Poor Jenny, Bright As A Penny

Chapter 12

I have a confession to make, but just to me. I was mean and small to ever think what I did about the welfare money. Beside me on my desk is our first bankbook, Bingo’s and mine. We signed for it today, and only we can draw from it. It contains all the money that welfare paid Georgie for us, except our allowances. Georgie said she didn’t want any, that it is rightfully ours. I didn’t know what to say to her. By the time Mama gets out we’ll have over five hundred dollars. I deposited our baby-sitting money from the trunk too. It’s a fortune; it’s enough for Bingo and me to have a real beginning when I get out of school.

I thought that we should pay for our board, but Georgie says we have earned that, helping in the house and yard.

I am feeling very ashamed.

I’ve been asked for my first date. Really asked for a date. I’m not going, I turned him down. But I was asked. He’s sort of a drip—is that really why I turned him down, or was I afraid to go on a date with a boy? How do you act on a date?

Or was it that he seemed so dull, compared to Ben?

I guess if Tom Riley in Civics asked me, though, I wouldn’t turn him down. But he hasn’t.

My driving is getting better but I still jerk the clutch sometimes, and that makes people shout at me. Or draw in their breath patiently and wait for me to do it right. I’d rather be shouted at than sighed over. We drive on the little dirt roads in the park, sometimes Georgie, sometimes Ben. Ben was so polite at first, he never got angry no matter what I did. I told him that made me nervous, so now he swears at me sometimes. That’s more comfortable. Jack took me once, but I got stuck in a ditch and he hasn’t taken me since. Well, he’s been on early night duty, so maybe that’s why.

Jack brought us some news of Crystal, and I think he felt bad about it. Clayhill was arrested in Los Angeles with a car full of Mexican marijuana, and he said Crystal had been with him in Mexico. She left him in Tijuana. She ran away with a pusher named Aubin Flick. That was all the information Jack could get, but there is a warrant out for Flick. Poor Crystal, I try not to think what is happening to her, but I dream about her.

And sometimes I dream about Papa, I remember things about Papa as if something here has brought him back to me. The same kind of feeling I must have had when I was six or seven, and Papa was the whole world.

Now Georgie has read my six stories. I think she was pleased. She told me two were very fine and needed only minor editing. She said to put them all away until they could get cold, then to read them again to see what I would do to the other four. I can’t see what she means now, but she says I will. They must get cold first, so I can read them as another reader would.

It’s hard, though, knowing they’re not perfect. Because they felt perfect when I wrote them and I can’t imagine them being any other way. Georgie says I will, though. That’s part of becoming a writer.

And I mustn’t forget: She said two were very fine. I’m glad of that, I needed someone to tell me that. I’ve been feeling rotten lately, Mama’s been so cross. Every time we visit her she’s more difficult than the last time. Sometimes I wonder why we bother to go at all. It makes Bingo very depressed. She’s been so rude to us, and sullen. Partly it’s because of the things I said to her, though she hasn’t mentioned it. She hasn’t said anything about her plans, and I’m too stubborn to ask. She says rude things about the Dermodys. I never should have told her they were a police family. I take her candy and cigarettes. She could thank me just once. I’m not looking forward to going with Mama. It’s only four weeks away. I wonder where Lud’s gone off to. Mama says she hasn’t heard from him. I wonder, though, the way she says it. Maybe without Lud she’ll be willing to settle down. I wanted that more than anything for so long. And yet now—now I must be honest. Now I don’t want Mama to settle down. At least part of me wants to stay here.

I like it here. I like being teased when there’s no meanness in it, and laughing, and sitting around the fire with cocoa, and playing poker for matches with Jack and Ben, and going to the movies with the whole family, and having a sundae after, and acting crazy all the way home. The other night Georgie laughed so hard she broke her bra strap.

But I can’t go back on my word to Mama. After I laid down the law, I have to stick with what I said.

*

It would take all the determination the three of them had to make the plan work.

Bingo knew that. He said once, “Mama’s never had a job, Jenny. Do you think she could get one, and keep it?”

“I think she ought to try,” Jenny snapped. She knew she was being short-tempered and unpleasant, but she couldn’t seem to help it lately. The dilemma in her mind prodded at her. She had begun to wonder if, in her desire to stay, she would find herself being rude so Mama would go off angry and leave them. It would be easy to do.

*

I have to he stern with myself and do what’s right, but now that Lud is back I feel more confused than ever. My plan didn’t include Lud, I don’t know if Mama can change with him around.

He came to the house. I think he came because Mama wanted to know what kind of a house we were living in. I think he came to report back to Mama all kinds of little details, and of course put them in the worst light. I was furious. I didn’t let him in.

I was washing Georgie s car—school was out last Thursday—and I was scrubbing the last fender when Lud drove up in a black Ford and sat staring at me. I was sopping wet. It’s hard to have a lot of dignity when your clothes are wet and your tennis shoes are squishing. He got out of the car and carried a trunk up onto the porch and started to walk right in with it. I threw down the hose and ran in front of him. He stank of beer. I told him to get going, and he said, “Now, missy,” all very soothing, and “Come on now, honey.” I hate him.

*

Jenny had stood with her back to the partially open door, glaring.

“Ain’t you going to ask me in, missy?”

“No. Go away. Georgie’s working and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Georgie isn’t home. I saw her drive off with that bluesuit.”

“Well Ben is. Now get out.” She knew the house was empty.

“You know, I think you’re growing up a bit, missy. Filling out here and there, ain’t you now?”

Jenny glowered.

He took a step forward. He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. She elbowed him in the stomach and twisted away. “Get the hell out of here. Get out now!”

“You better be nice to me, missy, I’m stronger than you. I can do anything I want with you.”

“Get out.”

He grabbed her again, but this time she went limp and did not fight. When she felt his mouth, she bit him hard. He cried out and slapped her against the side of the house, but instead of looking angry, he looked excited. His mouth was bleeding. “Come on now, missy, you’re a big girl now,” he said huskily.

Jenny faced him, furious—and scared. “You wait until Mama finds out what kind of a bastard you are! You cooked your goose with Mama this time!” She stood as tall as she could and dared him to touch her again.

Lud stared at her, and then he began to laugh. “Goddamn, Jenny, you got a tongue on you as good as your ma.”

“Get out, Lud,” she said coldly.

Lud’s eyes narrowed. Then he got that sheepish grin on his face that she hated. “You ain’t going to tell your ma, now, Jenny? It would only upset her, in jail like she is and all.”

“We’ll see,” Jenny said. “Now get packing.”

When he had gone she stood in the hall against the locked door, her heart pounding.

*

Saturday: Well, I didn’t tell Mama how Lud acted, and she didn’t mention sending him. But when we were ready to leave I said, “I put the trunk in the basement, Mama. Where is everything else?” Mama glared and said, “Lud had all of it, but you were so rude to him, missy, he didn’t feel like unloading any more.” I wonder what he told her. I said, “I was rude to him? That’s a laugh.” And we left. One more week until Mama gets out. I don’t even feel like being decent. I had to tell her about Crystal, though. An informer saw them in San Francisco, Crystal and Aubin Flick, and heard they were coming back. I thought Mama would he upset about Aubin Flick, but she only said, “Crystal’ll show up when I get out of here, likely she knows I’m getting out next week.” I said, “Do you want us to come for you, Mama?” and she said, “There’s no need. Lud’ll pick me up, then we’ll be along over there.”

If the police don’t catch Aubin Flick in San Francisco, the police here will be waiting for him, and they will take Crystal into custody too.

Monday: Mama got out on Saturday, but she didn’t come for us. She hasn’t come yet, and now I know she won’t.

I can’t understand myself. It’s what I wanted, but now I feel just terrible. Mama can’t love us if she’s just gone away without saying anything. Bingo still thinks Mama will come. I don’t.

We were ready early Saturday morning, both of us packed with all our clothes clean and ironed and our books separated from the Dermodys and clean sheets on our beds so Georgie wouldn’t have to do it. It was like a wake, waiting for Mama.

When she hadn’t come by noon I began to know the truth, and by dinnertime I was mad. Even though I really didn’t want her to come, I was hurt that she hadn’t.

I guess I was fuming and stewing a lot, because Georgie told me to settle down. She was pretty cross with me. She said there might have been a lot of things Mama wanted to do, like get her hair done, maybe have lunch in a restaurant after being locked up so long. But I knew where she was, and it made me furious. “She’s with Lud in some bar,” I shouted. Georgie just looked at me, and walked off.

I tried to be patient, I really tried, but I don’t feel patient. Mama could have phoned. She could have been honest and said, “I can’t make it. I can’t settle down. I’m going away with Lud.”

We would have understood. It would have been lovely if Mama could have been honest just once with us and told us how she felt.

*

Jenny prowled the house and fumed. Even the fact that Georgie was working and needed solitude did not seem to chasten her. She remained cross and stormy until finally Georgie turned on her furiously, “If you can’t bear your misery without upsetting everyone else, and making the entire house unpleasant, then go up in the park and fume. I can’t work with all this.”

And Jenny went, crying.

Even Bingo had deserted her. Bingo was bearing it better in his stoic and silent way. He had retreated to the library and into his own solitude. In the absence of Willy, who was away with the Frazees, Bingo opened the library in the morning and closed it up at night, and Jenny was left alone.

Only the park soothed her, only the park was a haven. Alone in it, walking and walking until she was exhausted and the tears were dry, feeling the brush of the tall grass, touching with her fingers the rough tree branches and the small round stones, the dried flower heads, the pine needles, thinking about nothing—only this seemed to heal her—this and her own harsh council. For she told herself cruelly, but sensibly, “It’s what you wanted. You wanted Mama to go away, but now that she has you feel guilty for wanting it.”

She settled down into the tall grass where she was hidden, and she let the sun warm her. It was painful to be honest.

The wind moved the grass in long ripples and somewhere a bird screamed harshly. The trees that grew among the grass were heavy with summer foliage. She was alone on the hill, but the space around her seemed to breathe as if it were alive, and the earth was warm and sweet-smelling; the world around her breathed as she breathed. The sun touched her face and she slept.

*

Some days get off all wrong, then they turn around suddenly and are right. Now I have taken my driver’s test and passed. Last week Georgie abandoned her book long enough to brush up my driving. She said I needed something to do. How hard she was with me. She made me drive in rush-hour traffic, and on all the freeways and interchanges. She should have been a drill sergeant. But I’m glad. It took my mind off myself, and now I have passed my test with a perfect score. It’s a wonder, because when we left the house this morning, just two blocks from home we had a flat tire and Georgie made me change it by myself. She didn’t even tell me what to do. She had already told me that, and shown me, so she just stood and watched me. Well, I did it. I feel very smug.

Ben took us ice skating. He’s good. I could hardly stand up. There was a girl there Ben knew. She must have been twenty. I didn’t like her. It was nicer when we were driving home afterwards. But then we stopped for a malt and two girls he knew came and sat with us and treated me like a child.

I hate being so young.

Ben said afterward, “Don’t mind them. They don’t know any better,” and that embarrassed me.

Aubin Flick has been arrested but there was no sign of Crystal. The police did all they could to find out, but Flick won’t tell anything. Could she be with Mama? I have gone to the old apartment three times, but the landlady says she hasn’t seen either of them. What a horrid person. Clayhill’s mother has moved away. I have such a feeling Crystal is close and needs us. I left a message on the bulletin board, just in case, and our address with the landlady. I feel so blue sometimes, and then the next minute I’ve forgotten Mama and Crystal and I feel great. I guess I’m all mixed up.

Ben took us to visit Central Precinct. I wore hose and heels and lipstick, and a bunch of rookies gave me a long, low whistle. I like being whistled at. We went all through the crime lab, photo lab, radio room, and the office. Now I know where I’m going to work when I get out of school. My typing is almost fast enough, and Ben says I could pass the civil service test with my hands tied behind me.

And I have been going to the library with Bingo. He walks a different way each time and has been sketching the rooftops and the dormers and carvings of the old Victorian houses, the little details around the upper windows. It’s fun to walk looking only upwards, you see all sorts of things you didn’t know were there. I really think Bingo’s getting used to Mama’s having left us. Georgie calls him stoic.