Marilyn left her lunch with Victor Salarino relieved and excited about the summer.
She also felt uneasy.
“What I am doing is, simply, deceptive,” she wrote in her journal. “It is obvious that my parents do not approve of my having anything to do with Victor, and though I haven’t exactly promised them that I wouldn’t see him again, they are certainly under the assumption that I am taking the train home and leaving Victor in New York.”
“Instead,” she paused, taking time to doodle a long ellipsis at the bottom of the page, each circle darkened with thought.
She also felt uneasy.
“What I am doing is, simply, deceptive,” she wrote in her journal. “It is obvious that my parents do not approve of my having anything to do with Victor, and though I haven’t exactly promised them that I wouldn’t see him again, they are certainly under the assumption that I am taking the train home and leaving Victor in New York.”
“Instead,” she paused, taking time to doodle a long ellipsis at the bottom of the page, each circle darkened with thought.
***
Alice was thrilled to welcome her friend to her family’s summer home, and she wrote to Marilyn, asking her to join her in two weeks. Marilyn’s parents had sent her to Coulter Point with Alice a couple of times before, and had no problem with her summer plans. That left just ten days that Marilyn had to endure being at home.
Surprisingly, they weren’t terrible. Marilyn’s father didn’t bring up the subject at all, and her mother left her alone for the most part. She had a habit of alluding to the incident on the sailboat in subtle ways, which Marilyn found annoying, but there was nothing to do but wait. By the end of the month, she would be at Coulter Point, away from Confluence and away from her parents, and there she would be free to see Victor as many times as he cared to make the trip.
The point was a lengthy trip away from New York, which somewhat concerned Marilyn, but Victor had promised at least one weekend with her. Her heart raced every time she thought about it.
There was an incident at church, though, that added credibility to her parents’ anger. Pastor Roberts ended the service with the traditional time for announcements. Helen Daugherty stood up to announce that the Confluence Women’s Club was looking forward to extending invitations to several young women this summer to join the club for a reception and begin the year-long process toward membership. And then, she went on to read a list out loud that included all of Marilyn’s classmates—but not Marilyn Coolidge.
As they left the receiving line afterward, Marilyn’s mother approached Helen.
“Why, Mrs. Coolidge,” she smiled. “Good afternoon.”
“Helen, dear, it seems you’ve made an omission on your list of young ladies to invite to the club.”
Marilyn wanted to shrink away, but her mother had firmly taken hold of her wrist.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Helen said.
“You know right well what I mean, Mrs. Daugherty.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “Mrs. Coolidge,” Helen said quietly, her eyes looking away from Marilyn and her mother, “our club is selective. We are a small group. We can only accommodate so many new members every year, and there were several young women who did not receive invitations.”
“Mrs. Daugherty, I would normally have thought this list and your reading it in front of God and everybody was a simple act of error, but given your willful ignorance on this subject, I can only assume you are acting in a very distasteful way. Marilyn deserves an invitation.”
“I cannot,” Helen replied firmly, her voice even quieter. “We have strict standards of character for our members, Mrs. Coolidge. You of all people should know that—you wrote our Code of Matronly Conduct, after all.”
Marilyn and her mother walked home from church in silence. Once they were inside, she spoke up. “Thank you,” she said, touching her mother’s arm. “You were awfully kind to have defended me.”
Her mother’s lips drew tight. “I shouldn’t have had to in the first place.”
But that was all; Marilyn’s mother retreated to her bedroom to change for lunch, and when they took their meal, nothing more of the matter was said.
“My home no longer feels like home,” Marilyn later wrote in her journal. “And that worries me. A person needs a place to go where everything feels all right, where she feels safe and well. This town doesn’t seem to recognize me anymore, and I don’t feel like I know it either.”
Two days later, Mr. Coolidge packed his daughter’s suitcases into the car and drove her down to Coulter Point.
“Helen, dear, it seems you’ve made an omission on your list of young ladies to invite to the club.”
Marilyn wanted to shrink away, but her mother had firmly taken hold of her wrist.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Helen said.
“You know right well what I mean, Mrs. Daugherty.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “Mrs. Coolidge,” Helen said quietly, her eyes looking away from Marilyn and her mother, “our club is selective. We are a small group. We can only accommodate so many new members every year, and there were several young women who did not receive invitations.”
“Mrs. Daugherty, I would normally have thought this list and your reading it in front of God and everybody was a simple act of error, but given your willful ignorance on this subject, I can only assume you are acting in a very distasteful way. Marilyn deserves an invitation.”
“I cannot,” Helen replied firmly, her voice even quieter. “We have strict standards of character for our members, Mrs. Coolidge. You of all people should know that—you wrote our Code of Matronly Conduct, after all.”
Marilyn and her mother walked home from church in silence. Once they were inside, she spoke up. “Thank you,” she said, touching her mother’s arm. “You were awfully kind to have defended me.”
Her mother’s lips drew tight. “I shouldn’t have had to in the first place.”
But that was all; Marilyn’s mother retreated to her bedroom to change for lunch, and when they took their meal, nothing more of the matter was said.
“My home no longer feels like home,” Marilyn later wrote in her journal. “And that worries me. A person needs a place to go where everything feels all right, where she feels safe and well. This town doesn’t seem to recognize me anymore, and I don’t feel like I know it either.”
Two days later, Mr. Coolidge packed his daughter’s suitcases into the car and drove her down to Coulter Point.
No comments:
Post a Comment