All Good Women (18 page)

‘Leave her alone, Moi.' Ann lifted her eyes from the magazine she had been trying to read. ‘You're just feeling confused about Randy and taking it out on her. I'm the one who's going to start sulking. The party was my idea.' She returned to the article about Jewish refugee children in England. They had placed a lot of them in homes now, but they held the others in hostels. It reminded her of the SPCA. She often wondered whether Uncle Aaron's kids — her own cousins — were among them. She couldn't postpone it any more. She would start inquiring what she could do. She thought about how much closer she felt to Rachel and her other friends in the Forum every month. They had been right to ask why she was studying Latin. As the war ‘progressed' and the world fell apart, she became less and less certain of why she was learning a dead language.

Moira kept her eyes on Teddy. ‘Then why are you acting so odd lately? What have I done? Are you mad at me for something?'

The phone rang. Ann jumped, more eager than she realized to escape the tension.

Teddy and Moira watched her walk into the kitchen and waited silently.

‘Yes,' she said loudly, obviously talking to a long distance operator.

Teddy and Moira looked at each other.

Moira thought how they had grown to distrust long distance calls. Was something wrong with Wanda? Or with Hank, perhaps. They hadn't heard from him in months. She hoped it wasn't her mother calling.

‘Teddy,' Ann called, ‘it's for you.'

Teddy rushed into the kitchen. ‘Hello, hello?' She could hear her own drawl at times of excitement. ‘Oh, Angela. Where are you?'

Ann sat down on the couch across from Moira, not ready to return to the article, immensely relieved that it was just Angela. She worried every hour about Daniel.

‘Where are you?' Teddy's voice trailed into the living room. ‘Why are you calling? Of course I'm glad to hear your voice, but it's awfully expensive. OK. OK.'

Ann tried not to listen. She turned to Moira. ‘So things are better with Randy?'

‘Truth is they're just fine.' Moira reluctantly turned away from the kitchen. ‘Don't know why I'm being so cautious about the damn party.'

‘You're back, um, together?' Ann was surprised and then aggravated with herself for being so dense. She needed to pay more attention to Moira.

‘Until he enlists.' Moira shook her head.

Ann waited.

‘It's selfish, I know. I worry about what will happen to us. There's a world war going on.'

‘Most people do worry about personal losses.'

‘But you, you're all caught up in those stories about kids in England, sending money and writing letters.' She looked at the dark swatches under Ann's eyes. She noticed the hand at the back of her neck.

Ann fell silent, thinking about the stories she had read this week. Two brothers, five and nine, from Vienna were separated in the Midlands and London. A fourteen-year-old girl never found a home because she was too old. There were hundreds of kids, thousands. And then all the adults in camps. What could be done about them? Moira was right to worry about Randy. Maybe she couldn't do anything about him, but she could at least comprehend him.

‘But that's personal, too.' Ann spoke. ‘I read for me. For Mama. Because I can't do anything else.' She closed her eyes.

The two women fell silent, hearing Teddy's excited voice from the kitchen.

‘We've talked about marriage,' Moira said tentatively. What she really wanted to talk about was the sex. Had Ann ever done it? Would Ann think she was cheap or horrible? It seemed OK if you were engaged. Her friend at work, Vivian­, said Moira was silly to worry about an outdated custom like virginity. Moira agreed, but somehow wanted an OK from Ann. She could never tell Teddy. She wanted something from Ann.

‘Oh, yes?' Ann wondered if it were important to contain her surprise. She considered the different lines of communication — how Moira would tell her this rather than Teddy; how she and Teddy liked to garden together; how she and Wanda talked about politics. When she moved into the house three-and-a-half years ago, it had been for convenience and company. Little did she expect to find new relationships as complex as a family.

‘I mean everybody is getting married — Vivian, Dorothy — but we've decided to wait for more stable times.' Moira would postpone her lovemaking talk. Ann wasn't in one of her open moods. ‘I mean it's not as if we could move into the rose-covered cottage right now.'

Ann nodded. She wanted to ask about sex, to talk about the times with Herb, but since she wasn't seeing anyone now, it didn't seem appropriate. These conversations required a fair exchange.

‘And after this last fight, as much as I love him, I can't imagine a wedding yet. Still, it seems crazy to be so calculated about it.'

‘Not crazy.'

‘I guess you're right.' Moira sniffed back the tears. No time for self-pity. Compared to Ann, she did feel terribly naive and romantic.

‘How are the classes?' she heard herself ask. ‘What are you studying now?'

‘We're reading Caesar and I must say the second semester is easier than the first.' Ann was a little perplexed and vaguely amused that Moira would steer so abruptly away from feelings. She supposed Moira was better at displaying emotions than at analyzing them. Teddy and Wanda weren't partial to doing either.

‘Do you think I could come to campus with you sometime?'

‘Sure,' Ann said neutrally.

‘A delayed New Year's resolution. I was thinking about taking a drama class.' She wished she could find more common ground. It was just a question of personality. Moira knew her pyrotechnic temper bothered Ann. And Ann's weary resignation annoyed her. But Moira thought if they could share something outside the house they would understand each other more. School seemed the safest interest to explore. Ann was always prickly about politics. Her family weighed her down. And her increasing interest in her Jewishness made Moira feel excluded. Maybe she was just jealous about that, wishing she could feel passionate about a heritage. She once asked Ann if she could go to Synagogue and the idea seemed to embarrass her friend so much that Moira never brought it up again.

‘But you're already at the shipyard and with rehearsals for the USO show and Randy. Don't you have enough on your plate?' Ann hated that expression, the heavy Puritan criticism of self-indulgence. Looking at Moira's long face, she realized that she had said the wrong thing.

‘Forgive me, hon. I'd love to show you around school. And they do some decent student theatre. Bring Randy. Pardon my bristly mood; it's been a hard week with Mama, school and my job. Sure, tell me when you want to go out to the college. Any time.'

‘Right,' said Moira, unwrapping a piece of gum and then, remembering how it irritated her friend, who had refrained from smoking for the last hour, rewrapped it.

Teddy returned to the room. Suddenly conscious of her broad grin, she composed her face.

‘That was Angela,' she said. Everything in the living room seemed too familiar. She was even a little disappointed to see Moira and Ann sitting there in the same places.

‘I told you she'd “write”,' laughed Moira. She stretched on the floor, thinking that one of the benefits of the shipyard was that she had developed a taste and a flair for these comfortable slacks.

Ann looked from one woman to the other, conscious that she had been missing something these last couple of months. She, who was so proud of perceiving psychological nuance, had been completely oblivious. There were parts of Teddy's story she'd prefer to ignore.

‘She only called to say hi.' Help, thought Teddy. She was getting herself in deeper with each word.

‘Nice!' Moira said, interested that she didn't feel any of the old jealousy about Angela. Well, the girl was 1,500 miles away. ‘It's nice some people are spontaneous, that they don't consider the telephone an instrument of doom.'

‘Yeah and generous,' Teddy said in spite of herself. She heard her voice rattling on about Angela's flight with cargo to Andover, Maine; the other girls in their squadron; her new friend Mabel; the weather in Texas. Teddy thought how unlike her this talkativeness was. She knew the others noticed and she didn't care. Talking about Angela kept her more alive, kept the telephone conversation from ending. Oh, she was glad that all those letters hadn't been wasted. She was glad Angela had got them and read them over and over again. She was glad Angela had called. She would tell Dawn on Monday. Dawn said the others would notice nothing, that they would see what they wanted to see. All straight people were like that. Teddy didn't appreciate Dawn's cynicism, especially when it applied to friends. She did feel cautious, herself, but she would not get anxious. It would be all right. Everything would be all right now that Angela was on her side. Angela was on her side, wasn't she? She hadn't said much on the telephone. ‘How's your puny little garden?' ‘I miss you sometimes.' But what could you say from a pay phone?

Teddy looked at them waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath and thought about their party discussion. ‘Have you set a date?'

Moira and Ann blinked.

Eventually Moira picked it up. ‘Oh, the party. How about the 14th? Is that fine with you?'

‘Fine,' laughed Teddy, ‘oh, fine.'

Chapter Fourteen

Spring 1943, San Francisco

POLIO EPIDEMIC SPREADS IN USA

DANISH VOTERS REJECT NATIONAL SOCIALISM

DE GAULLE AND GIRAUD HEAD FRENCH
COMMITTEE OF NATIONAL LIBERATION

MOIRA GLANCED AT RANDY'S
ruddy face
and then down at their hands as they walked from the theatre. Here they were holding hands as if nothing had happened, as if they had never separated into terrible months of silence. No, that wasn't true. They had discussed the fight and it had brought them closer. She knew that despite the differences, because they were able to overcome them, she loved Randy more. She cherished his impetuousness, his temper and his willingness to put both in tow to his passion for her. Where that came from, she didn't quite understand. Oh, she knew she was pretty and bright, but Randy Girard could have any girl in San Francisco. And he had chosen her.

‘Go for a ride?' he invited. ‘Gorgeous night.'

She looked down at her feet. Really, they should get back home. It was crazy to stay out late during the week like this. She needed to be alert at the shipyard in the morning. But he was right. The almost summery night was heavy with the fragrance of almond and cherry blossoms. And who knew how much time they had left.

‘You there, Moira?'

She smiled at his urgency. Maybe she loved him because he was the only person in the world more impatient than she. Why was she so defensive about their love tonight? It was that critical remark from Teddy. A comment that Teddy, herself, might say, ‘didn't bear thinking about.'

‘Yes,' she nodded shyly and then with more certainty. ‘Just a ride.'

‘Sure.' He squeezed closer.

They walked silently to the car, past groups of people chatting on the sidewalk. Moira noticed several clutches of sailors. San Francisco had been invaded by the American navy these past months. The city would never be the same again. Of course they were good for the economy. And Moira felt a surprising safety in their presence. She was also conscious of the bad humor in which they put Randy.

He opened the car door and she couldn't help thinking about that time last spring when she borrowed this car to see Wanda off. Now she knew they had done the right thing; Wanda had told her so. But she had been consumed with doubt all the way down to the bus depot. Lately, a vague uneasiness haunted all her decisions. Would nothing ever be certain again? Was this because of the war or because she was growing up?

Randy was lost in a cold fury as he manoeuvered through the knotted traffic on Market Street. As he attempted a left turn, a Buick full of sailors slashed out in front of their car. ‘Fuckers, god damned show-offs.' He leaned on the horn.

Moira reached over and stroked his elbow, feeling the arm grow more rigid. She sat back.

‘Sorry, Moi.' He shook his head once he was through the intersection.

‘Your brother decided?'

‘Yup, army.'

She waited, knowing his job deferment was bothering him a lot this week.

‘It's not that I don't want to go. I'm no yellow belly. It's just that, I don't know, this god damned war comes along right when I think I'm getting on my feet.' He concentrated on the traffic.

‘I know,' she said quietly.

‘And who knows what this does to us, to our plans.'

Hold on, she wanted to say, what plans?

‘What a time. You grow up in this Depression where your dad can't find work. You pull out of that, barely into manhood and the government calls you away to fight. Don't get me wrong. We have to fight this war. I just wish we were born at another time.'

‘Like our parents? Remember the First World War? Or maybe before that — the Civil War? Or how about the War of 1812?'

He couldn't help smiling. ‘You've been spending too much time around Ann and her intellectual friends.'

Her stomach sank. Did he think she was stupid? No, they were both on edge tonight.

He pulled from the main road into a gravelled drive. The tires rolled over the tiny rocks sounding like water coming to boil. She held her hands tightly together, promising herself that after a talk and a couple of kisses, they would drive home. She would get to bed early tonight.

He seemed to be continuing a conversation from earlier in the day, perhaps his talk with Boyd. ‘In the army I would see more direct action. I'd feel I was really doing something. On the other hand, Dad was in the navy and I know he'd like one of us at sea. There's something scarier about all that water, about sailing into the unknown, sort of like going to the stars. But someone has to do it.' Suddenly his voice grew less reflective. ‘You don't think I'm a chicken, taking so long to decide, do you, Moi?'

‘No, Randy, of course not. But,' she spoke in spite of herself, ‘I'm just not sure the decision is going to get any easier. It's not like there's a right choice and a wrong choice.'

‘You think I should just flip a coin and jump in?' He stared into the dark night.

‘No.' She drew closer and rubbed his arm which had lost all its tightness. ‘No, I want you to stay here as long as possible.' She thought about Uncle Willie careening to earth in his RAF plane. And Angela flying between Maine and Texas. Last night she had dreamed about Angela. Moira was grateful Randy wasn't talking about the Air Force.

‘Well, I've got to do something.'

‘Sometimes I imagine we'll wake up and hear Gabriel Heater announcing that we've won, that it's all over.'

‘Allied virtue rewarded?'

She looked at him closely, but he was not making fun.

‘Sort of.' She shrugged. Often during the last year she realized how she had taken the nuns too literally. Good versus Evil. It was such a safe world then. How did Sister Lawrence teach her morality nowadays? She felt a tired irritation with Sister, who had promised her a great deal, who had once seemed so wise and now seemed so simple.

‘It does make you appreciate the “now” more.' He put his arms around her.

‘Yes.' She rested her head on his chest. She was lucky to have him. His quickness. His love. Now.

He lifted her chin with his hand. ‘I love you, Moira.'

‘Yes, I …' She kissed him.

The heartbeats struck faster, louder and she couldn't tell whose heart it was. She drew closer along an invisible thread, closer and closer, aching to enter his skin. She knew she shouldn't allow this, that it was the girl who had to hold the line, that she needed to get up early tomorrow morning, but his tongue was in her mouth now. And now was all there was. Who knew about tomorrow morning? She sucked on his tongue and felt her breasts rise with sweet fullness. He reached inside her dress and stroked her neck with his thumb, then moved his fingers down further, exploring and stroking and stirring the sweetness higher. When he touched her nipples, she sighed unconsciously, waking herself to obligation.

‘Darling.' She tried to pull away gently. ‘I think we should stop before.'

‘All we know is before,' Randy whispered. ‘We can't count on after, Moira honey.'

‘Mmmm.' She felt herself submerge, with sadness and hunger and complete surrender. Next time she would refuse a ride in the car. But now she inhaled his warm breath and said, ‘Yes'.

Lying on the back seat
with him,
she shivered. ‘Let's close the windows.'

‘Don't worry, we'll take care of the cold in a minute.' He bit her ear and unbuttoned her blouse. Sometimes she thought she liked this part the best, the anticipation. He was so hungry for her, and this wanting awoke a hunger of her own. She reached down and stroked his stomach, his waist, his hardness. She imagined him entering her and she closed her eyes.

‘Ya know, you've really got to talk to those girls. It'd be much more comfortable in the house.'

‘Shhh.' She kissed his lips. He unzipped his pants and pulled a condom from his pocket. Had he been sure of her agreement? Or did he always carry sheaths with him? Even on Sunday morning when he went to Mass? Shh, she told herself. At least he was responsible. Lie back and enjoy him while you have him. The sadness mingled with the hunger again and she could hardly hold back the tears.

He kissed her hairline, licked her nose, nibbled at her lips and proceeded down her neck to her full, ripe breasts. Her body relaxed and she drew apart her legs. Soon he was in her, stirring deeper and deeper until she climaxed. Swiftly, he followed.

Lying next to him now, she stroked his sweaty face and licked the salt from his chest.

‘You know what one of those French sailors told me about sex?'

‘Oh, don't Randy, you'll spoil it. Save your dirty jokes for Boyd.'

‘No, no joke, really. Just that the word for “to climax” in French is “
finir
”
.
You know, “to finish”.'

‘So?' She did not want to be part of this conversation.

‘So I don't know. We say “to come”. They say “to finish”. Kind of sad. Don't know; it makes me sort of …'

‘Melancholy? Well, I guess it wasn't that good for you tonight.' She frowned and sat up, buttoning her blouse.

‘Moi, it's got nothing to do with tonight — which was great — I guess I've just been thinking odd things lately.' He dressed and helped her into the front seat.

‘I'm sorry,' she said.

‘There you go apologizing again. Always apologizing.'

‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …' She laughed.

‘I love you.'

‘Why?'

‘Why?' He sighed and humored her although he had explained a hundred times. ‘Because you're spontaneous. Because you're willing to try things. Like acting. Like typing all those silly letters for a chance at a movie part. Like leaving Los Angeles on your own. I love the fact that you take chances. I admire it.'

‘Admire?'

‘Yes, you goose.' He pulled her close. ‘I think you'd be surprised how many people admire you.'

‘What for?'

‘Well, among other things, for taking that crazy job at the shipyard. Even though I acted like a jackass. You persisted. A lot of girls wouldn't have done that.'

Teddy lay on her bed,
exhausted. She had been fighting fatigue since she got home from visiting her family. But 9 o'clock was far too early for sleeping. Maybe if she just lay here for a few moments, she would revive and then she could go scrub the bathroom or clean the linen closet. You could get little things like this done at night and feel better for them in the morning. Besides, she had to stay awake to talk with Moira and Ann about the party. If they didn't get organized, they would have to cancel it again. Moira should be home by 10. She said before she left she would make Randy bring her back on time tonight. And Ann, yes, she was off at the Forum with Rachel, so she wouldn't be too late. She had to stay awake.

Teddy held her head, thinking about Pop. He seemed to get worse after the doctor warned him about his liver. It was almost as if he had more of a thirst for defiance than for whisky. Mom was growing quieter by the day. And Jolene looked like she was about to explode. Either that or marry too early and escape the house. Teddy knew there was nothing she could do except to visit, to show them she loved them and to be available when disaster struck. Had it struck already?

Teddy opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the picture Angela had sent from Texas. There she was, all 6 foot 1 inch of her standing proud next to her airplane. She looked even taller than usual in the uniform. It was such a rich face, round and swarthy, supported by firm brows, broad cheekbones and a handsome nose. Angela joked about the nose, but Teddy thought it gave her face character. And she saw how the same nose on Mrs Bertoli lent dignity with the years. Yes, Angela was a fine looking woman; Teddy wished she thought the same about the airplane. It seemed a little rickety compared to what some people were flying … The only way to stop worrying, she reminded herself, was to practice and to change the subject.

Dawn had admired the picture.
‘She's in the life, OK. You can tell by the way she stands. By the way she's looking at you, Teddy.'

Teddy poured them each a glass of Clooney's beer. ‘Looking at me, that's silly. It's a picture.'

‘It's a picture she sent
you
. And what does it say on the other side?' Teddy read silently. ‘“To Teddy. Love, Angela.” Well, that could mean anything.'

Dawn removed her glasses and slowly wiped the lenses with a napkin. ‘Girl, you do have a dose of jitters.'

Teddy flipped over the picture
now. ‘Love, Angela.' Love Angela. She did love Angela. She loved her warmth and her drive. She loved her smartness — a practical savvy about the world — that was different from Ann's intellect or Wanda's writing talent or Moira's creativity. Well, she was a little like Moira in her brazenness. Angela would try anything.

Would she try the Quiet Cat? Of course, of course, Dawn kept reassuring her. But Teddy knew she couldn't write about such things in letters. Maybe Angela in her boldness would let something slip about a girls' bar in Texas. No, Teddy shivered, if Angela was going to girls' bars, she didn't want to know about it.

Teddy studied the picture.
She
loved her individuality, her irreverence. She loved what Moira called Angela's ‘surliness', which was actually a powerful independence.

‘Love, Angela,' she read again. Of course Dawn was right, for Angela hated to write letters and didn't Teddy have not only a letter but a picture? Love.

Teddy imagined Angela coming home and surprising her in the garden. No one else would be around. Angela would just walk in through the gate and throw her arms around her. Teddy would say, ‘Oh, not here, Angela'. Angela would take her by the hand into the kitchen where she would hold Teddy tight and smother her with … No, no, Angela would pretend to sulk and Teddy would lead Angela into the house. Maybe she would take her upstairs. Yes, that was it. She would take Angela up to see how she had painted her room. Angela's picture would be by the bed. Angela would be overcome with emotion and … No, no, she couldn't have Angela's picture by the bed because the other girls would notice. She could have it displayed with pictures of her family, but that would spoil the effect. Maybe she would lead Angela directly over to the bed — for there was no other place to sit comfortably in the room — and leaning on the pillow, she would inch it to one side, revealing underneath a photo of a handsome woman with her flying machine. Once on the bed, of course …