While he pondered what he might do, Deirdre came home one afternoon after school. She was in her senior year. As soon as she got inside, she yelled, “Ma, ma, where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen. What’s all the excitement?” Christine watched Deirdre’s joyful face, looked at her beautiful daughter, her bosom having reached the size it would be in womanhood, her long, slender legs, thin ankles below her skirt, her full height of five foot seven. By now Deirdre had experimented with her body, knew how to please herself, often did when she knew her parents would not be in the house or would think she was just studying in her silent room.
“Ma, Kevin sure did break out of his shell last year. He invited me out again to a movie Saturday night. It’s O.K. isn’t it? But,” and she smiled, “you know, I helped him along,” she laughed. “Oh, ma, being a woman, well almost, it’s such fun. You know, swishing your hair, glancing, walking with a sway or standing with a hip out.”
“Deirdre!”
“Well it’s true, isn’t it? You probably did it with dad.” Suddenly both mother and daughter’s faces flushed. Seeing her mother’s expression, Deirdre wanted to laugh and somehow hide her expression.
Christine decided she did not have to lecture her daughter. With a face and body like hers, she was right, and when the time came, she’d have whomever she wanted. But she had to say something. “You watch yourself. I shouldn’t have to remind you. Boys are aggressive in their own way, and if you match them, they’ll think . . . .”
Deirdre interrupted. “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t you worry about me. But, mom, he’s handsome, taller than I am, and when he looks a little down at me, I just love it. How he ever broke out of his shell is beyond me. You like him, don’t you?”
“Yes. When he’s come here, he’s been such a gentleman. It’s obvious he likes you. Has he thought of what he wants to be?”
“He talks about a journalist, lawyer, doctor. You know he works on the school newspaper and writes stories for the magazine. But he told me he’ll go in the army after next year ends. He’ll probably be drafted. He’d be so handsome in a uniform.”
“Don’t talk that lightly about the war – all those young men being killed, maimed.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I’m thinking I’ll become a WAAC or WAVE.” At this time, neither knew she had to be twenty-five, an age that would change to twenty when WAAC become WAC in 1943.
It had never occurred to Christine that Deirdre might consider going in the service. She was to go to college. She was the top of her class. That mind couldn’t be wasted.
Christine wanted to protest, her face growing red. She decided not to fuss about that now, despite the stories she had heard of the looseness of the women and that many were prostitutes that joined. There was time yet.
Not long after the conversation, Kevin drove to the Cunningham farmhouse in his father’s 1941 Packard, the last of that model made after the war started. His father, being a doctor, had a C sticker for gasoline. So it was, Kevin’s father would allow his son to drive at night, as long as he replaced the gasoline with money from Kevin’s part-time job. His father had insisted on Kevin finding out what it was like to work and earn and save. Moreover, his father had an older car that he could use if there were a night call. If Kevin wanted to make an impression on a girl by using the family car, his father was nice enough to let him take it. His father laughed to himself, while telling his son he should have a pleasant time. Too, the family had met Deirdre who appeared to be a nice girl. Like everyone else, his mother and father admired the girl’s beauty and her intelligence. Perhaps it was just a high school crush, and they would probably go to separate schools. Kevin was bound for Harvard, like his father before him – if the war did not take him away before. Dr. and Mrs. Harrelson deeply worried about that. Already they had another son fighting in the Pacific who had had to leave college when drafted near the start of the war. So Kevin could make his impressions and enjoy himself as much as possible in the uncertain world.
Kevin liked the Cunninghams who always treated him almost as a family member. Christine had always wanted a son, but with Deirdre’s birth, that became impossible. She remembered the hemorrhaging, the unbearable pain, the tear. Often, not long after, she felt as though her body had deserted her. There would be no other children.
When Kevin entered, both Edward and Christine were in the living room.
“Well, Kevin,” asked Edward, “where are you off to tonight?”
“There’s a great movie in Rockland, ‘Shadow of a Doubt,’ with Joseph Cotton and Teresa Wright, an Alfred Hitchcock show. I’ve read some great things about it. It may,” he hesitated, “scare Deirdre a little. I don’t know. She’s something. Brave, you know, Mr. Cunningham.”
Edward smiled. “You mean Deirdre’s a girl and things frighten them more.”
“Well, not that. Oh, I know she’ll like it. We talked about it when I asked her out. She likes Joseph Cotton, told me how handsome he is.”
“Well, here she is now, Kevin.”
Deirdre walked slowly down the stairs, her black hair curling just above her shoulders, a little lipstick Christine allowed her to use. She purposely moved to show her legs, enjoying the feeling of her satin-lined skirt against them as she stepped down, watching the expression on Kevin’s face, his eyes staring at her legs and up to her breasts pointed visibly in her sweater. He seemed unaware it was the bra style. He tried not to stare, remembering he was with her father and mother.
“Hi,” was the little she said.
“Hi back. You look wonderful, Deirdre.” Kevin’s face colored.
“Thank you.”
“Well, don’t get home too late,” Christine said, raising her eyebrows, signaling a warning Deirdre understood.
“We won’t,” they answered in unison.
The first time they went out, he had driven to a parking spot overlooking the water and where most of the students went. He had tried to kiss her and move his hands to her body, but she stopped him. When he took her home, however, he decided he was going to kiss her goodnight. She did expect it and let him. They held on to one another for a bit until she felt she should stop. It seemed sudden, but they both liked it. She thought of what she would do when he took her there tonight. She had never allowed anything except kissing.
In the movie, they held hands. They always held hands when they walked outside. They talked about school, people they knew, the war. The girls would gather about her, asking what he was like. They told each other stories about the boys they went with, what they did. What it was like kissing and being felt. No one ever admitted going further. Protecting virginity was ingrained. If any one of them did lose hers, she would not tell the others, afraid of being ostracized as loose, or worse, a whore and unmarriageable. It did happen to one girl, because the boy who impregnated her bragged to his friends how they did it. Her life became misery. She shied away from everyone and always sat by herself, except for Deirdre who felt sorry for her, befriended and even admired her for allowing her body its freedom to enjoy itself, to satisfy her perhaps. Deirdre did not care what the other girls or boys thought about their friendship. Deirdre had an inherent independence. No one dared confront such a formidable girl.
As the movie became more intense, when Theresa Wright begins to question Cotton’s appearance at her parents’ home, Deirdre tightened her hand in his, her nails digging into his palm. Kevin placed an arm over her shoulder. They glanced at one another. “Good, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yup, but somewhat scary.”
“Oh, nothing scares you,” he whispered.
She smiled and started to place her hand on his cheek but stopped herself.
When the movie was over they went for a soda.
“What a horrible ending,” Deirdre told him.
“Yup. But he deserved it.”
“He did,” and she stopped. What would it be like to think you were going to be killed? Ugh. Ugly. Don’t t
hink about it.
“Want to go for a ride after we finish our drinks?”
“Sure,” she mumbled from the side of her mouth as the frappe filled her straw. She perked up. “Yes. Let’s go for a ride, keep the windows down and feel the fresh air. We need it after that.”
They enjoyed riding around. Without asking he drove to the parking spot. “Want to stop?”
Deirdre did not answer. She wanted to but would not admit it to him, just accepted it as natural. Besides, she was anxious for his kiss, to kiss him back, to feel its warmth and the closeness of their bodies. She did like him, liked the car for its spaciousness, the feel of the seat and the smell that was partly from his father’s pipe. There was that maleness about the car that appealed to her, even excited her, a car into which she could settle comfortably, imagining what it would be like if they ever married and had one like this, even a large house, Kevin a famous doctor.
They kissed several times, Deirdre growing warmer with each touch of lips, the feel of his tongue and her reciprocation, the slipping of tongues’ tips against one another. She began to feel an excitement flowing through her body. “It makes me sizzle,” she whispered. Kevin laughed, then placed a hand on her breast that she started to take away but relented as he pressed one, then the other. He then pressed against her body. She felt his hardness against her thigh. She breathed deeply, felt still warmer from the scintillating touches, felt her belly tighten and the wetness begin as his hand moved slowly upward under her skirt as he reached for her opening. In spite of enjoyment, she grabbed his wrist, shouting, “NO! Cut it out.” Kevin quickly withdrew, softening some. “I think I love you, Deirdre.” She smiled and leaned back, lying across the seat. “We can’t do it.”
“Can I rub against you?” She didn’t answer, pulled him toward her thigh, again felt him harden. He started an up and down sliding as she turned on her side to allow and feel the movement against her thigh, her own wetness, feeling her nipples harden as he placed a hand on her breast, gently massaging its softness, the arousing stimulation throughout her body increasing. He breathed more deeply, made a slight moaning sound as she felt him tighten against her and then relax, still holding her. She kissed him, sat up in the angle between the door and the seat.
They talked some. She did ask him what it felt like. Without answering he pulled at her dress skirt and started to run his hand upward toward her breasts. “I’d like to see them.” She laughed. “You would? And what kind of girl would I be to let you do that?” Then, however, she reached to loosen her bra, allowing his hand to feel along the supple nakedness, she experiencing a tingle that darted between her thighs. She led his hand toward the nipples. “Easy.” He followed her instruction, feeling them harden as he himself did again.
“Would you like to feel mine?” he asked.
“Yes,” she murmured and reached down. “Oh. It feels so hard, like a branch.”
“Rub it.”
She hesitated but did as he said, slowly moving her hand up and down, feeling him tighten against her.
Suddenly she thought seriously of what they had done. “Do you think I’m loose?”
“No. We care for each other.”
Deirdre was uncomfortable, wanting to relieve herself but couldn’t because he would see her.
When they came to her house, she tightened her bra, looked in the rear view mirror and brushed at her hair, put on lipstick. She was scared and excited. She pulled him away from the porch light into a dark area where she leaned against the railing. Spreading her legs, she placed her arms about him, pulling him toward her and started her movement until he heard her stifle a low moan. After a pause to recover, she led him to the door where he kissed her, keeping away from as much light as possible. “I do love you, Deirdre.”
She hunched her shoulders at the sound of “love,” kissed him again. “You’re dear, Kevin.” It occurred to her before she opened the front door, the light being on in the hall, What would have happened if I let him do it. I wanted to. What would happen if he had made me pregnant? I did like it and wanted more. I’ve got to find out what it’s like. Should I tell him to get rubbers? No. He may talk about us. In the meantime. Oh, I don’t know. He would never tell his friends about us. But if my parents ever found out even what we did tonight. My face feels so hot. I hope they’re in bed.
She reached out to Kevin. “Come here. Do you really love me.”
“You know I do,” and she felt the warmth throughout her body and brought his head to hers and kissed him hard.
“Don’t talk about us. You won’t ever, will you?”
“No. I will never. It’s our business. When we’re done with school, go to college, we’ll never be apart, being at Harvard and Radcliffe. I promise. And promise me you’ll be mine,” he hesitated, “even if I go in the army. I guess I’ll have to. All the guys are being drafted. Well. At least I won’t have to go to Africa. We won there, despite the rotten Nazi Rommel.” He stopped, thought. “What if I were wounded? Would you still be here for me?”
“ Stop. I don’t want to talk about that. It’s horrible. Kiss me again and then I have to go in. I,” she wasn’t sure she should tell him. “I liked tonight. I feel so close to you.”
“Me too.” He turned and slowly walked down the steps, looked back at her as she watched him get in the car. Then she went inside, listening to the driving off, smoothing her skirt, again making sure everything was in place.
~
Toward the end of the 1942 school year, the principal, after a perfunctory meeting with faculty heads, announced that Deirdre Cunningham would be the class valedictorian. It was the first time in the school’s history that a female would have that honor. Women in the community were excited while the men, for the most part grumbled, “A girl. They got the vote and now they’re taking over everything.” They were ignorant that other girls in different parts of the country were gaining the similar honor. Too, they seemed to forget that a number of the marriageable single women or sweethearts of servicemen from the area had gone to work in factories and the shipyard in South Portland. They also occasionally forgot that President Roosevelt had appointed Frances Perkins from Maine to be his Secretary of Commerce. Oh, they were proud a Mainer had been chosen for the administration. Still, it was that Roosevelt in office. Despite the war, many in Maine still did not care for him, neglectful of his having helped them financially.
In Deirdre’s home, there was no negativism. Edward and Christine were as excited as Deirdre. They welcomed Kevin to the house with more enthusiasm and decided to have a party to which they would invite the Harrelsons. They were sad, as though he were their son, when they thought of him being drafted, that he could not go on to college as Deirdre would. They were proud. She had received a scholarship to Radcliffe. If the war only ended soon. But that was nonsense. There was too much happening in the Pacific and Europe for that to occur.
Edward had already decided that he would take funds from his meager savings so Christine and Deirdre could buy new dresses for the graduation. He was making more money because of the war and the vast need for food. He would deny his daughter nothing, being honored as she was. He had watched her a little as she sat at her desk writing her speech. It seemed he loved his daughter more because of the admiration she was bringing to the family.
“Deirdre,” he called.
“A minute, dad. I want to rewrite these few sentences.” She finished. “Yes, dad.” She went to the kitchen where her mother and father sat, watching the smile on their faces.
“Deirdre. I have part of your graduation present for you,” her father quietly told her. “I don’t suppose you can guess.”
It was unnecessary to say that. Deirdre had already decided she wanted a new gown that she would be able to show after taking off her white graduation robe. She had even decided that it should be lavender, were she lucky enough to get one. Already something was taking place in Deirdre’s mind. She was no ordinary girl. She was becoming a woman at eighteen and by t
he time she became twenty, she decided she would be studying and working toward social acknowledgement. How that would happen, she was not as yet sure. Too, she had not told her parents, though she and Christine had talked about it, she was going to enlist in the WAAC or the Women’s Flying Corps before the war was over, even if she had not been graduated from college yet. She would ask Radcliffe to delay her scholarship. Surreptitiously, she had already written to the college, asking what it would do if she were to leave Radcliffe to serve or work in a factory until the war was over. She watched the mail that came to the rural roadside mailbox to get anything before her parents. In fact, the letter came sooner than she thought. The Admissions Office praised her for her patriotism and told her when that time occurred, they would make a future decision that would depend on space and funds available. If she were a good student they would perhaps. It wasn’t the most satisfactory answer, but she would see what happened, regardless. There were many schools in the country that would be happy to admit her. With that inconclusive news, she would wait until Kevin was called up and then perhaps tell her parents. After all, she reasoned, women had their secret selves that other women might see through but not men. She had that self and the power that came with it, she was certain.
Such thoughts came to her as she drove to Rockland with her mother imagining what kind of dress she would find. A new bra would also be important to show off her body and her beauty. Fully grown, she would admire herself in the mirror at home, know she was beautiful, that she was desirable, always noticing how men and the boys at school looked at her, imagining their thoughts.
When they came to the clothing store, Deirdre dashed in, stepped back so her mother could go first. They picked over dresses, feeling them, looking at sizes and colors. ‘Here’s one, Deirdre,” Christine had stopped by a white one. “No, mom, I want lavender. It will show my color better.”
Our Seas of Fear and Love Page 15