Where Love Has Gone (27 page)

He got up and went over to the kitchen door and came back with two more cups of coffee. “Where’s the kid now?”

“In psych. Maybe Jennings can get to her today.”

“Sally Jennings is good. If she can’t get her to open up, nobody can.”

“I hope so. Meanwhile I’ve got to get started on my legwork. Judge Murphy wants me to look at the transcript of the parents’ divorce action. I’m going down to their lawyer’s office to pick it up.”

Marian pushed her chair back. “How’s Anita, and the boys?”

“The same as usual. Anita wants to get a part-time job to help out with the money, but I told her over my dead body. I see too much of what happens to kids whose parents have part-time jobs.”

She nodded sympathetically. There were times she wondered how some of the men who were married managed on their salaries. She could understand why Red’s shoes were always at least two months in need of repair.

He sighed. “Stevie, that’s the oldest, is bugging us for a scooter. He says all the kids in school have them.”

“Are you going to get him one?”

“If I can find a good used one for fifty bucks.” He looked down at the table. “I guess I’m just kiddin’ myself. There aren’t any around for that kind of money.”

“Maybe you’ll be lucky, Red.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed. But sometimes it frightens me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stevie’s a good kid and all that, but I keep thinking about all the things he has to make do without. You know what I mean. Maybe it’s no good to know so much.”

She nodded.

“I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night,” he said, “dreaming that I’m on desk duty and they bring in a kid and it’s Stevie. Then when I ask him why, he says to me: What did you expect, Pop? For me to go on forever believing that the moon is made of green cheese?”

She stared at him for a moment. That was the trouble with all of them. They saw too much and they felt too much. She put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a long hot day. Why don’t you take off for the rest of the afternoon and go home?”

He reached up and patted her hand gratefully.

“What for?” he asked with a grin. “And worry Anita half to death that I’m sick or something?”

6

__________________________________________

The framed diploma on the wall behind the tiny cluttered desk in the equally tiny glass cubicle was an

M.A. in psychology from the University of Wisconsin. The name on the diploma in flowing gothic script was Sally Jennings. The date was June 1954.

Sally Jennings was thirty-eight when she received that diploma. Behind it lay fifteen years as a probation officer, while she studied and saved toward her goal. When all the money had been carefully accumulated she took a leave of absence for two years and came back with the diploma. It had been another two years before there was a vacancy in her present department.

She had a youthful face, graying hair, a quiet, pleasant manner and a real feeling for the children that came to her. Most of the times they felt this and responded to her. Once in a while, there was one who escaped her intangible pull. This was one of those times.

She looked across the desk at Dani. The child sat silently, her face composed, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Sally had noted the other day that the child had neatly manicured fingernails. The control was there all right. She reached for a cigarette and noticed the child’s eyes following her hand.

“Would you care for a cigarette, Dani?” she asked politely, extending the pack. Dani hesitated.

“It’s all right, Dani. You can smoke in here.”

Dani took a cigarette and a light. “Thank you, Miss Jennings.”

The psychologist lit her own cigarette and leaned back in her chair. She let the smoke out slowly and watched it drift idly toward the ceiling. “I like to watch the smoke drift up,” she said casually. “It’s like tiny clouds in the sky taking on all kinds of forms and shapes.”

“We had a game like that the girls played at Miss Randolph’s School. We called it Instant Rorschach.” Sally Jennings glanced at Dani. There was a faint trace of amusement in the child’s eyes. “You’d be surprised at what some of the girls saw. Some of it was pretty far out.”

“You know a great deal about psychology for one so young.”

“I read a lot about it. One time I thought I’d like to be one but I changed my mind.” “Why was that, Dani? I imagine you might be very good at it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was that I didn’t like the idea of prying into people’s minds. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t like prying, period.”

“Do you think I’m prying, Dani?”

Dani looked at her. “That’s your job, isn’t it?” she asked bluntly. “To see what makes me tick?”

“That’s only a part of it, Dani. The smallest part. The main thing is to see if we can find a way to help you.”

“What if I don’t want help?”

“I think we all do in one way or another, whether we admit it to ourselves or not.” “Do you need help?” Dani asked.

“I think I do. There are times when I feel very helpless.” “Do you go to a psychologist then?”

Sally Jennings nodded. “I’ve been in analysis for the past few years. Ever since I realized I had to know more about myself before I could do my job properly.”

“How often do you go?”

“At least once a week. Sometimes more, when I have the time.”

“Mother says that the only people who go to analysts are sick. She says it’s a substitute for the Roman Catholic confessional.”

Sally Jennings glanced at Dani. “Is your mother right about everything?” Dani looked at her without answering.

The psychologist could see the wall rising in the child’s eyes. She changed the subject quickly. “The doctor who examined you told me you complained that your breasts hurt. Have they been hurting for a long time?”

Dani nodded silently. “For how long?” Dani hesitated.

“That certainly isn’t prying into your mind. That’s a medical question.” “Is there anything wrong?” Dani asked, quick concern in her voice.

Sally watched the child’s hands go involuntarily to her bosom and felt a twinge of conscience at having reawakened the child’s fear. “No, there nothing wrong. It’s just that doctors like to know the reasons for everything.”

“When I first began to develop, I used to bind my breasts. Then they began to hurt me so I stopped doing it. They’ve hurt on and off ever since.”

Sally laughed. “Why did you ever do a thing like that? It’s kind of old-fashioned. Girls haven’t done that for years.”

“I heard my mother telling a friend of hers about it. She said the geishas in Japan do it to look young and keep from growing up.”

“Didn’t you want to grow up, Dani?” “Of course I did,” Dani said quickly.

“Then why did you do it?” Sally repeated. The child didn’t answer. “Was it because you thought it would please your mother?”

She saw the truth of her guess reflected in the child’s suddenly wide eyes. She hardened her heart and kept on talking. “That’s the reason, isn’t it, Dani? You bound your breasts until they hurt because you thought it would please your mother if you could keep from growing up? Why did you think that, Dani? Did your mother ever tell you that you made her feel old because you were growing up?”

Suddenly the child was crying, her face hidden in her hands.

Gently the psychologist took the cigarette from Dani’s fingers and ground it out in the ashtray. “Most mothers don’t really want their children to grow up, Dani. They like to keep them young because it makes them feel more important, more useful, younger themselves.”

“My mother loves me,” Dani sobbed between her fingers. “My mother loves me.”

“Of course she does, Dani. But love alone doesn’t keep a mother from making mistakes sometimes.”

The child looked up, the tears shining bright in her eyes. “I—I don’t want to talk anymore, Miss Jennings. May I go back to my room?”

Sally studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, Dani,” she said, pressing a button on her desk for a matron. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Through the glass-paneled walls of her office, she watched Dani go down the corridor. She sighed wearily. It had been a long day. A little progress had been made. Maybe tomorrow she would make more.

The sound of the music from the television set came to her small room through the closed door. Unconsciously Dani’s feet began to pick up the beat. After a few minutes she surrendered to its pull and opened the door and went out into the corridor. The music was louder there and she followed it into the large recreation room where the girls were gathered in front of the television set.

The music stopped and the smooth, unlined face of Dick Clark filled the screen. His voice flowed effortlessly from the speaker. “Welcome to the American Bandstand. And to get today’s session off to a flying start, our first record will be the one and only Chubby Checkers singing his immortal ‘Let’s Twist Again!’”

Dani stood watching, enraptured, as the camera pulled back to reveal the crowded dance floor. Most of the boys wore sports jackets and the girls were equally casual. There was a moment’s silence as they stood there expectantly, then the sound of the record blared from the speaker. The hoarse rhythmic chant of the singer filled the room.

Let’s twist again—

Lak’ we did last sum-muh—

Let’s twist a-gain— La’ we did last ye-uh.

Several of the girls paired off and began to dance in front of the TV set. From the far side of the room, a matron watched, her feet also keeping the beat.

“Do you twist, Dani?”

Dani turned. It was the girl who sat next to her at mealtime. She nodded. “Yes, Sylvia.” The girl smiled. “Then how about showin’ them?”

Dani smiled back. “I’m with you.”

The two girls assumed round-shouldered postures and stolid faces as they picked up the rhythm. As they gyrated back and forth, seemingly glued to one spot on the floor, they never once looked into each other’s faces. Each focused her eyes at about the level of her partner’s knees.

After a few moments’ silence, during which each probed the other’s proficiency in the dance, they began to talk. “You’re good,” Sylvia said.

“Not as good as you are, though.”

“I love to dance,” Sylvia said. “That’s what I’m goin’ to be. A pro.” “You could be a pro right now.”

Sylvia smiled proudly. She was slightly taller than Dani, about a year older, with almost blond brown hair and blue eyes. “Let’s try a few variations.”

“Okay.”

“Hully-Gully.”

Dani grinned and followed her into the steps.

“Now the Madison.” Sylvia spun out and Dani circled around her, then Dani spun out while Sylvia circled around her.

Sylvia laughed aloud. “Now we’ll kill ’em with the Watusi!”

The almost primitive steps of a jungle dance came to life as she postured in time to the music. Dani followed as the music crescendoed and crashed, the last wail of the singer fading with the sound.

The two girls stood there breathing heavily, looking at each other. “Like it’s too much,” Sylvia

said.

“All go,” Dani answered.

The music came on again. Sylvia looked at Dani. “Try another?”

Dani shook her head. “Cigarettes got my wind. I’ll stay on the launch pad for this one.” Sylvia smiled. “I’ve got an extra dime for a Coke. I’ll split.”

“Thanks.” Dani could have bought one of her own but that wouldn’t be polite. She’d buy the next

one.

Sylvia walked over to the machine and picked up a Coke. There were some straws on a nearby

table. She stuck two in the bottle and came back. “Let’s sit over here.”

They sat down where they could watch the television screen and sipped at their Cokes. A commercial came on and their eyes followed it with even greater attention than they’d paid to the program itself.

“That chewing gum commercial is the end.”

Dick Clark came back on and then the music. Sylvia turned to Dani. “You go to the head- shrinker’s again today?”

Dani nodded.

“Who’d you draw? Jennings?” “Yes.”

“She’s not so bad, you can go with her. But that old man who’s the boss. He’s like ‘Thriller’ when he looks at you with those fish eyes.”

“I don’t know him,” Dani said.

They watched the dancers on the screen for a few moments. The camera moved in close on a dancing couple. The boy was tall and handsome, his hair peaked and dipped in the latest style. The girl wore a loose sweater and skirt. They became aware that the camera was on them and put on a little show.

“That boy books real smooth. He reminds me of my boyfriend.” “He looks a little like Fabian,” Dani said.

“My boyfriend is a dead ringer for Fabian,” Sylvia said proudly. “That’s what got me in the first place. I think Fabian’s the greatest.”

“I like Rickie and Frankie Avalon better. They can sing rings around him.”

“So can Elvis. But I’m not talking about their voices. Fabian’s got it. All he has to do is look at me and I’m all cream.” She looked at Dani. “You got a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You had one?”

Dani shook her head. “Not really. Not a steady.” “Wasn’t that guy your boyfriend?” The one—” Dani shook her head.

“I thought he was,” Sylvia said. “Because they put you over here with us. They keep the cherries in another cottage. You mean it was someone else?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sylvia leaned back against her chair. “I miss my boyfriend.”

“Where is he?”

Sylvia jerked her thumb toward the windows. “Over in the boys’ cottage.” “What’s he doing over there?”

“They brought us in together,” Sylvia said. “Richie borrowed a car for us to take a ride in. Then we went up to Golden Gate Park. The cops picked us up there.”

“I don’t get it. Why should they bother you?”

Sylvia laughed. “Don’t be real cute. I told you Richie borrowed the car. Besides it was two in the morning and we were in the backseat doing you know what.” She finished the last of the Coke. “Man, it was real dreamy, you know what I mean?” She sighed. “The top down on the convertible, the moon, music from the car radio. We were just making it into orbit when the Untouchables came on. Then it was a real mess.”