Dottie scanned the bathroom. The Klines kept a neat place. Dottie realized in all the years she had lived in the same block, she had never been in their house. “Ouch!” Dottie could have drowned herself right in the tub. She sounded like such a baby.
“Sorry, hon. The peroxide may be worse than the washing.” Midge finished dabbing the wound. “There. All better.”
“Thanks. Dottie ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing over the wrinkles. “Can I ask you something, Midge?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You are one of the prettiest things I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve been in Racine for a few weeks, and up until today, I didn’t know why I ever came.”
Dottie looked away, not understanding why she needed this stranger’s approval so much.
Dottie felt her face flush. Midge smiled. Dottie looked away again, nervously playing with the wadded-up toilet paper, dripping in peroxide and her blood. Midge gently took the mess from her hands and placed it into the trash. She took a fresh cloth and began wiping Dottie’s hands. Dottie’s legs started to tremble. Midge dropped the cloth, lifting Dottie’s chin. Dottie grasped the side of the tub and closed her eyes. Midge leaned closer, placing her lips on her forehead.
“So, sugar. Are you rationed?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you going with anyone special?”
“I… um… no,” Dottie finally whispered. Midge twirled a lock of her hair and laughed again.
“You don’t seem to me the type of gal that gets all crazy over some drooly.” Dottie was too embarrassed to ask, but then Midge answered the question without it having to be asked. “A ‘Drooly’ is a good-looking boy.” Dottie felt a fierce shame rise inside of her. This girl was forcing it to the surface, and she didn’t want anyone to know about “it.” She limped onto her feet and off the tub.
“I have to go.”
“Can I ask you one thing?”
Dottie cringed at the thought of this girl. This strange girl prying into her most hated secrets.
“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just want to know how you feel when you’re with a boy.”
Dottie’s eyes swelled before she could try to stop the tears, but it was too late. Midge grabbed another handful of toilet paper.
“I’m sorry. I…”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I feel nothing when I’m with a boy.”
Midge took Dottie’s stained face into her hands and brushed her lips against the quivering girl’s mouth and gently locked her lips into a full, soft kiss. Dottie did not pull away, and the tears stopped.
“How did that feel?”
“A little like getting drunk, but better.”
~~~
Dottie accidentally switched the channel to one of those judge shows. A heavyset woman was squawking at a man in a green suit about unpaid rent money. Dottie found the power button and managed to silence the annoying screen. She lay back into her pillow and wondered why Midge hadn’t come to see her yet. Though she was having trouble remembering how long she had been there, she thought Midge would have been the first person to come. The locket she gave to her sat on the nightstand in want of a new clasp. Dottie longed to wear it, but the darn thing snapped right off while she was sleeping, and the nurse had to put it away until someone could come and get it repaired. Dottie’s frustration surfaced like a submarine ready for battle. Was the locket gold or silver? How could she forget such a thing? The engraving would always be with her. That’s one thing she would not forget. D&M Forever.
~~~
Dottie awoke again to the sounds of the television, only this time it was being switched off by a slender nurse, precariously wobbling on outstretched toes. She crept off as silent as a cat, but the damage was done. Dottie was up. Loneliness crawled under the sheets with her and refused to allow her enough peace for much-needed slumber. She reached with an arthritic hand for the button. If they could wake her up, the least they could do is bring her some water. “Nurse? Nurse? Hello? Could I get some water? Nurse?” The slender thing returned, wearing a fresh uniform and a smile that told Dottie she mustn’t have worked here long.
“Yes?”
“I have been asking for water for God knows how long. Nobody will bring me any.”
“Oh, you poor thing. Here, let me get you some,” said the pretty girl as she lifted the cup. The nurse departed and returned with the same cup and its ample content. “Here you are, dear. Let me help you take a few sips.”
The girl lifted Dottie’s head as if she were handing a newborn to her mother for the first time.
“Oh, thank you, honey,” said Dottie, patting the girl’s hand.
“All right, now have a good night.”
“You, too, honey.” Dottie wondered if Midge would be upset if she caught her glancing at the girl’s backside. She leaned back into the pillows and drifted off again.
~~~
It must have been several months after Dottie met Midge outside of her uncle’s home. By that time, Midge had grown tired of her uncle’s wife trying to “make a lady” out of her and moved into her own apartment. She managed to secure a job at a local newspaper as a photographer, which was difficult during that time, since the men were coming back from service. During the war, women owned the workforce. They knew it wouldn’t last but were grateful for the opportunity to get a taste of wages instead of an occasional compliment on dinner as payment for such dedicated labor. Dottie recalled it was one of those dreary days where the sun seemed to have abandoned the town completely and left a cool unwelcome mist in its place.
Dottie had been listening to a radio program when she heard someone rapping furiously at the front door. She scooted off the sofa, dropping a pillow on the floor. When she opened the door, there stood Midge, a halo of confidence circling her tight frame.
“Hey, kid. You wanna be my model?” Midge brought her work camera out from the bottom of her bag.
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
The pair ran up the stairs and dashed into Dottie’s bedroom.
“OK, strip,” said Midge, looking through the lens.
“Stop it, Midge. You’re screwy.”
“Take them off!” she demanded gently.
“Are you sure nobody will see them?”
“We do our own pictures at the paper. Don’t worry. I’ll be the only one to see them.”
About Ann Lamparski
