sorry, Joyce. I simply couldn't stand it. He looked like, I don't know—"
"An old snapping turtle. Or an alligator, or crocodile, whichever one it is eats people."
"I can't ever remember either."
They made the train by the skin of their teeth. The conductor had to wait while they dug up the return half of their tickets. It was a commuters' train, filling up quickly at this hour. Joyce was glad they didn't have to stand up, she didn't think she could have managed it. She looked at Mary Jean, sitting lax and still beside her. "Are you all right?"
"Tired, is all. It's funny; I've been thinking, in the books they always get faint or something. I feel perfectly all right only I'm three weeks late, that's all."
"Maybe they don't put that in the books because it isn't polite, or something."
"Right this minute what bothers me is my feet are killing me."
"We've wasted a whole day," Joyce said sadly. "I couldn't let that man do it. Do you reckon they're all like that?"
"I wouldn't trust him to give a sick dog a dose of salts," Joyce said scornfully. It was Uncle Will's expression. "We'll have to think up a better way. We could ask around all day and not hit on the right person."
"What we need is to ask somebody who's full of sin and wickedness," Mary Jean said in a frayed voice. She smiled to show she was joking, but it wasn't much of a smile. "We don't know the right kind of people. I know a lot of girls who've done their share of sleeping around and admit it. I even know a couple I think have had operations—but you can't ask."
"They won't tell, you mean."
"I can't wait much longer." The train jerked to a stop. Mary Jean grabbed the edge of the seat with both hands to steady herself. "The longer you wait the more dangerous it is. Besides, I'll go crazy if something doesn't happen pretty soon."
"We're doing the best we can." That sounded sharp, and she didn't mean it to. I'm tired, Joyce excused herself. Tired and worried. It's no use to take it out on the poor kid, though, she has enough already. "We're going to be way late for dinner; you can go right to bed. Me too. I'm pooped."
"Oh, you don't have to be literary tonight?"
"That sounds like a dirty crack."
"Sorry, I guess I'm kind of jumpy."
"Sure."
"I can't wait much longer," Mary Jean said again. "People can tell by the way your eyes look, or something. Besides, it's not safe after three months." She was close to hysteria; it showed in the way she clenched her hands and in the muscle that jerked beneath her ear. "We've got to do something right away."
"Have you ever thought about going ahead and having it?"
"Very funny. I can see myself getting kicked out. It's only three and a half months till this semester's over. I can see Pop's face when I tell him. And the deacons'. He'd never get another church."
"Well, girls do sometimes."
"Yeah. Maybe I could get into some kind of a shelter for immoral girls, or whatever they call it." Mary Jean smiled thinly. "I think they teach you how to do housework. That's a bright future. Anyhow, I think it's a sin to bring a child into the world when you can't even take care of it or anything. An orphan in an orphan asylum, without anybody to even love it."
"I wish you wouldn't talk as if it were a baby already. It's only a little clump of cells."
Mary Jean swallowed. "That's what I keep telling myself. Let's not talk about it any more."
"Okay. You brought it up, I didn't."
They got off the train in Henderson. Same old depot, mellowed by twilight; same old troubles, Joyce thought drearily. Good Lord, were all women's troubles on account of men? They went into the waiting room, for no good reason except that both of them were reluctant to go back to school. Nobody was there except an old colored man who was pushing a cloud of dust ahead of a broom, looking as if his feet hurt. Well, Joyce thought, he's not the only one. At that moment she was not as worried about Mary Jean as she thought she should be, because what she
"An old snapping turtle. Or an alligator, or crocodile, whichever one it is eats people."
"I can't ever remember either."
They made the train by the skin of their teeth. The conductor had to wait while they dug up the return half of their tickets. It was a commuters' train, filling up quickly at this hour. Joyce was glad they didn't have to stand up, she didn't think she could have managed it. She looked at Mary Jean, sitting lax and still beside her. "Are you all right?"
"Tired, is all. It's funny; I've been thinking, in the books they always get faint or something. I feel perfectly all right only I'm three weeks late, that's all."
"Maybe they don't put that in the books because it isn't polite, or something."
"Right this minute what bothers me is my feet are killing me."
"We've wasted a whole day," Joyce said sadly. "I couldn't let that man do it. Do you reckon they're all like that?"
"I wouldn't trust him to give a sick dog a dose of salts," Joyce said scornfully. It was Uncle Will's expression. "We'll have to think up a better way. We could ask around all day and not hit on the right person."
"What we need is to ask somebody who's full of sin and wickedness," Mary Jean said in a frayed voice. She smiled to show she was joking, but it wasn't much of a smile. "We don't know the right kind of people. I know a lot of girls who've done their share of sleeping around and admit it. I even know a couple I think have had operations—but you can't ask."
"They won't tell, you mean."
"I can't wait much longer." The train jerked to a stop. Mary Jean grabbed the edge of the seat with both hands to steady herself. "The longer you wait the more dangerous it is. Besides, I'll go crazy if something doesn't happen pretty soon."
"We're doing the best we can." That sounded sharp, and she didn't mean it to. I'm tired, Joyce excused herself. Tired and worried. It's no use to take it out on the poor kid, though, she has enough already. "We're going to be way late for dinner; you can go right to bed. Me too. I'm pooped."
"Oh, you don't have to be literary tonight?"
"That sounds like a dirty crack."
"Sorry, I guess I'm kind of jumpy."
"Sure."
"I can't wait much longer," Mary Jean said again. "People can tell by the way your eyes look, or something. Besides, it's not safe after three months." She was close to hysteria; it showed in the way she clenched her hands and in the muscle that jerked beneath her ear. "We've got to do something right away."
"Have you ever thought about going ahead and having it?"
"Very funny. I can see myself getting kicked out. It's only three and a half months till this semester's over. I can see Pop's face when I tell him. And the deacons'. He'd never get another church."
"Well, girls do sometimes."
"Yeah. Maybe I could get into some kind of a shelter for immoral girls, or whatever they call it." Mary Jean smiled thinly. "I think they teach you how to do housework. That's a bright future. Anyhow, I think it's a sin to bring a child into the world when you can't even take care of it or anything. An orphan in an orphan asylum, without anybody to even love it."
"I wish you wouldn't talk as if it were a baby already. It's only a little clump of cells."
Mary Jean swallowed. "That's what I keep telling myself. Let's not talk about it any more."
"Okay. You brought it up, I didn't."
They got off the train in Henderson. Same old depot, mellowed by twilight; same old troubles, Joyce thought drearily. Good Lord, were all women's troubles on account of men? They went into the waiting room, for no good reason except that both of them were reluctant to go back to school. Nobody was there except an old colored man who was pushing a cloud of dust ahead of a broom, looking as if his feet hurt. Well, Joyce thought, he's not the only one. At that moment she was not as worried about Mary Jean as she thought she should be, because what she
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