by C. Ruth Daly
“Yup. Just like I remember it.” Glynda remarked. “What do ya think, LBJ?”
LBJ looked it up and down. “Looks like she was too smart for Hollis. Do you think she was naked when he took the picture?”
“Maybe she was.” My words drew slowly from my mouth. “I think Rita was just blinded by Hollis. Look how he has smooth-talked everyone in town and now he’s running for mayor.”
“Yeah. I don’t think she was all the way naked.” Glynda made the observation. “She looks like those girls advertising shampoo on the back of magazines. See how there’s a little shadow right down here.” Glynda pointed at Rita’s cleavage. “See where it looks like she was wearing a low cut black dress.”
“You’re right Glynda! That’s a relief—she is wearing something but she’s still showing a lot of boob.”
“So what are you going to do with it Donna?” LBJ wanted to know.
I picked up the canvas and carefully placed it over the picture. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just keep it for now. Maybe Rita will come back to Burgenton for it someday. I don’t get it though, Rita said to take an axe to it. She could have done that herself and gotten rid of it. I just think maybe she’ll come back for it. It would be nice to see her again.”
“Yeah. I miss her too. Grandma still hasn’t found a renter for her apartment.”
“Do you think we could have another slumber party there if she doesn’t rent it by this summer?” LBJ asked.
“Maybe.” Glynda answered. “Aren’t you guys ready for pizza? I’m hungry. Maybe we can get a submarine sandwich or something, too.”
The three of us headed up the back alley toward town. The limestone gravel was a sea of white beneath our feet but as evening quickly approached, the fading light began to cast a gray cloud over the rocks. I kicked them as we strolled down the alley to the blacktop by the Baptist Church and then into the caverns of the downtown buildings which lined the alley. It was sort of spooky in the downtown with the sunlight fading and the aged buildings casting shadows upon us.
“Oooohhh ... this makes me feel so creepy.” Glynda was the first one to agree.
“Yeah. Me too.” LBJ remarked. “Remember the Valentine’s social? We ran into Hollis and Rita Brennan right at that corner. LBJ turned her shoulder and pointed behind us.
We looked at each other and picked up our pace, soon walking onto the safety of the sidewalk in front of Smith’s Drugstore and past the Opera House where a padlock and bike chain now held the doors together. The Pizza Spot was on the corner diagonal from us and Ned Hollis’s campaign headquarters was right beside it. The windows were dark and the glow from the restaurant provided a nice contrast to Hollis’s dark domain.
We jaywalked across the street as no cars were in the intersection since the town had shut down for the day. Only the few bars and the Pizza Spot remained open for the nocturnal wanderers of Burgenton. As we walked by Hollis’s campaign headquarters, I glanced in the window to be startled by my own dark reflection staring back at me. I looked over at LBJ and Glynda, and was glad they did not notice me jump.
The Pizza Spot was warm and inviting as we entered into the brightly lit room. Its white walls and low ceiling lights swung above our heads as we moved across the room to place our order. A few high school students were already seated; two tables were still available so Glynda quickly grabbed one for us. LBJ and I ordered at the counter and sat down beside Glynda. We waited patiently for our food to come and eaves-dropped on the high schoolers who surrounded us.
My heart stopped when I heard the whispers from two girls at the table behind us. “Did you hear Irish McNally is pregnant?” I froze in my seat and strained to hear more. Glynda started to talk and I moved my finger to my lip for her to be silent.
“What is it, Donna?” Glynda asked.
I couldn’t answer her, but held on carefully to the words which were being spoken behind me. “Yeah, I heard it too.” The other girl said. “She hasn’t even told her parents.”
There was a brief silence and then the other girl said, “Shhh ... isn’t that her sister?”
“No—no, I don’t think so. Even if she is, she can’t hear us talk. At least I don’t think she can.”
The counter person called up our order and LBJ went to pick it up.
“Are you alright, Donna?” Glynda looked worried. “Your face is awfully white. Are you feeling sick?”
I could not muster an answer. There was so much going through my mind. My parents would die and my dad would die twice. First of all, Gil, assuming he was the father, was not Catholic. Second of all, Irish had sex before marriage which totally violated our Catholic principles. My head was spinning and my stomach followed. LBJ returned to the table with our order and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
With my pants still up, I sat down on the toilet and cradled my head in my hands while tears came to my eyes. Tears of confusion for I knew that another monkey wrench had been thrown into the turning wheel I thought of as my life. I stayed in that position for the longest time until the tears stopped. The bathroom was quiet and I appreciated the solitude until I heard voices above my head and thought maybe God was calling me to ease my pain. Quickly coming to my senses I recognized one voice as Ned Hollis and then the other voice as Officer Moore. Looking up I saw the heater grate in the ductwork which ran directly into Hollis’s campaign headquarters. I strained my ears to listen, but could not clearly pick up what they were saying. The main thing was that the two were in Hollis’s campaign headquarters. What would Officer Moore be doing there at night?
The bathroom door opened and I got up from the toilet and came out of the stall. One of the high school girls who had been gossiping about Irish waited against the wall. She smiled sheepishly at me, did some kind of awkward curtsy, and went into the stall I had been in. I opened the door and went back to the table to find that Glynda and LBJ had eaten most of the pizza and submarine sandwich but had saved a slice and a quarter of the sandwich for me.
“Are you sick, Donna?” Glynda asked as she wiped a paper napkin across her mouth.
“I must be. Maybe I’m just nervous about school ending. I think I’ll just take this sandwich home with me. Do either of you guys want the slice of pizza?”
LBJ took it and we cleared our table and stepped out into the night life of Burgenton. It was about eight o’clock by now and I was ready to go home. What was supposed to be our last supper together as seventh graders was wrecked. Wrecked by the rumors of two girls and I was afraid the rumors were right. It wasn’t long ago when Irish sat at the kitchen table, cried uncontrollably and would not tell me why she was crying. I wanted to get home and see if Anna knew anything. Maybe this would be a good time to call Margaret in Los Angeles and see what she thought we should do.
We stood on the corner and waited as a few of the night lifers cruised by in their cars. One squealed his tires as he jetted from his stop which quickly brought Officer Moore out of Hollis’s quarters. Moore paid no attention to us but jumped in his squad car, turned on the lights and headed east down Livingston Street.
My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Irish and what would happen to her. I wondered if Gil knew and if he did, what would he do about it? A vivid picture of my dad with a shotgun strapped over his shoulder came to mind and I glanced down the street to see St. Anne’s Church. LBJ and Glynda chattered about what seemed like nothing to me.
Finally Glynda turned her attention in my direction. “What’s going on Donna? Are you still sick?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m really sick. Sorry guys if I messed up our night.”
“Geez, McNally. Don’t be sick for the last day of school.” LBJ reminded me.
We got back to my house and Glynda said she would walk home by herself. I was never so anxious to have LBJ leave my house. I pretended I needed to vomit and rushed to the bathroom while LBJ picked up the phone and called her Grandpa. I knew it would take him forty-five minutes to make the three-mile drive, so I spent an extra amo
unt of time in the bathroom making regurgitating noises. After about ten minutes I came out and sat down at the dining room table. LBJ sat across from me. Dad was at work and Mom was watching TV in the living room. No one besides LBJ noticed I was “sick.”
LBJ flipped through one of my mom’s magazines while I kept up the ruse to avoid the real reason why I wasn’t talking. I hoped Anna was upstairs because I knew Irish wasn’t since she was out with Gil Rolf every night. High school graduation would be in a few days and Irish would be graduating and leaving home, I had thought, like all of my other sisters and my brother. But Irish had not mentioned anything about leaving home. She talked about moving to Indianapolis and getting a job, but she hadn’t made any attempt to do that. Irish was too attached to Burgenton to leave now. She was too attached to Gil Rolf, too. And now, I was afraid, she was permanently attached. Then the nauseating thought occurred to me, if Irish and Gil married, I would be related to Stewart Rolf. My stomach churned again, and this time for real. Groaning and grabbing my middle, I leaned forward in pain.
“Geez, Donna. You’re awfully sick. Why don’t you move away from me so I don’t catch it—I mean, I want you to stick around, but I don’t want you sitting there and sending your germs across the table.” LBJ shooed her hands in my direction to send any germs back my way.
“Okay, LBJ. I can move. I think I’ll go to the bathroom again. If I’m still in there when your grandpa comes, then ‘bye.’ I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stood up still clutching my belly and made my way to the bathroom.
“I don’t think you’ll be going to school, McNally. Get better!” LBJ yelled and I retreated to the bathroom.
Once again I found myself sitting with pants up on the toilet and my head cradled in my hands. I sat there until I heard the front door shut and LBJ yell, “Goodbye Mrs. McNally!”
The coast was clear and I rushed up the stairs to find Anna. She was propped up in bed with her hair wound around the big pink foam rollers, ropes of red licorice hung from her mouth and she was polishing her toenails with a flamingo pink—pinker than the hair rollers.
“Anna!” I bolted into the room startling the licorice from her mouth and almost causing her to knock the flamingo enamel all over the blue cotton beads of the bedspread.
“What!” she screamed as she grabbed the finger nail polish bottle.
“Anna. What have you heard at the high school?” I stared pleadingly into her eyes.
“What do you mean, what have I heard?” Anna looked me up and down, but I could tell she was faking her innocence.
“Anna. I was at the Pizza Spot tonight and these two girls were talking about Irish.” I waited for her response. I didn’t want to be the one to say the “P” word: PREGNANT.
Anna turned her head away from me. “Really? What were they saying?”
“You know, don’t you Anna?” I had to be direct. I knew I had to be the one to say the “P” word. “You already know Irish is pregnant.”
There. I had said it and it wasn’t really hard to say so I said it over and over. “Irish is pregnant, pregnant, pregnant, and no one told me? I had to find out from two girls—complete strangers? I didn’t even know who they were and they knew before me?”
The pains in my stomach were gone having been cured by the anger exploding from my mouth. “How long have YOU known, Anna? How long has Irish known? Do Mom and Dad know? Does Margaret know? Margaret probably already knows, doesn’t she? And she is two thousand miles away!”
“Shut up, Donna! Yes, Margaret does know, but Mom and Dad don’t know. Irish found out about a couple of month ago. Gil took her to a doctor in Kokomo so it would be far enough away for anyone in Burgenton not to know. Gil and Irish are planning on getting married, but they’re not going to tell anyone until Irish graduates. Irish figures she won’t be showing for another couple of months, so she has some time to buy.”
“They’re planning on telling both sets of parents on graduation day. Irish will be fine because Gil farms for his dad and his dad will give them a house to live in. Irish will probably be better off than any of the rest of us, except for Margaret, but it took Margaret nine years to get to where she’s at. It’s only taking Irish, well...however long it takes to you know and she’s set for life.”
It took me a few seconds to figure out what the, you know was that Irish did, and then I did know what Irish had done. We had just covered the reproductive system in science class a couple of months ago. Ironically, I thought, about the same time Irish did the you know with Gil Rolf.
SEVENTEEN
I was able to attend school for the last day and Glynda and LBJ marveled at my miraculous recovery. I simply explained that I had gorged myself on a bag of cotton candy between classes and all of my pain and agony was self-induced. Irish’s pregnancy was another secret I had to keep away from the two of them. Graduation was tonight and I had to keep quiet until after the big announcement.
The day began with an eager start as we were scheduled to attend all of our regular classes during the half-day schedule. The teachers had removed all evidence of a classroom having taken down bulletin boards and posters; the chalkboards were clean, just like they were at the beginning of the school year. I was finding it difficult to sit through a day of nothingness when the only thing I could anticipate was the explosion that would happen after Irish’s graduation.
I was sitting in my usual first period with Mr. Roberts and gave a quick glance around the room to see Evan Miles in attendance and actually talking to the girl next to him. Evan seemed more engaged these days but even more robotic. I wondered what kind of doctor he had been seeing since his sister’s murder. To my left sat the cousin of Brian Reynolds which reminded me that Brian’s trial was set for the first part of June in a neighboring county. Gil Rolf had been subpoenaed to testify since he was no longer an accomplice but now a witness. I almost wished LBJ, Glynda and I had been subpoenaed to testify. It seemed like we had a lot of information to contribute, but so did Gil Rolf. Gil had the pictures of Linda Miles with the fall trees along the river. Even though he had acquired the film illegally, he was not about to divulge that information. The photographs were anonymously placed in the hands of Brian Reynolds’s attorney. I wondered how it could be proven where the pictures were taken and by whom.
The bell rang for the end of the fifteen minute class and I was off to the remainder of my eight periods to cap off my seventh grade year. The morning ended with sack lunches on the blacktop and the male teachers playing the boys in a game of basketball. Glynda, LBJ, Eda and I found a nice spot in the shade of the school by a retaining wall for the custodial entrance. The weather was warm and the four of us sat munching our PBJ sandwiches and enjoying the smooth breeze that brushed over us. No one really said anything except for a few mentions of what each of us might be doing in the summer.
Since we had all turned thirteen this school year we were eligible to detassle seed corn for a month or so. Glynda and I would probably get called to do it, while LBJ had to help out on the farm, although she didn’t have to do much. Eda would help her mother with the garden and her younger brothers and sisters. The three of us knew we would see neither hide nor hair of Eda this summer. She would magically appear, coming off the school bus in the fall and life for the four of us would begin as usual as if one year had merged into the next.
The bell blared its final call for the end of the school year and we all jumped from our spots, disposed of the remnants of our lunches into the trash bags held by teachers equally eager for the year to end. The four of us hugged goodbye with Eda’s hug being more reserved than the rest of ours. LBJ and Eda boarded separate buses to the country while Glynda and I headed for the bus back to our neighborhood. Just like at the start of the year and all year, Thelma Carson sat at the helm and glared at everyone until they were seated and voices reduced to a whisper. Evan Miles was on the bus which was surprising since rumor was he would not ride the bus again as long as Thelma was the driver.
; Evan sat and stared out the window, clutching his notebook in his hand. He caught me staring at him and returned my gaze with a hard glazed stare. Evan no longer seemed to be the cocky brazen boy he was six months ago. I forced a smile and he turned his head and continued to stare out the window.
As usual Thelma jerked to a stop at the armory. As Glynda and I got off the bus, she smacked her lips and briskly told us to have a good summer and she might be a foreman, and if we were lucky, she’d choose us for her field crew. Glynda and I smiled bleakly and muttered a ‘yay’ and ‘great,’ then turned to head to our homes. We walked to the corner and Glynda turned left while I turned right.
“I’ll see ya soon, Myer. Okay?” I called as Glynda strolled toward her house.
“Okay, see ya, Donna.” She answered, and I headed toward my house and the night to come.
When I got home Anna and Irish were already there. Tim’s elementary school would be dismissed later so he wasn’t home yet. Mom was next door at Mrs. Randall’s house and Dad was at work. Irish and Anna were both sitting in the kitchen eating bologna sandwiches and potato chips.