Chapter 4
Margaret was in her study three minutes later when she heard Charlie's car pull rapidly out of the driveway. Seeing Carolyn and him together on the bed, nude and obviously making love, had been such a shock to her that her mind still was not functioning properly. Anger, disgust, revulsion, disappointment, and bewilderment all chased each other around and around in her mind like mindless squirrels on an endless treadmill.
How could she possibly handle this situation? In her mind she saw the wanton expression of lust on her daughter's desire contorted face, had seen the sheen of semen running down her rib cage, had seen her obscenely splayed legs spread wide on both sides of Charlie Webb's startlingly white buttocks! It was a scene that was seared forever into the sensitivities of her brain, and she could only shake her head in bewilderment. That girl - that woman, actually! - on the bed, that person wasn't her daughter. Carolyn was a decent girl, one who would never betray her trust.
And yet, as the comely judge puzzled over it, what did she really know of her daughter? How long had it been since the two of them had shared any kind of spiritual - emotional rapport? Oh, there had been the perfunctory "rap" sessions, discussions of school work, dates, future plans . . . but no real communication. Thoughtfully, Margaret lit a cigarette, then feeling the need of a drink, poured herself a double shot of Scotch and sat down behind her desk. Somehow or another, since they last had communicated with each other about two years ago, her daughter had passed from the ephemeral rainbow land of childhood into the uncharted swamps on the perimeters of adulthood. Now was the time Carolyn really needed help from her mother; yet, after what had just transpired, Margaret knew there would be an almost insurmountable wall of mistrust and embarrassment and alienness between them. The one thing she could not, must not, permit to happen was to let the girl think she was all alone in the world ... an outcast. The situation was fraught with danger; it had to be handled tactfully.
Margaret looked up as her daughter entered the study. The girl, predictably, wore a defiant expression calculated to hide the fright. Seeing her thus, so young, so uncertain, so damned vulnerable, Margaret felt the stinging tears well up in her eyes. Carolyn sat on the edge of the chair in front of her desk, hands clasped together between her knees, head bowed, shoulders slumped as if preparing to ward off a blow. Margaret's heart went out to her, and she turned her head to keep the girl from seeing the unwanted tears which had started running freely down both sides of her nose. Sniffling once, then clearing her throat, Margaret said in a husky voice, "I guess I should ask how long has this been going on."
Carolyn didn't look up. "Today was the first time ... we've ever done ... that... before."
"You're saying you've never been intimate before today."
"We weren't today even ... if you want to be technical."
Margaret looked at her closely. Carolyn had never lied to her before; she couldn't understand why the girl felt compelled to lie now, especially knowing that her mother had actually seen it. "I think," she said slowly, "you'd better explain what you mean by the word 'technical'."
"We didn't go all the way."
"You mean he didn't make a penetration." It was easier to put it in unemotional legal terms.
Carolyn, unable to speak, merely nodded miserably.
Margaret was silent for so long a period that Carolyn was forced to look up. "It's the truth," the girl said, defiantly.
"I believe you." And oddly enough, in spite of everything she had witnessed, Margaret did believe her daughter.
Carolyn felt the need to elaborate. "I'm still a virgin, technically. All Charlie and I have done is 'heavy petting,' and this was the first time we've ever gone as far as we went today."
"I see."
"No, you don't see!" It was said heatedly, and now Carolyn had begun to cry with shuddering sobs shaking her young body as her last vestiges of composure evaporated. "I wanted him to make love to me. I'm not like you."
Margaret reeled from this unexpected verbal revelation. What possessed the girl to say something like that? "You had better explain that remark," she said coldly, trying to control a rising tide of anger.
Carolyn was barely able to gasp out between the tears, "You don't need or want my father. You don't need anyone! I've heard him at nights, pleading with you. Well ... I'm not that way, cold and unfeeling. I like Charlie Webb to kiss me ... to caress me ... to feel me! And I like to feel his body too. And I wanted him to make love to me," she repeated in heavily sobbing gasps.
Hurt and angered by the accusation, Margaret's voice was like a whiplash as she snapped, "Let's not confuse the issue with what I feel or do not feel for your father. We're talking about your inexcusable behavior with Charlie Webb. You apparently feel you've done nothing to be ashamed of, that you've done absolutely nothing wrong - not wrong in using this house as a rendezvous, not wrong in permitting a boy you've only known four or five weeks to fondle you like some common little street tramp, not wrong in cutting your classes at school, not wrong in betraying your father's or my trust in you."
As Carolyn heard her mother's damning indictment, she felt as if her skin was being flailed mercilessly because everything Margaret said was the truth. She was guilty of all of these things and more . . . and guilty of hurting her mother with the remark about being "cold and unfeeling." Of everything that had happened, she regretted that last impetuous statement more than anything else. Finally, unable to handle the burden of shame any longer, the young girl's shoulders slumped once again and she began sobbing as if her heart were broken. "I'm . . . sorry, Mother," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."
Now Margaret was weeping again also. She had hurt the child in a moment of anger, something that was inexcusable, for she supposedly had been trained to be objective and emotionless at the bar of judgment. Quickly she rose from her chair and went around the desk to gather the loudly wailing girl into her arms. Carolyn buried her face against her mother's bulky knit suit and repeated, "I'm sorry, Mother. Really I am. . ."
"There, there, honey. I'm sorry, too." Margaret said as she tried to comfort her daughter by patting her on the back.
The emotional storm died in a minute or two, and Margaret led the girl over to the couch and sat down beside her. She pulled a handkerchief from her side pocket and handed it to Carolyn, who blew her nose loudly before wiping her eyes. Then Margaret asked, "All right. What are we going to do?"
"I don't know, Mother."
"Well ... for a start ... I'd like your word of honor that you won't see Charlie Webb alone again ... not drive with him alone, not even to school, or go anyplace with him where the two of you will be alone. I'm not asking you to stop seeing him . . . just don't be alone again where temptation might get the best of you."
Carolyn swallowed and looked up through tear-reddened, swollen eyes. "I promise."
"And I think we'd better get you away from here this summer." She paused, thoughtful, as the first tremulous beginnings of an idea was born. "When is school out?"
"In three weeks."
"That would be when?"
"June tenth."
Yes, Margaret thought with a sudden sense of sureness, it would work. John obviously would balk, but that was too bad. They both would have to put a little extra effort into the love and upbringing of their daughter; after all, she had only a year more of high school, and then she would probably disappear from their lives. She patted Carolyn's hand once more and said, "All right, darling. I'll make some plans for us and we'll talk about it tomorrow."
"Us? You mean you and me?" It was said excitedly, eagerly, and Margaret felt the return of guilt because it had been so terribly long since any of them had vacationed together.
"Yes. Us." Margaret hugged the girl, then tried to look stern once more. "Now there's the matter of your cutting class today - a separate offense requiring separate punishment. What do you think is fair?"
Carolyn was so happy at being let off the hook that she said impulsively, "Anything you say." She regretted it immediately when Margaret Dunn nodded her head and replied, "All right then. You're grounded - no dates - for two weeks."
"But, Mother," she wailed. "I'm the Queen of the Junior Prom next Friday . . . and Charlie and I, we . . . we. . ." Her voice trailed off weakly as she saw her mother's expression and realized the mention of Charlie's name had the same effect as a red flag in front of a bull. Then she nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, Mother."
After Carolyn had gone to take a shower, Margaret sat on the couch for a long time. She had been her daughter's age the first time any boy had touched her. They had gone through some hot and heavy petting, too, but never gone all the way. Thank God, her parents had never discovered her nude the way she had seen Carolyn and Charlie. Not that she hadn't thought about it, though! She had still been a virgin when she married John Dunn, although just barely. She had never regretted it. Sex wasn't distasteful to her, it was just a waste of time usually. She could count the number of orgasms she'd had in her lifetime on the fingers of both hands. She had come close ... so close, so many times . . . but "close" was not enough for her body. In time, she had begun making excuses rather than suffer the sleeplessness brought on by an unsated, unsatisfied body. As her court duties grew in importance and responsibility, she found a good night's sleep was the most important single factor in keeping a clear mind during the day. And then, eight years ago, there had been that incident with John and Bunny, one of his graduate student assistants. Even now, she wasn't completely sure whether anger or hurt had been foremost in her mind. She had called him "an idiot" for getting involved with a student, and had cried out, "If you don't give a damn about your own career, you can at least think of mine!" Since that time, pretense hadn't been necessary any longer with him. She made no bones about the distastefulness of sex with him.
Carolyn had called her "cold and unfeeling." Margaret knew the statement was not true, even though it was probably justified. Remembering the excitement she had felt during petting while still Carolyn's age, the woman knew positively that she wasn't completely "unfeeling." She wondered where she and John had gone wrong. Was it her fault? Was something structurally, physically wrong with her? Or was John's technique inadequate? Then she asked aloud, "Am I really sexually finished - through with sex-at thirty-six?" And she answered her own question, again out loud, "No!" It was said with more heat and more conviction than she had ever believed herself capable of.
Everything that had happened today-from Sam's request that she take an early vacation to discovering Charlie and Carolyn - seemingly conspired to throw the Dunn family together for at least three weeks in June. John's expedition to Baja California was scheduled to leave on the first. He planned to have camp set up at Scammon's lagoon by the eighth or ninth.
There was, Margaret thought, nothing to prevent Carolyn and her from chartering a plane and flying into the expedition's camp on the fifteenth. It might even be fun. She could do John's typing, as she had done eighteen years ago while they both were going to college. Carolyn could help with the cooking duties; she was also a fairly good little photographer and could assist in the darkroom.
Now all Margaret had to do was convince John that they wouldn't be underfoot. If necessary, she would tell him about Charlie and Carolyn, but she hoped that was a weapon that could be left in the arsenal.
And then she thought dully, feeling some of the enthusiasm fading, "I suppose I'll have to stay in the bedroom, after all."