Widow, Virgin, Whore - A Novel

by Deanna Lynn Sletten

  ***

  Katherine stood at the kitchen sink washing the last of the evening dishes. She was exhausted. With Denise's help, the two had cleaned Darla's room so it would be ready when she came home. Now, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Katherine stared out the small, kitchen window into the night sky, contemplating all that had happened and all there was to come. Her thoughts made her feel weary.

  "Aunt Kathy?"

  Katherine jumped at the small voice behind her and spun to see Chelsea standing in the doorway. She released a heavy sigh of relief.

  "Sweetheart, you scared me. I thought everyone was in bed."

  "Sorry."

  "What's the matter, honey? Couldn't you sleep?"

  Chelsea shook her head. She looked so young in her oversized T-shirt, her long auburn hair mussed and tangled, and her blue eyes searching Katherine's for answers to questions not yet asked.

  Katherine pulled out a kitchen chair and sat on it heavily, patting the table beside her as an invitation for Chelsea to do the same. "Tell me what's bothering you, hon."

  "I was thinking about Mom," Chelsea said as she sat down. "Are you sure she'll be okay?"

  "The doctor said she would be, for now. He's going to change her medication so she'll feel better."

  The young girl nodded, looking up at Katherine with damp eyes. "I've been really mean to her, haven't I?"

  "You've been upset by everything that's happened. It made you angry. Your mom understands."

  Chelsea's tears spilled onto the table. "But what if she'd died tonight? I've been so mean to her just because she's sick. If she'd died...I...I..." her voice trailed off as the tears did the same down her cheeks.

  Katherine felt her tough resolve melt from the pressures of the past weeks. The emotional, physical, and mental strain of it all was wearing on her. And now, looking at this weeping child, it was almost more that she could bear. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to hold in her own tears.

  "Your mom didn't die, and she's going to pull through," Katherine said, trying hard not to let her voice waver. "When she comes home, you can tell her you didn't mean what you said."

  Chelsea nodded through her tears. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes with the tissue Katherine handed her. "I'm sorry I've been so mean, Aunt Kathy."

  Katherine reached over and rubbed her back. "I know, dear. I know. But it's your mom you have to say that to, not me. I know she acts like she doesn't care, but deep down she really does. You'll make her very happy if you tell her what you just told me."

  Chelsea nodded again.

  Katherine stood, placing her hands on the small of her back and stretching backward. The weight of the world was heavy, and she felt the full force of it tonight. "Let's go to bed," she said softly, placing her arm around Chelsea's shoulders as the two headed for the swinging door.

  ***

  When Darla came home two days later, Chelsea was the first one to welcome her back. She had rented two of her mom's favorite movies, and they sat together on Darla's bed all afternoon, watching them and eating popcorn. For once in her life, Darla had the good grace not to question the change in her daughter. She simply enjoyed it. But during one of the many times Katherine checked on Daral, she caught a look of appreciation in her eyes, a silent thank you for helping bring her daughter back to her.

  And Darla felt better. The change in her medication was a complete turnaround for her, allowing her to hold down food and regain her strength. With Chelsea's help, Darla dyed her hair blonde to cover the awful orange roots that had been growing out, and cut and styled it short.

  Two weeks after coming home from the hospital, Darla was ready to go back to work. She'd put on some weight again, and although her usually tight clothes fit loosely, she looked better than she had in weeks. The old smart-mouthed, gum-chomping, big-haired, and silver shoe Darla was back.

  Chapter Nine

  Katherine stood in front of Earl Reeves' paper strewn desk, waiting impatiently for him to hang up the phone. The teletype machine buzzed in one ear, announcing news over the AP, while the sound of unanswered phones ringing on other desks annoyed her other ear. But she didn't care about the noise. She was excited about the idea she had for a series of articles and just wanted Earl to get off the phone so she could talk to him.

  Earl dropped the phone in its cradle and lit a cigarette before acknowledging her presence. His steel gray eyes stared out at her from under bushy brows.

  "So, something big happen at the school board meeting?"

  Katherine ignored his condescending tone. "I have an idea for a series of articles I thought might interest you."

  Earl leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "What about?"

  Katherine's stomach felt like jelly but she stood ramrod straight and looked him in the eyes. "AIDS."

  "AIDS?"

  "Yes, AIDS. I've been researching this subject a lot and found a variety of resources available in the Seattle area that I think might interest our readers. There's some great work being done here."

  "AIDS?" Earl repeated, creasing his brow. He looked at her as if she'd suggested writing about strip joints as he flicked ashes into the full ash tray on his desk. "No one around here wants to read about AIDS."

  Katherine set her jaw. "How do you know that, Earl? You've never done anything on it before. There's a lot of good work being done to fight AIDS right here in our own community. Why, there's even a group in the Puget Sound area that raises thousands of dollars each year for AIDS patients and programs."

  "Our readers want to read about the local pet show and the new sewer system. They're not interested in a worn out subject like AIDS."

  Katherine blinked, shocked by his words. "Worn out? Why, we haven't even scratched the surface. Do you know that in our state last year the number of AIDS patients rose seventy-six percent? Washington State cut funding to AIDS programs because they couldn't keep up with the rising numbers. That makes it even more important to let people in our area know about the local resources and funds available to them."

  "Leave that stuff for The Times. We only report local stories."

  Katherine stared in disbelief at Earl's dispassionate face. He hadn't cared about one word she'd said.

  "Earl, AIDS is a local story," she said quietly. "We have several local people who are infected."

  Earl stubbed out his cigarette, pushing a puff of ashes onto his desk. "They'll have to get their information from somewhere else. The readers of the Journal don't want to read about AIDS."

  She stared at him coldly for one long minute, but he didn't waiver.

  "Got anything else?" he demanded.

  She shook her head and turned to leave.

  "Well, keep trying Kathy. You'll come up with something good eventually."

  The words hit her back but she didn't let them attack her. She stopped for only a brief second, squared her shoulders, then continued out of the office before her temper could strike.

  ***

  Darla stood by a rack of suits carefully folding a pair of slacks over a hanger. It was five o'clock on a Friday night and she was picking up the stray pieces of clothing left strewn around the wardrobe room.

  "God, I hate this job," she muttered to herself as she hung up a vagrant tie. "I don't pick up my own clothes at home. Why should I pick up after these assholes?" She'd been back at work for two weeks doing the new job they'd assigned her, Wardrobe Assistant, and she hated it. Because the station had hired a new hair and makeup person while she was gone, Allen, the station manager, told her she could no longer have her old job. So, he'd assigned her to wardrobe until something else came up. Since she needed the health insurance her job provided, she had no choice but to stay on.

  As she finished picking up the last of the clothes, she saw Carcia and a couple of other women from the office walk past the door, giggling.

  "Hey, are you girls going out tonight?" Darla called after them.

  Carcia stopped and
peered in the door. "Oh, hi Darla," she said without enthusiasm. "What's up?"

  "That's what I'm asking. Are you going out? I know I could use a night out after a day like this."

  Carcia glanced nervously between Darla and the other women down the hall. "Well, yeah, we are going out for a while," she said hesitantly.

  "Great!" Darla grabbed her jacket off the coat rack, switched off the light, and stomped out into the hall in her silver heels. "You don't know how much I need a night out," she said, unaware of the looks that passed between the other women.

  "Are you sure you feel up to going out?" Carcia asked as they reached the door.

  "Sure. I've been feeling a lot better lately. Where are we going? Want to take my car?"

  "No," Carcia said quickly, making Darla glance up in surprise. Carcia caught herself and changed her tone. "We all have our own cars. We'll meet you over at The Bait House."

  Darla gave her a curious look but agreed, and took off in her car. When she arrived fifteen minutes later, she saw Carcia and the other women already seated at a table with two men that she knew. She sauntered over to the table and pulled up a chair.

  "Well, lookie here, Darla's back," a man named Tom announced as she sat. "Where have you been, Darla? It's been a while."

  Darla pulled out a cigarette from her purse and leaned closer to Tom. "Well, hi yourself, Tom. Got a light for a lady?" He snapped the flame of his lighter for her and she leaned closer to touch the tip of her cigarette to it. She smiled appreciatively at him, allowing her eyes to scan him. He was a looker, good body and nice face. Tom was one of the few men she knew who she hadn't slept with, and she regretted this fact now that she knew she never could.

  Tom's eyes were doing some scanning of their own. "Looks like you've lost some weight there, woman," he said, his eyes flickering to her once ample breasts, now smaller and hiding inside a black, lamb's wool sweater. "Have you been sick?"

  Neither of them noticed the hush in the voices at their table.

  "Yeah, but I'm feeling better now," Darla said hurriedly.

  "How about a drink? Gin and tonic, right?"

  Darla looked longingly at the bar and sighed. "No, just a Coke for me. I'm still on medication. It doesn't mix with booze." Tom nodded and headed to get the drinks.

  Despite her self-imposed prohibition and the cold attitude of her friends, Darla was having fun for the first time in months. She danced with Tom to music she chose from the juke box, and flirted relentlessly with him. At nine, when the Jazz band began playing, she and Tom danced closer. It felt good to cozy up beside a man, even though she knew that this was as far as she could go. But she let herself be taken in with the music and atmosphere, soaking it up like the others were soaking up the liquor.

  She ate a few pretzels from the bar and was careful to take her medicine on time. As she popped the pills, she thought that life with AIDS wouldn't be so bad if she could still enjoy nights out like this, even without the booze and sex.

  Darla was standing by the bar, overheated from her last dance, waiting for a fresh drink, when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

  "There you are, you bitch!"

  Darla spun around to stare into the bloodshot eyes of one of her former boyfriends.

  "Joey. Hey, what's up?"

  "Obviously you, from the grave," he said in a slurred voice. "You should be in hell by now." His fingers dug into her shoulder and she shrugged out of their grasp.

  "What's wrong with you? You're acting like a jerk."

  "What's wrong with me? Ha! That's a good one. It's you that has something wrong with her."

  Darla pushed away from the bar, angry now. "Get away from me, Joe. You're drunk."

  "Yeah, well too bad you didn't tell me to get away from you months ago," Joey sneered.

  From across the room, Tom noticed the scene at the bar and came up behind Darla. "Is everything okay here, Darla?" Tom asked from behind her as he narrowed his eyes at Joey.

  "No, everything is not okay here," Joey answered. "At least not with her. Better watch out, lover boy. Getting too close to her could be deadly."

  Tom made a move toward Joey but Darla put her arm out to stop him.

  Joey pushed his face only inches from Darla's, oblivious to the threatening look in Tom's eyes. The alcohol on his breath burned her eyes. "It's bad enough that you probably gave it to me, but the least you could have done was tell me yourself. I had to find out from someone else that you have AIDS."

  Hearing this, Tom backed up a step, staring accusingly at Darla. She stood between the two men, speechless. Tom, who only moments before couldn't keep his hands off of her, was backing away from her like she'd grown snakes in her hair. Joey glared at her, hatred in his eyes.

  She fumbled for words. "Joey, when we were together, I didn't know I had AIDS. I don't even know if I had it then." She looked at his searing eyes and her own burned back with rage. "For all I know, you could have given AIDS to me," she shot at him.

  Joey actually growled deep in his throat. He sounded like a wild animal, and Darla suddenly grew afraid of him.

  "I find out tomorrow if I've got it or not. You better hope the answer is no." He turned and strode off unsteadily.

  Darla sighed with relief but as she turned toward the table, she saw Tom and the others staring at her strangely. With as much dignity as she could muster, she stepped over to the table, grabbed her coat and purse, and left the bar.

  ***

  Katherine was sitting at the table in the semi-dark kitchen drinking hot chocolate when Darla came quietly through the back door.

  "You waiting up for me?" Darla asked, annoyed.

  Katherine shook her head. "Couldn't sleep."

  Darla nodded, threw her coat over a chair, and plopped herself into another. She slipped off her heels and rubbed her feet.

  "Go out tonight?"

  "Yeah. Not quite the same when you can't drink."

  "Did you take your medicine?"

  Darla flicked her eyes at her. "Yes, Mother, I did."

  "Sorry. Force of habit."

  Darla only nodded, conceding the fact.

  "Want some hot chocolate?"

  "No thanks." Darla stood and went to the cupboard, taking out a box of crackers before returning to her seat.

  "Denise asleep already?" she asked as she placed a cracker in her mouth.

  "She's out with Gary still."

  "Oh. Well, at least one of us is having fun."

  Katherine stared at Darla over her mug. She looked worn and agitated. "Something happen tonight?"

  Darla shrugged as if it were no big deal but her downcast eyes told a different story. "I ran into Joey tonight. Somehow, he knew about my having AIDS."

  "What happened?"

  "What do ya think? He was really pissed off." Darla grabbed another cracker and popped it into her mouth. Her hand was shaking.

  "What did he say?"

  "He said he finds out tomorrow if he has it or not. He also said I should have told him myself."

  "Hmmm." Katherine took another sip from her mug. "What do you think?"

  Darla's face scrunched in annoyance. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I guess I should have told him." She stared at the box of crackers. "Shit, if I told every guy I've known over the past ten years, it would be a full-time job."

  Katherine muffled a laugh behind her hand, knowing how inappropriate it was, yet unable to stop. Darla gave her a wry look, but her comment had made her smile, too.

  "Okay, you be my conscience, Jiminy Cricket. What do you think I should have done?"

  "Being your conscience would be a full-time job. I don't think I'm up to it, thank you." Katherine reached for the box of crackers between them, took one, then slid the box back to Darla.

  "Tell me anyway," Darla said quietly.

  Katherine sighed. "I suppose you should at least tell the guys you've known over the past couple of years. They have a right to know, don't you think?"

  "It hardly seems fa
ir. I could have gotten AIDS from one of them, yet I'll be the shit for telling them." Darla looked up at Katherine, who simply stared back at her across the table. "Yeah, yeah, I know, 'Let your conscience be your guide'. Life sucks."

  Katherine continued to sit quietly by while Darla wrestled with her inner cricket.

  ***

  The glow of the amber flames inside the fireplace flickered upon the forms of Denise and Gary as their heated bodies formed into one on the sofa. Their lips were crushed, tongues dancing within, arms entwined, their bodies molded together in sweet passion. Gary's hand moved slowly over the smooth skin of her back, exploring the arch of her spine, and ever so gently moving its way around the curve of her waist toward her full breasts. As their lips continued to melt into each other, he slipped his hand into her loosened bra, moaning as he felt the soft flesh within. At his intimate touch, Denise tensed involuntarily, and he quickly pulled his hand out of her sweater and backed away from her on the sofa.

  "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I shouldn't have done that."

  "No, Gary, it's okay. Please." She reached for him but he was already on his feet heading toward the patio door. He ran his hand through his jet black hair as he stood staring out the glass at the moonlit sky. Reflected in the glass, she could see the tense muscles in his face.

  "Gary," she offered again, but he only sighed and ran his fingers through his hair once more. Denise sighed too, regretting her reaction that caused him to move away, wishing she could run across the room and crush her body against his again. Instead, she sat on the sofa, waiting.

  "It's late," Gary finally said. "I should take you home." He turned and stared at her from across the room. His face looked tired, strained.

  Denise dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry."

  "You didn't do anything wrong, Denise," he said gently.

  She raised her eyes to him. "I don't mean to tense up. It's just...a reaction."

  Gary stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and stepped gingerly toward her. "It's not your fault, it's mine. I've been pushing too fast, and I need to slow down." He stood right above her now, placing the back of his hand gently on her face, caressing her cheek. "It's just that you're so beautiful, and I care about you so much, it's hard to control myself."