The Chocolate Money

by Ashley Prentice Norton

  “Wait,” he says. “Let me get a condom.”

  I don’t want to lose the momentum, so I say, “Just pull out and come on my stomach.”

  A condom makes me think of Jake, whose facility with the application seems only to accentuate all his experiences with girls other than me, his facility with sex itself.

  Cape’s breathing so heavily now, he’s really in no position to argue about skipping the condom. “Okay,” he says between ragged breaths. Only two minutes into it and already he is about to smash. Then there’s a knock at the door.

  “Shit, Lowell,” Cape says, though he’s almost past talking.

  “Wait!” I call out.

  I feel Cape wither inside me, the moment broken. He rolls over and pulls the bedspread up to our chins. I want to cry because Cape didn’t finish, smash inside me, and also laugh because I know Lowell will give us both a hard time about this. There’s no hiding what we have been up to.

  There’s the sound of a key in the door, and I hear a deep voice say, “I am keying in now.” Faculty members are required to say this when opening a locked door, but they never give you time to cease whatever illegal activity you’re engaged in.

  The door opens and it’s Mr. Carlson. Cape’s dorm head.

  “Shit,” Cape says, barely recovered from our romp. We both understand at once that we are in big, big trouble.

  22. Busted

  October 1983

  MR. CARLSON WAITS OUTSIDE in the hallway while I get dressed, which I am grateful for. I’ve heard stories of teachers who stand and watch while you put your clothes on. I pull on my shift and pumps. While Cape hunts for his PJ bottoms, I surreptitiously grab the pennies from the top of the trunk.

  Mr. Carlson says nothing as I follow him down the steps of Wentington and back to Bright.

  He rings the bell when we arrive. I had hoped he had the keys and that I could walk unnoticed to my room. But no. Part of my punishment consists of facing Deeds at this ungodly hour of two A.M. She arrives quickly and lets us in. Her room is on the first floor. She is wearing boxers with DARTMOUTH printed on them and an oversize green T-shirt.

  She sees me with Carlson, but given how late it is, it takes her a couple of minutes to wake up and understand what has happened. Carlson waits a bit, then says, “I found Bettina in one of my boys’ rooms having sex.” He then gives me a little shove.

  “Thanks, Mike,” Deeds says, and she takes me by the upper arm. Uses more force than is necessary. I wonder if she regrets not reporting me for smoking in the bathroom the day I arrived. We head into the house.

  “Bettina,” she says, in a cold voice, “this is a big deal. Until the faculty disciplinary committee meets in a few days, you are on probation.” She walks me upstairs to my room. I know I’m no longer a Cardiss student in good standing. I am in a liminal space—somewhere between being kicked out and being reinstated. I am worried but still in the positive fog of having slept with Cape.

  Once inside my room, I take off my dress and pumps and leave them in a pile by my bed. There will be no visit to the crater with Jake. I wonder if he’ll be mad and stop speaking to me or won’t really care. Either way, I know things between us are over. I have unequivocally broken our contract.

  I change into the Cardiss T-shirt I sleep in. Lying in bed, I review the evening and all its implications. Cape and I might get kicked out, but Meredith will be punished in a way too. I imagine her sleeping soundly now, no idea that I have not only ruined her evening at the Cardiss dance but also fucked her virgin boyfriend. Will she forgive him? I doubt it, especially since he was found with me, someone who’s not even in her league. I start to dread breakfast. I should be the one to tell her, but I’m not sure I am up for it.

  I wait until it’s light enough to go out for a smoke. I know this is probably a bad idea but what the hell.

  23. Admission

  October 1983

  I COME BACK TO THE dorm around seven, having smoked almost half a pack. I thought the girls would’ve gone to breakfast, but I can still hear their voices in Meredith’s room. They hear my Converse sneakers in the hallway and yell for me to come in.

  “Bettina,” Meredith calls. “Come here. I have something to show you. While you were out, we had a little party to practice getting ready. Sometimes you just have to bend the rules in search of a higher good. I think we can skip breakfast today, no?”

  I wonder what she will think of my “higher good.”

  “Check it out,” she continues.

  Meredith is dressed but her feet are bare. She spreads her toes, and I see they are painted perfectly white with a maroon C on each big toe.

  “What do you think? It’s a surprise for Cape. We might just hit the shower.” They are beautiful, and under any other circumstances, I would have said so. Before coming in here, I decided that Cape would have to deliver the bad news, but now I know I have to. I can’t stand here and let her go on like this.

  “Meredith, I have some bad news. Can you close the door?”

  She looks nonplussed, but does as I ask.

  “You might want to smoke,” I say, bizarrely trying to be helpful when I am the one who’s wronged her. I sit down on the bed.

  “No, thanks. You know how much Cape hates smoking.”

  “Um, there is not going to be a dance.”

  “What do you mean? Did they call it off?”

  “No, but . . .” This is going to be harder than I thought. Holly and Jess are staring at me, waiting to hear more and undoubtedly wondering what would happen to the pretty dresses in the closet.

  “Well, um . . .” I am stuck.

  “Just spit it out, Bettina. You’re starting to annoy me.” This is pure Meredith and gives me the confidence to tell her. Take her down with me. Maybe even draw blood.

  “Last night, I got caught in Cape’s room and we’re both are on probation. We can’t go to the—”

  “I fucking know what probation is. What the hell were you doing in his room anyway? A bit of stalking?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then, what? I know you’ve always had a crush on him by the way you stare at him in the dining hall. He must be horrified by the whole situation.”

  Bring it on, I think.

  “Well, if you must know, Cape invited me.”

  Despite my bravado, I know I’m wandering into dangerous territory. I should be sucking up to Meredith since she is on the student judiciary committee. Now she won’t be lenient. Will crucify me.

  “He invited you?” Meredith asks, then pauses. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

  “I have the pennies to prove it.”

  “What pennies?”

  “From his shoes.” I had slept with them curled up in my hand and had even taken them to the boathouse that morning. I continue:

  “They were his father’s and he gave them to me so I would trust him.”

  “Ha!” Meredith says, desperately searching for another scenario to explain them. “You probably went in and stole them, he walked in, and that’s when you got caught.” But this seems improbable, even to Meredith. I can see her looking at her toes, wishing perhaps that she could put the big ones in her mouth and gnaw off the Cs.

  “Why would he have wanted you to trust him?”

  Here was the point of no return.

  “Because,” I say slowly, “he wanted to have sex with me.”

  “And did he?” Meredith can’t stop herself from asking about the details.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Why would he sleep with you? You aren’t even pretty. You must have ambushed him. You pathetic little slut.”

  “Well, I just wanted to give you the heads-up so you’ll be prepared when you hear people talking about it on campus.”

  “Get out of here, you freak.” If Meredith were given to easy crying, this would be the breaking point.

  I get up to go. Meredith hurls her math book in my direction. It narrowly misses my head.

  I have one more confessio
n to make in the next week. I hope it will go better than this one.

  24. That Day

  October 1983

  I FEEL SOME RELIEF at having told Meredith about that night myself. She probably pictures it as being an awkward encounter. Clothes on, my dress wrinkled. A few kisses and a quick in-and-out. Which it pretty much was. Maybe she will forgive me in time.

  I go to breakfast without the other girls, who stick to their guns about skipping it. It will take them a long time to parse and digest what I told them. But I don’t have the luxury of breaking any more rules, given my status. I have no appetite after what has just happened and dread walking into dining hall alone.

  I grab some coffee and check out my seating options. Cape is there, sitting with Lowell and some other boys from Wentington. He seems a bit subdued but still looks at ease as he eats his waffles and drinks his OJ. I don’t dare sit with him. All the students are watching us. Then I see Jake, sitting by himself with the New York Times, as usual. Maybe he doesn’t know yet. Or if he does, maybe we should officially break off our arrangement. Not sure how this works.

  “Hey, Jake,” I say tentatively.

  “Sit,” he says. I am relieved to hear no trace of bitterness in his voice.

  “I missed you at the boathouse today,” I venture. So far, so good. “It was a beautiful morning.”

  “Listen, Bettina, I prefer honesty to all your cheerful banter.” Now his voice has a bite to it.

  “So,” I say softly. “I guess you have heard.”

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I was caught in Cape’s room last night and am going up for action.”

  The irony is not lost on me; I will be going up for action for having gone up for action.

  “And . . . you were . . .” Jake continues.

  “Having sex.”

  “I can’t believe you would have sex with a pussy like Cape.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I say, taking a sip from my coffee. “We have . . . a history.”

  “Whatever,” he replies, now sounding bored.

  I’m almost bummed there is no big confrontation. “Can I sit here and finish my coffee?”

  “Sure. Knock yourself out.” He takes his paper, grabs his tray, and leaves.

  I am now sitting alone at a table, as he always is, but I don’t have the confidence to pull it off.

  Around six clock, I sit on my bed. Can feel the shift in the air as girls all over campus get ready for the dance.

  I watch as Holly blow-dries her hair, applies eye shadow—a snow-cone blue like Stacey used to wear—and dons her pouffy dress. Of course she is on Team Meredith, so she does not so much as acknowledge me. I leave our room to go to the bathroom. As I walk down the hall I pass Meredith and Jess’s room, and I am surprised to see that Meredith is getting ready. I am tempted to go in and remind Meredith that Cape is not coming, but surely she must know this.

  When I return, Holly’s gone, presumably to the living room downstairs so Ned will not have to call up for her.

  Just then, I hear a familiar voice yell, “Hey, Meredith, you ready?” Lowell. She shouts back, “Coming, darling!”

  Lowell? How did Meredith pull this off? Surely he must have had another date, must have asked another girl. But now he is showing up at Bright to collect Meredith like he is the next song on a mix tape. Maybe Cape begged him to do it, or maybe Lowell was attracted to her all along. Maybe he was just nice to me because I was in her dorm. But he’s a hot boy like Cape, and Meredith will not suffer much for my having slept with Cape; I have not ruined her evening.

  When they’re all gone, I pull the pennies out from my underwear drawer and rub my index finger over the faces. I wonder where Cape is now.

  I think back on our night together. My me is starting to get wet. I get up and lock the door. Technically when you are on probation, you are supposed to keep your door open, but I am not going to risk the shower again and I need to chase the smash. Meredith’s gone, like everyone else, but maybe Deeds will come to check on me. Is having sex with yourself against the rules? I go ahead anyway. Just like when I was a child. It will alleviate my anxiety. I lie on my bed and pull down my pants and underwear. I am still wearing the underwear from last night. It is now a souvenir, like the pennies.

  Wanting to feel that Cape is there with me, I put the pennies in my me, just far enough to feel them inside me but not so deep that I can’t retrieve them when I am done.

  I won’t wash them before giving them back. It’s like we have had sex all over again. I unlock my door and fall into a deep sleep.

  25. Phone Call

  October 1983

  EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT NIGHT. I’m sleeping but wake to Deeds calling, “Bettina, phone.”

  I thought phone calls weren’t allowed during probation. Apparently they are. I have the hope that it’s Cape calling from Wentington to lament our mutual imprisonment. Our missing the dance.

  The phone’s downstairs in Bright’s living room, a yellow rotary that rests on a table next to the couch. It looks antiquated, like something bought at an estate sale. Something a granny would use to call her family or to receive requests for brownies or crocheted blankets.

  I put the receiver up to my ear and muster a cheery “Hello?”

  “You sound pretty upbeat for someone who has managed to fuck up her Cardiss career.” Babs.

  “I’m, I’m not, Babs,” I manage to reply. I have not spoken to her in over five months.

  “Well, let me tell you, I’m quite pissed. One, that you got caught, and two, that you didn’t have the balls to tell me yourself. I’m paying a shitload of money to send you to that school, and you don’t even have the courtesy to pick up the phone to give me the heads-up.”

  “I’m sorry, Babs,” I say quietly.

  “It’s not about being sorry,” she says. “I want you to take responsibility. Some dean calls to tell me and is fucking flabbergasted when he realizes I’m the last to know. And Hailer Morse! This reeks of some kind of sad cry for help. You want my attention? Well, you got it. But I’m not going to give you a teary hug, go into therapy with you.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Babs. I like Hailer. Or Cape, as he is really called.”

  “Okay, Cape it is. I don’t have a problem with you screwing him. I have long waited for the day when you got some really good sex under your belt. But I never thought you’d be stupid enough to get caught.”

  “Babs,” I try again. “I’m really sorry.”

  “That’s not going to cut it, babe. The worst part of this whole thing is that I’m expected to attend the fucking meeting of the disciplinary committee. I have better things to do. And I’ll probably have to sit next to Mags and make nice while she pretends not to know who I am. Does Cape know about Mack?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Well, if his mother was too chicken to tell him, then I will.”

  “Please don’t,” I say.

  “Full disclosure,” Babs says. “No reason to spare your fucking prince the gory details. Maybe he’ll even learn something.”

  Though I had been considering telling him all about our parents’ affair, now I have no choice.

  “So, I’ll see you Wednesday,” I say, now sounding dejected rather than upbeat. “Will you be staying at the Cardiss Inn?”

  “I don’t do inns. They always try to get you to make friends with the other people staying there. No room service, just that offensive breakfast in the smarmy dining room—fresh-baked muffins with tubs of butter next to them, and pots of jam with spoons stuck in the them. Vile coffee and no smoking. I’ll stay at the Ritzy-Titsy in Boston and have a car take me up to campus.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” she says. “It’s your mess and I’m not coming to clean it up.”

  She slams down the phone. I stand there, going over the conversation in my mind while listening to the dial tone. As bad as the call went, it gave me the bizarre impression that Ba
bs loves me. Since the time she smacked me at the Hangover-Brunch Cruise Party, she has not let herself go and get really mad at me like this. She is actually going to alter her schedule and come to Cardiss. Sure, she will not play the dutiful mother, stay at the Cardiss Inn so she can be close to my dorm, be able to walk five minutes to see and comfort me. But she’s still coming. That counts for something.

  26. A Chat with Cape

  October 1983

  THE DAY AFTER the dance is Sunday. We have a half day of classes on Saturdays, so Sundays are the only days when we have nothing scheduled. We can sleep in, hang in the quad throwing Frisbees, and don’t even have to go to meals. Sunday is also the day to catch up on homework and, for most students, to make the weekly phone call home. After my exchange with Babs, I am not inclined to talk to her again until she comes for the trial, as I am now calling it.

  Even though nothing has happened yet, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable.

  I haven’t been kicked out, but every time I walk outside, I have the feeling that I am trespassing. I also cannot believe Cape and I have not rehashed the events of the evening. Some small part of me believed that he would seek me out, but, as usual, I’m the one who has to chase after what I want. Not that I’m in a hurry to see him. When I do, I’ll have to tell him about Mack so Babs won’t blindside him with this information.

  I go to the dining hall for brunch and spot Cape and Lowell. I sit at a table nearby, alone. Drink my coffee and eat two slices of buttered white toast.

  Then I dump the contents of my tray. Walk to Cape’s table.

  “Hey, Bettina,” Cape says, friendly but cautious. As if he is afraid I am about to propose we have sex in the dining hall, or at least make out.

  “Umm,” I respond, as both boys stare at me, “I was wondering if we could go for a walk.”

  He pauses. “I would love to, but I just don’t want faculty to see us and think we do what we did on a regular basis. That we show no remorse.”