Deaths of Jocasta (31 page)

“I love you,” I suddenly said. And if she hadn’t been holding me, I probably would have jumped up and ran. “I mean,” I qualified. “I care about you. I guess I love you, but…well, like a friend. I mean…oh, hell, I don’t know what I mean. I guess I mean what I said,” I finally finished, disconcerted and flustered.

“It’s okay, Micky. I love you, too,” Joanne stated simply. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes, I will,” I replied. Then, “Joanne? What happened?”

She tensed in my arms, then slowly lifted her head off my shoulders and looked at me. “Your cousin molested you, didn’t he?” she asked.

I had to look away from her before I could answer. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

She reached for me, turning my face until our eyes met. “What happened? Can you talk about it? Have you ever?”

“No,” I said slowly, answering the last question. “I never have.”

“Why not?”

“Not that important,” I shrugged.

“Just important enough to have never mentioned to anyone.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied, hearing my voice shake. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No?”

“No. He just put a gun to my head and made me give him a blow job. I didn’t think he’d really pull the trigger, but…” My voice broke. “It wasn’t really that bad,” I got out. “Only a couple of times…” I started crying.

“Goddamn him!” Joanne spat out. “How’d he get a gun?”

“Uncle Claude kept it around in case of burglars. But their house was never broken into. I guess because of that gun,” I said caustically.

“Don’t say it wasn’t bad. Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t shrug it off like it didn’t happen. Because if it didn’t happen to you, then it didn’t happen to me and it’s not happening now.”

I remembered the leer on Bayard’s face when he said, “Let’s go to my room. I want to show you something.” I pounded the mattress. I think I hit Joanne in the thigh, but she didn’t say anything, just held me closer.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured to me. My fury subsided into uncontrollable crying.

I finally lifted my head, wiped my tears with my forearm, then used a corner of the sheet.

Joanne said, “Lie next to me.” She kissed me on the forehead as I curled against her.

She sighed and I felt the tension in her body as she said, “It was my father.” Her voice was soft, low. “Dad worked on the oil rigs out of Morgan City. He kept a small apartment there. My mother would meet him, to go drinking or whatever. They had a rocky marriage. She would leave him and us kids would stay with him.”

“How many kids?”

“Me. Tim and Tom, the twins. And Susie, my younger sister.”

“You the oldest?”

“Yeah. When I was ten, he started being nice to me, letting me do things the other kids couldn’t, stay up late, get a Coke. He wanted to be my friend, he said.” Her voice didn’t betray it, but her hand jerked, only slowly releasing as she continued talking. “He let me stay in his apartment with him, while the other kids were left in the room over the garage. One night…one night, he came into my room and told me that friends did things for each other. Sometimes they hurt, but real friends didn’t mind.”

“Oh, shit,” I said.

“Yeah. Shit. He raped me.”

“Joanne. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know that you could call it rape. I didn’t say no. I didn’t say anything. I wanted to be his friend. I didn’t do anything to stop him.”

“How could you?” I burst out. “How the fuck could you? Joanne, how could you even know what was happening? What the hell did you know about sex at that age?”

“Not much. Not enough to keep from getting pregnant.”

“What?” I burst out again.

“Fourteen and pregnant by my father.” Her hand tightened again.

“When I told him…that I thought I was pregnant, he denied it,” she said bitterly. “He said he knew what kind of slut I was. He’d seen the way I went after men. But he offered, since he was a friend,” she spat the word out, “to help me take care of it. If I didn’t tell anyone, he would take care of it.”

“Abortion wasn’t legal then, was it?” I asked, doing some quick arithmetic.

“No. It wasn’t. He called a week later, giving me an address and a time to be there. Since it wasn’t his, he wasn’t going to go with me. I had to learn to be a big girl and clean up my own messes.”

“Oh, Joanne…” I said.

“It was a back street. A dingy, ugly building on a back street. I remember getting on the table and feeling something wet under me, like they hadn’t cleaned it very well from the last person. Last woman. We were all women. There was one big, bright light that he focused between my legs. I remember that light…and the pain. God, it hurt. Then a curt dismissal, telling me to wear a sanitary napkin and to expect some blood. All those women with lowered eyes, cowering. The abortionist was a criminal. But we were criminals and sluts, too.

“I bled. And bled. I got home and snuck up the stairs to my room, hoping I would stop bleeding before my sister noticed. We shared the room.

“I guess I fell asleep. Or passed out. I woke to the sound of my sister screaming. I was lying in a pool of my own blood. My parents weren’t there. Bars, somewhere.

“One of the neighborhood women came over. I don’t remember whether Susie got her or she heard the screams. But I do remember some doctor in the emergency room saying an hour or two more and I would have bled to death.”

I instinctively tightened my arms about her, holding her close.

“For a long time afterward, I wished I had died.”

“No,” I said.

“Not now. Not anymore. But then…I couldn’t deny I’d had an abortion. There was no hiding that. My mother stormed into the hospital room, demanding to know who had done it. Gotten me pregnant. She never believed me. ‘No, of course it wasn’t your father. Now, tell us the truth.’ Over and over again. A few weeks ago, when she called, she asked me again. ‘You can tell me after all these years,’ she said. ‘It was Dad.’ ‘That old story again,’ she replied. Still not believing me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joanne.”

“Yeah, well…six months later, he tried again, like nothing had happened.”

“He raped you after…” I exploded.

“No. He put his hand up my dress, and I started screaming hysterically. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d had to. Of course, people came into the room. He just sadly shook his head, saying he didn’t know why I screamed. He’d been sitting reading.”

We lay still, holding each other.

“Joanne…I…thank you.”

“For what?” she replied, puzzled.

“For…telling me. And listening to me. It’s…consoling to know that…it happened to other people. Maybe I didn’t deserve it.”

“Goddamn it! Of course you didn’t. Don’t ever, ever think that,” she said fiercely.

“If someone I admire as much as you, someone as strong as you are…” I trailed off.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? Alex and maybe Cordelia and Danny, I’m not sure, got away, because the people who cared for them were decent. You and I got caught because we didn’t have decent people around us. A fucking crap shoot.”

“And if it’s not our fault, it’s not Alex’s fault that she got away.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t be angry at her because she didn’t have the shit beat out of her as a kid. I should be glad that someone got away.”

“Do you love her?” I asked.

“Yes,” Joanne replied. “Yes, I do. She’s put up with a lot of crap from me. I don’t know why she sticks around.”

“I do.”

“Did she really say she loves me?”

“Yes, she did. Go back to Alex.”

“You that anxious to get rid of me? Not that I blame you.”

“Hell, if it was just me…you could stay for a long time. But…”

“But?”

“But you and Alex have been together for a while…when I’ve seen the two of you together, you seem at ease and comfortable with each other. My edges aren’t just rough, they’re sharp. And…” I fumbled.
She loves you. After everything, she still loves you.
I didn’t know if I could be so loyal. “And besides, Cordelia would never forgive me if I stole you from Alex.”

“What does Cordelia’s forgiveness matter?” Joanne asked incisively.

“Oh, not much,” I hedged. Just the world.

“Uh-huh,” Joanne answered. Then in a serious tone, “Honesty’s not fun, is it? You’re not someone to get involved with lightly. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m sorry for the ways I’ve hurt you.”

“Yeah. Now, no more honesty. I can’t stomach any more.” Then I added, “What a novelty.”

“What?”

“You’re the first woman who’s ever left me before I left her,” I replied.

“Some accomplishment.”

“How about some sleep?”

“I guess it is rather late to head back contritely to Alex.”

“Yep. Good night, Joanne.” I turned out the light.

“Night, Mick,” she said tiredly. “Mick?”

“Uh?”

“I meant it. You are special. And, in some crazy way, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Joanne.”

When I woke, bright sunlight was streaming into the room. And a not very bright cat was clawing at the door and meowing dissonantly.

I jumped up to silence Hepplewhite and let Joanne sleep, but she stirred and sat up. Then she got up, hugged me as she went by, and stumbled to the bathroom. I heard the shower as I dumped some food in Hepplewhite’s direction. I sliced an apple and peeled an orange to provide something resembling breakfast.

I sat on my bed, nibbling a few slices of apple, waiting for Joanne to get out of the shower, trying to think of some clever and worldly way to say good-bye.

“Breakfast,” I said, pointing to the fruit as she entered the bedroom.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking an orange slice. “I used your toothbrush.”

“You’re allowed.”

She started to pick up her clothes.

“Joanne,” I said, suddenly not caring to be clever and worldly. “Do you think Alex would mind…?”

She turned to look at me. Fear of refusal made me falter.

“If?” Joanne prompted.

“If we…made love one more time?”

“No, I don’t think so. And even if she did, I still would.”

“Thank you.”

We made love very gently and slowly, a fitting farewell.

Then she got up and got dressed. One last lingering kiss and she was gone.

I took a shower, not because I needed to, but because it felt good. Then I put on some Bach and got dressed.

I knew I should feel noble and virtuous for bravely sending Joanne back to Alex, but I didn’t. I felt adrift, at loose ends. What had happened was what had to happen. I was okay. Sort of. Perhaps…bereft. But other than that, okay. Right.

I wondered what was happening with Cordelia. I debated getting the paper to read all about it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the local news version of her arrest. I was hoping that Danny would call and at least plug a few more of the basic holes. It wasn’t like her to not call.

There is nothing more aggravating than waiting for the phone to ring. I finally gave up and went out and got a paper. Front page stuff. I was right, I didn’t want to read the news version of it.

I finally decided, enough was enough. If Danny wasn’t going to call me, I would call her. I dialed her number.

“Hello?” Cordelia answered.

“Uh, hi, this is Micky,” I said, too nonplused to hang up. “How are you?”

“Okay.”

“Where are Danny and Elly?”

“They went out. Groceries and such, I believe. I just got up a little while ago.”

“Oh.”

“Alex called here last night looking for Joanne.”

“Oh,” I said again. “She called me, too.”

“Joanne wasn’t with you?”

“Well, yeah, at some point,” I admitted.

“Oh,” she replied. “Do you want to leave a message for Danny?” she asked shortly.

I almost said tell Elly the usual time and the usual place, but I didn’t think Cordelia would appreciate the humor.

“No, that’s okay. I was calling to find out how you were.”

“I’m fine.”

“So I gather. I did call Alex about feeding your cat,” I said, trying to put a good foot forward. Unfortunately it ended up in my mouth.

“I was just going to call her. Does she know Joanne’s okay yet?” Cordelia replied frostily.

“By this point, I should think so.”

“I’ll call her, anyway.”

“Don’t. I mean, Joanne’s there. She’s probably busy.”

“How do you know?” Then immediately, “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“Sure it is. You know all the other details. Why not this one, too,” I said sarcastically. “Joanne has regained her sanity and dumped me in favor of Alex.”

“Oh,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’m fine. You’re fine. Let’s leave it at that.”