by Amy Stewart
They followed Miss Pittman into a small wood-paneled room with an examination table, several cupboards of instruments, and a shower room attached. “As soon as the nurse finishes her lunch, you’ll have a complete examination and a Wassermann test.” She gave Minnie another one of her foreboding looks, and Constance was obliged to bend over and whisper into the girl’s ear that it was a test for venereal disease.
“We only just started last year,” Miss Pittman said, as she handed Minnie a dressing-gown, “and it’s a good thing we did. Over half of the girls test positive.”
Constance felt Minnie’s fingers dig into her elbow. Miss Pittman noticed and said, “I’m sure you’re eager to get back on the train, Miss Kopp.”
“I’ll stay until the nurse comes,” Constance said. The least she could do was to see Minnie through the examination. Miss Pittman didn’t seem to like it, but she spun around on her heel and left them alone.
27
WHEN THEY WERE ALONE, Minnie said, “Why on earth would they think I have a disease?”
Constance perched on the edge of the examining table and told Minnie to sit next to her. The girl sat perfectly upright and kept her eyes fixed on the wall opposite. She couldn’t look at Constance.
For all of her bravado, Constance saw the truth. There had been other men. Of course there had.
She gave Minnie’s shoulder a hard squeeze and the girl turned to face her. “Before the nurse comes,” Constance said, “isn’t it time you told me the truth? You have good reason to be worried about this test, don’t you?”
Minnie sniffed and tossed her hair around. “Tony ought to be worried about a test. When does he take his?”
Constance had to admit that she didn’t know. In truth, no mention of such a thing had ever come up at the jail.
“I won’t tell the prosecutor,” Constance said. “I won’t tell the sheriff. But is it true what Detective Courter said? About the men going in and out of the place?”
Minnie shrugged Constance’s arm off her shoulder and walked around the room. “Tony stopped coming over,” she said. “There was never anything to do or anywhere to go. Half the time, I didn’t have any supper at all except what the baker downstairs would give me. It was no kind of life. You wouldn’t have stood for it, either.”
“And you found someone who had a better kind of life on offer?”
“Some—a few. It was nice to have somebody buy me dinner. Is that a crime?”
Constance didn’t bother to answer. This was worse than anything John Courter had implied. “Do you mean to say that Tony didn’t coerce you into it? He didn’t bring those men around?”
Minnie stared at her, puzzled. “Tony? Why would he? They took me to restaurants, Miss Kopp. To the moving pictures.”
“And sometimes they came up to your room?”
Minnie crossed her arms over her chest and stayed stubbornly silent.
“Are you telling me that Tony didn’t . . . arrange for any of this?”
“No! Of course not. He never knew.” She didn’t bother to tell Constance about the night Tony found out. There wasn’t time and, anyway, none of it mattered now.
Constance couldn’t bear to look at her. Carrie had guessed at the truth, even when Constance hadn’t wanted to believe it. She let her eyes drift over to the door as she said, “You understand the difficulty this poses. With your case.”
“But you’re not going to tell anyone!”
She forced herself to look at Minnie. “That’s right. I’m not. Only . . . I don’t know how to get you released. If a judge finds out that you invited these men . . . well, that’s exactly why they put girls in a place like this.”
“But I —”
They were interrupted at that moment by the nurse, a sturdy, broad-shouldered, flat-footed woman with the expression of someone who had confronted many a crying girl in her examination room.
“I’m Nurse Porter, dear, and you’re here for a quick examination.” Her voice was low and level. The nurse put a hand on Minnie’s arm, but she shook it away. All at once Minnie had the look of a trapped animal about her. Constance backed up against the door to make sure she wouldn’t run.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Nurse Porter said. “You’re going to go up onto this table, and I’m going to examine you to make sure you’re not going to have a baby.”
“A baby?” Minnie glared at the nurse. Her hair fell limp around her shoulders. “Is that what you think of me?”
Neither Constance nor the nurse answered. With some difficulty the nurse persuaded Minnie to disrobe and to wrap herself in the white gown. She did as she was told, then sat sulkily on the table while the nurse turned to her cabinet of instruments.
When she had gathered a metal tray together, Nurse Porter came over and took Minnie’s arm.
“Now, Miss Davis. I’ll be so very quick, and you’ll have all the answers in no time. I know how everyone dreads a blood test, so we’ll do that bit first, and then you can relax. How does that sound?”
She spoke in a reassuring voice, but Minnie only stared straight ahead and didn’t answer.
“I want you to hold your arm out like this,” the nurse said.
Constance kept her eyes on her shoes until Minnie yelled about the needle and it was over.
“That’s all,” the nurse whispered. “There’s nothing more to fear. I’m just going to have a look at you now.”
Minnie rubbed her bandaged arm and sat up on the table. “Go ahead and look.”
Nurse Porter chuckled at that. “Is your bladder quite empty, dear, or do you need the toilet?” she asked.
Minnie shook her head.
“That’s fine,” the nurse said. “It makes the examination easier if you’ve already gone, that’s all.”
First Nurse Porter opened her mouth wide, inviting Minnie to do the same. She grumbled about it but dropped her jaw open.
The nurse probed the roof of Minnie’s mouth and looked around the lips and gums. “I see no sores of any kind. That’s a very good sign. Now, if you’ll lean back on the table and put your legs just so.”
Nurse Porter reached down to the side of the table and lifted two metal stands. Minnie stared at them. “My feet are meant to go in those? But —”
All at once, she understood. She looked at Constance in shock. Constance had never seen such a thing, either, and couldn’t imagine putting herself in such a position in front of a nurse—or, for that matter, in front of anyone at all.
Minnie had a great deal of trouble maneuvering herself into the necessary position, but it was brought about somehow, and the nurse draped a sheet over her and worked in quick and competent silence. In a low voice, she inquired about the girl’s menses, about any episodes of illness or stomach upset, and about the last time she’d seen a man on an intimate basis. Minnie gave only one-word answers, devoid of any emotion.
“No tenderness or swelling of the breasts,” the nurse said, mostly to herself.
After a surprised yelp from Minnie, Nurse Porter added, “No enlargement of the uterus. Cervix is pink and healthy. No unusual secretions or sores.” With that, the examination was over. Minnie’s legs went back down on the floor and she sat upright, wearing a stunned, blank look.
Nurse Porter wrote a few things down in a ledger-book and came around to the side of the table to address Minnie directly. She held a white card in her hand. Constance couldn’t see what was printed on it.
“You did just fine, Miss Davis. I see no reason to believe that you are going to have a child. The Wassermann test takes longer. Deputy Kopp will be told the result. Now we must talk about what comes next.”
“Next?” Minnie said. “I thought it was over.”
The nurse cleared her throat and said, “I’m going to tell you how to conduct yourself so that you need never have these worries again.”
“Oh,” Minnie said, slumping over. “I know how to conduct myself. But there isn’t much trouble to be had in here anyway, is there?”
<
br /> “Well, you’ll be out of here someday, and you must know. The state physician has written a statement that he wishes read to every girl admitted to a New Jersey reformatory. You are to listen carefully.”
“Go ahead.”
The nurse held up the card and began. “If you were to ever have any sort of relations with a man again, a child is the almost certain outcome. Do you understand?”
Minnie nodded but couldn’t bear to look at Nurse Porter, who continued, “If you are so unfortunate as to give birth to an illegitimate child, you would be almost certainly forced to put it away in an institution of some sort, only to hope and pray that it may die soon—and generally, they do. If it does not die, the existence of that child would forever hang over your head like the sword of Damocles and you’d live with the constant terror of being found out. Please nod and let me know that you’ve heard.”
“Oh, I heard,” Minnie returned.
Constance couldn’t catch a breath herself. The nurse couldn’t have known that she herself had once been prepared to abandon a child to an institution. She’d never once thought, much less hoped, that the baby could die. Something froze inside of her at the thought. She looked over at the nurse, who was standing, grim-faced, with her eyes fixed on the card.
“A venereal infection could cost your health and even your life. If you were to have a child, the infection would almost certainly ruin the child, and this says nothing of the disease’s spread. Any man who would pursue an unmarried woman is almost certainly already infected himself. You are to refrain from all intimate relations with men, including vigorous kissing. Don’t even share a handkerchief with a man. Have you heard every word I said? Tell me yes.”
“I don’t have any choice but to hear,” Minnie said.
The nurse raised an eyebrow at her but continued. “An illicit experience won’t just endanger your health, but also your social standing, and your chances of ever marrying or establishing a home. It will condemn you to a life of loneliness. Remember that marriage and love are a woman’s whole life. A small minority of women might claim that other pursuits are just as fulfilling, but win their confidence and they will admit to unhappiness and dissatisfaction. A woman who lives without love and marriage is a failure. You don’t want that for yourself, do you, Miss Davis?”
“I don’t suppose it matters what I want,” Minnie said.
Constance couldn’t stand another minute of this. “Thank you, Nurse. The state physician has made himself heard.”
If Nurse Porter disagreed with any of the sentiments she’d just read, she didn’t let on. She put the card away and said, “I’ll let you two say good-bye. Miss Davis, stay in your dressing-gown and I’ll be back with a uniform.”
28
NOW THEY WERE TRULY out of time. Minnie sat on the examining table with her arms wrapped around her knees. “How long are they keeping me here?”
“Until your trial.”
“And then I’ll be right back here.”
Constance sat down next to her. “I’ll do everything I can. The sheriff wants me to go and speak to your parents again.”
“But why? You know how they are.”
“They might read about the press conference in the paper. I want them to know that —” She stopped herself, as she’d planned to go back to Catskill to tell them that the accusations against Minnie weren’t true. Instead she said, “I want them to know where you are, in case they’d like to write a letter.”
“They won’t.”
“If I can find someone who might take charge of you, I still have some hope of getting you released. Isn’t there anyone?”
“I told you before. There isn’t.”
“And what about this landlord who claims to have seen men going in and out of your room?”
Minnie felt something clutch at her insides. “What about him?”
“If I go and speak to your landlord,” she said, lowering her voice to match Minnie’s, “what will he tell me? Be honest, now.”
Minnie raced through the events of that night. At last, she could give an answer that was both true and useful. “He’ll tell you that he saw Tony’s brother there once.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“And why would Tony’s brother have been there?”
Minnie pressed her lips together. How many brothers did Tony have? She didn’t even know. Finally she said, “He came to speak to Tony. They were arguing over something. One of them owed the other money. I don’t even remember who started it.”
Constance watched her for a minute. Minnie could hardly stand the scrutiny.
“Well, I hope that’s all there is to it. I’ll speak to your landlord and make sure that’s his story. If it is, the prosecutor won’t have any evidence of . . . of that sort of wrongdoing to use against you. But, Minnie —” Constance reached over and took the girl’s chin, forcing her to look up.
“I’m listening. You don’t have to make me look at you.”
“Are there any other witnesses? Anyone who might come forward and claim —”
“No!”
Constance pressed on. “What I mean to say is this: Might the prosecutor find any of these men? Might he compel them to testify?”
Minnie had to think about that for a minute. How would anyone ever know?
“No. Anyway, why would they admit to it? Then they’d have to go to a reformatory.”
No, they wouldn’t.
Constance couldn’t bring herself to say it, but she knew it to be true. The nurse knocked at the door and Constance said, “Please, Minnie. Be a good girl. If you get any kind of a bad report while you’re in here —”
“I won’t.”
Minnie clearly wasn’t in the mood for a sentimental good-bye. Constance brushed past the nurse and strode outside. Once she was free of the place, she practically ran for the train.
29
MINNIE HAD BEEN given a bed squarely in the middle of the dormitory, which meant that no matter which way she turned, a girl was eyeing her from the next bed. At last she rolled onto her stomach, pulled the blanket over her head, and tried, without success, to push away the memories of those last few weeks in Fort Lee when everything went wrong.
Could anyone blame her for being lonely? Even before Christmas, Tony had stopped coming around as much. She could see that he’d grown bored with her—and if she wanted to admit the truth, he’d probably lost interest after that first night. She knew as soon as she met him that Tony liked to have a good time with girls but wasn’t about to settle down with one.
Still, he did help her, by signing his name to the lease and passing her off as his wife. He came around often enough to make the story look plausible to their landlord, and carried the rent money downstairs himself once a month, even when he contributed so little to it. Apart from that, Tony showed little interest in taking up with Minnie on any sort of permanent basis.
What did that matter? There were other men. Minnie soon found that the Park Avenue boys who came up to Catskill for the summer weren’t any different from the dentists and lawyers of Fort Lee. They just wanted a little company.
That explained the man with the crinkly smile waiting outside the jute mill that day. He was a salesman with a new line of gaskets and belts on offer. He’d just paid a call at the mill and was wondering where he might find dinner when Minnie bumped into him.
He delivered his line easily, about Minnie looking like a girl his sister used to know. Minnie, for her part, happened to know a nice quiet restaurant at the edge of town. So it began.
In this way, Minnie got by. It wasn’t too different from anything she’d done in Catskill. None of the town girls thought anything of accepting a dinner or theater tickets from an admirer, and why should they? They hadn’t a dime of their own. How else were they to meet anyone, or to entertain themselves? Their mothers had antiquated ideas about dances and church socials, which didn’t cost a thing as long as you had a dress and a dance card, but nob
ody did that anymore. People went out in public for their entertainment. Entertainment cost money. Boys had money and girls didn’t—especially in Catskill, where the girls’ parents insisted on keeping what little wages they earned at the mills. It was as simple as that.
Minnie didn’t go to bed hungry anymore, and sometimes she didn’t go to bed alone. She never invited a man upstairs the first time. She had her standards. She wouldn’t invite a young man of limited means—she had one of those, in Tony, and didn’t want another—but he couldn’t be too old, either. If there was anything the least bit fatherly about him, she couldn’t bear the idea. She would let him buy dinner and give him a kiss when he presented her with a little bundle of steak and rolls to take home. But a man with a little gray around the temples, a man who probably had a daughter himself at home—a man like that couldn’t come upstairs and put his hands on her. He couldn’t.
As it happened, though, that left plenty of men who could. Young men of twenty-three with their father’s money in their pockets. Men in their thirties with their name on a door-plate somewhere, and a secretary who looked a little like Minnie (or so they said), and an automobile that took them right out into the countryside, anytime it wasn’t too terribly cold for a drive—men like that could come upstairs, and she was glad to have them. They banished her loneliness, they pushed away the emptiness, they lit her up like a candle. In their company she felt whole again, and splendidly alive. With each one of them she could see, for just one night, a different version of herself, another future in front of her, a day when contentment and satisfaction never left her. They had that to offer, however fleetingly, and she took it.
She loved to see how large they looked, in their suits and coats, turning around in her shabby little room, wondering aloud how she managed to keep body and soul together in a place like that. Some of them brought her gifts: bracelets, perfume, stockings, and she was always delighted, and never thought twice about accepting them.
She couldn’t wear the jewelry—Tony would notice eventually, and it would furnish him with the perfect excuse to skip out on her for good—so she wrapped those gifts in a handkerchief and kept them hidden under her mattress until that morning the police knocked on the door. She wondered if anyone had discovered them yet, tucked between the boards in the bathroom ceiling. She wondered how long it would be before she could retrieve them, and how much money they would fetch.