Fast Girls

by Elise Hooper

  “Well, why are we stuck up here when everyone else is downstairs?”

  THE NEXT DAY, aboard the train, Louise and Tidye lay in their berths, subdued, but relieved to be leaving the humiliation of the Brown Palace Hotel behind. From her upper bunk, Louise flipped the pages of a Photoplay. The experience at the hotel had left her with a tense stomachache, but the constant swaying of their train eventually lulled her into a sense of lethargy until a screech from Tidye’s bunk pierced the quiet. Startled, Louise shimmied to the side of her own bed and peered over the edge, where she came almost eye-to-eye with Babe. A smug grin split across the blond woman’s angular features. Tidye sprang from her bunk, her clothes dripping with water as Babe tucked a silver pitcher, the kind the waiters in the dining car carried, under her arm.

  “Why on earth did you do that?” Tidye shrieked.

  Babe guffawed and leaned over and smacked her thighs. “Lordy, I wish you could see your face right now.”

  Outraged, Tidye pulled her soaked dress from her chest and stared at the drips of water pooling underneath her feet. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Drawn to the commotion, Mary and a couple of other women appeared in the berth, circling around Babe and Tidye with grim expressions.

  “What?” Babe surveyed the group. “It was a joke. Y’all have no sense of fun. I was just trying to liven things up.”

  “I suppose it’s no accident that I’m the one you picked for your stupid joke.” Tidye was practically spitting in fury.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I mean.” Tidye poked a finger straight at Babe and the Texan took a step backward.

  “Sheesh, I thought I was doing you a favor. It’s blazing hot. Figured you’d appreciate cooling down.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t appreciate it at all. Keep away from me, you hear? I don’t want any more of your jokes or favors. Nothing, got it?”

  “Spoilsport. Can’t we have a little fun around here?” Babe huffed.

  The other women averted their gazes and shuffled from the compartment. Only Mary stayed behind and helped Tidye step out of her wet dress.

  “How can you stand to room with her?” Tidye fumed.

  Mary bit her lip. “No one else would, and I felt bad for her.”

  “You think I should feel sorry for her too?”

  “No, of course not.” Mary lowered her gaze and shifted her weight from side to side. “Sorry,” she mumbled before handing the dress to Louise and hurrying from their berth.

  With hands trembling in outrage, Louise snapped the wet dress to shake out the water. She would have hoped, even expected, her teammates to scold Babe or at least say something, but the girls who had convened to see what had happened seemed cowed by the Texan. She sighed. In her annoyance, Louise thrust the dress onto a hook with such force that she heard a small ripping sound come from its waistband.

  Sheepish, she turned to Tidye, who stood in her slip, her arms folded across her chest. “Oh, that dress is the least of my concerns. But it sure is starting to feel like you and I are on a different team from the rest of ’em, huh?”

  24.

  July 1932

  Oak Forest Infirmary, Illinois

  BETTY AWOKE TO FIND A NURSE HOVERING OVER HER, A woman she didn’t recognize. The nurse raised a thermometer and Betty opened her mouth reflexively to receive it. After a minute or so, the nurse plucked the thermometer from Betty’s mouth and inspected it, smiling. “No fever. No sign of infection. Today’s going to be a good day. I can feel it.”

  Mrs. Robinson leaned forward from where she sat by Betty’s side. “I agree,” she said, cocking her head at Betty to check for her reaction.

  Betty coughed. What made today any different from the other days? Her hours of wakefulness stretched into a long tunnel of uncertainty. Her mother read books to her, but Betty couldn’t remember what they were. Her father updated her on the newspapers, but none of it stuck with her. Both of her legs were encased in plaster casts from the tips of her toes to the tops of her thighs, while her left arm, also in a plaster cast from her hand to her shoulder, dangled from the ceiling in an elaborate traction system of pulleys and cords. Her life had gone from one of promise to one of pain and doubt. She’d been trying to ignore her worries, lose herself in the haze of medicine that had kept her in a fog, but she knew she needed some answers. “What’s the date? How long have I been here?”

  The nurse and her mother looked at each other for a moment before the nurse looked back at Betty and said, “You’ve been here for almost a month.”

  It was like a blow to the chest. That long? Minutes, hours, days, daytime, nighttime—everything had become a blur, impossible to measure.

  Her mother clasped Betty’s hand. “The nurse told me that she can help you with a bath and then we could do your hair. You know who would like to come and see you?”

  Betty shook her head.

  Her mother glanced at the lines of cards filling the two windowsills and swallowed. “Bill calls every day to ask about you.” Betty’s stomach gave a sickening lurch, and she turned to look at the vase of daisies on the bedside table; her mother followed her gaze. “He sent those. Aren’t they lovely? Just think, we can get you all fixed up and you can see him.”

  The white petals glowed in the indigo shadows of the morning light.

  Bill.

  Kind, funny, smart, and talented Bill.

  Betty scratched at one of the plaster casts entombing her leg. She didn’t remember much from the day of the plane crash, but she did remember Bill proposing. It was the last memory she had. Now that she was injured, what would he make of her? Her mother had not called him Betty’s fiancé. Had he not told anyone about the proposal? Did he still want to marry her?

  “You’re looking so much better. Do you feel better? Don’t you want to see Bill?”

  Did she? From within her cast, Betty’s knee began to itch. Everything ached and ached, but she felt the weight of her mother’s hopefulness more than anything. “Yes, of course, I can’t wait to see him.”

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, she settled into the crisp, fresh sheets on her hospital bed, wearing a pink cotton nightgown instead of her flimsy striped hospital gown. No matter how many lavender sachets her mother sprinkled in the room, the smell of laundry bleach lingered, even over the lily-of-the-valley-scented-shampoo smell of her hair. Her hospital room was finally quiet and empty. After weeks of constantly being surrounded by nurses and her parents, solitude came as a relief. It was like she was a marionette and someone had let go of the strings. She could finally relax.

  Her vision swam with tears and she let out a sob. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how hard she had been working to appear cheerful and patient. Not only was her body immobilized, but she could scarcely allow her true feelings to stretch out and reveal themselves for fear of upsetting her parents or disappointing the staff working so hard to make her comfortable. What in the world was going to happen to her? She felt ruined. She wept with a ferocity that frightened her, but gradually her sobs subsided, leaving her raw but relieved and emptied of a weight that had been jammed deep in her throat and chest for weeks.

  There was a knock at the door and her mother pushed her head inside the room. “Betty, Bill’s here. Are you ready?”

  Betty inhaled deeply and hoped her face didn’t look blotchy from crying.

  “Betty!” Bill called as he entered the room. Her mother withdrew to leave the two of them alone, and Betty felt a surprising shyness and almost wished her mother would stay. Bill’s skin shined with good health and summer color, and when he reached the side of her bed and leaned over to embrace her, she could smell the outdoors on him. A tinge of perspiration and the sun-warmed cotton of his shirt. Here in the bland sterility of the hospital, he felt like a strange outlier with his broad chest and glowing health. “Geez, Betty, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  She gasped
.

  “Oh no, did I hurt you?”

  “No, actually you didn’t. Your strong grip just surprised me. Everyone handles me like I’m fragile and might break.”

  He dropped into the chair and leaned forward, elbows set gamely on his knees. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.” As she said the words aloud, she meant them. She searched his face and he glanced away.

  “Say, this place isn’t too bad. The staff seem mighty proud to be taking care of you. How are you feeling?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. Should she tell him how she dreamed of hurtling through the air every night? How she awoke sometimes in a cold sweat, only to find herself trapped in these wretched plaster casts? Should she tell him about the moans that emanated from the other rooms at night and how they scared her? Should she ask if he still wanted to marry her? Had anyone told Bill that she might not walk properly again? All these questions stretched between them like a gaping chasm that she didn’t know how to cross.

  “Everything feels different.”

  Bill frowned. “I know.”

  Betty decided there was no more postponing the inevitable. “One of the last things I remember from before the crash is that you proposed to me, and I want you to know that I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Betty, my feelings for you haven’t changed at all.”

  “But everything’s changed. My recovery’s going to be slow. They don’t know if I’ll walk again.”

  “The wedding can wait. Sure, you’re a little dinged up, but you’re the same girl. I’ll wait for you.”

  Betty winced. She would never be the same girl who had gone up in that plane. She had changed in ways she didn’t fully understand and couldn’t explain. It was just like Bill to want to be a hero, but did he understand what he was committing to? Did either of them?

  “Your doctor said I could only stay for a couple of minutes.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate to leave you.”

  “I understand. Thank you for coming.”

  “Should I come back tomorrow after work?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He smiled tenderly, bending over to take her free hand. “May I kiss you?”

  She nodded, feeling her throat tighten. He bent deeper, and when he kissed her, no amount of morphine could dull the surge of awakening she felt within the plaster covering her body. She longed to be free of her confinement, free to reach around his shoulders with both hands and feel his chest against hers. He pulled back. “You’re so brave. I’m proud that you’re my girl.”

  She suddenly felt exhausted. How could she tell him that she didn’t feel a single ounce of bravery?

  25.

  July 1932

  Los Angeles

  BLUE SKIES. ORANGE TREE GROVES. ENDLESS SUNSHINE. Louise had never seen anything like Los Angeles. It felt magical with its elegant lines of palm trees edging the wide boulevards and the air’s sweet and salty mixture of hibiscus and ocean. The men were ferried out to the Olympic Village in an area called Baldwin Hills, where bungalows had been hastily thrown up to accommodate them. The women were given rooms at the Chapman Park Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard, a busy spot central to all the excitement.

  “Miss Stokes, I’ve got some mail for you,” the hotel’s front desk clerk said, rummaging around under the check-in counter.

  Louise grinned and took the small stack of envelopes from the young woman and held them to her chest with delight. Everything about California was wonderful, including the lovely welcome they were receiving at the hotel. It was a far cry from the disappointing accommodations and poor treatment they’d encountered in Denver.

  Around her, the other girls clutched their mail, shrieking with joy, but Mary walked away from the front desk empty-handed. As much as Louise had felt annoyed by her ever since the incident with Babe on the train, Mary’s forlorn expression now made Louise feel a pang of sympathy.

  “After you’ve settled in, do you want to join Caroline, Tidye, and me to visit the salon around the corner? It’s offering free haircuts for Olympians,” she asked Mary as she headed to the elevator.

  “Sure, that would be fun. Thanks.” She eyed Louise’s letters hungrily. “You got something from your folks?”

  Louise nodded, unsure what to say, but Mary, brightened with the invitation to the salon, didn’t seem to notice.

  “That’s nice. I live with my aunt and uncle and they have a bunch of their own kids and probably don’t have time to write. They’re always busy.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get something in the next few days.”

  “Maybe,” Mary said, trying to look like she believed it. “Find me when you’re ready to go?”

  “Of course.”

  The busy hive of the Chapman Park Hotel and the nearby salon kept the Olympians occupied when they weren’t training. All the girls had their hair done, and Caroline even had her eyebrows plucked. Howard finally rumbled into Los Angeles in his dusty jalopy, and Caroline, Louise, and Tidye had dinner with him each night, eager to tell him about the beautiful training facilities over at the stately campus of the University of Southern California, where they spent their mornings.

  The morning of the Opening Ceremonies dawned with more perfect weather, and the women were abuzz with excitement, but the energy shifted when they received their uniforms in the team captain’s room. When Mary held hers up, the top almost hung midway down her thighs.

  “How are you supposed to compete in that?” Caroline cried. She lifted the shorts in her bundle. “Why, look at the width on this waistband! Three of us could fit into this.”

  Their chaperone took one look at Caroline and Mary and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh heavens, they’ve given you the same uniforms the men are getting. Sit tight while I call the hotel’s seamstress.”

  “It’s almost like they don’t even want us girls here,” Caroline fumed. “Couldn’t they prepare proper uniforms for us?”

  After a few minutes, the seamstress arrived and the women swarmed her, asking for waistbands to be taken in, armholes cinched, and tops hemmed. After an hour most of the women had left to prepare for practice with their tailored uniforms in hand, but Louise and Tidye noticed their shorts and tops kept being put aside even though they had been among the first to speak with the seamstress.

  “We’re running out of time,” Louise whispered to Tidye, pointing to a clock hanging on the wall. “Do you think she’s forgotten about us?”

  Tidye frowned and shot Louise an impatient look. “No, I think we’re the lowest on her priority list, and I think I know why.”

  Louise felt the same wave of stomachache that she had experienced in the Brown Palace Hotel. “Let’s leave. I’m not great with sewing, but if we take our uniforms now, I can make the adjustments in our room. My mother made sure I brought a sewing kit with me for emergencies.”

  Tidye nodded and grabbed their uniforms, shooting the seamstress a dirty look on her way out the door.

  Louise pressed down her frustration and got to work. She hemmed their shorts by cutting them and stitched the shoulder seams to make the armholes smaller, but still, the uniforms didn’t fit properly. When she ran a warm-up lap around the track later that morning, she slowed to roll up the waistband of her shorts to make them a bit shorter.

  Tidye slowed alongside her. “Look! Who’s she?” she whispered, pointing to a young woman in track clothes approaching Coach Vreeland. They completed their warm-up lap and returned to where their coach awaited them with the new woman by his side.

  “Ladies, remember Eve Furtsch from Chicago?” Coach Vreeland asked. Eve beamed at the group, adjusting the red bow in her hair. “She’s joining the pool of sprinters available for the relay. So, now that you’ve all warmed up, we’re going to work on starts. Line up into groups of four over on that line.” When he finished speaking, the women headed toward where he’d toed positioning marks into the cinder.

  Tidye whispered, “Isn’
t she the girl who fell at the finish of my semifinal heat back in Chicago? She was eliminated and didn’t even race in the finals.”

  “What’s she doing here?” Louise shot back. “Why do they keep adding more and more women to the relay reserve?”

  Tidye’s brows knitted together. “Apparently she must know someone important. I don’t like this at all.”

  Louise took her spot in one of the lines of women and then crouched into starting position when it was her turn, but her mind was spinning. What exactly were the coaches doing?

  IN THE EVENING, when Louise returned from dinner with her teammates, exhausted from the thrill of parading into the Coliseum and watching the fanfare of the Opening Ceremonies, she perked up to find a surprise waiting for her in the hotel’s lobby. Uncle Freddie. Louise ran to him and he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Something had changed in him since he’d arrived in California. Louise tilted her head, taking in the glow of his skin. “Life in the West agrees with you.”

  “It sure does. Your mama sent me a letter telling me you were on your way to Chicago, so I started following the newspapers, trying to figure out if you had made it onto the team. Sure enough, the Los Angeles Times ran an article listing you as a member of the relay team, and I started making plans to see you. How were the Opening Ceremonies?”

  “Thrilling! When we marched into the stadium surrounded by cheering fans, I got goose pimples. I’ve never felt anything like it. To be here representing our country is amazing. It’s an honor that words can’t even begin to describe. A few unfortunate things have happened, but today’s ceremony made all of that fade away.”

  “Unfortunate? What do you mean?”

  The troubled expression on Uncle Freddie’s face made Louise wish she hadn’t brought the subject up, and she didn’t even know where to start with an explanation. The constant adding of girls to the relay pool? The Brown Palace Hotel? The uniforms? No, she didn’t want to focus on any of that—the important thing was to look ahead. “Oh, nothing worth dwelling on. I need to focus on running my best now. I’m so happy you encouraged me to pursue this, and I’m even happier to see you here,” she said as they walked into the garden and took one of the paths to lead them through the white stucco bungalows surrounding the hotel. “So what are you doing in Los Angeles now?”