A Woman's Place (8 page)

“And it’s only for an hour,” Jean added. “There’s nothing worse than living in a home that’s a war zone.”

“Yes, there is,” Helen said softly. She didn’t think anyone would hear her, but they all turned to stare at her.

“What could possibly be worse?” Ginny asked.

The question embarrassed Helen, but she had to answer. It would be rude not to. “Going home to an empty house,” she said quietly.

“Oh, Helen,” Ginny said, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. The motherly gesture came so natural to Ginny, but it startled Helen. Her family had always avoided such open displays of affection, and so had she. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had embraced her. Had it been Albert, all those years ago? She lifted her chin to keep away the tears.

“Don’t mind me. I shouldn’t have spoken.”

“Of course you should have!” Ginny insisted, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You don’t need to be afraid to tell us how you feel. That’s what friends are for.”

“Why didn’t you get married if you don’t like being all alone?” Rosa asked.

Helen ignored her. Didn’t anyone ever teach that girl to think before she spoke? No wonder her home was a war zone.

“It’s not polite to ask such personal questions, Rosa,” Ginny said as the silence lengthened.

“I really admire you, Helen, for having a career all those years,” Jean said. “Not too many women do. I guess I’m a bit unconventional, too, because I want to go to college when the war ends. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, why I’m so different from other girls my age. They all want to get married or become secretaries, but marriage is the last thing in the world I want. Not yet, anyway. Maybe it’s because I grew up surrounded by brothers, but I know I’m just as smart as they are, just as capable of going to college or flight school or anywhere else that they go. But I have a hard time convincing the rest of the world. My school guidance counselor kept trying to steer me into teaching or nursing as a career, and it made my blood boil—no offense, Helen.”

“No offense taken. But I hope you’re prepared to fight a lot of battles along the way. The world will leave you alone as long as you stick to one of the traditional women’s careers, but not if you try to venture out of those boundaries. One of my classmates in college decided to study medicine, and she traveled a very hard road. If women try to compete in a man’s world, they have to continually prove themselves. It isn’t enough to be as good as the men are, you have to be better. Society still believes that a woman’s place is in the home.”

“I think it’s wonderful that Jean is so determined,” Ginny said. “I went to college for a year, but then I met my husband and he wanted to get married, so I never finished.”

“What did you want to study?” Jean asked.

“Oh, I don’t know … nothing, really. My father said I should go because I could meet a man who had a professional career. That’s the only reason any of the girls in my high school class went to college—to find a husband. It didn’t matter what majors we chose because we all knew we would never finish anyway.”

“That’s absurd,” Helen said. Her words came out with such vehemence that everyone stared at her again. “I’m sorry, but I think education is very important for women.”

“I’m with you,” Jean said. “But we’re in the minority in this world.”

“What about your boyfriend?” Rosa asked Jean. “You told me you had a guy waiting for you back home. Don’t you want to marry him and have kids?”

“Of course I do.” Jean stuffed a rather dry-looking piece of cake back into her lunchbox and snapped it shut. “But Russell and I are both pretty young. He isn’t ready to get married and neither am I. We’ll figure things out after I finish college.”

“Well, I lived on my own long enough to know I hated it,” Rosa said. “Now I just want this stupid war to be over so’s me and Dirk can be together again.”

“Dirk and I,” Helen corrected.

Rosa stared at her as if she had used profanity. “Dirk and
you
… ?”

“No, no. I’m sorry; I was correcting your grammar. I’ve been a teacher for so many years that I do it automatically. The correct way to say it is ‘Dirk and I,’ not ‘me and Dirk.”’

“You got a lot of nerve.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. I’m sorry.” Helen never should have joined the other women. She always seemed to be the odd one out. Staying away had made her seem uppity, but now her conversation had reinforced that attitude—at least in Rosa’s mind.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I give the impression that I think I’m better than everyone. I don’t feel that way at all. In fact, I feel like an outsider for entirely different reasons.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Rosa asked. She had her arms folded across her chest, an expression of belligerence on her pretty face.

“Well … because you’re all so much younger, for one thing. And your interests differ from mine.”

“Because we’re married or have boyfriends?”

“That’s part of it, Rosa. I became a teacher because I wanted to provide disadvantaged young people with a good education. I attended private boarding schools when I was growing up and graduated from Vassar, an exclusive girls’ college in New York State. Most of the rural schools in this part of Michigan were one-room buildings, and all eight grades shared the same room and the same teacher. The teachers weren’t much older than their students and had only two years of training at the Normal School before teaching an entire class. Stockton is a fairly large town, so our schools at least have separate grades now—but many of the rural ones are still one-room schoolhouses. I wanted to provide the disadvantaged students and the colored children in this county with a better education.”

“So why’d you quit teaching?” Rosa asked. “Why’re you working here?”

Ginny laid her hand on Rosa’s arm. “You really shouldn’t ask such personal questions, Rosa,” she said gently.

“I don’t mind answering that one,” Helen said. “My parents both became ill a little over a year ago, and I had to resign from teaching to care for them. They’ve both passed away, but now I have to wait until there is an opening at school to reapply.”

“Don’t you find it kinda boring here? You being an educated person and all?”

“I suppose it’s boring at times, Rosa. I would hate to do this for the rest of my life. But any job can become routine if you let yourself get into a rut.”

“Housework can certainly be boring,” Ginny said with a sigh. “It’s nice to do something different for a change.” The attention shifted to Ginny, and Helen felt greatly relieved. “I loved it when the boys were babies,” Ginny continued. “And I’d love to have more children, but Harold says two are enough.”

“Why is it all up to him?” Rosa asked. “Don’t you have any say in the matter?”

“Well … no. I mean, he’s the one who has to provide for them.”

“Are you too poor to have more? How much money does your husband make?”

Helen silently shook her head at the girl’s lack of tact. Even Ginny seemed taken aback for a moment. “It’s not a question of money… .” she began. But then the whistle blew. Lunch hour was over.

As the afternoon dragged on, Helen noticed that Ginny was watching the clock, growing increasingly nervous as the shift drew to a close and the time came to face her husband.

“See you all on Monday,” Jean said after the whistle blew.

“I hope so,” Ginny murmured. “I have to tell Harold about this job when he comes home tonight, and I’m so afraid he’ll make me quit.”

“Please don’t quit,” Jean said. “The men heckle us as it is, saying that women don’t have what it takes to work here, and blaming us for slowing down the line. As if it’s always our fault. Besides, I’d hate to lose you, Ginny. You’re a good worker.”

“Thank you … but—”

Helen could no longer remain silent. “Virginia—if I may say something. I know it’s none of my business, but …” In fact, Helen had always prided herself on minding her own business and not becoming involved in the lives of the other teachers at school. She didn’t know what had come over her now that caused her to speak up. Maybe it was because Harold Mitchell reminded her so much of her own father. Maybe, deep down, she was still angry with him after all these years. Or maybe it was because she hated to see such a warm, caring woman as Virginia have all the love bullied out of her. Whatever the reason, she had to speak up.

“Yes, please,” Ginny begged. “I could use some advice. Harold always admired you as a teacher.”

Helen drew a deep breath. “Sometimes you have to decide for yourself what’s best for you to do. Only you can determine that. Others may mean well, but they usually have their own interests at heart. I wonder … if Mr. Mitchell asked you to quit, would it be because it’s best for him or for you?”

“I don’t want to be selfish. I have the children to think about … .”

“Your boys are bright, responsible children. Give them some credit. I’m certain they can handle your working. Besides, I can’t believe that you, of all people, would be a neglectful, selfish mother.”

“Thank you.” Ginny’s words came out in a near whisper.

“You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions. It isn’t up to Mr. Mitchell to decide whether or not you should work; it’s up to you.” With that, Helen left. She had spoken her mind, gotten it off her chest. Even so, she didn’t expect to see Ginny on Monday morning.

By the time Helen reached home, the big house on River Street looked inviting for once, quiet and serene after the clamor and activity of the shipyard. And she was glad to see that it wasn’t empty; her mother’s housekeeper, Minnie, was still there, putting away the last of her cleaning supplies in the pantry closet.

“You look wore out, Miss Helen. I got your supper cooking in the oven.”

“Why don’t you stay and eat with me? I’ll drive you home afterward in Father’s car.”

“Thank you, Miss Helen, but I can’t stay. I have my granddaughter Thelma living with me now, and I need to get on home and fix us some dinner.”

“Maybe another time,” Helen said, disappointed. “It seems like I never take the time to tell you how much I appreciate everything you do—”

“Oh, please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Minnie interrupted. “The reason I waited around today is because there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’re not quitting!” Helen sank down on a kitchen chair.

“I’m sorry, Miss Helen, but the truth is, you don’t need me no more. I know you don’t. And there’s all kinds of good jobs out there where I can make a little more money. They don’t even care that I’m nearly sixty-five years old.”

“How much are they paying you? I’ll give you a raise.” Minnie shook her head.

“I can’t be taking more money from you for doing nothing around here. This place don’t need cleaning every day. My granddaughter can come and clean once a month if you want her to, but that’s all this place needs.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. And I do know how to clean up after myself. I did all of my own cooking and cleaning for years when I had my own house. It’s just that … I’m so sorry to see you go.” Helen gave Minnie a week’s pay, along with a hefty bonus, and said good-bye. As she stood in the kitchen doorway watching her walk away, Helen felt a terrible loss.

CHAPTER 7

*   
Rosa
   *

Rosa arrived home from work at 3:45 to find her mother-in-law already busy cooking supper. Talk about an eager beaver! Mr. Voorhees wouldn’t even come home from work for another hour and a half!

“Did you have a good day, dear?” Mrs. Voorhees asked as Rosa put her lunchbox in the sink.

“It was okay.”

The kitchen smelled wonderful—even better than the diner did where Rosa used to work. She would gain a hundred pounds in no time if Mrs. Voorhees kept feeding her this way. Rosa had never eaten three square meals a day in her life, much less had someone cook them for her. And such delicious meals.

“Did you have enough to eat for lunch?” Tena asked. “Am I packing enough food for you?”

“Yeah, plenty … but I can do it myself, you know.”

“I always fix a lunch for Wolter, so it’s no bother to pack one for you, too.”

“Okay, then. Thanks.”

The house was so clean it sparkled. Rosa was almost afraid to walk across the floor or sit down anywhere. But when she went into Dirk’s room and saw the mess she had created in the once-spotless room, she felt a stab of guilt.

“Rosa, you’re a slob,” she mumbled as she changed out of her coveralls. She had ordered Tena to stay out of her room, and now look at it. The bed hadn’t been made all week. Clothes everywhere. And the pile of cosmetics on the desk looked like a drugstore had exploded. Rosa was gazing around in dismay, wondering where to begin, when Tena knocked on the door.

“May I ask you something, Rosa?” she said, poking her head inside.

“Hey, I know it’s a mess. I’ll get to it when I can, okay? I had a long day.”

“It isn’t about the room.”

“What, then?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

Tena hesitated before speaking, her work-reddened hands fluttering like pigeons. “I know that my husband can be stubborn sometimes. He has opinions about things like women working. But I would like to have peace in this household. To hear you two arguing at the dinner table each night … it hurts me. Please, can’t you try to get along a little better?”

“Tell him to stop picking on me all the time.” Rosa kicked a pair of shoes out of sight beneath the bed.

“My husband has always said what he thinks. You must learn, like I have, to listen and not say anything. Once he speaks, he is done. Dirk is the same. He’s so much like his father that I think if you can get used to Wolter, it will help you when Dirk comes home.”

“Hey, I’m not the type to just sit back and take that kind of baloney, okay? I can dish it out, too, you know.” She corralled her scattered makeup containers into a small mound in the middle of the desk.

“But what is the use? You won’t change Wolter’s mind. The Bible says, ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath.’ Please, Rosa. Try it once and see.”

Rosa remembered how Dirk had always spoken his mind with the other sailors, but he had never tried to order her around. Of course, they’d only been married a short time, and she hadn’t done anything to make him mad the way she had angered his father. She and Dirk had been crazy in love, still on their honeymoon, when they’d had to go their separate ways.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try,” she told Mrs. Voorhees.

“Thank you.” Tena smiled, but her eyes still looked sad and worried.

Being on her feet all day had exhausted Rosa, and she longed to lie down and take a nap before dinner. She decided to straighten her room instead. She was still sorting through piles of clothing when she heard Mr. Voorhees come home. A few minutes later, Tena called her to dinner.

“So. You have worked for a week,” Mr. Voorhees said after he’d prayed over their food. “Are you ready to give up this idea of a job and stay home?”

Rosa’s temper flared, but she glanced at her mother-in-law and saw the pleading look in her eyes. Rosa forced herself not to shout at him, but it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“I been working all my life, Mr. Voorhees, ever since I was fourteen. I was working when me and Dirk … Dirk and I … met, and he didn’t say nothing about it.” She glanced at Tena again and saw a tiny smile of approval. Rosa suddenly had an idea. “Hey, listen, how about if I give you some money from my pay every week for my room and board? How much you want?”

Mr. Voorhees looked startled—and annoyed—by her offer. “It is the man’s job to support his family.”

“Okay, then, I’ll give you money out of Dirk’s pay. I know prices are high these days, and I been eating like a pig. The food is so good, you know. And Dirk would want us to help out.”

“Have you told him that you are working?” Mr. Voorhees asked.

“Yeah, I wrote him a letter telling him all about it. It’s too soon to hear back, though. I told him that working gives me something to do all day. She don’t really need my help around here,” Rosa said, gesturing to Mrs. Voorhees. “I told Dirk we could save up and maybe buy us a house or something when he comes home.”

Wolter grunted. “If he tells you to quit, I expect you’ll obey him.” It was a statement, not a question. Rosa was about to explode when she felt Tena’s hand on hers. She decided to take Tena’s advice again and hold her tongue.

The truth was, she didn’t know what she would do if Dirk asked her to quit. She remembered how worried poor Ginny had been about breaking the news to her husband tonight and wondered how she was making out. If he was anything like Mr. Voorhees, meek little Ginny would never have the guts to stand up to him. Maybe Rosa should have offered to go over and back her up. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to nobody.

“Please pass the potatoes,” Mr. Voorhees said.

He had changed the subject! Rosa tried not to gape at him in surprise as she handed him the serving bowl. Tena was right. Once he got something off his chest, he dropped it.

After dinner, Rosa helped Tena clear the table, then took a clean towel from the drawer to dry the dishes. “Just leave them on the counter, dear,” Tena said when Rosa started to put the dishes away in the corner cupboard. “I’ll take care of them.”

“You afraid I might chip them or something? You know, it burns me up that you don’t trust me with any job.” She was about to name all the complicated stuff she was learning to do at the factory when Tena looked up at her in surprise.

“Oh, no, no, no, Rosa. Of course I trust you. But there is not much room in this tiny house, and the dishes must go into that cupboard just so if they are going to fit. I’ve had more practice, that’s all.”

Later, they sat in the living room, listening to the news on the radio. Every evening seemed exactly the same to Rosa, with the three of them sitting around like mannequins in a department store window. Wolter hid behind his newspaper, while Tena got out her basket of yarn and knitting needles. The rhythmic clacking of the needles set Rosa’s nerves on edge. Tonight was Friday, the end of a long workweek, and she was bored out of her mind.

“Isn’t there anything to do around here?” she asked with a sigh.

“I could teach you to knit,” Tena offered.

“Heck no!”

Tena’s hands froze; Wolter lowered his newspaper. They stared at Rosa as if she had said the real word.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “All this bad news about the war has me worked up. It seems like the wrong side is winning, don’t it? Now the blasted Japanese took over
another
island in the Pacific. I’m dreading the day when it’s Dirk’s turn to go.”

“But Dirk won’t be fighting,” Tena said. “He will work with a ship’s doctor when he finishes his training.”

“I know, but just getting across the ocean is going to be dangerous, with German submarines going after all our ships and trying to sink them.”

“‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,”’ Mr. Voorhees said.

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“It means that today’s worries are enough. Don’t borrow from tomorrow’s.”

“But I can’t help worrying! The whole world is at war, and someday soon Dirk is going to be shipped out into the middle of it, too.”

Mr. Voorhees shook his head. “‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow,’ Jesus said, ‘for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.”’

“Jesus talked in riddles,” Rosa mumbled.

Mr. Voorhees leaned toward her. “Pardon?”

“Look, I’m scared for Dirk, okay? I love him and I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Dirk is in God’s hands,” he said quietly. “We can only pray.”

“Well, I don’t know much about prayer, but I’m pretty sure it won’t help me stop worrying.”

She rose from her chair, too restless to stay seated, and tuned the radio to a station that played music. But before the usual Friday-night shows came on, the Office of War Information gave an announcement, telling people how important it was for women to go to work in defense factories.
“If you’re an American citizen,”
the announcer pleaded,
“we need you.”

Rosa glanced at Mr. Voorhees to see his reaction. She was tempted to say, “See? That’s why I’m working.” But he had his face hidden behind the newspaper once again. Besides, she had promised Tena that she wouldn’t argue with him anymore.

Rosa sighed and slumped back into her chair. It was the weekend, for crying out loud. She should be out having fun, not sitting here with two of the world’s most boring people. If only she had someone to talk to, laugh with. Didn’t her in-laws know how to have a little fun? She stood up.

“I’m going to go write Dirk a letter,” she said, stretching. “Then I’m going to bed.” She did write the letter, telling him all about her first week at work and how much she wanted to keep her job.

Please don’t tell me to quit,
she begged Dirk.
I need to do something to keep from going crazy—and the navy needs me to build lots more boats for the war
.

But when she finished the letter, she combed her hair and put on lipstick and her nicest party dress. Then she turned off her bedroom light and paced restlessly around the room, waiting for Dirk’s parents to go to bed. She couldn’t believe she’d lived here two whole weeks already. Things sure were different from her life back home—if you could even call it a home. Rosa could count six different apartments she and her mother had lived in when she was growing up.

The girls at work today had all been talking about going to college, and Rosa had felt like a Dumb Dora. What would they think of her if they knew she hadn’t even finished high school? And the nerve of that schoolteacher correcting her grammar! Rosa had felt like socking her. What did that old bat expect when Rosa had been forced to change schools every time her mother had changed jobs and apartments? Her mother had called herself a cocktail waitress, but the kinds of dumps that Mona Bonelli had worked in were nothing but dives. They made the Hoot Owl down the block look like the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria!

What would it have been like to grow up in a home like Dirk’s—a place that was clean and orderly, with good, warm food on the table and apple pie in her lunchbox every day? It might have been nice to have a mother like Tena—even if Rosa couldn’t seem to do anything to suit her. But she never would have wanted a father like Wolter bossing her around.

“Dirk is so much like his father,”
Mrs. Voorhees had said. Could that be true? Would Dirk expect her to settle down and be a homebody like his mother who cleaned all day and cooked huge meals and never talked back? Rosa hoped not. She could never be like Mrs. Voorhees in a million years.

At last Rosa heard her in-laws going to bed. She waited ten more minutes, then slid her bedroom window open and climbed out. She wouldn’t stay at the Hoot Owl very long—just long enough to have a few drinks, a few laughs, maybe a dance or two. Long enough to help her stop missing Dirk so much that she wanted to cry.