by Vanda
“No.”
“But, Al, ya gotta. She’s gonna kick you out.”
“Good. Let her.” I pulled my suitcase down from the top of the closet. “I’m getting my own place.”
“But your mother—”
“Doesn’t care what I do,”
“That’s not true. She’s just a troubled person, and she thinks you’re gonna get in trouble in the city.”
“Good.” I threw my suitcase on the bed. “Maybe I will get into trouble, bad trouble. I’ll do awful things like … talk to strangers.” I scooped up my underthings from the dresser drawer and threw them into my suitcase. “And I’ll walk against the light, and I’ll—I’ll … I know! I’ll break into Mrs. Minton’s desk, steal her list of rules, and rip them up!”
“Oh, gosh, no! Don’t do that.”
“I will. Maybe. And even worse things like …. I can’t think of anything now, but I won’t follow one single rule. If it’s a rule, I’ll do the opposite.”
“You’re serious about this? You’re going to move into your own apartment?”
“I’m going out to start my life. That’s what I came to this city for, and instead, I’ve been living by my mother’s rules, and Mrs. Minton’s rules, and everybody else’s rules. I’m done with that. I’m going out to do something.” I heard Max’s voice telling me I was all talk.
“When are you going?”
“Today.”
“You’ll never find a place in one day.”
“Yes, I will. Before I came here, I bought a bunch of papers and sat in a diner tearing out ads.” I pulled the clippings from my pockets and tossed them onto the bed.
I went to the closet and pulled three dresses off their hangers.
“Then I’m going with you,” Aggie announced. “I’ll get Mrs. Minton to let us stay here while we’re looking.
“Your mother’ll never let you.” I tucked the dresses into the suitcase.
“Yes, she will. She’s real proud about how responsible I’ve been. I think it’ll be easy to talk her into it.”
“No kidding? If we got a place together, we could split the rent and—”
“Parties! We could have parties. ”
“Yeah, that too.”
After three days of looking, Aggie and I moved into a small one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a brownstone on Milligan Place. It wasn’t far from the Jefferson Market Courthouse and the Women’s House of Detention. The courthouse looked like a castle with a magnificent spire cutting a hole through the sky, and behind it was the jail. Sometimes when I walked by one of the locked up ladies, they would yell down things that weren’t very polite.
Our place was a little run-down. The heat made lots of noise, sometimes shaking us out of bed. Still, we were lucky. We had one of the few apartments in the Village with steam heat, not coal.
One day, we saw a rat run out of one of our kitchen cabinets into the parlor. Aggie jumped up on the couch screaming. I had to pretend I was brave and run after the thing with a broom and stomp it to death. We set up big traps around the place and it was my job to check them. Aggie and I battled the roaches together. There were a couple guys who went to Washington Square College who lived next door and played loud swing on their record player through the night.
We had one, long window that looked out through the parlor onto the fire escape and the courtyard beyond that. There was one sickly looking tree growing out of the concrete next to a cement bench down there. Aggie said she was gonna take care of it when spring came back.
I wrote to Dad to tell him about my new place and give him my new address. I knew he wouldn’t write back. He never did. That was just something he didn’t do. He wasn’t so comfortable talking to people either, so I never called him on the phone. He didn’t expect me to. All the days and months that Dad and I spent in the house alone when Mom was away, we didn’t talk very much. He read the paper or slept on the couch; I did my schoolwork or read classic novels and plays. When the house got real messy, I cleaned it. Sometimes he and I cooked a meal together. It never tasted very good, but it was fun. Other times Nana, Dad’s mom, brought us leftovers from her restaurant that we could heat up. I wondered if Dad had heard from Danny. Dad had always liked Danny and was glad he would one day be my husband.
The first few days after everything happened, I must’ve stopped at the phone in Bigelow’s Apothecaries a hundred times to call Danny, but each time I walked away.
Dickie said he hadn’t heard from Danny in almost a week. He said Danny showed up one day and packed some things, but most he left for Dickie. He gave Dickie his share of the rent money and left without explaining.
Aggie and Dickie kept asking me what happened.
“Did you two have a fight?” Aggie asked .
“It must’ve been a lollapalooza,” Dickie said. And on and on.
I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d discovered that night in Max’s apartment ’cause I didn’t want Danny’s friends thinking bad things about him.
I was so scared Danny’d do something crazy out there by himself without me. And if he didn’t come back soon, what would I do? Just the thought of it would wake me up in the middle of the night shaking.
I went to work and came home again and talked to Aggie or went out with Aggie and Dickie to eat at the Astor Place Diner, and all the time there was this deep pain inside me. I smiled so people wouldn’t ask me what was wrong.
Aggie started nagging me about going to Long Island for Thanksgiving with her and Dickie. We were sitting in our parlor.
“No, Aggie, please, I can’t go without Danny.”
“Maybe he’ll be there.”
“Why would Danny be there without telling anyone?”
“Who understands what Danny’s doing? But one thing’s certain—he’s not gonna leave his mother alone on Thanksgiving.”
“I think this year he is.”
“No. Think about it. Danny and his mother are close, so he’s gonna be there. If you go there, maybe you and him can get back together.”
I stared at the wall with the two matching pictures of wheat fields blowing in the wind that Aggie had bought at Woolworths. They wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for those penguins in the background. The clown she had hanging on the wall near the entrance to the kitchen was worse. She’d painted that in fourth grade, and it was ugly.
“It is gonna happen, Al. Go with us and you’ll see.”
“I said no. You and Dickie go. Leave me out of it.”
“But to be there without Danny and you would be terrible. I couldn’t go if you—”
“Then don’t, dammit. Just leave me out of it.”
“What’s wrong with you? What happened with you and Danny,” she demanded again.
“I walked in on him and Max. Together. Okay?” It just slipped out, and I couldn’t take it back.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You mean Danny’s a limpwrister?”
“Don’t call him names. Just leave me alone. I gotta think.”
I grabbed my coat and left the apartment heading nowhere. I knew Aggie would be immediately on the phone to Dickie. Our phone had just been put in that day, and that would be her very first phone call.
The next day, we all got together at the Automat during Dickie’s break.
“You poor kid,” Dickie said as we huddled over our Cokes. “I still can’t believe it. When Aggie told me, I said ‘no, not Danny. Danny doesn’t have a sissy bone in his body.’ Oh, gosh. Him and me used to shower together in gym class. Do you think he looked at me that way?”
“Shut up, Dickie,” I said. “We’re talking about Danny, not some sick sidewalk pervert.”
“But he could become that,” Aggie said.
“Cut it out,” I said.
“Well, where do you think those guys start out from? In nice families, in nice homes with nice friends and then one day—bingo.” She snapped her fingers. “They snap.”
“Max say
s people can’t help being that way. That’s how they’re born and they can’t change it. It’s not their fault.”
“Oh, yeah, Max would say that. He’s one of them. I read,” Aggie continued, “that people get that way ’cause their mother is cold and distant. Or did it say she was overly warm and protective? I forget which. One of them, but Danny’s always been close to his mother. Maybe that’s why. It’s a sin you know.”
“And since when did you get religious?” I asked her.
“I went to Sunday school.”
“And flirted with the assistant pastor.”
“What?” Dickie said, giving Aggie a look.
“It was a long time ago,” she told Dickie. “You and I weren’t even going together officially yet. Look, I’m just telling you what the Bible says. You go to hell if you do …. What exactly did Danny do?”
“Yeah,” Dickie asked. “What?”
“I don’t know. I just walked in on—”
“On what? You gotta spill it,” Aggie said. “You gotta let it out, or it’ll get all stuck inside you, and it’ll cramp you up, and you’ll get all repressed like that girl in Lady in the Dark . The psychiatrist made her talk it out, and she got better. So come on, Al, what’d ya see?”
“It’s private.”
“Oh, geez, look at the time,” Dickie said. “I gotta get back to work. Aggie, you be sure to tell me everything Al says.” He kissed her on top of the head, “Ya see, I’m no faggot.”
“Neither is Danny. How can you just drop him like that, Dickie? You’re his friend. He needs our help.”
“I’m sorry, Al, but I can’t be associated with someone like that.”
“Danny’s been a good friend to you. He was a friend to you when no one else was. He never teased you about dancing or wetting your pants in first grade.”
“Geez, Al, why don’t you get on a megaphone and tell the whole place. You wanna ruin my life in the city, too?”
“I’m trying to get you to remember who Danny is, what he’s done for you, for all of us. He beat up kids in the schoolyard for you ’cause they called you a fairy.”
“Well, I’m not. ”
“And neither is Danny. We gotta find him and help him.”
“I can’t,” Dickie said and left to go back to work.
Aggie said, “Al, ya gotta understand. We can’t be around someone like that. Who’s gonna hire us if our friends are sissies? We’re in the theater.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling sadder than ever. They were dumping Danny. I was, too, maybe. I should’ve called him the very next day before he had time to move away, but I didn’t. Why? I didn’t know who Danny was anymore. But who would I be now without him? Inside, the shaking started again.
“Ya know what this means,” Aggie whispered.
“No. What?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Max didn’t do, you know, with me ’cause he’s the sick one. Him and his so-called professionalism. What a lot of hogwash. He didn’t do anything ’cause he couldn’t. Not with a real woman. Or any woman.” She laughed. “Such a sissy.”
“And maybe Max did mean you should act professionally instead of doing what you did. Maybe Max saved you from making a really big mistake in the future.” I’m defending Max. What’s happening to me?
“Okay, maybe. But I bet Max hypnotized Danny.”
“Hypnotized him? What do ya mean?”
“I told you that’s what they do. They hypnotize innocent people into becoming like them. Then they make the person addicted.”
“Addicted? You mean like that movie we saw in church last year? Reefer Madness. ”
“Just like that. Remember how those people went crazy ’cause they couldn’t get any reefer. Well, this is just like that. They keep doing it even though they don’t want to. They’re called homosexual addicts.”
“How would a person know if they were getting addicted?”
“They probably wouldn’t know. They’d just think a lot of perverted thoughts.”
“They would?” Juliana’s face popped into my head. And that kiss. I felt her lips on mine. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah. Look it up. True Confessions has stories about it all the time.”
“How does a person get over their addiction?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty hard. They have to be strong.”
I had to see Juliana right away and tell her I couldn’t see her anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
I stood in Juliana’s line again. But this time I was mad. That’s why I hadn’t gone to her show. I thought seeing her show would soften me up, and I didn’t want to be softened up. I wanted to be mad.
A few girls in front of me giggled with their dates. When Juliana came to the door wearing a green dress with a pleated skirt gathered around the middle, all set to sign autographs, I jumped out of line. “Juliana. I gotta talk to you.”
“Do you?” she grinned. “Sorry, folks, but I seem to have a command performance.”
People laughed as they left the line, but I didn’t care. I had something to do and I was gonna do it. I marched into Juliana’s dressing room. “How could you do that to me?”
“What?” she asked.
“You kissed me.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“That’s beside the point. I’m a kid. Eighteen. And you’re, you’re …?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Oh, damn, now I asked you your age and you’re not sposed to ask a woman her age.”
“You’re not?”
“Not where I come from. And I’m also not sposed to curse, but ’cause of you I just did.”
“You seem to have a lot of rules to follow.”
“No, I don’t! I left Hope House so I wouldn’t have rules. I don’t follow anybody’s rules anymore. But I said damn a minute ago so you see what you’re doing to me? ”
“No.” She sat down at her vanity. “Tell me.”
“Well, you got me feeling things and what am I gonna do?”
“About what?”
“About what you did.”
“I don’t know. Do you want to come to my place and talk about it?”
“No. You’re gonna—”
“I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.” She stood, pulling on her mink. “Shall we?”
I sighed. “Okay. But just talk.”
“Whatever you want.”
When we arrived at Juliana’s upstairs rooms, she said, “Take off your coat, and hang it up. You know where.”
“I’ll keep it on. I’m not staying long.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll put on the tea.”
“Forget the tea. I’m not staying.”
“All right. But I’d like, at least, a glass of wine. Is that all right with you, Miss Huffman?”
“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
“Thank you.” She went into the kitchen.
I hung my hat and coat in the closet and paced in her parlor. What am I doing here? I looked out the window. She’s not gonna kiss me again. I won’t let that happen again. The memory of that kiss came back to me and almost knocked me over.
Juliana came through the music room into the parlor, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. She placed them on the coffee table.
“Sit down.” She smoothed out her skirt as she sat.
Her breasts, two sharp points, pressed against her blouse, and I wondered what …. Stop thinking like that.
“Sit down,” she repeated and patted the couch next to her. I sat on the very end, not next to her. “Tell me what you wanted to tell me.”
“Well … you can’t just go around kissing anyone like that.”
“I didn’t. I only kissed you .”
“Well, you can’t … I mean, you can’t …. You’re a girl, and I’m a girl,
and— ”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine?”
“No. You’re not gonna get me drunk.”
“Why woul
d I want to do that?” She poured herself a glass and took a sip; she put the glass down on the coffee table and sat way back on the couch. “You’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”
“Huh? Me? No. Not me. I’m—I’m …. Why’d you do that? Kiss me.”
“I was seducing you. ”
“I don’t get it. I mean, I know what the words mean. I’m not stupid. But why…?”
“Because you’re charming. Still, I wasn’t positive I was going to kiss you until after you recited the Saint Joan speech and asked me if I’d ever felt that I didn’t deserve certain words. At first, I thought, of course not, that’s absurd, but then … I did think of some words that seemed almost too beautiful to give breath to. Words that you might hear in a special poem, or—words you might hear in church. I don’t think ‘deserve’ is the correct sense of what you meant, though. I think you were searching for the word ‘awe’—the awe you feel when you’re standing before a great sculpture, or a piece of music, or a play. That’s when I knew I had to have you.”
“You can’t have me. I belong to myself.”
“I don’t mean own you.” She rubbed her temples between her forefingers. “I’m running out of vocabulary here. You didn’t like the kiss. I’m sorry. I rather enjoyed it myself, but if you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”
“It’s just …. Well, you’re not sposed to ….”
“I thought you weren’t going to follow any more rules.”
“I’m not, but ….” I sat there trying to figure out an answer for her, but my thoughts were wrapped up with looking at her sitting there. I wanted her to kiss me, but I couldn’t say that after all the fuss I made about her not kissing me, so I stared at her hoping she’d pick up my thought waves.
“It’s too bright in here,” she said. “It hurts my eyes.” She stood and turned off the floor lamp near the couch so that there was only one small table lamp glowing. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
She lit the two candles on the mantel.
I was mesmerized by the way she moved with such ease, each part of her flowing into the next without ever bumping into the furniture.
“It’s a little chilly. A fire in the fireplace would be nice, don’t you think?” She took the poker from its holder and squatted down to push at some of the partially burnt logs that lay in the fireplace. She struck a long match against a piece of flint and the fire took hold. “There. That’ll be comfy.”
