Sins of Innocence (18 page)

“Hi, Ginny,” P.J. said.

“Yeah,” Ginny answered.

“Well, Ginny.” Old bleach head cleared her throat. “You’ve already taken care of your finances, and we can talk about the rules and responsibilities at dinner. The other girls are in town right now, so I thought you two would like to get acquainted.”

Camp buddies—I just knew it
.

“I’ll see you both at six.” With that, the old bat swept out the door. P.J. closed it.

“Nice room,” P.J. said.

Ginny caught the hint of sarcasm. “Sure, if you’re Shirley fucking Temple.”

P.J. laughed. “So how old are you?”

“In years or experience?”

“Years. I’ll bet everyone here is older in ‘experience.’ ”

“Seventeen.”

“Wow. You look older. I’m twenty. You look at least that. Where are you from?”

“Beantown. Boston.”

“No kidding. I went to school there.”

“Yeah?”

“B.U.” P.J. pointed toward Ginny’s stomach. “You wouldn’t happen to know a guy named Frank there, would you?”

Ginny laughed. “Frank, as in Frank-the-father-of-your-kid?”

“Mmm.”

“Sorry. Don’t think so.”

“We were in school together. He—” P.J. paused. “He dumped me. So it was back home to Mom and Dad. And, of course, the good Reverend Blacksmith, who knew about this place just opening. How’d you find this place?”

“Friend of a friend. A guy who does abortions.”

P.J. looked shocked. “Abortions? You were going to have an abortion?”

Christ. This one must be from one of those squeaky-clean families. “Sure. But I decided to leave the clothes hangers in the closet.”

P.J. changed the subject. “So what’s your tale of woe?”

“Mine?”

“You know. You’re pregnant. What about the father?”

Ginny rolled off the bed. “What is this? Twenty-fucking-questions?” she snapped. “I’m a virgin, if you really want to know. I’m here because of an Immaculate Conception.” She snapped open a suitcase and took out a carton of Newports and a pint of whiskey. She unscrewed the cap and took a deep swig, then ripped open a pack of cigarettes. She glanced around the pristine room. “Don’t they have any fucking ashtrays in this place?”

Jess

At dinner that evening the five of them sat around the mahogany table. Jess tried to make small talk. Because she’d been the first girl at Larchwood, Jess felt it her duty to make the others feel comfortable. It was nicer here than at boarding school. There, Jess had always been too shy to make friends with the snobbish menagerie of society’s best, but here, the girls were different. Miss Taylor was at the head of the table: Jess, Susan, and the two new ones, P.J. and Ginny, flanked the sides. It was still hard to know what to say, but Jess wanted to try. P.J. seemed friendly enough, even though she was so gorgeous, but Ginny, wow, she was a tough one. Ginny had
hardly acknowledged any of them during the entire meal, and she kept jiggling her leg under the table, vibrating the entire floor. Jess wished she could tell her to stop. It was driving her crazy. But then, it was Ginny’s first night at Larchwood. Maybe the girl was just nervous. Maybe they were all nervous.

“It’s Saturday night,” Jess spoke up. “I think we should go to a movie. Anyone interested?” More than anything, she hated the nights at Larchwood. She hated being alone in the darkness.

“Sounds good to me,” P.J. said.

“I have some reading to do,” Susan said. “And I think I’ll skip dessert.” She got up from the table.

“You always have reading to do!” Jess called after her.

“It’s part of being educated,” she retorted, and left the room.

“I’ll go,” Ginny said.

“What?” Jess glanced over at the hard-looking new girl.

“I’ll go. I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, and I already feel the need to get the hell out.”

Pop Hines dropped them off in front of the Majestic Theatre.

“The show’s over at nine. Could you pick us up at ten at Patsy’s?” Jess asked. Patsy’s was the soda shop next door to the movie house.

“Sure thing. Have a good time!” The old man chuckled and drove off.

The girls got in line behind two young, giggling, hand-holding couples. Jess watched as one of the girls turned and kissed her boyfriend, openmouthed. The girl moaned softly, and the boy slid his hand to her backside. Lovers, Jess thought. Hands holding, lips touching, eyes locking. The way she and Richard had been. Richard. The son of a middle-class car salesman and his schoolteacher wife. Richard. The boy who was simply not good enough for Warren Bates’s daughter. Jess looked at P.J. and Ginny. They, too, watched the young couple.

“I don’t know if I can take this,” Ginny snarled. “Besides, I’ve seen
The Graduate
three times.”

“We could just go to Patsy’s for coffee,” Jess suggested. “Skip the movie.”

“Great,” P.J. said. “Let’s do it.”

Inside the soda shop a dozen padded metal stools stood at attention in front of a long counter. A man and a little boy sat on two of them: The man sipped coffee; the boy gorged a banana split, slopping more of it onto his shirt than into his mouth. The only other person in the place was a woman behind the counter in a tight pink uniform.

“Evening, ladies,” she said. “What’ll it be?”

Jess noticed the reflection of the woman in the long wall mirror. The back of her uniform pulled away from the zipper; her strawlike hair was encased in a torn hair net.

“I’ll have coffee, regular. And I think we’ll sit at a table,” Jess said.

“Same for me,” P.J. added.

“Coke,” Ginny said. “No ice.”

Jess led them to a round wrought-iron table, and they sat on the old-fashioned soda-parlor chairs. Once the woman delivered their drinks, Ginny started jiggling her leg again. Jess steadied the small table.

“So what’s with the bitch?” Ginny pried.

“Miss Taylor?” Jess asked. In the harsh light of the shop Jess noticed a severe case of acne concealed beneath Ginny’s heavy makeup.

“No. The tall broad. The hippie freak with the long hair.”

“Oh. Susan.” Jess hadn’t really figured Susan out. It didn’t make sense. Susan wore love beads and talked—when she did talk—about peace and making the world a better place. But she certainly didn’t share any feelings of “brotherly love” around Larchwood. Susan remained distant and disassociated, almost as though she resented being there. “Well,” Jess continued, “she studies a lot. She just graduated from Barnard, and I guess she’s going to go to graduate school or something. I get the impression she’s real smart.”

“I get the impression she doesn’t want much to do with anyone,” P.J. said.

“Well, she’s old, you know?” Jess said. “Older than the rest of us. She probably thinks she doesn’t have much in common with us.” Jess didn’t tell them that last week Susan had reprimanded her for eating grapes. Something about supporting a new national boycott on behalf of the farmworkers, whatever that meant. Even though she loved grapes, Jess stopped snacking on them. It didn’t seem as though the few pieces of fruit she consumed could make a difference in someone’s life, but Jess didn’t want to give Susan a reason not to like her. And maybe there was really something important in what Susan said. Who was Jess to say Susan was wrong? She thought about that now and sipped her coffee. “She’s really okay,” Jess said.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Ginny frowned, tossed the straw from her glass, and lit a Newport.

“Can I bum one?” P.J. asked. “I left mine in my room.”

“What color is yours, anyway? Christ, I can’t believe I’m in a pink-and-white bedroom.”

“Actually mine’s not bad.” P.J. scowled, taking a cigarette from Ginny’s crushed pack. “I wish it was closer to the bathroom though. Morning sickness. Yuck.”

“I wouldn’t know. Hey, where’s the bitch’s room anyway?”

Jess thought back to the day Susan arrived. She’d overheard Susan tell Miss Taylor she’d prefer to be as far away from the other girls as possible. She’d said she’d need peace and quiet. But something had told Jess not to mention this either; it might only make matters worse. Obviously Ginny wasn’t too crazy about Susan, and they were going to have to live with one another for some time. “Susan’s on the third floor. There’s one room up there.”

“A good place for a queen,” Ginny said. “It kills me though. What makes her think she’s better than the rest of us?”

“She really is okay,” Jess repeated. “She keeps to herself, and that’s okay.”

“Yeah. Fine with me.”

“Well, I’m sure she has problems.” Jess half wondered why on earth she was defending Susan.

Ginny laughed coarsely. “Seems to me we all have problems. The same one.”

Jess scooped a heaping teaspoon of sugar and slowly set it on the surface of her coffee, letting the milky brown liquid seep across the bowl of the spoon. “Look,” she said thoughtfully, “it’s like the buffalo stampeding across the plains.” She studied her spoon until the white granules were totally immersed in coffee. “My mother used to say that when I was a little girl. She’d give me tea-milk, you know, half tea, half milk, and she showed me how to add the sugar slowly, so it looked like buffalo stampeding across the plains.”

Neither Ginny nor P.J. said anything.

Jess dropped her spoon into the cup and quickly stirred. Why had she said that? These two new girls were going to think she was some kind of idiot. She felt a hot rush in her cheeks. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat and continued, “my problem won’t last forever. Richard and I are going to run away and get married.” As soon as she’d said it, Jess was sorry. She hadn’t meant for anyone to know of their plan.

“Aren’t you a little young?” P.J. asked.

“I’ll be sixteen this summer.”

“What about the kid?” Ginny asked.

Jess studied her mug. “We’re going to be together. We’re going to be a family. Richard is working on a plan right now.”

There was silence for a moment.

“But, please,” she added, “don’t tell anyone else.”

“Married.” P.J. sighed. She took a long drag off her cigarette and exhaled forcefully. “Yeah, I thought I might be too.” Through the smoke that swirled before her face, Jess could see a faraway look in P.J.’s eyes.

“Who needs it?” Ginny said.

As Ginny nonchalantly took a big gulp of Coke, Jess wondered if Ginny had concrete walls around her emotions.

“So what’s the doctor like?” P.J. asked, changing the subject.

Jess turned from Ginny. “He’s okay. An old guy. He’ll be coming once a month, I guess.”

“Gross,” Ginny said.

“No, he’s okay, really.”

“Christ, is everything and everyone ‘okay’ to you?” Ginny snapped. “I hate to tell you, honey, but everything is not ‘okay.’ We’re all pregnant. And personally I don’t give a shit if everything is okay.”

“Ssh, Ginny, not so loud,” Jess whispered, mortified. She glanced around the restaurant. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them.

“Fuck,” Ginny said. “What do I care who hears me? In a hick town like this, they’re all going to know sooner or later. The ‘bad girls.’ The ones who live at that
home
.” She stressed “home” as though it were a mysterious, evil place. “As for me, I just want to get this over with. One way or another. I’ve got big plans myself. I’m going to be a star.” She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. “I’ve got to take a leak.” She stormed off toward the back of the soda shop, her miniskirt hiked high enough to attract a stare from the man at the counter.

Jess looked at P.J. “Wow. She sure is angry.”

“You know it,” P.J. said. “And don’t ask her anything about the father of her baby. She gets really hostile. Like she’s got something to hide.” P.J. reached over and took another cigarette from Ginny’s pack. “You don’t smoke?”

“No.”

“You’re lucky. I started when I went to college, and now I can’t stop. I’ll probably get lung cancer, if I don’t give it to the baby first.”

“Is it going to be hard for you?”

“What?”

“You know, giving up the baby. It sounds like you loved the father.”

P.J. played with the cigarette. “Yeah. I did love him. I still do, I guess. I can’t believe he dumped me. He said he couldn’t be sure it was his. What a creep.”