aftermath, He closed his eyes. We held each other and soon, we fell asleep.
Grandmother Beverly's screams shattered our dreams. She was in the attic doorway, grimacing with revulsion, her eyes big, her mouth twisted.
"What depraved and despicable thing are you doing?" she cried. Clarence trembled as if the house itself was shaking.
"Get out!" I screamed back at her. "This is my private place. Get out!"
"I knew it! I knew when I didn't hear a sound that you were wallowing in sin. Disgusting-- and in your own home, right above my head,"
I leaped up from the settee, forgetting my nudity, and closed the attic door in her face.
Clarence was rushing to get dressed.
"Oh wow, sorry," he said. "I'd better go. I fell asleep. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. She had no right to spy on us." I started to dress,
"You going to be all right?" he asked when he got his shoes on and reached for his jacket.
"I'll be peachy keen as always. Don't worry about it. Clarence. This is a glass house. The people in it can't throw stones."
He nodded and reached for the doorknob. I Mess I couldn't blame him for being terrified. I hurriedly completed my own dressing and walked him down to the front entrance. Then I stepped outside. It had started to rain so we remained under the portico.
"I'll meet you at the lockers in the morning." "Yes."
He kissed me quickly.
"Night," he said.
"Good night. Clarence. Clarence," I called when he stepped down. He turned.
"Yes?"
"You made a wonderful Captain Arnold."
He smiled and shrugged.
"Maybe I should go out for the play, too."
"Maybe," I said and watched him get into his car and drive away.
Then I turned and reentered the house. Grandmother Beverly was standing in the shadows. She stepped into the light so that the glow of the chandelier washed the darkness off her face. It glowed like ivory, her eves twirling with anger.
"Your father will hear of this," she promised.
"Yes," I said. "and when you tell him, ask him what's worse, what I did or what he did? Ask him if adultery is worse," I threw back at her.
She raised her hands to the base of her throat.
"That's... a lie, but even so," she added quickly. "you're still a minor and..."
"I'm not a child. Grandmother. A hundred years ago, women were married and had children by my age. I'm a woman and what makes me age is not time. What makes me age is what the so-called adults around me do, to me, in spite of me. They won't let us be children. They kill the child in us quickly and then they ask us to be grownups like they are.
"I'd rather live in my attic," I spat and left her still mostly in the shadows, glaring out at me like some owl in the darkness waiting for easier prey.
I sprawled on my bed and gazed up at the ceiling until I felt my heart slow and my body calm down. Then I reached for the script Miss Hamilton had given me. It was a play entitled Death Takes a Holiday . I was familiar with the story. It was one of Mommy's favorites, actually.
A young woman is courted by a handsome man who turns out to be Death on holiday and when it's time for him to leave, he tells her who he is and she reveals she always knew and she's still willing to go with him.
Romantic slop?
Maybe.
But at the moment. I would gladly put my hand into his and run off. I could do this part well. I thought.
I could do it so well. I'd frighten myself.
6 Seizing the Stage
Grandmother Beverly didn't tell Daddy about Clarence and me. She had a better way and a far more effective place to snap her punitive whip. Now it was Clarence's turn to be called out of class, only for him it was to meet with his father. Because Clarence didn't return for his afternoon classes. I didn't find out about it until I returned from visiting with Mommy. Instinctively, I knew something terrible was going on. Every time I thought about him, about our teacher calling out his name and telling him to report to the office, I felt my heart thump along like a flat tire.
When I drove into the clinic parking lot and
Grandmother Beverly's screams shattered our dreams. She was in the attic doorway, grimacing with revulsion, her eyes big, her mouth twisted.
"What depraved and despicable thing are you doing?" she cried. Clarence trembled as if the house itself was shaking.
"Get out!" I screamed back at her. "This is my private place. Get out!"
"I knew it! I knew when I didn't hear a sound that you were wallowing in sin. Disgusting-- and in your own home, right above my head,"
I leaped up from the settee, forgetting my nudity, and closed the attic door in her face.
Clarence was rushing to get dressed.
"Oh wow, sorry," he said. "I'd better go. I fell asleep. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. She had no right to spy on us." I started to dress,
"You going to be all right?" he asked when he got his shoes on and reached for his jacket.
"I'll be peachy keen as always. Don't worry about it. Clarence. This is a glass house. The people in it can't throw stones."
He nodded and reached for the doorknob. I Mess I couldn't blame him for being terrified. I hurriedly completed my own dressing and walked him down to the front entrance. Then I stepped outside. It had started to rain so we remained under the portico.
"I'll meet you at the lockers in the morning." "Yes."
He kissed me quickly.
"Night," he said.
"Good night. Clarence. Clarence," I called when he stepped down. He turned.
"Yes?"
"You made a wonderful Captain Arnold."
He smiled and shrugged.
"Maybe I should go out for the play, too."
"Maybe," I said and watched him get into his car and drive away.
Then I turned and reentered the house. Grandmother Beverly was standing in the shadows. She stepped into the light so that the glow of the chandelier washed the darkness off her face. It glowed like ivory, her eves twirling with anger.
"Your father will hear of this," she promised.
"Yes," I said. "and when you tell him, ask him what's worse, what I did or what he did? Ask him if adultery is worse," I threw back at her.
She raised her hands to the base of her throat.
"That's... a lie, but even so," she added quickly. "you're still a minor and..."
"I'm not a child. Grandmother. A hundred years ago, women were married and had children by my age. I'm a woman and what makes me age is not time. What makes me age is what the so-called adults around me do, to me, in spite of me. They won't let us be children. They kill the child in us quickly and then they ask us to be grownups like they are.
"I'd rather live in my attic," I spat and left her still mostly in the shadows, glaring out at me like some owl in the darkness waiting for easier prey.
I sprawled on my bed and gazed up at the ceiling until I felt my heart slow and my body calm down. Then I reached for the script Miss Hamilton had given me. It was a play entitled Death Takes a Holiday . I was familiar with the story. It was one of Mommy's favorites, actually.
A young woman is courted by a handsome man who turns out to be Death on holiday and when it's time for him to leave, he tells her who he is and she reveals she always knew and she's still willing to go with him.
Romantic slop?
Maybe.
But at the moment. I would gladly put my hand into his and run off. I could do this part well. I thought.
I could do it so well. I'd frighten myself.
6 Seizing the Stage
Grandmother Beverly didn't tell Daddy about Clarence and me. She had a better way and a far more effective place to snap her punitive whip. Now it was Clarence's turn to be called out of class, only for him it was to meet with his father. Because Clarence didn't return for his afternoon classes. I didn't find out about it until I returned from visiting with Mommy. Instinctively, I knew something terrible was going on. Every time I thought about him, about our teacher calling out his name and telling him to report to the office, I felt my heart thump along like a flat tire.
When I drove into the clinic parking lot and
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