Call me Jane (The Oshkosh Trilogy)

by Anthea Carson

  And that’s how we segued to that topic.

  I just assumed everyone was pro-choice. I was shocked. Not everyone was. Dave and Chrystal were pro-life. Raj used to be pro-choice, but changed positions to be more like President Reagan. Ziggy was thinking about changing his position too. Paul seemed to be staying out of it, but I eyed him to see which direction he might lean. The direction he leaned seemed to be out the door, because that’s where he eventually went. He slipped out without me being able to ask him where he was going without making a total fool of myself. So I tried not to notice it at all. I heard his car start up, and somebody asked where he was. It was late. And the argument was just starting.

  Raj I could understand. He just wanted to be as controversial and extreme as he could possibly be. But Ziggy? Now he was saying, “Well, it is a life.”

  “It isn’t a life,” I said. “It’s not. It can’t be.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dave said, staring at me. “That’s crazy.”

  Krishna and Gay both jumped on him at once.

  “No it wasn’t crazy,” Gay said.

  “It is crazy talk,” Dave continued

  “No, it isn’t crazy, because once you gave the fetus life status you are—” Ziggy started.

  “Opening the doors to full on subjugation of women,” I shouted, and Gay was right behind me on this one, and Krishna too, even though she seemed to have lost interest and was now looking through my ice box, and asking if we had any ice cream.

  “Oh no,” Gay said. “Krishna’s looking for the ice cream. Here we go again.”

  TWENTY FOUR

  I noticed Lucy hadn’t even been in school recently. It didn’t dawn on me till I was coming out of the pot throwing class and saw Krishna walking toward me in the hall and she was wearing that strange, calico shirt again that hung around her all hippie style, and I remembered those pot brownies. I asked Krishna about Lucy’s whereabouts, and Krishna said, “What’s the matter? Aren’t things going okay with Paul?”

  “No, well, what do you mean? I don’t even know if Paul likes me,” I said. “I mean, he just left the other night without saying good-bye even.”

  “Oh, I think he does like you,” she said nodding and smiling. She said this with a big emphasis on the word does.

  “But still, I mean, where is Lucy? I haven’t seen her anywhere.”

  “Sick, I think.”

  “Well, she must be really sick.”

  “I think she is. I gotta go to class.”

  I didn’t eat lunch there at the school. I couldn’t take watching Gay ignore me with her jock friends for another lunch, and I hated sitting with most of the people at school. I never saw Ziggy or Paul or Raj eating lunch there, or Krishna. The only one I ever saw in that stupid cafeteria was Gay.

  I walked out to the parking lot and climbed in my car and went through a drive-through. I wasn’t that hungry anyway. I felt kind of depressed and a little sick. I went home. I didn’t even feel like going to Mrs. De Muprathne’s class.

  I walked into the kitchen, and on that gold refrigerator was a note that said, “Paul called.”

  I was so happy now. I was so happy I was skipping. I said happy, cheerful things to my mom. She offered me a grilled peanut-butter sandwich.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’ll just take something I can grab. I gotta go back to class.”

  I drove back to class fast. I didn’t call him back. Better to make him wait. I don’t want to seem too anxious or anything.

  Besides, I was feeling pretty cool now, not so needy. Since he had called, this left me feeling like I didn’t need to feel so clingy, waiting around for phone calls, moping around. I was a free spirit.

  And besides, I loved Mrs. De Muprathne’s class.

  I sat down behind Glinda. I listened with interest to Mrs. D’s description of the true nature of Hamlet. She was brilliant, I thought. Practically the smartest teacher I ever knew, outside of my dad.

  Glinda never turned around until the end of class. Then she did the strangest thing. She handed me an envelope with my name on it.

  “Don’t read it until you get in your car,” she said.

  Well, I wasn’t about to wait till I was in my car. I ripped it open right there in Mrs. De Muprathne’s class. She didn’t see me though. She left imperiously the moment she handed it to me. Somehow she managed to have the loudest soft voice I’d ever heard. When she spoke it carried. People grew silent when she spoke, and turned to look at her, like they do when someone whispers.

  It was a legal-sized envelope. My name was scrawled on the front. I ripped the envelope in half and tore out the letter. Her handwriting was elegant and swirly. I sat down back in my desk even though the next class was coming in.

  Dear Jane,

  I ask you to cease and desist all further activity with Paul. If you must know why, Lucy is pregnant. Don’t tell anyone. We are all hoping Paul will do the right thing by her. You are the one standing in the way. If it weren’t for you and your little Blondie act, he’d be taking care of her and their coming child. I know how you are. I know how you treat your parents. Maybe you can change. Do you have it in you to be decent?

  Glinda

  I folded up the letter and sat staring in Mrs. De Muprathne’s next class. Someone was standing over me waiting for me to move out of my seat. I couldn’t. I couldn’t move out of her seat. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Hey Blondie, you’re in my seat.”

  That was Gay’s voice. I looked up.

  “You sit here? That’s funny,” I said, but I didn’t sound like I thought anything was funny.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked me.

  “Nothing,” I said, and stood up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, yeah, I’ll be okay, I’m okay,” I said.

  She followed me out of the room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I had a tear in my eye and my voice quivered.

  “You must know. You are probably just as angry at me as she is.”

  “Know what? Angry as who is?” Gay said.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know until you tell me.” We walked away from the classroom.

  “I just found out Lucy’s pregnant,” I whispered.

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, and it’s my fault if Paul doesn’t take care of her and the baby.”

  “God!” Gay said. “Hasn’t Prego fucked up enough people’s lives?”

  I looked up at her, tears now streaming down my face.

  “Glinda wants me to cease and desist.”

  “Oh God, cease and desist?” she rolled her eyes. “Did she seriously say that?”

  “Well, she wrote it.”

  I showed her the folded-up letter, and she grabbed it out of my hand and read it. She rolled her eyes again and laughed out loud.

  “She’s something else,” Gay shook her head handing it back. “Nothing is your fault. Fuck Glinda. You didn’t do anything wrong. Prego’s a fucking whore, okay? It’s okay. Now I gotta go back to class.”

  I did feel better, but I still had a tearstained face on my way out of the school. I passed Potty Mouth right near the doors.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Hey, can you give me a ride home?”

  “Okay,” I said, grateful for the company.

  TWENTY FIVE

  “Come on, what’s wrong?” she said in the car.

  “I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Do about what?”

  “I have a moral dilemma, I guess.”

  “Moral dilemma?” She lit her cig; she could tell this was going to be a long car ride. “Is it about that ugly dude?”

  “Ziggy? No,” I said.

  “Well what? Come on, smoke a doobie with me. Let’s drive around and you can talk to me about it.”

  I took a turn toward Menomonee Park.

&
nbsp; “Well, I can’t tell you the whole thing. It wouldn’t be right you know?” I said.

  “Just tell me what your dilemma is, and you can leave out all the details. Do you have a rolling tray?” Potty Mouth pulled a big quarter bag out of her purse. “I got some good shit here, you’re gonna love this.”

  “Um,” I looked around. “I thought there was a tray back there; can you check the backseat?”

  “Nope, nothing back there.”

  “Check under the seat.”

  We drove down Bowen Street and took a left on New York Street.

  “That’s my house,” I pointed to the left. “Third one on the right.”

  “Wow, girl, you got money.”

  “I do?” I asked. “I sure don’t feel like I do.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, I got these rich cousins in San Diego. We go visit them all the time. My aunt is a surgeon. They have a pool. They have underwater speakers in the pool. At night it’s all lit up from these beautiful lights under the pool, Palm trees all around. Gorgeous house. Barrel full of swimsuits if you don’t have one. I am a poor relation.”

  “Well, take me there with you next time you go.”

  “I may be going this summer for a while. I hope so, anyway.”

  “Here it is.” She found the leggy-girl tray. It was under the seat. “So what’s your dilemma?”

  Okay, now how do I put this? I looked around at the beautiful park. I thought about Glinda’s nasty letter. Blondie, she called me. Like I was the little slut. I had never even gone to second base with a guy. But it is true, I did steal Paul from Lucy, and I knew it. I knew that I had deliberately allowed her to use me for my car in order to be around Paul. In a sense I was using her.

  “Park here, and we’ll smoke this parked, and that way you can concentrate.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Well, I really like this one guy.”

  “But it’s not Ziggy.”

  “No.”

  “Wasn’t Lucy saying you liked Ziggy? Or Ziggy liked you or something like that? Didn’t somebody like somebody?” she laughed.

  “Well, yeah, she did say that.” I took a toke; I could tell it was good dope right away. “Where’d you get this?”

  “I can’t tell,” she said. “It’s a secret.”

  “It is, why?”

  “Ha, ha, ha, you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine.”

  I laughed.

  “Anyway I like this guy,” I continued, “a lot!”

  “A lot. Okay, let’s see. It’s not Ziggy. But who does Ziggy hang around? Who do you guys hang around, you punk rockers?”

  “A lot, a lot!” I said.

  “Why do you guys dress like that?”

  “He’s sooooo cute.”

  “You guys look stupid.”

  “And he looks so gorgeous on stage.”

  “On stage?” Her voice picked up. “He’s one of the Transistors. The band that’s playing at graduation? And aren’t they playing at prom too?”

  “They are?” I said.

  “So which one? Let me think.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, thinking back to the letter, barely listening to her. I put my chin on the steering wheel and stared out at the lake.

  “I have to try and think who’s even in that band. Is Ziggy in that band? He’s not in that band, is he? He’s not cute.”

  “He’s the band manager,” I said absentmindedly.

  “Well, it’s got to be one of them. Let’s see, who’s in there? Isn’t that Krishna’s brother in there?”

  “Raj?” I asked.

  “Yeah, so you like Raj? Yeah, he’s okay, he’s pretty cute. Not that cute. He’s got great clothes though. His clothes are cool.”

  “No, it’s not Raj. I did go out with him, though.”

  “Geez, you bang every one of these guys?”

  “No,” I said, “I’m a virgin.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, not kidding. Catholic school.”

  “You’re Catholic?”

  “No, but I went to Catholic school all my life; you think I’m gonna put out? Gimme a break.”

  “Oh come on, haven’t you heard the song? Catholic girls start much too late.”

  “Well, see what I mean? They start late.”

  “That’s not the right song then.”

  “I played that song in the classroom,” I said, “really loud! The nuns came running down the hall in horror!”

  “High five!” she said.

  The joint was burned down to a roach. I was really stoned. The park looked sooooo pretty. My problem seemed bigger, and yet nicer, all at the same time. I pulled out a cigarette.

  “Can I have one?” she asked. “I’m out.” She wadded up her empty pack and looked around for a trash container, shrugged, and threw it out the window. She smoked Marlboro light one hundreds, just like me. Hey, we could bum off each other. I thought of Casablanca, the last line. “Louis, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  I gave her a cig; she had her own lighter, but had to search a cluttered purse for it, so I lit it for her while she was searching. She took a big drag off it and blew out a long stream. “Thanks,” she said. “Now, what’s the problem? The fact that you don’t put out? And so this guy is gonna dump you right?”

  “No,” I said, shocked, “and if he dumped me for that, good riddance.”

  I couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “Boy, you are a Catholic girl.”

  “I’m not Catholic. I’m actually an atheist.”

  “Oh,” she said, rolling down the window, “then you’re just a prude.”

  “Well, I don’t care.”

  I don’t know if she realized this, but the thought of sex scared the hell out of some people. I know I wasn’t alone in this. And girls who did have it—even Krishna, who I know did that—seemed sort of foreign to me. Evil. I couldn’t explain it. I still liked Krishna. In fact, I think I just overlooked it about her. But it freaked me out, so I didn’t like to think about it. I think it might have been one of the reasons I didn’t respect Lucy.

  And the fact the guys did it didn’t scare me, if that makes any sense. It sort of turned me on, actually. But they weren’t gonna have any from me. That was for sure.

  “Well, we still haven’t gotten to your moral dilemma, and you need to start driving me home now.”

  That wasn’t going to be easy. I was pretty toasted. This was the kind of weed that made you toasted. There should be weed-sampling places just like there were wine-sipping places. The dope could have little signs in front of it. “Toasted,” it could say, and “Baked,” those were for brownies, and “just plain stoned.” Weed for the common man. I forgot what I was trying to tell her. Oh no, I remembered. That awful letter!

  “Some girl told me to leave the guy I like alone. To cease and desist!”

  “Cease and desist?” she hollered. “What the fuck? Was she a lawyer?”

  “No, she’s–anyway, it’s for kind of a good reason.”

  “What, she wants to fuck him for herself?”

  “No, that’s not it. It is a good reason.”

  “Okay, what possible? He’s a psycho?”

  “No.”

  “Well why then?”

  I guess I could tell her, so long as I didn’t tell her who it was.

  “I–he was dating someone else.”

  “So, he’s not married to her right? So he likes you right? So this is high school.”

  “Well, he sort of got this girl pregnant.”

  “Oh I know who it is!” she started laughing. “I know exactly who it is!”

  “No! You couldn’t possibly.”

  “Never mind,” she waved away my concerns with her hand, “your secret is safe with me,” and she made a key motion on those Kewpie-doll lips with a mock smile. “Need some more Black Beauties?”

  “Sure.” I reached out my hand.

  TWENTY SIX

  I wen
t over to Krishna’s with my handful of Black Beauties.

  I put my feet up on her coffee table.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, putting on a record. “You look all bummed out. You’re starting to bum me out.”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  She put on some Ramones. We sometimes called it bubblegum punk.

  “Well,” she said, “whatever it is, cheer up. Smoke some pot.”

  “I just did. It was great–God damn that girl gets great dope.”

  “Which girl? Where’d she get it?”

  “Oh, she’s in my pottery class. I don’t know where she gets it.”

  “Oh, I think I know who you’re talking about. Hey, I have an idea,” she said, “I have a great idea for a party. You know how we’re always arguing over the Beatles and the Stones?”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad to have something else to think about besides my moral dilemma, my hurt feelings over Glinda’s nasty letter, and my crush on Paul.

  “Let’s have a Beatles-Stones-off, and decide once and for all who’s better.”

  “Okay, sounds fine with me,” I said. Then after a pause I said, “Why does Glinda hate me?”

  “What?”

  “Glinda. Why does she hate me?”

  “God you’re paranoid.”

  “No, really,” I said.

  “Ugh. What would you care if she did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She really had me here. Why did I care so much? Why couldn’t I make that go away? Why didn’t she?

  “But, Glinda is cool,” I said, lighting a cig and a joint at the same time.

  “So are you,” she said.

  I guess I’d never thought of myself that way before. I had to take a moment and soak that thought in.

  I looked out at her backyard. The birds were singing, the cool breeze came in through the window. I looked at all the magical things in Krishna’s room; the mirrored little boxes and trays, the strange things, the candle arm, the colorful ashtray, the incense holders that she burned in threes and fours when Gay wasn’t there, the exotic furniture, the tapestries and the plants everywhere.