Margarette (Violet) (13 page)

“Quiet, Maybel,” Mr. Gallager warns.

“Maybel does have a point, dear,” Mrs. Gallager
says. “Distractions… could be quite harmful at this time in his life.”

“What distractions?” Tommy asks.

“Why don’t you just say what you’re thinking? She’s
trash.” May says.

Margarette’s eyes open a little wider, but other
than that she doesn’t give any impression of how much the words cut through
her. “May, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I’ve heard plenty.”

“
Heard
secondhand doesn’t mean it’s true.”
She snaps without thinking it through.

“You’re saying you didn’t get caught having sex with
the entire football team?”

“What!” Tommy cries, appalled.

“The football team? Wow, last I heard it was just
Tommy,” Margarette says.
Oh, shit
. She said it.

The parents just stare, open-mouthed, and Tommy’s
nose reddens. But May continues, clearly angry at someone and taking it out on
Margarette. “What about some party where you got trashed and railed in a back
room by a few football players?”

Margarette looks at the older girl defiantly. She
is on the verge of losing it, and has to work hard to refrain from slapping
May. “I was with Tommy,” she says coldly.

Tommy also stares at his sister. “The school’s
full of liars. None of that’s true, May,” he says angrily.

Mrs. Gallager calls out, “I think I’ve had enough
of this.”

“None of it’s true? So Sharon’s not sleeping with
Mikey?” May goes on.

Tommy’s face contorts in obvious pain and dislike.
“You’re such a
bitch
,” he calls angrily.

Mrs. Gallager raises her voice. “Be quiet this
instant!”

“Oh, fine, he can sleep with a whore and it’s
fine. I have to hear about his escapades,” May says.

“I’m
not
a whore,” Margarette says through
gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah? How many people have you had sex with?
In the last month alone?”

Margarette looks around and everyone looks dismayed
at what they are hearing, but not one person tells May how rude and vulgar she
is being. Tommy’s head just shakes apologetically, in disbelief.

Frick it
.

“In my
life
I’ve only had sex with Tommy.
So that means this baby I’m carrying is
his
.”

Boom
.

Something goes off within Margarette, and she
feels she’s having a weird out of body experience, numb and drifting before
four pairs of baffled eyes. Their mouths are moving but she can’t hear what
they say over the crashing noises in her head. She sees them turn on each other
and point their index fingers, shake their heads, stagger on their feet, all in
slow motion. Sluggishly, their angry words reach Margarette’s ears and her
hushed brain converts them into sentences.

The mother is convinced it’s a story and is
determined to procure legal action to keep Margarette from spreading such
defamation. May suggests that
the slut
is pregnant but it’s someone
else’s child. The father has been trying to control the angry women but failing
miserably. Tommy alone is eerily silent. Margarette’s eyes lock with his for a
second; unable to classify his dazed stare as angry or wounded, she closes her
eyes to shut them all away.

Margarette can’t cry, but her eyes swim in unshed
tears behind her eyelids. She feels someone near her, but the volume in the
room makes it difficult to discern who. Opening her eyes again she sees Mr.
Gallager’s hand come down on her shoulder, and its owner demands that she go
with him. The room has fallen silent and Margarette fights not to look at their
faces, especially Tommy’s, so she complies.

***

Mr. Gallager’s office is on the second story and
is filled with old law books and financial tomes. In the center of the room is
a giant oak desk. The room smells of old cigars, as one might expect.

He directs Margarette to sit in a giant chair
across from his desk, and then he takes his seat.

A long silence passes.

“My son has had a myriad of failures in his life,”
Mr. Gallager finally begins. “I’m not sure if you’re the newest. I thought you
and I should have a nice quiet talk away from the drama outside. Maybe we can get
this straight.”

She is quiet, but nods with a twitch.

“Is your claim true?” he asks.

“I took a home pregnancy test, but I haven’t seen
a doctor.”

“So this could be a mistake.”

“It certainly is.” She looks away but doesn’t
lower her eyes.

“If it is indeed a child, how certain are you that
it’s Tommy’s?”

Her eyes return to the man in front of her.
“Completely.”

His expression turns cold, and with a deep breath
he continues. “His last girlfriend was beautiful. It doesn’t surprise me that
you are. Unfortunately, most women who have the luxury of beauty tend to lack
other things like common sense. How do you think this will end? Are you just as
vapid as the other girl?”

“Her name is Sharon and I’m
nothing
like
her,” Margarette says. “Everybody used to say they were the perfect couple.”
She elongates the
they
to imply that she and Tommy are not.

“So you know your competition,” Mr. Gallager says,
reclining back a little. “And you’re not terribly attached to my son.”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Tommy’s quite fond of you. I can’t change that. I
can only assume that you’ve allowed this to become public. That’s harmful to
the family.”

“You assume incorrectly. You four are the first to
know other than me,” she says with more than just a hint of disdain. After she
says it she remembers her mother, but doesn’t rectify to Mr. Gallager, as her
mother hardly counts. How sad that she forgot that conversation so quickly.
“You think I’m somehow happy about this? That I would run and tell the entire
town?”

“I didn’t mean to make assumptions,” he says. It
sounds like an apology, but the man isn’t apologizing. “I appreciate your
discretion. The way this town goes on… it
could
be harmful to the family.
I’m ready to do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening.”

“Do you think you have the power to make me
disappear?”

He smiles with certainty, but hints that he is open
to alternatives. “Some secrets are best hidden in the light.”

“It won’t take nine months for this secret to be
obvious.”

“You may not have been born in a desirable family,
but your strong physique may make you a worthy specimen to carry our name. In
fact, replacing your father’s name would probably be an incentive to you.”

Margarette almost laughs. The nerve of this man! “Is
it that hard to tell that I hate this? Why would I want to do any of that?”

“I partially agree. You may hate your situation,
but when a young woman at a social disadvantage says she intends to deny me…
well, that runs contrary to my experience. At bare minimum, at least your child
deserves better. Something better than what you have? You might feel different
about it if you start to give the idea a chance. Soon after you will be
convinced.”

“I generally try to avoid making choices that
limit my options. Not one person in your family is happy.”

“I am.”

“Then you must be the most selfish one of them
all,” she says, testing him.

“Perhaps.”

“And yet you don’t fix it?”

“I’m all but consumed by my work. This town needs
people like me to fix what’s broken here. Growth comes through pain, sacrifice
and hard work. As such I judiciously expend a great deal of effort, and also
neglect.”

“And
you’re
the happy one?” Margarette
raises an eyebrow.

“I enjoy the power of influence. I have everything
my father worked for and the ability to continue the family name. I have a
family that depends on me. That is who I am, that is who we are, and that is
what makes me happy.”

“What’s the value of your family when it hates
you?”

He makes a sound almost like a scoff. “This isn’t
about popularity. They will always follow me, no matter what you may think they
feel.”

“What I
think
? I thought you were smart.”

“I thought you were a harlot.”

“I’m done with you.” She stands up and starts to
turn around to leave.

“Suppose I want my grandchild to be born,” he
calls, making her pause.

“What you want makes no difference to me.”

“Please sit down.”

Margarette looks at him defiantly.

“Please,” he repeats, almost pleading. “I need to
tell you something.”

She returns to her previous seat.

“I don’t think that you are aware of May’s
limitations,” he says, “but she was probably more hurt by your comment than you
realize. She hasn’t been able to conceive for years, despite expensive
fertility treatments.”

Interesting
, Margarette thinks. The fact
that the father would tell Margarette that very personal information makes her
feel almost sorry for May. Almost.

She just stares at Mr. Gallager, choosing not to
say anything about what he just revealed.

“So you see, a healthy child of Tommy’s,
therefore, is of my utmost interest,” he continues. “We would give that child
the opportunity that you cannot provide. My family can take care of him.”

Him
? The son of a bitch already imagines a
little heir.

She crosses her arms. “I can take care of my own
child without your assistance.”

“Who’s being selfish now?”

“You don’t own me. You can own the town, but not
me or my child.”

“I hoped you would be smart enough to see the
opportunity that I’m offering. You need to understand how your life would be if
you fail to accept this gift.”

“Gifts come with strings.”

He chuckles. “You
are
smart. When can you
start?”

“Start what?”

“Come work for me, at the bank.”

“What?”

“You can see Tommy every day if you want. We can
say you two are together. Before you start to show we can have you both plan to
get married quickly. Half the people in the town can’t count months. Who knows
when you two got engaged?”

“That’s insane.”

Mr. Gallager’s tone becomes serious. “Maybe it is.
But the greater risk is on you. Your mother spent almost every dollar her
mother left her. Did you know that? Of course you did. You probably see the
mail more than she does. The power’s been cut off a few times. She doesn’t
work. How do you expect to raise a child on your own?”

“I’d ask how you found that out, but that would
only make you feel more important. I can take away your influence in an instant
by leaving.”

“You could, but… you’re much smarter than that.
Who would you really be hurting?”

After a guilty self-reflection and reluctant pause
to admit it, she sadly thinks,
Me and my baby
.

She nods.

“I can promise you many things, but most important
of all I can offer stability. Stability that you will very much crave if you go
your own way. But it depends greatly on how well you play along.”

“What happens when you have what you want?”

“Planning is a valuable skill. Who knows, by then
I might need you to stick around to keep Tommy in line.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Don’t worry about that dear, my expectations are
already low.”

“You don’t even know how I feel about Tommy.”

“I don’t think I need to. I’m convinced this could
work.” Mr. Gallager pulls open a drawer and removes a card, which he hands to
Margarette. She takes it reluctantly. “Here’s a card for our family’s doctor.
Dr. Johnny is a personal friend of mine, and he will be the starting point to
this agreement. See him promptly tomorrow morning.”

A “Dr. Johnny” in a small town could only mean one
doctor. Alice’s father Dr. Walker is apparently now expected to meet with
Margarette in the forthcoming day.

“I’m not sure you can ID the father at this stage.
That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She eyes the card with distaste.

“He will be thorough,” he says dismissively. “But
don’t hold it against me, dear. This child will be proven as a Gallager before
any of this sees the light of day.”

“There are many things that I am uncertain of, but
not that.” She stands up again, and he does as well.

“Take care of yourself, Miss….” He pauses as if he
has forgotten her name. “Margarette,” he rolls his tongue and finishes with a
smile as he stares deep into her eyes.

She walks out and her knees buckle in the hallway.
Her throat is dry and she feels like she has just sold her unborn child into a
life of servitude. She looks down and finds Tommy staring up at her from the bottom
of the stairs; his face bears no expression. While she was afraid earlier of
his reaction when he found out, now his lack of reaction annoys her. She is
disappointed in him for not standing up for her. He was on par with her life,
though. Life is constantly letting her down.

Behind her a voice echoes off the study walls. For
a moment it almost sounds southern. “Tommy, get in here,” calls his father.

Tommy slowly ascends the stairs to the second floor.
His eyes are on her the entire time, and they tell her how frightened he is; of
the news, of his father waiting in the study. With a pained glance, he passes
Margarette and enters the study, closing the door behind him.

Nobody told Margarette where to wait, so she moves
to the next room, which looks exactly like the living room. Or sitting room.
Who knows what terms these rich people use to label a place with chairs. She
sits down and after a minute feels eyes on her, and looks up.

May leans against the wide doorway, watching
Margarette like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse.

“You all done here?” May asks.

As coy as she can make it sound, Margarette
answers, “Sure am.”

“I’m glad Tommy dropped by before your little date.
Perhaps you can come back next week with a new surprise.”

Margarette chooses to ignore the girl, but the
girl does not wish to be ignored.

“So you finally got what you wanted?” May asks.

“I never wanted this.” She thinks of a million things
to say, but says none.

“What, you never wanted to ruin Tommy’s life? The
fact that you didn’t want it doesn’t change a thing.”

“What if I ran away? Would that make things
better?”

“Give up your lotto ticket? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t want to be with Tommy. He’s not my type.”

It’s true. She doesn’t like how forward he is with
her. He treats her with intimacy, as if they had been going out for years, yet
they barely know each other.

“Why don’t you want to be with Tommy? What, are
you a lesbian?” May smiles thinking she finally got to her.

“No. But I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind if I was.”

“
Harlot
,” May mutters, making a disgusted
face. Then she walks away.

Deciding that the living room is not safe, and
afraid of encountering Mrs. Gallager, Margarette retreats through the dark
checkered kitchen. She freezes in front of the back door, afraid to touch it,
hoping it would open on its own and let her escape. But the door does not open.
Her thoughts and fears cause a paralysis in her decision-making. She just slumps
down on the last stool in the kitchen and starts to cry.