God knew what time it was when they pulled up next to the church, maybe even two? Tom kissed her tenderly, Marie, I love you, I love you. She smiled at him and asked him to say it again like some high school girl with a crush when she saw a light slide across Tom’s shoulders and across the dashboard. Come up here! Come up here right now, goddammit to hell! My God, it was Poppa! She looked over at Tom in terror and he was smiling at her, bitter and angry and surprised. You pup! You take my daughter for a tramp? Come up, here, Skip! One-thirty in the morning! Suddenly Marie felt her stomach turn and she thought she’d throw up and put her handkerchief to her mouth and swallowed and swallowed. Tom bent and kissed her temple and forehead, Do you want me to come up with you, take the bull by the horns and get this out in the open? Oh no, Marie didn’t want that, he didn’t know Poppa, when he was like this … He had forbade her to even go, and what she’d done … a light was on in the house, Mr. Copan was looking out the window, she heard the porch door open and somebody came out, the flashlight was shining steadily on the car now and Poppa was still yelling. She adjusted her skirts and checked her buttons and got out, holding Tom’s hand tightly as she stepped into the beam of light, looking at his face, My God, Tom, and he squeezed her hand tight. She must look like death warmed over, she even felt pale, felt as if somebody had walked in on her while she was on the toilet. She began to cry, hurrying to the porch, quickly past somebody there, damn busybody, damn damn rotten … weeping silently till she was on the stairs, then sobbing out once, loudly, but then she controlled herself, rushing up the stairs, past Poppa’s room, God! and Billy’s! He woke up Billy! In her room she lay down on the bed with all her clothes on and wept for an hour, forever, humiliated and wretched. How could she ever even talk to Tom again? How could he? He wouldn’t even want to look at her. It was cruel and mean and rotten, she hated her father as much as she had ever hated her mother. You should have, Tom, she whispered, turning over, pushing her face into the bedspread, sobbing again, You should have made me do it. Made me fuck and fuck you. Oh, God, forgive me, what will I do?
~ ~ ~
When Marie heard Billy at the door, she put the letter Tom had left for her the night before under her pillow. She had read it at least a dozen times — it had no reality but it was his, his. Everything that had happened since that awful scene existed in a haze. Her father yelling! Shining a light on her! She couldn’t believe that Tom had left, either, but he had. Standing at his car, ready to go, he had whispered that he loved her and would move heaven and earth to see her — he had his ways, he said, and then she watched his white smile and for a minute felt safe, thought that maybe her life would continue. When they shook hands she almost began to cry, she wanted him to do anything he wanted, take her, force her into the car and take her away. She was ashamed and angry with herself for not letting him Saturday, she wanted to turn back the clock and be there again with him in the car, take off every stitch of clothes and let him see her.
The night before, she had awakened at three in the morning to a slight whispering sound, and turned the lamp on to see an envelope on the floor just inside the door. She had read his letter, crying, again, oh God, again crying, crushed by loathing for her life, for her father, mean, mean as her mother. Worse.
My dearest Marie, darling,
I’m writing this note because tomorrow I’m going to leave and go back to the city. Don’t worry, I’ll make up some good excuse about business, I don’t want to look like I’m running away and add fuel to the fire, they’d all love that. Believe you me my dearest, it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my whole life but I cannot see my way clear to staying another week in this atmosphere, I know it would make your life Hell on earth. I know how mortified you were last night and I still really can’t believe what happened, last night. And I don’t want to say anything disrespectful about your father but between you and me it was a very mean thing to do the way everybody lives here like people in a goldfish bowl. And when I saw your sweet beautiful face this morning at breakfast so sad and I could tell you were crying all night I knew then and there staying here would make everything harder all around, so it is the best thing for me to go and not give the relics fuel for their gossip, they have got plenty already.
Trust me my dear, that I will come and see you in the city by hook or by crook. What I feel about you ever since the minute I laid eyes on you won’t be forgotten, I am not one of your out of sight out of mind sort of men. Just because Fall comes does not mean that I will not think of you, always. I did not have a chance to tell you on Saturday night but, you have given me back a real sense of manhood that I have not had since long before my wife walked out on me. I cannot imagine anything more beautiful than to go on with our beautiful friendship back in the city, this Fall. Maybe your father will cool off a little back in the city and be willing to talk to me man to man and look me straight in the eye instead of treating me like something the cat dragged in and to wipe his feet on me. It might just be that way when he is not seeing Helga Schmidt every day. She sure put a bee in your father’s bonnet about me although, I cannot prove it. And I think she has her own reasons for shining up to him this way but I’ll let sleeping dogs lie if you know what I mean and I am sure you do. Anyhow, I would like to prove to him that I am not the wisenheimer he thinks I am and that I have your best interests in my heart.