch +could feel Leda’s eyes on her. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Love you, I love you,</p> + <p class="verse">Come be a Tri Ep girl.</p> + <p class="verse">Love you, I love you,</p> + <p class="verse">Come be an Ep-si-lon pearl.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Mitch looked down at Leda and then away toward the +French doors and the drapes and the sun outside. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Take my hand and hold it, dear,</p> + <p class="verse">Let me make my message clear.</p> + <p class="verse">Love you, I love you,</p> + <p class="verse">Come be a Tri Ep girl.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I suppose,” Leda said when the song was finished, +“that you’ll come back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see you then,” Leda said. She said, “I’ll see you +<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a> +then,” and glided away while Mother Nessy ran forward +to hug Mitch. “The taxis are waiting, dear,” she told +Mitch, “and we have to hurry you all away. Remember, +Susan, Tri Epsilon is counting on you. We hope you’re +counting on Tri Epsilon.” +</p> + +<p> +Past Kitten Clark and Marsha, Marybell and Jane, +their “Come backs” echoing in her ears, Mitch felt the +sun on her arms, heard the nervous honking of the cabs’ +horns, and remembered only the green color of Leda’s +eyes, and the four words, “I’ll see you then.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +That evening Marsha looked up from the stuffed peppers +and the tossed salad in front of her. “I noticed you +were Susan Mitchell’s partner in the loving circle this +morning,” she said to Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t my fault. I danced with her and it happened +to be the last dance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what did you think of her?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda toyed with her crust of bread, spreading the butter +thickly around the edges and on the sides. “We need +the silverware,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“But the girl has possibilities, too. I mean, she certainly +isn’t backward or shy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything about the girl. I had one dance +with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten Clark sat opposite Marsha. She clinked her fork +on her plate and said, “Well, believe me, if she were anyone +but Edward Mitchell’s daughter, she’d get a nice, +fat, round blackball from yours truly. She’s hickey! I +mean, absolutely hickey!” +</p> + +<p> +“But she is Edward Mitchell’s daughter,” Marsha +broke in, “and let’s all of us remember that. The girl +hasn’t pledged yet, you know. Other houses will be after +her too.” +</p> + +<p> +Casey said, “She says she swims. We could use her on +the intramural swimming team.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a> +“You’ll find a way to <em>use</em> her,” Leda said. “I’m not +worried about that.” +</p> + +<p> +After she said it, she bit hard into the bread and the +layers of butter. Casey’s eyes flashed and she spurted out +angry words. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. +“Since when have you cared a damn whether +a girl got an even break in this sorority? You throw a +blackball around at the drop of a hat, and all of a sudden +you’re so damned self-righteous. This is a new twist.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda knew it. She pushed her plate away and stood +up. “Must be the heat,” she said. “I don’t care a hoot +about Mitchell. She can go back to Seedmore for all I +care. Right now, lover boy is waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran to the side door, to the tall brown-haired boy +with the pipe jutting from his jaw, and the sweater that +said Sigma Delta, and she murmured, “Jakie,” and moved +close to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You finished fast,” he said. “Wanna walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Jake-O.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can pick up some beer in Campus Town. Then +wanna walk back out—to the stadium?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You always do. That’s why you’re my baby. Because +you always do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s hurry, Jake.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The long red car waited at the corner for the light to +be green, and Mitch sat behind the wheel with Fredna +Loughead in the front seat beside her. She had met Fredna +at the hotel. Fredna was trying to convince her that +Delta Rho was a better house than Tri Ep. +</p> + +<p> +“They liked you too, Mitch,” she said, “and I know +they’ll ask me. Why don’t you join with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I can’t make up my mind. All of them +were so wonderful to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Delta Rhos aren’t snobs, either.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a> +The light went green and Mitch saw them. They were +standing at the curb waiting. Leda Taylor looked up. +There was a brief flicker of recognition, a half-smile. +Mitch grinned broadly this time and waved, but Leda +took the boy’s arm and turned to talk with him. The car +moved away and Mitch watched them as long as she +could through her mirror. +</p> + +<p> +“Some buggy,” Jake said. “Rushee?” +</p> + +<p> +“A potential Tri Ep. Father’s a millionaire.” +</p> + +<p> +“She gonna be your roommate?” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>My</em> roommate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you gals have to room with a pledge. I just +thought you might pick a pledge with a nice red convertible.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda laughed. She said, “Maybe that’s an idea.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Back in the hotel room, Mitch finished unpacking +some of her clothes. She hung them up and brushed them +off, and when she was through, she slipped into her +blue-striped pajamas and sat on the bed hugging her +knees. She said, “Tri Epsilon,” aloud, and then, “Delta +Rho.” She reached over to the night table, where the +leather-bound books rested. On the cover of one, there +was a picture of the huge house with the six white columns +and the marble steps leading up to the door. The +words underneath read simply: “Tri Epsilon is a friendly +house.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she stared at it dreamily, and then, turning +the page, she saw the clear full-length picture of Leda +Taylor in the black dress wearing the crested crown, +smiling. Mitch’s fingers moved delicately down the picture +as though she were touching a live object, and they +stopped there at the words printed in bold blue letters. +They said: “Where every girl’s a queen.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-2"> +<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a> +Chapter Two +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +“Put your stuff in the top drawers,” Leda told Mitch. +“I don’t mind bending down to get mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch was used to new roommates and new surroundings +and the strange formalities attached to this form of +orientation. For six years she had attended boarding +schools, and each year it was smoother and less uncomfortable. +The first year she had hovered behind a closet +door, too shy to undress in front of the girl with whom +she shared the room. She had bolted the bathroom doors, +and picked odd hours to do her grooming. Even her underclothes +had been a source of embarrassment, and she +had brought them to her room wet from their washing in +the dorm sink, and hung them surreptitiously along the +radiator near her bed. In time she had developed an unabashed +nonchalance toward these matters and they no +longer concerned her. But now, in Leda’s presence, the +casualness fell away, and Mitch found the old inhibitions +again. She found that it was hard to talk to Leda, too, +because she wanted to so badly. She wanted to remember +the glib, natural responses that came so readily with +others, but she could not. +</p> + +<p> +“Tonight the pledges are supposed to go on blind +dates,” Leda said. “You know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Want to get out of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“By going out with a friend of Jake’s. He’s a fraternity +brother. We’d double-date. It’s O.K. with Kitten so long +as you’re with a fraternity man.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “I’d like that, I guess.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a> +She knew what it would be like if Leda were along. She +knew that she would forget how to act and what to say +and that she would laugh too loud and too often. But she +did not want to go on a date alone with a stranger, either. +</p> + +<p> +“Like men, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, they’re all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, really like them?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch’s lips were tired from the painful grins she had +been stretching them into all day. Leda laughed. “Never +mind,” she said. “You’ll learn. I used to think you just +had to lie there and that was it. Then I learned better.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch pulled nervously at the string of pearls around +her neck. Her face flushed scarlet. Leda noticed. “You’ll +have to get used to me, Mitch. I believe in being frank.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mind,” Mitch answered. “I guess I’m kind of +dumb.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all dumb at first. But don’t get fooled by some +of them that play dumb. My God, to listen to this bunch, +you’d think they were all virgins. But take it from me, +most of them have had it. You ever fool around?” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I don’t know too many fellows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever been kissed—hard?” +</p> + +<p> +“A few times, I guess.” The pearls snapped then and +rolled onto the floor. Mitch jumped down to chase them +and Leda stopped one with her foot. “Couple of them +under the desk,” she said. “God! Never been kissed more +than a few times. I started when I was six. Then I used +to play doctor out in back of my house. God!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch did not answer. Her hands felt huge as she +groped for the tiny, round pearls, and bending down +there before Leda, she felt like an immense malformed +giant. She was remembering how many other times she +had heard references to sex, behind locked bedroom +doors in boarding school, interspersed with thick laughter +and raised eyebrows, and hands held at the mouth in +gestures of awe and excitement. But now.... +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a> +“You’ll grow up in college,” her father had said. “You’ll +be a real lady when you come home.” She wondered +vaguely what her mother had been like, and if she were +a real lady, and how she would have told her about men +and women and the things they did together. She thought +of Billy Erickson—the day in the bushes when he had +showed it to her. The snake, she had called it to herself. +The snake that men have. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have fun tonight,” Leda said. “You’ll like Bud +Roberts. That’s Jake’s friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch put the pearls in a box and sat awkwardly on +the bed beside Leda. “I hope he likes me. You see, I’m not +too used to men. In the other schools, I didn’t see many. +You know—rules and all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it! Look, we’re going to buy some beer and +get out on the Creek Road and just take life easy. You’ll +like Bud. He’s no movie star, but he gets around plenty. +He’s Sig Delt president. Say, what about your car? We +<em>could</em> walk, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” Mitch said. “Might as well take it. Only I don’t +like to drive at night very well. Not in a strange city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can Jake drive? He’s a peach on the roads. Careful +as anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch hesitated. Then she agreed. +</p> + +<p> +Leda pulled her sweater up over her head and loosened +her bra. “Scratch my back, will you, kid?” she said. “God, +I’m tired.” She flopped on the bed, face down. +</p> + +<p> +Timidly Mitch’s hands reached over and rubbed her +shoulders, and with her eyes fixed half shyly on Leda’s +body, she recalled doing this before—a hundred times—but +never so fearfully as now with Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“Ummm. That’s nice. Your hands are wonderful.” +</p> + +<p> +For long minutes Leda let them run up and down her +back. Susan Mitchell was an enigma. There was strength +and force and power in her, queerly harnessed and +checked, Leda thought. If it should be released, she would +<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a> +be stronger. Masterful. There had been a hint of this in +her look that first day. It was the kind of look that an old +acquaintance gives another, in a crowd where no one is +aware that the two have known each other a long time. +Leda balked at her own thoughts. This tall child was +naïve and uncomplicated, she scoffed inwardly, and there +was no reason to be wary. Suddenly, on an impulse, Leda +rolled over and lay with her breasts pushed up toward +Mitch’s hands. The girl jerked her hands away quickly +and stood up. +</p> + +<p> +“F-f-feel better?” She forced the words out. +</p> + +<p> +Leda stretched luxuriously. “Mitch, honey,” she said, +“look in the left closet and see if my yellow blouse is +there. The one with the buttons down the back.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned toward the door to the closet and opened +it, grateful for this sanctum. She stood there moving the +hangers down the rack. <em>I used to think you just had to lie +there and that was it.</em> +</p> + +<p> +“See it, honey?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch answered, not looking at the color of the +clothes. “I don’t see anything at all.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Bud Roberts was a straight, narrow boy with a long +nose and a square jaw. A cigarette hung loosely from his +mouth, and as they rode along in the back of Mitch’s car, +he held his hands firmly, cracking his knuckles in regular, +even movements. Mitch sat beside him, smoothing her +skirt and glancing up at him now and then, searching +frantically for something to say. The radio blared forth +from the front seat, where Leda leaned blissfully on +Jake’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I love to ride along like this,” Mitch managed to say. +“It’s so cool and everything,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +They turned down a dirt road and drove fast around +the sharp corners and Mitch fell against Bud Roberts. +“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a> +He had not said anything beyond “Hi” since they +started on their evening. He had simply said, “Hi,” and +then they had climbed into the car and he had not said +another word. Mitch tried to pretend that the silence +was natural and she hummed a bit from one of the songs +the Tri Eps had sung at dinner. The radio was noisy and +she could not hear her own humming, but it made her +feel better. She thought of Leda and how beautiful she +was, and she felt a warm glow in her stomach when she +remembered the way Leda had turned on her back that +afternoon, and how lovely she had been. At her feet, in +the car, the beer bottles rattled and she remembered how +she hated the taste of beer. A slow panic mounted inside +her as she imagined the hours ahead with the beer and +the boy who did not talk. The panic was edged with +anger and resentment. +</p> + +<p> +When the car stopped and Jake called, “All out!” she +was sick inside where a drummer beat fast against her +breast, and dull loneliness gnawed there. +</p> + +<p> +Bud Roberts caught the blanket that Jake tossed at +him. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going on up ahead,” he said, and Leda called +out, “See you later, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stood there while Bud spread the blanket a few +feet from the car. He was whistling now, but there was +no tune—just whistling with no order to the notes. Walking +back to the car, he picked up the sack from the back +seat and set it down by the blanket. Then he took a bottle +opener from his shirt pocket and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“Like beer?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not too well. I’m not used to it.” +</p> + +<p> +With a flip of his wrist, he sprung the cap and the +white foam bubbled out toward the top of the bottle. He +held it up to Mitch and said, “Here.” He opened another +for himself and took a long swig. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch sat down beside him and tasted the cold beer +<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a> +mincingly. It tasted bitter and sour. She coughed and +said, “I haven’t had any in a long time.” Bud grunted +and drank some more. He finished and reached for another +bottle. “Through?” he asked, and Mitch shook her +head. She sat quietly, wishing that Leda had not gone off +with Jake, indignant that they had left her alone with +Bud. +</p> + +<p> +The silence was nervous and anticipating. After a +while he reached over and pulled her down beside him +there on the blanket. His mouth came on hers and she +could feel the roughness of his beard. At first she tried to +push him back and she struggled desperately. Then she +let him kiss her. <em>Ever been kissed—hard?</em> +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a cold baby,” Bud Roberts muttered in her +ear. “That’s all right. I like them cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone,” Mitch said. “Will you leave me +alone?” +</p> + +<p> +He sat up and reached for the full bottle of beer that +was Mitch’s. He handed it to her and watched her swallow. +In the darkness he could not see the tears that stung +her eyes from the harsh taste of the beer. He waited and +she took another swallow. She did not want to kiss him. +</p> + +<p> +“Cigarette?” he said, passing her the pack. +</p> + +<p> +She took one from him and let him light it. It would +pass time. The smoke tickled her nose and she began to +sneeze. Bud drank more beer and whistled nonchalantly, +watching her as he handed her another bottle. The taste +was like water now. +</p> + +<p> +“Think you’re going to like smoking?” Bud said, grinning +at her. +</p> + +<p> +The end of her cigarette was wet and soggy and she +stubbed it out on the ground. She said, “I’ve smoked +before.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed and pulled her down again, and for another +long minute she lay there impassively while his +mouth pressed against hers, wet and hard. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a> +“Take your coat off,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get it off. What’s the matter? Rule against taking +your coat off? I’m not going to undress you.” +</p> + +<p> +His hands worked on the buttons, and in a moment he +was helping her out of it. The beer made her head swim +and she did not care. He put her coat beside his own, +and then he opened more beer, passing her another. It +was smooth going down and she was grateful that he had +not pushed her back again. +</p> + +<p> +“How old are you?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Seventeen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jail bait, huh?” He laughed and reached over to touch +her arm. +</p> + +<p> +“What does that mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Means I’m not supposed to do this,” he said, his hand +patting her below the stomach. +</p> + +<p> +She moved away. “Stop it, will you? Please!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I was explaining.” He laughed again. +“That I’d have to stop. Don’t be so jumpy. You’re doing +a regular dance over there. I’m not going to hurt you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t touch me, then,” she told him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry so much, baby.... Tell me, how do +you like rooming with Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +She was glad that he was going to talk. She felt better +and less restless as he lay back, his arms behind his head, +his legs crossed lazily. +</p> + +<p> +“I like her,” she said. “She’s been wonderful to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“She tell you much about Jake and her?” +</p> + +<p> +“What would she tell me? Just that she likes him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Likes!” He hooted and then he said, “Yeah—yeah,” +slow, and then, “Yeah, maybe she does only like him. +Funny girl. She always has eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s always looking around. You know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Mitch said, not knowing at all. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a> +“Drink some more of that beer,” he said. “We’re wasting +good iced beer.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know, I like beer O.K. now,” Mitch said with a +frail semblance of excitement. “It’s not bad at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Here—rest your head.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised himself to a sitting position and spread his +legs apart. He patted his chest lightly and said, “Here, +baby—rest your head here. We’ll talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch moved over and put her head on his chest, a +hand resting on either knee. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you’re so tall,” she confided. “I’m so tall myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeah,” he said. “You’re a long-legged gal, all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you talk coming up in the car? I was +afraid you’d lost your tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t,” he said. “I just wanted to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“About what?” Mitch began to feel comfortable and +easy with him. “What did you think about?” +</p> + +<p> +His hands reached up and cupped her breasts quickly, +and his knees held her in. “About this,” he said, reaching +one hand up to the blouse and down to her slip and inside +touching her flesh. He began to rub her breasts as +she wiggled to be free. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch whimpered slowly and softly and she could feel +him moving around and forcing her back on the blanket +and the tears came fast then. She was dizzy and exhausted +and she could not pull herself up. Fighting desperately +with him, she could not stop his hands from pulling her +skirt up. A thin wail escaped from her mouth and she +began to heighten it to a loud moaning sound. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up,” he snapped. “Shut up!” +</p> + +<p> +Her moaning increased and some of the lost strength +returned so that she kicked him and sent him back away +from her. He stood up and glared down. “Mamma tell +you not to?” he said angrily. “Mamma tell you sex is +dirty?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a> +She began to cry hard, and sitting there sobbing, she +did not listen to his words. For a long time she stayed like +that, listening to him take the caps off the bottles, light +cigarettes, and mumble dull words to her. She could hear +him say that he was sorry and she had better not cry because +Jake and Leda would be back, and then she could +hear him curse and swallow the beer and whistle the way +he whistled. +</p> + +<p> +There were voices in the distance, ringing laughter, +and the sound of them coming. She put her coat on and +got up while Bud began folding the blanket. +</p> + +<p> +Leda came down the fields ahead of Jake, running happily +while he followed. “Mitch and Bud,” she shouted, +“how goes the mad twosome?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “Hi, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +Bud reverted to his old mood of sullen silence as he +loaded the blankets in the car and gathered the empty +bottles together. Jake helped him and Leda jumped in +the front seat, yawning and saying sleepily, “Better hurry. +We’ll be out after hours.” +</p> + +<p> +On the way home, after they had come off the dirt road +and gone onto the highway, Jake stopped the car. Leda +stood beside Mitch while she vomited. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be O.K.,” she promised. “I used to get sick on +beer myself. You’ll get used to it, honey.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The next morning, after breakfast, Mitch waited for +Marsha Holmes, as she had been told to do. The president’s +suite consisted of three rooms. There was the bedroom, +the study room, and the meeting room, all of them +attractively furnished with low couches and triangular +lamps and small square tables. Mitch sat in the meeting +room, thumbing through the magazines on the table in +front of her. She stopped at one titled “The Epsilon.” +Inside, the columns were devoted to news from chapters +of Tri Epsilon throughout the country. Mitch’s eye +<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a> +caught the printing, “Gamma Pi Chapter, Cranston University.” +</p> + +<div class="note"> +<p class="noindent"> +Gamma Pi Tri Eps are looking forward to a year bustling +with excitement. Last year, you remember, they +received many honors. For the second year in a row, +glamorous Leda Taylor, a Tri Epsilon junior, was +voted campus queen. Good luck this year, Leda, and +may you cap all awards again for the name of Epsilon +Epsilon Epsilon. +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“No one can deny it,” a voice said behind Mitch, “Leda +is a beautiful girl.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned and faced Marsha. “A very beautiful +girl,” Marsha continued. “Do you like rooming with her, +Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do. She’s been swell to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you have a good time last night? You went out +with Bud Roberts, didn’t you? And Leda and Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did. I’m sorry we were late. It was my fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your fault, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I got sick coming back. We had to stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see.” Marsha thought for a moment, her hands +folded demurely, and then she sat down beside Mitch. +“Look, Susan, I hate to be the bossy president that starts +right in advising pledges, but remember something for +me, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, Marsha.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda has many ideas that some of us—that <em>I</em> don’t +agree with. If there are any that you don’t agree with, will +you come and talk to <em>me</em> about them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will. I didn’t like my date too well, but I +shouldn’t have had all that beer. I guess I’m old enough +to take care of myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say any more, Mitch. I just want you to know +that I’m here to help the pledges. I don’t think Leda was +<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a> +wise to have you date Bud Roberts during blind-date +week. You see, Kitten, our social chairman, tries very hard +to arrange a suitable date for each pledge. Someone your +own age—usually a fraternity pledge who is as new to +college as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” Mitch said. “I didn’t understand. Leda said it +would be all right so long as Bud was a fraternity man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will go along on a blind date tonight, won’t you, +Mitch? One of Kitten’s. All the other pledges are enjoying +it tremendously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Mitch answered, “I will. I’m sorry about last +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch wandered out of the suite down the stairs to the +porch, where some of the girls were playing bridge. She +recognized a few of them as pledges, because they wore +the pink and blue ribbons too, but she did not know +them. +</p> + +<p> +“... and so I told him,” a short girl with jewel-studded +rims on her large-framed glasses was saying, “that +as far as I was concerned, he was the blindest date I’d +ever had.” +</p> + +<p> +“Robin!” Marybell Van Casey looked horrified. “He +was an Omega Phi. They’re a big fraternity, sweetie, and +Tri Ep can’t afford to run around insulting their pledges. +You be careful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t care. I hate those big oafs that maul you +around as though you were a punching bag. I just won’t +take it.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tense silence. Marybell looked across the +table significantly at Kitten Clark. Robin was due for a +conference with the social chairman. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Mitch sat next to Robin Maurer at the pledge meeting +that afternoon. Jane Bell was the pledge director. She +had an extensive background in directing and leading +and counseling. In grammar school she had been the +<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a> +monitor in the cloakroom, and later, a junior counselor +at a summer camp for girls. She was a Texan and an +Army brat, and her speech was peppered with such +phrases as “team spirit,” “pulling together,” “giving it all +we’ve got,” and “sticking in there.” Whenever a date gave +Jane trouble toward the end of an evening, Jane always +looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Now, look—don’t +get out of line, son!” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess that’s all. How about you girls? Any questions?” +</p> + +<p> +A girl in a plaid dress raised her hand. “Is it true,” she +asked, “that we can only date fraternity men?” +</p> + +<p> +Jane cleared her throat and looked treacherously serious. +“That question always comes up among new pledges. +Well, girls, all I can say is that you have joined a sorority +because you have found that you’re in with a gang you +can be mighty proud of. Most men join fraternities for +the same reason. They want to pick a bunch that they +know have high standards and high ideals. Now, to my +way of thinking, it’s only logical to want to date that kind +of guy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” the girl persisted, “may we date an independent +if we find that his standards are high and—” She stopped +and wrung her hands and blurted out finally, “My boy +friend is an independent. He can’t af-afford a fraternity.” +</p> + +<p> +Jane said, “I’ll talk to you after the meeting. We’ll have +a chat about it, O.K.?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute,” Robin said, getting up and resting +her hand on the large oak table before her. “I think this +is pretty silly. You mean to tell me we have to ask <em>you</em> +before we can date an independent?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a stir among the gathering and Jane Bell +rapped for order. “You can go out with independents if +you want—on weekdays. Week ends, we’d prefer you to +be with fraternity men.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a laugh!” Robin exclaimed. “You’re serious!” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a> +Anger swept through the Texan’s whole body and settled +in her eyes, black as night. “That’s a demerit for you, +Robin Maurer,” she thundered, “and it’ll be wise for you +to learn how to talk to an active member of Tri Epsilon.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin turned and walked from the room after she said, +“Hooray for the team spirit we’ve all got! Three big +cheers for our team spirit!” +</p> + +<p> +It was difficult for Jane to continue. She uttered a few +remarks about hours on week ends, and special permission +for out-of-town week ends. Then she assigned the +pledge lesson (learn the first three songs in the songbook, +and the names of the official alumnae officers) and dismissed +the group. She bounded off in the direction of the +president’s suite. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Here you are,” Leda said, pulling Mitch aside as she +came from the Pledge Room. “I’ve been looking for you. +How about my fixing you up tonight with a date? Not +Bud Roberts, spare your soul, but someone else.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked toward the stairs while Mitch explained +that Marsha had advised her to take a blind date. +</p> + +<p> +“Marsha!” Leda cried. “She’s from hunger, honey. No +kidding. You can do what you want as long as he’s a +fraternity boy. Never mind Kitten’s blind dates. Look, +I’m sorry Roberts was such a mess. I never should have +left you, kid. Tonight it’ll be different.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’d better do what Marsha asked. All the other +pledges are. You know—I don’t want to be an exception.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda put her arm around Mitch. “I understand, +honey,” she said. “I shouldn’t have suggested it. Let’s go +upstairs and catch thirty winks before dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin Maurer was waiting outside Marsha’s door on +the second floor when Mitch and Leda passed by. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going in for my fifty lashes,” she said to Mitch. +“Care to join me?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch grinned. She liked Robin. She admired the way +<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a> +Robin spoke up and said what she thought. What Mitch +thought, too. +</p> + +<p> +“That kid’s a little too cocky,” Leda commented. +“She’d better tone down if she wants to keep those ribbons.” +</p> + +<p> +“What happens when you get a demerit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you get some horrible duty like taking Nessy to a +movie on a Sunday afternoon. Sometimes to church too.” +Leda sighed. “Nessy is a peach, really, but who wants to +cart her around?” +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the room, Leda flopped down and +kicked off her loafers. “Say, honey,” she said, “is everything +going O.K. with you? I mean, I don’t want you to +be a stranger around here too much longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t feel like one,” Mitch said. “Sometimes I just +don’t catch on right away.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t say much, that’s why I wondered. When +you want to unload, just open up, Mitch. That’s what +I’m here for.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch kicked her shoes off and stretched out on the +bed. “I used to talk a lot in boarding school. College is +different. The girls are more grown up, and I’m not +used to talking about dates and boys and stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll get used to it.... Your mother is dead, isn’t +she, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. When I was real young.” +</p> + +<p> +Watching the girl lie there, Leda had an odd feeling, +like that of a protector who must guard an object carefully, +less to keep it from harm than to keep it as a possession. +The word “mother” floated around there somewhere +and Leda could not catch it and stop it like that, +so it rested with her momentarily. In that moment her +breasts felt hard and bothersome. Mother, she thought, +and seeing Jan off there again, she felt the sharp edge of +hatred gnawing into her boredom, inside where she was +thinking now for that very slow minute. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Downstairs in the president’s suite, Marsha talked to +Robin. +</p> + +<p> +“... because if everyone had her own way, Robin, we +wouldn’t be a unified group. There have to be rules.” +</p> + +<p> +“But rules like that are crazy. I never heard of dating +only boys who belong to fraternities. Gee, next week +when classes start, I’ll meet a lot of independents. It’s +worse than racial prejudice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Robin, tell me something. Why do you want to join +a sorority?” +</p> + +<p> +“My mother wants me to. She never had the money +when she was in college. I guess she always wanted to +make up for it by having me belong.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha walked toward the window and watched the +trees in the yard near the side of the house. “If you don’t +believe in all that a sorority does,” she said, “one way to +fight is to fight from the inside—where the rules and +regulations are being made. Sometimes it takes a while. +But there are good things about living here like this, and +you can’t fight effectively if you don’t keep those good +points in mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin looked up at her and smiled. “Maybe you’re +right,” she said. “I’m a pretty clumsy rebel.” +</p> + +<p> +As she left the suite and passed the phone in the hall, +it rang shrilly and she lifted the arm from the cradle. It +was for Kitten Clark, and reaching up for the buzzer on +the left of the booth, she found the name and pushed the +tiny button. A voice called down, “Got it on three. Hang +up on two, please.” Robin walked past a room where +some pledges were gathered, learning the words to the +Tri Ep song. “Tri Epsilon is a friendly house where every +girl’s a queen,” they sang in close, harmonic tones, raising +their voices slightly for the next line: “And all the frat +men love her.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-3"> +<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a> +Chapter Three +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +“... and this,” Kitten Clark said, “is Susan Mitchell.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stepped forward there in the front hall of the +Tri Ep house and shook hands with Dirk Henry. He was +a plump, short person, and walking along beside him, +Mitch felt like a large wire-drawn giraffe. When they +reached the front steps, he said, “Clive’s car is down the +street. We’re going to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“What fraternity are you in?” Mitch asked. “Kitten +never even told me what house you were from.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the jacket to his coat and displayed a plain +oval-shaped silver pin, fixed to the pocket of his shirt. +“Recognize it?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stammered. “I’m afraid I’m not too good at +spotting them yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sigma Delta,” he said proudly. “It’s just the pledge +pin. That’s why you didn’t recognize it. Here’s the car.” +</p> + +<p> +Bud Roberts was president of Sig Delt. Would he be +at the party? The thought lost its force when Dirk opened +the door, and Mitch saw Robin Maurer seated in front +with Clive. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi, Mitch,” she cried. “Want you to meet Clive McKenzie, +my unlucky blind date for the evening.” +</p> + +<p> +They drove for a few blocks until they reached a palatial +two-story brick house. Oak trees towered self-consciously +over the entrance and cast shadows on the Greek +letters ΣΔ, outlined in sparkling white lights. +</p> + +<p> +As they piled out of the car and went up the walk, there +was a sweet aroma of roses and honeysuckle. +</p> + +<p> +“Smells marvelous,” Mitch said. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Henry, our houseboy. He has a passion for flowers. +<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a> +Keeps the yard in damn fine shape, Henry does.” +Dirk’s tone sounded forced and pontifical, and Mitch +glanced sideways at him to see if there were any trace of +a smile, but he was dead serious. +</p> + +<p> +At the doorway, a small old woman waited to greet +them. In the harsh light of the chandelier inside the +entrance, her white face looked heavily powdered like the +top of a sponge cake, and her silver-colored hair had a +strong purple tint. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Mother Carter,” Dirk said. “How’s the party +going, Mom?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch and Robin shook her hand and passed on with +the boys through spacious rooms with parquet floors to +a winding stairway that led downward. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll like the Tack Room,” Clive assured them. +“Cost Sig Delt three thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin groaned significantly, and it was hard to tell +whether she was expressing awe or disgust. +</p> + +<p> +The Tack Room was lined on either side with large +red leather booths, and around the walls on oak shelves +there were pictures and trophies that were difficult to +distinguish in the dim lighting. At the head of the room +there was a large circular bar. Behind this a pledge +worked, opening bottles of Coke and soda. Liquor was +forbidden at fraternity parties, and so the flasks were hidden +at the tables where a score of couples huddled together. +Everyone was singing when Mitch and Robin +entered with their dates. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Roll me over, Yankee soldier.</p> + <p class="verse">Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again.</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“This is number three and my hand is on her knee,</p> + <p class="verse">Roll me over, lay me down and do it again.</p> + <p class="verse">Roll me o-ver in the clo-ver,</p> + <p class="verse">Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a> +“I’ll get the setups,” Clive yelled back at them as they +settled in a corner, and he pushed his way through the +crowd. Robin sighed and said, “Last night I drank chug-a-lug. +Not tonight!” +</p> + +<p> +Dirk joined the singing enthusiastically, and Mitch +stared around the room, wondering if Leda and Jake +were there. And Bud Roberts. Across from her, a girl with +long raven hair pulled away from the lean boy who was +whispering in her ear. “Kee-ryst!” she exclaimed, and the +rest of her words were gobbled and gone amid the singing +and the pounding clink of bottles and feet tapping time +with the music. +</p> + +<p> +An hour dragged, monotonous and unrelieved, with +the same songs and the sour taste of the whisky that +Mitch barely touched. Clive and Dirk sang every song, +stopping only to swig their drinks and refill them, and +point out the various “brothers” who were big shots—football +players, and the editor of the campus humor +magazine, and a graduate student who was a Phi Beta +Kappa, and, inevitably, Bud Roberts. Clive pointed at +him, and Mitch looked and saw him, leaning against the +wall, grinning crookedly. He began to weave his way +toward them, slowly, at an amble, his hands stuffed into +his baggy pants pockets, his green checkered sports shirt +open at the neck. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “I think I’ll go to the powder room.” She +had noticed the red arrow and the dark letters on the +wall announcing, “Women go this way!” Dirk nodded as +she rose to leave, and Robin said, “Wait a second, friend, +I’ll string along.” +</p> + +<p> +“One at a time,” Bud Roberts said, standing squarely +in front of the two girls. “It’s a house rule. One at a +time.” And then, “How are you tonight, Miss Mitchell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll lead you to our +ladies’ room.” He grinned at Robin. “You’ll have to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a> +Mitch’s cheeks grew hot as his hand held her elbow +and pushed her along. The singing was loud and painful +in her ears. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you feel tonight?” he said. “Feel better?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know, you’re sort of a challenge to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you forget it?” Mitch said. “Why don’t you +just be a gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Spoken by a true lady, at the door of the ladies’ room.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch pulled the door open and slammed it shut, +thankful to be rid of him, to have the touch of his hand +off her arm. Inside, the room was feminine and attractive, +with small dressing tables, flowered couches and chairs, +and a downy blue rag rug with green trim. Her examination +of the handsome room was arrested suddenly as she +stood before the mirror and reached for her comb. There, +to the left of her, a huge cardboard figure dangled brazenly. +It was that of a man, naked except for a flapping +fig leaf across which was written, “Lift and look.” +</p> + +<p> +Automatically, her hand reached for the fig leaf, and +drew back. Her curiosity was mixed with shame and +guilt. She ignored it and began combing her hair, fixing +her lipstick, and powdering her nose. It remained to +obsess her in a peculiar way. Again she glanced at it, and +then, remembering that Bud had said, “One at a time,” +she realized that no one would see her examine the figure, +and once more her hand touched the loose leaf. +Slowly and fearfully she raised it. Suddenly and swiftly a +fierce bell deafened her ears, ringing out a vibrant wail +throughout the Sigma Delta fraternity house. Gales of +laughter and shouts started in the room outside, and +Mitch drew back and stood shocked, her hands shaking +with scalding embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +The voices and calls persisted and Mitch sat down for +long, frenzied minutes. She could hear them coming +closer until they stood at the door, singing. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> +<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Never lift a fig leaf, lady, let the poor guy be!</p> + <p class="verse">That is,</p> + <p class="verse">That is,</p> + <p class="verse">If it’s idle cu-ri-os-i-ty!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Never lift a fig leaf, lady, just to steal a glance,</p> + <p class="verse">Unless,</p> + <p class="verse">Unless</p> + <p class="verse">You fol-low with ro-mance!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Now! Ain’t you coming out?</p> + <p class="verse">Ain’t you coming out?</p> + <p class="verse">Ain’t you ev-er, ev-er comin’ out?”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +She knew that she could not. They were waiting for +her and she could not get up and walk to the door and +pass them. Not now. It was a joke, she realized that, but +it was <em>his</em> joke. And everyone would be shaking with +laughter, knowing what she had done. Anger mounted in +her, and her hands wrung with a seething anxiety. Over +and over they sang the song and shouted and she sat +there. Very gradually the voices died away and then it +was finished and they had left the door. Short, round +tears loitered in the corners of her eyes and escaped down +her face as she blotted them with her handkerchief and +straightened herself. She listened at the door, and the +noise was not there, but back at the booths where they +all were. Opening it a few inches, she saw that Bud had +waited. There was a look of smug defiance on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“C’mon,” he said. “No one will bother you now.” +</p> + +<p> +She slammed the door shut harshly and held onto it +from the inside. He was the last one she could look at—his +face leering that way, the slimy, suggestive tone, and +the hand that reached for her. +</p> + +<p> +“By God, you’ll come out! You’ll come out!” he +shouted, and heaving himself at the door before she could +<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a> +twist the lock and secure it, he held her arms back and +kicked the door shut behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn you,” he said, the sick, sweet odor of liquor +flowing from his mouth. “Damn you and your damn innocence! +You wanted to look, didn’t you? By God, look, +then!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch wrested herself free, and grabbing the china +vase on the table, she brought it down on his head, and +left him staggering back against the wall. Then, running, +she tripped up the stairs, past the ghostlike face of +Mother Carter, through the door, and beyond the +gangling oak trees. She ran down the street in the tar-black +night. +</p> + +<p> +When she stopped running, a block away, the near +lights of the stadium told her she was streets away from +the Tri Epsilon house. Gasping for breath, her body +perspiring feverishly, she stumbled along until she saw +the white house on the corner. As she approached it, she +noticed the sign ΔΡ, and she remembered Fredna, the +girl she had met at the hotel during rush week. Instantly, +she quickened her pace and climbed the rows of brick +steps. A couple sat on the porch, and the girl looked up +at Mitch as she passed the swing where they were. +</p> + +<p> +“May I help you?” she said, standing, coming toward +Mitch so that she could view her in the light of the porch. +</p> + +<p> +“Fredna Loughead. I was—looking for her.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl said, “Fredna’s on a blind date tonight. She +won’t be home until closing hour. Can I take a message?” +She had a quizzical expression in her alert eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I—I guess I’m lost.” Mitch stuttered nervously. +“I’m a Tri Epsilon pledge. I can’t find the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” the girl said, her tone gaining interest, her +lips parting in a ready smile. “Well now, how did that +happen? You’re a pledge, you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am. I—I had a fight and—well, I just got lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“A fight? That’s terrible. Why, that’s awful. Look, I’ll +<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a> +tell you what we’ll do. Biff and I will walk you home. +It’s just a few blocks, and we were going to take a walk +anyway, weren’t we, Biff?” +</p> + +<p> +The boy got up from the swing and studied Mitch. +“Yes,” he said. “We’d be glad to walk you home.” There +was a bright jeweled pin on his sweater. “I live right +across the street from you. Delta Pi. We’re neighbors.” +</p> + +<p> +“And,” the girl said in sirupy tones, “you can tell us +all about this fight of yours while we walk along.” +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t much to tell,” Mitch said as they started +down across the damp grass. “I guess I just lost my +temper.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Bud Roberts reeled back against the pale blue wall, +and felt the warm trickle of blood on his forehead. He +touched it with his finger and stared at its vivid color +and stood there, slumped unevenly, resting. The door +was partially open and the sound of many feet came +rushing to him, and he straightened himself and walked +into their midst, not stopping the blood as it ran. A girl +shrieked out at the sight of him, and two young men +rushed to aid him as he walked up to them all. +</p> + +<p> +“You O.K. fellow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeah,” Bud drawled, “I’m O.K.” +</p> + +<p> +“Man, she really bruised you.” +</p> + +<p> +They stood about him gaping up at his wound. Bud +said, “Where’d she go?” +</p> + +<p> +“She took off,” Dirk answered. “She took off like a +bat out of hell, up the stairs and out. Robin here tried +to call to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a Tri Ep?” Bud asked Robin. “Are you one +of that bunch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” Robin was uneasy. The crowd thickened. She +wondered where Mitch had gone. “Why did she hit you?” +Robin said incredulously. “I didn’t even know she knew +you.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></a> +“Because she’s a poor damn sport, that’s why. Every +night I plug old cardboard Adam up for one girl to bite +on it, and she was the wrong girl. Then when I made the +men stop singing, and quieted them down so she +wouldn’t feel bad about coming out, she slugged me. +Well, by God, she’s the last Tri Ep to come to this +house.” +</p> + +<p> +He took out his handkerchief and held it to the blood. +Mother Carter had come downstairs and squeezed +through the crowd and seen him. She caught her breath +in a quick hissing sound and ran to take his arm. With +exaggerated caution she led him from the room, saying +she hoped it was not a concussion, saying the young lady +should be reported. “And she scooted right past me, too,” +she said, “and the devil was in her eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Clive McKenzie turned to Robin. “Under the circumstances,” +he said, “I think I’d better drive <em>you</em> back to +the Tri Epsilon house.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice was stiff and brusk, and members of other +sororities stood beside their dates watching as Robin +picked up her coat and Mitch’s coat and walked toward +the stairway with Clive. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you realize,” Clive said as he opened the car +door, “that this means trouble for your house. Probably +a black-listing.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin said, “I wonder where she went. It’s so dark and +everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hits a guy with a flowerpot! God!” Clive cursed. +“Goddamn!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The meeting lasted until two o’clock that morning. +When Leda came upstairs, Mitch was sitting cross-legged +on the bed, her hands clenched and shaking. Leda said +nothing. She put her shoes in the flowered shoe bag behind +the closet door and wiggled out of her skirt. Mitch +watched her and felt strange, as though she were in a +<a id="page-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></a> +play on a stage and the people in the audience were +waiting and watching and she did not know her lines. +“I’m sorry, Leda,” she said finally. “I’m <a id="corr-2"></a>awfully sorry I +got everyone in a jam.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda took out her brush and the bobby pins from the +small yellow box on the top of the bureau. “I guess I +just don’t belong,” Mitch continued. “I guess I just don’t +know how to act right. I don’t know much about jokes +like that, and Bud Roberts and the way he acted after. +Look, Leda, I am sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid,” Leda said into the mirror, “that it doesn’t +help anything being sorry. You really made a mess of it. +You know, the Delta Rhos <em>aren’t</em> our best friends. You +would pick that house to run to.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t tell them anything. Just that I had a fight. +Honest.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Biff Collins. He <em>would</em> be in on it. You couldn’t +have picked two worse people to help you find your way +back home. You didn’t have to tell them anything. +They’ll have their own stories circulating before morning. +God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything I can do?” Mitch looked at the +beautiful girl and her eyes ached where there should have +been tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Leda answered coolly. “There is. You can grow +up! You can forget yourself and come out of your lousy +damn shell and grow up! Don’t you think I know how +you felt? Don’t you think I know what Roberts is like +and how you felt? Do I look dumb and stupid, Mitch? +Mitch, look at me! Do I look dumb and stupid?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stared. The tears had welled up and were held +fast and there was a heaviness about her lids and the +drummer was back inside her, beating away fast. Leda +stood before her in her sheer white pajamas with her +face red from excitement and her voice harsh and sharp. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch answered her. “I’m the one that’s dumb +<a id="page-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></a> +and stupid, I suppose. But I can’t help it. Everything’s +so dirty and nasty. I can’t understand—” +</p> + +<p> +Leda cut in and held Mitch’s shoulders. “You make me +sick, Mitch! You make me retch! I bet you still think +babies grow under cabbage leaves. Well, they don’t. I’ve +got news, Mitch, they don’t grow under any goddamn +cabbage leaves. I had to learn it! I had to learn it the +hard way. Goddamn you, anyway!” +</p> + +<p> +The tears broke then and came to Mitch’s eyes in a +great rush and down her cheeks onto her slip and she +said Leda’s name over and over. Leda sat beside her and +began to talk as though she were not talking to the girl, +but to the wall and the curtains and the Venetian blinds. +</p> + +<p> +“When I was ten—<em>ten</em>—I was out in the back yard and +Jan was sitting there with Dave, the man she was sleeping +with then, and he came over to me and felt me. He said, +‘Boy, she’s a nice one!’ and Jan laughed. Jan said, ‘You +won’t even stop at kids, you bastard,’ and then they both +laughed. You know what I did, Mitch? I laughed too. +I’ve been laughing ever since. You should know what I +laughed at. You should know some of the goddamn funny +jokes I laughed at!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda, please stop. I started all this. Please stop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Because you don’t want to hear the story of my +life? Is it raising the hair on your head, Mitch? You want +to know something else? I used to lie in bed and listen +at night. We had a bungalow out in L.A. when Jan and +I lived there, and Jan’s room was right next to mine. I +used to hear them. I used to hear them plain as everything—the +springs creaking and the breathing. I used to +go crazy listening.” +</p> + +<p> +There was an eeriness about the room and the way +Leda looked straight ahead with her eyes fixed and unmoving. +Mitch squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to +hear any more, but Leda kept on. +</p> + +<p> +“And Jake! Want to know what Jake did tonight? +<a id="page-44" class="pagenum" title="44"></a> +After Bud announced that the Tri Eps were black-listed, +Jake and I got to the house and heard the news. Jake took +me back to the car. And after, Mitch, after it was over, +Jake said, ‘We’ll find some way to have this, even if I +can’t take Tri Eps out. They won’t stop this, baby.’ He +didn’t say, ‘The hell with the whole goddamn bunch of +them. They can’t keep us apart.’ He said, ‘We’ll find +some way to have this.’ But what’s funnier, Mitch—what’s +even funnier—was that I felt that way too. I didn’t +say it, but I felt it. That’s all I want from him. I hate his +guts and it’s all I want from him. Sometimes I don’t even +want that and then there’s nothing. I don’t know what I +want, Mitch. I’m afraid of what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at Mitch and she said, “Mitch, that was +why I was mad when I first came in the room. Because +you brought it out in the open. Because you made the +whole thing as goddamn plain as the nose on my face. +You caused the trouble—you and that bastard Roberts. +Because now the whole damn sorority is black-listed and +I’ve got to act as if I care and as if Jake cares and oh, +my God, it’s hell. We don’t care. What a laugh!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch saw Leda’s face, and it was strange and unfamiliar. +The features fell apart and they would not +unite again. There was the wide, sensuous mouth and +the nose and the eyes and the chin and they were like +pieces of the puzzle that was Leda’s face that had not +been put together. Mitch felt cold and hard, as though +this room and this house and this whole new life were a +dream and tomorrow she would wake up and her father +would say, “What a sleepy-head you are, black-eyed +Susan!” +</p> + +<p> +The room was still except for a slight knocking sound +that the blinds made in the wind. Leda stood up. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes I drink too much,” she said now because +it was over, “and I talk like a fool late at night. I’m sorry, +Mitch. Forget it, kid, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-45" class="pagenum" title="45"></a> +Mitch said yes but she knew no. She knew no she +would never forget it, not the loneliness that gnawed +away at Leda and the way she had said it. +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow you go over for your course cards,” Leda +said. “Better get some sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think they’ll do about what happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, kid. They’ll think of something. Don’t +worry about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch pulled her slip over her head and jerked off her +brassiere. She stepped into the pants of her pajamas and +buttoned the coat. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get the light, Leda,” she said, but Leda only +looked at her and did not answer. When the room was +dark, Leda said, “Mitch, come over and rub my back, +will you?” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed then when the large hands came on her +body and gently ran over her back. “Mitch,” she said, +“I like you. From the first day. You knew that.... Do +you hear me, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +The room was black and the wind blew and drops of +rain fell on the roof and it was tin. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“You looked at me when I was standing by the piano. +I’ll never forget that look.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were—beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now what do you think of me, Mitch? Honestly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never known anyone like you. I’ve had friends +before, you know, school friends. You’re different, +though.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you like to touch me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I—used to be timid about touching people. I +don’t know. When the kids asked me to scratch their +backs, I used to dislike it. Now—I like it. With you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The rain sounds good, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Want to crawl in with me?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-46" class="pagenum" title="46"></a> +Mitch didn’t answer. She pulled the covers back and +lay beside Leda, taking her hand from her back and +turning over to face the other way. When Leda’s arms +came around her to hold her, she felt a warm aching that +eased into peace and she slept until the rain stopped and +the sun came through the blinds in the morning. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Marsha said, “So you see, Mitch, it’s up to you. I know +it’s a ridiculous request, but we’ve got to save the reputation +of Tri Ep.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch backed the car into a space in front of the +library. Outside it was hot, and even now in the early +morning, near ten, the people passing in the streets had a +tired, damp look about them. A bespectacled young man +dropped his books and stooped to gather them. +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” Mitch turned to Marsha. “Why would +Bud Roberts want me to ask him to our housewarming? +It doesn’t make sense.” +</p> + +<p> +“All I know is what he told me on the phone. He said, +‘If Susan Mitchell asks me to your housewarming, I’ll +forget it.’ That’s what he said.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t trust him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Mitch, it’s three weeks away and you won’t +have to be alone with him. It’s right at the house, and +we’ll all be around. Try to believe me, I know how you +feel. I’d never ask you to do it except that we can’t afford +an enemy like Sig Delt. If they black-list us, the other +fraternities will be too proud to date us too. And after +all, Mitch, you did make it pretty messy when you ran +to another sorority for help.” +</p> + +<p> +The car was hot and Mitch opened the door. She said, +“O.K., I’ll ask him. I better get my course cards. The +line’s getting longer by the minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Mitch.” Marsha smiled and touched her +hand. “Thank you very much.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha waited to cross the street while Mitch joined +<a id="page-47" class="pagenum" title="47"></a> +the line, standing behind a tall, angular blond boy. A +warm buzz began in Mitch’s stomach when she thought +of Leda. She traced an L in the dirt with her foot, and +shielded her eyes from the sun with her arm. +</p> + +<p> +The blond boy said, “Hot!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch nodded. The line inched forward while he +talked to her. “Then we’re in three courses together,” he +said. “Swell!” +</p> + +<p> +Afterward, as they sipped Cokes slowly in Mac’s, he +told her that his name was Charlie Edmonson. +</p> + +<p> +The rain started heavily on the roof of Mac’s and +splashed down at the windows. “My car!” Mitch exclaimed. +“The windows are down!” +</p> + +<p> +They ran to the door and stood under the awning, +watching the rain teem down. “Can’t get to it in this,” +he said. “It’ll be a quick one, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +People in the streets dodged for shelter, and one boy +rolled his pants up to his knees and tore off with a newspaper +over his head. +</p> + +<p> +“When it lets up,” Mitch said, “maybe I can drop you +off. What fraternity are you in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” Charlie pointed to himself, laughing. “I’m not +a fraternity boy. Too fancy for an old Kansas farmer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’re an independent,” Mitch said blankly, +moving back from the awning where the leak was and +the rain came through. She thought of the song they had +sung at the Sig Delt house last night, the refrain humming +distantly in her ears. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“He’s a goddamn independent,</p> + <p class="verse">He’s a G.D.I.</p> + <p class="verse">Ignore! Ignore! Ignore the bas-tard!</p> + <p class="verse">Ditch the guy,</p> + <p class="verse">The G.D.I.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I think it’s letting up,” he said. “Want to run for it?” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-4"> +<a id="page-48" class="pagenum" title="48"></a> +Chapter Four +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +It was Thursday, the week of the Tri Epsilon housewarming +party, and the leaves on the trees along the +streets of Cranston were the way they are in October. +Mitch stood in the entrance to Jacob Hall, glancing nervously +at her watch, moving up and down from the top +step to the second step. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry, Sue,” Charlie said when he arrived. “Professor +Rudolph got talking after class and I couldn’t get away +from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t got time for a Coke. I have to get back +to the house this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked along the path to the street while Mitch +explained that all pledges had to assist in decorating the +house for the party on Saturday. As soon as she had said +it, she felt a sudden surge of embarrassment sweep +through her. It had been three weeks now that she had +been going for Cokes after class with Charlie. He had +asked her to go to a movie one Tuesday evening, but the +Tri Epsilon pledge study-hall system had started, and +pledges could not date on week nights. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just sort of a housewarming,” she said, hoping it +sounded unimportant and dull. Charlie scuffed his feet +near the end of the sidewalk where there was a space between +the ground and the asphalt. “Could I walk you on +home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten Clark passed them as they turned and she said +hello to Mitch and looked at Charlie with a flat expression +in her eyes. She had seen Mitch with him before, and +she knew that he was an independent. His awkwardness, +<a id="page-49" class="pagenum" title="49"></a> +the plain, loose-fitting clothes, and the conspicuous absence +of a fraternity pin pointed out the fact. As yet it +was not a matter of concern to Tri Epsilon, because +Mitch had not had a week-end date with him, or with +anyone else since the trouble with Roberts. On Saturday +she would emerge from the cocoon for the housewarming +and the date with Bud. It was a complete enigma to +Kitten why Roberts even bothered. Perhaps to save face, +and more to prove that no girl could hit and run. Not +him. She thought of the silverware that Mother Nessy +had promised Tri Epsilon if they pledged Susan, and +hoped they would have it in time for the buffet dinner on +Saturday. +</p> + +<p> +“How come you aren’t driving?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch hardly heard his question after they had passed +Kitten. She was thinking that Kitten would want to know +who the boy was and what house he belonged to. She +wondered vaguely what Jane Bell would say; if she would +say that it was just as easy to have a Coke and walk home +with a fraternity man after class, and that it was preferable. +</p> + +<p> +“Independents aren’t lepers,” she had told the pledge +class at their last meeting, “but fraternity men are preferable.” +</p> + +<p> +There were fraternity men in all of Mitch’s classes—suave, +confident young men whose loafered feet stretched +out in the aisles, and whose bold guffaws echoed after the +profs’ jokes. They had names like Grey Gregg and Big +Tom D. and Rabbit Man and they sat in clumps together. +There was something different about them, Mitch +thought, something that was not neutral but cold and +hot as they willed in their way with others. +</p> + +<p> +“I said, how come you don’t have your car in the lot +today?” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda borrowed it. She had to pick up some equipment +downtown.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-50" class="pagenum" title="50"></a> +“Your roommate?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had a car, I guess I’d be afraid to let people borrow +it. Maybe not. Hard to tell when you’re as far from +having a car as I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda’s careful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must be going to be a big old party at your house +Saturday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty big.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just girls?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch said. “Boys and girls.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to—I have this job downtown at Messer’s +Drugstore. Usually work week ends. That’s why I haven’t +been able to ask you out. I was going to ask you out Saturday, +but—” +</p> + +<p> +They cut across Swampcot Street and waited for the +light to change. “Will you ask me some other week end?” +Mitch said as they walked on. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have a date Saturday.” +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the circular walk to the Tri Epsilon +house, Charlie said good-by and handed Mitch the +French book he was carrying for her, and he said after +he said good-by, “Be good, Sue.” +</p> + +<p> +The Tri Eps were busy trimming the entrance to the +dining room in pink and blue streamers and Robin +Maurer was polishing the mirror in the hall. She paused +when Mitch entered the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Get lost,” she advised. “They got work around here +that would scare an elephant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Looks good. Who’s your date, Robin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some blockhead. I’ve seen him once. Looks like those +prehistoric men in our Soc books.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know who mine is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Robin said, wringing out the cloth, “I know. +Marsha gave me a little lecture too, all about bowing +<a id="page-51" class="pagenum" title="51"></a> +and scraping to Sig Delt. I don’t know, though. She’s the +only one in this bunch I trust.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey,” Jane Bell called to Mitch. “Change your clothes +and pitch in here. We need some work done in the basement +if Mother Nessy lets us use it Saturday.” +</p> + +<p> +At a previous Tri Epsilon party, a fraternity man had +spent his entire evening and half of the following day +on the moth-eaten divan behind the ping-pong table in +the Tri Ep cellar. He was very drunk and it had happened +last year and Mother Nesselbush had been called +on by the Dean of Women to explain the incident. Since +then, the basement was termed “off limits” for house +parties. This year there was a skinny hope that it would +not be a restricted area. +</p> + +<p> +The hope died shortly after Mitch changed into a pair +of jeans and headed off in the direction of the back steps. +There, congregated in a small mass, Tri Eps faced Mother +Nessy. Her answer was a very adamant no, supplemented +with the viewpoint that basements encouraged extravagant +necking, liquor drinking, which was forbidden, and +other “things.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda heard them arguing back there when she drove +Mitch’s car in the drive and pulled the packages out. +She set them down in the living room and went upstairs. +As she took her worn green suede coat off and tossed the +matching beret to the top of the closet, she noticed the +yellow paper on Mitch’s desk. It was Marsha’s paper. +Marsha had reams of this paper, pale lemon-colored +onionskin with a small silver initial at the top. The third +time this week, Leda realized. Whenever Mitch could +not be found, she was down in the suite helping Marsha, +or in the evening after closing hours, making cinnamon +toast in the kitchen with Marsha, or listening to records +with Marsha in the living room. Irritated, Leda glanced +at the scrawled words on the yellow paper: +</p> + +<p> +“Want to help me trim the side hall for the party? +<a id="page-52" class="pagenum" title="52"></a> +I’ll meet you there when you’re changed. Love, Marsh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” Leda said aloud. “Trimming the side hall +with <em>Marsh</em>. What a great big fat kick that is!” +</p> + +<p> +She stretched out on the bed and shut her eyes. In a +persistent, conscious dream, Jake was beside her, his +hands on her, her ears filled with the harsh profane words +he used. Then, in that crazy state of half awareness, she +projected herself into Jake’s ways and saw Mitch, large +and muscular, but less strong than Leda, who held onto +her. Suddenly she heard the footsteps in the hall and +Mitch appeared, shaking the dream, chattering noisily +about the decorations, how Marsha had helped her with +her French assignment, and what Mother Nessy had +said about the basement. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch,” Leda said, breaking in, “who’s the guy?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“They say you’re hanging around with some guy after +classes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Charlie. He’s in a couple of my classes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda blew the smoke from her cigarette toward the +ceiling. Mitch thought it was time now for the harangue +on independents if Leda knew, and if not, it would be +time after she asked and knew then. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you ask him to come Saturday? Tell Roberts +to go jump and ask him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t. Marsha asked me to do this. Leda, you know +why I had to ask Roberts.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Marsha’s idea. Listen, kid, don’t be pushed +around. Marsha could have settled it some other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I thought,” Mitch said, confused, “I thought it +was the only choice I had. I don’t understand you now, +Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“You understand Marsha, apparently.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch sat down on the bed and tried to reason why +<a id="page-53" class="pagenum" title="53"></a> +Leda was afraid again, almost as she had been that night. +Weeks had passed and Leda had seemed aloof and busy, +with Jake all the time, and tired in the evening. Now this, +and Leda was angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Charlie is an independent,” Mitch said, “so he +wouldn’t be a good date to bring anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Charlie?” +</p> + +<p> +“The boy you said I should ask instead of Roberts.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda searched in the bookcase for her Spanish text, +and finding it, she grabbed her coat. “I’ve got work to +do,” she said. “I can’t think about it all the time. Do you +hear me, Mitch? I can’t think about it all the time!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch didn’t say anything. +</p> + +<p> +“Marsha! I’m so sick of hearing that girl’s name. You +think she’s God, don’t you? You think that girl is God?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch reached in the drawer beside her bed and found +the nail polish. She was wearing it regularly now, bright +red, and her nails were growing long and tapered. +</p> + +<p> +Leda stood before her waiting for an answer but it did +not come. She said, “I thought you were my friend. I +thought you cared about me because no one else had ever +given a damn. No friend. Jake cares for his own damn +reasons and Jan doesn’t care. The two J’s in my life. +J for junk. But I thought you gave a damn and I ran +around pouring my heart out telling you things. Then +you run to Marsha when you have a problem and you do +what Marsha says.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t.” Mitch’s voice cracked. “I talk to her because +she’s president.” +</p> + +<p> +“President! President of what? Of the world? Of the +United States of America? I laugh my fool head off at +her being president.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to say, Leda. I don’t know why +you’re mad all of a sudden.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda shook her head and walked out of the room, +slamming the door. She walked down the hall and the +<a id="page-54" class="pagenum" title="54"></a> +steps and out the door to the street, and she knew why it +was this way. She knew. Before she had thought she +knew, and she had erased it like a pencil mark on a +sheet of new paper. It came back. And Susan Mitchell, +of all those it might have been, and the way she was, like +a baby. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch watched her from the window until she was out +of sight. Across the <a id="corr-3"></a>street the Delta Pi’s were staging a +song practice on their side lawn. In even rows of more +than a dozen, they faced their white-flanneled leader and +sang out in fine, gruff voices. They were singing the +Cranston football team’s “Fight Song,” and listening to +them, Mitch thought that this was the way she had pictured +college. This singing, and the fall leaves outside, +and the hazy questions in her mind about the French +translation and the English composition, and no Leda or +Bud Roberts—nothing like that. Still, there were Leda’s +eyes, and the deep blue tinge of hurt that had shown +when she left like that. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The housewarming was to begin immediately after the +football game, and that Saturday afternoon the Tri Eps +had gone in a body to the stadium. It was the first home +game of the year, and tradition brought together the +fervid assemblage of fraternity brothers and sorority sisters +in solid blocks throughout the grandstands. To +Mitch, it was a bewitching spectacle, with the lively mass +of people and the beat of the drums in the uniformed +band parading down the field. Robin Maurer sat beside +her. Of all the pledges, Robin was the one whom Mitch +knew and liked best. The others seemed to be absorbed +into the whole, with no particular individual traits of +their own. Sissy Callahan and Bebe Duncan and Jett Duquette +and Travis King, all somehow alike, with the same +neutrality toward you as the fraternity men’s. Most of +them wore their hair long, curled loosely, their faces +<a id="page-55" class="pagenum" title="55"></a> +tinted with the popular liquid powder base they all used. +Their arms were caparisoned with silver bracelets, and +their shoes varied only from loafers to saddle shoes and +saddle shoes to loafers and they called everyone darling. +That was together. Alone, there was Sissy’s brother who +flew transatlantic flights and had been married four +times. Bebe Duncan’s father was an author and his books +were dedicated always “To B. and Bebe,” because her +mother’s name was Beatrice. Jett Duquette was named +after the race horse her uncle made his first million on. +And Travis King had false teeth, which only made her +more beautiful and which she talked about, often, in +mixed company. +</p> + +<p> +They sat there, too, with Robin and Mitch. But Robin +was the one that counted. When the whistle blew and +the football sailed off in the air, Mitch leaned forward +and drank in the movements on the field below. The +cheering and the songs and the tense moments near the +goal line caught her up and carried her with them. Once +Leda turned around from the row down in front of her +and winked at Mitch. She saw the excitement on Mitch’s +face, the red, ruddy look to her cheeks, and the eyes shining +as though she had fever. Mitch was happy then. It +was their first exchange after yesterday’s quarrel. There +was something in the look that meant, “All right, it’s all +right,” and Leda was beautiful, looking up like that and +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +During the half Marsha called down to Mitch and +Robin to come up and sit with her. She was munching +a hot dog, and some of the boys from Delta Pi had +crawled under the ropes and were standing there chatting +with her. Mitch and Robin scrambled up and joined +them, and they met Ted and Lucifer, the two Delta Pis. +When the band struck up the “Fight Song,” the five of +them roared out the words, and Mitch laughed at the +way Lucifer sang, deep and loud like a bass drum. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-56" class="pagenum" title="56"></a> +“Hey,” he said. “You’re laughing at me.” +</p> + +<p> +The whistle blew and she sat down beside him for the +next quarter. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he said, +“somewhere that smells vaguely of formaldehyde.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gosh,” Mitch exclaimed, “that’s right! Lab! You’re in +my zoology lab.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” He smiled, tipping his black and gold fraternity +cap. “You’re in <em>my</em> zoology lab. Remember, I am +Lucifer.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch saw Leda looking back, searching for her, craning +her neck and peering over the heads of the others to +the seats Robin and Mitch had deserted. Mitch did not +know why she leaned down and pretended to tie her +shoe, so that Leda wouldn’t see her. She did not know +why, but she knew that it was better. Better not to have +her see. +</p> + +<p> +“Walk you home,” Lucifer said, after the game was +won and elated students jumped about in the bleachers, +hugging one another and singing out in husky choruses. +“You’re a neighbor, that’s why. I only walk neighbors +home. Hate foreigners from other streets.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucifer jabbered on about nothing and Mitch liked +him. He was a short boy with huge thick glasses and an +unbelievably short haircut. Mitch was taller than he was +and he would not let her forget it, but the way he joked +and the way he talked charmed Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re taller,” he said, “and so you undoubtedly consider +your length a blight on your whole day. Because +why? Because Lucifer said he would walk you home. Because +Lucifer is very tiny and prefers that his women be +very tiny. And furthermore because you have a feeling +you are going to fall madly in love with Lucifer. But +never mind. Lucifer has a soul. It is very possible that he +will make a little room in his life for you from time to +time.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch laughed. “Thanks,” she said. “Any time you +<a id="page-57" class="pagenum" title="57"></a> +want me to reach up and hammer a nail in that’s over +your head....” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear girl,” Lucifer said, “a much funnier way of +saying the same thing would have been to say, ‘Call me +when you can’t reach the hatrack.’ You see? Something +simpler than what you said, though much the same essence.” +</p> + +<p> +Outside the Tri Epsilon house, cars were lined up and +horns were blowing. The chairs on the lawn were filling +up with young men, and Tri Eps were hurrying up the +walk to join them. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand you’re warming your house tonight,” +Lucifer said. “Some of our boys were invited.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I’m sorry you won’t be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch laughed. “I have a date, Lucifer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see him now,” Mitch said, looking the crowd +over, “but he’ll be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I tell you what. I’ll wait with you until he +comes. It’ll be O.K. Tell him I’m your brother. Tell him +I’m a gnome. He won’t care. And when he comes, poof! +Disappearing act.” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, but realized it was no use. Lucifer was +determined. Together they made their way up to the +porch, and Mitch went in to get him a glass of punch. +On her way to the kitchen she met Marsha, and she explained +that Lucifer had insisted on staying until Bud +came. Marsha smiled and answered that she couldn’t see +how it would hurt anything. Then Mitch rejoined Lucifer +and waited for Bud to come. +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock Lucifer said, “It was a very delicious +buffet, my little gazelle. Ah, your date—he’s coming tonight?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Mitch said, thinking of the humiliation +of being stood up, of having Lucifer here to witness +<a id="page-58" class="pagenum" title="58"></a> +it, and Tri Eps passing with their dates, looking to see if +Mitch and Bud were getting along well, and Bud not +there at all. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t seem distressed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not, really. I don’t like it, of course. But I don’t +care for him either.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucifer said, “But he’s tall. I suppose he’s very, very +tall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite tall, yes. Taller than I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, me,” Lucifer sighed. “Vanity. Vanity, vanity.” +</p> + +<p> +Inside the group was singing “My Gal Sal.” Mitch +shivered, and thought about forgetting the housewarming +and going up to bed, or taking Lucifer inside and +forgetting Bud. Then, to punctuate her thoughts, there +was a sharp voice: “Hey, Susan Mitchell!” +</p> + +<p> +Bud Roberts was coming up the walk, carrying a box +under his arm, smiling and talking in a loud voice. “Hi +there. I know I’m late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bright boy,” Lucifer said, rising, bowing, and moving +away. “A commanding personality, that boy!” he said as +he walked toward the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucifer. I don’t know his last name.” Mitch didn’t +stand up or look up at him. Inside she was seething with +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, let me explain it. I was late for a good reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to get you just the right kind of flower,” he +said, tearing the ribbon off the box and presenting her +with an orchid. A brown orchid. Mitch stared. She stood +up and stepped back from the flower, as though it would +shatter if she were to go near it. It was beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“For everything, I mean, for everything! Let’s make +this a peace offering.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-59" class="pagenum" title="59"></a> +She took his arm after he pinned the orchid on, and +they went into the house, where couples were dancing +on the dining-room floor, which had been cleared of the +tables. +</p> + +<p> +“Got any punch?” Bud asked, and she led him back +to the kitchen. He pulled a leather flask from his back +pocket. “I want a shot in mine,” he said. “How about +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put it away, Bud! It’s not allowed.” +</p> + +<p> +Bud Roberts threw his head back and laughed. He +reached for Mitch’s hands and he said, “You know +what? You’re the first really innocent girl I’ve ever met. +You’re really innocent, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said, “but I know liquor isn’t allowed.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten Clark and her date rushed into the kitchen. +They were howling over something and Kitten grabbed +his head and bit his ear. “Take that,” she said, “and let +it be a lesson.” Bud offered them a drink, and Mitch felt +the blood rise in her head when she saw Kitten pour a +large shot into her punch glass. Kitten sensed Mitch’s +shock, and she said, “Look, it’s O.K. as long as Nessy +doesn’t get wise. So take it easy.” Her date took a straight +swig from the bottle, and laughing again, they left the +kitchen door swinging back and forth behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” Bud said. “I’ll give you a light shot. This +doesn’t taste bad, like beer. You won’t get sick.” +</p> + +<p> +Tired of being wrong all the time, Mitch let him “fix” +her punch, and they joined the others. Marsha beamed +at Bud and came rushing over to him, holding his hand +for minutes after she shook it, smiling and saying nice +things. Then others came—Jane Bell and Skip and +Mother Nessy and, at last, Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi,” she said to Roberts, Jake standing beside her, a +sly, lopsided grin on his face. Roberts shook their hands +and when he held Leda’s he did something to make Leda +<a id="page-60" class="pagenum" title="60"></a> +pull her hand away, and wipe it on her skirt and sneer +at him half-smiling. “You never forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like an elephant,” he said, “just like an elephant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Someday you’re going to forget and you won’t have +any personality. You’ll be a dope without your dirty jokes +and your coy gestures.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch shuddered to think what would follow, but Bud +Roberts only stuck his hands in his pockets and looked +admiringly at Leda. “You’re the only girl who can deliver +an insult,” he said, “and still be a duchess. A mean +duchess, though.” +</p> + +<p> +Jake took Leda’s arm. “Cool off, Roberts,” he said. +“Cut your line, or pull your bait in.” +</p> + +<p> +Bud and Mitch danced and she found him easy to +talk to and friendly. He kept getting her more punch, +and each time putting a little more whisky in the glass, +and telling her it was all right and that she wouldn’t +feel it. But she did. She felt light and happy and once or +twice she touched his arm and said something complimentary +to him. She said, “You’re nice, Bud,” and “You +know, you look very nice tonight, Bud.” He squeezed +her close when they were dancing and she could feel his +warm breath near her ears. She thought that their misunderstanding +was a foolish, silly thing and that they +had never understood one another until now. Now she +was the lady her father wanted her to be and this was +the ball and Bud Roberts was a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +The orchestra that Tri Epsilon had hired was a small +combo that played half an hour out of every hour. Then +they staged a gala intermission, during which the orchestra +members raced to the kitchen to refuel themselves +with many bottles of assorted liquors. Mother Nessy permitted +the musicians to have “alcoholic refreshments,” +so there could be no suspicion on her part if she were to +enter the kitchen and see a young man pouring a drink. +He was merely “servicing” the hired musicians. During +<a id="page-61" class="pagenum" title="61"></a> +intermission there were scores of young men occupied +this way. +</p> + +<p> +“That kitchen’s a mess,” Roberts said, “and the porch +is jammed. How about sitting in your car?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt lively and excited and she said, “Yes, that’d +be fun.” +</p> + +<p> +When he kissed her she did not mind the kiss. She +snuggled up close to him and laughed at nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“You feel good, don’t you?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her again, and this time her mouth was +forced open and she was hurt from his teeth and she drew +back. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said, “you’ve never been kissed much that +way, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me show you something,” he said. “Let me show +you how nice it can be.” +</p> + +<p> +The back door of the car opened and Marsha stood +there with her date, a large, happy-looking boy. “Can we +sit this out with you?” she said. “Every place is filled.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha’s date was Ken, and he impersonated professors +and they laughed for a while, but Bud did not laugh +enthusiastically. Ken heard the music when it started, +later, after they had talked together, and Marsha said, +“Well, let’s all go back. There’s going to be a pinning. +Jim Keeler is going to pin Kitten tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +A huge circle formed in the dining room and Jim +Keeler stood in the center, his arm around Kitten’s waist. +From the side lines, Mother Nessy beamed as the girls +sang the “Sweetheart Song.” When it was finished, the +orchestra played “I Love You Truly,” and Jim pinned his +large fraternity pin on Kitten’s bosom. <a id="corr-4"></a>Then they danced +and the others joined in. +</p> + +<p> +“C’mon,” Bud said to Mitch, “let’s get some punch in +the kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-62" class="pagenum" title="62"></a> +The kitchen was empty and Bud poured a large shot +of whisky into Mitch’s drink. “Susan Mitchell,” he said, +holding his glass high, “the picture of innocence.” +</p> + +<p> +The taste was gone and Mitch drank easily. Bud came +to her and kissed her and his hand went down to her +skirt. “No,” he said when she started to squirm away, +“just wait a minute. Wait a minute now, Susan Mitchell, +just let me alone for a minute. Feels good, doesn’t it?” +he said, and Susan Mitchell shut her eyes and the room +was going around in grand yellow and red circles. He +helped her down the steps and it was still and musty, but +he talked all the way. When he found the light switch, +he turned it on once and then off again quickly. He led +her over to the couch near the ping-pong table. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sweet,” he said, his hand working the buttons +on her blouse, pulling it gently from her shoulders, kissing +her. “You’re sweet, Susan.” +</p> + +<p> +Very softly, almost too softly for her to hear her own +words, she said, “No,” but her eyes saw the circles and +there was a new feeling in her body when he touched +her and she could feel her clothes being pulled. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said. “No, please, no!” +</p> + +<p> +Then swiftly, suddenly, and with terrific pain, she felt +pressure and her eyes opened wide and she would have +screamed but his hand covered her mouth and he struck +her hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up,” he said. “You wanted to know. You wanted +this, Miss Virgin.” +</p> + +<p> +For a long time she was down in the mire of pitch +black and the quicksand sucking her in and her whole +head dizzy and the pain. Then it was over and she could +feel him kneeling beside her, his head on her breasts, his +breath coming hard. When she stood up, she hung onto +the table and her head throbbed and spun. He got up +too and turned the light switch on and she saw him looking +at her. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-63" class="pagenum" title="63"></a> +“Better get your clothes on,” he said, “and get upstairs +with me.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was not her own. “You go to hell,” she said. +“You go to hell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on,” he said. “Get your clothes on.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not cry. She reached for her things, scattered +there on the floor, the brown orchid squashed beside the +couch, everything strewn. He turned his back and ran +his fingers through his hair, and then he turned around +and she was dressed, walking toward him with dead eyes, +swerving slightly from side to side. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said. “That’s ‘Good Night, Ladies.’ It’s +the last dance.” +</p> + +<p> +She moved past him toward the cellar steps. He caught +her arm and she stopped and did not look at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go out the side door,” he said. “Look, take a hot +bath. You’re not hurt. Go up and take a hot bath and +keep your mouth shut. Look, you’re all right. Don’t act +this way.” +</p> + +<p> +When he let her go, she walked up the cellar steps and +up the back steps to the second floor and her room. +There was no one up there. They were all finishing the +last dance. She lay on the bed, her eyes shut, and the +circles came back, but they were black now and she was +very cold. +</p> + +<p> +Leda found her like that when she came in the room, +threw her coat on the chair, and let her arms reach out +in a wide yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the trouble?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch did not move. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, +her lips parted, a gray-white color to her face, and +she did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“You sick?” +</p> + +<p> +She put her hand on Mitch’s forehead. “Roberts,” she +said. “What did Roberts do to you? Did you fight? Talk +to me, kid. Please tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-64" class="pagenum" title="64"></a> +Mitch started. Her feet touched the floor and moved +toward the door. She shut it hard and turned toward +Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“He did it to me,” she said slowly. “He did it to me in +the basement. I feel—horrible.” +</p> + +<p> +Outside there was singing, men’s voices coming clearly, +singing, “Dream girl, dream girl, you are a frat man’s +dream girl,” in rich, deep tones. Mitch held her head and +sat next to Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“That goddamn bastard,” Leda said. “That no-good +damn bastard!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “When he came over tonight, I thought—he +was sorry and he liked me and—” She could not finish, +or cry or scream as she wanted to, and Leda’s cursing +jarred her and teased her. +</p> + +<p> +“Kid, listen. Can you hear me? Don’t say anything +about this. Don’t trust anyone. Don’t tell anyone what +happened in the cellar. The basement was off limits, and +you’ve been drinking. God, it isn’t your fault! God knows +that. But honey—no one cares when a rule is broken. +They don’t care. Can you straighten out? Do you want +me to get a wet rag for your head?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said to take a hot bath. He said—” +</p> + +<p> +“He would! A hell of a lot a man knows. Take a hot +bath!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda, what’s wrong with me? How did—” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “Don’t try to talk, kid,” and she helped the +girl take her clothes off. She said, “It’s all right now. +You’re O.K. now. You’ll feel better after you sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +The voices outside were singing in a lively chorus, +singing fast and clear: +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“We are the great big, wow! Hairy-chested men, wow!</p> + <p class="verse">Hairy-chested me! Wow! Hairy-chested men!</p> + <p class="verse">We are the great big, wow! Hairy-chested men!</p> + <p class="verse">We can do an-nee-thing! Wow!”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-65" class="pagenum" title="65"></a> +Leda helped Mitch into her bed, and stripping, slipping +into white silk pajamas, Leda crawled in beside her +after flicking the light off. She put her arms around Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lousy break, kid. It shouldn’t have happened to +you. Marsha should have known better.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid, Leda. Will I have a—what if I’m pregnant? +I can’t even think. I wish I wasn’t here or alive or +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything will be O.K., Mitch honey. Let me stroke +your back gently. I know how men are, Mitch. I know +how rough they are. Mitch, does my hand feel good?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jake is rough too. You get sick of it. You get sick of +them pawing you around as if you were an animal. Men +don’t understand. They’re tough and they don’t care +what they do to you. I know, honey. I’ve been through +it and I don’t know why I go back, except that it just—You +have to. Jan always thinks if you don’t have a man +hanging around that you’re abnormal or something. +Mitch, you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know. +I talk like an idiot, Mitch. But I like to touch you. I die +when I think of that Roberts bastard laying a hand on +you. Listen, kid, I never felt about a person the way I +feel about you. You’re different. I want to keep the damn +world away from you, so it won’t kick you in the teeth +the way it has me. You’re special, Mitch, and as long as +I’m alive, you’re going to be O.K. I mean it.” +</p> + +<p> +Long after Mitch was asleep, Leda’s hands stroked her +arms, and Leda lay there, hoping the evening would stay +and never let morning come, for now there was a restless +peace in her, akin to finding something that was lost, +and yet something that had never been hers before. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Up on the hill overlooking the towers and the town, +there in an alcove, the Sigma Delta house was bright with +lights and young men laughing. In the living room downstairs, +<a id="page-66" class="pagenum" title="66"></a> +faces were awake with lively talk and collars were +open at the neck, with the ties hanging freely and the +coats unbuttoned. A few of the boys kicked off their shoes +and leaned back luxuriously in the deep chairs and +couches. Others were coming through the front door in +groups of twos and threes, and in the corner a radio +played a late disc-jockey show from Louisville. At the +card table, four fellows began a poker game, and one +stood near them, holding a glass, discussing the evening, +telling about the bad roads near Cranston Creek and the +way “Gloria’s no fool, you know. She takes <em>real</em> precautions. +That’s what I mean about her acting older than +the rest of these coeds.” +</p> + +<p> +On the third floor, in the room with the banners and +the signs and the skeleton hanging from the hatrack, Bud +Roberts sat with a bottle and his roommate, Clive McKenzie, +and Jake was there too. Bud was talking about it. +About the way the girl had looked afterward, and how +he felt, and their faces were serious and interested. +</p> + +<p> +He said, “It was the first time I ever got such a creepy +feeling. Now, I’ve fooled around a lot. Plenty. But I +never got such a creepy feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +Clive McKenzie crushed his cigarette on the floor. +“Yeah, I know what you mean. One time I had a virgin +and after she—” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” Roberts yelled. “Listen, I’m telling you it +wasn’t like that! You don’t know what the hell I’m telling +you. I’m so goddamn drunk I don’t know what I’m telling +you either. But this girl—she was like my dog at +home after I kick her when I don’t mean to but I lose +my temper. Ever kick your dog and see his eyes? She was +like that. I never—” +</p> + +<p> +“What the hell, Roberts. You asked for it. You said +you were going to make her. I don’t know why you +wanted to bother with the girl anyway. She’s built like +a barn. You knew it. Jesus, what the hell! You want us +<a id="page-67" class="pagenum" title="67"></a> +to cry in our beer over your mess? God, what an act!” +</p> + +<p> +Jake took a swig from the bottle and coughed. “Do I +yell around here over troubles I got? And troubles I have +got. You make me sick sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, shut up! Shut up!” Roberts yelled, standing +up quickly. “We got a pledge in this room. Shut up, +Jake, you damn fool!” +</p> + +<p> +“You brought it up. You brought the thing up, for +God’s sake. What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to shut up about it now,” Roberts answered, +lurching toward Jake and grabbing his shirt. He +raised his arm to swing it out at Jake and Jake caught it, +twisting it back until Roberts was on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Break it up, fellows,” Clive ventured in a scared tone, +stopping short when Jake let Bud free. Jake looked at +Bud kneeling there and his anger softened. He said, +“G’night, Clive, Bud. I’m going to bed. Get some sleep, +men!” +</p> + +<p> +When he said “men,” Clive knew that it was all right +then. He watched Jake go and he turned his back on Roberts. +He took his toothpaste and his brush and he swung +a towel over his shoulder. Whistling weakly, he left the +room and walked down the hall in the direction of the +bathroom. +</p> + +<p> +After the door shut, Bud dragged himself up on the +bed. He sat there, pulling his ear and looking hard at +the floor. With his fist, he hit his head hard. Then he +stood up. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, you party-poopers,” he called out hoarsely, +“where the hell did you go? It’s only one-thirty, for God’s +sake! Hey, you four-legged bastards, come back and +finish the bottle!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The light sound woke Leda. Beside her, Mitch tossed +restlessly, a pulsating whimpering rising inside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch, are you all right?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-68" class="pagenum" title="68"></a> +She opened her eyes and looked at Leda. The room was +not dark, early lights of dawn casting a rusty hue over +everything, and the wind from the open window was +mild and steady. +</p> + +<p> +“I was dreaming. What time is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“About five.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was having an awful dream. Bud Roberts and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t,” Leda said, her arm catching the girl’s waist. +Mitch turned on her side, facing Leda, feeling the hand +rub her back. It was quiet and warm. Leda moved her +hand forward and ran her fingers lightly over the buttons +on Mitch’s pajama top. Then, gently, she slipped the +round, plastic buttons from their loops, leaving the coat +open. Almost as if Mitch knew what would follow, she +held the top of the sheet back while Leda moved down +and lightly kissed Mitch’s breasts. A soft sigh broke free +from Mitch’s throat and evolved into a plaintive cry. +Leda pulled herself up and her lips found Mitch’s and +crushed them, burning and moist. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch,” Leda whispered, and they held each other +fast and hard. “Mitch.” +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-5"> +<a id="page-69" class="pagenum" title="69"></a> +Chapter Five +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +Mitch settled back in her seat that Monday morning +and watched the thin, bespectacled man on the rostrum +in the front of the room. Around her, students sat with +open notebooks, waiting for the lecture to begin, doodling +in circles and squares on the lined paper, talking +busily, watching the slight rain on the windows, and +stacking the books on the floor beneath their chairs. +There was a sharp rap, a final rearranging of position on +the part of the boys and girls, and Professor Aimes’ +voice broke through the stir to say, “Shelley’s dates were +1792 through 1822. He attended Oxford as a boy, and +while there he—” +</p> + +<p> +He was like her father, this professor. Mitch noticed +the resemblance in the way he stood, legs spread, hands +stabbing his pockets, rocking back and forth as he talked. +And in his build, in the gangling structure of his body, +the way his arms hung loose in defiance of all tailoring, +wrists jumping out of his sleeves. Even his voice was +similar—high and full and self-assured. Her father was +not an intelligent man. Mitch realized that much about +him. He had been a very lucky man, and a very skillful +businessman, and a man who was strange to other men +and to most women and to Mitch. She could imagine +that she and her father had never known each other, and +yet they had spent many long hours together when she +was on vacation from school, in the summer, and when he +visited her on his rare trips that brought him to her +vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +Her mother was the stranger—the name, and the small +gold-framed picture on the bureau, and the tiny flashes +<a id="page-70" class="pagenum" title="70"></a> +of information that her father had relayed. Death was +a word like mother and the two stood for something that +was there but unknown to feeling. Vaguely Mitch wondered +what it would have been like if they had been real +to her, this dead mother and the father who was alive +and whom she wrote to and returned to in between school +and growing. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what happened to me Saturday night, +Father?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, black-eyed Susan. What?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had sexual intercourse. In the cellar.” +</p> + +<p> +Even after she had thought of such a scene and played +with it in her mind and rejected it as impossible, she felt +the danger of the thought. She felt that now she was +grown, as her father had always said she would be and +as she had thought she would never grow. She was grown +and there was no more time to say, “When I grow up,” +and now she could not say, “When I grew up” and tell +what it was like, because it was over. It was over and +when it is over you do not talk. You do not say what it +was like. Not when it’s like this. +</p> + +<p> +The Professor’s voice began the poem and she listened +attentively. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“I arise from dreams of thee</p> + <p class="verse">In the first sweet sleep of night,</p> + <p class="verse">When the winds are breathing low,</p> + <p class="verse">And the stars are shining bright....”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Leda was not a man, and yet, when she had awakened +her, Mitch turned to her and they were not friends then, +but lovers. Mitch became separate as a person at last. She +was not separate from Leda, but individual and one. She +was wanted and she wanted, and it was not a want striped +with fear and hurt. It was a fragile want to be nurtured +and cared for, as Leda had then in bed. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-71" class="pagenum" title="71"></a> +“I never kissed a girl,” Leda had said afterward. “I’m +sorry I did it to you, kid.” +</p> + +<p> +There was something wrong and ill in the two of them +then like that, Mitch knew, but what? When she was a +child, near the dam where she had gone with her father, +on the worn lead pipe there were words written and she +had said, “What do they mean?” They were bad words, +he explained, and there was that about his explanation +that made <em>her</em> feel guilty, as though she had taken the +white chalk and put the words there. Leda was sorry, so +<em>she</em> knew what was wrong. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Oh, lift me from the grass!</p> + <p class="verse">I die! I faint! I fail!</p> + <p class="verse">Let thy love in kisses rain</p> + <p class="verse">On my lips and eyelids pale.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +The voice droned on and on and Mitch traced the +holes in the paper with her pencil and thought more of +Leda and still not enough. She thought of the talk at the +dinner table in the house on Sunday, the way Leda had +reached under the tablecloth and gripped Mitch’s hand, +as if to give her strength to answer Marsha’s “You see, +Mitch, it wasn’t so bad after all. I guess Bud can be a +gentleman when he wants to.” And Sunday evening, before +Leda ran downstairs to greet Jake and go off with +him, she had kissed Mitch’s lips and looked at her and +told her it would not be the same with Jake. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to go,” she said, “but it won’t be the same. +Not like us, kid. No.” +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“My heart beats loud and fast.</p> + <p class="verse">Oh! press it to thine own again,</p> + <p class="verse">Where it will break at last.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Professor Aimes stopped, leaned forward, resting his +<a id="page-72" class="pagenum" title="72"></a> +elbow on the rostrum, his glasses in his hand. “That,” he +said dramatically, “is what I mean about Shelley.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +When Mitch entered zoology lab after English class, +Robin Maurer was waiting inside the door. She pulled +Mitch over to the corner and began talking to her in a +plaintive, earnest tone. +</p> + +<p> +Robin had met Tom Edwards in her French class, a +separate section from the one Mitch attended. He played +the tenor sax and he was an independent and Robin had +liked him immediately, the way Mitch had liked Charlie. +He was one of the members of the combo that entertained +at the housewarming on Saturday. As Marsha had +requested, Robin asked a Sig Delt to the dance, an old +flame of Kitten Clark’s. When Kitten got pinned, Robin’s +date proceeded to get highly inebriated out on the back +steps. During one of the half-dozen intermissions, Robin +and Tom went for a ride. There was a flat tire with no +spare tire in the back, and they had been stranded until +one o’clock in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“It was innocent, really, Mitch. Tom didn’t even put +his arm around me. But I got in after hours, and it’s the +talk of the dance. Did Leda tell you anything about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think she heard that it happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone heard! He didn’t get back for the dance—to +play, I mean—and I was missing. Everybody heard +about it, and they were whispering all through the house +yesterday. Mitch, there’s a chapter meeting tonight and +I’m going to get it. Bet you anything, Mitch. Bet you I +get it.” +</p> + +<p> +For a bare, awkward minute, Mitch thought of telling +Robin about it. She thought of saying, “Look, you don’t +know what happened to me,” but she remembered Leda’s +words: “Don’t trust anyone. Don’t tell anyone what happened +in the cellar.” She let Robin talk, and she listened +until the class was called to order and the lab instructor +<a id="page-73" class="pagenum" title="73"></a> +passed the tiny slabs around to the members of the class. +Moving along to the third row where her microscope +was, Mitch slipped the slide under and peered down at +the wiggling amoeba. Then the slide went black. +</p> + +<p> +“You are now looking at the finger of Lucifer. Much +more interesting than an amoeba.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello,” she said, raising her head and grinning at +him. “I was just getting it focused.” +</p> + +<p> +“My finger?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I was getting the amoeba focused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” Lucifer said. “So you’re not interested in my +finger.” +</p> + +<p> +Any time but now, Mitch thought. Any day but today +I could talk to him and laugh at him because I like him. +But not today. She looked down into the microscope +again, and Lucifer bent his head and moved it close to +hers. “Let me see too,” he said. “Don’t be so stingy with +your amoebas.” +</p> + +<p> +She pulled the slide out and began to write in her lab +book. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a rip-roaring time with old Step-and-Fetch-It +Saturday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” he leaned on the lab bench, “is it true that +tall men are aggressive?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch didn’t answer. She tried to think so that she +could write in her book, but he kept chatting away. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they the best lovers?” he said. “Are they the +world’s very best lovers?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to get this, Lucifer. Please—” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were only tall,” he said. “If I were only tall and +could make you forget amoebas.” +</p> + +<p> +The lab instructor shot her a piercing glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Please go, Lucifer.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t say that to an amoeba!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s watching us,” she told Lucifer, pointing over +<a id="page-74" class="pagenum" title="74"></a> +toward the instructor, but Lucifer ignored the warning. +</p> + +<p> +A piece of paper landed at Mitch’s feet and she reached +to get the note that Robin had rolled to her. Lucifer +caught it instead and held it up high and said, “Ah, a +note! A secret message.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not see the angry expression on the lab instructor’s +face as he came toward them. Lucifer blew at the +folded paper the note was written on, and he laughed. +“Ha!” he said. “Communists infiltrating into our school +system. Cranston Communists delivering their nasty +notes of plenty!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give that to me!” the instructor snapped. “Does this +look like a high-school room to you?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucifer jumped back and his face flushed. The instructor +pointed to the note and tapped on the bench. +“Who wrote this?” he said loudly. +</p> + +<p> +In a strained voice, Robin Maurer answered. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, you two, outside. One week’s suspension +from the course! When you get back in, we’ll see if you’ve +grown up any. Bad enough you act like freshmen, without +acting like jackasses!” +</p> + +<p> +He gave Lucifer a tap on the arm and pointed toward +the door. Robin followed him, her head bent, her ears +scarlet. Suspensions were reported to sorority houses. It +was a means of checking on the pledges, and freshman +instructors had been advised of this ruling by Panhellenic. +Suddenly Mitch hated the clownish idiot who had +caused Robin’s expulsion. She hated him along with all +of them. <em>Men don’t care what they do.</em> Leda was right. +A gnawing loneliness seeped into Mitch’s veins and she +thought of Leda and how Leda touched her. The instructor +pushed the amoeba slide in front of her and said, +“You’ll be next if you don’t get busy, Miss Mitchell.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Charlie was waiting for Mitch at the parking lot that +afternoon. She had purposely avoided him when French +<a id="page-75" class="pagenum" title="75"></a> +class was over and the students shuffled out of the room. +He stood next to her car and watched her coming. +</p> + +<p> +“I missed you. You didn’t wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in a hurry, Charlie. I don’t feel good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gee, I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. Can I do anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’d better hurry to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door for her, his brow wrinkled with +concern, his hand helping her. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I can ask you this quick,” he said. “Go to a +show with me Saturday?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch started the motor and looked back to see how +much room there was to spare between her car and the +one behind her. He was hanging on the door of the car, +looking at her with a sweet but servile expression. She +felt sorry for him but she did not want to go out with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said for no reason that she could think of, +“I’ll go with you. Saturday.” +</p> + +<p> +When she drove off the dust kicked up in a cloud in +the back and he stood in it. “Hope you feel better,” he +called after her, pushing the thin specks of dirt away from +his face. +</p> + +<p> +From the street, along College Avenue, another voice +called. Mitch brought the car to an abrupt halt, wheels +squeaking and tires scraping against the curb when she +pulled in. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, kid,” Leda said, tossing her books on the seat. +“I thought you wouldn’t hear me. Hello,” she said again, +smiling at Mitch and touching Mitch’s skirt with her +hand. “I missed you today,” she said, and the car started +fast on the black pavement. +</p> + +<p> +Leda watched the girl as she drove. She had a mad, +fleeting impulse to reach over and push the wheel so that +there would be no more. The day had been an agony of +guilt and regret, but her need for Mitch was no less +strong. Jan’s face had come to her like a ghost, tormenting +<a id="page-76" class="pagenum" title="76"></a> +her with shame, symbolizing the impossibility of +Mitch and Leda and a love that was wrong. It was not +even love. It could very possibly not even be love. But +where Jake was plastic, Mitch—this feeling for Mitch +was wood. It was wood and it could do everything wood +should do—splinter, crack, and burn. Now it burned, +deep near her stomach, and there was never that with +Jake. There was a compulsion with Jake, a compulsion +to be taken and used and discarded. And with Mitch it +was not like that. With Mitch it was clean. It was impossibly +clean. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s drive out to the farm road, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +“O.K.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drive fast, Mitch. Let’s go fast.” +</p> + +<p> +For that time before they reached the dirt road and +swung off to the side near the pasture where there was +space to park, Leda let her hair blow out in the wind +and felt the crisp autumn air on her cheeks. Then, sitting +there in the car with Mitch, she said, “I think this is +peace, Mitch. I think this is what I always wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda always talked like that, dramatically, as if each +word swelled with significance and was true. Mitch saw +her beside her and saw her head resting on the leather +seat, sitting loose and relaxed, staring up at the sky and +the way it looked after the sudden and short showers +that came and went like that in the Midwest. +</p> + +<p> +She said, “Leda, did you hear anything about Robin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something, yes. Something about staying out late and +going off from the dance with one of the musicians. She’s +in for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not her fault,” Mitch began, but Leda reached +for her hand and said, “Don’t! Let’s not talk about the +sorority and school and all that. Mitch, how do you feel +about me?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stammered, “I—I told you. I think that I—love +you....” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-77" class="pagenum" title="77"></a> +“My God, think of the way people would talk if they +knew! Leda, the fraternity man’s little damn darling, and +here she sits wishing all to hell she could reach over and +kiss you. But she can’t because it’s not right. Not here +in broad daylight. Not in the open. It’s right in the night. +Then it’s right. Huh, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get mad, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not mad, Mitch, honey, I’m not. I just wonder +why I don’t lose my goddamn mind. I just wonder what +I’m all about and how come you came along and gave +me a clue. That’s all. And I wonder about Jake and oh, +God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda, in class today, I thought about Bud Roberts +and I thought that if it hadn’t been for you—if you +hadn’t cared—I guess I would have killed myself almost.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda started to lean toward the girl, but drew back +when she heard the voices. Through the woods a boy +with a lettered sweater came, holding hands with a girl +who was looking up at him, and they were smiling and +pressing close to one another as they walked down the +path and sat on the rock, back there where the road +turned. From where they sat, they could see Mitch’s car, +and Leda felt a swing of shame and guilt ride through +her. She snapped the radio on. +</p> + +<p> +“God,” she said, “it really is muggy! Out here in the +damn country, it really is muggy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” Mitch said, “that it was sort of like fate, +what happened Sunday morning. I needed someone.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch’s confessions seemed ludicrous and unholy to +Leda, there with the boy and girl behind them. She +wished she would stop. The presence of the couple that +had come through the woods inhibited her and made +her nervous. She began to hum slowly to the music on +the radio. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel that way, Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch leaned close to Leda and Leda pulled back and +<a id="page-78" class="pagenum" title="78"></a> +sat near the door. “Let’s drive back to the house,” she +said. “I’ve got a pack of mail waiting for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to go, Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” She could see them through the rear +mirror. “Can’t stay here all day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you liked it out here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I want to go. Can’t stay in one place all your +life, kid.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “O.K.,” and she turned the switch on. The +rest of the way back to the house, they did not talk. When +they drove in, Leda jumped out and ran in and Mitch +followed. Together they found their mail, a letter for +Leda from Jan’s beau, and for Mitch, a letter from her +father. When they were on the way to their room, Marsha +called to Leda. “Chapter meeting,” she said, “at seven +tonight, Leda. It’s important, so be there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey,” Leda called back, “I want to talk to you about +an exchange dinner. The Sig Delts are hot to have an +exchange next week. We could set ourselves up good +with that kind of deal, and maybe the silverware will be +here by then. It should have been here long ago and I +think—” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch left them talking there in the hall, and as she +turned the doorknob to her room, Robin appeared. Her +eyes were swollen with crying and she told Mitch that she +had reported the suspension herself. “They might as well +know,” she said. “My goose is cooked anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my fault,” Mitch said. “That Lucifer is a—” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s wonderful, Mitch. He’s the first all-around guy +I’ve met besides Tom. No, it’s my fault—and I don’t care. +If I get kicked out, my folks will be wild. You don’t know +my folks, Mitch. Prestige and social climbing means everything. +It’ll kill them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think they’d kick you out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they will. Sure, I try to tell myself they won’t, +<a id="page-79" class="pagenum" title="79"></a> +but I asked for it. I really did, and then Saturday night +finished everything. I wish Marsha weren’t president. +She’s the only decent one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda’s wonderful too.” Mitch smiled. “She’s been +really wonderful and—” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust her like I trust a snake,” Robin snarled. “Don’t +let her fool you, Mitch. Around here she may be a big +cheese, but I’ve heard enough to convince me she’d make +Amber look like a New England schoolteacher. You never +can trust that kind of girl.” +</p> + +<p> +Opening the door to the room, Mitch said, “We better +not talk in the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin looked around her and shook her head and said +it didn’t really matter where <em>she</em> talked. She said she had +to go back to her room and get her homework done because +at least that much wasn’t messed up, and there was +that much. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +After dinner that evening, the Tri Eps filed into the +small room off the living room. This was the Chapter +Room, where the active members of Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon +held their meetings. The pledges were instructed to +stay upstairs in their rooms when such meetings occurred, +and Mitch was propped up on her bed, staring unseeingly +at her French assignment. +</p> + +<p> +It had been impossible to concentrate these first few +weeks of school. There was always a debris of thoughts +to clear up in her mind, and when one mass was swept +away, the windfall hit again and each new amount +seemed staggering. Determined, Mitch began reading the +lesson aloud, trying to impress the catchy rules of pronunciation +on her brain, but she could not. Her thoughts +returned invariably to the afternoon and the way Leda +had been and the change that was always instant and +arresting within Leda. Mitch got to her feet and drifted +to the window, and sat in the chair looking out into the +<a id="page-80" class="pagenum" title="80"></a> +street. Monday night was chapter-meeting night in Greek +Town, and there was a reverent hush in the neighborhood. +Decisions and rules and amendments to rules were +being developed throughout the area, and it was like a +grand corporation manufacturing a variety of brands, all +tested, all ready to compete with one another. As she saw +the darkness with the spots of light in it and the stillness, +Mitch wondered what it was like to be an independent. +She wondered if Charlie were working in the drugstore, +and if Lucifer were clowning in the chapter meeting +across the street, and then she wondered achingly what +Bud Roberts was thinking and if he had told his “brothers” +and if he laughed and told them and if they laughed +too. She picked up a copy of the school magazine and +turned the pages, reading the jokes without smiling and +looking at the pictures of the students there. The breeze +coming in on her was cool, but there was a tiredness in +her like that of a series of humid days that were close and +without air.... +</p> + +<p> +“Is <em>that</em> the way you study?” Leda said, nudging Mitch. +She was smiling and her hand on Mitch’s shoulder was +the same hand that had been there on Sunday and not +cold or frigid now. +</p> + +<p> +“I fell asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you did! Well, that damn meeting is over for +another week. Robin’s case has been referred to Grand +Council. They’re meeting in Marsha’s room now.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch sat forward. “You think it’ll be O.K.?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, honey. It’s hard to tell. I just don’t +know.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda rolled her hair in tight ringlets and fished her +soap from her glass. “Let’s go to bed right away,” she said. +“I’m going to wash up and then let’s go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the Grand Council?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t wait for them to decide anything. It may take +all night. Get your bath, and we’ll turn in. O.K.?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-81" class="pagenum" title="81"></a> +The bath water was too hot, but after the sting it felt +good on Mitch’s leg. In the other tub, Marybell Van +Casey was singing “On, Wisconsin” and splashing the +water vigorously. Mitch eased herself down to a sitting +position, listened to the other girls in the room, washing +out their socks, brushing their teeth, and talking about +Robin. She recognized Kitten’s voice, and the voices of +several of the pledges, but there was no way of learning +more about the incidents that occurred during the meeting. +The feelings were mixed, and influenced by what +each girl thought she should feel. The pledges thought +that they should side with those who recommended stern +reprimand, and only a few dared to express sympathy. +None rebelled against the occurrence. No one defied +those who accused Robin. Only Mitch, inside, and she +did not speak out. She pushed the soapy cloth back and +forth on her arms and legs and neck and remained silent. +There was enough to be wary of, and there were no +answers to her own questions. +</p> + +<p> +Later, Leda turned the lights out and for a moment +there was no sound in the room, but an air of expectancy, +a period of waiting for one to speak. Then, in a rush of +covers, springing over to Mitch’s bed, Leda clung to the +girl. She said, “Mitch, Mitch, oh, God!” Passionately she +nipped the girl’s neck and shoulder with her teeth, and +pulled the pajamas from her large body. Mitch helped +her, and waited while Leda took her own off, and then +they came together, moving rhythmically against one another. +</p> + +<p> +When they talked, later, Mitch asked her about the +afternoon and Leda cried, saying her words between half +sobs welling from the slim body that was pressed tight +against Mitch’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “That +couple came along and I don’t know what happened to +me. I felt as though—Mitch, don’t ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-82" class="pagenum" title="82"></a> +“How did you feel?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt—guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “Oh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you, Mitch? About us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No ... not yet. I felt—I know how <em>you</em> feel because +I think I felt that way after Bud Roberts and—” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Leda said sharply. “Not that way! Not that kind +of guilt! God, no!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda wanted to laugh and scream and be hysterical +until her whole body was spent and she could fall exhausted +down into a bed of grass and let the wet blades +cool her. How was it possible to make a child understand +what an adult could not comprehend either? It was better +that she did not realize, that the kinks and bumps and +twists that resolved themselves into the overt actions +were shielded and hidden from Mitch. <em>One</em> could bear +guilt. For both, one could carry it and it would be better. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to sleep, darling,” Leda said. “I love you, Mitch. +This is between us. It’s ours, Mitch. Keep it ours and +never tell it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “I will. I don’t talk about things. I mean, +I think I know what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +They could hear the chattering just when sleep was +coming, and the rush of the feet in the hall. Leda sat up +straight and said, “What in hell is going on?” +</p> + +<p> +She poked the light button and unlocked the door. +“Hey,” she yelled, “what the hell is the rumpus? Did the +Russians attack?” +</p> + +<p> +One of the girls stopped long enough to say that Robin +Maurer was depledged. That tomorrow she would have +to move out of the house. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-6"> +<a id="page-83" class="pagenum" title="83"></a> +Chapter Six +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +The Tri Epsilon porch was crowded when Mitch and +Charlie came up the walk and stood against the columns. +In the swings and chairs there were half a dozen couples +locked in embraces at various angles, and many others +clung to their dates standing. It was Saturday evening, +five minutes shy of closing hour, and the scene was usual. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a good time with you tonight,” Charlie said, +and in that setting his voice sounded loud and intrusive. +Mitch glanced at the minute hand flying slowly in circles +under the glass in her wrist watch. They had been to a +late movie and for sodas in the Cortille after. Soon she +would be with Leda. Three minutes. +</p> + +<p> +The porch light flickered on and off to give the signal, +and a voice called out, “Twelve-thirty.” Charlie shuffled +his feet uneasily. “Well,” he said, coughing, lingering, +“this is it, I guess.... May I kiss you good night?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch was uncomfortable when he leaned forward and +let his lips touch hers lightly. Then he backed away, +waving faintly, a curved grin on his round young face, +until he collided with a couple behind him saying good +night at the edge of the steps. Mitch turned, and once inside +the screen door, ran up the stairs to see if Leda was +there. The room was dark, and when Mitch pushed the +light button, there was only the disarray of clothing on +the bed, the shoes kicked about on the floor, and the +papers scattered on the desk, reminding her that her +economics assignment was barely begun. She pulled the +blinds and slipped out of her clothes, into her terry-cloth +robe and the worn slippers. The bathroom was crowded +with Tri Epsilons, and as she ran her bath water and +<a id="page-84" class="pagenum" title="84"></a> +waited, she saw them pass in the halls, tired and bedraggled +from their evening, many of them rushing to the +windows to wave to their dates as they left. Leda was not +among them, and as Mitch eased herself into the hot +water, she prayed that Leda was only late, and not in +trouble somewhere with Jake. +</p> + +<p> +Jane Bell called her a few minutes after she was in the +bathtub. +</p> + +<p> +“Phone,” she said. “Some guy.” +</p> + +<p> +Dripping and curious, Mitch hovered in a wide towel +as she took the call in the booth outside the bathroom. +</p> + +<p> +“I said, this is Jake. You know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but—Has something—” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he yelled out at her, “don’t blurt anything +out where the whole bunch can hear. Leda’s O.K. We’re +just a little tied up and she’ll be late. Now listen, can +you hear me?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch’s knees grew unexplainably weak. “Yes,” she +said. +</p> + +<p> +“In one hour exactly—that’s at one-forty-five—I’ll let +Leda off at the side entrance. She’ll come in through the +cellar door. Got that? You get down there and unlock +the door for her. Now, have you got it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess so, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get panicky. It happens all the time. Look, just +be a sweet kid and get that door unlocked for her. Don’t +unlock it ahead of time, though, because someone might +get wise. They’ll be in bed by the time we get in. And +something else—you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda says not to tell anyone she’s still out. If anyone +comes looking for her, lock the door and say she’s sick, +or pretend you’re asleep, or something like that. O.K.? +And when you meet her at the cellar door, bring her robe +and slippers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it all right? I mean—” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-85" class="pagenum" title="85"></a> +“Look, kid, Leda wouldn’t ask you to do it if it wasn’t. +Now be a sweetheart. Promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise,” Mitch said, and the click came in her ear +after Jake said, “Fine, baby, don’t forget. One-forty-five.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not bother to finish her bath. Pulling the plug, +she gathered her things together and came face to face +with Kitten as she was about to leave. “Hey,” Kitten said, +“how are you? Why don’t you come down for hot cocoa +in the kitchen?” +</p> + +<p> +“O.K.,” Mitch said. “As soon as I get into my pajamas.” +</p> + +<p> +After Mitch was dressed, she wrapped Leda’s thin robe +about her slippers and tied them in a ball. On the shelf +near the stairway to the cellar, she hid them behind the +large can of turpentine. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached the kitchen, there was a huge pot +of steaming cocoa on the stove. Marsha was stirring it, +the sleeves of her green wool robe pushed up to her +elbows, her hair rolled up on red and white rag curlers. +At the table, Kitten and Casey and Bebe Duncan talked +busily about their evening. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi,” Kitten said. “I suppose you couldn’t drag Leda +down.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch laughed and shook her head. She sat on the high +wooden stool and looked at her watch. It was ten minutes +after one. Marsha poured the cocoa into the cups and +pulled a chair over near the table. They kept on talking. +Casey asked Mitch to try out for the swimming team +next week, and the chatter about sports grew and lasted. +One-twenty. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was your date tonight?” Kitten asked suddenly, +turning toward Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Charlie. He’s in some of my classes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Independent?” +</p> + +<p> +The cocoa was cold and flat. “Yes. I—It was my first +date with him. He’s been very nice to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t mean anything,” Kitten said. “It’s O.K. to +<a id="page-86" class="pagenum" title="86"></a> +date them once in a while. You know, just so it’s not a +habit.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch swallowed. She had expected more trouble from +Kitten, but the subject changed again and Charlie was +virtually forgotten by everyone. The minute hand seemed +to whirl. There was no way to go down the cellar steps +without being seen, and the talk was endless. When +Marsha moved toward the stove to reheat the remaining +cocoa, Mitch felt a warm rising in her chest and her hopes +of getting Leda in safely caved in. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not the least bit sleepy,” she heard Bebe say, “not +the least bit.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Jake came back from the phone booth with a smile. +He signaled to Leda to finish her beer. “Now, that’s the +kind of roommate to have,” he said. “Lets you take her +car and opens the door for you when you come home. I +gotta train mine better.” +</p> + +<p> +He paid the check and took her arm. She stumbled on +the cobblestone walk that led away from the Fat Lady, +a café just on the outskirts of Cranston. It was a popular +place for late dates because few of the regular college +crowd went there. Those who did were usually there for +the same reason—to avoid being seen and to make a few +phone calls before starting off someplace else. +</p> + +<p> +The air was brisk, and the ground was still soft from +the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. Dizzily, Leda +thought of Mitch, and burned to have her and be with +her, but in the pocket of her coat her fingers touched the +letter. Jan was coming in five days. She laid her head +back on the seat in Mitch’s car, and when the motor +started and the tires skidded loose, she recalled last +night’s dream. +</p> + +<p> +She had been asleep somewhere in a rambling bed with +Mitch beside her. They were naked, and covering them +there was a brilliant red comforter, and snow was falling +<a id="page-87" class="pagenum" title="87"></a> +around them. Sleepily, and with that surging ache inside +of her, she had turned to Mitch’s back and cupped her +hands around on Mitch’s breasts and kissed the smooth +white skin of her shoulders, and Mitch had turned instantly. +She had said, “Leda!” in that startled, shocked +voice, and the features of her face fell away and became +Jan’s features. And again, “Leda, what on earth are you +doing?” The dream had ended there. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell!” Leda swore, and Jake grinned, his eyes on the +road. “You got yourself a little load on, miss. Too bad, +too—could have been a good night for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Every night’s a good night for it where you’re concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s why you love me,” Jake laughed, “my insatiable +queen!” +</p> + +<p> +“What time is it?” Leda said. +</p> + +<p> +He turned the corner sharply and she fell over against +him. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re on time,” he said. “It’s only one-twenty now. +We’ll make it right on the dot.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The kitchen lights were bright at a quarter to two, +and inside, Mitch sat on the stool, her eyes moving from +the empty cocoa cup to the cellar stairs just outside the +kitchen door on the left. Marsha was rattling on about +clothes and only Kitten had left the gathering to go up +to bed. Leda was waiting, but there was no way to reach +her. Because of Jake. When she thought of him, Mitch +glowered at the floor, imagining in a fleeting series of +mental pictures what they had done that evening, Jake +and Leda. The pictures were sordid and painful, and +almost compulsively Mitch forced them to come, and +each one was worse. Leda did not love him, and yet she +persisted in being with him, always, as if he were a medicine +or a drug. He drove Mitch’s car, and called up and +asked Mitch to let Leda in, and the whole affair was tiresome +<a id="page-88" class="pagenum" title="88"></a> +and nerve-racking. Mitch vowed she would tell Leda +not to see Jake any more. When she got in, and <em>if</em> she +got in, Mitch would tell her that she didn’t like it. She +loved Leda and Leda loved her. There was no need for +this fear and worry and frustration. Suddenly, Mitch +realized that Marsha was standing there, speaking to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I said, are you coming to bed? It’s two o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch jumped to her feet and hurried to rinse her cup +and saucer at the sink. Then, after the light was switched +off in the kitchen, she followed Bebe and Marsha up the +stairs to the second floor. She would have to wait to run +back and open the door for Leda. If she was still there! +If everything would only work out! Marsha waved good +night, and Bebe wandered off down the hall, humming +“St. Louis Blues” aimlessly. +</p> + +<p> +The house was strangely quiet and still. Mitch waited +ten minutes in the doorway of the bathroom, and then, +softly, the tips of her slippers barely touching the stairs +as she moved, she found her way to the cellar stairway, +and reaching up behind the large square tin can, she +found the rolled ball of clothing that she had left there. +Her other hand grabbed the long silver flashlight, and +she flinched at the strong creaking of the stairs as she +made her way down and ran toward the door in the back +room of the cellar. She unbolted it, and Leda, leaning up +against it on the outside, nearly fell in. Jake was behind +her. She held the door open an inch and whispered something +to him before she closed it. Then she turned toward +Mitch, and reaching for her waist, she came into +her arms, and her kiss smelled heavily of stale liquor and +tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +“Get into your robe,” Mitch said. “I’m petrified. You +don’t know how my stomach felt when it was time and +everyone was still in the kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could see them,” Leda said, “but I knew you’d come, +honey. When you could.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-89" class="pagenum" title="89"></a> +She began to pull her sweater over her head and unhook +her skirt. “I’ll have to undress here and leave my +clothes under the pillows until tomorrow. Then if anyone +sees us going back upstairs, we can say we came down +for Cokes. Couldn’t sleep. I even have two nickels. Look, +you go get two Cokes out of the machine. God, my clothes +are stuck to me!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch walked across the room and slid the nickels into +the slot. “If I’d thought of the machine, I could have got +here on time. I never thought of it.” +</p> + +<p> +She felt the cold ice feeling of the bottles as they hit the +small case at the bottom of the machine. “Shall I open +them?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “Yes,” and then, “Look, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned the flashlight to look at her, and she saw +her standing there, bare except for the spike-heeled shoes +on her feet. “What are you going to do about it?” Leda +laughed. “You aren’t going to just stand there?” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, Mitch came toward her and set the Cokes on +the table. She put out the flashlight, and her hands found +Leda’s body. Then for the first time, she was the aggressor. +The strength that was sleeping in her awakened. A +powerful compulsion welled up inside of Mitch as she +felt the pliant curves of Leda’s body. Then they lay together, +breathless and filled with a new peace. When she +spoke at last, Leda said, “Mitch? Mitch! Oh, God, I love +you.” +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of power, and the knowledge of Leda’s quivering +submission, filled Mitch as she let her eyes stare +up at the blackness in the cellar. When she had gone to +Leda, she had not known what she would do, and it happened +without thought or care for what followed, but it +was easy and natural. She was the conqueror, and it was +a sensation abundant in glory and desire. +</p> + +<p> +“Want to stay here for a while?” Leda asked. “It’s too +late now for anyone to care whether we’re in our rooms +<a id="page-90" class="pagenum" title="90"></a> +or not. I like it here.... Did you have a good time?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “Pretty good. We went to a movie. Nothing +special.” She rubbed Leda’s back and patted her hair. +“How about you?” she said. “How come you were late?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jake was in one of his usual carnal moods but I +was too high and we argued.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do you do it, Leda? With Jake, I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you do it with Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows?” Leda said, stretching magnificently, +pulling her robe around her. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m +trying to prove something.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like it, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>You</em> don’t like it! What in hell does that mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means,” Mitch said, “that I don’t like you sleeping +with a guy when you’re in love with me.” Even to Mitch +the words sounded unreal, as if she were playing a game +or reading someone else’s lines or living a foolish semi-conscious +daydream. Yet that was what she had wanted +to say. Leda sat up and moved from Mitch. “Listen,” she +said. “Don’t get me wrong. I may be a little uncertain +about it, but men come first with me. What do you think +we are—engaged to be married? Are you going to propose +now, and then settle down with me in a little goddamn +vine-covered cottage and raise kids? Sometimes you’re +God-awful thick in the head, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you said you didn’t even <em>like</em> Jake! Maybe I am +thick in the head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you are! Who said anything about Jake? I said +<em>men</em> come first. Men, as distinguished from women! Sure, +I’ve got bisexual tendencies, but by God, I’m no damn +Lesbian.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said you loved me. Maybe I don’t understand—” +</p> + +<p> +Leda got up from the couch and picked the Coke bottle +up. She took the flash in her hand, and then, turning +around to face Mitch sitting there, she said, “You don’t +<a id="page-91" class="pagenum" title="91"></a> +understand much at all. But get this! Jan is coming +Wednesday. Lay off the love business while she’s around. +I’m afraid she doesn’t understand much either, and she +sure as hell wouldn’t understand this. I’m tired. I’m going +to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute,” Mitch said, catching the girl’s wrist. +“Wait a minute, Leda. I love you. Don’t leave it like this. +All I know is that I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You better get to know men too, kid. I mean that. +There are a lot of people who love both and no one gives +a damn, and they just say you’re oversexed and they +don’t care. But they start getting interested when you +stick to one sex. Like you’ve been doing, Mitch. I couldn’t +love you if you were a Lesbian.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not,” Mitch said, wondering what the word +meant. “I’m not. I—I just haven’t met a man yet who +makes me feel the way you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you don’t give them a chance,” Leda answered. +“Come on now. Let’s go to bed. God, it’s three-thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +They tiptoed up the back steps and down the quiet, +dimly lighted hall to their room. Leda pulled the covers +back and fell into her bed. She murmured a tired good +night, and her eyes closed and her breathing came heavily. +Mitch did not sleep. She lay tossing about on her bed +across from Leda, her mind running through the incidents +of the evening to review them and examine them. +There was only a fragmentary edge left to the sensuous +memory of her loving Leda, and looming now in a sick +foreground there was this word. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Mitch got up and went to the bookshelf, taking +from it the blue book, and leafing through it, holding it +near the flash that Leda had left on the desk. +</p> + +<p class="dict"> +<b>Les´bi·an</b> (lĕz´bĭ·ăn) <em>adj.</em> <b>1.</b> Of or pertaining to Lesbos +(now Mytilene), one of the Aegean Islands. <b>2.</b> Erotic;—in +allusion to the reputed sensuality of the people of Lesbos. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-92" class="pagenum" title="92"></a> +Mitch closed the book and stood staring at the bare +light of the street lamp in front of Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon. +She could hear Leda’s breath coming slower now +and more evenly, in deep sleep, and the dictionary had +told her nothing. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-7"> +<a id="page-93" class="pagenum" title="93"></a> +Chapter Seven +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +Mitch sat in the stuffed chair near the window sewing +up the burst seam in her coat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, darling, I wish you could <em>see</em> what Dwight has +done with the studio. Of course, it’s the only place in the +whole goddamn office building where a body can get a +good stiff drink during the day and Dwight says—” +</p> + +<p> +The words went on endlessly, like a radio playing in +a room when you do not listen constantly, but now and +then, catching illusive scraps of the whole meaning, the +crumbs of an endless dialogue. Jan had been there for +three days. They were funny days. Leda fastened herself +to Jan, hanging on the words and laughing before the +pause, compulsively, almost as though she were afraid +Jan would not say something hilarious each time she +spoke. Jan was beautiful, too, older, with faint lines in +her face that became real under the harsh electric ceiling +light in Mitch’s and Leda’s room, but still very fine and +hardly there at all. Leda sat on the bed next to Jan that +afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know if I’ll marry him or not,” she heard Leda +say. “Do you like him, Jan?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a doll, darling. You know who he reminds me of? +Frank Pierce. Member him? Des Moines. Member?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God,” Leda shrieked, laughing. “Him! One perfect +rose! Sure, I remember Frank Pierce.” +</p> + +<p> +Jan wore a tight print dress, high black alligator shoes +that were strapped around her slender ankles, and her +fingers flashed and sparkled with rings and glitter. +Mother Nessy had said, “Your jewelry is <em>ex</em>-qui-site, Mrs. +Taylor. Why, it’s <em>fab</em>ulous!” when she met Jan on +<a id="page-94" class="pagenum" title="94"></a> +Wednesday and Jan had dinner in the dining room with +the Tri Eps. Mitch sat at another table. From where she +sat she could see Leda’s face, her eyes avoiding Mitch and +fixed on Jan’s red lips and the whiteness of her teeth. +When Jan left the house to return to the hotel for the +evening, everyone had flocked to Leda’s room to say how +they liked her mother and what fun it must be to have +such a young mother. Then when they were gone and it +was late, Leda did not talk to Mitch or come to her there +in the night. And Mitch worried. +</p> + +<p> +She had found the explanation for the word in a thick +volume on the psychology shelf in the library. A Lesbian +was abnormal, a female who could not have satisfactory +relations with a male, but only with another female, and +Mitch knew it had been that way. A bisexual could love +both sexes, and Leda loved Mitch, and she was with +Jake like that too. Mitch thought back to the crushes she +had had in boarding school, awful emotional orgies in +which she had idolized certain teachers, and Miss English, +the dietician, and there had never been any boys. +Until Leda, there had been no one who had set her whole +body pulsing with the sweet pain and the glory in the +end. That was abnormal. +</p> + +<p> +Jan was looking at Mitch, waiting for an answer to +the question Mitch did not hear. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda smiled. “Jan said, ‘Who’s your man of the hour?’ +It’s Charlie, isn’t it, Mitch? Isn’t he the one?” +</p> + +<p> +The needle came through the wool in the skirt and +pricked Mitch’s finger. She tried to force a smile, but her +lips felt dry and stiff. She knew that Leda was baiting her, +trying to indicate the proper answer to Mitch. “I guess +so,” Mitch said. “I guess he’s the one.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a mixed look of repulsion and pity on Jan’s +face when she regarded Mitch. Mitch could feel it, like +the heat of a warm sun, uncomfortable and sickly. She +<a id="page-95" class="pagenum" title="95"></a> +wished that they would go someplace and not stay here in +the room and she felt that Jan knew she was abnormal. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s he like?” Jan continued. “I bet he’s a big +wheel on campus and you’ll be wearing his pin before +long.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda jumped up to change the subject and grabbed a +yellow envelope from the desk. “I forgot to show you the +pictures,” she said. “I forgot to show you the pictures +Jake and I took on our last picnic.” She fumbled with +the seal on the envelope until the pictures fell out on the +bed and Jan picked them up and riffled through them, +laughing and screaming out her words the way she did. +Mitch was grateful when Casey poked her head in the +door and said, “Phone for you, Mitch. Want to take it in +the hall?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let us disturb you, honey,” Jan sang out, but +Mitch had already moved for the door and followed the +blue hall rug down to the booth near the bathroom. +</p> + +<p> +“Peculiar girl,” Jan said. “Certainly is awkward.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda passed another snapshot to Jan. It would be over +tomorrow. Jan would leave and it would be over, Leda +thought, and then she could make it up to Mitch. It had +been horrible, the last few days, treating Mitch as though +she were a piece of furniture, Jan’s presence heightening +the guilt that Leda nurtured. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she popular?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know, Jan,” Leda answered. “She goes out +a lot. Really, she can be sweet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <em>I</em> haven’t even seen her smile. Not once. Her +lips just stretch, but she doesn’t smile. You don’t even +seem like friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “We get along all right.” +</p> + +<p> +Jan lit a cigarette and stuck the end into a long ivory +holder. “I do like the other girls,” she said. “I thought +you’d probably get yourself all graduated before I could +get down here and see your sorority house and meet +<a id="page-96" class="pagenum" title="96"></a> +everyone. Dwight is hell about traveling. I told you I +went to Louisville by myself for the fabric show, and he +just stayed behind. He <em>hates</em> to travel.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda had met Dwight during the summer. He was a +fat, greasy man with a stubby cigar, wet on the end, hanging +there from his mouth, and his head thinly covered +with single strands of black hair that began inches back +from his high forehead. On his little finger he wore a +huge diamond ring, and there was a sweet, sickly smell +of cologne and tobacco about him. Dwight was a big man +in fabrics and Jan worked with him. She would come +home and open the door and Leda would hear his voice +behind Jan’s, and then the shaking of the cocktail mixer +and the ice cubes, the low music on the phonograph and +Jan’s laughter ringing through the rooms. He had looked +at Leda and shown his brown teeth and he’d said, “Well, +now, by God. An apple never falls far from the tree!” +</p> + +<p> +“You going to marry Dwight?” Leda asked. +</p> + +<p> +Jan inhaled and let the smoke come out in tiny round +clouds. “I don’t know. I’d never have to worry where my +next thousand is coming from. He hasn’t asked me yet, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Glancing at her watch, Leda said, “Maybe we better +go downstairs. It’s almost time for dinner. Fish tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hell!” Jan swore. “I abhor fish! Member Ted Thorpton? +Member the way he used to drag me around to those +damn fish houses for lobster Newburgh? I think you came +along a couple of times too, honey. You member? Washington? +Member that place we went down a gangplank +to get to and there was sawdust on the floor and that +ungodly fishy odor?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda nodded. She remembered. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Robin Maurer put the arm back in its cradle and left +the phone booth. Lucifer was leaning against the brick +wall of the dorm reading the newspaper. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-97" class="pagenum" title="97"></a> +“Any luck?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s too late for tonight. She says she’s got some +kind of a special date with a guy named Charlie. No telling +what that sorority has thought up. She’s probably +going off to smoke opium someplace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you ask her to join us? Her and that +Charlie horse?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did. She said she couldn’t. She said it was a special +night. Who knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you tell her the party was right across the street +at Delta Phi? Maybe she’s lazy. Maybe she thought it was +someplace she’d have to hike to.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Robin said, pulling a leaf off the tree as they +passed down the walk from Main Dorm. “I think she +might have a good date or something and wants to be +alone with him. Then too, maybe the Tri Eps forbade +her to be seen with an old reprobate like me.” They +turned the corner and kicked the leaves while they +walked. “Tell me something, Luke,” she said, “honestly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about your fraternity brothers? Don’t they give +you a bad time because you date me? I know how independents +go over in Greek Town.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucifer reached over for her hand and swung it back +and forth while they walked along. “Naw,” he said, “not +at our house. We ain’t rich and we don’t know anyone +who is. We ditched the rule book a long time ago. That’s +how come I got in. You know, I’m pure Indian, with a +little Russian on my mother’s side, and a little Chinese +on my father’s. Seriously, Robbie, it ain’t that way at the +house. Sure, we got eager beavers with all kinds of fool +notions, but none of them go into effect. I couldn’t stomach +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish Mitch would get out of Tri Ep. I have a feeling +she’s not going to stomach it either. The whole crowd’s +too fast.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-98" class="pagenum" title="98"></a> +“How about that Leda?” Lucifer whistled. “Woooooowwww!” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The candles were lighted on the tables in the Tri Ep +dining room. At the head table, Leda and Jan sat opposite +Mother Nessy, and Marsha sat beside her. Above the +other voices singing out, Mitch could hear Kitten Clark’s +lively soprano. Nessy tapped on her glass, giving the signal +to eat. Mitch sat at a side table in the back of the +room. Her fork stabbed at the thin pieces of white fish, +and pushed them in the mashed potatoes before she +raised the fork to her mouth and swallowed the tasteless +concoction. She thought of calling Robin back and telling +her that Charlie and she would meet them after all, +but then she could not. It was all planned. She would +pick him up in the car at eight-thirty. They would have +to be alone, Mitch knew, or it would never work. The +food felt heavy in her stomach, and she took each bite +with a long sip of water. Casey sat across from her, still +talking about the swimming team, encouraging Mitch to +join it. +</p> + +<p> +“You were terrific the other day,” she said. “With +enough practice you could develop fast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come over again on Monday,” Mitch told her. +Through the maze of faces, Mitch saw Leda look at her +and then away. She heard Jan’s voice, louder than any +other, and the inevitable laughter following what she +said. Mitch wondered if she ever said anything you were +not supposed to laugh at. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s your backstroke? That’s what we need. Someone +with a neat backstroke.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have to get more time in. It used to be my best +stroke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say, wasn’t that Robin Maurer on the phone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +The others at the table looked up, interested. “I +<a id="page-99" class="pagenum" title="99"></a> +thought I recognized her voice,” Casey said. “How is +she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty good. She’s living at the dorm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad about Robin,” Casey sighed. “She just wasn’t +sorority material.” +</p> + +<p> +It was during dessert, when they sang the “Sweetheart +Song,” that Mitch could feel Leda’s eyes watching her. +Heat poured through Mitch, and there was a light yearning +in her breasts that seeped through the rest of her +body and warmed her. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Tri Epsilon is a sisterhood</p> + <p class="verse">Of love that lasts forever,</p> + <p class="verse">Where memories are golden ones</p> + <p class="verse">That are forgotten never!</p> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Tri Epsilon, Tri Epsilon,</p> + <p class="verse">For her name we will strive</p> + <p class="verse">So long as we are sisters,</p> + <p class="verse">So long as we’re alive.”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Marsha led the applause, and then, rising and standing +at her place at the head table, she waited for the room +to quiet down. “Remember,” she said, “closing hours are +at one tonight because of the game tomorrow. That’s an +extra half hour, so don’t anyone be late. And now I +think we all ought to say good-by to Mrs. Taylor. She’s +leaving us tomorrow, and I know we’ve all enjoyed her +visit.” Marsha hummed the note. The words sounded sad +and heartfelt. +</p> + +<div class="poem-container"> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="verse">“Won’t you come back? We’ll miss you.</p> + <p class="verse">Will you remember our love?</p> + <p class="verse">Good-by, good luck, we’ll miss you,</p> + <p class="verse">We send our prayer for you above.</p> + <p class="verse">Will you remember our love?”</p> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a id="page-100" class="pagenum" title="100"></a> +Jane Bell jumped up and started a round of “For She’s +a Jolly Good Fellow.” The smile was glued on Jan’s face, +and Mitch could hear her saying, “Lovely, simply lovely,” +all the while. Mitch wondered if her mother would have +said that, and if they would have sung to her. And what +her mother would have thought if she were alive and +knew what Mitch was planning. She pushed her chair +back with the others while Mother Nessy rose regally +and took Marsha’s arm, to be led from the dining room. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you stay for more coffee?” Casey said to +Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch explained that she had an early date. She swallowed +what was there in her cup, and hurried upstairs +to dress before Leda and Jan returned to the room. They +were going out with Jake for the evening. Jan thought it +would be “a perfect riot.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The car kicked up the gravel when it left the drive and +spun around the corner. Mitch was not used to driving +at night, but she knew the town well now. She turned on +the radio and a lusty torch song sang out at her. The +streets were not very crowded, and passing through +Greek Town, Mitch saw the lights in other houses, shining +and showing the figures of boys and girls moving in +the large rooms. As she came near the campus, she admired +the long walks, well lighted, and the great oak +trees bordering the walks, and a few solitary figures strolling +along them. The traffic increased as she approached +the main street, and went fast down to the light. After +she left it, she stopped again a few blocks down in +front of the drugstore. Charlie was waiting there. He had +a neat black-and-gray checked sports coat and gray pants, +and under his arm a paper bag. When he saw her pull up, +he grinned and hurried toward the car. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi,” he called. “Right on time.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door and moved in next to her. As they +<a id="page-101" class="pagenum" title="101"></a> +drove out toward the Creek Road, he said, “I got the +bottle. You know, it’ll be fun. We’ve got a real moon, too. +Did you remember the blankets?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch nodded and motioned toward the back seat, +where the brown blankets were folded beside the bottles +of ginger ale and the opener. +</p> + +<p> +“I brought sandwiches too,” Charlie said. “Had Doc +make some up for me. Say, this was a swell idea. How’d +you ever think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +The husky crooner sang out on the radio and a tenor +saxophone chimed in and gave the music a soothing, +smoothing air. Mitch put her foot down harder on the +gas pedal. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +It was one of those clear, brisk November nights and +the ground was hard and cold when they sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“I got rye,” Charlie said. “Supposed to be easier on +you. I’m not much of a drinker, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch spread one blanket on the ground while Charlie +dragged the other over and the bottles of ginger ale. He +took paper cups from the bag with the liquor bottle inside, +and pried the tops off the bottles. Pouring two +drinks, he set them on the ground beside Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +“My first time out here,” he said after he sipped his +drink. “You ever been out here before?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch said, remembering the last time. “No.” +</p> + +<p> +The air felt good on her face, and from the car a few +feet away Mitch could hear the lush tones of a low piano. +Above them hung a round moon the way it looks in +November. She thought of Leda, and leaning back until +her head touched the blanket, she closed her eyes and +pictured it again. <em>You aren’t going to just stand there? +I couldn’t love you if you were a Lesbian.</em> +</p> + +<p> +With her hand supporting her head like that, she +could hear the steady tick-tick of her wrist watch. He was +beside her, talking and filling the paper cups with fresh +<a id="page-102" class="pagenum" title="102"></a> +drinks, then reaching for her hand. She turned toward +him, and they kissed. She could hear him sigh, “Susan,” +in the breaking away, holding her. His heart was beating +very fast. They kissed again, and this time Mitch tried +to imagine Leda and for a moment she could feel her lips +until the roughness of his cheeks brushed against hers. +She drank her third drink straight down. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to know something?” he said. His voice +sounded strange and falsely hallowed. Mitch felt an impulse +to smile. She knew what he would say. “I love you, +Susan. I do, no kidding.” +</p> + +<p> +In the near distance Mitch could hear the announcer: +“United States Weather Bureau forecast for Cranston +and vicinity: Ten <span class="scall">P.M.</span> temperature, forty-five degrees; +humidity, fifty per cent. Barometer, two nine point nine +nine, rising. Tonight, clear, becoming cloudy toward +morning....” +</p> + +<p> +Charlie’s hand climbed from her waist until it touched +her breast and then drew back sharply. “I’m sorry,” he +said. “I’m sorry, Susan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be,” Mitch said, and then, “I love you too—Charlie.” +</p> + +<p> +He was gentle and kind. There was a slow awkwardness +to his kisses, and his hands came on her almost +apologetically, fumbling, his voice mumbling, “Susan,” +over and over, and the stiffness to his body. When he +found her, she said, “Charlie, let’s move to the car.” +</p> + +<p> +They left the blanket and the bottles, and as he pushed +the seat back for her, he pressed the tab of the radio off. +Sitting on the leather seat, he put his arm around her and +held her there, his lips touching her neck, wet and hot +on her skin. “Gee,” he kept saying. “Oh, gee, Susan. Is it +all right? Should we—” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch was afraid because it still was not the way it +was with Leda. It was empty and aimless. He was sweet +and shy and he loved her. If it was not now, then when? +<a id="page-103" class="pagenum" title="103"></a> +When ever? She reached out and touched his hair, a +cheated feeling inside of her when her hand touched his +ears and his neck and there was no hair there. “Do <em>you</em> +want to?” she said. “Do you really want to?” +</p> + +<p> +He could barely talk. His voice was a thick whisper. +“Gosh,” he said. “Oh, yes. I do. Listen, Susan, I’ve never +touched a girl. Honestly, never once in my life. I—I have +something in my wallet. Look, I know what you must +think because I have it with me, but I swear—I swear that +I just always carry it and I never thought—” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “I know. It’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +She lay down on the leather seat, cramped, so that her +feet came off the end. Charlie was kneeling on the floor +of the car, and, kneeling like that, he began to kiss her +again, and pull at her sweater, until he had it open and +the hooks undone. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time he kissed her, and the open windows +let the breeze in. +</p> + +<p> +“Susan,” he kept muttering, “Susan, I really love you. +I really love you, Susan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” she said. “I know you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re cold,” he said. “I can feel you’re cold when I +touch you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt the chill through her whole body. “Hurry,” +she said. “Please hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +His hands clutched her desperately, and he began to +whine in a strange way. After a moment he sat back on +the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, Charlie. I told you it was all right. I’ll +put my sweater on. Then I won’t be cold and you won’t +have to hurry and—” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he whispered. “No. I just—can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +His shoulders shook violently as he began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch dressed while he sat there. She got out of the +car and went over to the ground where the blankets were. +<a id="page-104" class="pagenum" title="104"></a> +When she came back with them, he was sitting up on the +seat in the back, staring down at the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Charlie—” Mitch began. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head and did not look at her. “I want to +go home,” he said. “Just drop me off when we get back +in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry. I—Was it me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to ever talk +about it!” +</p> + +<p> +She put the blankets down beside him and got into the +front seat. When they were off the dirt road and on the +highway, she snapped the radio on again. Through the +mirror, she could see his figure slumped over, his hands +holding his chin, his eyes fixed on the side window. When +they reached town, he got out of the car and did not look +back. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +They sat on Mother Nesselbush’s purple love seat, in +the small beige-walled anteroom of her suite on the first +floor of the Tri Epsilon house. There were Mother Rasmussen, +Mother Muriel, and Mother Carter, seated across +from Nessy, whose large hips hugged the lime-colored +cushions of the chair facing them. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought she was very strange,” Mother Carter said, +balancing the plate on her lap. There was a huge mound +of whipped cream piled high above the fresh red fruit +and the yellow cake. “I mean, hitting a boy with a vase.” +</p> + +<p> +“A what!” Mother Muriel gasped and licked the spoon +from her own shortcake. “You mean she did that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, now,” Mother Nessy said, “let sleeping dogs +die.” She tittered. “After all, the whole thing was forgotten. +He did attend our housewarming with Susan, so +you can see it was forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +There was an elaborate silence, except for the clink of +the spoons on the <a id="corr-6"></a>plates. Mother Muriel had a knowing +smile at the edge of her lips. She was perfectly aware that +<a id="page-105" class="pagenum" title="105"></a> +Mother Nesselbush was trying to quell the story. Every +Saturday night they met in one or the other’s small suite, +exchanging gossip, and relating the exciting little incidents +attached to the duties of housemother. Mother +Muriel and Mother Carter agreed that it was not quite +fair to include Nessy in their parties, because Nessy was +a Tri Ep alumna. She could hardly be expected to give a +fair or accurate appraisal of the situation in her house. +It was so obvious that she was biased. Mother Rasmussen, +on the other hand, was a thorough dunderhead. She +rarely had anything to say. Each week she attended the +get-together, ate heartily, and seemed to listen to the talk +somewhat vaguely, with an aimless smile on her face, +perpetually scratching the exzema on her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate,” Mother Nessy moved to conclude the +conversation about Susan Mitchell, “the alums are so +pleased that we took this girl, they’re sending us a splendid +set of sterling. It should arrive any day now.” +</p> + +<p> +The front door slammed vigorously. Mother Nesselbush +moved to the curtains of her French doors and +stared into the hall. “Speak of the devil,” she said, “and +the devil appears.” She looked at her watch, and noted +that it was just eleven-forty-five. “Early, too,” she added, +“for a one-o’clock night.” +</p> + +<p> +She pulled the French doors open and called after +Mitch. “Susan, dear, are you all right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine, thanks.” Mitch started up the steps but stopped +halfway. +</p> + +<p> +“Come down here,” Mother Nesselbush said, “and +meet my guests.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, Nessy. I look just terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d appreciate it, Susan. They’ll understand. Now, +come on.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned and walked back down. Mother Nessy +took her arm and led her into the room. Instantly Mitch +recognized the white, pasty face of Mother Carter. She +<a id="page-106" class="pagenum" title="106"></a> +smiled grimly at her, and she said, “Hello, Mother +Carter.” +</p> + +<p> +She said hello to the others, passing by them, shaking +their wrinkled, bony hands, being careful not to upset +their plates. +</p> + +<p> +Her heart was pounding faster as she stood there and +made polite conversation. They all seemed to be observing +her as though she were a freak of some sort. Then +Mother Nessy said, “Your father called tonight, dear. He +was very anxious because you haven’t written in weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch passed her hand through her hair uncomfortably. +“Gee,” she said, “I guess I just forgot.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s easy to forget when you’re young.” Mother Muriel +sighed. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stood there, uncertain how she could leave them. +She said, “Well, thanks, Mother Nessy. I’m so messy, I +think I’ll take a good hot bath. And I’ll drop him a line +tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do that,” Mother Nessy said, her hand around Mitch’s +waist, “because you know how parents worry, dear. I +know when my son doesn’t write, I just get wild that +something’s happened to him.” +</p> + +<p> +A faint smile flickered across Mitch’s face as she turned +at the French doors and looked back at the women there. +When the doors were shut, she went toward the kitchen, +swung through the door, and turned the light on. She +poured a tall glass of milk and spread butter on a piece +of bread from the square red tin. Sitting on the stool, she +felt a knot, burning and twisting, inside her, and her +eyes felt tired and irritated. The news of her father’s call +was the final thrust, the inevitable irony of the evening. +She ached to call him back and tell him that she wanted +to come home, but she knew what he would say. He +would say, “Now, pretty black-eyed Susan, a big girl like +you isn’t homesick.” Or he would have one of his standard +sentences for her, like the signs that hung around +<a id="page-107" class="pagenum" title="107"></a> +the walls of his office: “A quitter never wins and a winner +never quits.” “Keep on keeping on.” “If someone +hands you a lemon, squeeze it and start a lemonade +stand.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a free feeling in Mitch about Leda. At that +moment she could not have cared less about Leda, she +told herself; she simply could not care less. Charlie was +a name. There was no Charlie and no Creek Road and +nothing that had happened had happened. She sipped +her milk slowly. She thought back on the day she had +won the swimming championship for Gross Hall. How +everyone had cheered and yelled her name. Four years +ago, when she was in her first year at Gross. +</p> + +<p> +The house was quiet. Mitch finished her milk and +walked up the back stairs. There were a few lights on in +the rooms she passed. One girl’s head was bent over a +book as she sat at her desk. Mitch went on until she +reached her room. After she undressed, she lay on the +bed with the lights off and the covers kicked back. She +unbuttoned the top of her pajamas and drew a deep +breath, but it was unsatisfying and stuffy. Mental pieces +of the cracked picture of Charlie and her seemed to hang +around in her thoughts and she could see some of them, +but she did not think about them. She thought of sleeping +and she slept. +</p> + +<p> +They were pointing at her and laughing. She was running +down the street naked and her body was changing. +At a corner she stopped to catch her breath and lean on +the fat green storage box. She called out to them to stop +laughing at her and her voice was deep and low like a +man’s. Leda tried to get out of the storage box, but she +held the door tight because Leda was naked too, and if +she got out they would know. She saw her father coming +down the street, calling her name, softly, calling her +name, and she felt his hands on her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s going to be all right.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-108" class="pagenum" title="108"></a> +“Leave me alone, Dad.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Mitch, wake up, honey. It’s me. It’s going to be +different now.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. No, go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch, Jan’s gone back. She gets me excited, sometimes +I lose my head when Jan’s around. She makes me +nervous. Don’t send me away now, Mitch. Now that it’s +over. I’m back here, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes opened and it was dark. Leda’s arm was holding +her as she lay in bed beside Mitch. She was talking, +and as she talked, Mitch could smell the odor of beer on +her breath. Her own mouth tasted foul from the rye. She +had not had enough to be drunk from it, but the taste +was still there. Was Charlie drunk? He couldn’t do it to +her. There was something wrong with her because he +didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t look back at +her. Leda clung to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch, please talk to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t have anything to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you love me? Don’t you even want to touch +me?” +</p> + +<p> +The words brought the stir back inside Mitch and she +felt a warm spring of desire, but it was physical and opposite +from the way she knew she was then. “You said—you +said you couldn’t love a—Lesbian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God, kid, listen—I talk crazy. I’m crazy the way I +talk. You’re no more that than I am. Hell, you know +that. Look, Mitch, it was because Jan was here. I said so +many damn things. Jan causes that. I know the way I +treated you. I’m sorry. God, I am!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch didn’t want to, but she lay there and felt it happening. +She squeezed her eyes shut and lay there. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t do what you can do,” Leda said huskily. “I’m +not like you, but I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why am I different?” Mitch wanted to know why. +She wanted to stop Leda’s hands and find out why. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-109" class="pagenum" title="109"></a> +“You’re really stronger than I am. You really are. When +you had me the other night, I knew it. It was—wonderful.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was different because I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Leda said, “because you’re strong. But you’ll see. +I’ll learn to do it like that too, because I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t learn,” Mitch said. “I didn’t learn.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda kissed her. “Maybe it was natural.” She kissed +her again and her hand stayed there, hurting Mitch now. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch sat up in bed. “It wasn’t,” she said. “It was not! +Leave me alone. You can’t love me. Leave me alone, and—ohhh!” +The sobbing was too loud. Leda hurried out of +the bed and into her pajamas. She turned her covers +down, and when she tried to make Mitch stop crying, +Mitch wailed louder. “Someone will hear you,” Leda +said, “and they’ll come,” but the sounds stopped in minutes, +and no one came. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +There was a single light above the bureau in the +small room. The heat of the light bulb had burned a +brown imprint in the dull green lampshade. Around the +room on the walls there was a worn pattern of hounds, +and men dressed in red coats, which were once brilliant +red, but now dirty and faded. On the floor there was a +skimpy rag scatter rug, and there was a single closet to +the left of the door. Near the one window that looked out +on the Cranston reservoir and water tower, there was a +small cot covered sparsely with a brown Army blanket. +He sat on the cot, an open Bible in his lap, his face covered +with his hands. Next to the bureau there was a sink, +and he got up and went to the sink and took the soap and +ran the water. He washed his hands and dried them on +the shabby white towel, returning to stand near the cot +and stare out the window. Then he picked the Bible up +again, and read aloud softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Against thee only have I sinned and done this evil in +<a id="page-110" class="pagenum" title="110"></a> +thy sight; that thou mightest be justified when thou +speakest, and be clear when thou judgest. Behold, I was +shapen in iniquity....” +</p> + +<p> +He could not finish. He threw the Bible on the cot. +The gold letters spelling out “Charles Edmonson” +seemed brighter in the dull lighting of the room. Remembering +Susan Mitchell, he blamed her. He could +hear the laughter of other boys coming up the stairs, and +the heavy treading of their feet on the warped wooden +floors in the hall. Doors slammed and again there was a +stillness except for the very distant murmuring of voices +through the thin walls. His mother’s picture was set up +on the bureau and he looked at it for a long time. Beside +the picture there was a hard-covered notebook with +the words “Record Book” in white on the black cover. +He opened it and turned the pages. Unscrewing the pen +on the top of the bureau, he took the pen and the notebook +and went back to the cot. Before he wrote, he +thought a minute. +</p> + +<div class="diary"> +<p class="date"> +November 5th +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I was wrong about Susan. I admit that it was my fault +too, but it was her idea to get the liquor and go out +there with the blankets. She did not try to stop me. I +had too much to drink and I never acted that way before. +I thank God in heaven that I was stopped—that +God knew best for me, and that He gave me my warning. +I shall never lose his faith in me again.... +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +He looked back at what he wrote. He scratched out the +small letter “h” on the “his” and capitalized it. Then he +put the record book back on the bureau, stared again at +the picture of his mother, and moved to the sink, turning +the tap water on gently, and reaching for the soap with +his hands. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-8"> +<a id="page-111" class="pagenum" title="111"></a> +Chapter Eight +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +The green line at the bottom of the swimming pool +grew fat and then thin with the even ripples of the blue +water. The room, long and wide, was lined to the ceiling +with tile, and the voices of the girls assembled there rang +as though they were all shouting at one another from +across the water and from the balcony stairs. Mitch stood +with the others along the edge of the pool, the pungent +smell of chlorine in her nostrils, a washed-out gray tank +suit clinging to her body, freshly wet from the sprinkler +through which she had passed at the entrance to the +locker room. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jennings, the instructor, separated from the rest +by the fact that she alone wore a gay plaid swimming +suit and carried a whistle on a string around her neck +and wore no cap, called the role. +</p> + +<p> +“Abbott,” she began, “Barry, Craig, Caroway, Feitzer, +Jamison, Lathrop, Maurer, Mitchell....” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned sharply. Robin was here, then. She +scanned the faces of those around her, strangely alike +with the white caps pulled down to their ears and across +their foreheads, leaving no clues as to the color of their +hair. Robin was standing at the head of the pool near +the diving board. She waved and smiled, but it was +against the rules to move about when roll was being +taken. +</p> + +<p> +Standing beside Mitch, Marybell Van Casey said, “I +didn’t know Robin Maurer could swim.” +</p> + +<p> +“All in, now!” +</p> + +<p> +The water was too warm and it tasted bad. Mitch dove +down to the wobbly green line and brought up the round +<a id="page-112" class="pagenum" title="112"></a> +black rubber puck as she came to the top, letting it sink +again as she caught her breath and trod water while she +listened to the instructions for the relay with the Australian +crawl. Then the backstroke, the flutter kick, the +side stroke, and the whistle. +</p> + +<p> +“All out!” +</p> + +<p> +They all stood dripping at the sides, pulling their caps +up from their ears so they could hear better, punching +the sides of their heads to let the water out. +</p> + +<p> +“As it stands, the following stay: Caroway, Lathrop, +Maurer, Mitchell, Marin, Orhoski, Rogers, Van Casey, +and Walker. Next week, we’ll narrow down to six, with +the others doubling. Play period for those who want to +stay.” She blew a shrill period with her whistle, and +climbed up on the white ladder chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful,” Casey said, slipping as she reached +Mitch. “Two Tri Eps made it. Best ever. We’ll be there +next week, too.” +</p> + +<p> +It had been easy. Mitch smiled back at Casey. Over her +shoulder she saw Robin leaving, going toward the lockers. +“I’m not going to stay,” Mitch said. “I’m pooped. +See you at the house.” +</p> + +<p> +She caught up with Robin at the showers. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, stranger!” Robin said. “Say, you’re good. I saw +that crawl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Robin, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it Saturday. Thanks +again for asking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it,” Robin said, pulling her suit off and working +the knobs of the shower. “I know what you have to +go through over in Greek Town. Social calendar like the +Astors.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “No, I went out alone. With an independent.” +She wished that Robin would put a towel around +her. It was hard to talk with her and keep looking above +her head or directly at her eyes or across the room. Not +down at her naked body. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-113" class="pagenum" title="113"></a> +“Gee, honey. You’re brave.” She tested the running +water. “Just right,” she said. “Wait after you get dressed. +We’ll catch a Coke.” +</p> + +<p> +The bathing suit fell to the floor in a tightly curled +knot, and the towel felt good. There was a slight feeling +of elation over Miss Jennings’ announcement that she +was not eliminated yet. It would be easy to make the +team, Mitch thought, and that would help at the house. +She would know some of the others better, like Casey and +Marsha and Jane Bell. The thought made her feel clean, +not like the thought of Leda and those things. But where +was Leda? She had spent yesterday with Jake, from early +morning to closing hours, and Jan was gone. It was because +of the way she had cried Saturday, and Leda was +proud. Mitch knew that Leda had done it purposely, to +hurt her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going with Jake for the day,” she had said Sunday +morning, early, after breakfast and the phone call she +had made. “See you around.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, Mitch, you dressed?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be drying my hair.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch zipped the side of her skirt and pulled the +sweater over her damp head. With the towel around her +shoulders, she combed and parted her hair and took the +lipstick to the mirror. I love Leda, she thought. I love +Leda. I hurt her. I’ll always hurt her because I am that +way. I’m what she said I was. Leda loves both but I love +one. In the mirror, the wetness of her hair gave it a +bobbed look, and the reflection was like that of a young +boy. Mitch moved her hands up and pushed her hair +back from her ears and studied the effect. Her face looked +fresh from the swim, her eyes bright, the straight hair +darker, and slicked back mannishly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey,” Casey said, standing behind her in her swim +suit, “you look like Sonny Tufts with lipstick.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-114" class="pagenum" title="114"></a> +Mitch jumped and stepped away from the mirror. She +stuttered and felt heat rise to her head. “I w-was w-w-orrying +ab-bout what to d-do with my hair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t get so upset. Why don’t you dry it first?” +</p> + +<p> +“Y-yes,” Mitch said, hurrying away toward the dryers. +</p> + +<p> +Casey flung the towel over her shoulder and moved +down past the white curtains to an empty booth. She +thought, She’s an odd one. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Robin twisted the straw in her Coke glass. “I suppose +you’re trying to make the better of the bitter,” she said, +“but you don’t sound very happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most of it’s my own fault,” Mitch answered. “It’s because +of the way I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Mitch! You’re a healthy, normal American girl, +by Jupiter, and that bunch is from hunger. You don’t +know. Over at the dorm, everything’s easy, the way it +should be. Some people fit like gloves into that sorority +routine, and others—well, they’re better off elsewhere. +Take a tip from me, sweetie, come on over to the dorm. +We have lots of extra beds.” +</p> + +<p> +The minute hand on the wall clock moved forward +with a perceptible jerk. “French class,” Mitch said, +fumbling in her coat for a dime to lay on the table. “I’ll +have to run. I don’t know, Robin. Maybe I just won’t fit +in anyplace. You don’t know me.” +</p> + +<p> +Robin gathered her books up and pushed two nickels +across the table. “I know <em>you</em>. There’s nothing wrong +with you that a good taste of independent life won’t +cure. See you next week—and think it over. Gad, I sound +like a recruiting station.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Even if Charlie hadn’t acted that way in French class, +Mitch would have gone there anyway, eventually. He +merely added to the reasons. It was happening all the +time, everyplace. In the gym earlier, the way she had felt +<a id="page-115" class="pagenum" title="115"></a> +when Robin was naked, and in front of the mirror with +her hair like that. Ever since she had heard the word. It +was like picking up a book and reading the things the +main character did and said and his description and +thinking vaguely, at first, Why, I’m that way a little. +Then more, until the realization comes like a giant +boulder down the hill and crashes into you, pulverizing +you with the knowledge that this <em>is</em> you, this character. +“Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.” +It says here. +</p> + +<p> +Charlie sat in the back by the window. She could feel +his eyes. The short walk between the gym and Jacob Hall +had taken the curl from her hair and left it the way it was +before she had rolled it on pins and sat with the hot air +blowing it dry under the big machine. It was straight. +<em>Why</em> couldn’t he do it? What was it she had read? Exactly? +“A strong congenital trend ... risk to associate +with a girl who has these traits....” What? Did he know +about her? He had brought that thing in his wallet and +he had wanted to. Was there something on her body that +showed it? She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, and +listened to the slow, calculated conjugation of the verb +<em>avoir</em>. +</p> + +<p> +Her name was called. “<em>Levez-vous! Allez au tableau +noir et conjugez le verbe être.</em>” +</p> + +<p> +The chalk dropped from her hand in the middle. She +turned to pick it up and saw him look away from her +and out the window. He knew. +</p> + +<p> +At the end, he didn’t wait. Mitch walked toward the +library alone. There was a huge arch above the door, and +inside the halls were quiet except for the slight tap of the +shoes on the marble floors as the boy behind her walked +down toward the Science Reading Room. At the head of +the stairs, Mitch turned right and walked to the silent +room where the tables were in rows, and the people at +the tables sat hushed before their work. She picked the +<a id="page-116" class="pagenum" title="116"></a> +volume out easily from the shelf and chose a chair at a +back table where no one sat. +</p> + +<p> +“The female homosexual, the Lesbian, often preys on +girls who are not true homosexuals. Such girls may enjoy +men, and be capable of normal heterosexual life if +they do not become involved with a genuine Lesbian +type, whose technique is often more skillful than that of +many of her young men suitors.” +</p> + +<p> +<em>Men come first with me.</em> +</p> + +<p> +<em>Maybe it was natural.</em> +</p> + +<p> +“A normal man finds sex with this type of woman extremely +difficult, if not impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +<em>I can’t.</em> +</p> + +<p> +<em>No, I just can’t!</em> +</p> + +<p> +“Many times, under the proper circumstances, a female +homosexual may learn to control, if not eliminate, her +active homosexual tendencies once she is removed from +an environment where the temptation is great. In the +case of....” +</p> + +<p> +<em>Take a tip from me, sweetie, come on over to the dorm.</em> +</p> + +<p> +“But, on the other hand, a change in environment may +only lead to new conquests, a fresh hunting ground.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch closed the book and put it back on the shelf. A +dog wandered listlessly into the large room. He barked, +wagging his shabby white tail, looking around at everyone. +Laughter rocked the silence, and the dog increased +his barking, running excitedly from table to table. The +librarian in the room, a thin woman with pursed lips, +hurried feverishly toward the fleeing animal. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” she whispered ridiculously. “Here, here.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch sat down again at the back table. She watched +the woman take the dog by the collar and lead him with +his back feet skidding across the floors and out the door. +Again the hush fell back save for a few lingering giggles. +Mitch tore a large sheet of paper from her notebook and +wrote, stopping now and then to stare gloomily at the +<a id="page-117" class="pagenum" title="117"></a> +books that circled the wall. From a good distance down +the hall, she could hear the dog barking in another room. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +It was a gray afternoon, and the sun was hidden behind +a sheet of dull sky, with the wind kicking the leaves along +the curb in front of the Tri Epsilon house, where they +stood talking. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll pick you up after the meeting,” he said. “We +could squeeze in a few beers at Rick’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not tonight, Jake-O. I’m tired. Think I’ll catch up on +sleep. Those Monday-night chapter orgies wear me +down.” +</p> + +<p> +She was thinking that Mitch would be waiting in the +room. Before dinner she would tell Mitch that she was +going out with Jake when the chapter meeting let out, +and then she would surprise her. She’d say, “Do you +think I could go out with him when I knew you were up +here? I can’t kid myself any longer, Mitch.” Maybe that +would erase the nervous undercurrent of tension between +them since Jan had gone. It would be more dramatic that +way, surprising her like that. +</p> + +<p> +“O.K., I’ll give you a ring.” He took the pipe out of his +mouth and leaned over to kiss her quickly. Jake was funny +the way he sang aloud in the streets. He walked away +singing, “Oh, here by the fire we defy the frost and +storm,” and Leda heard him as she walked up the steps +and came into the front room of the house. The thought +came that if Jake were gone forever, it would be strange, +but if the choice were to be made, it would be Jake who +would go. Not Mitch. Was she upstairs? She teased her +own curiosity, prolonging it, sweetening it by tarrying +in the hall downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +To the left of the dining room there was a small alcove, +with square boxes and names printed evenly above each +one. In her box there was an envelope with her name +scrawled on the outside, and no postage or address. Girls +<a id="page-118" class="pagenum" title="118"></a> +were coming down the stairs, milling around in the halls, +waiting for the dinner gong. They were reading the +papers, playing cards, singing at the piano, and talking +together in close, separate groups. Leda took the envelope +to the scarlet chair in the corner near the entrance +to Mother Nessy’s suite. She ripped the seal open and +held the thin notebook paper in her hand. +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="addr"> +Dear Leda, +</p> + +<p> +This letter is for you alone. Please tear it up when +you are through. +</p> + +<p> +More than anything else I want you to understand +what I’m going to say here, and why I’m saying it. I +want to leave the sorority and become an independent. +Maybe it’ll be the best thing for me, and maybe it’ll +be just another defeat, but I have to do it. Leda, +darling, you know that I love you. You know it, even +though I haven’t shown it the past few days. I’ve been +worried and afraid, and now I know for sure what’s +wrong with me. I suppose I should go to a doctor, but +I don’t have the nerve, and I’m going to try to help +myself as best I can. +</p> + +<p> +Lesbian is an ugly word and I hate it. But that’s what +I am, Leda, and my feelings toward you are homosexual. +I had no business to ask you to stop seeing Jake, +to try to turn you into what I am, but please believe +me, I didn’t know myself what I was doing. I guess I’m +young and stupid and naïve about life, and I know +that you warned me about the direction my life was +taking when you told me to get to know men. I tried, +Leda. But it was awful. Even Charlie knows what I +am now. I think that if I go to an independent house, +away from you, the only person I love, I’ll be able to +forget some of the temptation. If I stay in the sorority, +I’ll only make you unhappy and hurt you. I love you +too much to do that. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-119" class="pagenum" title="119"></a> +Please announce that I am leaving during the chapter +meeting tonight. Don’t tell them why, please, because +I want to straighten myself out and I don’t want +people to know. Tell them that I thank them for all +they’ve done, but that I’d rather live somewhere else +because I don’t fit in here. +</p> + +<p> +I know how you’ll feel about me after reading this. +I’ll try to stay out of your way. Tonight I am going to +eat dinner downtown, and then during chapter meeting +I’ll pack most of my things and move to the hotel +until I get a room at the dorm. Robin Maurer is going +to help me. +</p> + +<p> +There’s nothing else to say but good-by, I’m sorry, +and I do love you, Leda. +</p> + +<p class="sign"> +<span class="sc">Mitch</span> +</p> + +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +The dinner gong sounded out the first seven notes of +“Yankee Doodle.” Mother Nesselbush stood in the doorway +of her suite. She looked down at Leda, who was sitting +there holding the paper the note was written on, +not moving. It was customary for one of the girls to lead +her in to dinner. Marsha usually handled the task because +she was president, but Marsha was hurrying to +finish the last-minute preparations in the Chapter Room +for the meeting. Mother Nesselbush cleared her throat, +but to no avail. Leda sat still and pale and Nessy bent +down. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you all right, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the dinner bell, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to escort me to my table?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda looked up at her, a thin veil of tears in her eyes, +so thin that Mother Nessy did not notice. She could sense +the waiting around her, the girls waiting to go into the +dining room, Nessy waiting, the houseboys who served +<a id="page-120" class="pagenum" title="120"></a> +the food waiting for her. Standing slowly, she crooked her +arm and felt Nessy’s hand close on it as they moved across +the floor into the brightly lighted hall, past the six oak +tables to the long front table and the center seats. +</p> + +<p> +A plate of buns went from hand to hand, each girl +taking one and passing the plate mechanically, reaching +for it with the left, offering it with the right, as they had +been taught when they were pledges. The bowl of thick, +dried mashed potatoes came next, and the long dish of +wizened pork chops, the bowl of dull green canned peas, +and the individual dishes of cole slaw. When Leda tasted +the food, she felt an emetic surging throughout her body +and she laid her fork down. Around her there was a +churning gobble of voices that seemed to slice through +her brain like a meat cleaver. Mother Nessy stared after +her when she went from the room. +</p> + +<p> +“She said she was sick,” she told Kitten, “and I knew +it when I saw her before dinner. Poor thing. There’s a +flu epidemic going around, and I’m willing to bet my life +she’s got the flu.” +</p> + +<p> +The car was gone from the driveway. Leda put on the +sweater she was carrying and ran down the graveled drive. +In her hand she clutched her felt purse, and at the corner +she caught a taxi. +</p> + +<p> +At the Blue Ribbon there was a crowd of students +waiting at the rail with trays, sitting in the booths with +books piled high beside their plates, pushing and standing +near the juke box with nickels and dimes, the pin-ball +machines ringing up scores in her ears as she looked for +Mitch. +</p> + +<p> +The Den was quieter, and the waitresses were lingering +lazily around the front of the room near the bar, where +a few boys munched liverwurst sandwiches and drank +draught beer. The bartender dropped a glass and cursed +enthusiastically. Leda pushed the revolving door and +felt the cold autumn wind. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-121" class="pagenum" title="121"></a> +Mac’s, Donaldson’s, the Alley, French’s, Miss Swanson’s, +all of them alive with hungry students swarming in +and out, the smell of hamburger predominant in each +café, the sizzling crack of French fries cooking in grease +on hot open grills. +</p> + +<p> +“Ham on rye.” +</p> + +<p> +“One over easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, Mary, catch the dog.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, hell, you’re almost an hour late!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda stood finally on the curb in front of Miss Swanson’s. +She fumbled in her pocket for a nickel and ran +into the drugstore on the corner. She made a mistake +dialing the number, and she held the hook down until +the nickel came back and then tried again. When the +voice answered, there was a long wait, the far-off sound +of voices shouting down the halls, and then the answer, +quick and flip. “Robin’s out to dinner. Call back later.” +</p> + +<p> +Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the perspiration +soaking her body. If Mitch was eating with Robin, +she might have it arranged already. Where was she eating? +With the car, she could be anywhere, but it was unlike +her to drive far at night. The clock read seven-thirty. +In half an hour the chapter would meet and Mitch would +go back to the house for her bags. Leda shivered in the +night air and wished she had found Mitch before she +had a chance to see Robin and carry her plan through. +Now Leda would have to tell Marsha she was sick, that +she had gone for medicine because she was sick and she +could not attend the meeting. She would be in the room +waiting for Mitch when she came. +</p> + +<p> +A car swerved away from her as she stepped off the +sidewalk into the street. The cab driver grunted, and +skirted the curb narrowly as he drove fast. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry!” he said. “You girls always gotta be someplace +fast. That’s all I hear is ‘Hurry, driver!’ Hurry, hurry, +hurry.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +<a id="page-122" class="pagenum" title="122"></a> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Marsha’s in the Chapter Room,” Kitten said. +“Thought you were sick.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “I am.” She found the door to the room +locked, and she knocked three times fast and once slow. +</p> + +<p> +“Who goes?” she recognized Jane Bell’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Pledged in blood,” Leda said. “Promised in the +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enter.” +</p> + +<p> +The bolt was slipped off and Jane Bell stepped back. +She was wearing a silky white gown with a deep red +scarf on her hair, drawing her hair back behind her ears. +There was a sharp odor of burning incense in the dark +room, lighted only by five single candles on a small table +covered with the same silky white material. Marsha knelt +at the table, arranging a red velvet-covered book with a +black marker on the open page. When Leda walked in +the room, panting, her face damp and hot, Jane stared at +her. +</p> + +<p> +“My gosh,” she said, “you look feverish.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I came about. I can’t attend the meeting +tonight. I feel lousy.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha looked up from the book at Leda. There was +an angelic look to her face by candlelight, a look that +she was fully aware of, cultivated and practiced. When +she conducted the weekly chapter meetings, this look +lent an air of piety to the conduct of the service. With +the members of the chapter standing in a solemn semi-circle +before her, she felt that there was something +spiritual about her leadership, celestial and sacrosanct. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re having a formal meeting tonight,” she told +Leda, as if to persuade her sickness to end. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you are. I’m sorry. I just feel lousy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You look feverish,” Jane Bell remarked again. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you feel better.” Marsha smiled. “Did you +know that Mrs. Gates, our Kansas City vice-counsel, gave +us three new robes? Jane has one on.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-123" class="pagenum" title="123"></a> +Jane twirled and the robe floated on her gracefully. +Inwardly Leda thought, Jesus! Oh, silly Jesus! but she +pacified them by touching the material and exclaiming, +then apologizing again. She backed out of the room just +as the electric buzzer gave the signal for the members to +line up in the hall and prepare to enter in single file. +</p> + +<p> +The halls were still, the pledges confined to their +rooms for study hour. Leda found the room dark. Mitch +had not come yet. She struck a match and lit a cigarette, +and in the blackness she went to the window and watched +the street. Ten dragging minutes later the convertible +pulled up in front of the house, and Mitch slammed the +front door and hurried up the walk. Leda lay down on +the bed, watching the cigarette smoke curl to the ceiling, +and waited. +</p> + +<p> +After the light went on in the room, Mitch felt a flood +of surprise in her stomach as she saw Leda. She shut the +door and set Robin’s large empty suitcase on the floor. +Leda sat up and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to pack now?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I thought you’d be in chapter meeting.” She tried +not to look at Leda, but she could feel the girl’s eyes +piercing her, stopping her attempts to avoid those eyes, +and she went to the bureau and began removing socks +and handkerchiefs and scarves. +</p> + +<p> +Leda let her click the suitcase open, and watched her +while she placed the things inside it. She could feel the +sharp edges of the letter against her chest there near her +bra where she had put it before dinner. With her left +hand she reached down and fished the letter out and +stuck it under her pillow. +</p> + +<p> +“I decided,” Leda said finally, “that the least I could +do was to say good-by to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt choked up and agonized with desire. She +scooped out an armful of slips and panties and pajamas, +and thrust them in there with the other clothes. Her lips +<a id="page-124" class="pagenum" title="124"></a> +formed the word “Thanks,” and she meant to say it, but +there was no sound. On the floor of the closet there were +fluffy swirls of dust near her tennis shoes, and she brushed +them away with her hand. She tossed the shoes onto the +bed, and took the chair from the desk over to the closet +to reach the boxes at the top. +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “Want any help?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Thanks, though. I can do it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got an idea,” Leda said, “that you can do +everything yourself. I don’t know where you got that +idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes it’s up to yourself,” Mitch said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got a lot of ideas, I bet. I bet you’ve got thousands +of good ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +The box slipped from Mitch’s hand and fell to the +floor, spilling out two round hats, one black, one brown, +both alike—round and plain. +</p> + +<p> +“Someday you’ll find out that most of the ideas don’t +work. None of them work.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch stopped tying the strings on the top of the box +and looked up at Leda. “What are you trying to say?” +she asked. “What are you trying to tell me? You never +say anything right out. You always talk around and make +it hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m trying to say, don’t go. Going isn’t the answer.” +</p> + +<p> +The tears came in her eyes, and Mitch looked away at +the shoe bag on the closet floor. She thought of Robin, +her friend, of the swimming team, of other years and +anything to keep them from being the same, but this +made it worse and the sob started low in her throat. Then +Leda bent and caught her shoulder and held her, kneeling +on the rug, listening to the stifled crying. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch,” she said, “don’t go. Don’t leave me, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you know what I am. I told you what I am in the +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care. Mitch, I don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-125" class="pagenum" title="125"></a> +“I can’t stay with you. I won’t feel right, I—” +</p> + +<p> +Leda put her hand on the girl’s face and felt the tears. +She turned her face and put her lips on the salty moistness. +“Come on over to the bed,” she said. “Get up, +Mitch, and come on over to the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch lay down with her face buried in the pillow, and +Leda sat on the edge, her hands stroking Mitch’s hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you hear me, Mitch? Listen, it doesn’t help to +run away. You don’t think it helps, do you? It doesn’t +help.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch sobbed. “I can’t stay here. I can’t bear to +see you every day and know what I’m doing to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing to me? What in hell are <em>you</em> +doing to <em>me</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a Lesbian,” Mitch answered. “That’s how I feel +about you, too. I’m not like you—with Jake and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God, Mitch! All right, listen. I love you, you +crazy kid. I don’t have to label my love, do I? Do I have +to say that it’s Lesbian love? O.K., then that’s what it is. +It’s Lesbian love, pure and simple. Ye gods, I’ve known +about myself for years. I didn’t run away. I didn’t walk +out and run away. You gave me plenty of reason to. You +were the first one to come along and blow up my little +plan for hiding the way I am. You think <em>you’re</em> doing +something to me! Oh, Mitch! If anyone’s doing it, I’m +doing it. I’m doing it because I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch brought her head up from the pillow and turned +over on her side. “But you said it,” she said. “You said +you couldn’t love a Lesbian. You said—” +</p> + +<p> +“I said so damn much, didn’t I? You’ve got to understand, +Mitch. I don’t like what I am. If Jan ever knew, +I’d take a razor and slash my wrists. I couldn’t live with +people knowing, and pointing and saying, ‘Queer’ at +me. No one knows but you, and I guess I never would +have told you if you hadn’t started to leave. Do you think +<a id="page-126" class="pagenum" title="126"></a> +it’s easy to admit it? It was different when I could say it +wasn’t this way, that I was bisexual and all that rot. +Bisexual—that’s sort of like succotash, isn’t it? Only this +succotash hasn’t got any corn in it. It’s straight beans!” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Jake?” Mitch blew her nose and sat up. +“What about all the time you spend with Jake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I’m trying to prove something to myself. Part +of me is trying to say that I’m not what I am. That’s the +part of me that everyone knows—the alluring Leda, the +queen, Jan’s daughter, an apple never falls far from the +tree. Out with Jake every damn day to keep myself away +from what I really am. Want to know what sex with him +is like? It’s like dry bread, that’s what it’s like. Like dry +bread!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda got up from the bed and reached for her cigarettes +on the desk. She felt relieved, cleansed, as though +her mind had been emptied and she was free. She walked +over to the suitcase on Mitch’s bed and picked up the +clothing, taking it in her arms to the drawer. “You want +this all put back, don’t you?” she said to Mitch. “You +won’t leave me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch said. “I’m going. Robin arranged everything, +and—oh, Leda!” They stood in the center of the +room holding one another, their lips fastened hard, their +arms strong around each other. Leda’s hand reached for +the buttons on Mitch’s blouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Just stand still,” she said. “Just let me take everything +off and look at you. I want to look at you.” +</p> + +<p> +The skirt fell to the floor, and the blouse. Mitch +stepped out of her shoes and stood before Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to love you,” Leda said. +</p> + +<p> +Her hands stroked Mitch’s body gently. She leaned +over to kiss her lips and her forehead and the closed eyelids. +She said her name and held her, feeling the fast +beat in her pulse and knowing that she had almost lost +her. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-127" class="pagenum" title="127"></a> +The blood beat furiously in Mitch’s throat and she +could feel a mounting strength in her legs and arms. With +the arrogance of a master, Mitch’s nails dug into Leda’s +flesh as she began to pull the sweater and the thin blouse +from her shoulders. She let her teeth sink into Leda’s +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“No, faster!” Leda cried. “Faster, Mitch!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda’s gasp was one of pleasure and desire and it +moved Mitch to more violence, pinning Leda’s wrists +behind her back and jerking at her skirt. +</p> + +<p> +Neither of them heard the door open. +</p> + +<p> +They turned in time to see Kitten and Casey framed in +the doorway, eyes big, mouths dropped, and they fell +apart from one another when the door was slammed, +and the sound of feet running down the hall was as loud +and fast as the beating of their hearts in that room. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long time before they talked. Mitch lay dumb +with horror, never forgetting the look on their faces as +they had found her that way with Leda, unclothed and +wild like a fierce animal. Sitting with her head hung, her +hands pressing at her eyes, Leda was the first one to speak +after the minutes passed as they would in a slow nightmare +when nothing is real. +</p> + +<p> +She stood up and picked the blouse off the floor. +“Look,” she said. “I’ll go and talk to Marsha. That’s +where they ran to. I’ll go and straighten it out.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda reached in the closet for a fresh blouse, and +straightened her skirt so that the zipper was pulled and +on the side. She ran a comb through her long hair, and +her hands were trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll explain it somehow. Marsha’s gullible, and I’ll +explain it. I have to go now, or they’ll have a chance to +talk and spread the story.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “I’ll go too, Leda, I’ll go too. What’ll we +say?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-128" class="pagenum" title="128"></a> +“No!” Leda put her hands over her face and shook her +head. “I’m sorry I yelled. We’ve got to handle this just +right. You stay here. It’s better for me to go alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Look, get into bed. I’ll turn the light out and you +stay here. If anyone else comes by, pretend you’re asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +She waited while Mitch pulled her pajamas from the +suitcase on her bed and threw the suitcase down on the +floor, before she stepped into the pants and the coat. After +she got in bed, Leda snapped the light out and went back +by her own bed before she opened the door to go. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry,” she said. “Don’t worry at all. And stay +here!” +</p> + +<p> +In her hand, as she walked toward Marsha’s suite, +Leda clutched Mitch’s letter, wrinkled and folded on the +long sheet of notebook paper. Her eyes were set and determined, +and there was a tight line about her lips. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-9"> +<a id="page-129" class="pagenum" title="129"></a> +Chapter Nine +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +Under the heavy violet and black quilted robe, Mother +Nesselbush wore a voluminous peach-colored flannel +nightgown. Her hair was rolled on large black pins so +that it pulled at her scalp and gave her round face a +bizarre expression like that of a mild Jersey cow. Her +skin shone with “night cream,” and until everything +began, it was with conscious effort that she stifled the +great yawns that exposed her pressing lethargy, as well +as her gold-studded molars. +</p> + +<p> +Everything began when Marsha shut the door to Nessy’s +suite and pressed the lock down to secure it. Beside those +two, Casey, Kitten Clark, Jane Bell, and Leda shared the +secrecy of the meeting that was about to commence. Marsha +stood while the others sat in various positions around +the small anteroom. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t need to tell you that this gathering is an extreme +emergency. We must all pledge never to reveal what +we hear. Our whole reputation as a national sorority is at +stake, to say nothing of the reputation of Tri Epsilon on +the Cranston campus. I’ve asked Jane to come because +she’s a member of the Grand Council. Fortunately, our +other two members were on the scene when this thing +happened. And Leda will explain her part in it. Nessy, +we’ve inconvenienced you tremendously, but this is too +terribly serious.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nesselbush protested that she was not disturbed, +and that she was only too thankful that she was +called on. She straightened her drooping shoulders and +sat forward intently. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you better tell how it started, Casey,” Marsha +<a id="page-130" class="pagenum" title="130"></a> +said, leaning against the small mahogany table with the +vase of daisies set on it. +</p> + +<p> +Casey was excited. Her face was animated and colored +with the heat of her adventure. She uncrossed her legs and +leaned forward from the couch. +</p> + +<p> +“It was right after chapter meeting. Kitten and I were +going up to talk with Leda about her being nominated +for Christmas Queen, and about the campaign we were +going to plan. Well, we were kind of pleased and everything +and I guess we just never thought of knocking, and +when we got in there—well, this is kind of hard to say—we +found Mitch naked and she was attacking Leda. I +mean, she was kissing her and pulling at her clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Mother Nesselbush paled and caught her +jowls with her pudgy hands. “Oh, no!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda’s knees felt watery and loose, and her knuckles +were white in a tight fist. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Casey went on, “Kitten and I ran like the +devil—” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll say we did,” Kitten broke in. “I was never so +scared in my life. If you could have seen it! I didn’t know +what to think. I didn’t even think when I was running.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she do when you opened the door? Gosh, +Leda, you must have been crazy with fear.” Jane Bell +looked over at Leda after she said it, and shook her head +and wrinkled her forehead in disbelief. “Absolutely <em>crazy</em> +with fear!” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“You poor, poor darling,” Nessy said. “To think of it!” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha moved forward and held her hand up for silence. +“After that,” she said when everyone settled down, +“Leda came to me in the suite. Luckily, Kitten and Casey +had come right there, so the story hasn’t spread.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Susan Mitchell?” Mother Nesselbush +snapped. “Where is she now?” +</p> + +<p> +“You better carry on from here, Leda.” Marsha sat +down on the floor, close to Nessy’s chair, and waited while +<a id="page-131" class="pagenum" title="131"></a> +Leda found words. Of course, they believed the story. +It had been easy to tell it, Leda thought; not easy, but +the only way. It had been the only way to tell it. Strange +how she had thought that she would do it just this way if +they were found, in that quick flash of intuition a second +before they were found. She remembered another day +when she was a child alone in her room, and in the midst +of it she had heard Jan’s footsteps down the hall. If +they stopped, if Jan came in the room, then she would +say that she had shooting pains from cramps, and that she +had been tossing on the bed and was hot and out of +breath, and she would even cry to show that the pains +were bad ones. But she would not spoil that moment +there with herself for anything. All of the thoughts came +quickly to Leda, solved in seconds, so that there was +never any defeat. Now again she was not defeated, because +they believed her. There was Mitch upstairs, waiting, +trusting, but the time was now, downstairs, and Leda +began slowly, her words careful and well remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch is upstairs in bed. She’ll stay there, and she +won’t talk to anyone. I told her that I would explain it, +and I’m going to try to. I can’t explain it so that everything +is over and forgotten as I know she hopes I will do, +but I am going to try to be fair to her. +</p> + +<p> +“First of all, with everyone’s permission, I’d like to +read a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +When she finished the letter, Mother Nesselbush rolled +her eyes in utter horror. “I declare,” she said. “I do declare!” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” Leda said, “I suspected that Mitch had a +crush on me. She was jealous of Jake and of the time I +spent with him. I knew that, but I never dreamed the +kid was in love with me like this. You know how I am. I +call everyone honey and darling, and I guess the kid took +me to heart. Then, after I told her to get some boy friends, +she got mad and tried to ignore me. I didn’t pay any +<a id="page-132" class="pagenum" title="132"></a> +attention until I found this note in my mailbox before +dinner tonight. Well, you know how I acted at dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I thought it was just the flu,” Nessy said. “Land!” +</p> + +<p> +“So I decided that the only thing I could do was to +try to help the kid. At least persuade her to wait until +morning. I didn’t know what kind of condition she was +in. She might do something dumb like confiding in that +Robin Maurer. Then the whole campus would know. I +didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t wait till chapter meeting +and talk it over with you kids, because she’d be gone +by then. I tried to handle it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s Charlie?” Kitten said. “Is he that independent? +What does she mean, <em>he</em> knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“She imagined that, I’m sure,” Leda answered. “I guess +they had a fight or something and she thought he knew. +The kid is really naïve.” +</p> + +<p> +“She didn’t look naïve when Casey and I saw her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me finish, Kitten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lord, we don’t want it all over campus that one +of the Tri Ep pledges is queer. That’s all the independents +need.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, he doesn’t know. No one does!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let Leda finish,” Marsha said. +</p> + +<p> +“She brought a suitcase with her and was ready to go. +I persuaded her to wait until morning. I thought that by +that time I’d be able to do something—talk to Nessy or +Marsha or someone. She got undressed to go to bed, and—then +she—attacked me. Thank God you kids came along +at the right time.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she do after they left the room?” Jane Bell +asked. “I can’t even imagine this!” +</p> + +<p> +“That brought her to. You see, she really went out of +her mind for a minute. After the door slammed, she came +to and became herself. I quieted her as best I could, and +told her it would all be O.K. She was scared to death, poor +kid.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-133" class="pagenum" title="133"></a> +“Yeah, poor kid!” Casey sneered. “She belongs in a +cage!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Leda said. “I can’t help feeling sorry +for her.” +</p> + +<p> +Nessy said, “You showed great presence of mind, Leda. +Why, if it had been me, I would have just shrieked my +lungs out!” +</p> + +<p> +“You weren’t even yelling,” Casey said. +</p> + +<p> +“And it’s a good thing she didn’t. If it ever got around +the house—Lord, I hate to think.” Kitten reached for a +cigarette and snapped the flame on her lighter. “That’s +one thing we’ve got to be damn careful about. We’ve got +to keep it between us. We’ll have to think of some other +reason for getting rid of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I can do it,” Leda said. “Look, maybe I can +convince her that the best thing for her to do is to go to +the Psych Department. I’ll tell her I think she was right +to want to move to the dorm, and then we’ll be rid of +her and she’ll never know the difference. We can keep it +all hush-hush.” +</p> + +<p> +Jane Bell groaned and scratched her head. “No, that’s +no answer. She’d blab it to one of the doctors and then +it’d get back to Panhellenic. Besides, no telling what she +might do at the dorm.” +</p> + +<p> +Inwardly Leda shook at the danger of her own suggestion. +But no matter where Mitch went, there was the +danger of her telling her side of the story. Of someone +believing it. Who’d believe it? The letter was written +perfectly, leaving Leda free of any implication, and there +was no other proof. Nothing. She felt stronger then, fear +lending new armor. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” she said, “the kid will probably try to +blame me. She’ll probably say I had something to do +with it. You know how people get when they’re up +against a wall.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nesselbush giggled. “Leda, our queen,” she +<a id="page-134" class="pagenum" title="134"></a> +said. “Now really, do you think anyone would believe +the child? She’s obviously demented!” Her face changed +and became grave. “Girls, I don’t think the decision is +ours to make. We must think of the reputation of the +house. Tri Epsilon stands for honesty and loyalty, to ourselves +and to the school too. This is a matter for the dean’s +office, girls, and I assure you, Dean Paterson is a <em>very</em> +discreet person. She’ll handle this with utmost concern +for our welfare.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with Nessy,” Marsha said. “It isn’t anything +we can decide. We can only pledge ourselves to secrecy. +No other member of the sorority is to know about this. +Now, let’s promise it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Promised!” Kitten said. “That’s for sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d be embarrassed to tell anyone else,” Casey commented. +“Even now it embarrasses me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jane Bell stubbed her cigarette out in the ash tray. +“I don’t have to remind anyone,” she said, “that if the +pledges ever learn about this, we’ll be in danger of losing +the entire pledge class.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha stepped forward to the middle of the room. +“We all know the consequences. It could be anything +else but this. Homosexuality just leaves a horrid taste. +We’d all have to pay, even though we had nothing to do +with it, just because it happened under our roof. We’d +be the brunt of thousands of miserable jokes. You all +remember the year the Sigma Delts had those two terribly +effeminate boys in their pledge class? Remember +what happened the day they woke up and found the +signs all over their front yard? That’s just half of what +we’d get.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda remembered the signs. They were large cardboard +ones with bright red paint. They said, “Fairy +Landing,” and “Sig Delt Airport—Fly with our boys!” For +weeks, the jokes out at the Fat Lady and down at the +Den and the Blue Ribbon centered around the Sig Delt +<a id="page-135" class="pagenum" title="135"></a> +house. No one ever knew how it all started, or whether +there was any basis to it all, but everywhere you went you +heard the sly remarks, and saw the wry grins that attended +the cracks about “those fairy nice Sigma Delts.” She +had been a freshman then, but after two and a half years +it was all very fresh in her memory. Everyone remembered, +long after the boys left campus. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call the Dean,” Mother Nessy said, “the first +thing in the morning. The only thing we can do tonight +is go to bed and try to sleep. Leda, you’d better make up +the couch in here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid Mitch will be suspicious. I mean, I told her +I’d explain everything. She’ll probably wait for me to get +back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, joyous reunion,” Casey said. “Holy God!” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean you’re going back to that girl, Leda? Why, +I won’t <em>hear</em> of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” Marsha said calmly, “maybe it’s the only way. +We can’t have her getting out in the halls and trying to +find Leda. I mean, she won’t be violent like that again, +will she, Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I know she won’t. You don’t understand. The kid +is scared out of her wits now. She wouldn’t lift a finger.” +Leda felt queasy, listening to them picture Mitch as a +wild beast roaming the halls for prey. She would have to +make them believe that she was wise to go back up there +to Mitch. But not too anxious. “Of course, I confess it +isn’t going to help me sleep any to know she’s in the +room, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Nessy said. “I simply can’t have it. I’m responsible.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch would be waiting. Leda would have to go back, +or Mitch might run to Marsha and confuse the story, +ruin it—even if they didn’t believe her. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” Marsha said. “Kitten and Casey and I will +wait in the bathroom. Leda, you go in and see if it looks +<a id="page-136" class="pagenum" title="136"></a> +O.K. to stay there. If it does, you can tell us by coming +down to the john. If it’s not O.K., then you can tell us +and we’ll think of something else. I mean, if you think +Mitch is going to act up.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s fine,” Leda said, “and I think it’ll be O.K. +You don’t know this kid like I do.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten grinned. “Obviously,” she said. “Who’d want +to?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” Nessy consented reluctantly, “but I won’t +sleep a wink. Not a wink!” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha moved the tab back on the door and opened it. +“Now, for heaven’s sake,” she whispered, “look nonchalant. +Pretend we were all in talking to Nessy, and that’s +all. Some of the kids might still be up. And Leda, when +you come down to the john, make it subtle if anyone’s +there. Then we can go to the suite and talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nessy took Leda’s arm before she left the room. +“You promise me,” she said, “you promise me that if that +girl gives <em>any</em> indication of acting up again, you’ll just +jump right out of that room and come down to me. I +don’t care <em>what</em> the hour is.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “Don’t worry, Nessy, and I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +The five girls climbed the main stairs slowly, Marsha +attempting vaguely to whistle a bit from “On, Wisconsin.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +It was taking Leda a long time. What could she say to +them? Mitch was numb with torment, and the sheets on +her bed were wrinkled and halfway off the mattress from +her perpetual turning and moving as she waited. The +ticking of the tin clock on the dresser sounded frantic and +Mitch made the ticks come in three beats in her mind—<em>Les-bi-an, +Les-bi-an, tick-tick-tick</em>. Leda was one too. The +thought foamed in Mitch’s brain and hurt her. She did +not know why she felt dirty when Leda told her that +she was a Lesbian. She thought she should have felt happy +<a id="page-137" class="pagenum" title="137"></a> +and glad that they were two. But she did not want to be +one. Abnormal. +</p> + +<p> +From far off she could hear the sweet voices of a fraternity +serenading a sorority house down the street. +</p> + +<p> +She turned the light on and looked at the face of the +clock. It was eleven-thirty. Leda had been gone too long. +She saw Leda’s half-full package of cigarettes on the desk, +and she took one from the pack and lit it. It tasted strong +and sour and she squashed it in the ash tray and turned +the light off again. +</p> + +<p> +Tomorrow, she decided, she would move out of Tri +Epsilon and into the dorm with Robin. If she and Leda +weren’t put out of the sorority, she would leave anyway. +But she could not leave Leda. “I love Leda,” she said +softly to the darkness, “even though we’re both that way. +I wish she wasn’t that way.” +</p> + +<p> +The dream came in a half fit of consciousness. Her +mother was very beautiful, with black hair that came +to her shoulders, and clear green eyes. Mitch loved her. +She wore pants and shirts and combed her hair back, +wet from her swim, and went to her mother with jewels +and furs that she had stolen for her to have. Her mother +smiled and accepted them. Mitch heard her say, “You’d +better not steal all the time. I couldn’t love a thief.” She +ran down a long alley to escape the police who were looking +for her. It was late when she got back to the Tri +Epsilon house and her mother was there with the police +holding her arm. Her mother was laughing. She said, +“You didn’t know I was a thief too,” and the policemen +led her away. Diamonds were spilling out of her mother’s +pocket as she went down the steps with them. +</p> + +<p> +She thought she had been asleep for hours, but it was +only twenty minutes to twelve. Leda must be in trouble. +The dream put a ragged edge on her anxiety. The bed +was a sight, rumpled and torn apart as though it had +been ravaged. Mitch straightened the sheets and fluffed +<a id="page-138" class="pagenum" title="138"></a> +the pillow. In the corner of the room by the bureau her +clothes lay where Leda had taken them off, kicked to the +side. Mitch picked them up and brushed them off. +</p> + +<p> +<em>Les-bi-an, Les-bi-an, tick-bi-an....</em> +</p> + +<p> +Mitch thought, I can get a job. Leda and I can run +away and I can work someplace. If they put us out of the +sorority I won’t go home. Leda won’t either, because of +Jan. Colorado is nice, or California. She had a vivid picture +of the open convertible speeding through purple +and rust landscapes and along white desert with the cactus +along the roadside. She added glorious black nights and +ten thousand brilliant stars, and a warm wind whipping +at their faces. It was no good. She hated the picture. Why? +A slow self-disgust chewed at her and called her coward, +but she was still afraid. She promised herself to be strong +when Leda came back, no matter. Whatever Leda said, +Mitch would not reveal her fear. Leda loved her and this +was the price. Be strong for two. The words on the storybook +she’d had as a child came dancing on the screen +of her mind: “Now We Are Two.” +</p> + +<p> +Part of it was the way Leda acted when she had said, +“No, faster! Faster, Mitch!” It seemed far away and morbid, +as though there was an insane spark to their love that +made them fierce and careless. Sitting on the side of her +bed, under the harsh light of the electric bulb overhead, +Mitch could not know herself in that scene. She reasoned +that she was not violent. Never violent. Yet there was +still the faint taste of blood on her tongue, and the way +she knew she had been strong there with Leda. +</p> + +<p> +Don’t blame Leda. You’re trying to blame Leda. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sound of steps in the hall. Mitch caught +her breath when they came to the door. It was Leda +returning. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing with the light on?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had to find out the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I told you not to leave it on. I told you to go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-139" class="pagenum" title="139"></a> +“I just turned it on. I was afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s over, so go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Over?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. It’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wh-what did you say? How did you explain it?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda’s face was composed and placid. She took her +soap from the tray on the rack behind the door. Her +washcloth hung over the bar above the shoe bag and she +put that with the soap. “I’m going to wash my face. I’ll +tell you when I get back. Look, it’s over. There’s nothing +to worry about.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch just sat there staring. +</p> + +<p> +“Get in bed. I’ll be back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come too,” Mitch said. “I didn’t wash yet. Wait +for me and I’ll come too.” She started toward the bureau. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” Leda’s tone came out sharper than she had +meant it. She could not look at Mitch’s face, which was +alive with a new hope. Her words went to the rug. “No, +it’s better if you stay in bed. I told them you didn’t feel +well. You see, that’s how I explained it. I said you were +sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” Mitch said. “I—” She sat back on the bed and +rubbed her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +Leda walked toward the door. “Look, just get in bed. +I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll tell you then.” +</p> + +<p> +“O.K., Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +Before Leda turned the doorknob, Mitch’s eyes met +hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +When she was gone, Mitch felt sick and dull all over. +She was ashamed of the way she had thought about Leda. +The thoughts seemed to tease her still, pricking her +knowledge that Leda had made everything all right, +that now there would be no reason to run and hide. +<a id="page-140" class="pagenum" title="140"></a> +Steadily she rebuilt the structure of their love, amplifying +it with Leda’s courage and with her own indebtedness +to Leda. She could feel the physical ache for her down +to the tips of her fingers, replacing the enfeebled numbness, +charging it with renewed vigor. Healing time had +conquered the doubt and fear, and her servility was +sworn in that moment. Mitch felt humble and brave in +the darkness of the room. +</p> + +<p> +A tongue of light cut through the black as Leda opened +the door and slipped back in. Mitch could hear her putting +things away and getting out of her clothes. The +thud of her shoes on the floor sounded unusually heavy +in the silence. Mitch threw the sheets and blankets back +and went over to her. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, no! We just got out of one mess.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Leda. I just feel so—” +</p> + +<p> +“Get back in bed. My God!” +</p> + +<p> +The covers felt itchy on her chin and she pulled the +sheet up higher. She could hear Leda getting in bed. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you’re upset,” she said. “I should have known +better than to come over to you, Leda. I’m sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch waited. Leda would tell her now—everything +that had happened. The minutes crept and the clock began +the game, ticking out the word. +</p> + +<p> +“Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said you’d tell me.” Mitch’s voice was thin and +meek. She didn’t mean to keep at Leda like that, but +she had to know. +</p> + +<p> +“O.K. I said you were sick. I said you went to bed sick +and you were feverish when you came after me.” +</p> + +<p> +“D-did you say that I came after <em>you</em>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, hell, I had to say something! When they came +in the door, that’s what they saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-141" class="pagenum" title="141"></a> +The wind blew papers off the desk and they ruffled +along the floor, the noise quick and airy. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave them,” Leda said. She settled back and the +noise stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, did they believe you? What about—My God, I +was naked!” +</p> + +<p> +“You were sick! I told them you were sick, Mitch!” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch wanted to stop the angry tone. She lay quiet and +another paper chased across the room and landed on +top of her on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitch, I’m sorry I’m so snappish. I just feel like hell. +It wasn’t easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what it must have been like, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was hell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does—does anyone know? Anyone else, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just Marsha and those two.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll be hard tomorrow. What’ll I tell them when they +ask what was wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda turned her pillow over on the side. Then she +got up and put a bottle of ink on top of the papers so +they wouldn’t blow any more. “It won’t be hard,” she +said. “They won’t even talk about it. Just go along as +though nothing happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda, I don’t know how to thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quit saying that! What in the name of God do you +think I am, your holy savior?” +</p> + +<p> +The night air was crisp and Mitch snuggled down in +the covers. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she +kept listening for Leda to say more. When she didn’t, +Mitch said, “I just want to say one more thing, Leda. I’ll +always stick by you—always. You mean more to me than +anyone I know.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda didn’t answer. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-10"> +<a id="page-142" class="pagenum" title="142"></a> +Chapter Ten +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +Ruth Paterson was a stocky, middle-aged woman +with brownish-red hair, which she wore in a short, +smoothly waved coiffure. Her thin lips were faintly tinted +with a medium rose shade, and her long full face had a +healthy pink color that set off the deep brown eyes. Between +the book ends on her smooth red-leather-topped +desk there was a dictionary, a worn copy of “Wine from +These Grapes,” “The Collected Poems of Robert Frost,” +“Roget’s Thesaurus,” two volumes on methods for counseling +teen-age girls, a Bible, and a frayed copy of Proust. +</p> + +<p> +Her office was a small white room furnished with comfortable +red furniture and red-framed prints of Daumier. +On a wobbly end table at the side of a long couch in +front of her desk there were a miniature wooden pagoda +and a vase with a single red rose pointing toward the +white ceiling. On the lower rung of the table there were +three copies of current magazine issues, and one copy of +the Cranston University humor magazine. +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson took a great deal of pride in her office. +She had done most of it herself, lacking encouragement +from the university officials, who saw little valid reason +for decorating the room so that it bore small resemblance +to a typical office of the Dean of Women. The wall-to-wall +black rug she had purchased herself at a private +auction of one of the distinguished townspeople’s household +effects. It was impractical, inevitably catching lint +and dust from the heels of the steady infiltration of +students, file clerks, secretaries, and university officials. +She liked the rug anyway. +</p> + +<p> +It was just before eleven in the morning, a beautiful +<a id="page-143" class="pagenum" title="143"></a> +morning with a quick snap in the air, and a clear fall +sky. At eleven-fifteen, Susan Mitchell would arrive for +her appointment. Dean Paterson held the three square +yellow cards in her hand, thumbing through them, the +bland printed information registering slowly in her mind. +There was scant knowledge of the girl on the office records. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Nesselbush had called her “a savage.” +</p> + +<p> +The case was not unique. In her twenty-three years of +counseling girls, Dean Paterson had become fairly well +acquainted with the problem of homosexuality, suspected +or overt. She had dealt with it before. +</p> + +<p> +She laid the first set of yellow cards down and picked +up the second set, removing the paper clip. Leda Taylor’s +name was familiar. There were several rows of reported +late minutes. The explanations appeared in the spaces +after the account of the offense. +</p> + +<div class="table"> +<table class="table143"> +<tbody> + <tr> + <td class="col1">24</td> + <td class="col2">March—30 minutes late—Flat tire</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">12</td> + <td class="col2">April—2 hours late—Delayed because of storm</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">19</td> + <td class="col2">April—Absent all night—Forgot to sign out for week end</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="col1">2</td> + <td class="col2">May—15 minutes late—Watch stopped</td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +Her scholastic report was not always good. There were +alarming high and low points, and a strange proclivity +toward extremes. A’s and D’s. B’s and E’s. Psychology was +a good subject. English was second, with science and +math at a nadir. Dean Paterson remembered her as a +very attractive girl, with a slight rough edge to her nature +and a suggestion of specious warmth. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Nesselbush had explained that she was a darling. +</p> + +<p> +The buzzer burred out in the stillness. Susan Mitchell. +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson stood up and watched the door until the +girl came in. She had not expected her to look like that +at all. She said, “Won’t you sit down, Susan?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-144" class="pagenum" title="144"></a> +From the top of her desk drawer, near the newly +sharpened pencils and the memo pads, the Dean removed +the envelope that Mrs. Nesselbush had sent her. +Inside was the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know why you’re here, do you, Susan?” +</p> + +<p> +The girl smiled. “No, ma’am,” she answered. “Mother +Nessy said something about your wanting to talk about +my subjects.” +</p> + +<p> +It was irritating. There was no need to lie to the girl. +There was no necessity to explain falsely why the appointment +was made. The Dean shook her head and +picked up her yellow pencil. She made dots on the back +of the white envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said. “It’s not about your subjects. It’s about +something you may be able to tell me more about than +I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“How close have you been to Leda Taylor?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt a shrinking inside of her. “I—I room with +her,” she said. “We’re good friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +So they hadn’t believed Leda after all. Mitch looked at +the Dean’s face, and then down at her hands and the +pencil. She could not say anything. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” Dean Paterson said, “it’s been left up to me. +I guess you had no indication that anything was wrong +at the Tri Epsilon house today.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” Mitch’s voice was barely audible. She looked at +her hands. If only Leda had been summoned at the same +time, Mitch thought, she could do the talking. Mitch +wondered then if Leda had already been to see the Dean, +earlier in the morning. She had not seen her since breakfast, +and they had not sat at the same table. Leda thought +it would be too obvious if they sat together after last +night. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Susan, that kind of thing can’t be tolerated. +<a id="page-145" class="pagenum" title="145"></a> +In the long run, if it was tolerated, you’d be hurt terribly. +There would be cruel jokes, and an even crueler alienation +from the other girls. Do you want to talk about it? +I have only Mrs. Nesselbush’s report.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I don’t know how to talk about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson went over to the couch where Mitch +was sitting. She sat beside her. “Start with Leda,” she +said. “Try to tell me about Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch spoke suddenly. “It’s not her fault,” she said. +“It’s really not her fault at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Tears clouded Mitch’s eyes and she tried to prevent +them from rushing forward. Dean Paterson put her arm +around the girl’s shoulder. “Susan,” she said, “listen to +me. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. +It’s going to make my job a little harder, though. You see, +I’ll have to submit a report on this, and I don’t have very +much to go on. Just the letter and what I’ve heard.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch looked at her. “What letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“The one you wrote Leda. I’m sorry, dear. You can +have it back. I don’t think it’s very nice to read other +people’s mail either, but there are so many things the +Dean of Women has to do that aren’t very nice.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch said, “Then Mother Nessy stole the letter. She +must have. Leda forgot to tear it up and—” +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson told Mitch then that Leda had given +the letter to Nessy. Mitch pulled away and jumped up. +“That’s not true,” she said. “That’s not true!” The tears +streamed down her cheeks, and she sank back on the +couch. “You don’t know Leda. She wouldn’t do that. +She’s tried to protect me all the way—even lied for me +last night to Marsha. She told Marsha I was sick and—” +</p> + +<p> +The shrill ring of the phone cut into Mitch’s words. +While Dean Paterson crossed the room and stood talking, +Mitch cried violently, stopping the sound with her handkerchief, +pushing the sobs back in her throat. Again she +thought of running away, with Leda, somewhere—anywhere. +<a id="page-146" class="pagenum" title="146"></a> +They would be expelled and there was no other +thing to do but run. And run. She wished that the Dean +would just tell her that she would have to leave Cranston, +instead of asking questions and trying to find out more +information. Then Mitch could hurry and get to Leda +first, before the Dean did. It would be awful for Leda. +She was so sure last night. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Dean Paterson said, +walking back toward Mitch. “I have an idea, if you’d like. +It’s almost lunchtime. I usually make a sandwich at my +apartment, a few blocks from here. Would you like to +go there with me now?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch shook her head. “I have to see Leda,” she said. +“I have to talk to her. Please—she won’t be able to stand +this. If we’re expelled—” +</p> + +<p> +The Dean took Mitch’s arm. “Susan, <em>Leda</em> is not going +to be expelled. I think we’d better talk about it at lunch, +dear. All right?” +</p> + +<p> +As if in a trance, unable to comprehend any meaning, +Mitch waited while Dean Paterson straightened some +papers on the desk, removed her purse from the lower +drawer, and pressed the light button off. Together they +walked through the reception room, out into the cold +marble corridor of Kenyon Hall. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +After Dean Paterson canceled her afternoon appointments, +she sat down in the small, green-walled front room +of her apartment. Susan Mitchell was in the bedroom +asleep. The story seemed unbelievable. +</p> + +<p> +But not impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Ruth Paterson picked up the small white china poodle +from the round glass-top coffee table. She passed her +thumb along the ridges and up to the object’s black eyes, +and she thought about Susan Mitchell. Certainly not a +savage. +</p> + +<p> +It was a strange story, the story of Susan and Leda, but +<a id="page-147" class="pagenum" title="147"></a> +she had learned long ago not to be surprised at anything. +She checked back her own willingness to believe what +Susan Mitchell had told her. The child was afraid and +lost, and sympathy came easily. This girl invited it and +coaxed it, with her lonesome eyes and her ingenuous +statements. Ruth Paterson had an impulse to go into +the bedroom and wake the girl up and tell her that she +could not stay. Even though she had asked her to stay. +She was afraid of the girl in many ways, afraid that the +fumbling immaturity of Susan Mitchell had made her go +soft and irrational. There had been other occasions +when she had weakened like this and regretted it later. +The Dobbs girl, for instance. Petite, blue-eyed Faith +Dobbs, a freshman years ago. She had been accused of +stealing in the dorm, and something about her made the +Dean believe that she was innocent when she sat before +her and told her story. The hours and days of counsel, +the defense she had made of the girl before the Board of +Trustees, and the angry speech she had delivered to the +girls who lived in Faith’s dorm—all objects of ridicule +when Faith Dobbs pilfered the Dean’s watch and petty-cash +box from her office weeks later. No, she was by no +means infallible. And now there was another child who +wanted to be trusted, was already trusted by the mere +fact that she was asleep now in Dean Paterson’s apartment. +</p> + +<p> +She got up and placed the china poodle back on the +glass top. The phone was in the corner, just above the +window seat. For a moment she sat looking out into the +street. A boy and girl passed, he carrying her books, she +laughing up at him, reaching with her hand to brush +back the blond curl that fell on his forehead. They kicked +the leaves along the sidewalk as they walked down the +block. Ruth Paterson said aloud, “If everything could +be as simple as that,” and laughed when she thought of +the obvious fact that even <em>that</em> was not simple. There’s +<a id="page-148" class="pagenum" title="148"></a> +no simplicity left in modern living, she decided. Everyone +is on the spit at one time or another. Thumbing through +the phone book, she found the number and dialed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Marsha Holmes, please,” she said, and while she waited, +she twisted the rubber cord attached to the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Marsha? This is Dean Paterson.... Fine, +thank you. Marsha, is Leda Taylor in the house?... I +see. I wonder,” Dean Paterson said, “if you could find +her for me. If she’s in class, wait until it’s over and ask +her to come and see me. At the apartment. I’ll be here all +of this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The Den was not crowded at two-thirty that afternoon. +It was a popular hour for classes at C.U., and only a few +students lined the bar, their books strewn about on the +pine top, their beers before them. The juke box blared +out a frantic trumpet, and from a corner near the door +the ringing of the pin-ball machines could be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Leda and Jake were the only ones occupying any of +the knotty-pine booths. They sat in the last one, side by +side, a pitcher of beer before them. Jake had a flask in +the pocket of his coat, and they were drinking “boiler-makers,” +half whisky, half beer. They had been there +since eleven-thirty, and their only food had been a hardboiled +egg apiece and a bowl of pretzels. Jake’s head was +hanging to one side languorously. He was only half listening +to Leda, who had been talking for three hours. +</p> + +<p> +“You can jus’ imagine,” she said, “if anyone can jus’ +imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +Jake reached out for the pitcher of beer. He poured +half of it on the table. The rest went in the glass and he +fumbled in his pocket for the flask. He sang loudly, “Oh, +a girl without a woman is like a—” +</p> + +<p> +A few boys at the bar looked back and laughed. Others +kept on talking. The bartender shook his head. “Flunked +an exam, probably,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-149" class="pagenum" title="149"></a> +“Man,” the short thin boy exclaimed, “he’s carrying +a big load!” +</p> + +<p> +The fellow next to him swallowed his beer. “She’s +helping him with that load.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda tried to pour beer into her glass but she couldn’t +grasp the handle. She nudged Jake and pointed to it. He +poured more on the table, leaving a few inches in the +bottom of her glass. His hand shook when he added the +whisky, and some of the yellow-brown liquid fell on +Leda’s coat. She brushed it away and giggled. Then her +face became serious and she tasted the beer, which did +not taste at all. +</p> + +<p> +She said, “Here’s to Mitchell, Mitchell.” +</p> + +<p> +Jake reached for his glass. “To Mitchell Mitchell,” he +said. “Long may she wave!” +</p> + +<p> +The bartender leaned over to a solitary waiter standing +near the end of the bar. He pointed at Leda and Jake, +and the waiter came across the room to them. “All right, +kids,” he said. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” +</p> + +<p> +Jake said, “Who asked you?” +</p> + +<p> +“C’mon, quiet down, kids. This is your last drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him,” Leda said, her words slurring and halting. +“Tell him wha’ hoppen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naw, he don’t know from nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” the waiter said, “take it easy. I’m warning you +kids for the last time.” +</p> + +<p> +“For the last time,” Leda repeated, smiling, her head +dropping to Jake’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +A confused thought came to her mind as she leaned +against Jake. She wanted to cry. She really wanted to cry, +but she couldn’t. She wanted to cry for what she had +done to Mitch, but when she realized she had done it to +herself too, she couldn’t get a tear to come. She could feel +tears in her throat. She said aloud, “What good are they +in my throat?” +</p> + +<p> +Jake said, “I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-150" class="pagenum" title="150"></a> +She wondered where Mitch was and what she was +thinking. She decided that Mitch was crying. Maybe she +was packing. Maybe she was in the room at the Tri Epsilon +house packing. She shut her eyes and there were +bright colored circles and her head spun. She said, “Once +yer on a roller coaster yew can’t git off.” +</p> + +<p> +Jake got up quickly. “Hurry,” he yelled at her. “Can +you make it?” +</p> + +<p> +She only had a little way to go. The door pushed open +readily, and she held onto the white sink. The tears came +to her eyes automatically, and her whole body shook in +jerks and seemed to roll. When it was over she got up +from her knees and stared into the mirror. Her eyes +focused at last, and when she saw her face, she could not +believe it. She looked white and her hair hung like a +witch’s. She took a lipstick from her coat pocket and +rubbed the old stain off with a piece of rough toilet paper. +When she applied the red color, it still looked sickly +and smeared. The powder only made her face look +whiter. She pinched her cheeks for color. The comb +caught in the knots of her hair, and she swore. Finally +she gave up. She turned to go back, but she could not. +Again she fell to her knees. Over and over she cried, +“Mitch,” and she got sicker and sicker. The tears rolled +off her nose, and she could taste an evil-smelling taste in +her mouth. She stood up after a while and held onto the +wall. Everything was clearer. She felt better. Gradually +the wall stopped moving and she could see things standing +still again. She pushed the door open and walked +regally down to the booth where Jake was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Marsha sat across from him, and beside Marsha, was +Kitten Clark. +</p> + +<p> +“Where have <em>you</em> been?” They sounded too loud. +“We’ve been looking high and low.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right here,” Jake said. +</p> + +<p> +Leda could feel things coming back. She could control +<a id="page-151" class="pagenum" title="151"></a> +herself. “I’ve been here for hours,” she said. “What do +you want with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t want you. Dean Paterson wants you. She +called up the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God!” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten Clark got up from the booth. “C’mon, Leda,” +she said. “We’ve got to get you sobered up. We’ll take +you back to the house and put you under the shower. +You’re in no condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeah,” Leda answered, “I’m not. Jake borrowed +Clive’s car. It’s out front. We gotta get it back to Sig +Delt.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha said, “I’ll drive.” +</p> + +<p> +Jake stood up then too. “The hell,” he said. “The hell +you’ll drive. I’ll drive. I’m no one’s goddamn kindergarten +kid. I’ll drive.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Jake.” Leda held onto him and said, “No, don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then <em>you</em> drive, goddamn it. I don’t want these jackasses +in my car that I personally borrowed.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda turned to them. Her head was clearing. She could +still taste the taste and feel the strangeness in her knees, +but she was all right. She had to be all right. Dean Paterson +wanted to see her. Leda said, “Look, I better drive +the car. We’ll drop him off. It’ll help me sober up, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not sober enough now to drive,” Marsha said. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I am! Don’t argue, now. I’ve got to step on +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s O.K.,” Kitten said. “She could sail a schooner +with a few drinks in her. I know her.” +</p> + +<p> +They filed out of the Den and walked up the street +toward Clive’s car. Jake was singing and stumbling as he +walked along, and the fresh air made Leda feel sleepy. +She blinked her eyes and made herself keep on going. +</p> + +<p> +The car was parked at the end of the street. Jake +crawled in the back and stretched out on the seat, while +<a id="page-152" class="pagenum" title="152"></a> +Leda and Marsha and Kitten crowded in the front. When +the motor started, Jake yelled out, “Home, James! +Home!” +</p> + +<p> +The Dean would want Leda to tell her all about Mitch. +She had talked to Mitch, and Mitch had no doubt told +her everything. But the Dean wouldn’t believe it. Even +the late minutes on her record alone would keep the +Dean from believing. She was always out with boys—late. +Last year she had been a queen. +</p> + +<p> +The Dean would make her go all through it again. +Could she remember everything she had said exactly? +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” Kitten said, “chew on these mints. They’ll +clear your breath. I’m not sure you’ll have time for a +shower. It’s quarter after three.” +</p> + +<p> +Leda reached over for the mint. Her eyelids felt heavy +and drooping. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s got to have a shower,” Marsha said. “Even her +clothes smell of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“She can change those.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Marsha said, “a shower’s best. After all, the +house has got a bad enough name in the Dean’s office +now. She’ll think we’re completely irresponsible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Irrrrrr-reeeee-spon-sib-bull!” Jake yelled out from the +back seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’d you tell her I was?” Leda said. +</p> + +<p> +“In class. We said we thought you had a class.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t. She can go to her files and find that out.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha said, “She’s at her apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“God! I’ve never been there.” +</p> + +<p> +She put her foot down harder on the gas. She would +have to hurry and get it over with. What did Mitch say +when she found out? What did she think? Mitch’s face +seemed to come on the window and she couldn’t see the +road. She was looking at Mitch’s face and the trusting +eyes. Remembering the words. “I’ll always stick by you—always. +You mean more to me than anyone I know.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-153" class="pagenum" title="153"></a> +“Hey,” Marsha said. “Slow down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Slow down, baby, don’t you blowwww yer top-p,” +Jake sang out. +</p> + +<p> +She didn’t feel as though she were driving the car. She +felt as though she were sitting back and someone else was +driving. Looking down at her foot, she saw that it was +on the pedal, but she could not feel her own strength +pushing it. +</p> + +<p> +“Leda!” Kitten screamed. “Take it easy! Leda!” +</p> + +<p> +The car crashed in a thundering noise. Jake was +thrown to the floor and Marsha and Kitten could feel +their heads jerk forward and thump on the pane. When +they straightened up, they lay back with their heads leaning +against the leather seats. Jake moaned out from the +back, and then he scrambled up and held his head too +and shook it. <a id="corr-12"></a>Then they all saw Leda. The glass in the +pane where her head had struck was splintered, and down +the side of her face there was the scarlet color of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Outside of the car, there was another car smashed and +still where it had been parked. Jake got out first. He +pushed the seat back and stood in the road while the people +on the street hurried toward them. Kitten and Marsha +held Leda and tried to move her back. They were +able to pull her head from the windshield and ease her +back in a sitting position against the seat. +</p> + +<p> +“God!” Kitten said. “She’s bleeding like mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“I better call an ambulance.” Marsha got out of the +car. +</p> + +<p> +A gray-haired man ran up to her. “Anything I can do, +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha said, “Please—call an ambulance.” +</p> + +<p> +She went around to the other side and talked through +the window to Kitten. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she coming to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet. I’m trying to wipe the blood away. Ask Jake +if he’s got a handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-154" class="pagenum" title="154"></a> +Jake was holding onto the car, his head down, his arms +wobbly. He handed Marsha the handkerchief without +speaking. People crowded toward them and a policeman +hurried up from the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey!” Kitten yelled. “She’s coming to. She’s talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s she saying? Is she hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” Kitten said. “Marsha, listen!” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha leaned in the window. Leda’s lips were parted, +and the blood had run down by her nose. Her eyes were +closed. She kept mumbling. They were able to make the +mumbling out gradually as it became clearer. “Mitch,” +she was saying. “Mitch, honey. Oh, God, Mitch, honey, +what did I do to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“She feels bad about Susan Mitchell,” Kitten said. +They listened to Leda as she said more. “I want you, +Mitch. Kiss me! It’s going to be all right again. God, +Mitch, love me.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha and Kitten looked at each other with horror-stricken +faces. +</p> + +<p> +Kitten said, “Did you hear what I heard?” and the +mumbling kept on. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-11"> +<a id="page-155" class="pagenum" title="155"></a> +Chapter Eleven +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +The strong hospital smell made Marsha cough and +cross the waiting room on the second floor of the large +building to open the window and breathe the fresh air. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey,” Kitten said, “it’s cold. I’d rather have the +smell.” She said it more for something to say than as an +actual expression of her feelings that morning. On other +Friday mornings at half past ten, she would be sitting in +world-lit class, in the second row of the auditorium, +vaguely hearing Professor Weber’s sonorous words blare +out on the loudspeaker while she made flimsy notes and +stared at the boy’s head in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +Leda had been in the University Hospital for three +days. During that time, Dr. Ted Peters was her only visitor. +Now Kitten and Marsha were waiting for him before +they went in to see Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish he’d come,” Marsha said. “If I miss my eleven-thirty, +I’ll have to take a separate econ quiz.” She sat +down in the black leather rocker and picked through the +pages of “Look.” It was an old issue, and she had read it +thoroughly weeks ago. Kitten took her compact from her +purse and looked at her lipstick. She powdered her nose +and stuck the compact back, clamping the purse shut. A +nurse in a crisp white uniform padded by on her rubber-heeled +shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“It didn’t take Mitch long to move,” Kitten said. +</p> + +<p> +Marsha sighed. “She had the car.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Peters shut the door to the waiting room after he +came in. He was a tall, thin man with a boyish face and +kindly gray eyes behind the black, heavy-rimmed glasses +that matched the color of his thick hair. He had on a +<a id="page-156" class="pagenum" title="156"></a> +white coat above the dark blue pants, and in his hand +he held a tan bone pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Which is which?” he said, sitting down on the leather +couch beside Kitten. After Marsha made the introductions, +he put a match to the tobacco in his pipe and +leaned back comfortably. His face was drawn with a +serious, wary expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Dean Paterson tells me you two are the only Tri Eps +who know the whole story on this.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” Marsha said, putting the copy of +“Look” back on the table and folding her hands on her +lap. “We’d like to keep it that way, if it’s possible. I +guess you understand how girls can talk, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand. About the Mitchell girl.... Does the +house know why she was asked to leave?” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha said, “No. We said she was incompatible. +That’s all. Jane Bell and Casey and Mother Nessy know. +They know about Leda too now, but it’s terribly embarrassing. +Leda was our queen. If it ever got out, we’d +be ruined. I don’t think Mitch will tell. It’d ruin us.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Parker blew a puff of smoke up into the air. He +took his glasses off and held them loosely in his hand. +“And this—Jake? How does he fit into all of this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Him!” Kitten said. “We don’t have to worry about +him. He was so blotto he doesn’t even remember being +at the Den, much less anything else. I don’t know whether +Leda told him or not, but he sure doesn’t remember +anything. I had a class with him yesterday. All he’s worried +about is paying for the car that got wrecked. And +Leda too, he <em>says</em>, but if you ask me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Which no one did,” Marsha broke in, putting a period +to Kitten’s opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Ted Peters watched the girls as they talked. He wondered +if his generation had been that way, or if it was +true that the younger generation had changed, evolved +into a careless breed of people who lacked even a remote +<a id="page-157" class="pagenum" title="157"></a> +basis for understanding. He shut his eyes and shuddered +inwardly. “Right now,” he said, “we’ve got to worry +about Leda Taylor. She’s very ill—in her mind as well as +in her body.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord!” Kitten exclaimed. “You’d never think she was +one. All those dates and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, girls,” Dr. Peters said, “right now I want you +to turn into actresses. The best actresses you can be. Leda +is conscious now. For the past few days she’s been semi-conscious +and she’s got a lot off her mind, talking and +crying, saying things she’s probably had pent up in her +since she was knee-high. But now, as you go in that room, +let her be the old Leda Taylor—act as if she’s the Leda +you knew before the accident and your talk with Dean +Paterson. When you go in see her, forget all of these +recent developments, and talk to her as you would if this +had never happened. She has no way of remembering +what she said at the wreck, and no way of knowing what’s +happened since then. She’ll be attempting to live the lie, +and you’ve got to help her live it. Some of her talk may +be incoherent. Pass over it. Don’t indicate in any way +that there’s anything different about her. And most important—prepare +yourself for a difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shouldn’t mention Susan Mitchell, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless she mentions her. She may ask you if +Susan was sent home, or what <a id="corr-13"></a>became of her. In that case, +you say that she hasn’t been sent home <em>yet</em>. Say you don’t +know any more about it—that Dean Paterson is handling +it. You see, the best thing that could happen to Leda +would be for her to see Susan. She feels guilty, and she +still has emotional ties that are stronger than we can +imagine, but she’ll have to ask to see the girl herself. +Otherwise it won’t be effective.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Jake?” Kitten said. “Should we mention +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly! Act the way you would act if you didn’t +<a id="page-158" class="pagenum" title="158"></a> +know anything about all of this. Tell her everyone is +asking for her at the house. Try to give her some will to +get better.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha stood up and came over to Dr. Peters. “We’ll +do the best we can,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The three of them left the small reception room and +walked down the dark corridor where the smells of ether +and medicine and disinfectant were more pronounced. +There was a screen in the entrance to Room 209, and +Kitten and Marsha stopped there and shook hands with +Dr. Peters. He smiled briefly and whispered, “Don’t forget.” +</p> + +<p> +Inside the room the shades were drawn and there was a +small light over the bed. The fat, neat-looking nurse left +them alone with Leda, who lay still, her head swathed in +white gauze bandages. Marsha went ahead of Kitten to +the edge of the bed and peered down at Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi,” she whispered. “How do you feel?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda’s face had a yellow cast to it and her lips barely +broke in an uneven, crooked grin. “How do I look?” she +answered. +</p> + +<p> +Kitten moved up alongside Marsha. She said, “I bet +that’s the first cotton crown you ever wore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you tell me how I look?” Leda said. +</p> + +<p> +Kitten sat down on the straight-back chair near the bed +table. “You had a rough time of it,” she said. “I think +you look darn well, considering.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha tried to smile enthusiastically. “Everybody’s +been asking about you at the house,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“So everybody’s been asking.” Leda half laughed. +“Well!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jake’s asked, too,” Kitten said. “You know, we have +math together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Car wrecked?” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten stammered, unsure of what to say. Marsha said, +“It <em>is</em> in bad shape.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-159" class="pagenum" title="159"></a> +“Anyone called Jan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Kitten answered. “I don’t think anyone +at the house did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. It’d ruin her trip. She’s going to L.A., you +know? Did you know Jan was going to L.A.? Yeah, she +likes it out there. She’s a big hit in L.A.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a short pause. Kitten fumbled with her +purse and found the handkerchief. She touched it to her +nose, a gesture to take time and allow her to think of +something to say. Marsha leaned on the bed and +smoothed her skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“What about Mitch?” Leda said suddenly. “She go +home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” Marsha said. “I guess not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten remembered to add, “The Dean’s handling it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Dean! What’d she want with <em>me</em>, anyway? I don’t +care, either.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha pretended to scratch her arm up under the +sleeve of her sweater. “We’ll have to talk about your +nomination for Christmas Queen when you get better, +Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what’s the Dean want with Mitch? Poor dumb +kid.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another short silence. +</p> + +<p> +Leda said, “I’d like to see her. Surprise you? I’d like to +see Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you can,” Marsha said. +</p> + +<p> +“Surprises you that I’d like to see her, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten said, “No. I can see why.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” Leda said. +</p> + +<p> +Kitten’s face became tense. “Well, you—roomed together +and—” +</p> + +<p> +Leda laughed very hard. Then she was serious again, +her green eyes strangely alert. She brought her hand up +and touched her fingers to her mouth, and even in the +light and with the gauze and the weakness of her body, +<a id="page-160" class="pagenum" title="160"></a> +she was beautiful. It was in the supple line of her lips, +and the way her glance seemed plaintive and lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said. “Yes, we roomed together. Roommates! +Too bad. If she was still around I thought I could +talk to her. Tell her it was too bad.” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten tried to blow her nose as though it needed it. +“I’ve got a damn cold,” she said, “or my sinus or something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where Mitch is?” Leda asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Marsha said. “Maybe the doctor would know.” +</p> + +<p> +“God!” Leda turned over on her side. “He doesn’t +know her from a hole in the wall. Why talk about such +dreary subjects, anyway? Might as well forget about it. +What’s going on at the house this week end?” +</p> + +<p> +Kitten started elaborating on who had a date with +whom, and what fraternities were giving parties. “You +know,” she said, “we’ve got to get together on plans for +the Christmas Queen campaign.” After she said it, she +wondered whom they would elect to take Leda’s place. +Secretly, she had thought of herself as a logical candidate. +</p> + +<p> +The fat woman in white returned and signaled to +them. “Time’s up,” she said. “You can come again tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha and Kitten felt mutual relief as they stood up +and bade Leda good-by. “Come back,” Leda said. “Come +back and see me again. God, I go crazy in this bed!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll be back,” Marsha promised. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Peters was waiting outside the screen for them. He +led them down the hall and listened with interest as they +announced that Leda had asked for Susan Mitchell. +</p> + +<p> +“She was funny, though,” Kitten said. “Not funny, but +strange.” +</p> + +<p> +“Almost like she wasn’t all there at times,” Marsha +sighed, “the way she looked away from me when she +talked, and how she rambled.” +</p> + +<p> +He watched them after they left from the front door +<a id="page-161" class="pagenum" title="161"></a> +and hurried down the walk, talking together excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +It was late that afternoon when he parked his worn +Chevrolet coupé in front of Dean Paterson’s apartment. +She met him at the door and led him into the living +room. +</p> + +<p> +“You look tired, Ted,” she said as he sat down and +stretched his long feet before him. “It’s pretty depressing, +isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +He knocked the bone pipe on the ash tray and took the +small tan pouch from his coat pocket. “Did you talk to +the girls? They were over this morning to see Leda, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +Ruth Paterson sat on the hassock beside the couch. +“Yes, they stayed in my office for several hours. I wanted +to be sure that they understood the situation thoroughly—that +Susan Mitchell would be a perfectly normal girl if +it hadn’t been for Leda, and that now, with understanding +and help from you, she will be normal again.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how did they react to her staying in school?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s curious, Ted. You see, their main worry is that +Susan will tell the story to someone, thereby ruining the +Tri Ep reputation. Susan’s welfare seems a smaller concern. +Oh, of course, they said they wanted to see her get +a decent break, and that they were upset about the whole +affair—but primarily, they worry about how this would +affect their sorority.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Peters put a match to the tobacco in the pipe and +sucked on the stem thoughtfully. He shook his head. +“You’re sort of sticking your neck out, Ruth. I can’t tell +you how genuinely proud I am of you. It’s been my feeling +all along that there’s no question about the Mitchell +girl’s normality—that it could have happened to almost +any lonely, helpless, and naïve child. But you shouldered +the responsibility when you decided to let her stay in +school. That takes courage, Ruth—real courage.” +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson wondered if it did, or if it were more +<a id="page-162" class="pagenum" title="162"></a> +of an act of responsibility than an act of courage. There +was no doubt in her mind that the Mitchell girl would +be normal again. Doubts like that were too costly for a +dean of women. But to defend your own beliefs in the +face of other people’s doubts did take courage. She was +thankful for the kind of man Ted Peters was. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, Ted,” she began, “I’ve always thought my +position was more than that of a counselor to girls en +masse. I’ve wanted it to mean more than that—to mean +each girl individually, not only in her academic work and +in her extracurricular activities, but in the girl’s life as +long as we’re associated with one another. I think that’s +part of a college’s duty. Otherwise, it seems like an assembly +line that turns out a female B.A. degree in four +years.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right,” Dr. Peters agreed. “It’s a big job, too. +I don’t know, Ruth. Today I wondered if all our youth +hadn’t suddenly turned shallow and callous—after the +girls left the hospital and I watched them walk away +laughing and chatting like magpies. I wondered where +the dignity of youth was nowadays. Well, at any rate, it +looks like Susan will have a chance. Leda is another matter. +She wants to see Susan—and that’s what I came over +about. I’d like to arrange a meeting between the two of +them tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that wise, Ted?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve talked to Susan, and I think I know her well +enough now to be sure that it’ll be very wise in her case. +It’s cruel to ask her to witness the fallen Leda, and yet, +perhaps it’s the only way to prove to her once and for all +how very sick Leda is and was. The mental sickness is +becoming more pronounced than the physical. That +wreck didn’t really injure Leda. It awoke her. The neuroses +that was growing in her subconscious mind suddenly +came to grips with the conscious mind at the time +of the wreck. The impact of that meeting is what she +<a id="page-163" class="pagenum" title="163"></a> +can’t bridge. She knows her two selves now, and she can’t +assimilate them. It’s very serious, Ruth, and I’m counting +on her seeing Susan to help.” +</p> + +<p> +The phone was on the desk, and Dean Paterson +reached for it, hesitating a moment before she remembered +the number of the dorm where Susan Mitchell was +living. +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Mitch finished hanging up the last dress and turned +to look at the room in Main Dorm where she had moved. +The boxes were empty, and the suitcase had been shoved +under the bed by the wall. Robin sat limp in the chair +near the desk, her short legs relaxed in front of her, her +arms hanging down at the side. “Finally!” she sighed. “I +thought we’d never finish.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were wonderful to help, Robin.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d help anyone out of that kind of hell. You should +have done it months ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess so,” Mitch agreed. She sat on the bed and +flicked the radio on, waiting for it to warm up. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” Robin said, “Monday night after you +didn’t show up here, I thought you’d weakened and +changed your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch got a station that was playing waltz music. She +fixed the tone so it was not too loud, and didn’t answer +Robin. The Dean had warned her that it would be hard. +People would want to know why she had moved out of +the sorority. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything new on Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +The question jarred Mitch. She had heard from Dr. +Peters that Leda had called for her at the wreck, that she +had said all those things about her, crying out her love +before she came to in the hospital. Half of Mitch remembered +Leda with the raven-colored hair and the +keen, delicate hands, the jade eyes and the soft words, but +even in that half there was a tinge of bitter irony in +<a id="page-164" class="pagenum" title="164"></a> +Mitch’s memory, flowing into the other half of the remembered +Leda. The half that had betrayed her. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you must be worried,” Robin continued. “I +never trusted her, myself. There was something about +her. But I know you like her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have to know her,” Mitch said, hoping the dull +edge on her words <a id="corr-14"></a>was not obvious to Robin. +</p> + +<p> +Robin yawned and stretched. “Yeah,” she said. “You +can never tell. I’m going to run along. Got a mad date +with Tom Edwards.” +</p> + +<p> +After she left, Mitch sat in the chair, hearing the music +and thinking of Leda lying in the hospital, sick and +alone. She did not want to hate Leda for all that she had +done. Dr. Peters had helped her to understand Leda, but +there was still the pain left from the way it had all blown +up and left her burned. And Leda had struck the match +to the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“She was sick when she loved you,” Dr. Peters had +said, “and you caught some of that sickness. You’re going +to be all right. Leda may never be all right again.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch thought of it again—what would have happened +if everything had gone the way Leda had planned +it. She tried to picture her father’s face, contorted with +anger and resentment and disgust, the way it would have +been if she had been sent home from Cranston. +</p> + +<p> +But Leda was sick. +</p> + +<p> +Mitch turned the radio off and yelled, “O.K.” into the +buzzer on her wall. She wondered who would be buzzing +her number. Robin was gone with Tom Edwards, and +she didn’t know anyone else yet. +</p> + +<p> +She picked up the comb again and fixed her hair before +the mirror. It was getting longer, and she thought of +having a permanent so the curl would stay in and not +come down after swimming class. She turned the light +off and shut the door. A girl passed her in the hall on her +way to the steps, and Mitch returned her smile. The +<a id="page-165" class="pagenum" title="165"></a> +dorm was friendlier, she decided, and the smile made her +feel better as she went down the stairs into the lobby to +answer the buzzer. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” Lucifer grinned. “You took your sweet time +getting down here.” +</p> + +<p> +He was wearing a pair of old olive-green pants and a +spotted brown sweater. There was a cap on his head, with +faded Greek letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon my attire,” he said. “I just finished scrimmage. +Want to have a Coke with a famous Cranston +peasant?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch laughed and ran back up the stairs to get her +coat. Lucifer was fun. +</p> + +<p> +They sat together in a small booth at the Student +Union. Lucifer handed her a nickel. “Go ahead,” he +said, “play anything you like. I’m extravagant, I know. +But go ahead.” +</p> + +<p> +She read the list of selections on the machine at the +side of the booth and pushed the button for number nine +after she slid the nickel in the slot. Bing Crosby’s voice +floated out over the room. “Little early for White Christmas,” +Lucifer said. “Or is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Six weeks early,” Mitch said. “I love Christmas, +though.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have a miserable Christmas.” Lucifer frowned. +“You’ll miss me till you’re almost crazy.” +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon went <a id="corr-16"></a>easily. Mitch forgot a lot with +Lucifer chatting away in her ear, running back and forth +with Cokes, making her laugh with his idiotic talk. It +wasn’t until they were leaving that she saw Marybell Van +Casey sitting in the opposite booth. A flash of heat shot +through Mitch when their eyes met, and she stood in the +aisle beside Lucifer, uncertain whether to speak or move +on. Casey smiled and her face broke in sudden friendliness. +“Hi,” she said. “How are you, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +There were others at the table, but Mitch felt relieved +<a id="page-166" class="pagenum" title="166"></a> +when she saw that they were not Tri Eps. She said, +“I’m fine.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t talk,” Lucifer broke in. “We have to catch +a train. We’re eloping.” +</p> + +<p> +Casey laughed, and Mitch could feel the tension leave +when Casey called out, “Get back in time for swim meet +Monday. I think you’ll make the team, Mitch. No kidding.” +</p> + +<p> +“Teams!” Lucifer said as he took her arm and led her +out of the room. “Teams at a time like this!” +</p> + +<p> +When he left her at the entrance to Main Dorm, he +asked her to go out with him on Saturday. “We’ll go to +a movie,” he said. “After all, it’s our honeymoon. We +might as well splurge.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch agreed. She pushed the door open and walked +through the lobby of the dorm toward the stairs. The +small girl at the reception desk called out her name. +Mitch stopped and turned around. “Dean Paterson said +to call her at the office,” the girl told her. “You can use +the phone on this floor if you want. To your left.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“I’ll drive you over after dinner,” Dean Paterson told +Mitch over the phone. “Now, keep your chin up and +don’t worry about it. I’ll pick you up at seven.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch hung up. She stayed there in the booth and +looked dumbly at the four walls, marked with penciled +phone numbers, red lipstick prints where someone had +kissed one of the walls, pictures of rabbits and girls’ +heads, the sign that said, “Others are waiting,” and the +one that said, “Well! Don’t take all day!” She pulled the +door back and walked slowly toward the stairs. A girl ran +out of her room and brushed up against Mitch, saying, +“I’m sorry,” and hurrying on, with her coat flying in the +wind she made as she ran. +</p> + +<p> +What kind of reunion would it be there in the hospital, +Mitch wondered? What would they say to each other? +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +<a id="page-167" class="pagenum" title="167"></a> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The headlights blinded Mitch as she walked toward +the car. Dr. Peters got out and let her move in so that +she was sitting between them. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t take long,” Dean Paterson said, “but it’s very +important.” +</p> + +<p> +“How—is Leda?” Even the name was hard to say. Again +a favorite slogan of her father’s ran through her mind: +“Every good pencil has an eraser.” She wanted desperately +to erase Leda from her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s still in serious condition,” Dr. Peters answered, +“but we’re hopeful. She asked to see you. Two of her +sorority sisters were over this morning. I asked them to +do something for me and they did it very well. Now I’m +going to ask you, Susan.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Peters explained that Leda still thought Mitch was +going to be expelled. +</p> + +<p> +“She feels guilty,” he said, “and it’s preventing her +from wanting to get better. And yet we can’t let her +know that you’re not being expelled, because then she’d +realize that we know all about her, and she couldn’t take +that. You’ve got to try to make her feel as though everything’s +all right. Make her think you’re happy and that +you’ve forgiven her. You’ll be alone with her, Susan, but +we’ll be close by. If she gets emotional, try to be calm +yourself. Say things that will ease her mind about you. +All right?” +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson stopped for the light and reached over +to touch Mitch’s hand. “It won’t be easy for you, Susan,” +she said, “but try very hard, dear. Don’t tell her you’re +at the dorm. Tell her you’re staying with me until you +go home.” +</p> + +<p> +Tell her, don’t tell her, say, don’t say, all jumbled up +and crazy in her mind. Mitch watched the lights from +other cars and tried to remember what Leda’s face was +like. She couldn’t remember. And her voice. She couldn’t +<a id="page-168" class="pagenum" title="168"></a> +recall what Leda’s voice was like. High or low? Dr. Peters +and Dean Paterson kept talking, and Mitch could only +think that she did not even know Leda, or them, or why +she was there. The car swung into the spacious parking +lot behind the hospital, and the night air felt cold on +Mitch’s face as she stepped out of the car and followed +them into the building. +</p> + +<p> +Some students sat in the chairs at the right of the entrance, +and a telephone operator pulled out colored cords +from her board and kept repeating, “University Hospital, +one mo-ment” in a singsong tone. There was a strange +silence in the halls as they walked, and the elevator +seemed crowded, though there were just the three of +them, and Dr. Peters pushed the buttons himself. +</p> + +<p> +The door moved back automatically, and they walked +along until they came to the door with the screen in +front of it. Mitch went in and they waited outside. Dr. +Peters pushed the screen back when the nurse came out, +and Mitch could hear the door close behind her. Slowly +she walked toward the bed. When she saw Leda’s face in +the dim light, she knew why she was there. +</p> + +<p> +She said, “Leda?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda opened her eyes. She looked at Mitch without +smiling. She didn’t say anything, and Mitch moved +closer. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Leda,” Mitch said. +</p> + +<p> +Almost instantly Leda seemed to regain her energy. +She smiled and tried to move up farther on the big pillow +behind her head. “Hi, kid,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you feel?” +</p> + +<p> +“God, I feel lousy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Leda. Terribly sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +She was sorry, too. She knew it when she said it and +looked at the girl. She was plain sorry. +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t be sorry for me. I guess I ought to be +sorry myself, Mitch.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-169" class="pagenum" title="169"></a> +“No,” Mitch said. “Everything turned out O.K. for +me. You did best, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think so? You really believe that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, all I know is, I think it’s best the way you did +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“<em>You</em> would,” Leda laughed. “You <em>would</em>, Mitch. You +know something?” +</p> + +<p> +“What, Leda?” Mitch had never seen a face like that. +It looked old and lined with fear and worry. But it was +Leda’s face, Mitch realized, and there was something +there in the look that was not too strange. Familiar. +</p> + +<p> +“If I ever do anything good, I don’t know when I’m +doing it. You know what I mean? I just do it, and then +sometimes it turns out good. Do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know, Leda.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it turned out good for you, kid, I’m glad.” +</p> + +<p> +“It did, Leda. It turned out good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was worried,” Leda said, reaching over for her +cigarettes. “Hand me one, will you, kid? Dr. Peters said +I could smoke if I wanted today, but I didn’t feel like it +till now.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch gave her the cigarette and lit it for her with the +small, blue-covered matchbox that said, “Clean-Rite +Cleaners” on the top, and “You get it dirty—we’ll get it +clean.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was worried,” Leda continued. “I thought you’d be +sore at me. I wouldn’t have blamed you, either. I’m sorry +about the letter. Nessy found it, you know. There +wasn’t much I could do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” Mitch said. “Let’s not talk about it, Leda. +I’m glad you feel—” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute. Why <em>not</em> talk about it? Why not? You +don’t believe that Nessy found that letter, do you, Mitch? +Come on, Mitch. Even <em>you</em> don’t believe that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leda, please. Let’s forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it! My God, forget it! You know what it’s like +<a id="page-170" class="pagenum" title="170"></a> +to lie here in this goddamn bed and think about everything? +Some circus, this is! Some big circus!” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed and she stopped laughing abruptly. For +a moment the look of peace and ease came back to her +face and she smiled. “I do feel better,” she said. “Marsha +and Kitten were here this morning. I haven’t seen Jake +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you’ll see him tomorrow,” Mitch said. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell, who am I kidding? I’m not kidding you, am I, +Mitch? I don’t care if I ever see him again.” Leda blew +the smoke out and tried to sit up farther. Mitch moved +over to help her with the pillow. Leda’s eyes met Mitch’s +then under the light. They seemed to lose some of their +green color, and there were lines around the sockets under +them. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not kidding you, am I, Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +Leda caught Mitch’s hand when she brought it back +from the pillow. “You know I don’t give a damn about +Jake, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitch felt the coldness of Leda’s skin. The same skin +that used to feel warm and send chills through her and +excite her. A momentary physical memory came back, +but the warmth was fleeting and then dead when she +looked back at Leda’s face. She tried to pull her hand +away but Leda held it tightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you the other night. I told you right that night, +Mitch. Remember that. No matter what happens after +I get out of here, don’t forget I told you right. I probably +won’t see you again, anyway.” Her voice seemed to +break on the last sentence. She said, “Going home, Mitch? +Back to Seedmore or Sneedmore or wherever it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” Mitch said. She saw the tears in the +corners of Leda’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You know I don’t want to be without you, don’t you?” +Her fingers fastened more strongly on Mitch’s and Mitch +could feel her crushing them. She could feel her own eyes +<a id="page-171" class="pagenum" title="171"></a> +fill. It wasn’t because of Leda. It was <em>for</em> Leda that she +wanted to cry. She wanted to cry a long time for Leda. +</p> + +<p> +She said, “Yes, I know that, Leda. Don’t think about +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s hard not to think about it. God! God! God!” Leda +let Mitch’s hand go and moved her head back and forth +on the pillow, clasping her own hands together and saying, +“God, oh, God!” Then she did not move, but stared +straight ahead and talked slowly. “You know something, +Mitch? It’s going to be all right. I’ve just got a feeling +that it’s going to be all right. I mean, maybe I didn’t do +too bad by you. Hell, there are plenty of colleges and +sororities. You wouldn’t have to go far away. I could still +see you.” +</p> + +<p> +A tear came down Mitch’s cheek. God help her, she +thought. Oh, God help Leda. She needs help now. +</p> + +<p> +Leda saw the tear. She smiled, and her voice rose. +“You crazy kid! You’re crying! You’re crying!” Her own +tears came forward. “You got me crying too,” she said. +“You crazy kid!” +</p> + +<p> +Leda reached for the ash tray and put the cigarette in +it. The smoke spiraled up. Her face was wet, and she +began to talk faster with the tears coming too. “Maybe +you can see me again before you go. When are you going, +Mitch?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” Mitch said. “I’m not sure. It’s up to +the Dean.” +</p> + +<p> +“You—you didn’t tell her about me? I wouldn’t blame +you if you did. I want to know, though. Did you, Mitch?” +The edge of her white cloth hospital gown was wet and +the tears did not stop. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Mitch said, “I didn’t tell her.” Please, God, she +thought, forgive me for lying to her. There are enough +lies. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t blame you, Mitch. I wouldn’t blame you +if you hated my guts. You do, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-172" class="pagenum" title="172"></a> +She began to laugh then, and to cry and sob, her +shoulders shaking and her hands covering the wild expression +of hysteria. Mitch kept saying, “I don’t hate you, +Leda. No, I don’t hate you at all.” +</p> + +<p> +The thick sound from Leda cut into Mitch’s words and +rang through the room, persistent and hammering. Mitch +backed away, her heart throbbing, afraid to go near Leda +while it kept up and Leda writhed in the sheets. Momentarily +Leda’s hand left her face and she stared ahead, +quietly, unmoving, but this lasted only a quick second +and she lapsed back again, laughing and weeping, her +whole body convulsed. +</p> + +<p> +Fear ran through Mitch, and when the nurse opened +the door and took the needle over to Leda, Mitch looked +back once more, and left the room remembering Leda +like that. +</p> + +<p> +Dean Paterson was waiting outside, and her arm went +around Mitch’s waist as they walked along the hall. +Mitch could see the thin figure of Dr. Peters waiting at +the end of the corridor, and she could smell the tangy +odor of his tobacco. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-12"> +<a id="page-173" class="pagenum" title="173"></a> +Chapter Twelve +</h2> + +</div> + +<p class="first"> +There was a warm sun that morning, and the air was +so cold that the messenger boy could see his breath as he +walked up the steps. He pushed the button and shuffled +his feet and clapped his hands together after he laid the +package beside him on the porch and waited for someone +to answer the door. +</p> + +<p> +He could hear an alarm go off somewhere in the house. +It was early in Greek Town, eight o’clock, and across the +street at the Delta Pi house, the windows on the second +and third floors were half open and the shades were +down. +</p> + +<p> +A girl in a blue wool robe answered the door and +signed for the package. The boy could see other girls +through the door, filing lazily into a large dining room, +wearing robes like the one this girl had on. He could +smell bacon and eggs and hot coffee while he stood there +waiting for her to put her signature on his pad. She +handed it back to him, and he picked up the package +and gave it to her. Then he hurried down the steps to +his bicycle, and took off at a good speed. +</p> + +<p> +Bebe Duncan rapped on the door to Nessy’s suite. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a package,” she said, “from Kansas City.” +</p> + +<p> +Inside, Nessy put the final touch to her dress, the +small square-shaped pearl brooch. She was proud of the +fact that she <em>never</em> ate breakfast in a robe, that she was +always dressed for the day by eight o’clock in the morning +at the latest. She fluffed her hair and gave one last +jab to her nose with the powder puff. +</p> + +<p> +“Coming,” she said, sliding the lock back and emerging +from the room, her lilac perfume filling the hall +<a id="page-174" class="pagenum" title="174"></a> +where Bebe stood with the package. “We’ll bring it into +the breakfast room.” She smiled, walking stanchly ahead +and leaving Bebe to follow with it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a noisy scraping of chairs as the Tri Eps +stood up when Mother Nesselbush entered beaming and +walked regally to the head table, where she pushed her +fat hips into the chair. They all sat down again, and +watched Bebe bring the package and Nessy take a knife +to the string. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” she said, “that I know what this is.” She +looked very secret, with her lips puckered in a cryptic +expression of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +The brown paper fell from the box and Nessy reached +into it and pulled out rumpled sheets of white tissue and +another box, a red one. She set it on the table and lifted +the cover. The Tri Eps gasped and sighed. The silverware +looked beautiful and brilliant against the red velvet +background. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee,” Bebe Duncan said. “With Mitch gone, they +might take it back now.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Nessy said, her eyes dazzled with the silver +pieces, her mind filled with vivid pictures of intimate +gatherings in her suite with the other housemothers, and +the way they too would gasp and sigh when they saw it. +“After all, we did what was asked. We pledged the girl +and gave her a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +One by one the Tri Eps came by the table to touch the +silver and run their fingers along the magnificent crest. +They left their breakfast and hung around the table +where the box lay. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll use it for the exchange with Delta Pi next +week,” Jane Bell said, holding a fork so that it caught the +light and gleamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, let’s not wait till then. How about Sunday dinner, +tomorrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t even out of the box yet.” +</p> + +<p> +<a id="page-175" class="pagenum" title="175"></a> +“Look at the demitasse spoons!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now all we need is cups.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not long after she had opened the box that +Mother Nesselbush was called to the phone. She left the +girls in the dining room, exclaiming, fondling each piece, +planning for its use, Marsha by that time advising all of +them that they had better vote on whether to save it for +special occasions or to use it every day. When Nessy entered +the small phone booth outside the dining room, +Marsha was asking for a show of hands. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Nesselbush’s face was strangely animated when +she reappeared and stood in the entrance. There was a +look of grimness, oddly striped with fascination and a +secret pleasure at the thought of the shock she was about +to introduce to Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon. +</p> + +<p> +“Girls,” she said. “Please—everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned and faced her and she waited. She looked +down at the tablecloth and the rows of dishes filled with +cold eggs and curled pieces of bacon. It was very quiet. +She said, “Dr. Peters just called from the University Hospital. +Leda Taylor has had a complete nervous breakdown. +Her mother arrived late last night, and Leda is +completely out of control. Absolutely broken!” +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, and then the noise of the sudden +rush of voices, and the fork that fell from Marsha’s hand +and clattered to the floor. Mother Nesselbush held her +hand up for silence. “We are to pack her things. I suggest +that Marsha and Kitten come into my apartment +immediately to make plans for this.” +</p> + +<p> +The three of them left the dining room, and left behind +them the gabble of high voices and the low buzz of +awed exclamations and the repetition of her name, +“Leda!” +</p> + +<p> +Nessy shut the doors to her apartment and leaned forward, +whispering as though her words could be heard +through the walls. “I saw it coming,” she said. “When I +<a id="page-176" class="pagenum" title="176"></a> +talked to Dean Paterson yesterday I could feel it coming. +She’ll have to go to an institution.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gee,” Kitten said. “Leda!” +</p> + +<p> +“I could just read into everything the doctor said when +he called. I just know she’s a wild woman over there in +that hospital. A wild woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder where she’ll be sent?” Marsha said. +</p> + +<p> +Nessy’s face was bubbling, and her eyes were shining +as though she had fever. “She won’t have a thing to do +with her mother. There’s only one place she could go. +An <em>asylum</em>.” She said the word “asylum” with a heavy +tone of dread, and a note of finality for Leda, almost as +though she had said “the grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord,” Kitten said. “Leda in a nut house. Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +Marsha looked away from them and toward the window +and the leaves running along the front of the house. +She said, “As Tri Epsilons we must do everything we can +for her. I wonder,” she said dramatically, pausing, her +brow wrinkled, “I wonder if—if insane people can read +mail.” +</p> + +<p class="tb"> +* * * +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Dr. Peters lingered in the hall near the door as Susan +Mitchell buttoned her coat and put her scarf around her +head. “Then I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said, taking her +hand in a friendly good-by, “and have a nice week end, +Susan. Any big plans?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going on a hay ride tonight. Robin and Tom and +Lucifer and me. That’s about all I’ve planned.” +</p> + +<p> +He let her hand go and smiled as he held the door +open. “Sounds like fun,” he answered. “By, Susan.” +</p> + +<p> +It was cold and there was a warning of snow in the +fresh sweep of the breeze as Mitch walked along the +path from the hospital. She had a clean feeling that was +there whenever she finished talking with Dr. Peters, and +she knew she was whole now. The tower bell struck five +times, and distant figures of students carrying books hurried +<a id="page-177" class="pagenum" title="177"></a> +along the far walks, their breaths frosting faintly in +the cold air. When she went by the auditorium, she could +hear the university choir rehearsing for the Christmas +pageant, and the nostalgic strains drifted out to her. +Dusk was dressing the campus, and as Mitch walked with +the music in her heart, she thought of Leda—hazily, as +though she were someone she had known a long, long +time ago. +</p> + +<p> +She knew that if it had been any other way—if Leda +Taylor could have been helped, and could have at that +moment walked there too and known the peace in the +twilight and the first hints of frost on the grass and +bushes surrounding Cranston—Mitch would have wanted +that. Because it was true what she had told Leda yesterday. +She didn’t hate her. She didn’t hate her at all, and +she knew then that she had never really loved her. +</p> + +<p class="end"> +The End +</p> + +<p class="seal"> +The Gold Medal seal on this book means it +has never been published as a book before. +To select an original book that you have not +read before, look for the Gold Medal seal. +</p> + +<div class="ads chapter"> +<p class="hdr1"> +A STARTLING OFFER<br> +TO READERS OF<br> +GOLD MEDAL BOOKS! +</p> + +<p class="hdr1"> +TWELVE BESTSELLING<br> +NOVELS ABSOLUTELY FREE<br> +<em>with your subscription to</em><br> +GOLD MEDAL BOOK CLUB! +</p> + +<p class="i"> +YES, because of the demands of satisfied Gold Medal +readers like yourself, Gold Medal has started a sensational +new service for its 30,000,000 readers! +</p> + +<div class="centerpic medal fl"> +<img src="images/medal.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<p class="hdr2"> +CLIP THIS COUPON AND MAIL IT <em>NOW</em>— +</p> + +<p class="hdr1"> +Join the GOLD MEDAL<br> +Book CLUB NOW! +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="ads chapter"> +<p class="hdr1"> +Join the<br> +GOLD MEDAL BOOK CLUB! +</p> + +<p class="i hdr3"> +How the Gold Medal Book Club Operates: +</p> + +<p> +Each month during the year we will send you without charge a pre-paid +return postcard listing a choice of seven books for that month, with +a condensed description of each. 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A delicate subject, masterfully +told. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +132. WOMEN’S BARRACKS <em>Tereska Torres</em> +</p> + +<p> +Intimate personal revelations of a member of the +Free French women’s army. A factual account of +women in war. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +141. HILL GIRL <em>Charles Williams</em> +</p> + +<p> +Angelina was born to trouble—and most of it was +men. A novel of primitive passions by a brilliant new +writer. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +142. JEWEL OF THE JAVA SEA <em>Dan Cushman</em> +</p> + +<p> +The exotic adventures of a lusty soldier of fortune in +the lotus land of the tropical South Pacific. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +157. WESTPORT LANDING <em>Homer Hatten</em> +</p> + +<p> +The lusty, brawling days of the Santa Fe Trail. With +the most memorable characters since Rhett Butler +and Scarlett O’Hara. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +163. BIG CITY GIRL <em>Charles Williams</em> +</p> + +<p> +Joy didn’t belong in the back country. She was too +bold and too brassy. Besides her husband was in jail +and she was manhungry. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +167. THE JUDAS HOUR <em>Howard Hunt</em> +</p> + +<p> +She saved him from degradation. But she was evil +beyond belief and she would betray him as quickly. +By the author of <em>The Violent Ones</em>. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +171. I, MOBSTER <em>Anonymous</em> +</p> + +<p> +From the gutter of Rivington Street to the luxury of +Park Avenue, this personal account of the rise of a +crime czar begins where the Kefauver Committee +left off. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +176. CROCKETT’S WOMAN <em>Eric Hatch</em> +</p> + +<p> +He was from the wrong side of the tracks. She was +the idle rich. Their love was torture and ecstasy. By +the author of <em>My Man Godfrey</em>. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +178. CABIN ROAD <em>John Faulkner</em> +</p> + +<p> +A slice of the lusty passionate back country life that +made <em>Tobacco Road</em> a classic. John Faulkner’s best +book. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +183. ... AND BE MY LOVE <em>Ledru Baker, Jr.</em> +</p> + +<p> +They tried all pleasures and they knew all pain. Here +is one of the most frankly told love stories to appear +on our list. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +189. CASSIDY’S GIRL <em>David Goodis</em> +</p> + +<p> +Mildred Cassidy was a lusty woman who knew what +she wanted—and how she wanted it. A salty, elemental +novel of the waterfront. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +190. FIRES THAT DESTROY <em>Harry Whittington</em> +</p> + +<p> +She brought death to one man that she might live +with another. A relentless search into the soul of a +sinful woman. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +197. THE LADY AND THE CHEETAH <em>John Flagg</em> +</p> + +<p> +When the most beautiful woman in Europe offered +Rafferty a job, he figured he was in luck. He was in +luck, but none of it was good. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +200. WEEP FOR ME <em>John D. MacDonald</em> +</p> + +<p> +Emily loved money as other women love men. To +satisfy her craving, she seduced Cameron, drained +from him his manhood, his morals, and his soul. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +202. THE UNPOSSESSED <em>William H. Fielding</em> +</p> + +<p> +Her every word, her every gesture promised delight. +Yet she fought like a hellcat any man who touched +her. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +204. DEATH FOR MR. BIG <em>John Gonzales</em> +</p> + +<p> +On her wedding night they took her husband from +her bed and shot him. But she had weapons of revenge. +A beautiful face. A lovely body. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +209. FOOLS WALK IN <em>Bruno Fischer</em> +</p> + +<p> +She was running for her life when Knight picked +her up on the highway and gave her a lift. He didn’t +know what she was then ... and later he didn’t +care. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +211. 13 FRENCH STREET <em>Gil Brewer</em> +</p> + +<p> +Alex came to visit his friend, who was mysteriously +ill. He could not know that the sickness was in the +soul of a woman—his friend’s wife. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +213. THE GOLDEN WOMAN <em>Eric Hatch</em> +</p> + +<p> +In proud, exotic Haiti, Walter Moore fell in love with +a woman who was a part of the land’s passionate +nature, whose body awoke to the beat of the voodoo +drums. By the author of <em>Crockett’s Woman</em>. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +215. CONQUEST <em>Homer Hatten</em> +</p> + +<p> +Clay Farrar came out of Missouri seeking a peace he +was not to find. Hard men with guns changed his +plans. And beautiful Toni O’Neill. The story of the +man who tamed Texas, by the author of <em>Westport +Landing</em>. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +218. HERE IS MY BODY <em>Booth Mooney</em> +</p> + +<p> +Renie helped her man climb to success. The rungs of +the ladder she used were made of the bodies of her +lovers—men who thought they had conquered her. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +219. THE SHELTERING NIGHT <em>Steve Fisher</em> +</p> + +<p> +Ronnie was a saint by day, a sinner by night. A perpetual +temptation to every man, a soul-searing torment +to herself. By the author of <em>Destination Tokyo</em>. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +221. THE FORBIDDEN ROOM <em>Jaclen Steele</em> +</p> + +<p> +All her life, she had lived in fear and fascination of +the room. At last she was to learn its depraved +secrets. A novel of haunting terror. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +222. SPRING FIRE <em>Vin Packer</em> +</p> + +<p> +A novel of love between two beautiful women. Honest, +provocative, it deals with a theme too important +to keep from the light. +</p> + +<p class="book"> +224. TEARS ARE FOR ANGELS <em>Paul Connolly</em> +</p> + +<p> +What happens when a man finds his wife in another’s +arms in his own bedroom? Harry London +knew, and this is his story. By the author of <em>Get Out +of Town</em>. +</p> + + </div> +<p class="dealer"> +In case your local dealer cannot supply you, send 25 cents for each +copy desired, plus 5 cents per book for handling and mailing, to +</p> + +<p class="gm"> +GOLD MEDAL BOOKS<br> +Fawcett Place, Greenwich, Conn. +</p> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<div class="centerpic medal mtb5"> +<img src="images/medal.jpg" alt=""></div> + +</div> + +<div class="frontmatter chapter"> +<div class="centerpic"> +<img src="images/backcover.jpg" alt=""></div> + +</div> + +<div class="trnote chapter"> +<p class="transnote"> +Transcriber’s Notes +</p> + +<p> +The original spelling was mostly preserved. +A few obvious typographical and punctuation errors as well as variations in hyphenation +were silently amended. +All other changes are shown here (before/after): +</p> + + + +<ul> + +<li> +... “I’m sorry, Leda,” she said finally. “I’m <span class="underline">awful</span> sorry I ...<br> +... “I’m sorry, Leda,” she said finally. “I’m <a href="#corr-2"><span class="underline">awfully</span></a> sorry I ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... of sight. Across the <span class="underline">streets</span> the Delta Pi’s were staging a ...<br> +... of sight. Across the <a href="#corr-3"><span class="underline">street</span></a> the Delta Pi’s were staging a ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... large fraternity pin on Kitten’s bosom. <span class="underline">They</span> they danced ...<br> +... large fraternity pin on Kitten’s bosom. <a href="#corr-4"><span class="underline">Then</span></a> they danced ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... the spoons on the <span class="underline">plate</span>. Mother Muriel had a knowing ...<br> +... the spoons on the <a href="#corr-6"><span class="underline">plates</span></a>. Mother Muriel had a knowing ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... and shook it. <span class="underline">They</span> they all saw Leda. The glass in the ...<br> +... and shook it. <a href="#corr-12"><span class="underline">Then</span></a> they all saw Leda. The glass in the ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... Susan was sent home, or what <span class="underline">become</span> of her. In that case, ...<br> +... Susan was sent home, or what <a href="#corr-13"><span class="underline">became</span></a> of her. In that case, ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... edge on her words <span class="underline">were</span> not obvious to Robin. ...<br> +... edge on her words <a href="#corr-14"><span class="underline">was</span></a> not obvious to Robin. ...<br> +</li> + +<li> +... The afternoon went <span class="underline">easy</span>. Mitch forgot a lot with ...<br> +... The afternoon went <a href="#corr-16"><span class="underline">easily</span></a>. Mitch forgot a lot with ...<br> +</li> +</ul> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79013 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |