21 note, which opened “Dear Sister-Cousin,” he described a “big sisterish” waitress who was helping him improve his dancing. He asked Sylvia to come to Brewster in early July, but she decided not to go — she was pale and exhausted. Evidently, because she did not come, Norton’s friendship with the waitress grew more intimate. A few weeks later, he came to see Sylvia and confessed; her resulting anger ruined their day, and much of the coming year. In his July 18 letter, Norton signed himself “Truly and faithfully” and pointed out that his indiscretions occurred only because she had failed him by not coming to Brewster.
Sylvia was appalled, not only because of Norton’s acts but also because of his attempts to justify those acts. She had thought she was his girlfriend. She had taken a miserable summer job in order to be near him, and the extent of their summer was going to be a few days together. She felt only “a deep hurt” at his treatment. She had idealized their relationship, but her pain was no less real for her naive trust in those idealizations.
What she saw as Norton’s betrayal colored his every word and action. She was so angry about the double standard behavior — that he could simply confess his intimacy and expect to be forgiven — that she had sleepless nights. Sylvia expressed her anger only in her journal (“Being born a woman is my awful tragedy,” she raged) and sometimes on the Mayo piano, if no one else was in the house. She had already invested years of thought, talk, and guilt in the subject of sexuality. Especially at Smith, she had listened well to other women: “Once a woman has intercourse she isn’t satisfied,” “You need time and security for full pleasure,” and the dire “You’ll be finished at Smith.” She was remaining a virgin so that she could continue school, but more importantly because she wanted to be virginal for a husband. Now the very man she thought would be her husband had just made love with someone he cared very little about. In another year, Sylvia was to write in her journal, with predictable self-disgust, that she was still a virgin but that her love-making was “Everything but: what a pretty compromise between technical virginity and practical satisfaction.”
During the 1950s, before birth control pills and in the days of illegal and dangerous abortions, American women knew all too well the destructive potential of sex. There was much frustration and anger about it — and so it was for Sylvia. But despite her disappointment with Norton, she persisted in the relationship. Dick had become her choice for a mate, regardless of the way he treated her. He seemed to be everything her family and friends admired — ambitious, talented, handsome, well educated, and from a good family. He was also studying to be a doctor. With characteristic stubbornness, Sylvia tried to live with the situation. The four days in September that the Plath and Norton families shared at Brewster, however, were agony, and Sylvia found herself spending more time with Perry than with Dick. Dick too was airing hurt feelings. Their anger finally culminated in what Norton called a “truth talk.” Sitting back to back in the center of an open field, Sylvia and Dick asked tough questions and gave candid answers. They decided to continue their relationship, although Dick seemed to think that they were engaged, while Sylvia promised herself that, if she chose, she would date other men as well.
A few weeks later, Dick entered medical school at Harvard and Sylvia returned to Smith, ready to do even better than she had freshman year. At chapel on September 28, she was named one of twenty-four outstanding sophomores. Classes during her second year were more to her liking. She took English, creative writing, government, religion, art, and physical education. Except for B’s in the latter, all her grades were A or A-.
Along with creative writing, Mr. Crary’s Religion 14 was her
Sylvia was appalled, not only because of Norton’s acts but also because of his attempts to justify those acts. She had thought she was his girlfriend. She had taken a miserable summer job in order to be near him, and the extent of their summer was going to be a few days together. She felt only “a deep hurt” at his treatment. She had idealized their relationship, but her pain was no less real for her naive trust in those idealizations.
What she saw as Norton’s betrayal colored his every word and action. She was so angry about the double standard behavior — that he could simply confess his intimacy and expect to be forgiven — that she had sleepless nights. Sylvia expressed her anger only in her journal (“Being born a woman is my awful tragedy,” she raged) and sometimes on the Mayo piano, if no one else was in the house. She had already invested years of thought, talk, and guilt in the subject of sexuality. Especially at Smith, she had listened well to other women: “Once a woman has intercourse she isn’t satisfied,” “You need time and security for full pleasure,” and the dire “You’ll be finished at Smith.” She was remaining a virgin so that she could continue school, but more importantly because she wanted to be virginal for a husband. Now the very man she thought would be her husband had just made love with someone he cared very little about. In another year, Sylvia was to write in her journal, with predictable self-disgust, that she was still a virgin but that her love-making was “Everything but: what a pretty compromise between technical virginity and practical satisfaction.”
During the 1950s, before birth control pills and in the days of illegal and dangerous abortions, American women knew all too well the destructive potential of sex. There was much frustration and anger about it — and so it was for Sylvia. But despite her disappointment with Norton, she persisted in the relationship. Dick had become her choice for a mate, regardless of the way he treated her. He seemed to be everything her family and friends admired — ambitious, talented, handsome, well educated, and from a good family. He was also studying to be a doctor. With characteristic stubbornness, Sylvia tried to live with the situation. The four days in September that the Plath and Norton families shared at Brewster, however, were agony, and Sylvia found herself spending more time with Perry than with Dick. Dick too was airing hurt feelings. Their anger finally culminated in what Norton called a “truth talk.” Sitting back to back in the center of an open field, Sylvia and Dick asked tough questions and gave candid answers. They decided to continue their relationship, although Dick seemed to think that they were engaged, while Sylvia promised herself that, if she chose, she would date other men as well.
A few weeks later, Dick entered medical school at Harvard and Sylvia returned to Smith, ready to do even better than she had freshman year. At chapel on September 28, she was named one of twenty-four outstanding sophomores. Classes during her second year were more to her liking. She took English, creative writing, government, religion, art, and physical education. Except for B’s in the latter, all her grades were A or A-.
Along with creative writing, Mr. Crary’s Religion 14 was her
Similar Books
