by Dean Hughes
“Then you’d better bring that C in English up to an A before the end of the term.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Oh, LaRue, I’ve never been able to convince you that one thing leads to another. You need good grades–a good education–to do the kinds of things you’re always talking about.”
LaRue really doubted that the businessmen she knew had had good grades in school all the time. But Mom was always going to say things like that, and LaRue was in no mood to argue with her.
Sister Thomas walked over and sat down across the table from her. “Honey,” she said, “I came home to fix a nice dinner, but I also came home to talk to you.”
Just then Beverly pushed the door open and looked in. “Is that bread I smell?” she asked, her eyes wide.
Sister Thomas laughed. “What is it with you two? You act like I never bake anymore.”
“You don’t,” LaRue said.
But Beverly, always nicer, said, “You haven’t for a while.”
“I’ll have some rolls out before long,” Sister Thomas said, “but run along for a few minutes. I need to talk to your sister.”
Beverly seemed just a little too quick to nod and then to leave, as though she were saying, “I understand. LaRue needs some talking to.” That bothered LaRue. Was she the family worry these days? Did everyone, even Beverly, think she had turned into a problem child?
As soon as Beverly was gone, Sister Thomas reached over and took hold of LaRue’s hand. “Honey,” she said, “I’m worried about you.”
“You sound like dad,” LaRue said, and she pulled her hand back.
Sister Thomas took some time to react to that. LaRue could tell she was being careful, and that bothered her, too. “You know what I said to your dad when he tried to stop you from going to the club that day. But I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I was telling him. I believe when someone is your age, that you have the right to make a lot of your own decisions. But I also believe that trust is something you earn, not something that comes automatically.”
“I thought a person was innocent until proven guilty,” LaRue said. “Dad assumes I’m doing something bad–with no reason. That shows what he thinks of me.”
Sister Thomas shifted in her chair, gripped her fingers together in her lap. She was clearly nervous. “Honey, your dad and I aren’t as dumb as you might think. We know the kinds of things that go on in this world. And we know that someone who’s inexperienced can get in a difficult situation and make a mistake very easily.”
“What mistakes have I made?”
“I’m not saying you’ve made any. I’m saying that some situations are hard to handle.”
“Mom, I know exactly what’s going on here. You stood up to Dad for once in your life, and you almost knocked his socks off. But as soon as I left this house that night, I’ll bet he got you under his thumb again. Now you’re just telling me what he’s told you to say.”
LaRue was shocked by what she saw. Mom’s face hardened. Her finger poked toward LaRue. “You have no right to say that to me, LaRue. You’ve always been convinced that the world makes its orbit right around your head–and any time it doesn’t seem to do that, you get put out. What I’m saying to you is what I want to say. I’m not under any instructions from your father.”
LaRue was irate. She was so tired of the same old accusations. It was what Dad always said about her, that she was somehow more self-centered than other people. LaRue stood up and said, with ice in her voice, “My whole life I’ve watched you back down to Dad and let him have his way about everything. I know how things work around here. So don’t tell me he didn’t ask you to talk to me.”
LaRue saw instantly that she was right. She saw her mother’s indignation disappear, saw her eyes disengage. LaRue had her little victory, so she turned to make her proud exit. But she already felt something else–the loss that had come with the victory. And when her mother said, “Don’t go, LaRue,” she did stop and turn around.
“LaRue, I wish I’d never said those things to your dad with you and Beverly there. It’s not that I didn’t mean them, but I was mad, and I know I gave you the wrong impression in some ways.”
“I don’t agree, Mom. Dad had it coming.”
“Just listen to me for a minute, okay? I need to say some things to you, and I want to get it right this time.”
LaRue sat down again. She was actually touched by her mother’s tone of voice, and she felt her own anger fade.
“First,” Mom said, “your father is the head of our home. He has that stewardship, and he has the priesthood. I honor that, and I honor him. I want you to understand that. I lost my temper that day, so I exaggerated some things, but I do think it’s important for a righteous father to lead his home.”
“Why can’t a father and a mother lead together?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what they should do, and you heard what I said that day. I think that your dad sometimes reacts before he thinks, and before he talks to me. He has fault in that, as far as I’m concerned, but so do I. And I want you to know that since that day, he and I have had some long talks. I think we’ve worked some things out that we should have dealt with long ago. As you say, I usually let him get away with making decisions without me. But I don’t think he’ll do that in the future.”
“Mom, he’s like a bulldozer. He may claim he’s going to change, but he can’t do it.”
Sister Thomas took a breath. LaRue could see she didn’t like that. But she didn’t say so. She got up and walked to the oven, opened the door, and peeked inside. Then she turned and tucked her hands into the pockets of her faded blue housedress, under her apron. “LaRue,” she said, “all I can tell you is that we’re both going to try to do some things a little differently. That’s what marriage is all about–working out differences, adjusting to new circumstances.”
“If I ever get married, my husband is going to know he’s got his hands full,” LaRue said, and she finally smiled.
“No doubt. Your generation is going to be more like that, I’m sure. But don’t think that will solve every problem. It will also create some new ones.”
LaRue didn’t know about that. But she did know that she would never be a “silent partner” in a marriage.
“Honey, you still don’t understand that I’m just as worried about you as your father is. And maybe I have more reason. I think I know you better.”
So here it was again: LaRue and all her problems.
“I know you can make mistakes at a church dance, or out on the front porch, as far as that goes–but I think you’re in an element down at the USO that is dangerous. And even though you think you understand those dangers, I’m not sure you do.”
“Come on, Mom. I’m not a child.”
“LaRue, please. Listen for a minute. If we’re going to trust you, we can also give you some warnings. If you think you can kiss this young man you’ve met down there without building up his expectations for other things, you simply don’t understand the ledge you’re standing on.”
“Mom, I’ve told Ned what my standards are. He understands that. He knows I won’t drink, and that I won’t let him start fooling around–if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, LaRue, I do happen to know what you mean–although you may think that impossible.”
LaRue saw some color come into her mother’s face and felt some heat in her own. She glanced away at the kitchen window, over the sink. The sun was setting already. Even with “war time”–the daylight saving time that was in force for the duration–sunset came very early this time of year. The valley was very smoky today, with so many coal stoves going, and the sky was full of a dirty red glare.
“Ned wants to be serious. But I don’t. I’ve told him that.” LaRue felt a sudden impulse to admit a little more, to chat with her mother more intimately.
“What do you mean, ‘serious’?”
“Well, I think he’d like me to marry him someday.”
“Do
es he know how old you are?”
“Not exactly.”
“LaRue!”
Suddenly LaRue felt her defenses rise up again. “It doesn’t matter. He thinks I’m a little older than I am, but he also knows I don’t want to talk about marriage.”
“Have you told him you wouldn’t marry out of the Church?”
“Yes. We talked about that. He says he wants to join.”
“Without knowing anything about it?” Mom walked back to the table and sat down again. As she did, the light reflected off her face, and LaRue saw a little smear of flour along her cheekbone. It suddenly struck LaRue how planned this all was–the baked bread, the early arrival home, even the little speech. It was irritating, however well meant.
“Mom, that’s not the point,” LaRue said. “I’m not going to marry him. I’m just saying that he likes me that much, and I’ve told him what my standards are. So there’s nothing to worry about.”
“But if you’re kissing, LaRue, other things can start to happen.”
“Mom! What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“A normal one. And he’s a normal young man. Things can get out of control if you let them. What I think you should do is break up with this boy. And the truth is, I think you should stay away from the USO.”
“Here we go again.”
“LaRue, listen to me. I didn’t tell you to stop going. I told you I think that would be best. I would hope you would see what all this is doing to you. You hardly ever go to Mutual anymore. You spend most of your time with older girls and all those soldiers at the club. It’s just not the best atmosphere for you.”
“You don’t know the rules down there, Mom. They don’t let anything wild go on.”
“LaRue, you’re trying to grow up too fast, and that isn’t healthy. I’m getting frustrated, and I don’t want to, but I see you drifting away from the things you’ve learned in this family, and it scares me. I’m not trying to run your life, but I’m asking you to make your own decision to do the right things.”
“Mom, the only difference between you and Dad is that he comes straight out with what he has to say, and you try to beat around the bush.”
LaRue knew that wasn’t fair, not entirely, but what she felt from her mother was what she felt from her father: mistrust. And once again, someone was trying to take away the most exciting thing in her life.
“LaRue, what would you do if you saw your own child doing things you thought were dangerous? Wouldn’t you try to warn her?”
“I guess so. But I’ve been warned plenty. And I’m tired of it. I’ve never done anything wrong. And then I come home and all I hear is that I’m some little tramp. Maybe I’ll do some of those things you accuse me of–just to give you something to really worry about.”
This time LaRue got up and walked out, and when her mother called after her to come back, she kept on going. She headed upstairs to her room. She did some of her homework–half-heartedly–and ignored the rest. She liked the good dinner that night, but she didn’t say so. In fact, she said nothing, and when she got up from the table, she announced to her mother that she was going to the club, and she left.
That night she danced with Ned, or talked with him, most of the evening. She had actually been planning to break up with him soon, since he always wanted to talk about marriage, and she didn’t want that, but tonight she took some pleasure in toying with him. She liked the idea that she could entice him by letting him hold her close during a dance, even by kissing his ear, but that she could suddenly change the mood–move away, tease him, get him laughing–and keep things under control. All this was her choice, and she enjoyed knowing that. She liked feeling grown up and skillful with a boy so much older.
“What’s going on?” he asked her finally, after a dance.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been playing games with me all night. I don’t like that.”
“What games?” She stepped a little closer and adjusted his uniform tie, straightening it a little, but then running her fingers along his neck and behind his ear.
“Those games,” he said. He laughed, reached around her, and pulled her against him.
She gave him a little peck on the cheek, and then she said, “Come on. Let’s dance.” A fast number–“One O’Clock Jump”–had started to play on the jukebox. She stood up and took his hand, leading him onto the dance floor. Around them, couples were starting to dance, and with the blaring music, it wasn’t easy to hear.
Ned shook his head with some frustration, but he was still smiling. She loved the way she was keeping him off balance. He leaned toward her and said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“What?”
“I borrowed a car from a friend of mine. And I have plenty of gas. I’m going to give you a ride home tonight–the first time I’ve ever been able to do that.”
LaRue felt some of her confidence disappear. She wasn’t sure she wanted that. And yet she hated that her mother’s warnings were setting off alarms. There was nothing wrong with riding home with him. And so she said, “Let’s go now. You can take me for a ride.”
“Have you ever been to Gravity Hill?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“You have?”
She pulled him off the dance floor, away from all the movement and noise. “I’ve only been up there with my family,” she said. “My brothers used to get my Dad to stop up there.”
“Is it really true? Does the car roll uphill?”
“My dad says it doesn’t; it just looks like it. But Dad thinks he knows everything.”
“Well, let’s try it out for ourselves.” He winked.
“Neddy, boy, now what do you have in mind? I was talking about a science experiment.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was talking about too.”
What they both knew, of course, was that Gravity Hill, actually a road just past the Capitol Building on Capitol Hill, was famous as a place for teenagers to park.
“I know what you want,” LaRue said. She touched his chin with her finger. “You want to park up there and neck. And I don’t do that.”
“I know. You’ve told me lots of times.”
“Well, don’t forget it.”
But as they left the club, the same kind of joking continued, and LaRue knew that Ned would make some sort of attempt. She could handle it; she wasn’t worried about that. Still, she felt a little nervous–and maybe excited, too. What she liked, though, was that when she got into the car, she felt more grown up than she ever had in her life. She was wearing a brown skirt and tan sweater–an outfit that Bobbi had left behind in her closet. LaRue had taken a long look at herself before she had left the house. She thought she looked like a college girl–very sophisticated–and she knew she looked pretty.
“What kind of a car is this?” she asked, without the slightest interest but at a loss for something to say.
“It’s a Plymouth. It’s kind of a wreck, but it got me here from Hill Field.” LaRue noticed a little strain in his voice, as though he were nervous himself.
He drove to Capitol Hill, and LaRue showed him where the road was. Halfway along the hill, he stopped the car, put the gearshift in neutral, and took his foot off the brake. There was enough moonlight to see the rim of the little canyon in silhouette, but most of the illusion was lost. When the car started to roll, Ned said, “It doesn’t feel like uphill to me.”
“You have to come in the day so you can see it right.”
The car was rolling slowly forward, and Ned let it angle off to the side of the road. Then he stopped the car and set the emergency brake.
“No, no, Ned. Don’t get anything in your head. We’re leaving now.”
“Give me one kiss first.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You always kiss me goodnight.”
“Drive me home. I’ll kiss you goodnight when we’re there.”
“You won’t want to kiss me out in front of your house. You’ll be too afr
aid someone will see you.” He was smiling, and he looked handsome, with his easy smile and the firm, clean lines of his jaw, half in silhouette, in the moonlight.
What he had said was actually true. Besides, LaRue wanted just a little of this. She wanted to kiss him. She knew that lots of kids came up here to kiss–Mormon kids, whether her Mom knew it or not–and it wasn’t such a huge thing to worry about.
She didn’t slide toward him, but when he shifted toward her, she didn’t stop him, and when he turned her face to his, with his hand on her chin, she did let him kiss her. And after the kiss, he held her, kissed her on the neck, and ran his hand down her back and along her side. She felt chills from his touch, and when he kissed her again, she didn’t stop him this time either. She told herself, Just this much and then no more, but she put more of herself into this kiss, reaching her arms around him. When his hand moved across the front of her, touching her waist, she pushed his hand away, but she liked the tingling excitement of it, and when his hand came back and they were kissing the third time, she didn’t push it away. When he moved his hand under her sweater, on her skin, she liked that even better. He wasn’t touching her anywhere that was wrong, she told herself. And they would stop in just a moment.
But his fingers were working back and forth across her skin, each stroke moving higher. And LaRue was feeling something wildly exciting that she didn’t know she was capable of. She was about to say stop when he pushed his hand farther up her sweater, but still she was kissing him, harder than ever, and he was pushing his body against her, gradually pushing his weight over on top of her.
And suddenly she panicked. “No!” she said, and she thrust her hands against his chest, jolting him away.
“I’m sorry, LaRue. I’m sorry. I thought you liked it. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Just take me home.”
“All right. But I wasn’t trying to force anything. You acted like you wanted something to happen.”
She had wanted something to happen. Even in her horror now, she still wanted it. She had never felt so removed from her own body, so full of conflict. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have let you think that. I need to go home now.”
