“I haven’t seen you for two days.”
“I’ve been busy,” Jessie said, looking down at the floor as if she were talking to it and not Virginia. “My mother took me swimming this afternoon. To see if the salt water would hurt my hands.”
“And did it?”
“Not much.”
Virginia sat down on the davenport beside her. “You know what I did this afternoon? I went downtown shopping.”
“Did you buy something?”
“Yes.”
“Was Howard with you to pay for it?”
Virginia sucked in her breath as though the question had knocked it out of her. “No, no, he wasn’t. I paid for it myself.”
“But the other night he said—”
“The other night he said a lot of things he didn’t mean. He was tired and out of sorts. We all get like that sometimes, don’t we?”
“Yes, sometimes.”
“When two people are married, they share whatever money comes into the house, whether it’s the man’s salary or the woman’s or both. If I see something I want and can afford, I buy it. I don’t need Howard’s permission.” But it helps, she added bitterly to herself. He likes to play Big Daddy, spoiling his foolish and extravagant little girl, as long as the little girl is duly appreciative.
Jessie was considering the subject, her mouth pursed, her green eyes narrowed. “I guess Howard gives you lots of money, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Every month my daddy gives money to the bank for this house. In nineteen more years we’re going to own it. When is Howard going to own you?”
“Never,” Virginia said sharply. Then, seeing Jessie’s look of bewilderment, she added in a softer voice, “Look, dear, I’m not a house. Howard isn’t making payments on me.”
“Then why does he give you money?”
“He doesn’t exactly give it to me. We share it. If Howard didn’t have me to look after the house for him, he’d have to hire someone else to perform the same services for him.”
“If he hires you, that makes him the boss.”
“No. I mean — how on earth did we get off on this subject? You’re too young to understand.”
“Will I understand when I’m older?”
“Yes,” Virginia said, thinking, I hope you never grow up to understand what I do. I hope you die before your innocence is torn away from you.
Jessie was frowning and biting the nail of her left thumb. “I certainly have tons of stuff to learn when I grow up. I wish I could start right now.”
“No. No, don’t wish that. Stay the way you are, Jessie. Just stay, stay like this, like tonight.”
“I can’t,” Jessie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Mary Martha would get way ahead of me. She’s already taller and spells better. Mary Martha knows a lot.”
“Some of them are things I couldn’t bear having you know, Jessie.”
“Why not? They’re not bad, they don’t hurt her.”
“They hurt. I see her hurting.”
Jessie shook her head. “No. If she was hurting, she’d cry. She’s an awful sissy sometimes, she can’t stand the sight of blood or anything oozing.”
“Do you ever see me cry, Jessie?”
“No.”
“Well, I hurt. I hurt terribly.”
“Because of your sunburn?”
Virginia hesitated a moment, then she laughed, the harsh, brief laugh she heard herself utter so often lately. It was like the distress signal of an animal that couldn’t communicate in words. “Yes, of course. Because of my sunburn. I must be as big a sissy as Mary Martha.”
“She’s not a sissy about everything.”
“Perhaps I’m not either, about everything. I don’t know. Not everything’s been tried on me yet. Not quite.”
Jessie would have liked to ask what had or had not been tried, but Virginia had averted her face and was changing the subject, not very subtly or completely, by opening her purse. It was a pink silk pouch that matched her dress. Inside the pouch was a tiny box wrapped in white paper and tied with a miniature golden rope.
Jessie saw the box and immediately and deliberately turned her head away. “Your shoes are dirty.”
“I stepped off the path. Jessie, I have a little pres—”
“You’re not supposed to step off the path.”
Virginia’s face was becoming white even where she was sunburned, on her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, as though whiteness was not a draining away of blood but a true pigmentation that could conceal other colors. “Jessie, dear, you’re not paying attention to what I’m telling you. I said, I have a little present for you. It’s something I’m sure you’ll love.”
“No, I won’t. I won’t love it.”
“But you don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t want it, is that it?”
“No.”
“You won’t... won’t even open it?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad,” Virginia said slowly. “It’s very pretty. I used to have one exactly like it when I was a little girl and I was so proud of it. It made me feel grown-up.”
“I don’t want to feel grown-up anymore.”
“Oh, you’re quite right, of course. You’re really very sensible. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t choose to grow up either. To live the happy years and die young—”
“I’m going to watch television.” Jessie’s lower lip was quivering. She had to catch it with her teeth to hold it still so that Virginia wouldn’t see how frightened she was. She wasn’t sure what had caused the sudden, overwhelming fear but she realized that she had to fight it, with any weapon at all that she could find. “My... my mother doesn’t like you.”
Virginia didn’t look surprised, her eyes were merely soft and full of sadness. “I’m sorry to hear that because I like her.”
“You’re not supposed to like someone who doesn’t like you.”
“Really? Well, I guess I do a lot of things I’m not supposed to. I step off paths and get my shoes dirty, I buy presents for little girls — Perhaps some day I’ll learn better.”
“I’m going to watch television,” Jessie repeated stubbornly. “I want to see the ending of the program.”
“Go ahead.”
“You turned it off. When company turns it off my mother makes me keep it that way.”
“Turn it on again. I’m not company.”
Awkwardly, Jessie unfolded her arms and legs and went over to the television set. Her head felt heavy with what she didn’t yet recognize as grief: something was lost, a time had passed, a loved one was gone. “You... you could watch the ending with me, Aunt Virginia.”
“Perhaps I will. That’s the nice part about television programs, they start with a beginning and end with an ending. Other things don’t. You find yourself in the middle and you don’t know how you got there or how to get out. It’s like waking up in the middle of a water tank with steep, slippery sides. You just keep swimming around and around, there’s no ladder to climb out, nobody flings you a rope, and you can’t stop swimming because you have this animal urge to survive... No television program is ever like that, is it, Jessie?”
“No, because it has to end to make room for another program. Nobody can be left just swimming around.”
“How would it end on television, Jessie?”
Jessie hesitated only long enough to take a deep breath. “A dog would find you and start barking and attract a lot of people. They’d tie all their jackets and sweaters and things together to make a rope and they’d throw it to you and lift you out. Then you’d hug the dog and he’d lick your face.”
“Thanks for nothing, dog,” Virginia said and got up and went over to the doorway. “I’ll see you later.”
“Aren’t you going to stay for the ending?”