by Bev Marshall
Running up the steps to the redbrick building, I met Miss Schultz coming down them. She was holding three books against her chest and her fabric purse hung off her shoulder, bumping against her hip as she came toward me with a big smile. “Layla Jay! How nice to see you. Are you enjoying your summer vacation?”
I hated seeing teachers out of the classroom, but Miss Schultz would have been an exception, except that now I worried that what I had just done might somehow be visible to her. My cheeks burned and I drew my shoulders forward, pushing my breasts back as far as I could. “Yes ma’am,” I said.
“How’s your mother coming along?”
“She’s better.Thank you. Getting around a little bit now with one of those walkers. Everyone has been surprised at what a quick recovery she’s made so far.”
“Well, I know she has a good nurse in you.” She shifted her books to her left arm.“I’d better get home. Lots of reading to catch up on. I don’t get a chance to read much during the school year.What are you reading this summer?”
I dropped my hand to my beach bag, covering the book outlined there as if it were transparent and the tall pink and yellow letters on the middle of the book cover that spelled Lolita were visible. “Uh, right now, David Copperfield,” I said.
“Oh, Dickens is just wonderful,” Miss Schultz said, as she came on down the steps and stood on the sidewalk. “Well, I hope I’ll see you again. Have a pleasant summer and best regards to your mother.”
“Bye. Thanks,” I said. As I watched her walking to her ancient Chevrolet, I thought that if she knew what pleasant activity I had just been engaged in, she wouldn’t be hoping to see me again.
In the library I remembered the medical dictionary lying on Mama’s bedside table, and went to the rows of encyclopedias and dictionaries. Running my fingers down the silver-lettered World Books, I came to a red-and-cream-colored book with the title The Illustrated Medical Dictionary and pulled it from the shelf. Sitting on the hardwood floor, I opened it, and then flipping through the pages, saw that it was in alphabetical order like a regular dictionary. I tried looking up “breast” first. I read about paired mammary glands, the growth depending on hormones, the size and shape depending on fatty tissue rather than glands. None of that was helpful. Next I found a color illustration of the female reproductive system that only named the organs, most of which I knew all about from health class in school.
Finally, just as I was about to give up, the word I was searching for popped into my brain: “Homosexuality.” I turned to the H’s, and as my index finger passed Histoplasmosis, Hives, Hoarseness, and Hodgkin’s disease and landed on the word “Homosexuality,” Jehu popped out of the next aisle. I slammed the book shut and slapped my palm over as many letters of the title as it would cover. “Hi,” I said.
Jehu had just come from work. I knew because he was wearing a red-and-white Piggly Wiggly shirt with the little pig’s head logo on the pocket above his name. “Hey, Layla Jay. I thought you’d be at the pool.”
“It rained earlier,” I said.
He tucked the green-bound book he was holding beneath his arm. “Oh yeah, I was in the stockroom with no windows, but I heard the thunder. Big storm, huh?”
I wanted to know what the title of the book was he had hidden. Maybe, like me, he was seeking an answer to a question. “Yeah, it was. You checking that out?” I asked, pointing to the book.
“Uh huh. Baseball greats. I’m on the Pony League team this year. Second base.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you played.”
“Yeah, you should come to a game sometime. I’m on the Firestone store team.”
For a moment I forgot my misery.Would he ask me to come watch him if he didn’t like me anymore? “I’d love to,” I said.“I’ll see if I can get a ride over to the field sometime.”
“If you really want to go, you could ride with us,” he said. “Red Pittman usually picks me up. He’s on the team, too.”
What about Lyn? I thought.What about her? He was asking me, not her, and I lifted my hand to my hair.Why hadn’t I combed it before I left June’s?
“That’d be cool.When’s the next game?”
“This Saturday. I’ll call you and tell you what time. Gotta get going. My dad’s waiting for me outside. He’s got to represent a client in court at three, so I’ve got to hurry it up.”
“Okay, bye. And thanks,” I said, smiling so big my cheeks ached.
After Jehu left, I turned back to the book. I had found what I was looking for, and now I would find out what was the matter with me. I read silently.
HOMOSEXUALITY, sexual attraction toward persons of one’s own sex rather than the opposite sex. In females it is called lesbianism. In psychoanalysis the term can also include sexual interest which does not receive genital expression. The causes of homosexuality are extremely complex and difficult to ascertain, and science or psychiatry have only partial answers to the treatment of the problem.This deviation from normal heterosexuality may develop at puberty. A lack of hormones, or such emotional factors as a father complex in the female adolescent, or a similar identification toward the mother in the male adolescent, may be the basis of homosexuality.
June and I were lesbianism. I understood that we most likely had developed this problem (for which there didn’t seem to be any treatment) in puberty, but I didn’t for a minute believe that I had a father complex. I’d never had a real father to begin with. How could I have a complex about one? Maybe June did though. We hadn’t had genital expression, but the term still applied, I assumed. Then I began to reread the paragraph, and the first sentence stopped me: “sexual attraction toward persons of one’s own sex rather than the opposite sex.” I wasn’t attracted to June; Jehu was the opposite sex and wasn’t I drawn to him like a fisherman to a boat? I’d rather have Jehu’s hands on my boobs than June’s any day. I didn’t fit the definition of lesbianism. But maybe June did. And now I remembered the girls at the pool staring at her, whispering behind their hands. Did they know? Was that the real reason June had wanted to resume our friendship?
I shelved the book back in its place, and beneath a cloud of still unanswered questions, drifted out of the library and crossed Eighth Street onto Delaware Avenue. Two blocks down I came to Centenary Methodist Church and paused in front of the walk leading up to the double wooden doors. Even if I wasn’t lesbianism, I had sinned, or had I? It wasn’t fornication, and that was the only sin I could recall about sex, except for adultery and that didn’t apply to me. I walked on toward home. I doubted God cared about girls enjoying each other’s breasts. And Mama had fornicated so many times, I’d lost count and, up until now, she hadn’t worried about going to hell. And I thought that, if there were a lot of folks like Wallace up in heaven with Grandma and Daddy, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to spend eternity there anyway. By the time I got home, I had begun thinking about the baseball game on Saturday and decided to stop worrying about heaven and hell for a while and enjoy watching Jehu swing a bat.
Saturday finally arrived, and I got up at seven in case Jehu called before he went to work. After Wallace left for work at nine, I went into Mama’s room, where she was sitting by the window sipping a cup of coffee. She set her cup on the round cloth-covered table beside her and smiled at me. “Good morning, I heard you getting up earlier. Are you going to the pool when it opens?”
I smiled back. She hadn’t mispronounced a single word, and now she sounded exactly like she always had. “No, I’m waiting for Jehu to call. He invited me to watch him play baseball tonight.”
“Really? I thought you didn’t like him anymore.”
I sat down on the unmade bed. I could smell Wallace’s aftershave lotion on the pillow beside me and moved farther down the mattress. “I just said that. He dumped me for Lyn, but now I guess they’re broken up again.”
“Well, he ought to make up his mind,” Mama said. Although she was now overweight by
about fifteen pounds or so, sitting framed against the windows with the morning sun streaming around her, Mama looked like a goddess in her long gown. Her hair had grown out in soft curls and turned into a rusty reddish color that made her pale skin look even lighter and the green of her eyes the color of celery. “Are you going to tell Wallace where you’re going?”
The night of the school dance when Wallace had touched me and forbidden me to date returned, and a shadow of fear formed inside me. “I’d rather not,” I said. “You know he’ll say it’s a date, even though Red Pittman is going, too, and I’ll be sitting in the bleachers and Jehu will be on the field.”
Mama had become my accomplice in deceiving Wallace about my near daily trips to the pool. She had caught me stuffing my suit into the bottom of my bag, and I’d confessed about lying to Wallace. Without hesitating, she had totally sided with me on the pool trips, so I was surprised when Mama frowned. “I don’t like all this lying, Layla Jay. It’s not right.”
“I know, but Mama, Wallace is so unreasonable. I can’t talk to him about anything without him lecturing me. He treats me like a two-year-old.”
“Well, I have to admit you’re right. He means well though. He loves you; just wants to protect you for your own good.” As soon as she said those words, she couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread. She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, poot. Bullshit, as Pop would say. A girl your age should have a little fun. I won’t tell.You can say you’re going over to June’s to play cards or something.”
At the mention of June’s name, I reached for the light blue sheet beside me and crumpled the fabric in my fist. “I’m not going to June’s anymore,” I said. Shut up, I told myself. She’s going to ask why not.
Mama’s eyes widened with anger. “I thought you said you’d forgiven her.”
I released the sheet and pressed my palms against my cheeks. I couldn’t tell Mama about me and June. This was one secret she wasn’t going to get out of me no matter how hard she tried. “I did. We made up, but now we’ve had another fight.”
Mama looked genuinely concerned. “What happened?”
With Mama’s eyes boring into me, I suddenly felt dirty. Even if I wasn’t a lesbianism, what I had done with June wasn’t natural. Mama would be disgusted, sickened to have a daughter who would do those things.
“What happened, Layla Jay?”
“Uh, well ...” I swallowed a few times afraid I was going to cry with shame. “I can’t tell you,” I whispered. “I just can’t.” And then I was face down on the bed, spotting Wallace’s pillow with my tears. Somehow she made it over to the bed without her walker, which stood beside her chair. Mama hadn’t taken one step without it before now. I cried harder and then felt Mama’s hand on my back. The scent of her perfume that smelled like Grandma’s tea roses enveloped me, and I sobbed louder.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Let me help. We’ll pray, ask God for His guidance. No matter what it is, He can help you feel better.”
I wiped my nose with the sheet. “No, He can’t,” I said, shaking my head from side to side. “He doesn’t care how I feel. Not anymore.”
Mama wiped my hair from my face and cupped my chin, turning me toward her.“What in the world would make you say something like that? I feel like I don’t even know my own child.”
I jerked away and sat up, swinging my feet to the carpet.“How could you? I don’t know me myself.” I also didn’t know why I was crying, why I felt so mad and sad and downright crazy. I knew I had traveled to some unknown place in my life where there were paths in all directions, and it seemed that any path I took would lead me into trouble. I had been on the road to salvation, then taken a detour off when I lied about getting saved. I’d walked down liars lane with Wallace, run a ways down the lesbianism path with June, and there was always the road I longed to travel that led back to Grandma and the past that I could never retrace. But the highway I had to follow now curved toward Mama. I wiped my face and looked over at her high-necked pink nightgown and remembered the red see-through shortie gown that had been her favorite before the accident. Even her breasts looked smaller now, and it occurred to me that all that Mama had lost, the good and the bad, had been bestowed on me. I hugged her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I just can’t talk about any of it right now. I need to figure out some things first. Please try to understand, Mama.”
Mama wiped a tear from her face. I hadn’t realized she was crying, too. “Okay, Layla Jay, if that’s what you want. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I think you’d feel better if you’d ask God for help with whatever it is that’s bothering you. He does care about you and He loves you.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. I might as well say what she wanted me to. One more lie wasn’t going to make any difference.“You’re right. I know He does. I’ll pray on it.”
Mama didn’t look convinced. “Promise?”
I stood up. “I promise,” I mumbled, crossing my fingers behind my back.
Chapter 14
THE ONE PERSON I NEVER EXPECTED TO SEE AT THE GAME ON Saturday night was Roland. But there he was, sitting on the front row of the metal bleachers on the line from home plate to first base. Jehu and Red had hustled over to the dugout, where Mr. Matheny, the biology teacher at Zebulon High, who was also the coach, was talking to the team members with his left foot resting on the bench where they sat. I was about to hike up to the top of the bleachers when Roland spotted me. “Hey, Layla Jay. Haven’t seen you at a game before.”
I walked over to him and stood with my back to the field. “No, this will be my first one. I didn’t know you were a baseball fan, thought swimming was your sport.”
“It is. My brother Steve plays on the Gabriel Lumber and Supply Store team.” He patted the space beside him. “Take a seat. You got a brother on the team?”
I was wearing my white shorts and the cool metal felt nice on the backs of my thighs. “No. I’m an only child.” I grinned.“And I hope I always will be.”
After the game started, Roland and I realized we were cheering for opposite teams. Each time I yelled and clapped for Jehu and his team members, Roland would put his hand over my mouth or grab my wrist so that I couldn’t clap. Then when he called “Way to go” after the Gabriel team got a hit, I would punch his arm. Jehu looked over at me a couple of times, but for most of the game, he sat in the dugout with his eyes on the field.
After the fourth inning, Roland stood up.“Want a Coke? I’m going to the concession stand.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, pulling my sleeveless pale blue blouse down over my hips as I followed him on the muddy path, my sandals sidestepping puddles left over from the storm earlier in the week.
We didn’t go back to our seats after we got our paper cups of lukewarm Coke, but stood watching the game to the left of third base. Red Pittman was at bat, and he had already hit one home run, so everyone was screaming “Miss it” or “Good eye” after he let a low ball go by. Dave Reddick was the Gabriel pitcher, and he had pitched two balls when he threw a fast ball that connected with Red’s bat. I looked up at the fly ball that sailed into foul territory, right where we stood.
Roland yelled “Watch out,” and flung his arm around me, throwing me onto my stomach on the muddy ground. Looking up, I saw the ball as it streaked on over our heads and landed at the base of the floodlights at the edge of the diamond.
We lay with our arms and legs entangled, and I could hear loud calls from the crowd in the stands and then a few people laughing and yelling, “You should’ve caught it, Roland.”
I buried my face, burning with embarrassment, against Roland’s chest. I knew how stupid we must have looked lying there in the mud. Roland was laughing as he pulled me to my feet. He waved and bowed to the stands and then caught my hand, and we jogged over to the concession stand. “Napkins, please. And water if you have any.”
Mr. Webber shook his head
, and before handing Roland a stack of napkins and a paper cup of water, said, “Y’all should have known better than to stand so close to the foul line.”
I looked back at the field and saw our spilled Coke cups crumpled on the grass. He was right. “We’re idiots,” I said.
Behind the concession stand out of view of the crowd, Roland and I dipped our napkins in the water and wiped our arms and legs down. With a dry napkin, I rubbed my blouse and the front of my shorts, but ended up smearing the red mud instead of removing it. Roland hadn’t gotten nearly as much on him. Only one red streak down his chest and a quarter-size circle on his hip remained after he scrubbed his clothes. He took one of my napkins. “Here, let me see if I can get some of it off.”
He began with the left side of my blouse and worked his way around and up until I felt his palm on my breast rubbing and then caressing. I didn’t move away. The feeling I was having was just the same as when June had touched me. I wasn’t a lesbianism. Roland was definitely the opposite sex. I lifted my eyes just as he lifted his. “I better stop,” he said. “I shouldn’t have....”
I smiled. “It’s okay. Really.”
Roland dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes were on my breasts. “You sure don’t look your age, Layla Jay. Lots of girls in college would like to look like you, I’ll bet.”
“I’m nearly sixteen,” I lied. “Not that much younger than you.” He managed a half-smile. “Still too young for me.” He leaned over and picked up the scattered napkins on the ground. “Let’s go watch the rest of the game.”
I looked down at my thin blouse clinging to my body now. “I can’t. I look a mess.”
Roland stepped back and surveyed me from head to toe. “You do look pretty bad.” He tossed the napkins in the large metal can behind the stand.“Tell you what.You don’t live very far away. I’ll take you home and you can change quick, and I’ll bring you back before the game is over.”
“I don’t want you to have to miss the game.Your brother ...”