On the first day, when they were assigned seats, Miss Curtis separated Deirdre from her friends. That was enough to anger Deirdre. But she soon got to know one of the girls and a boy that had a handsome face she liked. He was very quiet and caused little trouble in the room, was not always whispering or acting foolishly like the other boys. Miss Curtis rarely had to discipline him. Deirdre would like some wildness. She found that in another boy and a few of the girls. The girls would always gather at recess by themselves, talk about what home was like, what they wanted to do. Deirdre once ventured even at her age to tell the girls what she wanted to look like when she grew up. The others thought that was silly and were horrified but laughed when she talked about breasts. Most of them had seen their mothers’ breasts either by sneaking a look when their mothers dressed or being allowed in their mother’s room when she prepared for the day. But that didn’t happen often and none of the other girls talked about it. That would come later. But Deirdre. She was brave, and they made her their leader. Anyhow, what difference did it make what they talked about? It would be a long time before growing up would happen.
Naturally, the boys chased them. One even grabbed at Deirdre’s hair and pulled her to the ground. She shrieked, scratched the boy, managed to get hold of his arm and pulled him to the ground. Without thinking she rolled him over, she was so angry, spit at him, and got on top of him and started hitting him in his chest, once on his face. He could not get out from under her spread legs that she dug into the ground with her knees. The playground teacher, seeing the fight, grabbed Deirdre.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the obvious question.
“Leave me alone.” She tried to pull away.
“Girls don’t fight. You are supposed to grow up to be a lady.”
“He started it,” as the boy got up and rubbed at the dirt on his clothes.
“I was just joking with her, and she hit and spit at me,” he told the teacher in a whiny soft, hurt voice.
“Young lady, you come with me.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” She tried to pull back from the teacher.
“It was,” he mocked and smiled slyly, because she was being blamed.
If this is the way boys are, I’ll get them before they ever get me. I’ll teach them even better when I grow up. I’ll show them. Are all boys like him? There’s that good-looking one. He seems nice. Maybe they aren’t all alike. But I’ll find out.
“Come with me. Deirdre, isn’t it?” the teacher told her. “I’m taking you to Miss Curtis,” leaving the other playground supervisor to watch the children.
“I’m surprised at you, Deirdre. You’re such a good learner. Well, here’s another lesson for you to learn. When your mother comes for you, I’ll tell her what happened and will let her punish you. Don’t you ever let this happen again. You hear!” Her voice had risen, surprising Deirdre, scaring her. In class Miss Curtis’s voice was always so soft and pleasant, even when she was telling the children to behave.
“I don’t like fighting, Deirdre, and I won’t allow it. You hear? And a girl. That’s the worst.”
Deirdre unwittingly smirked.
“Get that look off your face. You’re a disappointment to me.”
Her tone and what she said hurt Deirdre.
“I’ll be good from now on. I promise.”
“Well, I’ll accept your promise, but I think tomorrow I won’t let you go out for recess. Between your mother and me,” her voice soft again, “I hope you’ll truly learn your lesson.”
I’ll be good when you’re looking. I promise me that. Grownups are so bossy.
It was during these primary school years during the Depression that arguments raged over what should be done. After Coolidge’s years and the 1929 Crash, came another well-meaning man, Herbert Hoover, who had gained recognition for his humanity during the Boxer Rebellion and for his help with World War I victims of that destructive apocalypse. However, in these times he displayed some apathy despite his willingness to stimulate the economy, primarily through the use of businesses he thought should contribute some of their assets for the benefit of the people. Businesses, however, still looked after themselves while prices, for example, for farm goods, fell. Still he denied farmers, such as Edward, help. Nor did his desire for a tariff and his belief in a balanced budget during these terrible times help. The country turned to Franklin Roosevelt, the patrician President who cared and knew what to do and how to calm the country as well as possible.
Deirdre was ignorant of what was happening to the country, although she often heard her parents whispering about how much they could spend and how fortunate they were not to have to abandon the farm like those farmers in the dry middle west where the land had turned to dust. Maine people were more independent anyhow. They did not vote for Roosevelt or want to take any of his government handouts. So people like Edward and Christine depended on neighbors, neighbors on one another.
It was during these years that grade school seemed to pass by slowly, because Deirdre was still under the influence of those demanding teachers, and sometimes she thought, even her parents. Her mother tried to soothe her when she was unhappy, as did her father but not as warmly. As she grew older, the years appeared to move a bit more quickly while she strained to become more like a woman. It was then her father seemed to be so weak when she listened to his complaining about business and lack of money. She thought of him as a chick, when he should, she believed, have reminded her of a rooster. Yet, she loved him, especially when he brought her sweets or an affordable toy or doll. Sometimes he would bring home a new board game that, as she grew older and could learn how to play, they would all enjoy together. These games would make the time pass and momentarily take her mother’s and father’s minds off the strain of their Depression finances.
Her mother, well, there were times Deirdre thought perhaps she could get along without her too. Yet, she loved her mother, the nice smell about her, the softness of her skin when she rubbed her fingers or hand along Deirdre’s face or arms. She was anxious to look and be more like her mother with the secret menstrual pads she kept and her ample breasts. One time she asked when she would have a period, like some of the older girls talked about, and grow up top like her mother. Too, her mother also protected her against her father’s anger, an anger that came slowly and only occasionally.
There was one day when her mother was in another part of the house and her father at the chicken coops, she decided to go into her parents’ bedroom. She looked about to be certain she was alone. She started opening dresser drawers. Inside one was a package unfamiliar to her. Each item was separately wrapped and round. She tore at the wrapping and unwound the long, soft, wrinkly object, laughed, and wondered what her parents did with it. It was like a balloon when she blew on it. She thought that was a treasure find and would take it with her when she left the room. Then she started for the closet and found coins in her father’s pocket that he had perhaps forgotten. She decided he knew nothing about them so she took those too and held them with the balloon. She thought her father would never remember them. Her error in leaving the room was the untidiness of the drawers she had gone through. Hearing her father’s steps, she sped out of the room and bumped into him at the top of the stairs.
“What’s you’re hurry, Deirdre? You have an appointment?”
“I have to get the bus to get my doll out of the hospital. She fell and hurt her head. I just got a call.”
Edward laughed. “You do have an imagination.”
As she ran down the stairs, he went to the bedroom, saw a bit of clothing stuck when the drawer had been closed. He also noticed the door to the closet slightly ajar. He went to the drawer that held the old, leftover condoms used when Christine could have become pregnant, saw the open package, then walked to the closet. He did remember the money, about fifty cents. That meant a lot to him in these terrible times. Obviously Deirdre had been rummaging, and that she took the money angered him.
Rather than a slow anger,
the idea of his daughter sneaking and “stealing” the money infuriated him.
A loud yell came from upstairs. “Deirdre! Where are you? Come up here!”
Deirdre heard but instead of going to her father she ran to the kitchen. Her mother wasn’t there. Oh, where is she? Mommy, save me. Oh rats. I don’t care. I’ll tell that mean father. Innocently – “Did you want me daddy? I’m coming,” her voice trembling. In her hand she still grasped the coins and the condom, squeezing harder. Suddenly it occurred to her to drop the coins on the floor, and she placed the “balloon” in the waist strap of her panties.
“Deirdrah. Come up here. Now!”
“I’m coming, daddy.” I’ll show him I’m not afraid. She forced a weak smile on her face. “Yes, daddy,” she spoke softly.
“What were you doing in this room and going through your mother’s and my things?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t lie to me. You were in here. You even took my money. Do you know how important even a little money is today? What do they teach you in school? Arithmetic, no?”
“I didn’t take any money. Oh. I did see some coins on the floor downstairs, near the telephone. You must have dropped them.”
“You’re lying and deceitful. You were also in the drawers.”
“I am not. You and mommy taught me to be honest, and I’m being honest.”
“You’re lying. I won’t stand for it. Come here,” he shouted.
Now she was scared. “I didn’t lie.” She began to cry.
“You not only lied, but you’re a sneak. Come here.” He moved menacingly close to her and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you touch me,” and she kicked at his leg but missed as he backed away and grabbed her skirt. Turning toward the dresser, he saw Christine’s hairbrush. “You will not do this anymore,” sat on the edge of the bed, dragging Deirdre with him and pulling her over his lap.
He hit her twice on her bottom, raised the brush again, watching her legs quickly moving up, down, listening while she wailed loudly. “Stop. Please stop. I won’t do it again.” By that time Christine had heard and was at the door. “Edward. Stop. What’s happened?”
“She’s your daughter. You teach her not to be a sneak and a thief.” He quickly told her what happened, his voice trembling with anger.
“Ed, just let her go. I’ll take care of the rest.”
While she listened, Deirdre smiled and cried at the same time. I’ll teach you, both of you when I’m older. I’ll teach everyone.
What she did not know was that her father’s anger came partly from his never having liked being a chicken farmer, with the mistake he had made in Aroostook County as a salesman, until he had come to wish he could be in the city where he could work in a business. Only now, with the Depression and businesses and banks failing and laying off more and more people, even that was beyond his reach. He and Christine had talked privately about his desire, but Christine begged him not to regret his choice of the farm, that at least they were not in a food line. Moreover, the country was the best place to raise Deirdre. She did very well in school, despite her complaints, and if her grades continued through high school she would hopefully get a full scholarship at a good college.
“I know I’m looking far ahead, Ed, but we have to think about her even more than ourselves.”
“I suppose you’re right, but she can’t rule our lives.”
“Don’t say that. She does not.”
“Well, there are times she’s such a sneak. How many times have I caught her? And her nastiness every so often.”
“Stop that. I won’t listen to it. So she’s bad once in awhile. Aren’t all children?”
“Yes,” he mumbled, subdued, thinking when Deirdre was older, though he did love her, she and her mother would be allies in household matters.
The years did pass, and in the seventh grade, Deirdre had her first period. The slight flow amazed her at first. She ran to her mother. “Mom, look what’s happening, my leg, I felt it getting wet.”
Christine smiled. “You’re becoming a grown up girl. Remember I told you it would happen every month when it came.” Deirdre was already showing her loveliness, her black hair that came to her shoulders and penetrating dark eyes, the long lashes. She was also tall for her age. Christine believed Deirdre would be a sought woman, that she might even be famous like the woman who appeared in the Portland Press Herald newspaper in 1929. The headline read: “Girl Wins U.S. Air Degree” followed by: “Elizabeth Kelly, 20 year old Los Angeles girl first graduated from . . . approved United States government flying school in California and probably the first of her sex in the entire nation.” Now that was something, considering that women were getting some recognition. Of course, they were still, for the most part, held to the home, kitchen, and children. But what Christine did not want for Deirdre was recognition such as the Japanese man studying here she read about in the same paper two days later who told reporters how he admired girls who sat on desks with their short skirts baring their knees. Besides that, they smoked. He liked that. “Not my Deirdre. She’d be a sought-after good girl. And if she wanted to fly or do anything that would bring her notice, as long as it was good, that was fine, along with being admired,” she spoke softly to herself.
By the time Deirdre was in ninth grade, she had learned coquettishness. In dance class, she had picked as her partner the shy boy about whom she wondered in the earlier grades, because he would rarely approach her but seemed always to be looking at her mostly in one of the classrooms where they sat opposite each other. In those earlier years, she would shake her long, dark hair, smile to herself, knowing he looked at her, she back and then turning away from him. In the school yard when the boys chased the girls, he would pretend to run after them, come close to her, smell her soap-scented hair, start to reach out to pull her, stop, and run away, causing her to laugh.
But in the ninth grade, the girls and boys sat separately at long tables. She would turn her head, shake her long, dark hair to attract him, and then they would look straight at one another. The dance class was the miracle. His voice was deepening; he was several inches taller than she. When they were told to choose a partner, both walked toward one another.
“Will you be my partner, Deirdre?”
“Oh yes, Kevin,” She hesitated. “I was hoping you’d ask me.” With that she smiled, listened for the music, placed her arm about his neck, feeling the somewhat smooth and muscular skin. She had wondered all this time what it would be like feeling a boy. She moved closer to him as he placed his arm about her waist. Her softness excited him. As good for both was being attuned to the rhythm of the music; they danced quietly, swayed, she daring to place her head close to his shoulder. Now she wore a faint perfume, or was it the soap she used? He did not want to take his head from her. Yet, when the music ended, she turned slightly before he took away his hand that inadvertently touched her breast. Stunned, not knowing she liked it, quickly he told her, “Excuse me. I didn’t mean that,” while still feeling in his memory its yielding softness. She looked intently at him, trying not to smile, “I know, but I like my partner,” she whispered.
After school, when she was with her mother, she excitedly told Christine about dancing. “And. mom, remember the boy I told you about before who was always so quiet – his name is Kevin – he’s my partner. Oh, he dances so good. We talked a little, but mostly it was just the dancing. I like him, mom.”
“Well you can like him, but remember what I’ve told you.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to say that. I know.”
She did know. That night, in her room, before she undressed, she watched herself in the mirror, smiled, shook her hair, raised her hand to her face ever so slightly, twirled and laughed. She also undressed in front of the mirror, watching her breasts that were becoming larger and shapely, touched them, remembering Kevin’s flush and the quickness with which he withdrew his hand. She pressed again, fondling her nipples to harden them, feeling the s
ensation radiating to her groin. She watched, talking to her image, encouraging it to increase its height. She was now almost five foot four. “You’re some girl, Deirdre Cunningham,” fluttering her eyelashes. “I’ll get him – or anyone. Kevin, watch it.” She then glanced down to the growing dark hair, lowered her hand gently, moved her fingers through the hair and what lay below, rubbed a little, feeling the tingle through her spine, wanted to continue but quickly withdrew her hand. That felt good. Not now. She hesitated, looked at herself again. I’m going to be beautiful. She started to lower her hand again but stopped. Coward. What am I afraid of? My mother coming in and seeing me? What if she did? I’d catch it good. I’ll find out.
~
By the middle of December of her sophomore year Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. The students talked excitedly about what might happen, heard that the Japs would invade the West Coast. They worried about bombings and later heard, as the school year ended, stories of German submarines off the coast of Maine. Near Portland they also heard that there were spies being landed. In fact, by her junior year, they read about cargo ships being torpedoed off their coast. In South Portland liberty ships were being built. There were wartime jobs now available. Edward thought of moving the family to South Portland where he would work at good pay in the shipyard. Even Christine would be able to work. They’d make more money, live better, and perhaps Christine’s dream of Deirdre going to college would come true. They would be able to pay for it on money they would save. But living in the city after all these years, how would that be? Exciting. Yet, he wondered, wouldn’t farming be just as important? The fighting men would need food, as would the people. Perhaps he could buy some cows for milk and meat. He and Christine had decisions to make.
Our Seas of Fear and Love Page 14