And he felt again the way he’d felt that night long ago in Club Beguine, when she’d been in his arms, when the sky was a challenge to their youth, when the strength of youth had rushed through his body. He felt this same surge of emotion now, an emotion almost too painfully sweet to bear, a feeling of wanting to hold her where she was forever, of wanting to protect her, and love her, love her...
His fingers were gentle on the buttons at the neck of her dress, hesitant fingers, surprisingly tender, boyish. He unbuttoned the dress to her waist, and his hands lingered on the nylon net of her brassiere for just an instant, and then she helped him with the zipper on the side of her dress, arching her back toward him.
The record player was very loud in the stillness of the room.
“Skylark,” it sang,
“I don’t know if you can
find these things,
but my heart is riding
on your wings...”
He did not see her for the next few weeks. He was very busy, as he knew he would be, with the Fall Ball, and his time was really not his own. They called each other frequently, though, spending hours on the telephone, getting to know each other again, looking forward to November eighth, when they would see each other again.
She called on November sixth.
She said, “Bud, this is Helen.” Her voice sounded curiously distant.
“Oh, hi. I was just thin—”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Bud. I wish I didn’t have—”
“What is it, Helen?”
He heard her catch her breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
27
sock chorus, iii
NOVEMBER-DECEMBER, 1946
The Fall Ball was in full swing inside. They could hear the music sifting through the banks of windows and passing through the russet leaves on the trees around them. They sat in a darkened corner of the stone steps in front of the building, and they heard the laughter and music inside, and they spoke in hushed whispers. Helen’s hands were thrust deep into the slash pockets of her coat, and her collar was high on her neck. The stubs of six half-smoked cigarettes rested at her feet. She kept staring at the ground, listening to Bud, but not looking at him.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”
“Well” — he paused — “what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. Did you mean what you said?”
“About what?”
“That you loved me?”
“Yes. You know that, Helen.”
“Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to marry me?”
“I want to marry you, Helen. Yes, I want to. But not now, and not... not this way. Unless you want to. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“What... what else can we do?”
“You can take some pills.”
“Oh.”
“Well, you can.”
“I know. What good will pills do?”
“We can go skiing and sledding and things like that. We can try to... to do away with it.”
“Stop calling it ‘it.’ You make it sound like some monster or something.”
“What do you want me to call it? Buddy, Jr.? Helen, be sensible.”
“I’m trying to be sensible. You’re not helping very much.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Is marriage out of the question?”
“I’m a Freshman, Helen, and I haven’t got a pot to...” He paused. “If you want me to marry you, I will.” He paused again. “It’s just... I... I haven’t anything to give you.”
“You can give me love,” she said.
“You can’t eat love.”
“I can work. After the baby comes, I can work.”
“I... I don’t think that’s the solution, Helen. Please try to understand me, honey. I... I just don’t think something like this would work. We’d always be... be wondering if we’d have got married if... if we weren’t forced into it. I... I don’t like the thought of being forced into it.”
“You don’t want to marry me, is that it?”
“I didn’t say...”
She looked up at his face and into his eyes. “I wouldn’t force you into anything, Buddy. You know that.”
“This isn’t the right way, can you see that, Helen? This is starting with two strikes against us.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Helen said. “Will you get the pills for me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you know where to get them?”
He swallowed. “No, I don’t.”
“Do they exist, these pills of yours?”
“Why, sure they do.”
“I’ve heard of pills to bring you on if you’re late — but there isn’t anything to bring you on if you’re pregnant. You know I’m pregnant, don’t you, Bud? I hate to use that word because it has such an ugly sound, but I am pregnant, there’s no question about that, the doctor told me—”
“I know you’re pregnant, Helen. What are we talking about if not the fact that you’re pregnant?”
“You can speak a little more quietly. I don’t want your whole faculty to know about it.”
“No one can hear us.”
They were silent for a long time. The music seeped out onto the campus, mingled with the rush of the wind and the rustling leaves. A campus lamppost captured their shadows and hurled them onto the steps.
“Will you try to get the pills for me?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Suppose the pills don’t work?”
“Well, we can do other things. Strenuous things. It shouldn’t be too difficult to—”
“And if these... strenuous things don’t work? What then?”
“Well...”
“Are we discounting the possibility of having the baby?”
He waited several moments before answering. “I... I don’t think marriage would be a good idea.”
“I didn’t mean marriage. I meant having it and making some arrangement for its adoption. That’s done, you know. It wouldn’t—”
“It sounds... awfully involved, Helen... I don’t think we should get so... so involved.”
“I see.” She paused. “I just wanted to know where I stood, Bud.”
“You understand...”