To Sail Beyond The Sunset: The Life and Loves of Maureen Johnson

Chapter 19 - Cats and Children

It was after one o'clock before I left the children; it had taken that long to convince them that I was not angry, that I was on their side, that my only concern was to sec that they did not get hurt - because what they were doing was exceptionally dangerous in all sorts of ways, some of which I was sure they knew but some of which they, may not know about or had at least not thought about.

When I had gone in to see them, I had not grabbed a robe. Instead I had gone in as I was, bare naked, because a fully dressed authority figure such as a parent, walking in on two children caught in delectable flagrente, is all too likely to scare it out of them - cause bladder and bowel to cut loose. But another human as naked and vulnerable as they were themselves simply could not be a ‘cop'. As Father had taught me years earlier, to know which way the frog will jump, you have to put yourself in the frog's place.

They still would not like being caught - they didn't! - but, if I did not catch them in bed together, they would lie about it later if I tried to question them. It is parallel to the old rule about puppies: if you don't catch a puppy at it, it is useless to bring the matter up later.

So I tapped and asked to come in, and waited.

A suppressed gasp, then dead silence -

I waited a while longer, then counted ten chimpanzees and tapped again. ‘Donald! Priscilla! Please! May I come in?'

There was a whispered conference, then Donald's strong, manly baritone called out - and cracked. ‘Come in - Mother.'

I opened the door. There were no lights on, but there was moonlight and my eyes were adjusted to the low light level. They were in bed together, sheet pulled up, and Donald was simultaneously protecting his sister against all dangers with his strong right arm around her while pretending hard that she was not there at all and that he was just waiting for a streetcar - and my heart went out to him.

The room reeked of sex - male musk, female musk, fresh ejaculate, sweat. I am expert in the odours of sex, with many years of wide experience. Had I not known better I would have judged that this was the site of a six-person orgy.

I must add that some of the odour came from me. Perhaps it is perverse that I should be sexually excited by catching my son and daughter in the most scandalous of all sex offences. But volition does not enter into it. For the moment I recognised those squeaks and deduced what and who, I bad been flowing. If King Kong had wandered by, he would have found me a push-over. Paul Revere I would have pulled from his horse.

But I ignored my state, reminding myself that they could not possibly smell me. ‘Hello, dears! Is there room in the middle for me?'

Silence, then they moved apart. I went quickly to them before they could change their minds, pushed down the sheet, crawled over Donald, got between them on my back, snaked my right arm under Priscilla's neck, reached for Donald. ‘have a shoulder pillow, Donald. Turn toward me, dear.'

He did so, stiffly, then remained tense. I said nothing and cuddled both my children, breathed deeply and tried to slow my heart. It began to work, and my youngsters seemed to relax somewhat, too.

Presently I said softly, ‘How sweet to have both my darlings in bed with me,' and gave them each a quick squeeze and relaxed still holding them.

Priscilla said timidly, ‘Mama, you're not mad at us?'

‘Mad at you? Heavens, no! I'm worried about your welfare. But not angry. I love you, dear. Love you both.'

‘Oh. I'm glad you're not mad.' Then curiosity got her. ‘How did you catch us? I was very careful. I listened at your door, made sure you were asleep before I snuck in here and woke Donnie.'

‘I probably wouldn't have noticed anything if I hadn't been drinking lemonade before going to bed. I woke up, dear, and had to pee. That wall on Donald's side of the bed is a wall of my bathroom. Sound goes right through it. So I heard you.' I hugged her to me. ‘It sounded like a dandy!'

Brief silence - ‘It was.'

‘I believe you. There is nothing, just nothing, as good as a gut-wrenching orgasm when you really need one. And you seemed to need that one. I heard you thank Donald.'

‘Uh... he deserved thanks.'

‘And smart of you to tell him so. Priscilla, there is nothing a man likes more than to be appreciated for his lovemaking. So keep it up all your life; it will make both you and your love happy. Mark my words. Remember them.'

‘I'll remember.'

Donald apparently had trouble believing what he was hearing. ‘Mother? Do I have this straight? You don't mind what we were doing?'

‘Tell me what you were doing.'

‘Uh - We were screwing!' He said it defiantly.

‘"Screwing" is something dogs do. You were loving, you were making love to Priscilla. Or, if you like long medical words, you mo were copulated and engaging in coition to climax... which is like describing a gorgeous sunset in wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum. You were loving her, dear, and Priscilla is lovable. She was a lovable baby and she is even more lovable as a grown woman.'

I decided that now was the time to grasp the nettle, so I went on, ‘Loving is sweet and good. Just the same, I'm extremely worried about you two. I suppose you both realise that the society around us strongly disapproves of what you were doing, has severe, cruel laws against it, and would punish you both horribly if they caught you. Priscilla, they would take you away from Donald and me, and put you in a home for delinquent girls, and you would hate every minute of it. Donald, if you were lucky, they might try you as a legal infant and do to you something like they would do to Priscilla - reform school until you are twenty-one, then registration and supervision as a sex offender. Or they might decide to try you as an adult - statutory rape and incest, and about twenty years at hard labour and then supervision the rest of your life. Do you know that, dear ones?'

Priscilla did not answer; she was crying. Donald said gruffly, ‘Yes, we know that.'

‘Well? What's the answer?'

‘But, Mother, we love each other. Priss loves me and I love Priss.'

‘I know you do and I respect your love. But you didn't answer me; you avoided answering. What is the answer to your problem?'

He took a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh. ‘I guess we've got to quit.'

I patted bis ribs. ‘Donald, you are a gallant knight and I'm proud of you. But now I must ask a frank question. When you started masturbating, did you ever swear off? Resolve never to do it again?'

‘Uh, yes.'

‘How long did you stay stopped?'

He answered sheepishly, ‘About a day and a half.'

‘How long are you going to leave Priscilla alone, when you happen on a perfect, utterly safe opportunity and she rubs up against you and tells you not to be a sissy, and she smells good and feels even better?'

‘Why, Mama, I wouldn't do that!'

Donald heaved a quiet sigh. ‘The hell you wouldn't, Slugger. You have, near enough. Mama, you've got me. What do you do? Nail me into a barrel? Or send me to Kemper?'

‘Kemper isn't far enough; it had better be the Citadel. Children, that's not the answer. Instead - I really meant it when I said I wasn't angry. Let's all engage in a conspiracy to keep you two from being hurt. First, what contraception are you using?'

I had addressed the question to both of them. There was an extended silence, as each (I think) waited for the other to answer.

At last Donald said, ‘We had some rubbers. But they're all gone and I don't have any money.'

(Oh, my God!) ‘A clear reason why you should include me in your plans. There are both rubbers and fishskins in this house, and you can always have all you want. Priscilla, when did you menstruate last? Starting date?'

‘On Monday the fourteenth, so -‘

No, it wasn't, Priss. The fourteenth was the day we went to Fort Worth: And we passed the French consulate -‘

‘Trade mission.'

‘Well, something French, and they had a lot of bunting and flags out because it was Bastille Day, and you certainly didn't start the curse that day because - well, you remember. So it must have been the following Monday. If it was a Monday:

I said, ‘Priscilla, don't you keep a calendar?'

‘Of course I do! Always.'

‘Will you run and get it, please? Lets turn on a light'

‘Uh - It's in Dallas.'

(Oh, damn!) ‘Well, I don't want to tall Marian this late at night. Perhaps you two can compare notes and be certain and we won't have to call. Priscilla, do you know why I want that date?'

‘Well, I think I do. You want to count up and tell if I'm fertile tonight'

‘Good. Now both of you listen carefully. Marching orders. Laws of the Medes and the Persians, chiselled in stone. Once we figure it out, Priscilla, you will sleep with me the day you ovulate and three days each side... and each month you will stay in my sight during your fertile week. All the time. Every minute. We aren't going to trust to good resolutions.'

I went on, ‘I'm not moralising; I'm just being practical. The other three weeks of each month I will not try to keep you two apart. But you will use fishskins, not rubbers, and you will use them every time... because there are thousands of Catholic mothers and quite a few non-Catholic ones who depended solely on "rhythm". You will not make love anywhere but in this house, with me in the house, with no one else in the house, and with all outside doors locked.

‘In public you will always behave like most brothers and sisters, friendly but a little bored with each other. You will never show jealousy over each other; jealousy, possessive behaviour, is a dead giveaway. However, Donald, you can always be your sister's gallant knight, empowered to poke anyone in the jaw or give him a karate chop if that's what it takes to protect her from some oaf. That's both a brother's duty and his proud privilege.'

‘That's what happened,' he said gruffly.

‘What, Donald?'

‘Gus had her down and was giving her a bad time. So I pulled him off and beat the tar out of him. And he lied about it and Aunt Marian believed him and didn't believe us and told Dad and Dad backed up Aunt Marian and - Anyhow we cut out that night. And didn't have money enough for the bus. So we hitchhiked and saved what money we had for eating. But -‘ Donald started to shake. ‘There were three of them and they took what money I had left and, and - But Priss got away!' I could hear him suppressing sobs that I pretended not to hear.

‘Donnie was wonderful,' Priscilla said solemnly. ‘It was last night as we were leaving Tulsa, Mama, on 44. They carne at us and Donnie yelled for me to run and he stood up to them while I ran down the street to a filling-station that was still open. I told the station owner and begged him to call the cops. He was doing so when Donnie showed up and the station owner helped us get a hitch into Joplin, and there we stayed in an all-night Laundromat till it got light, and then we carne straight here, in two hitches.'

(Dear Lord, if there is Anybody up there, why do You do this to children? Maureen Johnson speaking and You're going to have to answer to me.)

I squeezed his shoulder. I'm proud of you, Donald. It sounds like you took a licking and got robbed to keep your sister from being raped. Did they hurt you? Besides that bruise on your face?'

‘Uh, maybe I've got a cracked rib. One of ‘em kicked me when I was down.'

‘Tomorrow we'll get hold of Dr Rumsey. You're both going to need physical exams anyhow.'

‘Donnie ought to have that rib looked at, but I don't need a doctor. Mama, I don't like to be poked at.'

‘You don't have to like it, dear, but as long as you are under my roof, you do have to hold still for it when I think it is necessary. That is not open to argument. But you've met Dr Rumsey before. He delivered you, right in this bed.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. His father was our first family doctor, and the present Dr Rumsey has been my doctor since Alice Virgina was born, and he delivered both of you. His son has just finished his internship, so it could happen that his son will deliver your first baby. Because the Rumseys are Howards, too, and practically members of our family. What have Marian and your father told you about the Ira Howard Foundation?'

‘The Ira what?'

‘I've heard of it,' Donald told me. ‘But just barely. Dad told me to forget what I had heard and wait a couple of years.'

‘I think a couple of years have passed. Priscilla, how would you like to be sixteen, and you, Donald eighteen? Now, I mean. Not two years from now.'

‘Mama, what do you mean?'

I told them what the Foundation is, in a handful of words or less. ‘So a Howard often needs to adjust his birthday to keep from being noticed. We'll discuss it further in the morning; I'm going back to bed. Mama needs the rest - busy day tomorrow. Kiss me goodnight, dears - again.'

‘Yes, Mama. And I'll go back to my bed... and I'm sorry I worried you.'

‘We'll handle the worries. You needn't go back to your bed. Unless you want to.'

‘Really?'

‘Really truly. I do not believe in burning the horse after the barn has been stolen.' (If the first billion little wigglers did not shoot you down, dear, the next billion will never get close to the target. So enjoy it while you can - because, if you're pregnant, we'll have a whole new crop of worries. We haven't discussed the real, utterly practical reason to avoid incest... but you are going to have to have Old Granny Maureen's Horror Lecture on reinforced harmful recessives, the one I've been giving every little while for centuries, seems like.)

I'm not sure whether this is the frying pan or the fire. Not very many minutes ago I was sitting here in this jail, petting Pixel - he had been gone three days and I had been worried about him - and watching a stupid grope opera for lack of anything else to do, when a squad of spooks - well, four - robed and masked, came in, grabbed me, put their usual dog collar on me, and secured me by four leashes, then snapped them to rings in the walls instead of leading me away.

Pixel took one look at them and skittered away. Two of them, one on each side, started shaving the skin behind my ears.

‘What's going on?' I demanded. ‘May one ask?'

‘Hold still. This is for the electrodes. You have to be animated for the ceremony.'

‘What ceremony?'

‘After your trial and execution. Quit wiggling.'

So I wiggled harder and he back-handed me across the face, when four others carne in and suddenly the first four were dead and shoved under my cot. Then they unsnapped my leashes from the walls.

One said quietly, just above a whisper, ‘We're from the Committee for Aesthetic Deletions. Look scared and don't make it too easy for us to lead you out of here.'

Looking scared I could do, with no practice. They took me out into the corridor, on down and past the ‘courtroom' door, then a sharp left and through a freight door onto a loading dock, where I was shoved into a lorry and the door clanged shut. Then it opened again; somebody chucked in a cat. The door slammed shut and the lorry started up with a jerk. I fell down with a cat on top of me.

‘Is that you, Pixel?'

‘Mrrow!' (Don't be silly!)

We're still in the lorry and rolling. Now where was I? Oh, yes - I woke up early from a nightmare in which one of my sons was humping his sister and I was saying, ‘Dear, you really ought not to do that on the front lawn; the neighbours will notice - ‘when the dream woke me and I heaved a sigh of relief; it was just a dream. Then I realised that it had not been all that much a dream; the essence of it was too, too solid flesh - and came wide awake with a shot of adrenalin. Oh, Christ! Oh, Mary's drawers! Donald, did you knock up your sister? Children, I do want to help you... but, if you have let that happen, it won't be easy.

I got up and peed, and sat there and again heard the rhythmic music I had heard in the night... and it had the same effect on me; it turned me on. And I felt better as in all my life I have never been able to feel both horny and depressed at the same time. Had those kids been at it all night?

When the squeaks stopped, I flushed the pot, not having wanted to disturb them until they were through. Then I used the bidet, so that I would not start the day whiffing of rut. I brushed my teeth and gave my face and hair a lick and a promise.

I dug out of my wardrobe an old summer bathrobe of Patrick's that I had confiscated when I gave him a new one for his honeymoon. For Priscilla I found a wrap of mine. And one for me.

Then I tapped on their door. Priscilla called out, ‘Come in, Mama!' She sounded happy.

I opened the door and held out the robes. ‘Good morning, darlings. One for each of you. Breakfast in twenty minutes.'

Priscilla bounced out of bed and kissed me. Donald approached more slowly but did not seem much troubled at being caught in his skin by fierce old Mama. The room reeked even more than 1 remembered.

Something brushed past my legs - Her Serene Highness. She jumped up on the bed and started purring loudly. Priscilla said, ‘Mama, she bumped against the door last night, making a terrible racket, so I got up and let her in. She stayed with us a short while, then she jumped down, and demanded that I open the door again. So I did, and closed it behind her. It could not have been a half-hour before she was banging on the door again. This time I ignored her. Uh... we were busy.'

‘She resents closed doors,' I explained. ‘Any closed door. I leave mine ajar and she spent the rest of the night with me. Or most of it. Hmm - She's Susan's cat and you have Susan's room. Do you want to move? Otherwise she is likely to wake you at any hour.'

‘No, I'll just train Donnie to get up and hold the door for her.'

‘Now see here, Slugger -‘

I left.

I stirred up muffins and popped a Pyrex pan of them into the oven on a six -minute cycle. While the muffins were baking I set up baked eggs wrapped in bacon in another muffin pan. When the oven pinged, I transferred the muffins to the warmer, reset the cycle and put in the bacon and eggs. While they cooked, I poured orange juice and milk, and started the samovar to cycle. That left me time to set the breakfast table with happy mats and gaudy Mexican crockery - a cheerful table.

Priscilla appeared. ‘Donnie will be right down. May I help?'

‘Yes, dear. Go out into the back yard and cut some yellow roses for that bowl in the middle. Make it quick; I am about to serve the plates. Polly Down off that table! Take her with you, please. She knows better but she always crowds the limits.'

I served the plates and sat down just as Donald appeared. ‘May I help?'

‘Yes, you can keep the cat off the table.'

‘I mean, really help.'

‘You'll find that a full-time job.'

Thirty minutes later I was working on my second cup of tea while Priscilla served another pan of muffins and more bacon, and opened another jar of Knott's Berry Farm marmalade. I was feeling as contented as Princess Polly looked. When you come right down to it, children and cats are more fun than stocks, bonds, and other securities. I would get these two married (but not to each other!) and then it would be soon enough for Maureen, the Hetty Green of the fast new world, to tackle the Harriman empire, force it to stand and deliver. ‘Polly! Get out of that marmalade! Donald, you are supposed to be watching that cat.'

‘I am watching her, Mama. But she's faster than I am.'

‘And smarter.'

‘Who said that? Who said that? Slugger, you'll rue the day.'

‘Stop it, children. Time we talked about the Howard Foundation.'

Quite a while later Donald said, ‘Let me get this straight. You're saying that I have to marry a girl on my list and Priss has to marry a man on her list?'

‘No, no, no! Nothing of the sort. Nobody has to marry anybody. If you do marry, it will be your own free choice and it need not be another Howard. There is just one marriage you can't make and that is to each other. Oh, you could marry each other; there are thousands of incestuous marriages in this country - so some Kinseys have calculated. You could do it by cutting out on your own again, supporting yourselves somewhere else and somehow until you both look old enough to convince a county cerk that you are over twenty one. You could do that and I would make no effort to stop you.

‘But I would not help you. Not a thin dime. I'm not going to try to give you a course in genetics this morning, but I will later. Just let it stand for the moment that close incest isn't just against the Bible, and against the laws of Missouri and all the other fifty-five states, it's against natural laws because it makes unhealthy babies:

‘I know that. But I could get a vasectomy.'

‘So you could. What are you going to use for money? I certainly won't pay for it! Donald, I bate to hear you talk that way. I would rather pay to have your eyes removed than see you submit to sterilisation. You are here not only to live your life but to pass that life along. Your genes are very special; that is why the Foundation will subsidise any offspring of yours that you share with a female Howard. The same applies to you, Priscilla; you both have the genes for long life. Barring accidents, each of you will live to be more than a hundred. How much more we can't tell but it has been stretching longer each generation.

‘Now here is how the Howard Fouudation system works. If you ask for it, the Foundation will supply each of you with a list of Howard eligibles near your age, while your name and address will be supplied to each person on your list. When I was young, it used to be eligibles close by, say fifty or a hundred miles or inside one state. Today, with glide rockets spanning North America in thirty minutes and everybody moving around like disturbed ants, you can elect to have your name supplied to every bachelor or spinster Howard in North America if you like and get back a list like a phone book. Not quite true; I understand that they dole them out a couple of dozen at a time, grouped geographically... but you can go on shopping until you find the man - or woman - with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.'

I continued, ‘just one thing. When you date another Howard, while it can be fun, it is dead serious, too. You'll be looking him over as a prospective husband, Priscilla. If he is utterly impossible, for any reason or none, you must tell him so and tell him not to come back... or tell me and I'll tell him so. But if he appeals to you and better acquaintance causes you to think of him as a possible husband, then it's time to take him to bed. Right here at home and I'll arrange things so that you can do so comfortably and without embarrassment'

‘Wait a minute! Make love to somebody else? With Donnie right upstairs and knowing what I'm doing?'

‘No. One - Donnie is not likely to be upstairs. He is likely to be at the home of a girl on his list. Two - nobody is urging you to have intercourse with anyone. That is strictly, totally, and utterly up to you. I am saying only that if he is a young man whose name has been sent to you by Uncle Justin, and you decide you want to try him, you can do so safely at home... and if, after sober consideration, you and he decide to marry, then you can get pregnant right at home. Howard brides are almost always pregnant - always, so far as I know - because it would be sad indeed to marry a man and discover, too late, that you and he are not fertile together. Oh, divorce is easy today... but it is better to have a seven-month, seven-pound baby than to have a divorce before you are twenty.'

I added, ‘You're going to have plenty of time to think about it. I want to check on some basics today. Priscilla, will you stand up and take off your wrap? We can ask Donald to leave the room if you wish. I want to guess how old you are, biologically.'

‘I'll go upstairs, Slugger.'

‘Don't be silly. You've seen me before and Mama knows you slept with me last night' My daughter stood up, took off my wrap, hung it on her chair. ‘Any special way, Mama?'

‘No.' No baby fat left that I could see and hers was not a baby face. A young woman, physically mature, functioning as such and enjoying it. Well, we'll get an expert opinion from Dr Rumsey. ‘Priscilla, it seems to me that you look about the way I did at seventeen. We will see what Dr Rumsey says. For the sooner you start shopping your Howard list, the sounder I will sleep.'

I turned to my son. I'm sure you can be listed as eighteen, Donald, if you wish, and receive a list of eligible girls. And - I may be prejudiced; you're my son - but it is my guess that you can spend the next couple of years, if you choose to, travelling around the country, meeting Howard couples, eating at their tables and sleeping with their daughters - a different bed mate every week, until you find the right one. That programme would be safest for your sister.'

‘Mama! What a nasty ideal Donnie! You wouldn't! Would you?'

‘Son, don't make any promises you can't keep.'