Sins of Innocence (24 page)

“He dropped this one off,” Miss Taylor continued. “He thought you girls might enjoy having it around.”

Jess felt a twinge of guilt over how she’d reacted to the man. “Isn’t that nice.”

“Yes,” Miss Taylor said. “He is a very nice man.”

“Well, what will we name it?” Jess asked.

“It’s up to you,” Miss Taylor said.

“I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Mrs. Hines snarled, “Don’t rightly matter at that age! Can’t rightly tell too easily either. But no matter what you call it, if you want it, you take care of it. I ain’t cleanin’ up after no cat. Got me enough work around here.”

Jess took the little bundle from the basket and held it close to her, trying to ignore the housekeeper’s sharpness.

“Why don’t we name it something that would suit either a boy or a girl,” she said quietly, then added, “I’ve got it! Why don’t we name it ‘Larchwood’?”

“Perfect!” Miss Taylor said. “Now I think Larchwood could use a saucer of milk!”

Jess looked into the kitten’s blue eyes.
Oh, Larchwood
, she thought,
you’re really too perfect. You and I will be very good friends. I will love you and take care of you
. She held the kitten up to get a closer look.
And when Richard comes to get me, you’ll be part of our family too
.

During the day Jess carried Larchwood around in the straw basket and took the kitten out to play as often as possible. Mrs. Hines grudgingly relinquished an old ball of yarn, which Larchwood loved to chase, batting it until it unraveled. At night the kitten slept quietly in Jess’s room in its basket; in the morning Jess snuggled with it and played with it under the covers, whispering to it her secrets and her plans, telling it all about Richard and about the wonderful family they were going to have. The kitten listened quietly and licked her hand as she spoke. In return Jess loved it and cared for its every need.

One August afternoon Jess was on the veranda with the kitten. She had bought a tiny pink rhinestone collar for Larchwood and was trying to put it on the wriggling cat. P.J. came out onto the porch.

“How’s little Larchwood doing today?” she asked.

“Help me out, P.J., would you please? I just need her to sit still long enough so I can put her collar on.”

P.J. stepped back. “I don’t know, Jess. When I was a kid, cats made me sneeze.”

“It’ll only take a minute. Please?”

“Oh, okay,” P.J. said, and reached for the kitten. “She really is cute.”

Jess, the proud mother, started to loop the strap around the kitten’s neck.

P.J. sneezed. Larchwood jumped from her arms and scampered across the veranda.

“Stop her!” Jess screamed, and jumped from her chair. P.J. stood in place, sneezing. Jess ran after Larchwood, just as Ginny emerged from the front door. Ginny reached down and scooped up the runaway kitten.

“Lose something?” she asked Jess, holding the kitten up high with one hand.

“Oh, Ginny, thanks.” Jess reached out to take Larchwood from Ginny, but Ginny held the kitten higher.

“Cats are terrible creatures,” Ginny said. “Their piss smells like sneakers, and the only thing they’re good for is catching rodents. They’re really disgusting.”

Jess felt a twinge of fear. “Come on, Ginny, give her to me.” She reached toward the kitten again, but Ginny pulled it back. The kitten wriggled in Ginny’s palm.

“Are you sure you want it? Cats carry all kinds of diseases, you know.”

“Give her the cat, Ginny!” Miss Taylor had appeared behind the door.

Ginny shrugged and handed Larchwood to Jess. “Christ, I was only trying to have a little fun. This place is so boring, it’s making me nuts.”

Jess took the kitten and held it close to her. She nuzzled her gently and petted her. “It’s okay, little Larchwood,” she whispered. “It’s okay.” What a creep that Ginny could be, Jess thought. God, I don’t think I like her. Not one bit.

P.J. had finally stopped sneezing. “Sorry, Jess,” she said. “It was my fault.”

Jess shook her head.

“Yes, it was,” P.J. persisted.

“Christ, what a bunch of crybabies,” Ginny hissed. “What’s the problem? I’ll take care of it.”

“No. There’s no problem. Never mind,” Jess said.

“Christ, I said I’d help!”

“I think you should, Ginny,” Miss Taylor said, as she disappeared back inside.

“Okay,” Jess relented. “If you could just hold the kitten while I put on her collar.…”

“Sure, sure,” Ginny said, taking the kitten from Jess. “But, Christ, don’t tell anyone I spent an afternoon playing house with a fucking cat.”

Susan

Inside the living room Susan could hear the annoying sounds of the girls arguing. Shallow stuff. Bickering. Always bickering. A favorite pastime of the ignorant. And Ginny was always at the root of it. The ultimate antagonist. God, she’d give anything to be around people her own age!

Susan tossed aside the local newspaper in disgust. A few days ago Sirhan Sirhan had pleaded Not Guilty to Robert Kennedy’s assassination. Yesterday Ronald Reagan announced he was joining the presidential race on the Republican ticket. Reagan! A goddamn actor! What was this country coming to when a ne’er-do-well caught red-handed thought he could get away with murder, and a plastic face from
Hollywood
, no less, thought he could run America? And this goddamn newspaper! There was more in-depth reporting about church bazaars and who’s-marrying-whom than there was about important issues like peace and politics.

“Screw it,” Susan said aloud. “I’ve got to get a real newspaper.” She got up off the sofa and decided to go find Pop. Maybe he’d let her borrow the station wagon to make a quick run into town for
The New York Times
. She knew she’d never have a shot at finding a
Village Voice
around here, but at least the
Times
could give her some intelligent insight into what was happening in the world.

Choosing to avoid the commotion on the front porch, Susan walked through the kitchen and out the back door. She spotted Pop right away. He was bent over a huge bed of coral and pink impatiens, muttering to himself. As Susan
approached, he looked up and wiped the sweat from his soiled brow.

“Too hot. It’s just too hot for these beauties,” he said. “They’re losing their color and losing their spirit.”

“I know the feeling,” Susan said. “Pop, would you mind if I borrowed the station wagon for a few minutes? I really need to get into town, and I don’t want to bother you.”

Pop rubbed his chin. “Well, now, I’m not rightly sure, Miss Susan. I don’t think old Bess has any
in
surance to cover you.” He stressed the first syllable of the word, a habit Susan found irritating.

“It’ll be okay, Pop. It’s just a couple of miles, and besides, I have insurance that covers me when I’m driving someone else’s car.”

He turned back to the faded flowers. “Well, I guess it’ll be all right. Long as we don’t make a habit of it. Old Bess is all I’ve got. The keys are in her.”

“Thanks, Pop,” Susan said, and with a newfound taste of freedom, however small, she skipped toward the station wagon. Susan got behind the wheel and adjusted the seat to accommodate her long legs and five-months-pregnant belly. She slammed the door, dimly aware of renewed chaos coming from the front porch. She started the car, threw it into reverse, and stepped on the gas. Over the sound of the gunned engine Susan heard Jess’s piercing scream. Then she felt a thump under the wheel.

Susan stopped the car. She turned to see Jess, P.J., and Ginny racing toward the car. Jess was screaming; P.J.’s face was twisted in pain; Ginny had her hand to her mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” Ginny shouted. “Jesus H. Christ!”

Suddenly Susan knew what had happened. She jumped from the car. The kitten. That stupid little kitten Jess had been hovering over for days. Susan slowly turned to look beneath the car’s wheel. A clump of white fur was flattened and soaked with bright red blood. A small blue eye popped from its socket.

“Oh, God,” Susan said.

“Larchwood!” Jess screeched. “You’ve killed Larchwood!” She burst into tears.

P.J. stared beneath the wheel.

Ginny awkwardly put an arm around Jess. “Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t hold her tight enough.”

Jess shook her head. “It’s not your fault. If Susan had watched where she was going …” Jess spun around to Susan. “I can’t believe you killed my kitten!”

Susan stood motionless, speechless. She had never killed anything before. Not a kitten, not a spider, not an ant. Her legs felt like jelly.

Pop emerged from the backyard, trowel in hand. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Susan killed Larchwood!” P.J. said, and pointed to the bloody mass on the ground.

“Oh, Lord,” he said, then rubbed his chin. “You girls best get inside. I’ll take care of this.”

Ginny steered Jess toward the house.

Susan took a step forward. “Jess,” she called.

“Shut up, bitch,” Ginny said.

Susan didn’t know what to do. She felt as though she should help Pop remove the dead kitten. She felt as though she should follow the girls into the house. Instead, she stood perfectly still.

“Out of the way, Miss Susan,” Pop said. “I’ll clean up this mess.”

She moved aside, then looked up at the house. With mechanical steps, Susan began to walk. She had to apologize to Jess. She had to explain it had been an accident.

She found the girls upstairs. P.J. was standing by the door of Jess’s room; Ginny stood in the hall. As the girls saw Susan approach, they stared at her. Susan walked past them into the room. Miss Taylor was sitting beside Jess on the bed, trying to comfort her.

“Maybe Sheriff Wilson can find another kitten for us,” Miss Taylor was saying.

Jess had stopped crying and sat staring, glassy-eyed,
straight ahead. “No,” she finally said. “No, it’s no use. Everything I’ve ever loved has left me.”

Susan was struck by the tone of her voice. Though the words suggested self-pity, there was none of that in the sound. What Jess was voicing was simply what she believed to be the truth.

“That’s not true,” Susan said.

The watery eyes looked up at her.

“You have Richard.”

Jess glared at P.J. and Ginny. They had told Susan. They had told her about the plan. She shifted her gaze back to the window.

“What do you know about Richard?”

Susan cleared her throat and walked to the bed. With Miss Taylor there, she wasn’t about to tell Jess that P.J. had told her of Jess’s plans to run away with Richard.

“I know you write to him every day. That must mean you love each other.”

Jess’s tears began again. “I’ve been here over two months. Richard hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me.” She shook her head. “I know they won’t let him write to me, and they won’t let him call me. But if he really loved me …” Her words drifted off in the air.

Susan sat on the edge of the bed.

“Jess?” she asked. “Jess, I’m sorry about the kitten. Can you forgive me? Please?”

Miss Taylor got up. “Perhaps you two should talk this out,” she said, and quietly left the room.

“Jess, please. I didn’t mean to do it. I was in such a hurry. I never saw the kitten.”

“Didn’t you hear us scream at you?” Her words were cold.

Susan brushed back her long hair. “No. No, I didn’t. I guess my mind was elsewhere.”

“It usually is,” Jess said. “You never pay any attention to the rest of us, anyway. It’s like you wish we didn’t exist.”

Suddenly Susan felt overpowered with guilt. Here she sat beside this frail, gentle girl, a girl who had obviously
had everything in her life but love. For all the conflicts Susan had with her parents, she knew she was loved. They loved her, and her grandmother loved her. And David. David had loved her. Jess had never mentioned anything to her about her home life, but Susan had guessed there were problems there. The kitten had seemed to be such a childish thing. Yet Jess had loved it. And what was more, it had loved Jess back. Now, in Susan’s haste to think only of herself, she had snuffed out that life, and that love. She dropped her face into her hands and cried. Cried for the kitten, cried for what she had done, cried for Jess, cried for David.

Susan felt a slender arm around her shoulders. “Susan?” Jess whispered. “Susan? Please don’t cry.”

But Susan couldn’t stop.

“Susan, please. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t mean to say those things.” Her voice was tentative, as though she was a little fearful as to how Susan would react.

Susan lifted her head and looked at Jess. “I don’t want to be here,” she said. “I don’t want to be pregnant, and I don’t want to be here. It’s not that I don’t care about any of you. It’s just that I haven’t let myself think about you. I’m so much older than the rest of you, I should have it all together, but I don’t. I’m a mess.”

Jess smiled. “It’s okay, Susan. Really it is. But it might be easier on all of us if we tried to get through this together.”

“You’ll hear from Richard, Jess,” she said. “I know you will.” Susan put her face back in her hands and cried again.

Jess moved closer to her and tightened her arm around Susan’s shoulders. Then she started rocking Susan, slowly, calmly, back and forth.

Ginny

As soon as she saw Susan start to cry, Ginny split. This crap was getting a little too heavy. So the kitten got killed. So big deal. It wasn’t so cute. She retreated to her pink-and-white bedroom and flung herself on the bed. Jesus, she’d almost lost it there for a minute with Jess. She had actually put her arm around her. She had actually
felt
something—was it sympathy? Caring? Shit. This place was definitely getting to her. Time to move on. She touched the lump of her stomach. Four more fucking months.

Ginny reached over the edge of the bed and picked up one of the movie magazines scattered on the floor. She flipped through the pages.
Four more fucking months, then L.A., here I come. But until then
 …

She threw the magazine back on the floor.
Got to do something. Got to have some action. Got to get away from these girls
.

Ginny jumped off the bed and went to her closet. The Dew-Drop-Inn. A pretty pathetic place, but at least it was out of here. She rummaged through the mess and pulled out a denim miniskirt and a rumpled gray sweatshirt with
M.I.T
. emblazoned in burgundy across the front. M.I.T. Shit, why had she ever bought this stupid shirt? Her pulse began to quicken. That night came screaming back into her mind. That man. Her mother. The torn dress. The shouting. The pain.