Chapter 4
The sun was just as bright the next morning and the birds were chattering just as gaily as the day before. It took Amy several minutes before the knowledge of her misery broke through to her when she awoke. Bitterness came to her quickly at the sight of her dress, lying crumpled on the floor.
It reminded her that Bull had failed her and she wept anew.
It was not for some time that the extent of her misery dawned on Amy. All she was aware of at first was the renewal of the pain of the night before, of the knowledge of having been spurned in a particularly degrading manner. But, despite her continuing desire for Bull, she knew that deep down she preferred it to have happened this way than for her to have succumbed to him.
Not that it was consolation for her right now. On the contrary she had moments of deep despair in which she mocked herself for being a prude and charged herself with hypocrisy for having started with Bull and then cut it short out of faint-heartedness.
It was the sight of Mrs. Cartison that really brought her down to earth with a bang. When Amy came downstairs to breakfast and saw her landlady's cold face regarding her with a malevolent stare, she suddenly got a glimpse into the enormity of her dilemma.
"Out with some soldier last light?" Mrs. Cartison inquired spitefully.
Amy stared at her and did not answer.
"All the girls think of nowadays is to pick up with some trash in uniform and go off drinking and dancing and what not every night," the older woman continued. "Cheap fancy dresses that just about cover and that's all, high heels, nylon stockings, painted and smoking, they go running off every night." She turned and stared coldly at Amy. "I heard you coming in last night."
Amy bit her underlip and tried to control herself.
"I guess you're a light sleeper," she said. "I was very quiet."
"You came in early." The way Mrs. Cartison said it, it was almost an accusation.
Amy had to fight hard not to show tears in her eyes. Mrs. Cartison might have nothing but vile words for the girls who went out with soldiers, but a sure instinct told Amy that her contempt would be even greater for a girl who wanted one and could not get him.
"I didn't want to stay up late," she said, timidly. "See your boy friend?"
So malicious was her tone that Amy for one frightened moment was sure that Mrs. Cartison either knew or had guessed the truth. As she glanced up at her, startled, Amy could see she was wrong. It was just that her landlady was filled with unhealthy curiosity about the goings and comings of the girls in town.
Amy ate her meal in silence. As quickly as was graceful she made her escape from Mrs. Cartison and went back up to her room. There in her loneliness the whole truth of her situation flooded over her and again she almost took refuge in tears. She had burned her bridges behind her: she had told family and friends that she was going to be married, left home and had come to Millersville. Now she was here, but she was not going to be married at all.
To go home again was unthinkable. But to stay was impossible. What could she possibly do in Millersville? And with something like fifty dollars to her name?
But she could not leave. It would mean giving up all hope of having Bull and Amy could not bring herself to do that. The desperate thought of the night before remained with her, a last hope to which she clung, perhaps more out of pride than anything else. Yet she had come here because of Bull, come several hundred miles and abandoned her whole previous life so that she could have him. Was she now to give up any hope for that and go slinking home, humiliated and defeated?
No. Bull still wanted her. She knew that. She had been able to see it even last night. She would have to be strong, Amy told herself, and wait for the desire to grow big with Bull, big enough so that despite everything he would come and beg for her. The scene came to her even now and she thought of how Bull would return, shame-faced and humble, begging for her. She tried to think of herself spurning him then, but there the dream broke down and she was back with her problem.
Quickly she decided that she would stay nevertheless. With the decision despair was dissipated somewhat and hope returned. The first thing she would have to do, Amy thought, was to get a job. Much cheered by her decision, she checked her appearance in the mirror and left her room. If she were to look, she would do well to start at once.
The mood of false gaiety vanished quickly. No matter how she squirmed, the humiliating experience she had endured remained with her and she was not the same girl now as the one who had so blithely climbed into the bus two days before in New York.
That Millersville was not New York Amy soon discovered. Finding a job was easier said than done in this little town. First off, she didn't know where to look or whom to see. It was not a town where people worked, but a place mainly where they lived. Most of the men worked elsewhere, in small factories and stores around the area. Millersville itself was a place where there were a few stores that serviced the town and the surrounding countryside. But there were no offices or shops and the only kind of a job she might be able to get was in a store waiting on customers.
Amy didn't like the idea of that, but she decided that she could not be choosy. She tried a large drug store with a soda fountain, but she was told quickly that there was nothing available. Within an hour she had finished with Millersville as far as jobs were concerned. There were none.
Amy considered trying another town, but she was too shy to ask anybody where she should look and by now discouragement began to set in and she called it a day by noon time. There was nothing for her to do. She walked around aimlessly until she got tired and suddenly discovered just how much alone she was.
She knew no one in town but Mrs. Cartison and had no one to talk to. There was no place for her to go. There wasn't even a movie in town.
A movie! That was it, she thought. If she went to the town where the movie was she was sure that there would also be jobs there, too. It was sure to be a bigger town. Her discouragement faded momentarily, but she was in the grip of indecision and she could not get up the initiative to go. Tomorrow would do just as well, she decided.
She went the next day after breakfast, taking the bus to the town. To her surprise the place was not much different from Millersville. It was bigger and there was some small industry where all the people worked. At several places she stopped and asked for work, but at each place she got a distinct, though courteous, refusal. Finally, she went to the movie and lost herself in the story of some other girl's troubles with love. But that girl didn't have the problem she had-far from it. Amy would gladly have exchanged problems with the girl in the movie, even if she didn't know that it would have a happy ending. Her own story didn't even seem to have a beginning in the script, let alone a happy ending.
It was dark when she got back to Mrs. Cartison's and the darkness reflected her mood. She went straight to her room and lay on the bed, discouraged and bitter. She had gotten herself into a blind alley and she could see no way out for herself. For a long time she lay there thinking, but her thoughts went round in a circle, coming back to her plight. She was angry at Bull for having done this to her. She could not dream of him coming back to her in her present state of mind, but if she had, her dream would have had greater emphasis on revenge than on love at this moment. She fell asleep in her clothes with the light on.
Ten days went by in the fruitless fashion. Ten days in which Amy pretended she was really looking for a job, that Bull would come to her, and everything would turn out well. Now the time had come when she could pretend no longer. Her carefully nursed funds had dipped below the five-dollar mark and this would not last much longer.
In the ten days she had met no one. For a girl as pretty as Amy this was surprising. But she had lived in such a way that it was inevitable. She had wandered aimlessly about the area looking for jobs where there could be none and at night she had returned to her room, obsessed with her plight and unable to free herself from the deadly repetitive pattern which had governed her actions since she fled the cottage and Bull. People she might have met, who might have in some way been able to help her at least find a job, had never even seen her. Amy-had, in fact, buried herself since the breakup of her affair with Bull and it had not really been accidental.
Now she came out of the self-induced anesthesia with which she had dulled the pain of what had happened to her. Her plight would not allow her to continue in this way and Amy knew that she had to make at least one more effort. What would happen when that effort failed she was afraid to face.
Her thoughts still turned on Bull. If she could just see him again, she thought, perhaps it would be different. She tried to think of him wanting to find her but being unable to, but she could not swallow that kind of self-deception any longer.
Amy knew that she could not go back to camp to see Bull. That would lower her too much in his eyes. The only way was to run into him by a contrived type of accident. But how? She could think of nothing. Her mind went back to the night she had spent with him and she went over it carefully looking for a clue. She found one thing, but it did not seem like much hope. But there was nothing else that occurred to her and finally she resolved on it as her one opportunity.
She dressed carefully in the same dress she had worn that night with Bull. Before leaving she surveyed herself carefully in the mirror. Her lovely young bosom thrust itself hard against the thin confinement of the black material, her white flesh warm and inviting where the dress dipped low into the hollow. The bodice clung to her, fitting snugly at her tapering waist and holding to the soft line of her body until it reached the curve of her hips, where it flared out widely. Damn, she thought, she was pretty enough and she just had to succeed this time.
Mrs. Cartison heard her and was there to watch her exit. Amy tossed her head and marched past her without a word. Only at the door did she turn and say goodnight, her smile as full of dislike as Mrs. Cartison's frown.
She walked quickly to Main St. and came to the bus stop, where she waited. The bus was filled with couples and she squirmed at the thought of herself being alone. She could have remedied that easily enough, but she recalled her experience with Bull with too much bitterness to pick up a soldier again. For. whatever it was worth, this night she would have to go alone and find her way by herself.
She got off the bus at Earl's Tavern, where Bull had taken her. It was just a long shot, but there was a chance Bull might be there. At the door she hesitated, overcome with fear and shyness. It was not a place where a girl should come alone, she thought. But it was her only chance and she had to take it. Summoning enough courage she went in.
It was early and the place had not yet come alive. There was no sight of Bull and as several soldiers at the bar began to eye her with interest Amy went quickly to one of the booths and sat down. From there she could see all who entered.