by Orrie Hitt
“There’s only one way to fix you,” he breathed, his other hand fighting with the bottom of the dress.
He had said it before and she knew what he meant.
“No,” she whispered. “Not that, Joe.”
“If I got you pregnant you’d have to marry me. There’d be no fooling around about it. You’d have your stomach full of trouble and it would settle things once and for all.”
At other times she had been able to talk him out of it but there was no reasoning with him this night. He was wild for her, wild, and she heard something rip as he pawed at her.
“Don’t, Joe!”
“Shut up.”
She made an effort to get away from him but she couldn’t.
“This is the next thing to rape,” she said.
“Not rape. Love.”
His body came to her and she felt a surge of fire race through her. He was kissing her and mumbling crazy things.
“I’m going to have you, baby. Have you.”
He did. He had her with all of the violence of an animal. She refused to respond to him; she lay there and let him have his way. Again and again he satisfied himself and each time she wanted to be sick.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he was through. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She said nothing as he drove her home.
There was nothing to say.
Chapter Three
THE NEXT day was Saturday and Cherry helped Rita with the washing.
“I was awake when you came in last night,” Rita said, “and heard you crying. Did you and Joe have a fight?”
“No.”
Cherry took a basket of wash out to the back yard and began hanging up the laundry. She felt like crying again. What if Joe had made her pregnant? That would ruin everything, change her whole life. Before she had left him he had begged her to understand and to forgive him. She hadn’t been able to do either. He had been careless with her and he could have planted the seed for a child.
“Marry me,” he had said.
“To hell with you.”
“You never swear, Cherry.” He sounded shocked.
“I am now. To hell with you.”
She moved along the line, pinning up the clothes. To hell with him was exactly right. Any man who would try to do that to a girl wasn’t much of a man.
They finished the washing before noon. Cherry went up to her room and changed from the old dress she had been wearing into shorts and halter. Most Saturday afternoons she spent at the city pool, swimming and lying in the sun.
Oscar was in the hall when she came downstairs.
“Going swimming?” he wanted to know.
“Yes.”
“I hope you’re not taking that red suit.”
“No.” She held up her black suit. “I’m using this one.”
He puffed on his pipe.
“That’s almost as bad. They’re both too tight. I don’t know why you don’t get something more conservative.”
“All the girls wear them.”
“But all the girls don’t look the way you do.”
She left the house and walked down to the corner to catch the bus. While she was waiting, Joe came along in his bread truck, pulled over and stopped.
“Take you somewhere?”
“Thanks, no.”
“Still sore about last night?”
“You know I am.”
“What about tonight?”
“Don’t bother me.”
He slammed the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb. So he was angry, was he? Well, it served him right. He deserved anything he got.
The bus was crowded with afternoon shoppers and she had to stand. She stood in front of a man with a foul-smelling cigar that made her cough.
“Bother you?” the man asked.
“That’s no word for it.”
It was against the law to smoke on the bus but the man continued to blow smoke in her direction. She was glad when they reached Kennedy Place and she could get off.
It was still early and there weren’t many people at the pool, just a few kids who were making a lot of noise and splashing each other. She paid at the entrance and continued on toward the locker room.
Inside one of the dressing rooms she got out of the shorts and halter and struggled into the suit. Oscar was right. It was tight, cutting into her thighs and dipping low over her breasts. Whenever she came out of the water she always had to pull up the straps.
“You give a free show,” Joe had told her once.
“How many girls don’t?”
“Only those who don’t have what it takes.”
“Which doesn’t mean me?”
“You’ve got more than it takes.”
She didn’t go into the water right away but lay on her stomach in the sun, closed her eyes and tried to think. What would she do if Joe had made her pregnant? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to think about it. Probably nothing had happened. More important was her new job and the sixty dollars a week she would be making. If she could save fifteen out of it each pay day, plus what she already had in the bank, she would be able to leave Northtown in September or October. But where should she go? New York seemed to be the best place and it would cost very little to get there. Carl Downing knew people in New York and he might be able to help her. She would have to talk to him about that. Once she was away from Northtown she would even strip if it meant getting a good start. Some strippers, she had heard, made big money and while she was earning a living she could be looking for something better. She would find somebody to give her additional instruction in singing and dancing and she would improve. Every artist did that. None of them ever stopped learning. And as they learned they made more and more money. Perhaps she could try some of the television talent shows; she might get a break that way. If she could win a contest she would have something that she could point to, an accomplishment that no one could deny.
“Nothing like being lazy,” somebody said.
She rolled over and sat up, looking up into the bright sun and blinking her eyes.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
It was Tom Lester. He was tall, over six feet, and he was quite heavy for his thirty-one years. He wore a pair of blue trunks and his legs were covered with a heavy growth of blonde hair.
He sat down beside her.
“I ought to be angry at you,” he said. “You know that?”
“I suppose so. It wasn’t a nice thing to do.”
“Most girls would have given notice.”
“I didn’t have a chance. I either had to start Monday or not at all.”
A boy ran past them and plunged into the water, following a girl who was squealing.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame anybody for wanting to make more money.”
“That’s decent of you.”
“But if it doesn’t work come and see me. We might be able to figure something out.”
“I appreciate that.”
The boy was now ducking the girl and she was screaming. A lifeguard came over to the edge of the pool and told the boy to stop.
“I didn’t think I would see you here,” Cherry said.
“Why not? I just locked the door and took off.”
“What about the business?”
“Nuts to it. Let the customers come back.”
“Couldn’t your wife have kept it open?”
“You don’t know my wife very well. There are two things she lives for and one of them isn’t work. As long as she has new clothes and lots of money she’s happy. So I give her both and keep her happy.”
Cherry didn’t know how he did it. She had heard him say that the car had cost almost seven thousand and this was undoubtedly more than his father had made in a year. And she had read in the real estate section of the newspaper that he had a forty-thousand-dollar-mortgage on his house. How did a man stretch his money so far?
“You sing at the café last night?” h
e asked.
“Yes, I did.”
She knew he was looking her over closely but she was used to that. When she had been working for him and had worn snug-fitting sweaters he had spent a lot of time at the front desk with her.
“When did you leave the café?” he questioned.
“As soon as I was finished.”
He leaned back and rested his weight on his elbows.
“Read the paper this morning?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then I can tell you something that you don’t know. The café and another place along the street were raided by the cops. They arrested two girls for indecent exposure.”
She thought of Millie and felt sorry for the girl.
“What will they do with them?” Cherry asked.
“Slap them on the wrists and kick them out of the city. The owners will be up on charges before the ABC board. They’d both better have good stories or they won’t be in business.”
“Too bad.”
“Well, they asked for it. You can’t put on the kind of show in public that you can in private. Somebody always opens his big mouth and the cops jump in with both feet.”
She was glad now that she hadn’t accepted Carl’s offer. Had she done so she would probably be in jail now and disgraced. But it also opened up another door for her. Carl would need new acts and he might take her back. The least she could do was go to see him.
“Thanks for telling me all this,” she said.
“Not at all.”
He didn’t stay with her long after that. He swam for a while, stopped to remind her that he would help her if he could, and left.
Cherry didn’t go into the water that afternoon. She put on her shorts and halter again, caught a cab and told the driver to take her to Mercer Street.
There were only a few people in the café and Carl was at the bar. He was drinking and it was obvious that he had been drinking for quite a while.
“Want me to tell you a sad story?” he asked as Cherry sat down.
“I heard.”
He told the bartender to bring her a double rye and ginger ale and lit a cigarette.
“The first night I step over the line they nail me,” he said. “But that’s the trouble with hiring a carney girl. She didn’t know when to stop and she took off everything. When the police came in she was walking around between the tables, letting the men touch her where they wanted to. It was pretty raw — I have to admit that.”
“Maybe you need a singer,” Cherry suggested.
“What I need is money to pay a fine — or another job if this place folds. Right now I wouldn’t give you two cents for my chances of being able to stay in business.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s plenty bad,” he nodded. “Once the official complaint is filed they’ll make me lock the doors. My best bet is to sell and sell fast.”
She had two more drinks with him, wished him luck and left the café.
Oscar was sitting on the porch, smoking his pipe, when she arrived home.
“You look hot,” he said.
“I am hot.”
“Joe was over for you.”
“Was he?”
“He said you were angry with him and he’s upset. He’s a good boy, Cherry. You shouldn’t fight with him.”
She made no comment and entered the house, going directly upstairs to her room. Joe could come to the house as often as he wanted; she would pay no attention to him. He had hurt her enough the night before.
She removed the shorts and halter, walked to the window and stood looking out. Joe, naked to the waist, was polishing his car in the driveway. She watched him, trying to remember all they had known together that had been good. She was still standing there when Rita came into the room.
“I cleaned your floor,” Rita said.
“Thanks.”
“You might be interested to know what I found under your bed.”
“Under my bed?”
Rita came across the room and extended one hand. Cherry almost died when she saw what it held.
“I don’t know how it got there,” Cherry managed to say.
“You must have brought it into the house.”
“If I did I don’t remember.”
“Don’t lie!”
“I’m not lying.”
Rita walked to the wastebasket and disposed of the evidence.
“I didn’t think that of Joe,” she said. “And I didn’t think it of you.” Her face was very white. “Or maybe I should have expected it of you. Maybe you’re like your mother.”
This was the first time Rita had mentioned Cherry’s mother in years.
“What about my mother?”
“She was seventeen when you were born.”
“I see.”
“And the man was married. Oscar and I wanted children but we couldn’t have any so we adopted you. I’ve prayed ever since that you would be different than she was.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Cherry came away from the window and searched through a dresser drawer for a bra.
“You haven’t?”
Cherry put on the bra and snapped it behind her.
“Who says anyone has touched me?” Cherry’s tone was antagonistic.
“I say so. I’m not a fool. I wasn’t born yesterday. A girl doesn’t run around prepared for no reason.”
Cherry found panties and stepped into them.
“I’ve tried to bring you up right,” Rita said, close to tears. “And so has Oscar. If I ever told him about this he would feel furious and miserable.”
Cherry took a dress from the closet and pulled it down over her head. This was an uncomfortable situation and she wanted it to end quickly.
“I won’t do it again,” Cherry said, zipping the dress.
“You better not,” Rita retorted.
“Every girl is entitled to one mistake.” Cherry was angry.
“I doubt if it is only one. I think this has been going on for a long time. Now that I think back I remember all the other boys you used to go out with. Men just couldn’t leave you alone. It must have been because you were easy.”
“Don’t you dare — ” Cherry was angry.
“And I don’t blame Joe. I blame you. He isn’t the kind who would touch you unless you gave your consent. It sort of tore me apart when I knew the truth. Your mother had bad blood and you must have inherited some of it.”
“Leave my mother out of this.”
“How can I? You weren’t the only baby she had. She had three more that I know of and she never married.”
“What was her name?”
“I won’t tell you. It wouldn’t do you any good to know who she is, anyway. She left Northtown a few years ago and I doubt if anybody has heard from her. For your information she was pregnant for a fifth time when she left.”
“And my father?”
“He died as the result of a fight. The city buried him. That’s all I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“Because it didn’t seem necessary. I thought you were a decent girl but now I know better. If you aren’t careful you’ll end up as bad as she was. And that would break our hearts.”
Cherry picked up a comb and ran it through her hair.
“I won’t,” Cherry said.
“Don’t. We love you but we couldn’t stand that.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I am worried. What am I to think? All this time I thought you had remained pure and now I find out you haven’t. If you made love with Joe you might have made love with the others. You’re just lucky that you didn’t get caught.”
Cherry turned around sharply and faced the older woman.
“Can’t we let it drop?”
There were tears in Rita’s eyes.
“Promise me you’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” she begged.
“I give you my word.”
“Even with Joe?”
&
nbsp; “Even with Joe.”
Cherry knew she could keep the second part of that promise. Joe would never touch her again. Of that she was certain.
Rita walked to the door.
“Supper is ready,” she said.
“I’m not hungry,” Cherry replied.
“You’ve been drinking. I can smell it.”
“Just a couple.”
“That’s another thing you should stop. Some night you’ll drink too much and you’ll be with the wrong man. You know what results that can have.”
Cherry sat down on the edge of the bed after Rita had gone. She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Suddenly she laughed. It was all so funny, so very funny. So both her mother and her father were no good.
And Rita was surprised about her, their daughter?
Chapter Four
MONDAY WAS a bad day for Cherry. To begin with, the downtown bus wasn’t on time — she was late her first day on the new job. And she wasn’t at work very long before Mrs. Perkins, the office manager, made it plain that she didn’t approve of pretty girls.
“Mr. Weber just looks at their legs,” she said. “Or their breasts. Are you a good typist, Miss Gordon?”
“I took it in high school.”
“Have you done any typing since then?”
“The job I had didn’t require very much.”
“Well, we’ll see if you stand up.”
Cherry was given a desk and a folder of form letters to copy.
“She’s a bitch,” one girl said when Mrs. Perkins was out of the room. “You either make a typewriter hum or you pick yourself up from the sidewalk in front of the building.”
The typewriter was electric, and Cherry had considerable trouble with it. She was on her fourth try at the first letter when Mrs. Perkins returned.
“How are you doing?”
“Not very well. It’s going to take me time to get used to this.”
“That’s too bad. We don’t have time for practice around here.”
“What about filing? I could do that.”
“We don’t have an opening and we don’t pay file clerks sixty dollars a week.”
She worked until noon but she knew that it was no good. She had been away from a typewriter too long and Mrs. Perkins was a slave driver.
“I can’t use you,” Mrs. Perkins said as Cherry was preparing to leave for lunch. “I suggest you get a job in a smaller office where they can be more patient. If Mr. Weber would leave the hiring up to me these things wouldn’t happen.”
