Marijuana Girl
Page 13
He said, "Joy, you look sick. Let me take you to a doctor."
She shook her head. "No. I didn't have enough today. I--I took less. I'm trying to cut down."
He bent over and kissed her. Suddenly she was clinging to him, crying wildly. She said, "Help me, Tony. Just help me."
"I'll help," he said. "I'll always help."
That was when he knew she would make it.
But it was a long time before Joyce knew it, too. He tried to induce her to go back to Paugwasset with him, but she shook her head. "Not till I'm out of it, Tony." And the next time he saw her the sunglasses were back in place.
But the time came when she asked him to go home--to her room--with her.
The little room was stuffy and dingy and stark. Clothes were draped over the chairbacks, and the bed was a rumpled mess of blankets. He said, "Honeybun," softly, "can't you move to another place?"
Joyce said, "That's the thousandth time," smiling.
"The thousandth time I've asked you to move? No it isn't."
"Stupid! The thousandth time you've said honeybun. I'm keeping track."
They went down the ramp side by side, hand in hand, as people should who are deeply in love. It was a hot day, in mid-July, and the people on the platform, waiting for the red Long Island cars to open their doors, held coats on their arms.
Joyce said, "It feels awfully funny to know that home is so near. I always thought of it--all the time--as being somewhere way off, as far away as Europe." Tony squeezed her hand.
"Look," she said. "Well, I'll be darned. There's old Iris, up there. Dean Shay."
Tony looked. "Don't let her bother you."
"She doesn't," Joyce said, a little surprised.
"Look, honeybun," Tony said, "there's something I've got to ask you."
"What?"
"Will you marry me after I finish college?'
Joyce just nodded her head, and he kissed her. Hard. Right there on the platform.
The doors of the red train opened, and they scrambled for seats.
As the train slid through the tunnel under the East River, Tony said, "You won't be bothered about your parents any more, will you, honey?"
"I don't think so."
Then a voice from the aisle said, "Miss Taylor ... ?" A sort of imperative question.
Joyce looked up. Dean Shay was leaning over the edge of the seat, swaying with the movement of the train. Joyce said, "Hello, Miss Shay."
The dean smiled, a little embarrassed. "I've been trying to get in touch with you for some time. It's lucky I found you like this. I just wanted to tell you that on sober second thought Mr. Mercer and I decided last fall that--well, that you needn't repeat your senior year if you wanted to go on to college. We decided that you could be allowed to take a special examination. It wouldn't be exactly fair to let things go all to pot over that one little incident."
Joyce smiled up at her. "They didn't, Miss Shay. I just thought they did."
THE END
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Two