“What’s that?”
“Don’t worry. It’s all quite common. I’ll tell you about these things tomorrow. I’ve got to hang up now.”
“I don’t think I can sleep,” Barbara said. She giggled.
“Masturbate,” Lois said. “It’ll help.” She hung up. Barbara hung up a full second later.
Martha stood with the phone in her hands for a few moments. She had been fascinated, outraged, and shocked, and it took her a few moments to sort out her reactions. She settled on anger and slammed the receiver back into its cradle. Then she headed up the stairs to Barbara’s bedroom.
Martha Gilbert lost no time making up her mind how she would handle this crisis. She forbade Barbara to leave her room, even to go to school. “First, I want you to sit here all day tomorrow and think about the things I have said; and second, I don’t want you to have any contact with that Lois Wilson until I straighten this out.”
Barbara could hardly speak. It was as though her mother had been right there all the time, as though her mother had been standing in the doorway of Lois’s room. She felt naked and dirty, but mostly she felt afraid.
“I told … you. I told you,” she said, her throat aching, “it was just a scientific experiment. That’s all it was.”
“You’re sicker than I think if you believe that. Thank God I found out about this when I did.”
Martha summarized the story quickly for Joe. She woke him up to tell him and he listened with his eyes half opened.
“Your daughter’s been playing sex games with that Lois Wilson and a boy named Bernie Rosen.”
“Sex games?”
“Who would have ever thought it? It goes to show you, you can’t trust any of them today, not even the ones with the high marks in school. What do you know about this Rosen family?” she demanded.
“I don’t understand.”
“What d’ya need translated, Joe?”
“Rosen family?” He wiped his eyes.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of this myself, just like I take care of all the important things.”
“What are ya gettin’ so nasty about?” She began to ignore him. “Barbara’s been involved in some kind of sex thing?”
“Go to sleep,” she said. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. Joe thought about getting up to go in and talk to his daughter. He stared at the closed bathroom door for a few moments, and then he shrugged and closed his eyes. It was all probably female problems anyway, he thought. He would let his wife handle it, whatever the hell it was.
Late the next morning, Martha Gilbert walked into Wilson’s Pharmacy. Dorothy was rearranging a new cosmetics display and Gregory was behind the pharmaceutical counter. Dorothy saw her, smiled, and approached.
“Isn’t this rain depressing?” Dorothy said without considering why Martha Gilbert looked so disturbed. “And we had so much last week.”
Martha looked around to be sure no one else was in the store.
“I couldn’t care less about the weather this morning,” she said sharply.
Dorothy stopped, the smile frozen on her face as her eyes filled with questions.
“You’re not feeling well, Martha?”
“No, I’m not feeling well, and I’m not feeling well because of what your daughter has been doing with my daughter. What she’s been making my daughter do, I should say.”
“I don’t understand. Lois?”
“Yes—Lois. If I hadn’t heard it all with my own ears, I might not believe it myself, but I assure you, darling, none of this is pure fiction.”
“None of what?” Dorothy looked to the back for Gregory, but he was still out of sight.
Martha Gilbert’s eyes became small with anger. She pressed her lips together hard and put her hands on her hips. Her pocketbook dangled from her right wrist.
“Your daughter, Lois, has been engineering some sort of sex game.”
“What?”
“That’s right. With a boy named Bernie Rosen. I’m not familiar with the Rosens,” she added parenthetically, “but that’s not the important thing.”
“You’ve got to be mistaken. Lois?”
“Yes—Lois,” Martha said, wagging her head a bit. “I heard them talking on the phone last night—after eleven thirty, I might add.”
“What did they say?” Dorothy was intrigued. She had nearly come to believe that her daughter was asexual. As far as she could tell, Lois had absolutely no interest in boys. They had never had anything resembling a mother-daughter talk about girl-boy relations. She knew Lois was well versed on the biological aspects of sex, probably more informed about them than she was, but she doubted Lois had any inkling of the emotional aspects.
“Apparently,” Martha began, looking around to be sure no one was in earshot, “apparently the three of them stripped naked and performed some … some experiments, as your daughter termed them.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” Martha Gilbert said.
“Greg. Greg, come out here.”
Gregory Wilson stood up and looked out at the store. Martha glanced at him and then turned away. She leaned lightly on one of the display cases.
“This thing’s given me some headache,” she said.
“I can imagine. Greg?”
“What’s up?” He walked out slowly. “Hello, Martha. Somebody sick?”
“Yes, your daughter.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Dorothy said. “From what you’ve told me, there was plenty of cooperation.”
“What’s this all about?”
“Martha tells me Lois has been organizing some sort of sex game with her daughter and the Rosen boy.”
“Lois?” Gregory smiled and turned to Martha Gilbert, who bit her lower lip.
“I told your wife how I found out. I happened to pick up my telephone last night and accidentally overheard a conversation between Barbara and Lois. It was all about this sex experiment your daughter’s creating.” The smile left Gregory’s face. “Now Barbara’s being punished. I’ve kept her home from school today and in her room. She’s not to have anything to do with your daughter after this. I thought about going to the school and talking to the principal.”
“Well …”
“But there’s no point to that. It’s not something that happened on school grounds. So I decided I would come down here and let you people know what’s been going on. If I might make a suggestion,” she added quickly, “I think you should tighten up your control of Lois somewhat. I’m aware of her brilliant school record, but …”
“This is really a surprise to us,” Gregory said. He looked at Dorothy, who was staring right through Martha Gilbert at this point.
“Yes, well, that might be because you’re losing track of her. I don’t expect Barbara to be Goody Two-Shoes, but …”
“We’ll get right on it,” Gregory said. “Thanks for coming down. I’m sorry about it.”
“That’s not the point,” Martha Gilbert said, feeling somewhat magnanimous. “I didn’t come here to extract any apology from you people. We all know what it’s like to bring up children today. I just thought I’d better let you in on all of it.”
“We appreciate it,” Dorothy said quickly.
“I mean, little kids have been known to play doctor and all that, but I think this has gone beyond that, and at their age …”
“We understand,” Dorothy said. “We’re not complete idiots.”
Martha smirked and nodded.
“The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All right,” Gregory said. “We’ll look into the matter, Mrs. Gilbert.” She caught his use of her formal name. “Thank you,” he added, punctuating the words with a definite finality.
Martha started for the front door and stopped. “Make sure you tell her to stay away from Barbara.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dorothy said. Both she and Gregory stood there loo
king after her.
“Well,” Dorothy said.
“I can’t believe it.”
“I can. What have I been telling you all this time? You heard her: sex experiments. It figures that Lois’s only relationship with a boy would be an experiment,” she added and went back to the display.
“I don’t know. It still could be something she’s exaggerating,” he said.
“You’ll have to find out.” Her assignment of the responsibility solely to him wasn’t lost on him.
“Me? Isn’t this more mother-daughter stuff?”
“With a normal girl, it would be. She’s beyond me. She’ll only start on something scientific and I won’t know what the hell she’s talking about. At least with you she can’t fabricate as much.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll find out about this after school.” He started back to the counter when a customer entered. He filled some prescriptions and went back to his inventory, but he couldn’t get the incident with Martha Gilbert out of his mind. He kept looking at the clock all day, impatient for the time when the first school bus would come rolling through the village. He made up his mind he would leave the store as soon as Lois’s bus appeared.
The incident and the relentlessly cloudy, rainy day depressed him. After a while, Dorothy’s “I told you so” looks annoyed him. He was ready to admit Lois was different; he was even ready to admit she was strange; but he couldn’t see himself admitting that his daughter was dangerous. After all, all kids did some sex experimentation.
The Gilbert woman had acted as though Lois were in total control, as if she had some kind of power over people. He began to wonder just how true that was.
Lois wasn’t surprised or in any way alarmed by Barbara Gilbert’s absence from school the day after the experiment. She was vaguely aware that Barbara wasn’t much of a student and had a poor attendance record, especially on rainy days. The dark gray morning sky depressed most of the students, who looked bleary-eyed and somnambulistic as they disembarked from the school buses. Lois, who kept to herself as usual, was all business in homeroom, organizing her homework and notes and arranging her day’s work. It wasn’t until her third-period class that she noticed Barbara wasn’t there.
“What happened to the other subject?” Bernie Rosen asked her at lunch. He put his tray down directly across the table and pulled up a seat.
“Other subject?”
“Barbara,” he whispered, “the other subject in the experiment. Isn’t that what you kept calling us?”
“Oh, Barbara. I don’t know. I spoke to her last night and she sounded OK then. I’m sure she just couldn’t get up this morning.”
“Do you think that’s a result of our experiment?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Of course not.”
“Well, when’s the next session?”
“I told you. I’ll let you know. I’ve got to wait for an opportunity when I have my house free.”
“What are you doing, Bernie, trying to make a deal for homework?” Bonnie Diller said as she passed their table. The girls behind her laughed.
“Ignore her. She’s just one of the Yahoos.”
“What’s a Yahoo?”
“A smelly, oversexed human creature. It’s a term that’s become synonymous with those ignorant elements of the population who have disdain for anything intellectual or beautiful. It comes from Gulliver’s Travels.”
“Gulliver’s Travels? I don’t remember that.”
“You probably only read Book I. There are other adventures besides the one with the small people.”
“How the hell do you know so much?”
“I read, Bernard.”
Bernie just shook his head and ate. Lois looked down at her book. He studied her for a few moments, recalling her naked body. She felt his stare.
“What is it?”
“Nothin’.” He smiled and she understood. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Perhaps Barbara wasn’t able to face you after yesterday.” She thought for a moment. “I really should have considered that possibility.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do, forget it?”
“Absolutely not. That would be self-defeating. Keep aware of all your reactions. I’ll want to know about them next time.”
“Jesus, what ya doin’, givin’ me a homework assignment?”
“In a sense.”
He smirked and ate faster.
“Why don’t we try to get some more subjects?” he then said, a smile breaking out again. “There are a number of possibilities I wouldn’t mind.”
“If we need anyone else … actually, one more male would be ideal.”
“Male? Who wants another male?” He looked around and then became quiet when Laurie Burack and Mona Saperstein sat down at their table.
“Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” Laurie said with deliberate, affected politeness, “but there doesn’t seem to be any other seats.”
“There don’t seem to be any other seats,” Lois corrected.
“That’s what I said.” The two girls looked at each other and laughed.
“Speaking of males,” Bernie said, ignoring them, “Mr. Oates stopped me in the hall just before.”
“Oh?”
“He wants me to try out for the spring play. Says he never gets enough males to try out. He’s always tryin’ to pick a play with more females than males.”
“Really?” Lois said, exhibiting only vague interest.
“Well, it’s his own fault,” Mona Saperstein said, wedging herself into the conversation. “Look at the plays he picks. Who the hell ever heard of this one? I can’t even remember the title, it’s so damn long.”
“What is the title?” Lois asked. She was curious now.
“Er, let me see,” Bernie said. “Er … The Effect of something on the Moon Gold, I think.”
“That’s not it,” Laurie said. “See, Mona’s right.”
“The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds,/’ Lois said softly.
“Hey, that’s it.”
“Figures she would know it,” Mona said.
“I’ve always been fascinated by the character of Matilda,” Lois said. It was more like a thought voiced aloud. “She’s the younger of two daughters. Almost pathologically shy, she has an intuitive gift for science. Her teacher encourages her to undertake a gamma-ray experiment with marigolds which wins her a prize.”
“Go out for it,” Bernie said.
“Lois?” Mona Saperstein said. Both she and Laurie started to laugh.
“I might just do that,” Lois said, glaring at them. They stopped laughing, their smiles quickly melting. “I might just do that,” Lois repeated, looking straight ahead.
The two girls eyed each other and stifled their giggles. They ate quickly, anxious now to finish and tell this news to others. Bernie studied Lois’s expression. He had never seen such an intense look on a person’s face before. Her eyes were so still. She looked as though she had stopped breathing. Her body looked frozen in its purpose; it was as though she had left reality and entered another dimension.
“Well …” he said. He looked down at his tray. “I gotta go.” He looked at the two girls, who were still working to control their giggles, took another quick look at Lois, who hadn’t changed expression, and got up. “See ya later,” he said. She nodded blankly and he was gone.
It was still raining at the end of the school day. The steady drizzle had become a downpour and the water ran down the rural highways, turning the roadside ditches into brooks of churning muddy waters. Lois had been unusually pensive during the last couple of periods. She saw the posters announcing the day and the time for play tryouts and she began to consider seriously the possibility of doing it. She recalled the times she had read the play and thought about her favorite scenes. She identified with that girl; she understood her scientific appetites. She was positive she could perform the part better than anyone else. She just might do it, she thought, she just might.
As soon as she got home, she located her copy of the play and began to reread it. She was intensely concentrating when Billy arrived home from elementary school. His voice and his questions were exceedingly annoying to her now.
“You wanna play somethin’?”
“Absolutely not. Go do your homework.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Well, don’t hang around here bothering me. Go … go look for some more worms.”
“Now? It’s raining.”
“That’s the best time to look for worms, stupid. The rain draws them out.”
“But … will you tell?”
“If I were going to tell, would I suggest you do it? Where’s your sense of logic, for God’s sake?”
He thought for a moment. “OK,” he said.
She was so happy to see him leave that she didn’t bother to check on what he wore. That wasn’t important now. Nothing was important now. Just Marigolds. She could do this, she thought. She could do this.
6
As Gregory turned off Main Street, the rain came down in undulating sheets, pounding the roof of his car and making it impossible to see out the windshield, despite the quickened pace of the wipers. He pulled to the side and waited it out until it let up enough for him to continue safely. But when he came to the driveway of his house, the rain increased again. Just as he stopped, he caught sight of his son crouching under the old maple tree to the left of the house.
“What the hell …”
He rolled down the window so he could shout, but the rain attacked with such intensity he had to wind the window up again. He cursed and pounded on his horn.
When Billy heard the car, he instinctively drew his can of newly collected worms closer to him. He debated whether or not he should run for the house. The rain was streaming over the brim of his rain hat and his hands were muddied by the wet earth he had been uncovering. The old overcoat was soaked through. His forehead and cheeks were streaked with dirt because he had been continually wiping his face to clear it of rain. His shoes and socks were soaked and the bottom of his pants was dripping wet.
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