High School Sweetheart
Chapter 1
By Lauren Bliss
I remember it like it was yesterday; my father and I, riding down New York State Route 141, somewhere around Westchester County. He was a delivery man for a small furniture business run out of our hometown, Brooklyn, NY. That morning, his boss, Mr Albertson, had come by very early to dump a last minute job on him. My father, still drunk from the night before, tried to put him off, but the old, wry-faced codger made it very clear that it wasn’t a request. “Marvin’s got a baseball game today.” my father explained. “He could really make it in the big leagues one day, Mr Alberson. I can’t ask him to drop everything, last minute. How am I supposed to get this thing through someone’s front door by myself?” Marvin was my older brother. He dropped out of high school when he was fifteen and started working with our father to help keep food on the table. He was nineteen at that point. He’d usually spend his weekends playing baseball down at the park in the neighborhood league. One day, not a week prior, he was approached by a minor league recruiter. My father was over the moon. If he performed well in his game that day, it could be the start of an actual career as a ball player.
“You’re going to deliver this china cabinet today, Micky, or you’ll be looking for work somewhere else. It’s as simple as that.” It was no secret that my father was a drinker, and a gambler. It would have been a hard secret to keep anyway, since he always smelled of whiskey. He ran with a rough crowd, rarely ever coming home before I was in bed for the night. Mr Albertson knew all this, and probably felt justified giving my dad a hard time because of it, but the man was a pompous blowhard. I’m sure he felt powerful having the fundamental necessities another man needed in the palm of his hand, able to threaten their withdrawal on a whim. When I was little, I remember there being a clear cut line between the good guys and bad guys, but the older I got, the more apparent it was that that line was drawn on a beach during a hurricane. Good guys, and bad guys were for comic books. Real people were usually a little bit of both.
“Marion!” Dad shouted over his shoulder . I was sitting quietly on the sofa, reading Ray Bradburry. You see, my father had rigid ideas about what a man was supposed to be, and I wasn’t quite up to snuff. He and my brother were both about five foot eleven. They both had large feet, and large hands. They had chest hair, they drank dark liquor, they cussed, and they spit. I had often wondered if I was the milk man’s kid, since I was no taller than my mother, at five foot four inches. I shared her small frame, her wide hips, and her soft freckled complexion. Strangely, unlike anyone else in my household, I was graced with wavey auburn locks. Everyone else in my family had the darkest hair on the block, black as the night. When we went anywhere together, I stuck out like a sore thumb. When pressed about it, my mother would go on about her great grandfather’s bright orange curls, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. I don’t think my father did, either. “Put that book down, and get your ass over here! It’s time for you to step up!”
I remember, this one time, when I was a small child, he took me outside to play catch with him and my brother. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the game. It’s America’s pastime after all. Like everyone else in my neighborhood, if the Dodgers were playing, I was right there beside the radio. However, that love didn’t translate to skill. He tossed the ball across the sidewalk to my brother, who turned to face me, eagerly awaiting his throw. He tossed it underhand, the ball arching across the sky. I threw up my glove, but as the ball got closer, I winced, and closed my eyes, turning my head away. Ironically, my instinctual attempt at protecting myself left my face wide open, and my right eye was much less effective at catching a baseball than the glove would have been. Tears flowed down my cheeks, when my brother led me inside, apologizing for something that wasn’t really his fault. My mother grabbed some peas from the ice box, for the swelling, but I had that shiner for two weeks after that. My father stayed on the porch for the rest of the day, bottle in hand. Mom sent me out to get him for dinner, but he never set eyes on me. He just said, “I should never have let her give you that sissy name.” I don’t think he ever looked at me the same again.
The day we made that delivery was the first time he’d ever conscripted me to do any kind of work. I was actually kind of excited. It felt like an opportunity to prove myself to him. Usually I was relegated to helping my mom with dinner, while he and Marvin chopped wood for the furnace. Most of my chores and responsibilities were indoors. I didn’t mind the actual work, but I hated the derision I saw in his eyes when I set the table. Now, I was sitting shotgun, wearing the shiny new work boots I’d never had an occasion to wear before, and we were making the journey upstate.
We arrived at a nice house, with the biggest yard I’d ever seen. The driveway had two entrances that looped around. Once he parked, he hopped out with his clipboard, and rang the doorbell, while I waited by the tailgate of his truck. The lady of the house signed some papers, and we started unloading the furniture. He sent me up on the truck bed, and had me untie the rope. I eagerly complied, hoping to appear as an experienced laborer to the woman. Those hopes were dashed when it came time to move the piece. I pushed the cabinet to the end of the tailgate where my father was waiting, ready to lift the end. I jumped down to the ground, and started to lift my half off, but I had a hard time getting a good grip, and the edges dug painfully into the palms of my hands. When I raised it up, I could barely hang on to it. Try as I might, the pain was unbearable, and without having ever made a decision to do so, I released the walnut titan, and it fell straight to the ground. The glass doors, the mirror in the back, and the built in lighting fixture all shattered, spraying glass in every direction. A small shard cut the woman’s ankle, leaving her bleeding in her driveway, and her furniture destroyed. To say she was furious, would be an understatement.
She screamed, “I don’t know what kind of incompetent operation you’re running here, but you can be sure Mr Albertson will be hearing about this! Get out now!”
Through tears, I pleaded, “Ma’am, just let me clean this mess up first.” but to no avail.
She just said, “Get. Out.” and pointed to the road, teeming with rage. My father didn’t say a word. He just removed his keys from his pocket, and got in the truck. I jumped in the passenger seat, and started begging his forgiveness, swearing to do better next time. Still, not one word was uttered. We pulled into a liquor store, where he got out, walked in, walked back out, and started driving, brown bag in hand. He opened the bottle, and drank the entire thing before we were a mile down the road. I fixed my gaze to his face, looking for any sign of what was to come. His expression remained unchanged, all the way to the two lane highway.. A few miles down the road, there were woods on both sides of the road, not much else around. He put his foot all the way on the gas, and my father’s mouth moved suddenly, but no sound came out. Then, I saw a single tear flow down his cheek. He quietly said the words, “Fuck it all.” and the last thing I remember after that was his eyes closing, and the truck flipping over.
I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. The first thing I noticed was that I was covered in bandages from head to toe, and couldn’t move anything besides my eyes. I looked to the left, and saw my mother asleep in the chair beside me. I couldn’t see anything else but barren hospital walls. A doctor came in, and held a small flashlight to my eyes, flipping it on and off. He seemed pleased with whatever he saw, and asked me, “Do you know where you are? Blink twice for yes.”
I tried to say, “No.” but the sound was muffled, and I felt a pain in my jaw.
He noticed the discomfort in my eyes, and said, “Sorry about that. I’m sure that didn’t feel great. You were in a very bad car accident. You’re in a hospital in Pleasantville.”
Just then, probably because of the noise, my mother roused from her slumber. “Oh my god, baby, I thought I lost you.” she cried, kissing me on the head over and over again. She tried to give me a hug, but my cries of pain and the doctor dissuaded her.
“That’s enough Mrs Ryan. I know you’re happy your son is alive, but he’s in a lot of pain right now. You can hug him all you want when we get him good and healthy again.” She sat back down, and listened while the doctor continued explaining to me exactly what was going on. “You’ve sustained quite a few injuries, but the prognosis is good. With enough time, and patience on your part you should be able to make a full recovery. I have to warn you though; you’ve sustained several injuries. You have a fractured femur, a fractured growth plate in your wrist, you’ve got a few broken fingers on both hands, some hairline fractures in several places on both arms, and the biggest issue is going to be the three separate fractures in your pelvis. That’s going to take quite a bit of physical therapy. We’ve also got you in a neck stabilizer, but that’s precautionary. We need to make sure there’s nothing wrong with your spine first, since you can’t move now. If everything looks good after some test tomorrow, we’ll take that off, and you’ll probably be able to sleep better. Aside from that, you’ve got a broken jaw, nose, and orbital socket. We had to put in some hardware to allow everything to heal, so your jaw will be wired shut for a couple of months, and we put a couple of plates in your cheeks since your face was basically caving in on itself. We’ve got the best plastic surgeons in the country coming in for a consultation, and when they’re finished, no one will be able to tell anything was ever wrong in the first place. There may be some discoloration where they have to do skin grafts, but we won’t know until we get there. This would be extremely hard for anyone, but you’re going to have to stay strong until we get to the end. You can have a normal life again, but it’s going to be a long journey. I’ll give you the room, so you and your mother can talk. We’ll go over the treatment plan more in detail tomorrow. Get some rest tonight, doctor’s orders.”
He had said that my mom and I could talk, but really I’d just be listening. Even if I could have talked, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I was confused and terrified. The events leading up to the crash were fuzzy, but over time they would come back to me. At that moment though, all I could remember was my father’s tears. My mother picked up my hand and put it in hers. I could see my green eyes peeping through the bandages reflected in her glasses. She was trying her best not to cry, but it was obviously a struggle for her. She said, “Honey, I’m sorry, but your father didn’t make it. He was already dead when the ambulance got there. The police found an empty bottle near the crash site, but they couldn’t prove it was his, so the life insurance claim will be paid. You don’t need to worry about our finances, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything at all except getting better. We’re going to get you healthy. I’m sure your father was drunk. He should have never been driving with you like that. He knew better…God, I love you so much. I just need you to know it was not your fault.”
She kissed me on the forehead again, and held my hand for the next three hours, while I drifted in and out of consciousness. It was easy for her to say it wasn’t my fault, but from what I could remember, I felt like it was. I wanted to break down, but the pain wouldn’t allow it.
The next day, the doctor returned, with a physical therapist. For a few hours, they performed several tests. They stroked my skin in different places to see if I experienced any sensation. They moved my limbs around to test my range of motion. They had me attempt to wiggle my digits to test my ability to control my body. When all was said, and done, they didn’t replace the neck stabilizer, and I was incredibly grateful. Some physical therapists came back everyday from then on, and the routine repeated, becoming more difficult each time.
A week later, I saw the plastic surgeon for the first time. He didn’t offer much of an explanation of the procedures he’d be performing. I can only assume that was for my benefit. I’ve done a small amount of research since then, and I’d assume most people don’t want to think about another person removing their face, before they go to work on their skull with a drill. When the operation was completed he was pleased with the results, but we’d have to wait a few months before the bandages were removed.
The laundry list of procedures, and therapies I endured were physically taxing, and at times, extremely painful, though in a way, they were preferable to the eternal boredom that was the rest of my existence. Marvin visited me every few days for the first few months. He was jovial every time, but I could see the stress in his expression. My father was gone, and the weight of supporting our family now fell onto him. He came in one day with amazing news. He had received an offer from a minor league team down in North Carolina. He finally had an opportunity for an actual career in baseball. On top of that, he’d be able to send mom some help every month. The minors weren’t going to make him rich, but it was a necessary stepping stone to achieving his dream. He left the week before they unwired my jaw. I didn’t get to tell him that I was happy for him, and proud to call him my brother, but I think he knew.
When the wiring did come off, the first thing I did was tell my mom just how much I loved her. The second thing I did was ask for a nice big cheeseburger. After the first bite, I was nearly full. A few minutes later, I was nauseous. Apparently, that was a common occurrence for people who hadn’t had solid food in a while. It would be another month before I’d eat anything close to a full meal.
Two months passed, and it was time to remove the bandages from my face. The anticipation was palpable as the doctor unwound the smelly wrappings. I stared into the mirror, imagining spending the rest of my life as the elephant man, and everything that would entail. Seeing my face for the first time, my mother dropped to her knees then and there, and thanked God for the blessing. In the mirror, I could see that I still kind of looked like me, but things were a little different. My jawline seemed rounder, my cheeks seemed to have a plump quality that they didn’t have before, and my nose was much smaller. The skin grafts seemed to have taken well, and were only really noticeable if you knew what you were looking for. All in all, it was the best result we could have hoped for. I still looked like I’d gotten into a fight with a mac truck and lost, but time would heal these wounds. I just needed a little more patience.
A few days later, the doctor paid me another visit, bearing good news. “Mr Ryan, it looks like it’s time for us to let you go home. We’ve done everything we can here, and you’re healing up very well. We’re going to remove most of your stabilizers, but we will have to keep the pelvic cast on for a few more months. We’re transferring your care down to Brooklyn, where you’ll have to keep up with physical therapy for a while, but I’m confident that this time next year, you’ll be running laps around the neighborhood again.”
Mom was the happiest I’d seen her in months. She said, “Marion was never really the kind of boy to run laps around anything. He’s my little professor. It’ll be nice to see him outside of visiting hours, though.”
The doctor pushed his glasses up, and said, “Well, whatever the case, we’ll have him discharged tomorrow. Do you have transportation worked out?”
“Yes, my friend, Magda, will be picking us up, and we’ll make the trip back down, tomorrow. We’re fortunate enough to be staying with someone who owns a car in the city.” With my brother gone, and me in the hospital, my mother had decided it was time to scale down. The insurance payout was substantial, but so were my hospital bills. She was extremely frugal dealing with my father’s funeral. He didn’t have many friends, so a large service wasn’t necessary. I didn’t attend, but was later told that he was buried in what basically amounted to a pine box. When I later visited his grave, there was a modest headstone, with his name, his date of birth, and his date of passing. I’m surprised at how long it took me to realize there was no room for anyone else to be buried beside him. Even with the economical funeral service, the well was running dry, so my mom sold a lot of our things, and moved into a three bedroom apartment in Williamsburg, with the Kowalskis.
Magda Kowalski, her husband, and her two year old daughter, emigrated a few months before the Nazis invaded Poland. They moved into our neighborhood, Bushwick, where Magda, and my mother became fast friends. They two couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, always finding excuses to get together during the day while our fathers were at work. I vaguely remember the first time I played with Ela, their daughter. The kind of faint memory that you have of childhood, that’s nothing but a few faint details. She didn’t speak any English, not that it mattered too much at that age, but we were inseparable from then on. Sometimes, she can be very annoying, and absurdly pushy, but she was my best friend; the kind you can’t replace.
Mr Kowalski had been long gone for a few years before the accident. It was a tale as old as time. Dad ran out of cigarettes, so he left for the bodega, and just never came back. I never heard Magda speak of him again. Ela told me however, that she thought he probably left with another woman. Whatever the case, he was gone, and life went on without him.
When we arrived at the new apartment, the first issue we ran into was the stairs. Ela, being her usual exuberant self, knocked on every door in the building until she was able to find two strong men willing to carry me, and my wheelchair to the walkup. Magda thanked them with baked goods. Inside, my mother had set up my bed in the living room. She thought getting up and down the narrow hallways would be too much of a challenge for me. I didn’t mind. The television was there with me after all. Mom, and Magda said they’d be sharing a bedroom, so Ela and I could have our own. My empty room was in the back of the apartment, waiting for me to heal.
Over the next several days, a new routine was established. Mom would wake up early, and help me deal with my morning toilet. After I gave myself a sponge bath, I’d change into a fresh nightshirt, and we’d go back to the living room. Ela would get up, and take over the bathroom, while Mom cooked breakfast for us. I would take my meal where I lay, obviously, on a bed tray, and Ela would join me with a TV tray while we watched the morning news together. When we finished, Ela would clean the kitchen while Mom got herself ready, and then she’d be out the door to school. Mom, without fail, would kiss me on the forehead, and make her way to work. Before she married my father, she was a seamstress. She actually met my father while working backstage at a Broadway theater when he was making a delivery one day. Now, she was back at it, having acquired a position with the new production of Peter Pan. After they left, I’d normally be on my own for a few hours until Magda arrived.
Magda worked as an emergency room nurse, and was usually out of the door long before the rest of us awoke. She’d get home shortly after noon, and prepare lunch for the two of us while we chatted. Then she’d watch her stories. At the time, I feigned disinterest, but secretly, I found the plots compelling, and only turned my eyes from the screen and back to my books just before the commercials. Not too long after that, Ela would return, carrying a backpack filled with her homework, and whatever she brought me to read from the library. After my mom came home, we’d all eat dinner together. I’m glad they invented the T.V. tray, because at that point, I’d take all the human contact I could get.
Some people might think the worst part about recovering from serious injury is the pain. Others might think it’s the hours of exhausting physical therapy. Don’t get me wrong. It’s extremely hard learning to perform the most basic of functions all over again, only with a body significantly less cooperative than it was the first time around. In fact, all of it was hard, but worst of all, dealing with that much boredom was nearly impossible.
I must have read every book I owned three times. I read every book Ela brought me from the library. I read all of the magazines Ela left around. I finished two dozen jigsaw puzzles. I wrote my brother a letter every week. I read the entire newspaper every day. I did the exercises just as my physical therapist instructed. I watch a lot of television. I caught every baseball game. I even listened to Ela drone on about whatever was happening with her and her friends at school that day. Even with all those activities, I still spent so much more time, staring at the wall, and dreaming of the day I could negotiate the stairs by myself, just to go out for a walk. The weekly PT visits were hard, and took a lot out of me, but it was a blessing to see anything besides the same four walls, day in and day out. This routing went on for months, with little variance.
One afternoon, Ela, having just returned from school, was sitting beside my bed, as she usually did. That day however, she’d chipped a nail, so while we conversed, she filed away the damage, and repainted her nails. “What do you think?” she asked cheerfully. She fanned out her hand, and showed off her fingertips, glistening with smooth, clear polish.
I said, “They look great, especially compared to mine.” I held out my hand for comparison, laughing over the difference. It’s hard to find a reason to keep up with grooming rituals when you’re not really going anywhere, and no one is coming to see you. My nails had grown quite long, especially for a boy, though they were far from the neatly manicured talons of Ela. They were uneven, and rough, regularly snagging on my bed sheets.
She responded, “That won’t do.” and proceeded to file away at my digits, not thinking to ask for permission. I didn’t say anything. I just watched her expertly shape them into something neat and presentable. I did protest when she applied a coat of clear polish but she assured me, “No one is going to see you anyway, and it will help keep your cuticles from fraying. Be quiet, and let me have my fun.” From then on, nail care became a regular part of our weekly ritual.
When the accident occurred, I was already a month overdue for a haircut. Times were tight then, so we tended to push those kinds of things off for as long as possible. Since I usually wore my hair in a longer greaser style, by then my bangs were hanging down to my nose. Seven months later, they were down to my chin, the rest not far behind. I was “blessed” with a double crown, so my hair grew forward, and was constantly in my face. It was a Saturday afternoon when I finally experienced some relief. I’d spent the morning swatting away at it, like a mule swatting away the flies with its tail. Magda had had enough, and in a huff, went to her and my mother’s bedroom, and returned with a handful of bobby pins. When she’d finished with me, my hair was parted on the side, and pulled back behind my ears. I feared I looked a fool, but after she brought me a mirror, nothing looked that strange. It was the best band-aid solution anyone could come up with until I could get to a barber. After that, Ela would help me pin my hair up every morning before she left.
Summer was a welcome change, since Ela was home everyday with me. Slowly, but inevitably, time marched on, and I began to show progress. It started by being able to stand on my own two legs again, without the assistance of anyone or anything. Small steps followed, and from there bigger and bigger steps. Not too much later, I was making my way around the apartment on my own. The adults were insistent that I not try to help with the dishes, or anything, but being able to go to the bathroom by myself, or fix myself a glass of water was a big help to not only me, but everyone else as well. Not too long after that, I was as mobile, and pain free as I ever was. The only impediment left was that god-awful cast.
The day the doctor told me I'd be getting the pelvic cast off, I nearly cried. It had been so long since I wore trousers, I’d nearly forgotten what they felt like. An appointment was set for Saturday morning at the hospital. They had some kind of vibrating saw that would cut through the paster, but not the skin. Needless to say, I was ecstatic.
When we got home, I spent a lot of time in the bathroom mirror, thinking about everything that had led me to this point. I was so happy about removing the cast, that for the first time since, I’d forgotten the tragedy that caused it in the first place. In the mirror, I barely recognized myself. It was still me, but my features were much softer. The swelling had passed, and the bruising with it, but my cheeks remained swollen, as did my upper lip. Before I had a pretty pronounced pout, but now top and bottom seemed to match perfectly. The angles of my jaw were much softer, and the little dip in the tip of my nose was long gone, not to mention just how much smaller said nose seemed to be. It truly wasn’t that different, but the large slope that plagued my mom’s family was long gone. Ela said my new nose was cute, but that wasn’t as reassuring as she’d hoped.
The Friday before my big day, I was awake before Mom, and Ela. I tried to get a jump on things when I heard Mom rusting, so I started my morning routine. I assumed she’d bring me a new nightshirt any minute, but for the first time since returning to New York City, it didn’t happen. Even more surprising was hearing her shout, “Shit!” from across the house. Nancy Ryan was not the type to swear, so whatever had her upset must have been pretty bad. She came down the hallway, and knocked on the bathroom door when I was brushing my teeth. Through the door she shouted, “Honey, I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I’m very sorry.”
“What’s wrong Mom?” I asked, assuming she’d burned breakfast or something.
She replied, “I forgot to add your laundry to the bin, so when Magda went to the laundromat yesterday, none of your things were washed.”
I was confused. “What does that mean for me then?”
“Well, you don’t have any clean nightshirts to wear. I’ve been trying to find an adequate substitute, but really there’s just one thing I can find that will work.” She cracked the bathroom door, and offered a bundle of cloth. I held it under the light and realized it was a soft nylon material in a shade of mint green. I held it up, and let the ends fall to the floor, realizing then why Mom was being so apologetic. It was one of Ela’s nightgowns.
I dropped it on the floor like it was made of fire ants, and shouted, “You can’t seriously expect me to wear this!”
“I don’t care for your tone, Marion.” she said, chastising me, before continuing, “It’s just for today. Tomorrow, we’ll cover you with a blanket, when we go to the hospital, and you can change into pants before we leave. It’ll be fine. I’m running late for work already, so I just need you to swallow your pride for one day. Could you please do that for me?” Her words seemed like a question, but her tone made it clear that it was a command, and I knew better than to argue. I didn’t say a word. I just put the flimsy garment on, and stepped out of the bathroom, my face as crimson as wine. “That wasn’t so bad.” she said, but I was inclined to disagree. I moped back to the bed, and crawled under the covers. Not long after that, Mom ran out, half dressed, still carrying her gloves and hat.
The slamming door must have roused Ela, who came through the living room while heading to the kitchen for her morning coffee. She yawned “Good morning.” and continued with her routine. Once I heard the percolator going, she poked her head back around the doorway with the biggest grin I’d seen her with since I’d moved in. “Is that mine?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
I hung my head in embarrassment, and muttered, “Mom forgot my laundry so she made me wear this instead.”
“Well I must say, you look great! Wait here, just one second!” She hurried to her bedroom, and came back holding something behind her back. “Close your eyes for me.” I obliged, and felt her pulling my hair back as she normally did. When I opened them again, she was holding a mirror to my face, and I could see instead of bobby pins, she’d used a large, white alice band to pull back my locks. My hair fell down to the back of my neck at this point, so the accessory didn’t look out of place. If anything I was kind of pretty. I started to reach for the offending fabric band, but Ela grabbed my hands, and looked at me pleadingly. She pouted, “Don’t take it down yet, please. Let me have this for a little bit. You’re just so pretty. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” She offered her pinky, and after a moment of hesitation, I raised mine, and as we had a thousand times before, we locked them, and kissed the knuckles of our thumbs. This was a sacred unbreakable bond to us, so I felt somewhat reassured. “Good! I’m going to get dressed, and run down to the bodega. Do you want anything?” I shook my head no, and in a flash, she was dressed and gone.
I was by myself for around thirty minutes, while awaiting her return. I tried to pick up a book and start reading several times, but over and over, I was drawn back to the mirror. I examined my reflection from every angle. My new face suited the get up, that was for sure. It was kind of amusing. I found myself playfully flirting with my reflection, batting my eyelashes suggestively, and blowing myself kisses. When I heard the deadbolt turn, I couldn’t drop the mirror fast enough though.
Ela had returned, and she was carrying a few shopping bags, and two bottles of pop. She handed me one of them, and retrieved a bottle opener from the kitchen. After she opened our drinks, she said, “I’ve got a surprise for you. I went a little further down the road to the Connolly’s butcher shop. So, they live upstairs. Their daughter, Eileen, was home, and we had a chat. You know, she’s got that same celtic mane as you. Anyway, I borrowed something.” Ela opened her purse, and pulled out a long, thick strand of red hair.
“You told me you wouldn’t tell anybody!” I said, getting upset.
“I didn’t, I didn’t!” she replied gleefully, holding the hairpiece up to my own strands, and comparing the color. “I just told her I needed it since a friend was thinking of trying a new style. It’s just about perfect, I’d say. Now, sit still while I have my way with you.” I playfully swatted at her, but in the end, she’d brushed my hair back, and tied it high on my head, pinning the fly aways down. She added the hairpiece over the top of the little pulled back nub, and when all was said and done, I had a flirty ponytail, not dissimilar to those worn by many other teenage girls at the time. She tied off the top with a big white ribbon, and I quickly returned to the mirror to examine the results.
The color really wasn’t that different at all. I hardly looked like myself at this point, and not an ounce of maleness was detectable in my reflection. Ela didn’t even bother to ask before starting our nail routine. This time, she just filed down the rough spots, but left them close to the same length. She reached for the shopping bag, and came back with a brand new bottle of bright red nail polish, saying, “I’ve been saving my allowance for a while, so I thought it was time to treat myself.” Instinctively, I pulled my hand away, but her puppy dog eyes quelled the fight before it even started this time, andwhen she was finished, I was sitting with my fingers splayed, each sporting a bright red nail, manicured to perfection. When they dried, Ela begged me to do hers for her. It occurred to me that she’d spent the last year neglecting most of her female friendships to help take care of me, so I relented. Her nails obviously weren’t as neat or as smooth as mine, but I did a reasonable job, and I think she was happy just to share the ritual with another person.
We were so engrossed that neither of us noticed the apartment door that Ela, in her mischievous excitement had mistakenly left cracked open. We didn’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs either. We did, however, hear the knocking that inadvertently swung the door open wide. The boy standing there with his arm raised, looked as terrified as we did. In retrospect, it was pretty funny, but at the time, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow the apartment building whole. Instinctively, he held his hand over his eyes, saying, “Ladies, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the door was open. My mom is always telling me to pay more attention to what I’m doing. God, I’m so stupid.” He started swatting himself on the head, admonishing himself, when Ela got up from the bed and walked over to him.
“Archie Connolly, you’re not stupid.” she said, gently taking his hand, preventing him from striking himself again. “It was an honest mistake. If anything, it’s all my fault for not closing the door all the way. What are you doing here?”
The red haired boy removed his hand from his eyes, but he still blushed like he’d stumbled into the girls’ locker room at school. “I got home a little bit after you left, I guess, and you left your coin purse, so my mom sent me after you to bring it. I almost ran straight to your old place too, but fortunately my mom caught me before I took off. Your mom’s got a credit account with us, so we had your new address on file.”
“I don’t know how new it is.” Ela said, batting her eyelashes at the sheepish boy. “We’ve been here for about a year now. Where have you been?” God, she was such a flirt. He didn’t stand a chance.
“I…uhh…yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you since we…uhh…we moved…I guess.” He was struggling to find the words, but his expression said everything. Archie was smitten. “You must have started school here right after I graduated. You’re sixteen now, right?”
“Uh Huh, going on seventeen. Marion here, just turned seventeen a couple of weeks ago.” she said, pointing her thumb back at me without turning her head. Meanwhile, I was torn between the desire to rip her head off, and die right then and there from shame.
“Oh right, hi…uhh…Marion…” Archie said, with a clumsy wave, finally acknowledging my existence. “I don’t remember you from school. Are you sisters? Wait…no…of course not. Cousins?” Of course he didn’t remember me from school. We’d never said a word to each other. He lettered in football, and I hid in the library during lunch period. Why would we? Still, he wasn’t one of the guys who tortured me. To me, he was more like God’s greatest taunt, demonstrating what I was supposed to be, but would never actually become.
Ela must have been so distracted by the hunky boy that she forgot what I was wearing, because her expression showed genuine surprise when she turned back to face me. The muscular hunk she was drooling over must have short-circuited her brain or something. She fumbled to find an answer to his question, “Marion is, uhh…well… she’s a family friend. Her and her mother have been living here for a while. She was in a really bad accident, so she’s been stuck in bed for a while now. It’s an exciting time, actually. Tomorrow, she’s got one more doctor’s appointment and she’s finally free of that stupid bed. We’ll probably have to tie her up just to get her back home tomorrow night.” I couldn’t believe it. She just went with the truth. The only thing she changed was my pronouns.
“Congratulations, Marion.” Archie said, smiling politely, before immediately returning all of his attention to Ela. “Can I call you, sometime?”
“Yeah, let me find a pen, and paper.” she replied eagerly, while looking around the room.
He just politely waved, and said, “No need. We’ve got it on your card at the shop. I’ll ring this evening.”
“Just don’t call during dinner. Mother won’t let us answer the phone then.” she hurried to say, before he closed the door snugly behind him.
“I can’t believe you!” I shrieked as soon as the door latched. “Why didn’t you just say I was a visiting cousin or something?”
She waved her hand dismissively, saying, “Don’t worry about it, Marion. We’ll just tell him it was a prank later. He’ll probably get a kick out of it. It’s not like he’s a giant asshole or anything. He’s always been very sweet to me.”
“To you, sure!” I said, waving my arms around her like I was losing my mind. “You’re a pretty girl. I went to school with him for two years and he never even took the time to learn my name!”
“To be fair, you never spoke to him either. You don’t know how he would have treated you if you’d given him the chance. It’ll be fine, I promise. Just calm down, okay.” Ela took a seat on the bed again, and gave me those same pleading eyes that always got her what she wanted. This time wasn’t any different.
“Okay fine.” I said, taking a deep quivering breath. “I need to get out of this stuff now though.” I held up the mirror, and started to reach for the ponytail, but Ela grabbed me by the wrist, and pinned me down onto the bed. She straddled my torso, and pinned my arms down with her knees. We were about the same size, but I’d spent the last year stuck in bed, so obviously she was in much better shape, and had no qualms using that fact to her advantage.
“You have to wait for Mother and Nancy to see you.” I wanted to be mad, but it was hard when she was being so silly about it. “Seriously, I’ll never stop tickling you if you mess up my hard work.”
I said, “You wouldn’t.” and made the meanest face I could. Instead of being menacing, she found it extremely funny. She used one hand to hold my wrist together, and the other to start playfully poking at my ribs. “No, stop!” I squealed, thrashing away beneath her weight to no avail. It only took thirty seconds, and I was begging for mercy. “Okay, okay, you win, you win.” I sputtered. I was nearly out of breath when she finally relented.
“Promise you’ll keep it all on till our moms get home.” she commanded. She was brandishing her claws like the torture devices they were, so I felt inclined to agree.
“Fine, I promise. I’ll wait till they get back. Just don’t tickle me anymore, please.” I said, with tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks.
“Okay, I won’t.” She got off of me, and turned like she was going to walk away, but in a flash turned back around, and tackled me to the bed again saying, “After this one last time that is.”
Needless to say, she had to repair my hair after she’d had her fun with me. Her mom got home first, and gushed over my appearance. Magda was so ecstatic, she kept going on in polish, cupping my cheeks in her hand, and kissing me on the forehead. Ela told me later she was saying something about how I looked so much like her little sister. When Magda finally calmed down, she cooked us both lunch. She was usually pretty affectionate with me, but it seemed like she was especially touchy feely with me that day. Any excuse to kiss my head, or trap me in a squeezing embrace was taken.
Six in the evening came and passed, and my mom was still nowhere to be found. She was usually home by then, but we’d finished eating dinner, and we were halfway through the evening news before we heard the familiar click of her heels coming up the stairs. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.” she said, after opening the door. Facing away from us, she dropped her keys in the hutch by the door, and removed her gloves one finger at a time, while continuing, “I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” Instead of an answer, all she heard was the snickering of Magda, and Ela, sitting on the sofa beside me. Mom turned to see what all the commotion was about, and that’s when she noticed for the first time, that her baby boy she left in a nightgown that morning, was looking much more like her baby girl now. “Well, what do we have here?” she asked, smirking. I could tell she was trying to keep a straight face, but was clearly thoroughly amused.
“Ela decided to have some fun with me, today.” I said, blushing as red as my mother’s lipstick.
“I can see that.” she replied, scrutinizing my appearance, with a fascinated expression. “Should I be budgeting for a prom dress at the end of the school year?”
“Absolutely not!” I nearly shouted.
“I know, baby, I was just picking on you.” She patted me on the cheek, and kissed me on the forehead in a way only a mom can do. “Seriously though, you look wonderful. It’s a hoot.”
I remember the overwhelming confusion I was experiencing well. The effusive praise of my family was in direct opposition to the voice of my father playing on repeat in my mind, calling me a sissy as he always did, with such venom in his voice. My heart was torn between pride, and shame, and it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I’d ever dealt with in my short seventeen years. I quickly changed the subject, asking, “You said you had good news, and bad news. What’s the good news?”
Mom took a deep breath in preparation, and gleefully spouted, “The four of us are to take a nice vacation for Christmas to sunny California, instead of being stuck here, in this cold, wet popsicle. We’re going to the newly opened Disneyland!”
“That’s amazing!” Ela nearly screamed, jumping up and down with glee. “Everyone’s going to be so jealous!” Everyone had seen the park on the news. It looked like a dream to visit.
“That’s wonderful news.” Magda said, smiling pleasantly, but ever the pragmatist. she added, “We’re going to have to go shopping before then. I’m going to need several new outfits before then. I better start saving now.”
“What’s the bad news?” I asked, snapping everyone from their reverie.
My mom took a seat next to me in bed, and placing her hand on my knee, said, “I have a friend who’s been working for the park since before they opened. I received a telegram from her this morning at work, and they’re having some kind of costuming emergency.”
“A costuming emergency?” I said, incredulously. “I didn’t know such a thing could even exist.”
“Oh yes.” Mom replied, stroking my hair, and running her fingers down the ponytail. “I mean, emergency is a subjective term, but Mr Disney seems to think so. He’s not satisfied with some of the costumes a lot of the cast members wear. He wants new costumes made, precisely to his specifications, before next week. I’ve been invited to come assist. I’ll be fairly compensated, and our entire family will get to go to their holiday event, all expenses paid. I checked with my stage manager, and he gave me the week off. Even if we didn’t take the vacation, it would still be worth the effort. The checks from your brother have been extremely helpful, but I’d like to give him the ability to spend his own money on himself for once.”
I took a moment to process all the information, and then asked, “So, when do you have to leave?”
“That’s the bad news. If I accept the job, I have to leave tonight. The flight leaves at eleven.”
“So, you won’t be there tomorrow when I get the cast off?”
“I won’t, Baby, but Magda and Ela will, and I’ll be there in spirit. We’ll go out and do something special when I get back. Besides, you won’t want me cramping your style anyway. You’ll hardly be here, I’m sure. Monday, you’ll have to get registered for school on your own too, but you’re nearly an adult. I trust you can manage. I promise, I’ll call and let you know when I get there safely. With this job, we can afford the long distance.”
I was disappointed, but I knew my mother worked hard to support me, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad. I slapped on the happiest face I could, and said, “Okay, Mom, I understand. Go to California, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
She hugged me tightly, and said, “Thank you for being so understanding, Marion. Mothers dream of a child as wonderful as you, but I’m blessed to not have to.”
She kissed me on the cheek, and locked eyes with me. I asked, “You don’t think it’s queer for me to be sitting here, wearing this outfit.”
“It’s certainly not what I expected to come home to, but I think you’re being a good sport about it.” I believed her. In retrospect, I probably could have come home dressed like a chicken, and she would have still loved me more than anything. “Besides, Mary Martin is playing Peter Pan in our show, and she’s in line to win a Tony for it this year. Clothes don’t make you who you are, and they certainly don’t stifle exceptionalism. You’re quite exceptional, my little dove.”
Just then, the phone rang, and Ela answered it. “Kowalski-Ryan residence…Oh hi!... Yes…Okay…We’d love to…Okay…See you then…Bye bye.” When she hung up, her smile was saccharine.
“Who was that?” her mom asked.
“Just a friend, mother.” Ela answered, knowing what her mom was actually asking. “There’s a group going dancing tomorrow night, and it was just an invite.”
“Okay, fine, but you better be home by eleven.” Magda warned, then added, “You should take Marion with you too. It’ll be his first night out in a long time. Don’t abandon him, Ela.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” she said, wearing a cheshire grin, and then patted me on the shoulder as she walked to her room. I couldn’t shake an ominous feeling the rest of the night.
My sentence was over, and I was finally free. The day I’d spent months waiting for had finally arrived, and I found myself stretched out across a cold, metal examination table. I was wearing a hospital gown, but it did little, if anything to warm me while I shivered, alone in the quiet room. There was a soft knock on the door, followed by the doctor entering, and his nurse behind him. “Marion, right?” he asked, while flipping through my chart.
“Yes, sir.” He set the clipboard down, and the nurse pulled the thin blanket I was covered with off of me, exposing the paper mache, crotchless shorts, that had been the bane of my existence for the last year.
He fit two fingers down the waist, and said, “It looks like you’ve gained quite a bit of weight since you’ve been stuck in that thing. I’m guessing your mother’s a good cook?”
I smiled, and replied, “The best, sir.”
He returned a warm smile, and asked, “Are you ready to get this thing off?”
“Definitely, sir.” The nurse had just finished setting up the equipment, so the doctor flipped on the machine, and set to task with the small, wheel-shaped saw. I was apprehensive when he started. Having a vibrating blade that close to your genitals would probably make anyone a little scared. My worries proved unfounded though because if anything the sensation tickled. I giggled so hard that I unclenched my fist for the first time since they walked in.
“I love your nail polish.” the nurse teased, when she noticed my crimson fingernails. “That’s a cute color on you. My face flushed with shame, and my cheeks matched my nails perfectly.
“Let me guess.” the doctor said, clearly finding the whole situation humorous. “Your sister got a hold of you while you were stuck in bed.”
“Something, like that.” I replied, balling my fist again, and dreaming of the revenge Ela had coming. She could have said something last night about running out of polish remover, but she didn’t say a word.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” he said, trying to comfort me. “It happens much more often than you’d think.” The doctor finished his two cuts, and said, “Moment of truth.” He lifted the top half of the cast off. I was expecting something, but it wasn’t the foulest odor I’d ever had the displeasure of sniffing. I nearly vomited. “Don’t be embarrassed about the smell, either. That literally happens to everyone. I’ll bet you’ll be taking a nice long hot shower when you get home.” I lifted my pelvis off the table, and they pulled the bottom of the cast from underneath me. The doctor examined my midsection, and seemed satisfied with what he found. “So, the cast was there for a while, so you’re going to see some impressions around your waist where the cast didn’t leave room to expand. Don’t worry about it. It’s just like the weird heads newborn babies have. Just give it a little time, and you’ll be back to normal. Just take it easy for a few more weeks, so we can be sure everything is behaving. I seriously doubt you want to find yourself back in a cast for any amount of time. No heavy lifting. No running. Walking is going to seem kind of foreign since you can actually move your thighs now, but you’ll get the hang of it, soon enough. It’s like riding a bike. Any questions for me?”
“No sir. Thank you so much.” It was the most joyous I’d felt in a long time. I was free, and I was loving it. They left the room, and I got up to get dressed. When I went to slide up my underwear, that’s when I saw exactly what the doctor was talking about. My waist was still the slim twenty-eight inches it was when I started, but beneath that, my hips, rear, and thighs had swollen to strange proportions. To me, it looked like my butt had been stung by a thousand bees. Also, on top of where the cast was, I’d also put on some weight. It was the first time I didn’t see the outline of my ribs through my skin. Out of curiosity, I stepped on the nearby scale by the door. I fidgeted with the weights until everything balanced out, and sure enough, I’d gained about thirty pounds. I was the heaviest I’d ever been in my life, not that I was large, but it was definitely new. My briefs were so tight that you could barely see the silhouette of my privates which were now firmly pressed into my body. I’d definitely be exercising every day from then on.
After my thorough appraisal of my frame, I slipped into my plaid button down, and my blue jeans. The jeans barely made it over my hips, but at my waist they still fit okay. I tucked in my shirt, and after collecting my shoes and socks, I stepped out into the lobby where Magda, and Ela were waiting on the edge of their seats. As soon as she saw me, Magda leapt from her seat, and showered me with affection, and praises. I was up, I was walking under my own power, and on top of all that I was wearing pants. It’s funny the things we take for granted, until they’re gone. “Your mother can probably fix those when she gets back.” she said, holding me at arms length and examining me from head to toe.
Magda pulled me back in for another tight hug. She nearly squoze the life out of me, but Ela came to my rescue. “Mom, you’re going to break his ribs, and then we’ll be stuck here even longer. I’m sure Marion is ready to get home, and take a shower.” she said, waving her hand in front of her nose. Ela never missed an opportunity to rib me.
I said, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I know I’d appreciate it.
“You’re right, you’re right.” Magda said, taking one last long look at me. “I need to get to work anyway. Esther is a tyrant. You’ve heard me go on enough about what a nightmare she is. I had to beg to be here now, and I’m working extra shifts tomorrow morning to make up the time. I’m so proud of you though, Serduszko. It’s been a hard road, but you made it. I can’t wait to tell your mother all about it when she calls.”
We made the trip back to Williamsburg with the wheel chair folded up, and stuffed in the back with Ela. I’d have been happy leaving it there, or setting it on fire even, but Magda was insistent that we find someone less fortunate that could use it. When we got home, she made Ela and I some lunch, and left us with stern instructions for our day. “Marion, all of your suitcases, and boxes are still packed up in your bedroom, so you’ll need to get your room arranged to your liking. Ela, help him break down the bed, and set it back up where it goes. I’m sure you don’t need a reminder, but just in case, don’t forget to take a shower. I know you both are planning to go out tonight, but just make sure your chores are done before you leave. I’m leaving four dollars for you both to share. That should be enough for a trip to the barber shop, the train fare, dinner, and a little extra in case of an emergency. Ela, stay close to Marion, and if anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me. Be back before eleven, or you’ll both be grounded. I’m not joking. Eleven. I probably won’t see you till tomorrow night at the earliest, but don’t break the rules. I’ll know. Be good, children.” She collected her cap, purse, and gloves, and kissed us on top of the head. “I love you both. Have fun tonight. Ela, be good.” After that, she was gone.
“Why’s she always telling me to be good?” Ela asked, dropping her sandwich back on the plate.
Without missing a beat, I replied, “Because you’re bad.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” she said, smirking. “Let’s take care of the bed. We’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know if I’m going to go out with you guys tonight. I know your mother thinks I should, but your friends aren’t really my friends. We can just tell her I went.”
“We can figure it out later.” she said dismissively. “Let’s do this now. I want to get it over with.” I might have been slightly older, but it was obvious who was in charge. I finished my meal, and placed my plate in the sink. I walked down the narrow hallway past the bathroom. I’d been in the tiny apartment for months at this point, and it was the first time I’d seen that part. The first room on the left was Ela’s. It was a good size for a New York City bedroom. She had her walls decorated with collage art she’d made, and several paintings of flowers. Her white framed twin bed was pushed into the back corner, across from her desk, and the floor was covered in various garments. Ela was never the most organized person.
The next room on the left was the master bedroom. I peeked in to see the two twin beds our mothers slept in with the little brown night stand between them. Everything had a place, but the room was still packed full, since it was occupied by two women in their late thirties instead of the husband and wife it was intended for. At the end of the hall was my room. All of my things were stacked up in the corner, waiting for me to sort them. It was pretty dusty, but it wasn’t a bad room. Sure, I wouldn’t have the T.V. at my disposal anymore, but it was worth it to finally have some privacy. I propped the door open, and decided where I wanted my bed to go.
Ela and I broke the bed down, and clumsily slid it across the carpeted floors to its new home. After it was reassembled, I fitted it with new sheets, and fell back into it, basking in the pleasure of having a space that was just my own. “Okay, you need to start getting ready now.” Ela said, pulling me back to reality. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, if you’re coming out tonight.”
I sniffed my armpit, and said, “You’re right, I need a shower, but I thought we already talked about this. I don’t want to go tonight.”
“But, I need you too!” she shouted, stamping her foot like a child.
I sat up, perplexed. “Why do you need me to?” She lowered her eyes and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. “I have no idea what you just said.”
“That’s because it’s not a group thing. It’s a double date.”
“You set me up on a date, and didn’t tell me? Who is it with?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. One of Archie’s friends.”
“Of course this is about Archie. That guy is as dumb as a box of hammers.”
With a lustful expression, she said, “Yeah, but he’s got plenty of other qualities to make up for it.”
I was definitely getting irritated. She was always doing things like that. Ever since we were kids, she would hatch all kinds of plans and schemes, assuming I was along for the ride, though never actually asking. I can count the number of times I was grounded on one hand, and every single one of those involved Ela somehow. “I don’t understand though. Why is Archie helping a girl get a date? Is something wrong with her?” She mumbled another inaudible response. It then dawned on me exactly what she was planning. “Absolutely not.”
“Pleeeease.” She begged, with the same pout that usually plowed through my will. This was different though. She was asking a lot more than usual.
“No. You can’t seriously expect me to go on a date with a boy.” I grimaced at the thought.
“Please, it’s just one time. Do it for me before you chop off all that hair.”
“No.”
“Seriously, it’s one date. We’re going to Manhattan and watching Archie’s friend’s band play at some coffee shop in the village.. They’re taking us to a malt shop first, so you’ll get a free meal out of it. You can keep all the extra money Mom left. Do it for me, please. No one will know besides you and me. I mean, you looked so pretty yesterday, and Archie had no idea. Imagine how good you’ll look if you actually wore makeup.”
I did, in fact, start to imagine myself dolled up for a night on the town, but felt ashamed and shoved the thought back out as fast as it came in. “I said no, Ela. That’s that.”
“I haven’t been out on a real date since you’ve been back, you know. I’m not saying it’s your fault, but you are the reason. I’ve spent all my time here with you, taking care of you, and worrying about you, Marion. Have you felt lonely once, since all that stuff happened?” She was right. She had been there for me the entire time, and she didn’t have to be.
I hung my head off the foot of my bed, and kicked my feet behind me, like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum “I know, Ela, but you’re asking a lot. I’m a boy. I don’t know the first thing about being a girl on a date. If anybody finds out, that’s it for me. I’ll never be able to show my face outside again.”
“I promise, no one will know. I’ll be right there with you. I’ll give you a crash course in feminine deportment before we leave. It shouldn’t be that hard for you to pick up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked the question, but I already knew the answer.
“Nothing…you’re just smart. I’m sure you’ll pick up on it quickly. I wouldn’t normally ask this, but Archie insisted it be a double date. He made plans with this guy long before yesterday, and he didn’t want to cancel on him, but he really wanted to bring me too. He just doesn’t want to make that guy a third wheel. Archie assumed you’d be on board, because you’ve been cooped up for so long. Archie’s a gentleman. This guy’s probably one too. He’s probably a little nerdy even, so he shouldn’t get handsy. I need this, Marion. I’ll owe you big time.”
“What could you possibly offer that would square us up?”
“Anything. A blank check. You can ask me to do anything anytime and I’ll do it, no protest, no questions asked. Please, Marion. By the time I’m finished with you, not a soul would think you’re a boy. You do such a good impression of me anyway. Just do that, but scale it back so you’re not such a caricature, and no one will be the wiser.” She sat on the bed beside me, and started stroking my hair, while I buried my face in my pillow. “Pretty please, with sugar on top.”
I lifted my head, and turned to face her. She was pouting again, but this time, I could see the smile she’d hidden behind it. She knew she’d already won. “Okay, fine!” I shouted, forcing myself back upright. “You said, a blank check. I’m going to hold you to that.” I offered my pinky, and she accepted. With our ritual complete, the contract was effectively signed. “So, what do I have to do?”
“Well, first things first, you stink. I know you were looking forward to a shower, but today, we’re taking a bath instead.” Ela hopped up from my bed, and headed straight for the bathroom, while I trailed behind her. She started running the bathwater, and poured some perfumed liquid in with it. I thought it smelled wonderful at first. When I realized I was going to smell like that in a few minutes, that penetrating shame returned, and I hated myself for enjoying it. “I’m going to get some things together.” Ela said, pulling me from my thoughts. Get in the tub, and close the curtain till I return. I need to bring you some things, and I don’t think either of us want me looking at your privates.”
She left the bathroom, and I stripped down. Before I got in the tub, I caught sight of my reflection in the full length mirror that was on the back of the bathroom door. It wasn’t the wasp waist of years past, but my midsection was very small, especially compared to the flesh around it. I took some comfort in the doctor’s words earlier, so I wasn’t too stressed about it. Still, my body had changed a lot since the previous year. I couldn’t help but be concerned.
It occurred to me that Ela wouldn’t knock, so I hurried into the tub, and pulled the curtain closed behind me. The water was so warm on my feet. From there, I lowered myself slowly, adjusting bit by bit to the temperature change, until right before my privates were about to hit the water. I took a deep breath, and took the plunge. Once I was fully submerged, I layed back into the curve of the tub, and soaked it all in. This was the most pleasant thing I’d experienced in over a year. My bones warmed, and a relaxing sensation took over.
When Ela returned, I heard her set some things on the toilet seat. “Wash your face, and your body. You can get your hair wet, but don’t wash it. Leave that to me, okay? Once you get out, I’ve got some things for you to wear on the commode. When you’re decent, shout for me, and I’ll come help you with everything else.” She was already gone before I even had a chance to respond. I was fine with that. I let the warmth of the bath wash over me, and it was the most relaxed I’d been in months. My rear was a little tender pressed into the hard porcelain, but it was worth it. My skin started pruning up, so I quickly washed my face, and my body, then stepped out of the draining tub.
On the toilet seat, I found a pair of white satin panties, and a fluffy blue dressing gown. Once I was covered, I called for Ela. She came back down the hallway from her room with her arms loaded. She dropped the mess into the bathroom sink, and fished out her electric shaver. I didn’t have much hair on my body, but there was fuzz under my armpits, and my calves. That was gone with a few deft swipes. Next, she found her tweezers, and started in on my eyebrows. The style of the time was thin lines that were highly arched. Some girls kept a more natural look, but apparently, I was not to be one of those girls. Ela had attacked my forehead with a righteous stinging fury. By the time she finished, I had the same delicate arches she did. “We can fill them in with pencil until they grow back.” she said, cutting off my protests before I could voice them.
After she finished my epilation, we went to the kitchen, where she washed my hair in the sink. Mom had been washing my hair through most of my recovery. She didn’t do half the job Ela did though. Ela scrubbed at my greasy locks with her soap, and rinsed. She came back around for another rinse, but this time poured some lemon juice in it. She said it was to make sure all the soap rinsed out. Whatever the reason, I suddenly craved a nice tall glass of lemonade. When she was satisfied, she wrapped my hair in a towel, and sent me back to the bathroom to powder my body to get rid of all the excess moisture. She had me finish off by coating my entire body in lotion, and rubbing it in deep.
From there, we went back to the kitchen table, and while listening to records, Ela parted my damp hair on the side, and rolled it up in pin curls. Once finished, she tied a large chiffon hair scarf around the curlers to protect them, and then coated my face in a smelly green mask. I thought I’d finally have five minutes to myself, but I was sorely mistaken. Ela asked me, “Who’s your favorite actor?”
I answered, “James Dean.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s so cool, and talented. He should have won the Oscar for East of Eden. In fact…”
“Nope.” she interjected, cutting me off. “He’s dreamy. Let’s try this again. Why is James Dean your favorite actor, Marion?”
“Because he’s dreamy?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“He’s dreamy.”
“Okay, now say it like you mean it, and do it sweetly.”
I summoned my best Ela impersonation, and imagined myself in James Dean’s arms. I plastered a romantic expression on my face, and tried one more time. “Because he’s dreamy. He’s the dreamiest fella in pictures right now. I’d do anything for a date with that hunk.” To be fair he was dreamy. Too bad about the tragedy not far around the corner. If only we’d known.
“Wonderful, Marion!” Ela said, praising my efforts. She was clapping her hands together with glee. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure!” I should have seen the trap coming.
“No, that would be lovely. Would you like something to drink, Marion?”
“Why yes, Ela. That would be lovely.” This went on for about an hour, and then I was allowed to wash my face. The mask had hardened, but with a little water, it came off without a trace, and my skin was as soft as a newborn baby’s. I watched T.V. for an hour while Ela took her time in the bathroom. She joined me in the living room, with her hair tucked under a shower cap, and her face covered in the same mud mask I wore earlier. We finished an episode of The Adventures of Robin Hood, and then she returned to the bathroom, to wash off her mask. It was time to get dressed.
I stood in Ela’s room, in front of her floor mirror, while she had me try on nearly every dress in her closet. She was going on and on about the pros and cons of every outfit. I know she did this kind of thing for herself all the time. Her room had always been a mess, ever since we were kids. The floor was filled with dolls, and jacks when we were little. The only difference between Ela then, and now, is that she’s moved on from tea parties, to makeup. Otherwise, she was still the same feisty steamroller, who stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. She was a perfectionist from the day she was born.
“What do you think of this outfit?” she asked.
“I don’t care, really.” I replied. Truthfully I liked the dress. It was a forest green, plaid number, nipped at the waist, with the fit and flare silhouette that had been popular since Chritian Dior debuted the New Look. I couldn’t let her know that though. My fragile masculinity was at stake. I thought that maybe if I ignored the cracks, the problem would resolve itself. “Whatever you think is best.”
She said, “Of course.” but her expression told a different story. Ela definitely didn’t believe me. I don’t think she wanted to embarrass me though, so she kept her mouth shut. She just said, “I figured I’d give you a choice. You’re the one that’s going to wear it after all.” She unzipped the dress, and after I slipped out of it, she hung it up on her closet door. “We know what you’re wearing now, so I’ll be able to get the rest of your outfit together. Are you ready to nip that waist?”
“Wait, what?” I had no clue what she was talking about.
I’d never had an occasion to learn about women’s underthings. I have a memory from when I was very young; the kind that sticks with you until you’re old and withered. My father had recently returned from his tour in Japan. One day, my mother was setting her hair while I sat there watching her, enthralled by the ritual. Playfully, she asked if I wanted to try. I silently nodded my head yes, so she took one roller, and wound up my short bangs and pinned it into place. I looked in the mirror, and giggled at my reflection. My mom picked up a lipstick off the vanity, and added a little color to my smile. We looked at each other in the mirror. “You really do favor my side of the family.” I didn’t really understand gender expression at the time. All I knew was that this one time, I was allowed to do an adult thing. I rushed to the living room to show my father.
When he saw my appearance, the man was so livid he crushed his beer can in his hands, spilling the liquid all over the rug. He grabbed me by the back of the neck, and dragged me into the bathroom, and with a bar of soap in hand, he scrubbed my lips raw, screaming, “Boys don’t do that!” at me. I swallowed so much soap that I was sick for a few days. When he finished, he grabbed the curler, and ripped it from my head, taking a small patch of hair with it. Done with me, he stormed into my parent’s bedroom, and slammed the door behind him. I sat on the floor, crying for what felt like hours, while I heard shouting, and my mother’s screams through the bedroom door. After that, we never spoke of it again. I never watched my mother get ready again. I never showed any interest in anything remotely considered feminine in front of my father again. None of that stopped him from regularly calling me a sissy.
This was the day I got another look behind the curtain, and what I found was rough. Ela wrapped a waist cincher around my already narrow waist and after looping all the little hooks through all the corresponding hoops, she pulled the laces tight. For a minute, I thought she was trying to cut me in half. Once she had the laces tied off, she slipped a white, satin bullet bra around my chest, and had me slide my arms through the straps. The extra fat pushed up by the waist cincher, tried to fill the undergarment, but still came up short. Ela stuffed the cups with some stockings from her dresser. In the mirror, I could see that I now had a proper hourglass figure.
Ela said, “You can admire yourself later, Marion, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and less and less time, the more we procrastinate.” I threw on the white, linen full slip that she’d set out of her bed, and followed her to her vanity, where she had me take a seat. “Are you ready for your makeup lesson?”
“Can’t you just do it?” I asked. I didn’t think the feminine education was necessary. “It’s just for tonight, right? It’ll probably be faster if you just do it.”
“I’m sure it would, but you need to learn.” She wrapped a towel around my shoulders, and used a hair clip to fasten it behind my neck. “We’re going to be out for several hours. Things happen. You eat. You smoke. You neck with some cute boy. Things happen, Marion. You’ll have to repair it eventually, and I seriously doubt you’ll want to find yourself in the ladies room, looking like it’s your first time there.
“I’m not going to be necking with anybody, Ela, let alone a cute boy. I do see your point though. I guess I’m ready to learn, teach.”
“Thank you. We’re going to keep it simple. You’re more of a Grace Kelly than a Jayne Mansfield anyway. First things first. Pick up that little box of powder foundation. There’s a powder puff inside. Use that, and coat your entire face and neck.” I did as instructed. The process was simple enough, but I did learn that if you open your peepers at the wrong time, it can be quite painful. After I wiped away the tears from the burning eyes, we waited a moment for everything to calm down, and then returned to the task at hand. “Now, use that brown pencil, and start filling in your eyebrows.”
Deadpan, I asked, “You spent all that time ripping out my eyebrows, and you want me to draw them back in?”
“Yes, dummy. This time they’re going to have some shape. When you draw them in, use small strokes, always in the direction the hair grows.” I followed her instructions, this time without any painful incident. “Excellent, Marion! Perfect arches! Now, use that same pencil, and trace the line of your upper eyelid.” This was harder than I expected. Any time I got anywhere close to my eye with the pencil, the lid would start reflexively blinking at rapid speeds. I dropped the pencil in frustration, and shrugged at Ela. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. She picked the pencil back up, and handed it to me. “Almost every girl has to deal with this when she gets started. I want you to hold that pencil as close as you can to your eye, and don’t move it. Just wait until you become acclimated and then try.” It worked. A few short minutes later, I had a fine line drawn at the base of both sets of eyelashes. She had me repeat the same exercise with the eyelash curler. Those things look scary, but once I’d done it, I wasn’t sure what had spooked me in the first place. It was incredibly easy. Much easier than the eyeliner, that’s for sure.
Mascara came next. I learned that the style was for girls our age to only wear top lash mascara, so that made it much easier for me. Through trial and error, I found a method that worked for me. I simply held the brush still, and then blinked my lashes through the bristles. The rest was downhill from there. A little bit of blush was brushed onto the apples of my cheeks, and blended back towards my ears. A final dusting of powder, and a neutral, pink lipstick finished off the look. It wasn’t perfect, but I’d certainly done a better job than a lot of girls in my grade would have. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.” I boasted.
“Yeah, you did great. Now, use that cold cream, go to the bathroom, and wash it all off.” Ela didn’t look the slightest bit impressed.
“You’re joking, right?” I cried, throwing my hands in the air. I just spent an hour doing all this, and you want me to take it off. Why?”
“Because you spent an hour doing it sweetheart. That would have taken me ten minutes. Take it off, and do it again, but this time try not to ask for help. I’ll be right beside you doing my own makeup if you have any questions, but you should try to do it on your own first.” I did as instructed, and greatly improved my time and the quality on the second go. It still took me about ten minutes longer than Ela, but she deemed it acceptable, so we moved on. She painted my nails to match my lips, but this time, did her own as well. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want smudged nail polish on a first date, either.
Ela dug into her closet, and came back with gauzy, pink crinoline. I stepped into it through the waistband, and started to fit it around my waist, only to be told that it wasn’t correct, so I took it off, and tried again. This time, I pulled it over my head, like a sweater, and slipped it down to my waist, over the skirt of my slip. The dress followed, and Ela helped me zip it up in the back. She wrapped a black, cinch belt around my waist, and fastened the golden buckle at the front, just beneath my false bosom. She dropped a pair of black ballet flats at my feet, and then much to my surprise, also dropped her robe.
We saw each other naked all the time when we were children, but things were different now. Two things to be specific. I threw my hand over my eyes, and asked, “Did you want me to leave the room?”
“Why?” she nonchalantly responded. “It’s just us girls here.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
“Get used to it. You’re a girl tonight, Marion. It’s time to start getting into character.” I still averted my gaze until I heard the zip of her dress. Afterwards, she sat me down at the vanity, and started removing the hair scarf, and the dozens of bobby pins from my, now dry, hair. She pulled it tight in the back, the same as the day before, and tied it off with an elastic, but this time, she left the front curling down over my forehead. Ela started fishing through a drawer, and pulled out a pair of shears.
“What are you doing with those?” I asked, afraid of the response.
“I’m going to cut your bangs. It’s the style with ponytails like those now.”
“Okay…but what am I supposed to do when this is all over?”
“You’ve got to get a haircut anyway. Before you go to the barber shop, I’ll chop off a bunch more, and you can blame the look on your friend talking you into it.” I couldn’t argue with her logic, but I still felt uneasy, while she sat there, snipping away. She finished, and then clipped the hairpiece over my own little nub, leaving it to curl smoothly down my back. She tied off the base with a black, felt ribbon, and started working on her own style. She pinned her blonde hair back on both sides, and let her page boy fall neatly behind her, curling under, while the front of her hair was swept to the side.
She stood, and we both headed to the floor mirror, to assess the full look. Ela was beautiful as always. She wore tasteful age appropriate makeup, similar to mine. Her dress was quite classy, made of a pink linen. It fit tightly, but not too tight comprised of a knee-length, straight skirt, a wide, white, scalloped, bertha collar with matching cuffs on the short sleeves, and three buttons up the center of the bodice, with a large decorative flat bow right in the opening of the collar. She stepped into a pair of white, round-toed, low heeled dress shoes, and clipped a pair of pearl button earrings onto her lobes. She looked stunning.
I was surprised to find that I was equally as attractive. The makeup did a lot to feminize my face, and combined with everything else, I made quite the pretty picture. The black stripes in the plaid were the same as the black flats, belt, and hairbow I wore, It had cap sleeves and a little, white, peter pan collar. Sure, it was quite girlish, but I could take it off whenever I wanted to. The hair on the other hand, was a different story. The ponytail looked as clean and smooth as it had the previous day, but this time, in the front, there were short bangs, curled neatly, resting half an inch above my eyebrows. She clipped a white, bead bracelet around my wrist, and proclaimed my outfit complete.
We had about an hour left till the boys were supposed to arrive, so rather than standing around panicking, Ela had me practice smoothing my skirt and crinoline underneath when I sat. She thought my walk was too wide legged, so she drilled me in that next. Walking with my knees together was hard, but I needed to build those muscles back up anyway, so it was good exercise as far as I was concerned. It was difficult holding myself upright, and walking that way, and I found myself swinging my hips side to side, and my rear behind me. I remember hoping my date wouldn’t think I was fast because of it. Ela lectured about etiquette, and the proper behavior expected of a lady out on the town. Chiefly, I was going to have to fight the urge to stand when a woman arrived, or left. After a short quiz, Ela was satisfied I could handle myself, and any unwanted advances. I even knew how to get into, and out of a car, should we find ourselves in need of a taxi. I collected a black purse that Ela prepared for me, and spent the remainder of the time, sitting on the sofa, clutching the straps tightly while my anxiety grew.
A short while later, I was snapped out of my trance by a firm knock at our door. Ela placed her hand on my shoulder to steady me. She asked, “Are you ready?” I nodded my head. We took a deep breath together, and she swung open the door. On the other side, there were two, gangly boys in slightly baggy suits. They put about as much effort into their appearance as any boy would at the time, but there was still a clumsiness about them, like teenagers usually have; ready to be an adult, but not quite there. “You girls look beautiful this evening.” Archie said, shoving a handful of daffodils towards Ela.
Gracefully, Ela said, “Why, thank you Archie.” She gave them a dainty sniff, and smiled pleasantly. The red haired boy practically melted when she smiled at him. His buddy jabbed an elbow into his side, reminding him there were two other people in the room.
“Oh, right!” Archie turned his attention to me, for what was probably the first time. “Marion, this is Andy Barclay. Andy, this is Marion uhh...”
Andy offered me an equally disheveled bouquet. “These are for you.” he said, a giant smile plastered across his face. “My friend has insulted you, by not taking the time to learn your last name, and for that I apologize.” Could he have been any more of a cornball? He thought he was slick, and I’d melt in his arms then and there, I’m sure. In reality, he was about as suave as Jerry Lewis. Don’t get me wrong, he was very attractive, but he didn’t yet have the experience to back it up, and it was obvious. I was just happy he didn’t shout, “Boy!” and then punch me right in the face.
I politely took the flowers from him, and shyly whispered, “Thank you.” Everyone was silent, expecting me to say anything else, but I was frozen in place.
Ela came to my rescue. She took the flowers, and said, “Let’s get these into some water, Marion, and then we can go. Her name is Marion Ryan by the way, Andy. You’ll have to forgive her. It’s her first date, and she’s a little nervous.”
In total disbelief, Andy replied, “Your first date? I don’t believe it…a girl as pretty as you. There’s just no way.”
I realized I should probably say anything, so I went with a version of the truth. “Yeah, uh, I was very sick for a little while, so I’ve been stuck in bed for about a year. Tonight’s my first night out actually.”
He took my hand and kissed it gently. “Then I shall endeavor to make it the best possible.” I would’ve thought I’d throw up right then and there, but I actually found it kind of cute, much the same way a child trying to impress you by doing a cartwheel is cute. Whatever the case, it was certainly disarming. I instantly relaxed.
Ela returned from the kitchen, and grabbed her purse. We left the apartment, and made our way to the train station, so we could catch the Brighton Beach Line into Manhattan, and start our Journey to the East Village. We made it to the platform in the knick of time. The train arrived just as we reached the bottom of the stairs, and we only had to wait a moment, just for the doors to open. When I felt Andy place his hand on the small of my back to guide me into the car, my first instinct was to turn around and give him a piece of my mind. Fortunately, I remembered my appearance, and realized he was just being gentlemanly. We found four seats facing each other, and sat in an uncomfortable silence for the entire journey.
Two transfers later, and we’d arrived at our destination. At the time, the East Village was a hotbed for the growing counterculture of New York City. I’d never seen so many turtlenecks and goatees in my life. I couldn’t believe it. Adult women were out on the town at night, unescorted by a man. “What’s that smell?” I asked, as we walked past a coffee shop where several college students were smoking outside.
Andy, and Archie found this question very amusing. “That’s Yankee Doodle.” they said, giggling like children. Several years later, I found out what that meant, when the hippies popularized marijuana, but at the time I was woefully ignorant. A few blocks down the road, we stopped in a cute malt shop for dinner, and dessert.
We took our seats at the bar, where the mirror along the back wall fortunately kept me aware of my presentation, and the expected behavior that went along with it. Less fortunate though were the boys sitting between us. There wasn’t a good way for me to use Ela as a security blanket so I was on my own with my date. An older gentleman dressed entirely in white, wearing a paper cap took our orders. Remembering my crash course, I let my date order for me. We both had cheeseburgers and fries, which, though delicious, I couldn’t finish due to the restricting cinch wrapped around my midsection.
Archie and Ela were having no problems finding things to talk about. He’d drone on and on about working for his parents, and she’d listen intently, never breaking eye contact. She’d ask the right questions, and giggle at the right time. It might have been her first date in a year, but she was definitely an expert. Archie was putty in her hands. My date, on the other hand, wasn’t going quite as well. Andy, unlike most boys at the time, asked me what I was interested in. It was admirable, sure, but I didn’t know how to answer any of his questions. I was supposed to be an average teenage girl. I didn’t think I could say I liked science fiction, and baseball, so I responded with dispassionate one word answers like, makeup, and sewing. Bless him though, because he was undeterred. He’d ask a follow-up question and I would parrot something I’d heard Ela say before. In hindsight, I think Andy knew I wasn’t being myself. That’s probably why he kept grilling me.
“What do you want to do when you finish school?” he asked, much to my surprise.
I thought hard about what the typical girlish response would be. After a moment of hesitation, I said, “A mother of course. Secretarial school possibly, as a stepping stone, but ultimately, I want to raise a family.”
“That’s bull, Marion.” A french fry almost fell out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry…”
He seemed to realize his bluntness. Blushing, he elaborated. “Forgive me. I can be curt sometimes. I just mean, you don’t strike me as the type. There’s obviously more going on in your noggin than making babies. You can tell me the truth. What do you really want to do?”
It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that question. As far back as I can remember, it was always assumed that I’d be working for Mr Albertson, just like my father and brother. That probably wasn’t an option any more, regardless, but I never really wanted that life in the first place. I knew the honest answer, so I decided to just go for it. “I want to be a librarian. I know it’s not particularly glamorous but I love books. If I could spend the rest of my life working with them in some capacity, That would be a life well spent.”
“There must be something in books, things we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.” You could have knocked me over with a feather.
“Are you quoting Fahrenheit 451? I just read that for the thousandth time last month. You’re a Bradbury fan, I take it?” I had been playing a role up to this point, but this is where we crossed a threshold. This boy genuinely had my interest.
“I came for the science fiction, but I stayed for the social commentary. Have you read Player Piano yet, by chance?”
“I haven’t had the occasion. Do you recommend it?”
“I do. Personally, I’m for the advancement of technology. The story isn’t necessarily against it either, but it brings up several good points about not losing respect for the human element of our society as it progresses.” Good Lord, he actually had a brain. I guess I’d been expecting someone as sharp as a bowling ball, given that he was Archie’s best friend. It was certainly a lesson in prejudice. I was so enraptured by our conversation that I didn’t notice he ordered one milkshake when the counter worker came to collect our plates. I thought about saying something when the dessert arrived containing two straws, but decided against it. This boy was awkward, but quite fascinating, and surprisingly eloquent. In spite of myself, I could have listened to Andy wax poetic for days. Plus, I was too old to be afraid of cooties, so I kept my mouth shut, and took a sip of the milkshake, never breaking eye contact.
After we finished our meal, the boys paid the tab, and we headed to a little coffee shop down the steps off the sidewalk. It was certainly dark, and musty. There was a cloud of cigarette smoke permeating the place, as was common at the time, and the wallpaper was peeling, but I found it charming. We found seats towards the stage, where I had my first encounter with an actual chair. It shouldn’t have been so difficult, but Andy and I kept reaching for it at the same time, then apologizing in sync. A subtle kick to the shin from Ela helped me realize I just needed to stand there, and let him be a gentleman. It also hurt, so I took my seat while shooting her a dirty look. The boys saw their friends standing in the corner with their instrument cases, so they went to say hello, leaving Ela and I to speak freely for a moment.
With a smirk, Ela said, “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“We finally found something to talk about.” I shot back, furrowing my brow. “I thought we were both going to die from the sheer awkwardness of it all, but he’s actually very intelligent. I almost feel bad about tricking him like this.”
“You’re not tricking him. I snuck a listen to your conversation, and you were just being yourself. Maybe with a different coat of paint yes, but from what I heard, all those thoughts and opinions were yours.”
“It is surprising how long I’ve been able to keep up this girly voice.”
“What girly voice would that be?” She looked at me incredulously. “That’s your voice. You’re using a select few different phrases from normal, but that’s it really. You’ve never been one to MOY-DUR the English language with that thick Brooklyn accent your brother has. Whatever the case, I’m just glad you’re having a good time. I really appreciate you doing this for me. A couple more hours, and you’re free”
Just then, the boys returned. “They’re going on a little later than they told us.” Archie said, while trying to flag down the waitress.
Andy explained, “Apparently, the show’s running a little long. It shouldn’t be too much longer, though.” The waitress made her way to our table, where the boys ordered beers for themselves. Ela, and I ordered coffee. We’d spend the remainder of the night watching various acts go on stage, with polite conversation between. I slogged through comedian after poet after folk music act, bored out of my mind, while Archie and Andy intermittently babbled about model airplanes. Ela was an old pro when it came to entertaining the interest of the men. I was not. I might have started pert and attentive, but the night had already gone on longer than I had hoped, and my boredom was obvious to anyone with two eyes and a brain. This might not have included Archie, but Andy was acutely aware, and desperate to save the date. “You know, Archie, the girls have listened to us go on about planes enough. Perhaps we should change the subject.”
Archie didn’t miss a beat. He seemed to just be excited to have someone to talk to about anything. “What about tomorrow? We’re going to the Dodgers game. That’s interesting right?”
Andy started, “I’m not sure the ladies would…” but I quickly cut him off.
“You’re going to the Dodgers game tomorrow night. That’s amazing! I haven’t been to a game since forever!”
Archie replied, “Yeah, Mr Moneybags here’s dad gets the lower deck box seats behind home plate on Saturdays sometimes. It’s pretty swell.”
“I’m so jealous!” I nearly shouted, attracting attention from a few nearby tables.
“You know, you can come if you want to.” Andy said, putting his hand on mine.
“I’d love to!” I outright shouted this time.
Ela asked, “Didn’t you have something going on tomorrow, Marion?”
“Nothing, why?” I responded, only to feel a swift kick to my shin beneath the table. It was only then that it occurred to me exactly what I’d agreed to.
“I just thought I remembered you telling me you had to take care of something important.”
I froze for a moment, and thought hard about my next few decisions. Any red blooded American boy should have wanted out of this getup as quickly as possible, but with the promise of watching the game from behind home plate at Ebbets Field, another day in skirts didn’t sound so bad. “Not that I can recall, Ela. Baseball tomorrow does sound swell, Archie. I’d love to come, if it’s okay with Andy of course.”
The glee was plastered on Andy's face, but he tried to play it cool. “You’re not the type of girl I’d peg for a baseball fan.”
“Everyone in my family is. My brother actually plays in the minors down south. I listened to or watched every single Dodgers game when I was stuck in bed. I wouldn’t miss one for the world.”
“Alright then! My dad, my brother Jimmy, and I play in our church league at the park near our place in Flatbush on Saturday mornings. Jimmy brings his girlfriend, and I usually bring Archie. We’re spending the day together and finishing the afternoon at the game. You could meet us there tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“Thanks Andy!” I squealed, leaning over the table and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“How about you, Ela?” Archie asked, probably hoping for an equal level of enthusiasm.
She replied, “Sure, Archie. That would be neat.” Ela didn’t really care about baseball, but she did care about me, and she definitely wanted to keep an eye on me. It probably didn’t hurt that she wanted a second date with Archie also. I caught a look in her eye that said, “What are you doing?” but I chose to ignore it. Mercifully, the band we’d made this journey to see in the first place finally took to the stage. They weren’t terrible, but in my opinion, if you’ve seen one coffee shop folk trio, you’ve seen them all, and I had already seen three perform that night. Still, I clapped politely. When they exited the stage, I noticed the time on the clock hanging on the wall.
“We really need to get going, Ela.” I said, trying to play it cool, but freaking out on the inside. It was twenty minutes till our curfew, and we were still hours from our beds.
Ela, realizing the same thing, stood from her chair suddenly, causing the boys to shoot up after her. “Archie, we need to get going. My mother might very well kill us, and then neither of us will make it to the game tomorrow, let alone another date.” The boys tossed a few bills on the table, and after collecting our purses, we rushed out and hurried to the subway station.
On the ride back, Ela rested her head on Archie’s shoulder, while clutching his arm. Andy placed his hand on mine, and strangely, I let him. It wasn’t hurting anything, and it obviously made him happy. Two transfers later, and we were back in Brooklyn. We arrived at our building, where the boys tried to see us to the door, but Ela and I convinced them otherwise, more for their safety than for ours. I prayed with every step up the stairs. If Magda was waiting for us in the living room for some reason, then we’d have a lot more to explain than why we were late. Fortunately, nobody was there. We removed our shoes, and tiptoed to our rooms. Just as I passed our parent’s room, I saw the light come on under her door. We both hurried to our beds, where I threw the shoes under, and jumped in, pulling the covers up over my head. I heard the door open behind me, and then close. After I heard the same from Ela’s room, and then, much to my relief, I heard Magda’s door close. I must have been holding my breath the entire time, because when the light switched back off, I exhaled with relief. It felt like we’d reached a finish line of some kind, but in reality, my adventure was just getting started.
High School Sweetheart
Chapter 3
By Lauren Bliss
It was prom night, and I was ecstatic. I was dressed in a pink, strapless, diaphanous gown that fell to mid thigh. The bodice clung to my developing curves, but the neckline was high enough to remain tasteful. My opera length gloves fit snugly around my arms. I wore my mother’s pearls, and carried a small drawstring purse, while I paced nervously around our living room. Ela was there, dressed similarly. We stood for photos while our mothers beamed proudly. I felt beautiful, but was extremely nervous for some reason. Was I going to get stood up? Imagine going through all this trouble, only to have your date never arrive.
I checked my hair in the mirror for the hundredth time, and still, not a single strand was out of place. My lipstick was perfect. I couldn’t find a single thing wrong, but I couldn’t shake the pervasive uneasiness that penetrated my very being. I heard rapping at the door. For a moment my tension eased. Confidently, I strode to the entryway, and turned the knob to welcome our companions for the evening. Instead, I saw my father, blood pouring down his face, with an empty expression. I awoke in a cold sweat.
Ela was sitting at the foot of my bed, with her hand on my leg. She already had her hair up in rollers, still wearing one of her nightgowns, but had foregone the dressing gown this particular morning. “Time to get up, sleepyhead. It’s already seven.”
“I thought their game started at nine.” I bemoaned, burying my face under my pillows.
“That is true, but you went to bed last night without taking off your makeup, or setting your hair. We’ve got a lot of work to do. On top of all that Mom’s only working a half day today, so unless you want to have a conversation with her about your outfit, I suggest you get up. Don’t forget, Missy, this was all your idea.” Ela pulled the covers off of me, revealing my date outfit from the night before. I don’t know how I ever managed to sleep in that crinoline. It was so stiff and scratchy.
Ela unzipped my dress, and handed me the same dressing gown I’d worn the day before. After she left the room, I stripped down to my underwear, and threw on the gown. Following her instructions, I went to the bathroom, and used her cold cream to remove the smudged mess that was the corpse of the previous night’s makeup. Through foggy eyes, I examined my reflection in the mirror while I brushed my teeth. My hair was a wreck. The ponytail hairpiece was left on my bed. Even without it, my hair still held that girlish wave, and did nothing to detract from my feminine appearance. Ela left a set of clean undergarments in the bathroom for me, and when I left, I was wearing a new mint green bra and panty set, and a matching camisole.
In Ela's room she’d already tossed several outfits on the bed. By then, she was already dressed in a long-sleeved black and white, checkered, button-down blouse, and a gray, knee-length pencil skirt. Still barefoot, she held several pieces up to my body, weighing the virtues, and detriments of each combination. She settled on a short-sleeved, white button-down, with a little pointed collar, and a sky blue circle skirt. I dressed in a half slip, and crinoline, then the outfit she’d decided on, and once again, I sat at her vanity table. She instructed me to just use a light dusting of powder, a soft eyeshadow with natural eyeliner, mascara, and soft, neutral, pink lips. She did the same for herself, and after brushing out her set into a stylish pageboy, she worked her magic on me, and once again, I wore a perky ponytail, curling smoothly into a little spiral at the tip. After donning a pair of bobby socks, and lacing up a black and white pair of saddle shoes, I was ready for a day out and about.
Ela teased, “Is this style to your liking, mademoiselle?”
I retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word, “My bangs aren’t as fluffy as yesterday, but it’ll do.”
“Don’t get huffy with me. I’m not the one who wanted to get up and make myself pretty for my steady’s baseball game.”
“I don’t care about my steady’s baseball game. I care about seeing our Brooklyn Dodgers cream the Cincinnati Redlegs at Ebbets Field tonight. This getup, and Andy’s game are a means to an end. Also, shut up! He’s not my steady!”
Ela pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot impatiently. “I’m disappointed with you, Marion. Andy seems like a nice boy. It doesn’t seem right, you taking advantage of him like this. I have half a mind to stay home, and let you go out there on your own.”
“Can you still see me from all the way up there on your high horse? You’re one to talk, Ela. This whole thing was your idea. And don’t act like you aren’t champing at the bit to see Archie again. I don’t know what you see in that idiot.”
“First of all, that idiot, as you called him, is incredibly kind. I’ve never heard him say a cross word about anybody. Second, I wanted you to go on one date, and then let the boy down gently. Girls do that kind of thing for each other all the time. I wasn’t asking a lot.”
“Except I’m not a girl, Ela!” I clenched my fist tightly. My face flushed red. I screamed, “You always treat me like one of your girlfriends, when I’m not! I’m a boy! You play with my hair, and put makeup on me, and gossip about boys, and you act like it’s the most normal thing in the world! Well, it’s not! Now, the one time I decide to go along with it, you act like I’m the one being crazy!”
With tears streaming down her face, Ela shouted back, “Why wouldn’t I treat you like a girl, when Archie and every other boy I know are twice the man you are!? If you want to go to that stupid game, you’re going to have to do it without me! Get out of my room…now, Marion!” She pointed to the door. I’m surprised steam didn’t come out of her ears. My insides were shredded, cut to pieces by her words. I grabbed the purse off her dresser, and walked out into the living room. She slammed the door behind me. I sat on the couch in silence, crossing my legs at the knee. At first, I didn't even notice the girlish manner of my posture. Ela’s words stung; probably more than she intended. Was I really only half a man? I certainly didn’t look like one, and it was entirely my choice this time. I thought about my father again. Everytime I did, the emotional pain was unbearable. Unable to let myself contemplate the deeper meaning of my behavior, I steadied my resolve, and left the couch. I made it all the way to the door, and even got my fingertips on the doorknob before I froze in a panic, unable to go any further. I just couldn’t get the courage together, so I went back to Ela’s bedroom door, and knocked softly.
“Ela, I can’t do this without you. I really need you right now.” No answer. I tapped a few times with the tips of my fingernails, and tried again. “Ela, please. I’m sorry. Come out, and we can talk about it.” Still nothing. Not a peep. I realized then, that I’d have to pull out my big gun. “Ela, I’m using my no questions asked. I need you to go with me.” I heard her rustling around in there, and after a few minutes, the door opened. Her makeup was fixed, and she had her purse slung over her shoulder.
“You’re lucky I pinky promised. I’m going with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m talking to you.” I wanted to apologize over and over again, but her withering glare said, “Proceed with caution.” Since we were running low on time, I kept my mouth shut. Ela wrote a short note for her Mom, and we made it out the door with fifteen minutes to spare.
We hopped the trolley across town. It was standing room only, as it often was on the weekends. I had resigned myself to hanging onto the loop, and hoping for the best, when two young men rose from their seats, and offered them to us. I stood there like a confused imbecile, wondering what they were doing, when Ela thanked them politely, and sat, pulling me down next to her. A few people were staring at this point, so I smiled politely, and mouthed thank you. I remember feeling as though I was under the microscope of every passerby, but in reality, everyone that looked was probably thinking either lewd, or romantic thoughts.
We arrived at our stop, and the seas parted when Ela, and I stood up. The last time I’d taken a trolley, I had to fight my way off, and even then, wound up riding for an extra stop. A person could get used to such a thing, and that thought scared me. We had to walk a few extra blocks to get to the park. I’d come to one of my brother’s games on this side of town once. In our old neighborhood they played in what basically amounted to a sandlot between a few buildings. Here, there was actual grass on the field. The lines were freshly marked, and there were actual bleachers for people to sit on while they watched. Some people think the sign of a prosperous neighborhood is a good school, or fancy restaurants, or even how many cars are parked on the road. To me, the answer lies in how nice your ballfield is.
“I’m famished.” Ela said curtly, nodding towards a hotdog cart on the corner. “I’m still not talking to you, but you’re buying.” I opened my purse to see she’d stuffed the money her mom had left us in it, as well as some makeup to repair my face for when the occasion arose. We still had plenty of time to kill, so we ordered our food, and walked around the park. I finished the hotdog in less than ladylike time, so while I was waiting on Ela, I took off my shoes and socks, and walked around the grass barefoot. Ever since I was a child, I loved the feeling of running barefoot through a field. It was something I rarely had the opportunity to experience. Anytime I could, I took full advantage.
“Ela!” Archie’s voice came ringing out across the park. In the distance, we saw him approaching with two feminine silhouettes. It was when they got close enough to see their faces that I truly started to panic. On his right was an older woman that I was not yet familiar with, but on his left was his sister, Eileen Connolly.
In high school, I was invisible to Archie. He never noticed me, and he never had a reason to, but Eileen was a different story. On the social ladder, she was several rungs above me, so we had never spoken, but we were in the same homeroom all the way through middle school. I didn’t know her very well, but one thing I did know was that girl had a mouth on her. Archie had dropped out of high school to work at his family's new butcher shop but Eileen was a different story. Not only did we go to the same school before the accident, but we’d be going to the same new school next week. If she knew who I was, it was going to be a real problem.
If Ela was Betty, then Eileen was Veronica. She was as sexy as a girl was allowed to be back then. We shared the same flaming red hair, though the similarities ended there. Her curly, chin length bob featured a deep side part with the front lifting high off her scalp, and swooping back down to the side. Unless school was in session, she was wearing deep red lipstick, and a pencil skirt two fingers short of being modest. “Ela!” she squealed, embracing her as girls do when greeting each other. “That’s twice in one week I’ve seen you outside of school. This must be some kind of record. When I heard you were going on a date with my brother, I was ecstatic. He’s had a crush on you forever.”
Archie turned six different shades of red. “Shut up Sis, she doesn’t need to hear all that.”
Eileen turned her attention to me, and offered her hand politely. “Is this what you did with my hairpiece?”
I shook her hand awkwardly, and stuttered “Hello. I’m umm…Marion. Nice to meet you. Thanks for umm…letting Ela borrow the ponytail. I cut my hair off umm a while ago, and I wanted to see what it looked like before I grew it…back out that is.”
“Right.” she said, raising an eyebrow to my clumsy response. “You must be the Marion Andy’s been going on about all morning. It’s lovely to uhh…meet you.” Her expression was inscrutable.
“Well, I think your hair looks lovely, dear.” the older woman said, reminding me of her presence. “I’m sure it looks lovely short as well. I’d imagine you look just as lovely with your hair in curlers.” She offered her hand, and said, “I’m Edith Barclay; Andy’s Mother. Nice to meet you.”
I shook her hand in return, nearly frozen. I managed to squeak out, “Nice to meet you Mrs. Barclay. Sorry, I feel a bit out of place standing here with no shoes on. If you’ll excuse me.”
I hurried to find a seat, and slid my socks on. Mrs. Barclay giggled to herself, and said, “No need for embarrassment dear. Be young and carefree while you can. She was obviously a woman of privilege, in a nice floral print dress that perfectly matched her jacket that perfectly matched her pillbox hat, that perfectly matched her gloves. Some people say that a matchy matchy outfit is one of the worst fashion sins a person can commit. This woman was living proof that it could be done well.
“What brings you to the park, Eileen?” Ela asked. She was just as surprised to see her, as I was.
Eileen replied, “Do you remember that boy I told you I was going steady with. That’s Jimmy…Andy’s brother. We met through Andy actually. He took me to prom last year, remember.”
“I remember Andy saying something about a brother last night. I had no idea, they were one in the same. They must be about the same age.
“Only separated by an hour.” Mrs. Barclay interjected. “Speaking of my beautiful babies, they should be starting soon. Shall we?” I had just managed to finish tying my laces, so I hurried along behind everyone else walking to the bleachers.
The stands were about as crowded as you would expect a Saturday afternoon baseball game to be, so we had no trouble finding an area where we could all sit together. Ela was still pretty irked, so I found myself sandwiched between Mrs. Barclay, and Eileen. I could see Andy tossing a ball back and forth with another boy, who I assumed was his brother. They had a similar facial structure, though the other boy was a few inches taller, and his hair cut in the same close cropped style that nearly every boy our age had, but it was a dirty blonde, slightly lighter than Andy’s brunette locks. I thought they looked spiffy in their baseball knickers, garments that always seemed out of place when I tried to wear them. From out of nowhere, far more raucous than I could have ever imagined her being, Mrs. Barclay yelled, “Let’s go Sharks!”
The designated time arrived, and the game was underway. At the top of the first inning the Sharks were defending. I could infer from the exuberant cheers of Mrs. Barclay, the pitcher was her husband. He certainly had the same dapper countenance as his children, but more wisened. He threw the first pitch, a fastball, and the umpire cried, “Strike!” Pitch number two, and again, “Strike!” There were only a couple dozen people watching this game, but when he threw the third strike, you’d have thought they had just won the world series. I’ll say this about Brooklyn. It doesn’t matter how old you are, how much money you have, or where your family came from. We’re going to tell you how we feel.
The top of the first was finished, and Mr Barclay had performed well. He struck out another poor kid, and their shortstop caught a line drive for the third out. It was time for the Sharks to swing for the fences, and the crowd was even more amped up. It was hard not to get swept up into the commotion. Andy was at bat first. He approached the plate, and tapped the dust off his cleats. He readied his bat. The first pitch was thrown. There was no swing, since the pitch was wide right, but the umpire shouted, “Strike!” getting my blood heated.
“That’s bull, Ump! You couldn’t call a cab!” Swept up in the excitement, I’d forgotten to act as the demure young thing I appeared to be. I realized my error, and turned to Mrs. Barclay, expecting at best a dirty judgmental look, but was shocked to instead see her standing next to me, echoing my sentiments.
“How’d you get a square head in that round mask?” she shouted, playfully nudging my shoulder. The next pitch beamed Andy straight in the arm, and you could have probably heard the boos six blocks down the road. Andy kept his composure, but I could see the fury in his expression. I imagine if he could have gotten away with it, he would have charged the mound, and decked that pitcher. Two batters later, and the other team had managed to walk one. Jimmy stepped up to bat, eliciting cheers from the ladies on both sides of me. It was the most animated I think I’d ever seen Eileen. Again, the pitch was wide right, again the umpire called “Strike”, and again we all voiced our displeasure. The second pitch came, and it was obviously wide, but this time Jimmy swung the bat. Not only that, he swung for the fences. One homerun later, and the Sharks were up by three. Mrs. Barclay, Eileen, and I were jumping up and down with glee. Meanwhile, Archie, and Ela couldn’t be bothered. The two were stuck staring into each other's eyes like lovestruck puppies.
The game continued, and over the next eight innings, the opposing team had managed to scrape together four runs, and the Sharks just couldn’t seem to cross home again. It was the bottom of the ninth, and Andy was at bat; with three balls, two strikes, and two outs on the board. The pitch came, and this one was straight across the plate. Andy swung big, and hit a fly ball right up the middle. It was going, and the small crowd were on the edge of their seats. He started slowly trotting down to first base, never taking his eye off the ball. We all hoped that it was going to make it, but alas, it was short by about ten feet, and landed straight in the center fielder's glove. Everyone in attendance let out a collective sigh of disappointment, but applauded his efforts nonetheless.
We all made our way down to the field, while the two teams shook hands. The only person mad at Andy was Andy. “I really screwed that one up.” He took off his hat, and threw it down on the ground.
I half expected his dad to agree with him, but instead I was pleasantly surprised by his response. “That’s enough of that, son. You did your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. You boys played well today, and I’m proud of you both.” I didn’t know that was even a valid response from a sports dad. I’d only ever seen a man terrorize his children for their failures.
“You played better than I ever could.” I offered, trying to comfort him.
His frown instantly turned upside down, and he said, “My one consolation is that I’m blessed with the presence of such a beautiful maiden.” Even in defeat, he was a cornball.
“Shut up, nerd.” his brother said in jest, pushing him playfully from behind.
“Be nice, Jimmy.” Eileen said, admonishing him. Eileen stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a pleasant peck on the cheek.
“You must be the Marion I've been hearing so much about.” Mr Barclay said, turning his attention to me. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us tonight. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other. Did you have any trouble getting here today?”
I shook his hand politely. “No sir. My brother played a few games over here several years ago. Thank you for having me this evening. I’m very excited.”
“I saw you in the stands cheering for my boy. Always wonderful to meet another real baseball fan. You’ll find no shortage of those in our home. Now, we’ll be needing a shower, and a change of clothes. Can’t wear these knickers all day after all.”
“I didn’t think about that.” Andy said, realizing his error. “You girls aren’t going to want to sit in our living room, and wait around while we get cleaned up.”
“Really, it’s no big deal.” I said, waving off their concerns. “We’ll have Archie to entertain us.”
“They could come to the salon with us, Mrs. Barclay.” Eileen offered, eyeing me up and down. “Marion here was just talking about needing a new hairdo while she grows her hair out. Why not today?”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Barclay exclaimed. I froze solid when I realized just what they were proposing. I tried to come up with a plausible reason not to, but my brain had stopped working.
Ela took pity on me, and for the first time since our blow up, started trying to save me from my decisions. “We can’t do that, Mrs. Barclay.” Whispering, she said, “We can’t really afford it, right now.”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Barclay was having none of it. “It’s my treat, of course. I live in a house full of boys. I never had a daughter to shower with the gifts a mother has to offer. I take every opportunity to share those pleasures with Eileen here when I can. Today I’ll just have three surrogate daughters instead of one.”
“It’s decided then!” Eileen took me by the hand, and the four of us were off, leaving four silent men behind us. I think they all knew better than to argue with Mrs Barclay. At the time, I got the impression that she was the true head of household. I didn’t know exactly what to expect as we walked out of the park. It certainly wasn’t a man in a black uniform, and cap holding open the back door of a shiny new car. I didn’t know a lot about cars back then. To be honest, I still don’t really know anything about cars now, but I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that that Chrysler was the most expensive car I’d ever seen at that point, let alone ridden in.
Eileen, Ela, and I piled in the back seat, with me in the middle, while Mrs. Barclay rode up front with her driver. Once our journey began, Ela leaned over, and whispered into my ear, “When the hairdresser sees your hairpiece, just tell them you were sick. They won’t ask too many questions, if they’re polite. Just let them know you’re growing it out, and they shouldn’t do too much. At the time, I thought Eileen was lost in her thoughts, but I was about to find out that she was listening intently, and forming a plan.
After arriving at the salon, we didn’t have to wait. Even with the two extra customers, the manager happily made room for us. I felt bad for whoever we bumped. Mrs. Barclay, and Ela were taken to one side of the salon, while Eileen and I were taken to the other, and seated right next to each other. A beautician, whose name I cannot remember, introduced herself to us, and asked what services we were interested in, while fastening plastic capes around our necks to protect our clothes. Before I even had the opportunity to speak, Eileen answered for both of us. “For me personally, I just need a trim, and a fresh perm. Why fix what’s not broken? Marion here has been very sick for a while though. She’s on the mend now, but her hair is still very short. She’s been wearing my hairpiece to cover it up, but I’ve been telling her short styles are in right now. All she needs is a new perm, set, and comb-out, and she’s a brand new girl. Isn’t that right, Marion? Is there a reason you don’t want a new do, for free on top of everything else.”
I fumbled to find any response at all that didn’t end up with me going home looking like Lucille Ball, but nothing came to mind. I found myself nodding along, agreeing with whatever Eileen said, but inside, I was screaming for help at the top of my lungs. The beautician, with her bouffant hairdo, removed the hairpiece, and left my hair to fall down framing my face. She took us to the hair washing station, and gave us both a thorough shampoo. With our damp tresses, we found our way back to our chairs. Her expert hands wound up my hair in a classic setting pattern, starting with a row of perm rods and wax paper rolled backwards away from my face going from my forehead all the way back to my neck. From there, she rolled several rows down the sides, and then several more rows down the back, only leaving my bangs loose when all was said and done. Just as quickly, she did the same with Eileen.
The next step in the process was adding the perm solution. It was cold, but that wasn’t the worst part. The odor was so pungent that it burned in the back of my nose. I had a new level of respect for the effort girls had to put into their appearance. It was only the start of my first perm, and I was already ready for the process to be over. After both Eileen and I were thoroughly saturated, we were taken to the dryer station, and left there for about twenty minutes. I tried several times to ask Eileen why she told them all that stuff, but she either couldn’t hear me, or just plain refused to acknowledge that she did.
Back at the hair washing station, a cold neutralizing solution was poured over our perm rods, and left to do its magic. Once that had processed, the solution was rinsed, and we were taken back to the salon chairs, where she expertly snipped away at both mine and Eileen’s styles. Eileen’s hair was simple, since all she did was clean up the ends. For me on the other hand, the beautician took her time, snipping away at my split ends, and then cutting in the clean lines of my style. Once she was satisfied she rolled both of us up in curlers, and it was back to the dryer for another thirty minutes. I was okay for about five minutes, and then the boredom crept in. I’d had enough of that for a lifetime, so I found an issue of Cosmopolitan on a little table between me and the next station. Surprisingly, I was so enthralled by an article on the coming fall fashion trends, that when the beautician came to collect us, I carried the magazine with me, so I could finish.
Eileen’s hair was brushed out first. She had the same style she walked through the door with, but marginally shorter, and much fluffier. For me, there were a lot of brush strokes to smooth the curl together, a lot of teasing to give it height, and a lot of hairspray to hold everything in place. I was the proud owner of a short bouffant style. It swept back away from my face, floating two inches above my scalp, while the bangs were parted deep on the right, falling halfway between my hairline, and my eyebrows. The short bubble of wavy hair was cropped close to the back of my neck, and the sides fell just short of my earlobes. One thing I was certain of, was that despite its length, this style could no longer be combed into anything remotely masculine. Eileen was effusive with her praise. “That coiffure is so you, Marion. It’s to die for. To think, you walked in here with a year's worth of neglect, and now you’re just as pretty as a picture.”
“Thanks," I muttered, frozen, staring into my reflection. How was I going to explain this to my mother? How was I going to get rid of it? Was I going to have to shave my head?
A million questions raced through my mind, only quelled when Ela shrieked, “Oh my god, Marion! What have they done to you!?” I turned to see Ela, her pageboy bleached into a bright blonde.
“Doesn’t she look lovely?” Eileen asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Mrs. Barclay came around the corner, her hair up in a fresh set poodle updo. “I’ll say she does. Short hair really suits you Marion.”
“Thank you.” I said, hoping not to appear rude.
“Alright girls, collect your things. I’ll pay the tab, and then we’re going on a little shopping excursion before we meet the boys.” Another short car ride later, and we had pulled up to the doors of Abraham & Straus. The sheer immensity of the building was daunting. Five stories on a city block, filled with clothes, homegoods, and all the knicknacks and bobbles one could imagine. Once inside, Mrs. Barclay had arranged for us all to meet with a tailor to get measured for our new outfits. Apparently, she and Eileen had plans to purchase new suits. They were to attend some upcoming event for the Junior League, so Ela, and I were conscripted into the hunt for the perfect attire. I didn’t understand why I’d need a new outfit, but Mrs. Barclay was quite insistent.
After the gentleman took my measurements, I wandered around the department, hoping that I looked like I was supposed to be there. I strolled from mannequin to mannequin, not sure exactly what I was looking for. Suddenly, as though by fate itself, I came upon a bust wearing a gingham ensemble that, even with my reluctant mindset, I had to admit was delightfully precious. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the display. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mrs. Barclay had snuck up beside me. I jumped at the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay, ma’am. I was just admiring the print. It’s certainly nicer than anything I’ve ever owned.”
She snapped her fingers, getting the attention of the nearby clerk, and pointed to the display. “She’ll take everything on this mannequin, Javier.”
“Ma’am, that’s too much.” I waved my arms, blushing at the embarrassment of riches being thrust upon me. Especially considering it’s an outfit I wasn’t supposed to want in the first place.
“Nonsense. I understand you were sick for a while. It sounds to me like you could use a win. I don’t want to pry into your personal business, dear. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know it’s a bit premature, but my son is quite taken by you. I don’t blame him.”
My face flushed crimson. “I don’t understand why. I’m a touch awkward, ma’am.”
“Maybe in how you carry yourself, but believe me, you’re a pretty girl blossoming into a beautiful young woman. He’d be lucky to have you. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” I nodded in agreement, and we rejoined Ela, and Eileen who’d made their selections.
“Where should I have the packages sent, Mrs. Barclay?” Javier asked, clipboard in hand.
“You can send my purchases to my residence, Javier. As far as the girls’ things…” She paused and waited for us to answer.
“You can send them all to my address, Javier.” Eileen answered for us. She explained, “Just to keep things simple. We only live a few blocks from each other, and I’m sure Archie would love any excuse to pay Ela a visit.” At this point, Eileen was still a mystery to me. Whatever the case, I was just glad a dress wouldn’t be delivered to our apartment with my name on it. Almost as if an afterthought, she came up with a plan. “Actually…you know, girls, tonight we could have a sleepover, and then you two could come to church with my family in the morning, if you’d like. I’d love to have you. We could do each other’s hair, talk about boys...tell each other secrets.” Her tone was sweet, but I knew then and there that she wasn’t asking.
“That sounds wonderful, Eileen.” I said calmly. Really though, I was terrified of what she’d do if I said no.
“Sure, Eileen.” Ela said, shooting me a side eyed glance. Mrs. Barclay gave a nostalgic monologue on gal pals while we trailed along behind her. She didn’t know it, but the tension between the three of us was as thick as a week old stew. When we were seated in the back seat of the car again, Eileen smiled at us both, but never said a single word for the entire drive. Ela, and I in complete disbelief, huddled up together in the backseat. I knew there was no easy way to just walk away from all of it by then. The only real option we had was to see it through to the end.
When we pulled up outside of Ebbets Field, all the fears, insecurities and anxieties I had been experiencing went right out the window. The majestic structure stood tall in the north of town, and was one of the main reasons I was proud to be a Brooklyn native. We still had an hour before the first pitch so I took my time walking to the gates, taking in every sensation, from the bustle of the crowd, to the smell of peanuts. Excitement was in the air. The Dodgers were having their best season ever, after all.
Out front, Archie and the Barclay men were waiting for us. “Your hair!” Andy exclaimed, when he saw me approaching.
I blushed, and tried to hide behind my hands. “Is it that bad?”
He took my hands in his, and looked deep in my eyes. “Hey there, Dolly. Don’t cry. I was just surprised, is all. It’s real nifty. You look great, Marion.”
“I wasn’t crying.” For some reason, his compliments made me feel warm inside. I looked back into his eyes, and felt a comfort wash over me. I fluffed the ends proudly, and already knowing his answer, asked him, “Do you really think it looks keen, Andy?”
“Of course, Doll. You’re even more gorgeous than before.” Anytime I was afraid of being read, Andy was there to remind me just how silly that idea was.
His father cleared his throat loudly. I assume he was trying to get our attention, while embarrassing us as little as possible. We didn’t notice till that moment, but everyone was staring at us. For a minute there, I felt like the only people in the world were Andy, and me. “Come along now, children. Let’s get to our seats.”
In the park we found our box behind home plate. It was the best view in the house, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, I’d never catch a foul ball, or a homerun there, but let’s be honest, I was never going to do that anyway. Nothing was particularly special about the seats, other than the color. I think it just felt special to have a tiny little section of ten chairs that were just for us. The crowd was electric. I actually felt bad for the Redlegs. When another team came to Brooklyn, we let them know exactly where they were. You couldn’t find better fans. It gave a new meaning to the term home field advantage.
I took a seat between Andy and his father, setting my purse beneath me on the ground. The two of them talked over me, while I kept my eyes on the field, eager for the game to begin. Jimmy and Eileen had gone to grab refreshments for everyone, so Ela seized the opportunity. “Marion, I need to powder my nose. Would you join me, please?” Playing my part, I grabbed my bag, and we headed to the concourse. Once out of earshot, Ela said, “I’m so sorry about this, Marion. How are we going to explain your hair when we get home tomorrow?”
“Wait, are we actually going to stay at that psycho’s house tonight?”
“Eileen’s not a psycho. She’s my friend. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything. If she did recognize you, I don’t see why she’d want to humiliate you. Sure, she’s got a fierce reputation, but she’s not malicious. We’ll stay there tonight, and see what’s what. Besides, it will give us some time to figure out what to do about your look.”
“If you’re sure, I’ll go along with it. There’s a payphone over there. We should call your mom.”
I fished a nickel out of my purse, and we dialed the number. Ela’s mom answered, but I only heard one half of the conversation. “Hey Mom…We’re at Ebbets Field now…I know I should have talked to you about it face to face, but with your schedule there wasn’t really a good time…Yeah, Marion’s with me…He’s having a good time…Yes, we’re safe…No, their parents are here. So’s Eileen…She’s doing well. Actually, she invited me to stay the night tonight…Marion’s going to stay with the boys over at Andy’s…Okay…okay…uhh…Okay, I promise…Love you…Marion loves you too…See you tomorrow.” Ela hung up the receiver. “We’re covered until tomorrow. We should hurry back to our seats before someone comes looking for us.”
All through the national anthem, my mind was in a thousand other places, but it was a different story once Sandy Koufax took to the mound. “Where’s Newk?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” Mr. Barclay answered. “Don Newcombe hasn’t played in the last few games. I haven’t read anything about an injury, so I’d assume he’s probably resting up for the National League Championship.”
“But Koufax isn’t even a starter usually. I hope everything is okay.” It’s funny to think how I thought so little of him back then, when he’d go on to have one of the greatest careers in the history of baseball.
“Looks like you’ve brought us a real fan, son.” Mr Barclay said, patting his boy on the back. “I know you two were preoccupied with your date, so you probably missed it. Erskine didn’t do so great last night. I imagine that’s why they’re giving the youngsters a chance.”
At the top of the first inning, Johnny Temple made his way to the plate. Koufax first pitched a ball. The second go round he followed it with a strike, right down the middle. Koufax tried for another fast ball after, but Temple got a hold of it, and hit a fly ball right up the middle. He didn’t quite get all of it though, and Snider managed to get underneath it. That was the first out. When Burgess stepped up next, they played a similar game of cat and mouse, but this time, Koufax managed to strike him out. I got a little nervous when Kluszewski managed to take a base, but my worries proved unfounded when Furillo caught another fly ball to send the Redlegs back onto the field.
The bottom of the first started with a double play by Gillam. After that Fowler managed to strike out Reese, but threw a wild pitch on Snider, so Gillam was able to steal third. One fly ball later, and Gillam was able to bring it home for the first run on the board. Right after that, Snider was still on first. Furillo was at bat. Fowler threw one, and Furillo didn’t even try to mess with it. I think Fowler had something to prove then, but failed to make his point. His second pitch was straight over the plate. Furillo wasn’t having any of it though. He made solid contact with the ball, sending it right up the middle. Going, going, gone. Not a single butt was in its seat because Carl Furillo had just hit a two-run homerun. I was jumping up and down, clapping my hands together, when I turned to look up at Andy. Just as swept up in the moment as I was, he leaned down, and planted a big fat kiss on my lips, and then pulled me tight into his chest. “Andy, your parents are right there.” I said, nodding back to his father. If I could have seen behind me, I would have seen Mr. Barclay grinning proudly.
The next few innings, neither team would give ground, but there was a ferocity to Koufax. He didn’t let a single runner on base. In the fourth Jackie Robinson managed to steal his way to another run for the Dodgers. For the rest of the game Koufax was striking out hitters left and right. Through the use of good fundamentals, the Dodgers had managed to score three more runs. In the ninth, when Bridges hit a popup to short, Pee Wee Reese easily made the catch, and that was it. The Brooklyn Dodgers beat the Cincinnati Redlegs in a blowout Seven to nothing. We destroyed them. Again, not a soul was sitting down. People were throwing their hats in the air, and cheering long after the last play had been made. I must have gotten swept up in the moment, because this time, when I locked eyes with Andy, it was me grabbing him by the cheeks, and planting a big wet one on his lips. When I remembered myself, for the hundredth time that day, everyone was staring at us. “Just a little thank you for bringing me today.” I whispered, shyly, my cheeks burning red.
After battling our way through the mob, everyone said their goodbyes outside. Andy had pulled me aside to have a private conversation. “I’m really glad you came today, Marion. I have to admit, I thought I blew it last night, but here you are. It’s like a dream come true.”
“You’re sweet, Andy, but I’m no dream. You could do so much better than me. Trust me.”
I saw the sadness on his face, but he was trying to keep it together as was expected of young men back then. Honestly, my heart broke a little. “That’s nonsense. You’re the ginchiest girl I’ve ever met. You’re just so pretty…wait, sorry, you’re more than that. You’re smart. You like science fiction. You love baseball. We have so much in common. Just say you’ll go out with me one more time. Please. If you say no again, I just might die.”
He was being melodramatic, sure, but who isn’t at that age.With all those hormones raging, everything is just so big. Inside, I was being melodramatic too. I wanted out of my predicament, but I didn’t want to hurt the boy either. “I’ll think about it. Just give me a little time to decide.”
His face lit up, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. “You’re the best, Marion. I’ll call you later this week.” Him calling me was not part of the plan. I’d definitely have to worry about that when the time came. Whatever the case, I’d have to discuss it with Ela later.
Ela, Eileen, and I were saying our goodbyes before we walked to the trolley stop. Archie had decided to stay behind for a boy’s night since we were having a girl’s night. “Are you sure I can’t call you girls a cab?” Mrs. Barclay asked for the hundredth time. “I just don’t feel right about leaving you to fend for yourselves.”
“We’re okay Mrs. Barclay.” Eileen assured her. “We live in Williamsburg. There aren’t too many stops. It’s still daylight out, anyway. Thanks so much for everything today.” Ela, and I echoed her sentiments, and after a prolonged goodbye, we headed to the trolley stop on the corner.
Once we got to the stop, Ela looked back to make sure we were out of earshot, and then she went off. “What the hell was that, Eileen? Were you trying to torture Marion.” After the outburst, she realized that everyone at the stop was staring at the three of us, so she quickly zipped her lips. The trolley didn’t pull up too much later, and we were on our way back to the neighborhood. I had a good mind to stay on when we got to Eileen’s stop, and just ride it the rest of the way back to our apartment, but I didn’t plan far enough ahead to get past Magda, and out of my costume.
When we got to the butcher shop, instead of going in the main entrance we went through a side door, and up a staircase to the Connolly family’s apartment. “Is that you, Eileen?” her mother called out in her thick Scottish brogue. “Come to the kitchen before you go to your room.
“Coming, Mother!” she shouted back, slipping her shoes off at the doorway. We followed her example, and left our shoes in the pile by the back door. “I’ve got Ela, and Marion from down the street with me.”
The Connolly household wasn’t dirty by any means, but it wasn’t exactly organized either. On the hutch in the entryway alone, there was a toy car, a feather duster, two sets of keys, a full bottle of coke, and a rubber chicken for some reason. I hadn’t seen them yet, but I heard what sounded like a mob of small children pitter pattering across the floor. Navigating through the maze of unpacked boxes, and stacks of newspapers, we found our way to the kitchen, where Mrs. Connolly was waiting with a baby on her hip. “Ela dearie, how are you?” she said with a cigarette hanging from her lips. She pulled Ela tightly into her oversized bosom. I tried not to snicker when Ela looked like she was going to suffocate. She was a shapely lady, not cursed with an excess of shame. Her hair was up in rollers under a hairnet, and she wore a floral print mumu. “How’s your mother doing? Did you all enjoy that corn beef last week?”
“Thanks for asking, Mrs. Connolly. She’s fine, and it was delicious.” Ela was always so polite. I knew for a fact that she didn’t want to be there at that moment, but not another soul had any reason to think otherwise.
“And who do we have here?” Mrs. Connolly asked, turning her attention to me.
Eileen answered for me. “Mother, this is Marion. She and her mother live with the Kowalskis.”
“Oh right. I don’t know why, but I thought I remembered there being a boy there though. Oh well. Obviously that wasn’t right. It’s nice to meet you, Dearie.” She pulled me into her bosom this time. She might have been underdressed, but she was certainly wearing an ample amount of perfume. “That reminds me. A delivery boy dropped off some packages for you a little while ago. I hope you’re not taking advantage of Mrs. Barclay.”
Eileen shrugged her off. “I’m not, Mother. She’s just a nice woman, who likes to lavish gifts on people. Who am I to stop her? Only some of those things are mine anyway. The rest are for Marion, and Ela. I just had them deliver them here, since the store already had our address on file.”
“Okay. I supposed that’s fine. You had better write her a nice thank you note for this though.”
“Of course, Mother. I always do. Anyway, if it’s okay with you, Ela, and Marion are going to stay here tonight, and go to church with us in the morning. We’re going to have a slumber party. You know..do each other’s hair, talk about boys. That kind of thing.”
“I don’t see why not.” Mrs. Barclay said, stroking her chin. “As long as their mothers are fine with it.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Eileen said, kissing her mom on the cheek. “Can we order pizza for dinner?”
“I suppose. You lot run along now. I’ve got a dozen more bottles to boil.” We stepped into the hallway where three heads of curly red hair came out of a room, and blew past our waist in a blur, giggling the entire way. When we stepped through the door to Eileen’s room, it was obvious she was a different animal from the rest of her family. Everything had a place. Her bed was perfectly made up, hospital corners and all. It was the quintessential teenage girls bedroom, decorated in lace and frills.
“Okay, enough bullshit, Eileen.” Ela said as soon as the door closed behind her. I’d never heard her be so vulgar before. “What is going on? Why did you shanghai Marion into getting that haircut? Are you trying to punish him for something?”
“Yeah.” I said, joining in the interrogation. “I thought you didn’t even know I existed. What have you got against me? Why are you torturing me?”
“Torturing you!?” Eileen was shocked at the accusation. “I’m not torturing you. You look amazing. Of course I know you exist. We were in the same classes in middle school. You were the only other kid in our grade with fiery red hair. We even had a few classes together in high school, before my family moved to Williamsburg. I think it was serendipitous that you followed behind. Marion, I love you.”
“You…love me?”
Ela wasn’t having any of it. “You love him? That’s insane. You don’t even know him.”
“Not romantic love, Ela. I mean, I love what you’re doing. I love the way you look. It’s all so…thrilling. From here on out, I want to take care of you, and guide you along your path. You know, Helen Liebowitz and I used to whisper about you in home room. You were just so pretty. The first time we saw you in fifth grade, we debated for hours on whether you were a boy or a girl. She thought she’d won. She said it was obvious, since you were wearing pants to school, but I wasn’t convinced. I knew I was right when you turned up this morning, looking like a young Irish Dorris day. When I heard about your accident, I was terrified that it had ruined that pretty face of yours. Instead, you came back from it even more beautiful. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen. It’s fate. ”
“You’re not right, Eileen. You’re insane, is what you are. I might be wearing this getup, but underneath it beats the heart of a red blooded male.” I tried to sound commanding, but I was so flustered, my argument squeaked out in a far less than intimidating fashion.
“I’m not talking about how you look, darling. Sure, I’d spend hours sitting behind you in class imagining how cute you’d look with twin plaits in your hair. I mean, when the beautician asked what you wanted, and you fumbled like a buffoon, I saw an opportunity to help you along your way. You needed a style that suited you, and now you have one. You couldn’t wear my ponytail forever anyway. I was going to want it back sooner or later.”
“But I didn’t want a new style, Eileen. All this was supposed to be temporary.”
“It’s true, Eileen. It started as a bit of fun, and then Archie saw him by pure chance. Somehow it led to him asking us on a double date with him and Andy. It just got out of hand.”
“I’m sure my stupid brother was the instigator, but Marion came out today looking like just another teeny bopper, of her own volition.”
“That was just to see the baseball game, Eileen.” I said defensively. “I took advantage of Andy. Believe me. I’m regretting that now.”
A sardonic smile crossed her lips. “So then, what was that kiss?”
“He kissed me after that home run. He just got swept up in the moment.”
“Not that one, Marion. The second one. You kissed him.”
“Wait, she’s right actually.” Ela said, turning her focus back to me. “We all saw that, Marion. You did kiss him…unprovoked. What was that all about?”
“That was…” I tried to come up with a halfway decent excuse, but that well was dry so I wound up reusing one. “I got swept up in the moment too.”
Ela, who had fully switched sides at this point, crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. “It seemed to me you got swept up by him. Not the ball game. I mean, I don’t know a lot about baseball myself, but after the trouncing the Dodgers gave the Redlegs, the ending was sort of anticlimactic.” I could literally feel my face burning crimson.
“She’s right, sweetie.” Eileen joined in. “You swooned, the same way I swoon when Jimmy kisses me like that.” I searched for any other reason, other than the one I didn’t like. There was a cognitive dissonance between the person I thought I was supposed to be, and the person I’d been since my date the previous night. Unable to respond, I froze up, and a single tear streamed down my cheek. “Don’t cry, baby.” Eileen said, embracing me. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.” Ela wrapped her arms around both of us, and we sat in a group hug for a few minutes, while I processed exactly what was going on. When she finally released me, Eileen offered, “You know, you’re stuck here till tomorrow afternoon. You might as well relax, and enjoy the slumber party. Leave tomorrow’s problems for then.”
I wiped my face, and silently nodded in agreement. As a group, we decided what kind of pizza we wanted, and Eileen placed the order. I’d never known anyone who had a phone in their bedroom, but Eileen was the kind of girl who got what she wanted, so it didn’t surprise me. She put on a record, and we spent the rest of the evening talking about people we went to school with, and doing our nails. When bedtime approached, Eileen loaned us two nightgowns to sleep in, and the girls taught me how to set my hair for the evening. I had most of my hair rolled up in pin curls following the lines of my style, and two little curlers holding my bangs taught above my forehead. We washed off our makeup, and I was shown how to wrap my hair in a chiffon scarf to protect it while I slept. In true slumber party fashion, we were up for another two hours after the lights went out. We couldn’t stop joking around, and asking each other silly questions. I’m not even sure exactly when I drifted off. The hair pins did take a little getting used to, but soon enough we were sound asleep, and tomorrow’s problems would have to wait for me to wake.
High School Sweetheart
Chapter 4
By Lauren Bliss
Sunday morning, I awoke to a breakfast of sugar smacks, and coffee. Mrs. Connolly seemed to always have her hands full, so it was no surprise that she fixed the family’s morning meal by taking the path of least resistance. Still, I thought it nice that their whole clan, all eight of them, had breakfast together. Archie had stumbled in pretty late, well after we went to sleep, and it showed. He shoved his cereal into his mouth in heaping spoonfuls, while watching his father go on and on about how they arrived in the US.
It was my first time meeting Mr. Connolly, but I could tell that it was a story he’d told a thousand times before. Maybe it was how expressive he was, waving his giant arms around. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up when he got to his favorite parts. It was probably because of the way his kids mouthed the words along with him, not missing a beat. “...and we came here, just before the stock market crashed. I had big dreams when I moved here, and I guess the lord saw fit to remind me that the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Anyway, I worked as a day laborer down at the fish market for a little while, and slowly but surely we saved up enough to put a down payment on a little butcher shop. We must have been ready, because that’s when this fella came along.” He put his hand on Archie’s shoulder, and gave him a loving shake. Loving as it was, it wasn’t gentle, and Archie dropped the next bite on the floor before it could reach his mouth. Mr Connolly continued, undeterred, “Our family kept growing, and with it, so did our little shop. We were running out of room both upstairs, and downstairs, so we had to move over here a couple of years ago. Now the family, and the business are both doing well. I’m so blessed.”
“That’s very interesting, Mr Connolly.” Ela was always so polite with adults. It’s probably why she could get away with murder. She winked to her beau picking up his cereal from the floor, and said, “I can’t say I’m upset you came here when you did.”
“I don’t doubt that, lassie.” he replied, chuckling from his bouncing belly. “I’m glad you'll be joining us for services this morning. Are you girls Episcopalian?”
Ela answered, “No sir, we’re both Catholic.”
I added, “The bad kind of Catholic though. You know, the ones who only go to church on Christmas, Easter, when someone gets married, or when somebody dies.”
Mr Connolly must have thought I was hilarious, because he laughed so hard that he passed gas right there at the table. His family groaned in unison, almost as if to lament, “This again.” They all acted put out, but it was obvious to anyone that there was a lot of love in this household. “Okay, then.” he said, after calming down. “We need to be out the door by ten-forty five. Boys, let the girls have the W.C. first. The three little children with the shaggy red hair all made their displeasure known, but their father was quick to quell them with a pearl of wisdom. “Fellas, a lot more work goes into a lady’s sunday best. It’s only the fair and gentlemanly thing to do, suffering through a little lukewarm water. It builds character.”
He wasn’t lying. It was an incredible amount of work to get ready for church. I was under the impression that it was a day of rest, but the girls had to put in more work on Sunday morning than on the average school day. After the three of us each took a quick shower in rapid succession, we snuck back into Eileen’s room to get ready, letting the rest of the family have their turn in the bathroom. Eileen and Ela quickly dressed themselves, and did their makeup while I bathed, so they could work together to get me up to snuff as quickly as possible. I can’t say I wasn’t relieved that someone else had to handle the task of my makeup, but I was also a little hurt that Ela didn’t think I was capable enough to have it finished before we needed to leave. Both girls were basically ready to go, the seams of their stockings straight, and they were wearing the dresses Mrs. Barclay had bought them, only missing the few finishing touches that complete an ensemble.
Eileen was wearing a green floral number, with a swan neckline, made of organza, and chiffon. She wore her bob as she usually did, though a touch more sculpted than normal. Ela switched it up, and pulled her hair up into a short ponytail. She looked amazing in her new dress. It was a black, pink, and white linen confection decorated with lace, a scalloped neckline and sleeves, buttons up the front, and a little bow accent at the neck. All of that over what I could only assume was a very voluminous petticoat. Strangely, I hoped I looked half as good as them when they’d finished. I told myself it was to keep up my ruse, but in actuality, I was starting to become a little jealous.
They fastened me into a full girdle first, flattening everything in front. Then, they showed me how to affix the stocking to each of the little garter tabs, in case I needed to adjust in the ladies room later. Ela wrapped the corset around me, and with no hesitation, started cutting me in half again. After I stepped into my own petticoat, they both helped guide my new dress over my head, careful to avoid my face so as not to muss the wonderful makeup application Ela had created. Eileen was thorough in her annotations of what she was doing with my hair, from taking out the pins, to brushing out the curlers. “I’m going to go ahead, and pin your hat on, since we’re building your hairstyle around it, today.” she explained. Once everything was in place, I was finally allowed to go to the floor mirror, and get a good look at my semi formal attire. One thing I could say for certain, was that Mrs. Barclay had excellent taste. The short sleeved, rose, gingham shirtwaist dress was absolutely gorgeous. It generously flattered my svelte figure, decorated with a simple black belt at the waist. It buttoned all the way up the front to the crew neckline just beneath my painted visage. My hair was smoothed down on top, falling to my ears with little dainty curls at the ends, and topped with a little crescent hat that perfectly matched the color and print of my dress. Humility is a virtue, and one that I was lacking in that particular moment. I thought I looked sophisticated, and radiant. It was almost time to leave, so Ela put on a pink circle hat, and slid a hat pin through its lace covered wire frame, holding it firmly in place. Eileen placed a simple undecorated white caplet on the crown of her head, and dug through a drawer, retrieving three pairs of wrist length white gloves, one for each of us. We headed to the foyer, where Ela, and I stepped into our conservative pumps while Eileen searched through a sea of shoes till she found the particular pair she was looking for. Even with the generous head start, the rest of the family was already outside waiting for us.
I was sure that when we walked in the chapel, the entire congregation was going to turn in their seats to chastise and shame me for having the audacity to show up in the house of god dressed in such a queer manner. Of course nothing of the sort happened. It was rather uneventful and reminded me a lot of our own rituals, though there was much less latin. I half expected grape juice when it came time for communion, but I can confirm, they used real wine, the same as we did. After the service, they held a spaghetti lunch in the fellowship hall for anyone who cared to join. The mood was pleasant enough, but I overheard a lot of women gossiping about what each other were wearing, and whoever’s husband had a drinking problem, confirming many of the rumors I’d heard about protestants. Whatever the case, they weren’t hurting anyone, and the food was surprisingly delicious. The comfort of the pleasant escape wouldn’t last too long, though. With every tick of the clock, I was edging closer to having to deal with the consequences of my decisions.
“Are you sure I can’t drive you girls?” Mr. Connolly asked for the thirtieth time. We had just returned to their apartment to collect our belongings, and I was finally going to go home and get back into boy clothes.
Ela reassured him, “No, we’re fine Mr Connolly. I make this walk all the time for my mom. It’ll take you longer to warm up your car than for us to get there, sir. I promise we’ll be fine.”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to twist my arm.” he said. “I’ll be picking you up tomorrow for school though. I insist. I’m taking Eileen anyway, and like you said, you’re just down the street.”
“You don’t have to do that, sir.” I said, trying to think of any excuse I could, but coming up short. Unfortunately, he just took this as me being polite.
“No dear, I insist.” He put a finger to his nose, and winked, saying, “You don’t have to tell your mothers. You girls can keep the bus fare for a treat at the soda fountain.”
I attempted another protest, but Ela interrupted, “Thank you, sir. We’ll see you then.” then whispered, “We’ll figure something out later.”
We said our goodbyes to their family before Eileen, and Archie walked us outside for a more personal farewell. Archie and Ela were busy melting into each other’s eyes, and whispering sweet nothings to each other, leaving me and Eileen to have one last private conversation. “You should try out for cheerleading tomorrow, Marion.” she suggested, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re certainly pretty enough.”
“Why would I do that, Eileen?” I couldn’t believe it. It was like every protestation I’d voiced had gone in one ear and out the other. “I’m still a boy under this getup, remember?”
“You say that, but it’s obvious to anyone with one eye and half of a brain that you’re a girl, dear. You’ll see it soon enough.” If I didn’t know better, I’d have still thought she was trying to torture me, but her expression was so loving and genuine. She’d been nothing but kind to me. Out there, absolutely, but kind nonetheless.
“Okay, sure.” I was at a loss for words. We shared a warm embrace. I finally managed to pry Ela away from her new beau. We made the short journey home, where I expected Magda to be waiting for us. I imagined scenes from some cheesy spy movie, where the sidekick distracts the enemy agent, while the hero sneaks in to get a macguffin through some clandestine means. Ela was pretty insistent that we just tell everyone the truth, and at worst we’d get a stern talking to, and our ruse would be one of those funny stories people tell years down the line. I wasn’t convinced though. I was sure Archie’s dad might very well kill me for spending the night in his daughter’s bedroom. I was also convinced I’d be the laughing stock of the entire neighborhood once word got out. One reason I didn’t want to say out loud though, was that I really didn’t want to do anything that could hurt Andy. He’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman, and he really didn’t deserve the social fallout of my decisions.
I’d resolved to run as fast as possible to my bedroom once we swung open the door to our apartment, however my worries proved unnecessary. I was just about to slam my bedroom door behind me when I realized there was no sign of Magda in the apartment. Ela called out from the kitchen, “She left a note…and money for pizza…I don’t know about you, but I’m already sick of pizza.”
I kicked off my heels, and went back to the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“Looks like Mrs. Schwartz, next door, had some kind of heart attack or something. Mom took her to the hospital.”
“Oh. Well, that’s…terrible…” I wanted to say it was fortunate, but realized that it was extremely selfish to be grateful for someone else’s misfortune. “I’m going to wash my face, and then head straight down to Floyd’s.”
“The barber shop is closed. It’s Sunday, remember.”
“Of course it is.” I hung my head in defeat. “I guess I’m going to jump in the shower, and wash out these curls, at least.”
“You’ve got a perm, Marion. If you wash your hair, and don’t set it right after, you’re going to be left with a wild, kinky mess, and then you really will look strange.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
“Just wash your face, put on some comfortable clothes, and I’ll try and sort you out.” I did as instructed, and found myself sitting on the floor in my pajamas, in front of Ela, who was on the couch, setting my pin curls. On the T.V, the Dodgers were playing the Cardinals, but my thoughts were elsewhere. In the morning, Mr. Connolly would be taking the “girls” to school. I couldn’t very well go out to meet them in my slacks and button-down. Sneaking out early was an option, but playing the movie all the way through in my mind, Mr Connolly was such a sweetheart, he’d probably worry about my wellbeing, and check up on me, when he dropped off Ela, and Eileen. Imagine if he found me at school, far more masculinely attired than the last time he’d seen me. I’d not only dread that conversation, but also we’d be having it in front of my new homeroom, or worse, school administration. Of course, that all seems incredibly improbable now, but at the time, I was setting personal records for anxiety levels.
“All done.” Ela had just finished tying up my hair with a chiffon scarf. “What are you going to do about tomorrow?”
“I think the best course of action would be for me to pack a gym bag full of boy clothes, and to change once we get to school. That way, Mr. Connolly will have no idea.”
“I don’t know, Marion. What about your hair?”
“Whatever, Ela. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
After a deep breath, she took my hands in hers, and looked me straight in the eye. “Marion, this isn’t sustainable. I think it’s time to cut our losses, and just tell the truth. It’ll be fine. The Connolly’s seem to have a sense of humor. They’ll probably find it funny, and Andy…”
“Andy can never know!” I was screaming. It came out of nowhere. For reasons I wasn’t ready to admit to myself, the idea of Andy finding out terrified me more than anything else. “We’ll stick to my plan, Ela!” I got up from the floor, and went to my bedroom, locking it behind me. I don’t know who won the ball game, and I never had dinner. I just cried under the covers until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke to find Ela already up, and dressed, making breakfast. “Good morning.” she said quietly, when I walked into the kitchen. “Sit, and eat, please. We’ve got a busy morning.”
She made flapjacks, and syrup; my favorite. “I’m sorry about my outburst yesterday. I know you’re just trying to help.”
“I understand. It’s a lot. I do feel responsible for badgering you into doing it in the first place. I should have known better.”
“There’s not a lot we can do about it now. Let’s just get through today, and we’ll deal with the rest as it comes. I’m afraid you’re right though. Sooner or later, we are going to have to tell the truth.”
“Maybe, but you were also right. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She hugged me tightly from behind, and kissed me on top of the head, while I sat in my chair stuffing pancakes into my face. After the delicious meal, we went to her room to get dressed for the day.
There weren’t a lot of options for girls back then, when it came to school clothes. The dress codes were pretty restrictive, leaving them all looking like young professionals until the weekend. Plaid was the print of the day. Ela was dressed in a green plaid, sleeveless, button-down dress that fit snuggly, but not suggestively, all the way to beneath her knee. Jewelry wasn’t allowed, so she accessorized with a dark green headband, and a pair of black loafers. I was wearing a calf length, red plaid, swing skirt, topped by a plain white sweater set. The knit top had short sleeves, and she’d hung its matching cardigan from my shoulders, so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting too hot during the warm, late summer day. I slipped on a pair of bobby socks, and over those, a pair of brown saddle shoes. Girls weren’t technically allowed to wear makeup, but it was an open secret that they all cheated. The real rule was don’t go overboard. We both were wearing a layer of powder foundation, and single coat of mascara. She arranged my hair back to its perfectly sculpted frozen style, and found two dainty watches, one for the both of us. Dressed, I went back to my room and stuffed a change of clothes into my gym bag.
Ela, and I barely had to wait down at the street, since Mr Connolly pulled up with Eileen right on time. I was grateful, because the fewer of my neighbors that saw me dolled up as I was, the better. Eileen was picture perfect as always, in her lettered sweater with its giant W stitched to the front. She was a varsity cheerleader this year, after all. “Got plans after school, do ye?” Mr. Connolly inquired, noting my bag as we slid into the backseat of his Ford.
“Did I convince you to try out for cheerleading, after all, Marion?” Eileen asked excitedly, her face dripping with joy.
“Yeah, something like that.” I lied, buckling my seatbelt.
The ride to school wasn’t all that far, though to me it felt like we were moving at light speed. I tried to formulate a plan for when we arrived, but I didn’t yet know the campus, so in reality, I was just guessing. “First day back, girls!” Mr. Connolly said with a smile, as we pulled up in front of the building. “Best behavior and all. Marion, and Ela, I’ll see you in the morning. Eileen, I’ll see you at home for dinner tonight. Good luck today!” As we were getting out of the car, it occurred to me that we were going to have to do this dance every morning until I put a stop to it. The idea of coming clean was looking better by the minute.
I quickly scurried up the stairs, before anyone could talk to me, and inside, I searched for a single occupancy bathroom, only to find that at this particular school, they didn’t exist; at least not in any area officially accessible to students. I could peer into the teacher’s lounge through a large window on the door. Inside there was a bathroom, and from what I could see, no teacher’s to stop me. I started to open the door when behind me, I heard a booming voice shout, “Can I help you, young lady!?”
“Uhhh…yes sir…umm…” This man was just plain scary. He was certainly the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen in an argyle vest, and bowtie. “I’m…umm…new…My mother got me registered, but I still haven’t been assigned a schedule, and I have no idea where to go to get it.”
“Well it’s certainly not in there. That’s the teacher’s lounge and it’s off limits. I’m Mr Williams, the vice-principal. If you’d follow me, I’ll take you to the main office. I’m not sure how you missed it though. It’s right by the entrance.”
“Sorry, sir. I’m such a ditz sometimes.” I followed the gruff bald man to the front desk.
He said his hellos to the secretary, then introduced me. “This is…What’s your name, dear?”
“Marion Ryan, sir.”
“I found Ms. Ryan lost in the halls. She needs her schedule, so she can be on her way.”
“Oh right! Ms. Ryan!” the secretary said with a flash of recognition. “You’re the one who had that horrible accident, right?”
“Yes.” I answered, nervously.
“Right. We have so many new students, but I recall yours because it was a special case. It’s not everyday a student misses freshman year in its entirety, but still manages to pass the finals. You’re pretty bright, aren’t you?” I certainly hadn’t been for the previous few days. “Anyway…” she started flipping through several sheets of paper, and found what she was looking for. “Well, this won’t do. It looks like someone checked the wrong box somewhere along the line. They’ve got you in shop class, and boys’ gym. Let me correct that error, and we’ll have you on your way.” She used a pen to cross out my third and fourth periods, and then scribbled in the room numbers for my new electives. “Home Economics for third period, and you’ll be with Ms. Kruger for gym. Do you have your uniform?”
“No, I guess I don’t.” I said, glancing down at my gym bag.
“No problem. What are you…a two?” I just nodded my head, having no idea what she was talking about. She returned with a stack of folded, bundled, cloth, and handed it to me. With a warm smile, she said, “Good luck today, honey.” and shooed me out the door.
Mr. Williams insisted on walking me to my homeroom, where everyone was already seated and the teacher was taking attendance. I quietly found an empty desk, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention, but given I was escorted to class by the VP of the school, of course all eyes were on me, some lingering longer than others. “Marion Ryan?” The question hung in the air. I was frozen. I must have thought of a hundred different plans, and none of them were useful. I almost flung myself out of the window, but I realized I’d die of shame long before the fall would have killed me, since this particular classroom was on the first floor.
“Eh…eh…ehm!” The sound of a forcefully cleared throat alerted me to the fact that Mr. Williams was still standing in the doorway, and he still had his sights set firmly on me. I raised my hand slowly, fighting back tears. This was it. If I showed up to class the next day in a pair of trousers, with my hair chopped off, I wouldn’t fool anyone. I couldn’t find a single good decision to make. Our teacher handed out locker assignments, and we were sent off to find them. After weaving through a few winding hallways, I found mine, which fortuitously just happened to be right beside Eileen’s.
“Hey Marion!” she squealed. “Looks like we’re neighbors! We can meet here during lunch period every day! Who did you get for gym?”
“Umm…” I straightened out the schedule I had unconsciously crumpled in my hand. “Ms…Kruger.”
“Oh, she’s easy! Fourth period?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Oh, me too! Get ready to do some aerobics! They’ll be great for cheerleading, actually.”
“I’m not going to do that, Eileen.” I just couldn’t believe her. There I was, a boy in a bobby socks, and a bullet bra in the middle of a New York City high school, and she was acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Unflapped, she replied, “Oh…well you should. You’re certainly fetching enough. Keep in mind, high school is much easier when you’re a pretty cheerleader, I assure you. If you change your mind, tryouts are in the gym after school.”
First, second, and third periods were repeats of the same humiliation. Roll was called, and again and again, I’d have to identify myself as the Marion Ryan he or she was looking for. I mean really, what difference were another thirty kids with first hand knowledge going to make. I’d dug my own grave already by that point. After a dejected trudge down to the girl’s locker room, I stood frozen outside the doorway staring at the A frame silhouette on the placard. “Hurry up, Marion.” Eileen said, while pushing me gently from behind. I was so startled, I didn’t offer much of a fight, and the next thing I knew, I was being helped to a place where no man has ever gone before…at least without getting into a heap of trouble. “Mrs. Kruger lets us get away with a lot, but tardiness isn’t on that list.” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t fifteen girls not looking at, or talking to each other, while dressing and leaving as quickly as possible. I guess I wasn’t the only one who was fearful of my body being scrutinized by everyone else. I quickly found a locker towards the back by Eileen, and stripped down to my undergarments. I fetched the pastel pink playsuit that I was given that morning, and squirmed myself into it, buttoning the front up to the soft white lapels. The short sleeves, and legs were wide enough to allow for unrestricted motion at least, unlike pretty much everything else I’d worn since this misadventure had started. The crotch however was so tight, that if not for my panty girdle it would have left little to the imagination, and my secret would have surely been discovered.
Once class started, Mrs Kruger had us pair off, so of course Eileen insisted that we be partners. We started our warm ups by stretching each other out. I was pretty sure that I was about to embarrass myself, but all of the physical therapy had kept me limber, despite being trapped in bed all that time. The whole routine seemed pretty light to me, but when I looked around the gym, many of the girls seemed to be struggling. This one girl, Constance, couldn’t even bend down to touch her toes, meanwhile, Eileen, and I were pulling each other into splits with barely a few inches between our nethers. Some girls were already out of breath before we even began the actual exercises. The routine started with us on our backs on the floor, lifting our legs, holding them upright in various positions, while counting along to the beat of some classical record playing in the background. When we found ourselves on our feet, the exercises became more of a dance. It was fun. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, and definitely the most I’d exerted myself since the previous year, but it was a far cry from trying to lift a dumbbell I was never going to be able to lift while an angry old man screamed and blew his whistle at me. Thirty minutes later we were doing our cooldown stretches, and I’d nearly forgotten my predicament for the first time all day. Mrs. Kruger approached Eileen, and me, squatting down next to us.
“You girls did great today. As per usual, Eileen. Ms. Ryan, I’m counting on you to be an example for the other girls as well. I assume you’re going out of cheerleading, yes?”
“I’ve been trying to get her to, Mrs. Kruger, but she says she can’t.” Eileen added, piling on the guilt.
“Oh, why not?” Mrs. Kruger asked inquisitively.
“Umm…well…my mother is out of town until the weekend, and I really think I should ask her first. Also, I have to get home today straight away after school, so I won’t be able to try out anyway.”
“I’m not sure why your mother would have an issue with a red blooded American girl such as yourself trying out for the cheerleading squad, but it is admirable to have such reverence for your parents. It’s more than I can say for a lot of young ladies today. I’ll tell you what…Don’t worry about the tryouts. I’m the faculty supervisor so you can consider that a formality. Monday is our first practice. When your mother gets back, talk to her, and if she says it’s fine, be here after school, and there will be a spot for you.”
“Thank you ma’am.” I quietly replied, while Eileen sat across from me beaming.
History was next. The only thing I remember about that class to this day, is that he was a stodgy old man who lectured verbosely, with little else in the way of instruction. He was so very boring. If not for the textbook, I think I would have failed every exam. Next was home economics. In previous years, I’d written it off as a substanceless class full of girly nonsense, but boy was I about to find out just how wrong I was. Instead of desks there were several workspaces with two seats behind each. Right in the front row as soon as I entered the room, there sat Ela, who upon seeing me dressed just as prettily as when we’d arrived, shook her head and covered her eyes before taking a deep breath. I took the seat next to her, and got out my notebook. “Hi Marion.” she said, dryly. “I see this morning didn’t go according to plan.”
Before I could respond, the teacher, Ms. Curtly, blew in like a storm, and started passing out syllabi while nearly shouting, “Give me your attention girls because I’m only going to say this once. The first couple of weeks we’re focusing on budgeting for your household, and meal planning, but you’re going to need your own aprons by the time we start on practical skills. Also, make sure to get your own sewing kit by next month, or you will fail that section. Observation is not participation. Please understand that is not a joke.” I’ve never met another person so aptly named. The rest of the class went by without incident, and when the bell rang, I was finally free to worry about something else. What was going to happen when I got home?
I skipped the bus and chose to walk in silence. Ela followed closely behind but didn’t say anything, other than to shoo off some boys in a convertible who stopped to offer her a ride. When we got back to the apartment, I tried to think of some way to stave off discovery, but decided it was time to rip off the bandaid. After ascending the steps, I opened the door and crossed the threshold, where Magda was sitting on the sofa. She stood to greet us. “Kochanie, who is your…” she started before looking me in the eyes, and froze momentarily. “...Oh my lord…” She took a few steps back, and fell back onto the couch, then, after getting her bearings, laid into me. “Serduszko!” she shouted, standing back up. She’d called me that hundreds of times, but I don’t think I’d ever heard it with such ferocity. “Would you care to explain why you’re going about town, looking like…that!? I don’t care what you do at home, but out there, someone could hurt you.” she said through sobs.
“It’s not his fault Mom.” Ela said, rushing to my defense. She explained how this all started, trying to put the blame on herself, but I wouldn’t let her take all the heat. For the first time in a few days, I told an adult the entire truth. My thoughts, my motivations, my actions, all of it. Even the kiss. “So you see, Mom, it’s just the circumstances that got us here.” Ela said, wrapping up our story.
“Circumstances? I don’t see any circumstances. Where is the gun to your head? Where is the coercion? Every decision you’ve made, Marion, has been your own. You thought every option you chose was the best. That’s why you chose it. Now you have to live with that. As much as I can feel like it, I’m not your mother. You’re going to have to live with those decisions, at least until Nancy gets back. Then, she can decide what’s best for you. At least I can take solace that you’re pretty. It will definitely make it easier for you. I love you, and I just want you to be happy with who you are, but I can’t say I’m not worried. The Nazis rounded up people like you first, and they were never heard from again. People here like to act like that could never happen again, but I’ve seen it. I know that all it takes is a few evil men, and a city of fearful people.” She placed her hand on my cheek and said, “Just be careful, Serduszko. If this is who you are, then I’d suggest that from here on out you conduct yourself as nothing less than a proper young lady. We don’t want some little boy discovering anything he shouldn’t find. I couldn’t imagine losing you.” Magda started to tear up again, and then rushed to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. I quickly followed suit, and went to my room crying, slamming the door behind me, leaving Ela standing dumbfounded. For the second night in a row, I went without dinner. At least my waist cincher wasn’t as tight.
The next morning, guilt-ridden, I was sitting at Ela’s Vanity, while she performed her magic, covering the under-eye bags that come from a night of weeping. Always the miracle worker, she hid my exhaustion well, and I was back to my pretty, polished self. After getting dressed, I opted to skip breakfast, bogged down by the weight of everything. However, just as we were gathering our purses and school bags, I noticed a small sewing kit set on top of a neatly folded apron, with a note pinned to it. It read, “You’ll need this for Home Ec.” with a little heart at the bottom. The relief I felt was indescribable. I still didn’t know how things were going to shake out, but at that point I at least knew that Magda wasn’t going to be mad at me forever.
Over the next couple of days, school went by without anything of note. One thing I did notice was how much nicer people treated me. It turns out Eileen was right. Being attractive gets you a lot further socially than I’d ever been, and I wasn’t even trying. The attention was actually pretty nice. One problem though, was that I didn’t know how to dissuade any unwanted male attention, but fortunately for me, I had Ela. She was downright ferocious when it came to protecting my “virtue” which seemed to be her euphemism of choice. Each night that week dinner was a little closer to something resembling normal. That second night back from school, I was about to change back into my boy clothes, when Magda insisted I wear what I was wearing until after we finished eating, as there was no point in creating more laundry. From then on, my skirts became just another standard part of the scenery.
Thursday evening, the phone rang during our meal. Tensions might have calmed down, but I still knew better than to get up to answer it while we were eating. Magda left the table, to answer the call. I could only hear half of the conversation.
“Hello…No she can’t. We’re sitting down for dinner right now…I see…yes…Well, thank you for asking me first. That’s very respectful…That’s fine with me, as long as you have her back by curfew, and you leave me your parent’s telephone number…Okay dear…I’ll have her call you after. Goodbye.”
“Does Ela have a date?” I asked, smirking across the table.
“No, you do…if you call him back and accept anyway.” Magda said, nonchalantly.
I nearly spit my drink out. “Wait…was that Andy?”
“Yes it was. He was very polite. I approve for now…Just make sure you’re home on time, or I’ll make sure your mother grounds you until you’re thirty.”
I was floored. A week ago I was living my life as any other American boy, but somehow, in the blink of an eye. I was a sweet young girl being courted by the rich boy from across the tracks. I returned Andy’s call after dinner, only agreeing to the date, after making him beg, just a little. I figured, at the very least, I might as well get one more wonderful night on the town before everything came crashing down around me.
Saturday night, I was dressed in a simple blue sheath over a white blouse with a jabot collar. I was stepping into my black court shoes, when there was a knock at the door. I was about to answer it when Ela stopped me, saying, “Mom’s gotta give him her spiel, plus it’s a chance for you to learn how to make an entrance.” While I eavesdropped she added one final touch to my look, a little blue bow, pinned to the side of my bouffant hairdo.
Through the door, I could hear a muffled lecture, with a few key words like “gentleman” and “intentions” standing out. It was hard for me to make out everything through Magda’s accent though. When there was what I could best approximate as an optimal silence, I seized the opportunity. I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and stepped through the door.
Andy greeted me warmly. “Hey there, Marion. You look lovely this evening.” He was quite handsome in his tie and sport coat. I could tell he was definitely wound a little tighter than usual on account of Magda’s extreme scrutiny. After gathering my belongings, and suffering through one more long winded reminder about curfew, we stepped out to the street, where parked on the side of the road was his dad’s red Chevy. He opened the door for me, just like a gentleman, and held it until I swung my feet into the vehicle. We wound up spending the entire night in that thing.
Our first stop was a drive-in restaurant, where I was far too nervous to really eat much anyway. I really only ate my fries. Kids back then were all motor culture, and this place was particularly noisy, so we didn’t really get to talk too much. Andy had to pull out extremely slowly just to avoid hitting one of the dozen car hops zipping around on their roller skates. It was a relief when we finally made it about the parking lot. The rest of the night was to be spent at the drive-in theater down by the water. We arrived about thirty minutes early, so after we found our space, and hooked up our speaker box, we had nothing to do but talk until the movie started. Back then, the front seat was just that, one seat. There was nothing between me and him. I think he could tell I was nervous, and he really didn’t want to come off as fresh. The tension was palpable, so I took it upon myself to break the silence.
“Thanks so much for taking me out tonight, Andy. I hope Magda wasn’t too much. She means well.”
“No no no.” he replied, waving his hands. “She was fine. It must be crazy for you, and Ela though; having two moms in the house and all.”
“It can be a bit much sometimes, but the laundry is always done, and we always eat our vegetables.” I joked, taking the opportunity to scoot a little closer to him. “What’s this flick anyway?”
“It’s called Creature with an Atom Brain. I know you like science fiction so this seemed like the obvious choice.” It sounded interesting enough. It’d been over a year since I’d been to the pictures, so this was a milestone for me. Now, I’ll admit that by today’s standards that film would be considered pretty corny, but in the opening scene, when that robot zombie shows up at the mansion and kills that man, I nearly peed my panties. Just as the zombie was about to grab him, I jumped and covered my hands with my eyes. That’s when I noticed Andy had wrapped his arm around me, and was pulling me closer to the “safety” of his chest. He was a huge nerd, but he could be pretty smooth when he tried. That’s as far as he went, remaining the picture of a gentleman. As I grew more comfortable, my attention was less on the movie, and more on the young man to my left. I let my head rest on his shoulder, and let my mind wander. How far could this actually go? It had to end eventually, I thought, but I didn’t want it to.
At ten fifteen sharp we were parked on the curb outside my apartment. Andy had already zipped around the car, and opened my door. I took his hand, welcoming the help to step up onto the elevated sidewalk. There we locked eyes, and for the two of us, the world stopped turning. He was so nervous a little sweat had collected on his brow. “Marion, I gotta say, I just think you’re the keenest. I want you to be my girl. Will you wear my ring?” He fumbled through his pockets and pulled out his class ring, with a thin pretty chain looped through.
“You want me to be your steady?” I asked, swept up in the moment. He just nodded his head hopefully. A few days prior, I had thought that I wanted this all to be over, but in that exact moment, none of that mattered anymore. I had made a full one eighty and now, I never wanted it to end. This boy made me happy. In a way that had been drilled into my head that he wasn’t supposed to, but he did, and I didn’t care. I gushed, “Yes!” and took the ring from him, looping the chain around my neck and wrapping my arms around his. I planted a big wet one, half on his lips, and half on his cheek, leaving a big red print.
“That’s just swell, Marion.” he beamed, pulling me in tightly. We kissed full on the mouth one more time before he shooed me off, trying to stay in Magda’s good graces. I hurried up the stairs, and opened the door to the dark apartment, swooning over the hunky dreamboat who I could now officially call my boyfriend. For a brief moment I didn’t have a care in the world. I went to set my purse on the table, but completely missed, dumping it, and its contents all over my living room floor because as soon as I turned my head, there was my mother sitting on the couch, quietly waiting for me.
"You really do look lovely, honey." She said, as though everything was normal, though I could sense her anxiety in her voice.
"Th…thanks…Mom…" I sputtered. "You're back early."
"I am. We have a lot to discuss."
"I know, Mom. I'm so sorry about all of this." I cried, as tears welled up in my eyes.
"It's okay, baby. You don't have anything to be sorry for." she said, beginning to cry herself. She rushed from her seat and pulled me deep into the kind of comforting hug that only your mother can give. Then she placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. "Magda told me what you’ve been up to when I called earlier this week. This is how it's going to be from now on, I take it?"
"I don't know, Mom. I don't really see a way out of this without switching schools." I mumbled through deep sobbing breaths.
"I see. Is that what you want to do?" she asked, fingering the little trinket now wrapped around my neck. "It looks to me like someone besides the school is expecting to see my daughter again sometime soon. I hope he's a good boy."
Then and there I truly hit my breaking point. Bawling, I wailed, "I'm so disgusting! I don't want to be like this, but it's now more apparent than ever that I'll only ever be a fairy! Dad was so repulsed by me that he killed himself, and he tried to take me with him! Seriously Mom, he crashed the car on purpose!" Just then, I collapsed on the floor in front of my mom. I could see she was just as torn up as I was. She kneeled down, and pulled me tight into her bosom, and stroked my hair, while my tears stained the bodice of her dress.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marion?”
“I dropped the furniture we were supposed to be delivering, because I’m such a weak sissy. Dad was going to get fired because of me. Seriously, he said, fuck it all, and then flipped his truck on purpose.”
My mother gently placed her hands on my cheeks, and forced me to look into her eyes. “Oh you poor thing. I’m so so very sorry I haven’t done a great job protecting you from him. Calm down, baby. I need you to take a few deep breaths, and listen to me.” I rubbed the snot from my nose onto my crisp white blouse sleeve, and tried my best to pull myself together. She continued, “You didn’t make him do that. Do you understand? I need you to understand. You did not make him do that. Your father killed himself because he was an angry, miserable, little man who couldn’t take responsibility for his own failures, and he tried to kill you to punish me. He didn’t care about anybody but himself.”
At this point, I’d managed to stop sobbing. I tried to regain my composure, “I don’t understand. Why did he want to punish you?”
Mom took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, sorting out what she wanted to say. “Honey, look…It’s time I was honest with you…I never loved your father…When we met, I was young. There are a lot of expectations on us girls when it comes to our desires. I was supposed to meet a boy, and fall in love, then get married and make babies, like any other good Catholic girl. The thing is…um…I’ve never really been attracted to a man. I’ve definitely never loved one. I had been spending a lot of time with one of my schoolmates. They called it a romantic friendship at the time. Nobody really paid us any mind, but once I was grown, there were expectations, so I decided that one man was probably just as good as the next.”
“Okay…” I was puzzled. “I still don’t understand.”
“I married your father to check a box. A lot of folks from the stage share my proclivities. It’s common for people like us to marry for safety, and to have our true life on the side. My mistake was deciding Micky Ryan was the best I could do. It was a mistake, but a mistake I’d make all over again, because it gave me my two beautiful children. There’s nothing wrong with you honey…you’re beautiful…you’re just..like me…sort of…Marion, the day before the wreck, your father saw me kissing another woman…Magda…He was irate. We got into a horrible fight. He hit me again. That was enough for me though. I told him I wanted a divorce. He said he’d have me locked up in the asylum so I told him I’d let every two-bit thug who he owed anything to just exactly where to find him. He stormed out in a rage, and that was the last time we spoke.”
I could tell it was almost impossible for her to get those words out, but once she did, there was a peace in her expression that I’m not sure if I’d ever seen before. “Wow.” I whispered, more to myself than her. I guess that story about her grandpa’s hair was true. “That’s a lot, Mom.”
“I know. If there’s anybody left to blame, it’s me. I’m so sorry.” Now she was crying, and it was my turn to comfort her.
“It’s not your fault, Mom. You were trying to make the best of a bad situation.”
“You’re so sweet, Dear, but the one person I’m completely sure is innocent in all of this, is you. Your father was too stupid of a man to ever really understand just how beautiful and special you are. I’m so happy that you’re my child. I’d give up the whole world for you.” After all that, we held ourselves in each other’s arms for a while.
Once the tears stopped, we pulled ourselves together, and I asked, “So…Magda, huh?” I didn’t see it coming, but suddenly so many things made sense.
“We’ve been secretly together since not too long after they moved here. Girls like us, don’t really advertise for obvious reasons, but still, we just know somehow. At least sometimes. I love her very much.”
“Does Ela know?”
“She might have already. I’m not sure to be honest.She and Magda went out for a walk to give us some privacy. They are probably having a very similar talk as we speak, so she’ll definitely know before they get back. You are both old enough now, and we didn’t want to lie to you anymore…especially given your new circumstances. If you’re a girl, then that’s fine by me. If not, that’s okay too. I just need you to know I’m going to love you no matter what. So…is this who you are?”
I took a minute to think about my response, and after careful consideration, I said, “If you’d have asked me yesterday, I would have denied it until I was blue in the face, but after my date, I can’t pretend this isn’t me anymore. It’s the most comfortable I’ve ever felt in my own skin. Being a girl comes so naturally to me. On top of all that, Andy is stirring up feelings in me that I didn’t know I could have. He makes me feel pretty, and I like that.”
“I understand that. Magda makes me feel pretty. I’ve known some girls like you in my day. It’s not as strange as you’d think.”
“Really?!” I couldn’t believe it. I was positive there was some special circle of hell that was being carved out just for me, but here was my mother, telling me she’d personally known that there were at least a few others like myself out there somewhere.
“Absolutely. There are places people like us go to meet up all over the city. It’s a little dangerous on account of the police raids, but some people think taking the risk is better than being alone. Girls like you would often come. A lot of them could only be themselves on the weekend when the city is dark, but there’s a select few who get to be themselves all the time. The pretty ones. It’s a privilege I thank god you have. You know, Magda even dated a boy like you back in Poland. He was raised to be a seamstress, and from what I understand, when she last saw him, he was one of the best tailors in Warsaw. You could live like that too, but you have to be very careful. If that’s the life you want, I’ll support you. There’s a lot to discuss. We can talk about it later. Right now, I’m just so happy to see you.”
“You’re right. We’ve so much to catch up on. How was your trip? Tell me everything.”
“Funny you should mention that. I’ve got great news…”
Epilogue
That following Monday, I was back at school with a brand new pep in my step. I was one of the new cheerleaders after all. There wasn’t really a higher rung on the social ladder in high school, so for a girl my age, I was on top of the world. Still, I was playfully chastised as a traitor for carrying around the class ring of a boy from a rival school. It would have been hard to find a better boyfriend than Andy. He respected me, and never had a cross word to say. On top of all that, he was pure enough to never go pawing around and accidentally discover my little secret.
I was fortunate enough to go to game seven of the world series with the Barclay family in Yankee Stadium. If it were any other game, it wouldn’t have been as exciting, but the Dodgers had never beaten the Yankees in a world series before. Even though no runs were scored after the fourth, the tension in the air was palpable through all nine innings. Our boys brought it home though. I don’t think there was ever a more joyous occasion back in Williamsburg. The streets were flooded with the pious and the profane, hoodlums and lawmen, the wealthy and the poor. It didn’t matter. On that day we were all proud to be from Brooklyn.
My brother Marvin came home for Thanksgiving. I assume he and Mom had discussed the change because he didn’t seem too surprised when I welcomed him at the door. He just smiled, said he liked my dress, and gave me a big bear hug, and a peck on the cheek. Later that week, when he met Andy, I thought he was going to break his hand, he shook it so hard. I guess he figured he had to play the dad, since ours was gone. He didn’t realize that poor Andy had already been adequately terrified by Magda.
My mother’s good news turned out to be a job offer from the Walt Disney Company. They wanted her to move to Anaheim and work full time at the new park. After discussing it with Magda, they decided to take the offer. It was an opportunity for a fresh start. We’d be moving after the school year finished so Mom could wrap up her run with Peter Pan. That Christmas, they flew the four of us out for an all expenses paid trip to Disneyland, as promised. It was magical from the moment we got to the airport. Ela and I felt so grown up in our suits, and smart little hats. Four days of fun, then we had to head back for what would sadly be my last five months in Brooklyn.
The rest of the school year was a lot of fun though. Eileen and I became even closer, spending much of our time together as cheerleaders. We still keep in touch today. She’s still a bit crazy. Funny enough, Archie and Ela broke up almost as soon as they got together. He was a sweet guy, but he definitely wasn’t quick enough on the draw for her. They remained cordial whenever we’d spend time with his sister. He wasn’t a bad guy. Last I’d heard, he’s been married a while, and has already started his own litter.
Ela; my best friend, my teacher, my sister. Without her, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today, and for that alone, I’ll love her till the day I die. I’ll never be blessed with children like she is, but I’m perfectly content being fun Aunt Marion. After all, I get to spoil them rotten, and I never have to deal with the consequences.
I had become very attached to Andy; puppy love as they call it. He was the first person to truly make me feel beautiful; inside and out. I adored his family. His mother was always a fun mischievous coconspirator to me. She’d get me to chastise him into cleaning his room, and the like. I know she was fond of me as well. She alone was responsible for at least half the new wardrobe I took with me to California.
On that last day in the city, with my belongings strapped into the back of a moving truck, I stood on the sidewalk, looking deep into Andy’s big brown eyes, tears pooling in mine. I’d never had to say goodbye like that before. I tried to give back his ring, but he told me to keep it. He said, “You’re always going to be my high school sweetheart. That will never change.” We wrote to each other for a few months after, but when he left for college, that was that. We lost touch. In my many years since then, I’ve learned that kind of thing happens a lot.
In LA, I could begin again. For the first time, In the borough, I couldn’t walk around without the lingering fear in the back of my mind that someone was going to recognize me as the lithe effeminate boy who had lived there years before. That wasn’t a problem anymore. Mom and Magda had a fresh start as well. I know they were excited to finally get rid of those twin beds. LA wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely ahead of the curve for the time, when it came to people like us. Most folks were content to just not ask questions. Plus, there was a community to be found, and find them, we did. The sheer volume of queer folk in California was mind boggling to me, but I quickly acclimated, and then one day, it wasn’t that strange at all anymore. It was just life.
Through the community, I learned how to find men who appreciated girls like me. As I got older, it was harder and harder to date without my suitor expecting it to go further than I could allow. As gorgeous as I was, people found it strange that I never settled down. Mom, in her infinite support, spent a lot of money on me. Pills, and surgeries kept me from never tipping over into the overtly masculine, but there was little to be done about my privates. It’d be a few decades before that was a realistic option for me. Fortunately, that was never something I had to worry about. I met Roger in 1966; ten years, almost to the day since I left Brooklyn. I’d seen him around the club many an evening, never overtly leering, but his attention was definitely mine and mine alone. One night, he finally got up the courage to buy me a drink, and we’ve pretty much been together since. I just had to learn to live with the fact that he’s a California Angels fan. Fortunately, my Dodgers had followed me out west in fifty-eight so I had backup.
In my recent years, I’ve learned to forgive my father, more for me than for him. It’s not an excuse, but I know the man was in a lot of pain. I was too. Those days are long gone though. I’ve been blessed with about as good of a life as a girl like me could expect in those days. Through my journey, I’ve connected with so many wonderful people, and they’ve each helped me find a little piece of myself, but it all started with the love of sweet Andy Barclay. Don’t get me wrong. I’m lucky to have Roger, but I’ll always be grateful to my high school sweetheart.
The End
Author’s notes:
Thanks for making it to the end of my story. My goal was to write a piece of transgender fiction free of any anachronisms. As a transgender, hipster-trash, millennial, theater kid raised on Nick at Nite, and TV Land, I was pretty familiar with the fashions, and lingo of the time period, but I definitely underestimated the amount of research I was going to have to do for this little project. Vintage beauty routines, the history of NYC public transportation, cultural demographics for Brooklyn in the 1950s, and the history of various queer communities throughout the last 100 years, just to name a few of the topics I dug into. The thing that was definitely the toughest was all the baseball stuff. I’m the opposite of a sports person. Let me just say, I have a new respect for the folks who catalog all of those statistics. I can officially say that I know more about the sport now than I ever thought I could. I’m surprised it all didn’t just pour out of my ear once I finished. It did inspire me to want to go to a minor league game this summer. It looks fun, even if I don’t really care about the game itself. Maybe I’ll get swept up in it. From all I’ve read, people seem to.
This story is loosely based on my time spent trapped in bed after I was hit by a car back before my transition, and what I’d wish would have happened. That said, I’m grateful I’m a woman today, and not one back then. I like having my own bank account after all. Marion isn’t a self insert character though. Maybe in physical proportions, but I’m not at all Irish, and she’s so much sweeter. If anything, I think I’m more of an Eileen. I grew up Anglican, and I’m definitely a little nuts, and I’m extremely bossy. Just dark haired. This has been a lot of fun. I’m glad to be writing again. Expect some rereleases of my old stuff soon, as well as a premium project coming down the pipeline. I write pretty slowly, but be looking for something new from me in a few months. Again, thanks for reading my story. All the positive comments have warmed my heart.
Best wishes
-Lauren Bliss