Leo the Lioness

by Constance C. Greene

  “That makes you a Leo then.” I couldn’t believe it. Somebody had goofed somewhere. This kid simply could not be a Leo.

  “If you say so.” What with Nina’s and his dialogue combined, this evening promised to be one of the most sprightly on record.

  Tiger was getting restless. He kept shooting his cuff to see what time it was. He had a corsage in a little box and he didn’t know what to do with it. I offered to put it in the refrigerator. He said No, he’d hold it.

  “I’m a Leo too,” I said.

  “Is that right?” He wasn’t listening. What is there about me that always makes boys look at their watches, shoot their cuffs, and not listen when I talk to them? What is this strange power I wield?

  Tiger looked at his watch again. Nina must not have read about how you’re supposed to be ready when your date gets to your house.

  “It’s the best sign in the zodiac,” I told him.

  He didn’t answer. Nina entered on a cloud of my mother’s Shalimar that made the eyes smart. Tiger knuckled his eyes for a couple of seconds and I thought it was the perfume until I realized it was his quaint way of indicating he thought she was gorgeous.

  “Wow!” he said.

  Nina smiled graciously. “Hi,” she said. “Have you met my father?” which was pretty dumb considering my father had been caged with the kid for quite some time.

  Then my mother came in and said “Please drive carefully” and “We’ll wait up for you,” both of which undoubtedly had Nina churning inside, but she was trapped with a male audience and all she could do was flash the ivories and press cheeks with my mother and father and also John, who was preparing another karate chop. My mother snatched him away just in time.

  “Well,” my father said when the car had pulled away.

  “Well what?” my mother asked.

  “How many years of this do you think you’re up to?”

  “This is just the beginning,” she said. “First Nina, then Tibb.”

  “Not me. You’ll never catch me going out with an ass like him,” I said.

  “Tibb!” my mother said. “Don’t let me hear talk like that again.”

  “Well, he is one,” I said.

  “One what?” John asked.

  No one answered.

  “Tibb is right,” John said. “He is an ass.”

  “John, it’s bathtime.” My mother took him by the hand and started up the stairs.

  Just before my father turned on the television, John’s voice came from the upstairs hall.

  “What’s an ass?” he asked.

  14.

  Nina’s and my bedroom is at the front of the house. I couldn’t get to sleep. It was hot and I left the door open to let in a breeze. It must be very exciting to go to a dance in a long dress with a boy. Even a boy like Tiger. Let’s face it, it must be very exciting, especially for the first time. Maybe it’s more exciting the second and third times, though. Then you’re more sure of yourself and are not suffering from a nervous stomach or problem perspiration or one of those.

  Also you would know what to say, how to make small talk, how to make a boy feel you’re interested in him. I have read plenty of articles telling girls what strategy to use to make boys like them. I have never read an article telling boys how to make girls like them. It makes me sore. How come they don’t have to exert any effort? What’s so special about the male sex that the female is always beating her brains out trying to get the fink to ask her out a second time? Suppose she had a lousy boring time the first date and she wouldn’t go out with him a second time on a bet? Just suppose.

  I find that thinking clearly this way is all very well when you are in bed in your own room. How it would work when you were actually out on a date is another matter entirely, of which I am aware. But it doesn’t do any harm to think things through before you are faced with them in actuality.

  I got up a couple of times and went to the window. Then I turned on the radio and listened to some music. The announcer said it was exactly twelve midnight. The witching hour. Nina’s dance was over now. My mother had told her to come right home. They’d had a big argument over it. Nina had said maybe Tiger would want to go out for something to eat after. My mother had said she thought they were going to be eating practically the entire time they were at Charlotte’s. Weren’t they having a catered supper dance?

  That wasn’t the same thing, Nina had wailed. “I mean, out for a hamburger at the drive-in or something like that.”

  In her deadliest, most final tone, my mother had said Nina was to be in by twelve-thirty.

  We shall see.

  I must’ve dozed because the next thing I knew the radio said it was twelve forty-five. I got out of bed and went to the head of the stairs. She wasn’t home yet. The lights were all on and the television was going and while I stood there, my mother came and looked out the front door.

  “If she’s not here by one, I’m going to call the police and see if there’s been an accident,” she said. She had already called Charlotte’s and found out they’d left. My father came out and put his hand on her shoulder. “She’s all right,” he said. “Nothing could’ve happened.” I went downstairs and sat in the living room very quietly so they wouldn’t tell me to go back to bed.

  At two minutes to one, the gravel in the driveway crunched violently. A car door slammed and I heard Nina racing up the steps. I guess old lover boy forgot his cool and wasn’t seeing her to the door. The car pulled out of the driveway so fast it must’ve sprayed gravel all over the grass. My father would have a cow. He was always picking gravel out of the lawn mower.

  “Where have you been?” my mother said. “I’ve been worried.”

  Nina got off one of her best wails. She wept and wailed and carried on so that I thought maybe she’d been raped. I have never known anyone who actually was raped but I’ve read plenty about it in the papers and have always been curious. I would like to question an actual participant as to the procedure.

  “What happened? What happened to your dress? Come in and sit down.” Nina tottered into the living room and lay down on the couch. She had aged about fifty years. It must’ve been some evening.

  My father handed over his handkerchief and Nina really let loose. No one could understand a word she said. Finally my mother said, “If you’re going to get hysterical, I’m going to call the doctor, I don’t care how late it is. Try to calm yourself and tell us what happened.”

  “The little fink threw up all over my new dress,” Nina said, loud and clear. “That’s what happened. He threw up all over the front of my new dress,” and then she started keening and practically beating her head against the wall.

  “Maybe he was coming down with a virus,” my mother said.

  “That was no virus,” Nina shouted. “The little fink was out in back of Charlotte’s house drinking beer. That’s what made him throw up. He was drinking beer like an alcoholic.”

  “Alcoholics don’t drink beer,” my father said. “How much beer did he have?”

  “Did Charlotte’s mother know about this?” my mother asked.

  “Did he throw up while you were dancing?” I wanted to know. That would be kind of interesting, having your date barf all over you and also all over the dance floor. That would make it an occasion never to be forgotten.

  “He didn’t throw up until I punched him in the stomach,” Nina said.

  I forgot to mention that Nina is very strong. When we were little, she was such a good fighter all the other kids were afraid of her. She could and sometimes did lick any kid on the block; boys included. She had powerful arms and also plenty of muscles. It is only in recent years that she has decided to soft-pedal her muscles. I can understand this.

  My father said, “Well, that’s as good a reason as any to throw up, I guess. You punching him in the stomach. He has my sympathy.”

  “He had all this beer to drink and he was trying to make out with me in the car coming home and he put his arm around me and so I punched him.”<
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  Nina’s eyes glittered, partly from tears, partly from rage.

  My mother said, “I’m sure the cleaners can make the dress like new.”

  My father shook his head slowly.

  “What do you know?” he said. “My little girl is able to take care of herself after all.”

  “They must’ve been some lousy jokes,” I said.

  “What jokes?” my mother and father asked.

  “The jokes you have a stockpile of handy to keep the boy from feeling angry at being rejected,” I explained.

  “Oh, those,” my father said weakly. My mother put her handkerchief over her mouth. Then Nina started to bawl again and my mother said she’d fix her a cup of tea.

  My father sat there looking sort of dazed.

  “Did any girl ever punch you in the stomach, Dad?” I asked him.

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, “I don’t think any did. Blackened my eye once or twice and smacked me over the head with a pocket-book but punched me in the stomach, no.”

  “You weren’t really trying, Dad,” I said.

  “I guess you’re right. If I had it to do all over again, though, I can tell you this, I’d do better.”

  My mother called from upstairs.

  “It’s late. Come on up to bed, you two.”

  15.

  John has this way of waking me up which is really unique. He stands beside my bed and puts one finger, that’s all, just one finger, lightly, on my big toe or my arm and waits quietly until I open my eyes.

  When I woke up the morning after the dance, John’s finger was on my right ear.

  I looked at Nina’s bed. She was still asleep. John does not wake Nina this way. He does not wake Nina at all. He knows better.

  He smiled at me. “Hello,” he said.

  I would have liked to go back to sleep for a while but I told him I would get dressed and be right down.

  Only the top of Nina’s head stuck out from under the blanket. Her hair looked sort of like a dandelion gone to seed. She had put some more streaking stuff on it and the sun had bleached it more and dried it out. She would have to put some mayonnaise on it to condition it. It is very good for the hair, even if sort of a disgusting idea.

  John and I went through the refrigerator and got out some leftovers because Count was at our back door. Count lives next door. He is a Labrador retriever who is quite old but has a lot of dignity. He swims very well, even at his age. He is always hungry. I hope my mother didn’t have any plans for those leftovers, as Count plainly enjoyed them. Then John put a lanyard around Count’s neck and his hat on Count’s head and we just sat there looking at the trees and not doing anything much. John and I are very peaceful together.

  Unless he is trying out his karate chops, that is.

  I heard someone moving around the kitchen. It was Nina, looking sorrowful and ancient. I felt sorry for her. I realized it had been a very long time since I had felt sorry for her. Since I had felt sorry for anyone but myself, if you want to know. It was sort of a nice feeling, to feel sorry for someone else.

  She asked me if I wanted to split a bacon sandwich with her. I said Sure. My gosh, it had been ages since she had offered to split anything with me.

  “The thing that gets me,” she said suddenly, “was that I thought he was so nice. I didn’t think I could be that wrong about a human being.” Nina prides herself on being a very good judge of character. “It’s a blow to my pride,” she said.

  I was going to say I thought he was an ass right from the beginning but the bacon started to burn and fat splattered all over the wall and by the time we got that cleaned up, I had decided not to say it, which was probably a wise decision.

  “He said he was a Leo,” I said. “I didn’t believe him. Maybe he was left on somebody’s doorstep and they just took a guess as to when he was born. I have never known a Leo who wasn’t first-class.”

  “He looked so funny, though, when I socked him,” Nina said. She was going to be telling this story a lot and she wanted to get it in shape. “I wish I’d had a camera. He looked so surprised!”

  “It’s probably the first time that ever happened to him,” I said.

  “And it may not be the last,” Nina said darkly.

  The telephone rang and I answered it. It was Jen.

  “How was it?” she asked.

  “How was what?”

  “The dance, creepo. What’d you think?”

  “Why don’t you come over for a bacon sandwich? The chef is whipping one up.”

  Jen was there practically before I hung up. She only lives in the next block and she can really move when she wants to. She used to run the hundred-yard dash faster than any other kid in the school. She has very long legs.

  So she sat down in the kitchen and Nina told her about the dance and what everyone wore and about the fantastic chignon Charlotte’s mother had on and about Charlotte’s dress that had been made for her and a bunch of other garbage.

  I wondered how long it would take her to get to Tiger.

  Finally Jen said, “What about Tiger? How did you two hit it off?”

  Nina and I looked at each other and we started to laugh. We laughed so hard we were rolling on the floor. Jen sat there and looked annoyed.

  “What’s the joke?” she asked coldly. It is never fun to be left out of a joke. I know.

  After a while we stopped laughing and Nina told Jen what had happened. She laughed too, but then she said, “I don’t think you needed to resort to violence,” so Nina got mad and said he had it coming to him and then Jen left in a huff.

  “Do you want my striped bell-bottoms?” Nina asked me. “I washed them and they shrank and they’re too tight for me but I think they might fit you.”

  I said Sure, although I didn’t really like them that much. But my gosh, I wouldn’t have destroyed the atmosphere in our kitchen at that moment for anything in the world.

  16.

  The truce was temporary.

  The next day we were at each other’s throats and Nina and Niffy were bosom buddies again. It had been fun while it lasted.

  “I think I’ll go down and see Carla,” I said to my mother. “I haven’t seen her all week. I love Carla, Mom. I really do. I wish she was my sister. She is a truly good person and you don’t find too many of them lying around these days.”

  “Present company excepted, of course,” my mother said.

  I patted her on the head. “I like mothers who wear their own hair,” I told her.

  “That’s too bad,” she said, “because I’m seriously thinking of buying a wig. A very expensive wig.”

  “What color?”

  “Red, I think. I’ve always wanted to be a redhead.”

  “Dad would have a conniption fit,” I said. I had just been reading my horoscope for that day. It said: “Be sure to help good friends who are in trouble.”

  “Mom, your horoscope today is very apt,” I said. “It says: ‘Don’t try to put new ideas into operation right now since they need more study before they can prove successful.’”

  My mother said, “Do you suppose that means my wig?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “You better mull it over.”

  “Do you want anything downtown?” I asked her.

  “No,” she said, “but you could take a couple of books back to the library for me, if you will.”

  “Sure,” I said. I liked the library. Especially in the summer when it wasn’t filled with a whole mess of kids frantically doing term papers. I liked it best when there were just a lot of old ladies and men reading and also a lot of little kids who were so small they looked as if they couldn’t possibly read. Once in a while you would even see a little kid sitting at one of the small tables reading away like mad, only if you looked closely you could see the kid was holding the book upside down. That always cracked me up.

  “I want to come,” John said.

  Then I couldn’t ride my bike. I’d have to walk.

  “W
hat’ll you do downtown? It’ll be pretty boring.”

  “I want to come anyway,” he said.

  Taurus the Bull.

  Then Charlie D’Agostino came to the door. Charlie is a friend of John’s whose mother is always trying to get rid of him. I can’t blame her too much. Charlie is a devil. People in the neighborhood suspect that Charlie’s mother drops him off outside houses and says, “Go visit so-and-so,” and then drives off. Maybe.

  “I’m here,” Charlie announced.

  “So I see,” my mother said.

  John and Charlie looked at each other and, without exchanging a word, they started their karate chops. My mother took each one by the arm and gently moved them out to the yard where they could chop away and not break up the furniture. They didn’t even seem to notice the change.

  “I hope they don’t draw blood,” she said. She had got very philosophical lately.

  I got on my bike and was halfway downtown before I remembered I’d forgotten the library books. I decided I would take them next time. I felt like being alone all of a sudden.

  17.

  Fat chance.

  The first person I saw when I stopped at the red light on Main Street was Jen. Wouldn’t you know.

  “Hey,” she said, “guess who’s getting married?”

  “You,” I said. “To Ernest Havemeyer.”

  Ernest Havemeyer is a very unfortunate boy we have gone through school with. He has everything wrong with him that he possibly could: bad breath, problem perspiration, dandruff; you name it, Ernest has it. I guess he doesn’t watch the commercials on television much. Or if he does, he figures they’re directed at the other guys. Even the hair tonic he uses is wrong. It smells like turpentine. Maybe it is.

  “Ha ha,” she said. “You’re a riot. But really. Guess.”

  “Miss Nelson.” Miss Nelson was our last year’s English teacher. We had decided, Jen and I, that she was frigid.

  “Carla McAllister, smarty. That’s who,” Jen said.

  I tried to pretend that didn’t shake me up.

  “So what else is new?” I asked.