Chapter 21: Trial and truth

Joe floated home without once touching the ground. He almost missed the turn into his street. Everything seemed new, unfamiliar; somehow brighter; silvery.
The next few weeks went by in a blur. Every day after school, Joe picked up Mary at Miz Gryder's. They took long walks by the river. They sat on a log that had washed up on the bank during a flood, and talked for hours, about nothing. Every Friday they had a date. It was always the same; supper at the City Café (Mary didn't want to go to Hungry Jim's; that didn't seem strange to Joe; she worked there - why would she want to spend her off time there?), go to the movie, then afterwards, an ice cream at the Creamery, then back home. They never went to the train trestle again.
Joe's parents couldn't miss the change in their son. “When are we going to get to meet your girl? Don't you think you're spending too much time with one girl? You're too young to be getting serious. There are lots of other girls, you know. What about your grades? I haven't seen you studying much, lately.”
By far the most constant and insistent demand was for Joe to have Mary come over for dinner with the family. Finally, Joe asked Mary if she would come, but Mary delayed. She never said no, but she always seemed to have some reason not to come, or simply avoided answering his invitations directly.
Isabell Langston would not be denied. “Joe, you simply MUST bring your young girl to dinner. Are you hiding something from us? Are you ashamed of her? Are you doing something you shouldn't? Well then, bring her here and let us meet her.”
There was simply no getting around it. The date was set. Mary felt as if she were awaiting execution.
What to wear? Mary had to make a good first impression. She had no money for a proper wardrobe. Three pairs of blue jeans and half a dozen blouses were all she could afford on her salary. That was impossible; she couldn't let Miz Langston see her dressed like that. Suddenly she had an inspiration. She would use her waitress uniform as a starter. The uniform was a simple pair of black slacks and white blouse. At least the slacks were better than blue jeans. She added a dash of color with a red sash at the waist and a yellow scarf around her neck. She would have given 30 years of her life for a string of fake pearls.
Mary curled her hair into short wave and applied a minimum of makeup. She looked in the mirror and was aghast. She reached out to pick up the phone and tell Joe something, anything. She was impossible.
No. It would have to do. Let Miz Langston see her. Then it would all be over. Miz Langston would make sure that Joe never saw her again.
Waiting for Joe to pick her up, Mary experienced time with a unique texture that was almost tangible. Time seemed to stand still, it was moving so slowly. And then suddenly, it was there. It was like waiting for the big final exam; waiting and waiting, then discovering at the last minute that you hadn't reviewed a most important chapter.
It rushed in and caught her unprepared.
Wonderful Joe was standing there, beaming. She was climbing into the car. They were driving. Down the shady, oak overhanging street, turning left for a short block, then right onto Three Notch toward town, across the railroad at the bottom of the gully, up the hill then left on Eight Mile Creek towards the shirt factory, on, on to the manicured lawns in the fine section at the edge of the city limits. Down another oak-cool shaded lane to stop in front of the wooden columns and long front porch of the Langston home.
It was a large, one-story, wooden structure; unpretentious, but dignified. It was not an Old South mansion, but rather one of the more unassuming houses in the genteel neighborhood. There were chimneys on both ends of the house, but the fireplaces had been bricked up long ago, when the more convenient gas furnace was installed. The long porch had the usual swing, glider and rocking chairs, and the railings were lined with potted plants. All in all, it was not that much different from Miz Gryder's house.
They went up the cement steps onto the front porch. Joe opened the door, and a faint smell of magnolia mixed with floor wax wafted out. The hardwood floor creaked discretely as they walked into the parlor.
“Mom,” Joe called out. Mary jumped at the sudden sound. “Don't be nervous,” Joe said, and squeezed her hand.
Miz Langston appeared from a hallway dressed in her Azalea Club finery. She was wearing a filmy, flower pattern dress with a black belt and gold buckle. At her neck, a black silk scarf provided the perfect contrast to a trim choker of flawless natural pearls. She looked ready to sit at the seat of honor at the speakers' table.
Miz Langston crossed the room briskly and held out her hand to Mary. “We're delighted to make your acquaintance, Mary. Joe has told us so - little about you.” Miz Langston's laughter sounded like tiny silver bells.
“Mo-m,” Joe protested,
“Oh, gracious, Joe, don't be so stiff! I sure Miss Parker has a sense of humor - don't you, honey?” Miz Langston tugged at Mary's elbow. “Why don't you come into the kitchen with me so we can get acquainted?”
When they were alone, Miz Langston drew Mary to the kitchen table. “Please sit down, Mary - may I call you Mary?”
“Yes, of course, Miz Langston,” Mary replied.
Miz Langston's voice was soft and low, like a gentle Southern breeze. “Please forgive a nosy mother's curiosity, dear, but you really ARE somethin' of a mystery in this little town, you know. We DO want to know everything about our children's lives.”
“You want to know my background,” Mary offered.
Isabell Langston remained silent, but looked at Mary expectantly.
Every instinct told Mary to lie; to make up sweet tales of her past - anything to put Miz Langston's mind at rest.
She couldn't do it. An unseen force molded her words from the truth. “I - we - my Mom and me - we couldn't get along. I ran away.” The words tumbled out on their own.
“What sort of trouble did you have with your mother?”
“I can't talk about it - really,” Mary pleaded.
Isabell Langston frowned. “What about your father, dear?”
“I never knew my father, Miz Langston.”
Isabell sighed. “Have you contacted your mother since you've been here, to let her know where you are? That you're all right?”
“I can't.”
“Mary…”
“Miz Langston, I know you mean well, I do. But I really can't. There are things you don't understand; things I can't talk about.
“What about school, Mary? You ought to be in school. You don't want to go on like this. You don't want to be a waitress all your life, do you?”
“No, m'am.”
“Well, then, what are your plans?”
“As soon as I save a little money, I plan to take classes in night school.”
“What kind of classes?”
“I want to be a veterinarian.”
“That's a very ambitious goal, Mary,” Isabell Langston said. “It's almost as demanding as becoming a doctor. Where will you find the time and the money?”
“Others have done it on their own. I can do it.”
“It's a very demanding curriculum.”
Mary felt herself on the edge of a precipice. An unseen force was pushing her toward gaping nothingness. “You don't think I have the brains for it, do you?”
Isabell Langston blinked, caught off guard by the sudden challenging tone in Mary's normally meek voice.
“No, no, my dear. I'm sure you're a very bright girl. I didn't mean it that way. Forgive me.”
Mary felt herself falling through space, a giddy lightness in her stomach. She was over the edge, falling, falling. “Or maybe you think I'm really trying to marry your son, so I won't have to worry about money.” It was as if some one or something had taken over Mary's brain. Mary's lips and tongue were moving, but somebody else's words were coming out of her mouth.
Isabell Langston was stunned speechless for the first time in her life. She sat silent, barely able to keep her mouth from opening like a fish gasping for oxygen.
Mary flushed, unable to speak. Then she was running. Up and running. Out the kitchen door. Slam. Down the steps. Backyard. Cross that. Jump the creek. Up the other bank. Into the woods. Run. Run. Don't let them catch me. Long arms with scratchy fingers were reaching out to grab Mary She pushed them aside and ran and ran.
Isabell Langston sat staring through the kitchen door at Mary's receding figure.
“Momma, where's Mary?” Joe Langston had been nervously fidgeting in the living room while the women were talking in the kitchen. He came to investigate the sound of the slamming kitchen door.
His mother pointed at the screen door. Joe stared, stunned. “Why - what?” His mother just shrugged.
Joe burst out of the house and followed her. With a few quick strides he traversed the backyard where he had spent so many childhood hours playing. Beyond it was the small patch of woods where he had built a fort with friends and pretended to be Robin Hood and his Merry Men.
He quickened his pace. “Mary!” he called, gasping for breath. “Mary!” For several anxious moments he could see nothing in the thicket. He kept crashing forward, sharp branches tearing his skin. Finally, he caught sight of something that didn't belong. Now he could make it out. It was Mary's yellow scarf. He slowly moved forward.
Mary was lying face down in a small clearing, sobbing.
“Mary! What's the matter? Why did you run away?” Joe asked. No answer. He slowly walked up to her and knelt down. He put his hand on her shoulder and said nothing. For a long time they were silent. He stroked her back.
“I-I'm sorry,” she sobbed. “I was talking to your mother, and all of a sudden, it seemed I was talking to my mom. I couldn't take it.”
“You never told me about you and your mom; about why you ran away from home - came here. I think it's time you told me.”
“I - I can't Joe.”
“Mary.” Joe's voice dropped lower. “If you can't trust me with your secrets, how can you trust me with the rest of your life?”
“The rest of my life?”
“If we're going to be together, we have to trust each other,” he said.
Warmth started spreading in Mary, filling up her empty spaces inside; the spaces that were never filled. “My mother…” It was painful to find the first words. But after they started, they wouldn't quit coming. Years of pent-up feelings, bursting to get out, demanding to be spoken, that she had pushed down, now rushed out. She told it all. The alcoholic, drug-fogged mother who was never a mother; who used her as one would use a pack animal. The Billys, Joes, Sams, Zekes that pawed her and did terrible things to her while her mother lay unconscious on the sofa, dead to the world on pills and bourbon. Dead. Dead. Dead. Mary wished she was dead; couldn't wish that, not that. Yes!
Mary looked up, suddenly afraid; afraid to see the look in Joe's eyes. Would he be disgusted? Never want to see her again? Damaged goods. Dirty. Filthy.
He was still there. The shock on his face was unmistakable. But there was no disgust, only sorrow and pity.
“Don't look like that!” she exclaimed.
“Like what?”
“Don't pity me. I couldn't stand it! That's why I didn't want to tell you! If we're going to be together, it has to be because you love me - not because you feel sorry for me.”
“But I do feel sorry. Sorry anybody could be so cruel, so unfeeling.”
“OK.” Mary smiled. “You can feel sorry. But don't pity me! I won't have it!”
“Yes, ma’am. No pity.” He gave her a comic military salute. The corner of Joe's mouth turned up in a half grin that was so charming Mary just had to kiss it.
He kissed back. He felt himself disappearing, dissolving into her face, losing himself. Everything started to get blurry. She wrapped herself around him, smothering, gasping, breathing.
Finally, they both came up for air. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“You know what?” Joe said. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Mary said.
“Let’s go,” Joe said. He struggled to his feet and pulled Mary up.
“I can't go back,” she said.
“Of course you can; why not?”
“What will your mother think?”
“It doesn't matter. Come on, let's go.”
“Joe - “
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
“There’s more?”
“I've got to tell you now, while I still have the courage.” Mary told Joe what happened at Hungry Jim’s. When she was finished, Joe let his breath out. “Jim? Jim did that to you? I can’t believe it!”
“You don’t believe me?!”
“Yes, of course I believe you. I mean - I just mean... I never would have expected that from him. I mean, he can be a jerk sometimes - but rape?”
“I told you - he stopped -- someone came in.”
“But he tried it! We’ve got to report it to the police!”
“NO!”
“Mary - what he did was a crime. We’ve got to report it.”
“No! The way he looked! I was scared - but I think he was more scared. He won’t try it again.”
“Well, still…you can't go back there.”
“I’ve got to. Where would I find another job?”
“We’ll think of something. I won't let you go back there.” Mary looked at Joe with something new in her eyes. “You won’t LET me?”
“No.”
Mary wrapped her arms around him and kissed him so hard his teeth hurt.

Chapter 20: Confessions

“What's the matter, son?” Isabell Langston was worried.
“Nothing.”
“You've been acting so strangely lately. Out at all hours; absent-minded, even more than usual. Is it that girl you just met?”
“Oh, Mommmm!”
“Just askin'. Can't a mother ask?
“No.”
“Well, then. I declare. Just let a mother worry.”
Joe Langston didn't hear that last part. He was already up the stairs to his room. He kicked his SuperTron 10X joystick under the computer desk and flopped down on his bed. He didn't feel like studying. He didn't feel like reading. He didn't even feel like playing computer games.

Joe made up his mind. He got in his car. He drove straight to Miz Gryder's house. He parked in front. He got out of the car. He walked up to the front door. He took a deep breath. He rang the doorbell. Footsteps. The door opened. Miz Gryder stood there.
“Why, Joe -- Hello,” she said.
“Good afternoon, ma'am.”
“Can I help you?”
“Yes'm. Is Mary home?”
“Yes, just a moment.”
Miz Gryder retreated and a few moments later Mary stood there.
“Hi, Joe.” Mary smiled brightly. Then she frowned when she saw Joe's serious face. “What's wrong?” “We've got to talk,” Joe said.
“All right.” Mary felt cold.

He led the way. They walked down to the deserted school and sat in the bleachers at the ball park. Finally Joe broke the silence. “It's all wrong,” he said. Mary's heart sank. “I want to make it right.” Joe saw the look on her face. “You don't understand,” he continued. “Before, I was just trying to…and now…”

Mary's heart leapt. She turned to him and smiled.
“I love you,” they said.
They kissed, it seemed, for the first time.