Love and Lechery at Albert Academy

by Dolores Maggiore

  The acrid smell of Alda’s facial astringent wafted over from her sink. Its incense put the finishing touches on this funereal scene. I crawled to the other side of my bed and left the mess for later.

  I escaped from the room to shower down the hall. The hygienic whiteness of the old brick-like tiles helped to wash away the image of the gown’s lurid blackness from my sheets, my sheepskin rug, and my mind. I craved light and lightness. The crystal splash on my face brought some order to my thoughts. I wouldn’t do anything yet, except talk to Katie and maybe Alda. She had comforted me, but…

  Clean and somewhat clear, I put Alda off in response to her “what to do” questions and snatched Katie from Yodel-land before Brunhilde could fawn all over us. I didn’t want anything pawing over me but Katie.

  We snuck out to the back fence under the tall privet hedges. As crazy as it was, especially now, we made out for a good five minutes. I allowed myself to luxuriate in this stolen moment.

  Katie pushed me back by both shoulders, narrowing her eyes to a “What the heck?” I guess the extended kiss felt like a desperate gesture, as if I thought I’d never be kissed again.

  She softened her eyes and her touch. If Katie never spoke another word to me, that look, those eyes…I could live a lifetime in her gaze. Her deep blue eyes always took me in as I was, all I was. One blink and I could hear her eyes whisper, “It’s okay. Everything is just fine.”

  “I think it must be Craney. Who else could it be?” I said.

  “Let’s rule out Dorotea. We were with her all evening,” Katie said.

  “Alda was at the library.”

  Katie stopped short. “Was she?”

  “Well…but why would she? And steal the gown?” I shook my head. “Besides, she was as grossed out as I was.”

  “So you think Craney is coming on to you? That’s so sick, Pin. I mean, in your bed, her hands, her stuff…Oops, I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  “Yeah. What else could it mean? It’s not just to show she’s the boss; it’s that and sex.” I shuddered at the thought.

  “Well, she probably won’t say anything. She can’t tip her hat. But, she could have an all-room search, and say you stole it.”

  “Man! You’re right. I’ve got to get rid of it. But…”

  Katie turned that look on me again. I melted, in love, as she stroked my head. “Pin, I think you need to slow down and rest. We’ll figure out what to do. But for now…”

  “Yeah, maybe the wisest thing is to do nothing, to act like nothing has happened. In public, anyway.” I yawned

  Neither of us mentioned Craney again for a while. If I got into Craney’s head—this had to be Craney—her academic dress was the perfect projectile between my sheets, a skin-tingling symbol for her penetration into my head, into me. My stomach prepared itself for projectile vomit.

  ****

  Calm. I would just have to be cool and collected. Get through the day. Just the day. I would eventually have time to figure out the big questions: why me and could she molest me? I already had enough to straighten out in my head, like what did it mean to love Katie, and would I always be different.

  I just wanted some peace and to fit in. Nothing was fitting here. Did I have to put up with all this craziness? God, I just wanted quiet, just a lot of quiet.

  ****

  I managed the day. No Craney encounter; no merry-go-round with Dorotea; no true-confessions with Alda.

  Alda actually suggested that she hide the gown in her closet. Although only covered with a chintz curtain, Alda’s closet contained a hive of rolled sweaters and balled scarves with occasional gaping holes between them. She busied herself creating the perfect niche. She was back in the role of queen bee, depositing the gown’s liquid folds into a socket in the hive.

  The curtain fell; my eyelids closed. I blocked everything and attempted sleep.

  Veils, curtains, and gowns waved through my dreams. Some had kittens for trim, others ermine. Memories of my summers with Katie in Maine wafted in the aroma of blueberries and heady balsam needles drying in the sun. Another pungent scent almost startled my olfactory nerve awake. Garlic?

  I sank back to another episode in dreamland. Now Grandma Francesca was holding out a large clove of garlic. I heard chortling coming from the hole where a mouth should have been in a black-cloaked figure. Grandma, standing opposite this shadow in flowing white robes and long, pointed downy wings, was singing an aria in Italian. “Garlic is good. Mangia aglio.” Eat garlic. And then “The wicked witch is dead!”

  I sat bolt upright and scrambled for the light. Just across the nightstand, Alda opened one eye and snarled at me. No matter who she might be, she still wasn’t the wicked witch, and she certainly wasn’t dead.

  “A dream,” I mumbled, “a weird dream. Sorry I woke you.”

  Alda got up, drank a glass of water, and offered me some.

  “Pina, face it. You’ve got a real vivid imagination. No, don’t protest, sweetie.” With that, she ran to her desk and grabbed her Keene calendar of pointy-eyed girls and their pointy-eyed kittens.

  She was jabbing her finger at the bottom of the page and did the same with my left index finger. “What do you see?” she asked, laughing an eerie laugh.

  Oh God. I was staring at October 31.

  “Honey, go back to sleep. It’s pre-Halloween jitters. We’re going to cure you. Tomorrow night—a grand slam of Ouija Board.” She gave me a playful shove, and put out the light.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Go ask Ouija

  When I woke up to a cold, milk-white day, I pulled the Hudson Bay blanket up to my chin. Alda snored with a cowboy and Indian clad arm draped over her face. Even though I had dreamt about more witches and curses, I yawned and felt my muscles expand and melt into the padding of the mattress.

  Alda was right. Halloween was coming. We would dress up. Bob for apples. Maybe even go out with Katie’s dad, Doc, and his boyfriend, Joe, who were coming on Friday for my belated birthday, followed by my parents on Saturday.

  Mmm! Kissing Katie under the cool water. No. That’s not how bobbing worked. Oh, and Ouija tonight. Now that would be fun. I could ask Ouija if Katie and I would get married like in my crazy dream. I would also ask if there would be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!

  Oh. Parents. I had better ask the Ouija if my parents would sense something different about me. Shoot. Dorotea, would she meet my parents?

  I yawned again, almost dreaming the tingling effect of the bobbing water or cider around my lips. Finally, I rubbed my eyes. “Ouch!” I yelled. My eyes were burning.

  I jumped out of bed to go splash water on my eyes. My hands stank of garlic. I heard the dry rustling of garlic skins and started to skid on something. What the heck? A clove of garlic on the floor?

  Alda was at my side in a flash. I couldn’t open my eyes again and groped for her hand—her hand holding several cloves of garlic.

  I rinsed my eyes in my small porcelain sink as Alda stood watching me. She looked back and forth from the garlic in her hand to me.

  My face in the mirror asked the same questions: where had the garlic come from? Special delivery from Grandma and the Sicilian stregas, witches? From Alda? From Craney?

  I held up my hand like a traffic cop. “Stop! I don’t know. I don’t want to know right now.”

  I blanched all emotion from my face. I thrust my chin towards Alda and said, “We’ll ask the Ouija tonight.”

  I pushed past her, hid in my closet to dress, and departed with a dramatic whoosh of the door. I don’t know if I was convincing; I was constricting every muscle, every nerve to dam up all emotion. One hairline fissure, and I would have cracked completely.

  Classes came and went. I felt sheathed in a sarcophagus. I unwrapped my bandages enough to peek through to Katie. Under the gaze of Villager-clad ritzy girls outside the library, I pretended to question Katie about something in my science book. I rolled my eyes towards the library doors.

  We met in side-by-side carrels.
I spoke just above a whisper. “Look, I know I’ve been kinda weird.”

  “Yeah…?” Katie looked as if she was holding her breath.

  “No!” I almost dared to reach for her hand. “No, I’m not breaking up with you.” I mouthed, “I love you; I really need you.”

  Her face relaxed. She was smiling with her watery blue eyes. She looked around and held her hand to her heart.

  “I’m trying not to crack.” I closed my eyes and puffed out air.

  Her eyes said, “I know.”

  “Maybe…” she faltered, “Maybe this weekend…maybe my father…”

  I flashed her a look that screamed, “No!” The stark “no” hovered in the air, and finally softened to a “maybe.”

  “Look.” Katie wore her stern face. I had to pay attention. She had that effect on me.

  “Sweetie,” she continued. “I know you get really uptight about money and my father paying your tuition. That’s not a big deal for him. I know it is for you. Taking anything is a big deal for you.”

  “Stop, Katie.”

  “No.” She pronounced it with almost two syllables. “You’re so afraid it’s going to make you look weak or needy. Dammit, Pina, we all have things we need. Like hugging and love, and listening.”

  Her eyes seemed to go from my shoulders to my ears to my heart. She knew all the parts of me that needed tending. She was so right, of course.

  I spoke softly. “I don’t mean to hide from you. It’s so hard for me to believe you care and that you want to give all of you to me…like, like I’m worth it.”

  “But…you…you really are, sweetie. I know that even when you don’t or when you forget just how special you are.”

  “It’s like you can really see me.” I jerked my hand to my eye. A big tear was about to drop four feet from my pronounced cheekbone.

  Katie giggled. “You’re such a tomboy. And I love it.”

  “I’ll think about your dad and what to say. I promise.”

  With that, I was on my feet. I leaned over close to her ear. “Ouija, tonight. Just play along with me.”

  ****

  In the refectory, Katie and I purposely avoided eating dinner with Dorotea and Alda. Too complicated. I actually ate with my head buried in Catcher in the Rye, only nibbling at my turkey and peas. Savoring the pumpkin chiffon pie for a minute or two, I made a loud scraping sound with my chair to alert Katie that it was time for Ouija.

  I made my way out of the refectory by myself. For some reason, the loggia leading back to the dorm was dark, raising the sparse hairs on my arms. By the time I reached my room down the long, ill-lit corridor, I was in the right frame of mind to play Ouija.

  Alda had set up the board on a low table with our two chairs and the turned-over waste paper can. Katie arrived immediately after me. The three of us looked more like three preppies in the formal parlor, waiting for dates to arrive, and not three troubled teens about to delve into the world of the occult.

  Alda made some eerie sounds from the new television program The Twilight Zone and summoned us all to begin. We joined hands on the mover and called upon Ouija.

  Of course the mover showed “Yes” when we asked if Ouija was present. Alda started by asking, “Who are the lovebirds in this room?”

  The mover indicated P and K. Alda continued to question, “Did they do it?” Katie blushed. The mover sped to a quick, scientific “Yes!”

  I asked, “Is Alda jealous?” The mover seemed to be jerking to “No,” but finally slid into “Yes.”

  Katie asked if we would marry. We were puzzled when the mover bypassed yes and no, and started “i” and then “n” and “s.” We assumed all of us were pulling or pushing, but after “i-n-s-i-c-i” and then “l-i-a,” we realized the board had spelled out “in Sicily” in Italian.

  I looked at Katie. Katie didn’t know Italian, and I don’t think Alda knew we would be going to Sicily next summer. Could it be the board knew something?

  I decided I had to get down to the business of the gown. I asked, “Did Alda put the gown in my bed?” Alda shot me a filthy look. Katie seemed to be pushing the mover towards “Yes” and Alda towards “No.” The mover stopped at “?” and then zoomed to “H.”

  We didn’t know any H’s. I was about to leave the table. Katie started to reach up to touch my face. I caught my foot on the leg of the chair and plopped back down. Then with only two of our fingertips remaining on the mover, it sped to “M.” Again, we shrugged. We didn’t know any Ms.

  Katie shrieked, “H.M., H.M. Head Mistress.” Then, in quick succession, the mover spelled out “Beware.”

  By now, we could barely touch the mover. It sucked and puckered like dry ice, gluing our fingers to this charged, plastic magnifier. Its final message read, “Curse c” and the board upset itself with the jerky thrust of the mover. It lay crashed on the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Return to Normal—Normal Parents’ Visits

  After the board’s crash, I jumped up, cursing, “This is all bullcrap! I’m going to bed.”

  Katie started to “yeah-but” me and finally asked, “What about my folks?”

  I answered that tomorrow was soon enough to worry about that. I grumbled, “good night” and pulled the blanket over my head, leaving Katie and Alda to clean up.

  ****

  Katie and I met in the hallway in the morning. When she asked what we would tell her father and Joe, I said I wasn’t sure. I would play it by ear.

  Doc and Joe were cool. Katie had long before forgiven her father for the roommate situation. There wasn’t a trace of resentment. They were especially generous with me. They gave me a small leather travel case for my birthday, wishing me dreams of great journeys. We did bob for apples and Doc and Joe did kiss, but not under water as they did in my dream. Katie and I also enjoyed a kiss or two.

  As part of my birthday present, I asked for a few minutes alone with Katie in their hotel room. I explained it was so hard to get any privacy at Albert.

  We had just about closed the door to their room. We stood against the wall and merely held each other.

  “Katie,” I broke the silence. “God, Katie, this is the first time I’ve felt safe.”

  “Yeah, I know. Really, we’ve got to tell my dad about Craney.”

  I pulled away from Katie. I didn’t want to hear about Craney and whether or not she was trying to groom me. Maybe I still believed homosexuals were lechers and wound up as child abusers. I knew in my mind that that wasn’t true, but somehow asking Doc for help, well…the whole thing might be my fault. Maybe there was something sexually weird about me. Maybe this slimy world of Craney’s was really mine. Besides, I couldn’t prove a darn thing.

  “Hey! Come back here. Pin—c’mon. I won’t force you to talk to my dad. Don’t be mad.” Katie held out her hands and softly pulled me closer. “I love you,” she said.

  A tear started to swell and run the length of her cheek. I kissed the spot and felt the wet warmth on my lip. I wrapped my arms around her as we pressed into each other. We stood still like that for what seemed forever. She whispered, “I just want to keep you safe.”

  We really didn’t make out. Katie and I just held each other and vowed we’d get through this, faithful to ourselves and to each other.

  I confessed I didn’t know if I believed Alda. Maybe it was Craney, maybe Alda, maybe even Dorotea who was baiting me.

  We also agreed we’d find a way to see each other when Dorotea and I were moved to Albert Hall. Katie said they’d probably switch Alda into her room. She knew she’d have to be on her guard even with Alda.

  We only stayed about fifteen minutes before rejoining Doc and Joe. Everything and everyone was so relaxed. It was pure fun! I felt like a kid again.

  I really didn’t want to talk about Craney. Then I overheard Katie telling Joe, as an investigative journalist, to check out the story about the former instructor Craney had allegedly fired.

  “You know.” Doc lifted his head from the pap
er he was reading and spoke to anyone who wanted to listen. “There have been rumors. I never believed them. Besides, if Miss Craney had a lady friend, well, that was her business, right?” He sucked on the stem of his pipe.

  I definitely wanted to hear about this. “Well, Doc, what kind of rumors?”

  “They called them ‘particular friendships’, but it was never totally clear whether they were with adults and consensual or…well, people couldn’t very well imagine Miss Mary Margaret Craney capable of that.”

  “You mean abusing kids?” I said.

  “Yes.” Doc coughed as he lit his pipe for real. “I figured that was some bigot’s attempt to smear the name of an Ivy Leaguer.”

  “But Dad,” Katie broke in, pulling away from the chat with Joe. “Maybe Craney is doing that to Pina.”

  “C’mon, Katie. Don’t.” I frowned at her.

  Doc raised his eyebrows and ran his hand through his thick, white hair. He exchanged a look with Joe. “That’s a serious allegation, Katie.”

  I protested there was nothing to be concerned about.

  Doc exhaled and held the pipe out, seeming to weigh his words. “If she ever gets out of line with you, you’ll let us know, won’t you, Pina?” He was studying both Katie and myself.

  “Yes, of course,” I mumbled.

  I knew I couldn’t prove anything, and Joe reminded me that there had been hazings of other minority students. He meant Italian and not wealthy, but I was also thinking about my other minority issue. That would be more than a simple hazing.

  Doc looked from Katie to me, asking if we were being discreet. We just nodded. I realized that maybe the biggest help to me now would have to be my grandmother, or at least my dreams.

  He was still watching me as I travelled deeper and deeper into my head, into my grandmother’s world. He placed his sturdy grip on my shoulder, reassuring me he would believe anything I said.

  When they left us, Joe embraced me, smoothing back the straggly ends of my ponytail. He gave me his private phone number and reminded us we weren’t alone.

  We cried as we watched them drive off. My parents’ visit the next day would be totally different. Filled up with the safety of this day and Katie’s folks, we returned to our separate rooms, ready to sleep. And sleep soundly we did.