Landry 02 Pearl in the Mist (35 page)

"These bathrooms never looked so good come Monday morning," he told me.
He was right. Once I realized I couldn't get out of the penalty without causing even more of a problem, I decided to attack it with enthusiasm. It made it bearable. I took out stains that were seemingly embedded, and I got the mirrors so shiny that there wasn't the smallest smudge on the glass. On my third Saturday, however, I found that someone had stuffed the toilets in one of the bathrooms and flushed and flushed so the water would run over the floors. It was a disgusting mess and Mr. Hull came in to assist me, mopping up first. Even so, the stench got to me, and I had to get some fresh air to stop from throwing up my supper.
Two days later, I woke up very nauseous and had to run into the bathroom to throw up. I thought I had a terrible stomach virus or had been poisoned by the cleaning fluids I had to dip my hands into to clean the bathrooms properly. When the nausea came over me again that afternoon, I asked to be excused from class and went to the school infirmary.
Mrs. Miller, our school nurse, sat me down and asked me to describe all my symptoms. She looked very concerned.
"I've been more tired than usual," I admitted when she inquired about my energy.
"Have you noticed yourself going to the bathroom more frequently to urinate?"
I thought a moment. "Yes," I said. "I have."
She nodded. "What else?"
"I get dizzy once in a while, just be walking along and things start to spin on me."
"I see. I assume you keep track of your period," she said, "and at least have an approximate idea of when it should arrive."
My heart stopped.
"You've missed one?" she asked quickly when she saw the look on my face.
"Yes, but . . . that's happened to me
occasionally before."
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately and noticed any changes in your body, especially your breasts?" she asked.
I had noticed tiny new blood vessels, but I told her I thought that was because I was still developing. She shook her head.
"You're about as developed as you're going to be," she said. "I'm afraid it sounds like you're pregnant, Ruby," she declared. "Only you know if that's a possibility. Is it?"
I felt as if she had dowsed me with a pail of ice water. For a moment my whole body became numb, and the muscles in my face wouldn't work. I couldn't reply. I didn't think my heart was even beating. It was as if I had turned to stone right before her eyes. "Ruby?" she asked again.
And I just started to cry.
"Oh dear," she said. "You poor dear."
She put her arm around me and led me to one of the cots. She told me to lie down and rest. I remember that as I lay there burying myself with a mountain of self-pity, hating Fate, cursing Destiny, I wondered why love was made to be so wonderful if it could put me in such a state of affairs. It seemed like a cruel joke had been played on me, but of course, I had no one to blame but myself. I didn't even blame Beau, knowing somehow that I had had the power to say no, to turn him away, but had chosen not to do so.
A little while later, after my crying had subsided, Mrs. Miller pulled up a chair beside me and sat down.
"We'll have to inform your family," she said. "This is a very personal problem, and you and your family will have to make some important decisions."
"Please," I said, seizing her hand, "don't tell anyone."
"I won't tell anyone but your family and, of course, Mrs. Ironwood."
"No, please. I don't want anyone to know just yet."
"I can't do that. It's too much of a responsibility, dear. Surely after the initial shock, your family will give you support, and you and your family will make the right decisions."
"Decisions?" There seemed to be only one decision--suicide, or at least running away.
"Whether to have the baby, to have an abortion, to inform the father. . . decisions. So you see, there's too much responsibility for us to keep it a secret. Others have to know. If we didn't tell them, we would be remiss. I would be irresponsible and certainly held to account. The least that would happen is I would be fired."
"Oh, I don't want that, Mrs. Miller. I'm already responsible for one person losing her job here. I don't want another person on my conscience. Of course, do what you have to do and don't worry about me," I said.
"Now, now, dear. We'll still worry about you. Other girls have been in this predicament, you know. It's not the end of the world, although it might seem so to you right now." She smiled. "You'll be all right," she promised, patting my hand. "Just rest. do what has to be done and do it discreetly."
She left and I lay there, hoping the ceiling would fall in on me and cursing the day I had decided to leave the bayou.
Nearly an hour later, Mrs. Ironwood arrived with Mrs. Miller to inform me that Daphne was sending the limousine for me. I could se the glint of self-satisfaction in her eyes as she spoke.
"Get yourself together and go back to the dorm. Pack your things, all your things. You won't be coming back to Greenwood," she commanded.
"At least there's one good thing to come of this," I said.
She turned bright crimson and hoisted her shoulders. "I'm not surprised. It was only a matter of time before you destroyed yourself. Your sort always does," she snapped, then left before I could reply.
I didn't care anymore anyway. Ironically, Gisselle had been right: Greenwood was a horrible place as long as that woman ran and administered it. I left the building and returned to the dorm to complete my packing. I had most of it done by midday, when Gisselle came running over during the lunch hour. She burst into the quad screaming my name. When she saw my suitcases packed, my closet and dresser drawers emptied, her mouth dropped.
"What's going on?" she demanded, and I told her. For once, she was speechless. She sat on my bed.
"What are you going to do?"
"What can I do? I'm going home. The limousine should be here shortly."
"But that's not fair. I'll be left here all alone."
"All alone? You have the other girls, and you never wanted to do things with me anyway, Gisselle. We're sisters, but up here we were strangers most of the time."
"I'm not staying here. I won't," she insisted.
"That's between you and Daphne," I said.
She went fuming out of my room to make her phone call, but she didn't return to pack her things, so I imagined Daphne had denied her request. At least for now.
Half an hour later Mrs. Penny, her face sallow, came to inform me that the limousine had arrived, She was sincerely sad for me, and she helped me carry some of my things out to the car.
"I'm very disappointed in you," she said. "And so is Mrs. Ironwood."
"Mrs. Ironwood is not disappointed, Mrs. Penny. You work for an ogre. Someday you'll admit that to yourself and then you'll leave too."
"Leave?" She looked like she would laugh. "But where would I go?"
"Anyplace where people aren't hypocritical and mean to each other, where you're not judged on the basis of your bank account, where nice and talented people like Miss Stevens aren't persecuted for being honest and caring."
She stared at me a moment, and then with her face as serious as I had ever seen it, she said, "There isn't any such place, but if you find it, send me a postcard and tell me how to get there."
She left me and walked back to the dorm to return to her duties as the surrogate mother for all of these girls. I got into the limousine and we drove away.
And I never looked back.
.
Edgar came out and helped the driver carry all my things up to my room when I arrived. He informed me that Daphne wasn't home.
"But madame asked that you remain in the house and speak to no one until she returns," he said. I wondered if he knew why I had come back. He knew it was something terrible, but he didn't reveal whether he knew any details. Nina was another story. She took one look at me when I entered the kitchen to greet her and said, "You be with child, girl."
"Daphne told you."
"She be ranting and raving so loud, even the dead in ovens over at St. Louis Cemetery musta heard her. Then she come in here and told me herself."
"It's my fault, Nina."
"It takes two to make baby magic," she said. "It ain't be your only fault."
"Oh Nina, what am I going to do? I not only make mistakes that ruin my own life, I make the kind that ruin other people's lives too."
"Someone powerful put a fix on you. None of Nina's good gris-gris stop it," she said thoughtfully. "You best go to church and ask St. Michael for help. He be the one who help you conquer your enemies," she advised.
We heard the front door open and close and then the sound of Daphne's heels clicking down the corridor sharply. This was followed by Edgar's arrival.
"Madame Dumas is here, mademoiselle. She wants to see you in the office," he told me.
"I'd rather see the devil," I muttered.
Nina's eyes widened with fear.
"You say that no more, hear? Papa La Bas, he got big ears."
I went to the office. Daphne was behind the desk on the telephone. She raised her eyebrows when I appeared and nodded toward the chair in front of the desk while she kept talking.
"She's home now, John. I can send her up immediately. I am relying on your discretion. Of course. I appreciate that. Thank you."
She cradled the phone slowly and sat back. To my surprise, she shook her head slowly and smiled.
"I must be honest," she began. "I always expected I would be sitting here confronting Gisselle in this situation, not you. Despite your background, you gave both me and your father the impression that you were the more sensible one, wiser, certainly more intelligent.
"But," she continued, "as you now know, being more book smart doesn't make you a better person, does it?"
I tried to swallow but couldn't.
"How ironic. I, who had every right to bear a child, who could provide the best for him or her, was unable to conceive, and you, like some rabbit, just go and make a baby with your boyfriend as nonchalantly as you would eat a meal or take a walk. You're always talking about how unfair this is and unfair that is. Well, how do you like the hand I've been dealt? And then, like salt on a wound, I have to have you enter this house, become part of this family, and confront you with child when you have no right to be pregnant."
^-
"I didn't mean it to happen," I said.
She threw her head back and laughed.
"How many times since Eve conceived Cain and Abel have women uttered that stupid sentence?" Her eyes became dark slits. "What did you think would happen? You thought you could be as hot as a goat or a monkey and make your boyfriend that hot and not ever pay the consequences? Did you think you were me?"
"No, but . . ."
"Forget the buts," she said. "The damage, as they say, has been done. And now, like always, it's left to me to right the wrong, correct and fix things. It was the same when your father was alive, believe me.
"The limousine is outside," she continued. "The driver has his instructions. You don't need anything. Just go out and get into the car," she commanded.
"Where am I going?"
She stared a moment.
"A friend of mine who's a doctor is at a clinic outside the city. He's expecting you. He will perform an abortion and, barring any unforeseen
complications, send you directly home. You'll spend a few days recuperating upstairs and then you'll return to public school here. I've already begun to concoct a cover story. The death of your father has left you so depressed you can't continue away from home. Lately you've been walking around here with a long face all the time. People will accept it."
"But . ."
"I told you--there are no buts. Now don't keep the doctor waiting. He's doing me a very delicate favor."
I stood up.
"One other thing," she added. "Don't bother to call Beau Andreas. I've just come from his home. His parents are about as upset with him as I am with you and have decided to send him away for the remainder of the school year."
"Away? Where?"
"Far away," she said. "To live with relatives and go to school in France."
"France!"
"That's correct. I think he's grateful that's the only punishment he's to endure. If he should ever speak to you or write to you and his parents find out, he will be disinherited. So if you want to destroy him too, try to contact him.
"Now go," she added with a tired voice. "This is the first and the last time I will cover up your faux pas. From here on in, you alone will suffer for whatever indiscretions you commit. Go!" she ordered, pointing her arm toward the door, her long forefinger jabbing the air. It felt as if she had jabbed it into my heart.
I turned and walked out. Without pausing, I left the house and got into the limousine. I never felt more confused or more lost. Events seemed to be carrying me along on their own. I was like someone who had lost all choice. It was as if a strong current had come streaming down the bayou canal, whisking me away in my pirogue, and no matter how I tried to pole myself in another direction, I couldn't. I could only sit back and let the water carry me to the predetermined end.
I closed my eyes and didn't open them again until the driver said, "We're here, mademoiselle."
We must have driven for at least half an hour or so and now we were in some small town in which all the stores were closed. Knowing Daphne, I had expected to be brought to an expensive-looking modern hospital, but the limousine pulled up behind a dark, dilapidated building. It didn't look like a clinic, or even a doctor's office.
"Are we at the right place?" I asked.
"It's where I was told to bring you," the driver said. He got out and opened the rear door. I stepped out slowly. The back door of the building squeaked open and a heavy woman with hair the color and texture of a kitchen scrubpad looked out.
"This way," she commanded. "Quickly."
As I drew closer, I saw she wore a nurse's uniform. She had roller-pin forearms and very wide hips that made it look like her upper body had been added as an afterthought. There was a mole on her chin with some hairs curling up around it. Her thick lips tightened with impatience.
"Hurry up," she snapped.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Where do you think you are?" she replied, stepping back for me to enter. I did so cautiously. The rear entryway opened to a long, dimly lit corridor with walls of faded yellow. The floor looked scuffed and dirty.
"This is a . . . clinic?" I asked.
"It's the doctor's office," she said. "Go in the first door on the right. The doctor will be right with you."
She marched ahead of me and disappeared into another room on the left. I opened the door of the first room on the right and saw an examination table with stirrups. There was a sheet of tissue paper over the table. On the right was a metal table, and on that was a tray of instruments. There was a sink against the far wall with what looked like previously used