Chapter 38 #6
“Lechery, drunkenness, disturbing the peace, and something called unnatural acts, or something like that.” I waited to hear if she’d learned about Rory and his inclinations, but she went on, “I haven’t had a chance to ask if those are serious charges or just things they added because they’re so livid Rory hit the officer with his car. ”
“What can I do for you, Franny? Do you want me to call Mrs. Tartt and tell her?” That probably wasn’t a conversation Frances wanted to have.
“I spoke to her right before I called you, and honestly, she’s just relieved he’s not dead.
She had her lawyer, Harry Holtzman, telephone me and he said there’s no point in Viktoria coming to Biloxi until the judge sets a bail hearing, so she’s staying in Jackson.
I’ll tell you what, though, I don’t like how they’re treating him, Birdie.
” Her voice rose. “They could at least let me bring him some fresh clothes. You know how Rory is about his clothes. Or bring him something decent to eat—he’s sitting in that filthy cell all alone, eating jail food. ”
“So you saw him?” I didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to me. “What … did he say?”
“He was humiliated. And still drunk. I got the feeling he, I don’t know, wanted to get caught? Like he wanted it to be over, this running and hiding?”
Do not feel sorry for that scoundrel, I wanted to tell her. But I knew Frances didn’t want to hear that. Gently as I could, I asked, “Does he have anything left, Franny? Did he have any money or the jewelry—did he sell anything?”
“He had about forty dollars on him, and the Studebaker’s been impounded, but I don’t know about the rest of our things. If he has more money than that, it’ll have to go towards a lawyer and making bail.”
I almost growled at the thought that Rory could cost them anything more than he already had, but I could hear how truly exhausted Frances was.
I felt sick with guilt—if I had told her sooner that he was in Biloxi, could I have spared Frances from this?
“Do you want me to come down there, Franny? I can come down. Charlie can run things without me, just say so.”
“No,” she said. “I need to handle this on my own. He’s my husband.
” She surprised me with that. Maybe Frances had learned something in all this mess.
“I don’t know when I’ll be home. Mr. Holtzman said it could be a week, maybe more before Rory’s released on bail.
If we can even afford it.” A week, maybe more. Guiltily, I thought, Good.
“Let me know if you change your mind. I know this is hard but I’m proud of you, Franny.” This wasn’t over yet, though—she still had one more punch coming—but I meant it when I said, “Rory is very, very lucky to have you, Frances.”
“Thank you, Bird.” Her breath trembled again. “I know this call’s probably costing a fortune.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll wire some money to you in Biloxi tomorrow. And call me”—Ruby would just have to learn—“whenever you need to, reverse the charges.”
She was quiet. Then she whispered into the receiver, “They beat him, Birdie, the police, they called him a—awful names. They wrote it in the police report.”
I could hear a train horn blowing in the distance on her end. “I’m sorry. I’m here for whatever you need. I love you, Sister.”
“Love you too, Bird.”
Later that afternoon, while the girls took turns being tested in the cellar, I sat in the front sitting room, quiet, empty but for the smelly settee and a few of Frances’s Good Housekeepings.
One was open to a photo of a man gazing at a woman with the most perfect upturned nose I’d ever seen that wasn’t on a dog.
Flossy liked to slip in here and read them, and if anybody walked in and saw her, she’d shut the magazine quick and start filing her fingernails.
I understood. There was nothing more mortifying than somebody catching you hoping for something they thought you didn’t deserve.
But I thought about how inappropriate it was that Rory’d given Frances these magazines with pictures of happy wives, when what Rory wanted, I mean truly wanted, Frances could never give him.
Not that I could give Jack what he wanted either.
And here I’d thought my sister and I were so different.
Don’t wait around to see if this man rejects you for what you can’t give him, Virginia’d said. Do what you want to do, Birdie.
I didn’t know what that was, but I sure did know I didn’t want to live like Frances, trying every day to make up for what I wasn’t.
And I had some money of my own now, which meant I had some freedom.
And though I knew keeping the club open was very risky, the more money we made, the more freedom I’d have. I might never have that chance again.
I’d known Jack one month and already I was tired of feeling like I wasn’t enough. I sat down and wrote him a letter and told him the truth, that I couldn’t have children. I told him that I didn’t think we were right for each other. With a heavy heart, I closed that door.
After this, I had no idea where I’d belong in the world.
“Jeez Louise, look at these roots,” Flossy said, peering into the bathroom mirror. “I gotta go to town and get some number eight.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said. I’d been holding on to the letter I’d written to Jack for two days now and I wanted to get it out of my hands.
And then everybody wanted to go to town, except Charlie, who lectured everybody to dress like the most ordinary ordinaries this town had ever seen.
Flossy came downstairs dressed as everyone’s favorite volunteer in Frances’s industrious green dress with all the pockets—Jesus, Frances was gonna kill me.
Actually Frances was gonna kill me when she realized I’d opened a brothel and then she’d spit on my grave for letting the prostitutes wear her clothes.
And let’s not forget what happened to the little pillow either, the one Mama’d sewn for Frances and I’d brought on the train.
I’d recently discovered that Flossy liked to use it under her knees while she performed her specialty.
“I find the message cheery. ‘Home is where the heart is.’ Comforts the heart, pads the knees.”
“I want everybody back here in an hour,” Charlie said. “And be careful who you talk to.” Lord knows, I agreed.
As we filed out to the car, Trixie said, “Darn. I was hoping to go see a picture show.”
“If I’d a known they were gonna start doing talkies,” Dixie said, “I’d a never wasted all that time learning to read.”
As Esmeralda circled the square in a drizzle of rain, I watched the reflection of the black Pierce-Arrow ripple in the windows of the bank where Jack had worked.
I shuddered, thinking about the letter in my pocketbook, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice.
Flossy patted my hand, not asking, just sensing.
Only a smattering of folks were out on a wet Friday before lunch, though the rain was already starting to clear.
As the six of us got out of the car and moved toward the square, I couldn’t help but think, Here we are, world.
Just me and five prostitutes, strolling around.
In front, Ruby led with her bosoms the way a man led with his cane.
Except for a nod from Mr. Fudge in the door of City Grocery and Blind Jim who said, “Mawning, Birdie”—I didn’t know how he knew—nobody paid us much mind.
Flossy must’ve had her antennae up too. “I do believe we are incognito, ladies,” she said.
As we approached Old Miss Rondo begging with her peach can on the corner, Dixie asked, “What’s wrong with that woman up there?
She crazy or something?” Miss Rondo had sat herself down right on the wet walkway, legs splaying out from her dingy pink chiffon dress, her hair its usual furious rat’s nest.
“Misinformed’s what she is,” said Ruby, who was in Mrs. Tartt’s navy-blue suit. “Somebody taught her it’s either too valuable to sell or it ain’t worth selling at all.” I thought about that. Ruby could be right profound when she wasn’t looking to stab you in the neck.
Flossy went into the drugstore with Ruby behind her, sending sleigh bells shrieking. The twins went into the dime store, and Esmeralda sort of evaporated into Ruth’s Dress Shop.
As I walked toward the post office, I saw half a dozen signs stuck in the courthouse grass that read: Mississippi don’t repeal!
and Keep M’ssippi straight. Dry since 1908!
In smaller print, the signs said Sponsored by the Anti-Vice League of Mississippi.
Seconds later, I saw orphanage volunteers Patsy somebody and another one sticking the signs into the ground and Pripp standing up on the steps of the courthouse with Garnett Pittman beside her.
My heart double thumped. I watched as the four ladies met up on the courthouse steps.
The three peons were all nodding up at Garnett, probably saying, Please, Chairlady, tell us what to think.
If Frances were here, she’d be chiming right in.
I thought about how Meg had told me that Garnett had once belted her so hard in that hot little closet that the witch had lost her breath and vomited.
Watching Garnett preaching her pious baloney, I felt a warm, criminal thrill.
You have no idea what we’re doing right under your hypocrite nose.
And if it’s up to me, you will never, ever get your hands on Meg again.
I didn’t know if that was true, but right then, I felt like believing whatever I damn well pleased.