Chapter 9
LIKE MOTHER LIKE DAUGHTER
On the second Monday after beginning with Mrs. Sinclair, Tom went to work completely exhausted. After the games, he stayed until four in the afternoon. They fucked almost the whole time.
But she came into the office looking refreshed and happy. Sated she was, now that she had a man again.
Tom was satisfied, too, that he had a 'woman.' He could depend on her. He could make love to her often-very often. For on Sunday as they had lain together, they had promised to see each other faithfully each weekend.
He had been slightly reluctant about making such a sweeping encompassing promise. After all, while he wanted to keep her for all-at least most-of his screwing, he surely did not want to live with her.
Besides, he told himself, she's got a fourteen-year-old kid. And the kid is always around. Especially, he added thoughtfully, when she's not wanted.
The week passed quietly-the usual routine. The next Friday evening he arrived at her house to take her out. Her daughter was there, with another boy.
The young man introduced himself as David. He winked at Tom when he found out from Velma that Tom was taking her mother to a movie.
Little bastard, Tom thought to himself, as he shook hands. Low-minded little cunt-fucker. The kids left at seven-thirty. As soon as they were out the door, Tom removed his jacket.
"What are you doin?" she asked.
"As long as the kids are away, we can fool around a bit."
Knowing what he wanted, she retreated at once to the bedroom and began stripping. Then she sucked on his cock until it stiffened. Finally, he penetrated her.
In about an hour, they were finished. They showered. She used a cap this time to preserve her hairdo. They dressed and left for the movies. But they only stayed for half an hour. The movie was boring and he wanted more sex.
Back at the apartment, she was surprised to see a light under Velma's door. She wanted to call into her daughter's room, but decided against it. Instead, she tiptoed over to the door.
Opening the door slightly, she saw her daughter with her panties down and David fingering her cunt. Although his cock was still in his pants, she saw the outline of it clearly.
Shocked, she managed to shriek, "Velma!"
Immediately the two of them jumped up and tried to hide. But she stood silently there, crimson of face, eyes blazing. When David tried to pass her, she grabbed him by the hair of his head, throwing him across the room. He landed back in the bedroom, his head thumped against the wooden post.
"Get out! You little bastard! Trying to molest my daughter. I'll call the police! I'll tell your parents! I'll send you to jail!" She ranted and raved hysterically as her daughter dressed herself.
"And you," she screamed, advancing on the shivering girl, "you cheap little whore. You tramp! You slut! I'll send you away where you can't flaunt your dirty little body before foul-minded little boys!"
She screamed accusations at them. Filled with the fears of condemnation and social disgrace and shame. Both of them cringed fearfully before her flailing tongue and ducked her sweeping arms.
Finally, worn out with emotional outbursts of fury and hate, she stomped out of the door. Going to Tom, she asked him to second her ravings. "Do you know what those children were doing in there?"
"I could take a guess." He knew. She went back to the door. He followed this time. Before, he had glanced in and had seen the innocent-for they were still children copying their elders-finger-fucking. Now he looked again. He was saddened to see two wizened little faces from which huge terrified eyes stared out. Now, he thought, they're not innocent anymore. Now they know the score.
Her anger, revitalized by the short respite, began again. While she raved, Tom withdrew again. He wondered about Velma. Hot little cunt, that one, he commented to himself.
He speculated on the possibilities of getting her alone and getting into her pants with his cock. He decided to try and convince her to let them stay together for a while longer.
But, he thought, she'd get wise. He knew, for all her self-pity and talk, she was no fool. At long last she grabbed David again. This time, when Velma interfered, Mrs. Sinclair threw her back and dragged the resisting boy to the front door. She threw him out and slammed the door in his face.
She re-crossed the room and went into her daughter's bedroom. She started to close the door, but Tom stopped her.
"Leave the kid alone. How can you expect her to ignore what we're doing. After all, she's fourteen now. I'll bet she's old enough to take care of herself."
"I'm sure she is," Mrs. Sinclair replied, glaring at him. "And when she's been married and widowed and she wants and needs sex, she'll have my blessings to get it in any way she can.
"But, until then, I'll strip her ass skinless if she tries any more of these stunts." With an emphatic slam, the door shut in his face. So he went back and sat down on the sofa.
Leaning forward, he turned on the television. But even the high voltage music and thundering hooves could not block out the sounds coming from Velma's room.
Tom knew the fourteen-year-old was getting the wailing of her life. Probably, he thought, with a two-inch belt. He remembered seeing something like that hanging from the wall as a decoration.
Well, he thought, maybe it was just as well. There could only be one of two outcomes. Either the kid would give up sex for a few years, or she would get extremely clever and not get caught again. Tom estimated that she would do the latter. He was proved to be correct.
Finally, the noise stopped. He thought he heard sobbing from behind the closed door. But he steadily kept his attention on the television, for he felt embarrassed at having intervened between mother and daughter.
The movie had just ended when he heard the soft rustle of the door opening across the pile carpeting. He turned. Mrs. Sinclair came out and closed the door behind her. She walked across to Tom.
"Well, I'm sure that that's taken care of."
He looked at her inquiringly.
"Tom," she said, sighing, "when you have a teenage daughter, you learn quickly that you must be firm at all times. Sometimes even violent. I'm sure that I don't want Velma making the same mistakes I have made.
"Fortunately, I was lucky. I found a man willing to marry me. She might not be so lucky. She could end up in the gutter!" Mrs. Sinclair closed her eyes for a long minute. Tom saw suppressed tears shining behind her lashes.
"Well, I guess I hadn't any right to cut in like that." He put his large hands on her shoulders. "Would you like to call it a night?" He could feel her shuddering with suppressed emotion.
Suddenly, she leaned forward and buried her head on his shoulder. Uncontrollable tears flooded her eyes and tiny sobs began deep within her throat, building into horrible wracking sobs-the only release of a desperate and lonely woman, trying to raise a teenage girl and keep both her daughter and herself fed, clothed, sheltered.
He held her in his arms until she had cried the hate, the fear, the self-pity out of her. At last, she stopped crying. Raising her head, she looked Tom straight in the eyes.
"Thank you, Tom. I guess I needed to do that. I haven't been able to cry for eight years. I haven't had a shoulder to cry on either."
As much as he wanted to screw her, he felt something else for his boss's secretary besides desire. He was beginning to genuinely like her. He did not-in fact, he could not-begin to analyze his feelings.
All he knew was that, although he wanted her desperately now, he did not want her this way.
He decided that he should try to get her to talk about the whole thing. "Come here, Alicia. Sit down. Start at the beginning." He helped her to the sofa. "That is," he added, "if you want to."
She did not say 'yes' or 'no.' She simply started talking.
Alicia del Gado, "Allie" to her new American girlfriends, was born Alicia Maria-Anna Tericia del Gandalano. Her family, of which she was one of ten children and many, many cousins, located both in Italy and immigrated to America, had always called her Maria-Anna.
Father Sebastian, her families' priest, had insisted on calling her Tericia, and all her teachers had 'Americanized' her first name to Alice. And then, when her father started teaching at the college, he had changed their last name to "del Gado" which was easier to pronounce and remember. He worked with Americans, anyway, and wanted to become 'American.' All through her childhood, she watched her father fight to become American. She watched him fail. Senora del Gandalano refused to learn English, in the first place. Alicia's mother had not wanted to leave Italy. But a good wife goes where her husband goes, so she came with him to America.
But she steadfastly remained Italian. She spoke only Italian to her husband and children, relatives and friends. All of her friends were Italians. She disapproved of any of her children making any friends who weren't Italian.
She actually pretended neither to hear nor to understand when her children or husband used English in her presence, although over the years she did come to understand the 'foreign' language.
She shopped exclusively at Italian stores with Italian speaking owners. She even changed churches three times because they had priests who were not Italian.
And although her husband was gone, working for most of the day, she was able to influence him enough to keep him Italian. She was less fortunate with her children. In fact, she failed completely and when Alicia was born at last, the last of her brood, Senora del Gato was too tired to try very hard.
Consequently, Alicia became Alice and liked it. She was proud of her heritage, but she was American. She thought, dressed and lived as an American girl, not as an Italian. Her morals were American, not Italian. And that was the beginning of Alicia's troubles.
Her mother was quite strict on one hand, but, on the other, she did not prepare her daughter for what she would find in the world. Alicia knew that letting boys touch her in certain places and in certain ways was sinful. But she did not know why or where the sin began.
When she was young-twelve or thirteen-she had feared her mother's tongue and strap enough to keep away from the 'evil boys' as her mother constantly described them.
But, in her fifteenth year, she began finding that boys were fascinating creatures. She learned from her girlfriends that boys were different from girls. They told her so, and they showed her why.
They also told her about the fun that they had in company with boys. Alicia's curiosity overcame her fears, and she agreed to a simple date with a boy she did not know.
Unfortunately, she could not tell her mother as she felt her mother would be most angry. So she arranged that she should be staying with her special friend, Marylou, who was also the one who had arranged the date.
Her mother approved of Marylou because, although she was 'American,' she was of Italian parents. And she realized that her daughter did need friends, so she compromised on the Italian background.
The night of this 'date,' Alicia and Marylou went to her house straight from school. Alicia called her mother on the phone, telling her that she had arrived safely. Her mother told her to be respectful to Marylou's parents and to help with the dishes.
Then she hung up for she was a busy woman whose children, although mostly grown and some married, came home to eat and sleep still. Each night of the week she had to cook and serve a dinner for at least twelve people.
And with all the washing, ironing and mending-not to mention the cleaning-she had little time to keep close tabs on this youngest daughter, the youngest by five years. So, she went on with the cooking and mending, never dreaming that Alicia was going out with one of those 'dirty boys.' The girls, close friends for several years, had few secrets from each other. Therefore, Marylou knew all about Alicia's mother's ideas on boyfriends and dates. She, herself, had been fortunate to have the kind of parents who were liberal, so she started dating early.
At thirteen, she had had her first sexual experience. Now she wanted to help Alicia learn about this wonderful thing. Hence, the secret date.
The girls ate dinner with Marylou's parents and then went quickly upstairs to dress for their dates. At seven o'clock, the two boys arrived. Marylou's boyfriend and his pal, Joey.
Mrs. Venusa, Marylou's mother, let the boys in and entertained them while the girls finished primping. Shortly, they came out and the four of them left with her blessings and admonitions of not being too late coming in.
"Well," Marylou said as they cleared the house, "that lets us off the hook for a few hours anyway. Where are we going tonight?" She turned to her boyfriend, Toby.
"Aw, I dunno. I guess we can go to the movies. There's a good one at the Dunhilt Drive-in. What you say, Joey?" he said turning to his friend, Joey Kluger man-also his second cousin.
"Yes," Joey replied, "I have heard that the movie is exceptional to the usual run of trash." Politely, he turned to Alicia, asking her opinion.
"Would you care to see it?"
"Oh, yes!" she breathed. Secretly, she had been dying to see the sensational movie. Some of her favorite stars were in it. "I'd love to!"
"Then it's settled," Toby said. "We'll drive you to your car, Joey."
Puzzled, Alicia did not say anything about the 'your car' statement. She was very shy with this strange, but polite, date she had. Besides, she thought Joey was Jewish. Her mother hated Jews.
Alicia and Joey got in the back of the car while Marylou and Toby got in front. The four drove off in silence. Going about four blocks and as many turns, they finally stopped beside a parked and vacant car.
Joey opened the door and helped Alicia out. "Even my mom," Marylou said, "wouldn't let me go out with just one boy alone. She always insists on a double date. So we solve our problems this way. See you back here at two o'clock?" Joey nodded.
It was not until they had driven off and Joey started the motor that Alicia realized he was nervous-as nervous as she was. He ground the gears, choked the motor at least twice. Then, finally, they moved. "Do you still want to go to the movies?" he asked her.
"Yes, please. I've wanted to see it for a long time. But my mother..." She stopped, embarrassed.
"But," he finished for her, "your mother doesn't want you to go because it's not innocent enough for you." He turned and looked at her. "Alicia, I have a confession. This is my first date with a girl. I really don't have any experience at all. If you want to go home or something, say so."
She smiled at him. He was making it easy. "It's my first date, too." Her hand crept across the seat to cover his. She squeezed slightly. He smiled.
"Friends?"
"Friends!"
They went to the movie. Sitting in the balcony area, they munched popcorn and drank cokes and commented on the acting ability and scenario effects of the various parts of the film.
Later, hand in hand, they went to an inexpensive restaurant and had a snack. Since there was still a couple of hours left, Joey proposed that they go driving. They did and saw some of the city at night. Both of them enjoyed themselves. And enjoyed being with each other.
At one-thirty, they were back at the rendezvous waiting for Marylou and Toby. They talked about trivia and he asked her for another date the next week. Alicia thought a while, biting her Hps. "I don't know if I can. Not that I don't want to," she added hastily.
"But my mother is very funny about boys. If he's not practically off the boat from Italy, then she finds something wrong with him. In fact, she doesn't seem to want me to date at all.
"She's often said that I would be a wonderful nun." She shuddered at the thought. "I can't see myself all wrapped up in long black cloth and such. I mean, she and I had such an argument about me taking my hems up last year.
"And now she's so glad that the clothes have gotten 'decent' as she says again. Personally, I hate that length. It's ugly."
He took her small clenched fist into his hand and gently opened the stiff fingers. "I have a similar problem. My mother-I'm Jewish-thinks the only girls I should date should be Jewish.
"At least once a month she has these visits from distant cousins bringing their marriageable daughters. It's like having cows to the fair. I'm supposed to look them over and choose one of them.
"We would go out together, get engaged and eventually married. I suppose that's how she and father did it. But I want the girl I choose, not the girl my parents choose."
He laughed. "It's funny, really. These girls, nice ones always, are uniformly ugly, uniformly talented. All of them learned to sew at their mother's knees, cook and entertain in the proper manner. All the necessary things. All the useful things.
"But I can't seem to make my mother understand that, while they're all fine girls, not one of them begins to turn me on. I haven't seen or talked to one of them that has had an original idea or said an original thing."
He squeezed her hand again. "That's what I want in a wife. A woman with a brain. A woman with a sense of humor. A living creature to whom I can turn, to whom I can talk to as a real person. Someone who is not just some cook-entertainer-childbearer-obedient showpiece doll. I want a real woman."
She looked at him shyly. "Am I real to you?"
"You certainly are. You've got a mind and you use it! Your comments about the movie were intelligent. You expressed your opinion as yours. You weren't trying to say what you thought I wanted to hear.
"You were polite, but firm. Your opinion was yours and that was that. I like that!" He stopped, nervously catching his breath. "So, can I see you again?"
"Yes, but we'll have to be careful. Both our mothers would kill us, it seems, if they knew." She laughed. "I guess I'll be spending lots of time with Marylou from now on. Maybe most Friday nights." They smiled at their mutual secret.
A pair of headlights crashed silently into their dark warmness of mutual liking, shattering the spell. "They're back," he said.
"Yes."
The car pulled over behind Joey's car and doused its lights. Something of their private mood returned. "Alicia, may I kiss you?"
Not answering, she put her face up to be kissed. He dabbed at her puckered lips with his own puckered ones. He did not attempt to put his arms around her or anything else. Just their lips met.
Then they got out of the car and went to the other one. Climbing into the back seat, they exchanged greetings. Marylou and Toby were fighting, as usual, and they carried the battle right to the front door.
Joey escorted Alicia to the door. He kissed her again and said good-night. She went inside, shortly followed by Marylou who was in a foul temper. She and Toby had parted fighting.
Once upstairs, Marylou began questioning Alicia. "Well, did you?"
"Did we what?"
"Did you do it?"
"Well, no. We went to the movie, went to dinner, and then we drove around a little. I like him and he wants to see me again."
"Oh, why didn't you do it?" She looked at Alicia and shook her head, sadly. "Here I set you up and you have to play kidstuff."
"Look, Marylou," she said, her anger showing, "we went out and we had fun. If he'd wanted to... " She stuttered over the new word, "fuck, well, we would have. But he didn't mention it. And we had a good time!"
She turned away defiantly and began undressing. Over her shoulder she added, "And if we ever want to fuck or suck or screw, we will. But we'll do it when we get around to it. Okay?"
Astonished, Marylou looked at her. Then going to her friend, she put her arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, honey. I guess Toby and I were fighting and I took it out on you. I really am sorry."
"That's okay, Marylou. I understand. Sometimes, mother and I fight like that about things. Sometimes it's bad and we're mad at each other for days and we don't even talk to each other." She turned around to face her friend. "You want to tell me why you and Toby fought?"
Marylou told her about Toby and that, although they were going steady, she had found out that he was cheating on her. They had fought about that. She said she loved him, but that he shouldn't fuck around on her.
She had threatened to return the favor. "That was what really got him mad. He thinks that it's okay for him, but not for me! The lousy bastard! And I love him so," she wailed. "Oh, how I love him. If I lost him, I'd kill myself."
Alicia took her friend in her arms and comforted her. This was something parents didn't understand. Often, she wondered why they couldn't understand love. Why, she thought, do they always call it 'infatuation' and 'puppy love' when it's love?
Just because they goofed, does that mean they want us to be miserable, too? And marry someone for his money or his background instead of because you loved him? She owned that she did not know the answers.
But she decided that she would see Joey again. She liked him, regardless of her mother's hates. She was going to see Joey again and again.
Later the girls fell asleep in each other's arms. They had discussed the whole thing until almost dawn. Exhausted, they slept until late.
For the rest of that year, and for the next two following, Alicia and Joey dated. They always talked and commented about things. Gradually, they fell in love. On her eighteenth birthday, he asked her to marry him. He was a year older and already had a year of college behind him. He had bought her a ring.
She accepted and told him she would tell her family soon. "I'm sure there's going to be a battle and a lot of screaming. Otherwise, I'd take you home right now. But first, I have to make them understand that I'm marrying you and not someone else."
"Well, will you come home with me then? I told mother when I got the ring. She yelled and screamed, too. But I was firm and said I'd leave home if she was nasty.
"She's given in. Not graciously, you understand. But she's going to accept you as a daughter. As much as I love her, I won't marry a stereotype of her."
So, they went to his parents' home. She was greeted well, if reservedly and cautiously, by his parents. But on the whole, it was a good visit.
They saw her as Joey saw her and not being strictly religious, had no serious objections to their son's engagement to his Italian-American girl. As his mother said to Alicia's face, "You aren't quite what I wanted, but you are nice. I like you. I know you'll make my son happy, and that's what I really want."
She had hugged her future mother-in-law, happy herself that it had gone so well. Happy for Joey and for his parents. Now, she thought, if only mine can be talked around.
Joey dropped her at her front door for the first time in their three years' of dating. She saw the curtains swinging back as she got out. She smiled. Momma's watching again, she thought. Standing erect, she blew him a kiss and turned resolutely to the door.
As she entered, closing the door against the spring chill, her mother assailed her in roiling Italian. "Where have you been? Who was that? What's happened to you? Where were you?"
She let her mother rave at her until she calmed down. Then she said, "Momma, if you'll sit and listen, I have something I want to tell you. Come into the living room where we can talk privately."
She ushered her mother into the little used room and they sat down facing each other across the sofas and the formal coffee table.
"Momma, promise me to be still until I finish?"
"Promise! Promise what? What..."
"Momma!" she cut across her mother's rising voice. "Do you want to hear, or don't you?" She waited. Her mother closed her mouth and nodded.
"All right then. Momma," she said smiling, "there is a young man. I love him." She held up her left hand. "He's asked me to marry him. We've been dating for three years." She held up the other hand palm forward.
"I know, you didn't know. You never would let me tell you. I was forced to he to you because you would have forbidden me to see him.
"I want to bring him home to meet you and Poppa and the family. I've met his family tonight. May I have him over for dinner soon?"
Her mother looked at her daughter and did not recognize her. She saw a lovely young woman-American woman-sitting across from her. This woman was not speaking Italian, but English.
Good English, correct English, she thought sadly. My baby is American and I did not stop it. Now, she continued, she's going to get married and I don't even know his name.
In Italian she asked, "Is he a good church-going, hard-working native boy?" She already knew, but she had to ask. Both women-for her daughter was a woman now-knew she meant 'Italian Catholic boy' when she said 'native' and 'church-going.' "Yes, Momma. He's a good boy. He goes to synagogue each Friday. He's on a scholarship at college. He loves me." Alicia waited for the explosion she knew would occur.
"Jewish! Synagogue! Never! I forbid it!"
Here we go, Alicia thought grimly to herself.
"You slut! You dirty woman! Out! Get out of this god-fearing house before you lead any other good people astray!" And she came to her feet, throwing herself at her daughter. She grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her out the door.
In the hall her husband stopped her, having come to see what the shouting was all about. "Stop it, woman," he yelled at her in Italian. She stopped. Dropping her stunned daughter, she turned on her husband.
"Your daughter wants a damned sheeny. This slut has been living with him for three years under our noses. And then she has the brass to come to me for forgiveness."
He turned to his daughter. "Have you been dating a Jew?"
She turned white as she regained her balance. "Yes, Poppa. I. .. "
"And what is your exact relationship with him?" her father asked.
"I love him. I'm wearing his ring-engagement ring." She held up her left hand again. "We haven't exactly set the date, but we want to get married this summer. We've waited three years. I met him on a blind date and I want him to meet my family."
He shook his head sadly. "You were promised to God many years ago. You have no right accepting this material ring."
"Poppa!" She stared at him, incredulous of his words.
"Yes. When God blessed us again, and after all the trouble we had, we gave you to Him. I have just recently sent the letter to the Bishop, fulfilling my vow."
"I couldn't be a nun. I'm not... I don't believe that way. I want to love, not die slowly, smothered in black mourning."
"You bitch!" her mother screeched. "To talk of the holy things like that!" She raised her hand and slapped her daughter. "You lied, cheated! You slut. You're not my daughter. My children, all nine of them, respect God and Church. Get out of my house!" Her mother flung open the door. She looked at her father. He shook his head.
Bowing her head, she left, renouncing her family.