Out of the Easy(37)

Frankie put up his hands, surrendering. “I don’t have a problem with it. Jesse’s a good guy. The girls love him something crazy. See ya, Yankee girl.” Frankie walked to the door. I followed him out onto the street. I couldn’t stand it. I had to know.

“Say, Frankie, have you heard anything about Mother?”

“She’s been seen here and there. You know, Jo, you should stay close around Willie.”

“I do stay close to Willie.”

“She’s always had your back, and you should have hers too.” Frankie cracked his gum, gave me a salute with his long hand, and walked off down Royal.

I knew that Willie was Frankie’s biggest benefactor. So it only made sense that he stayed close to her and brought her info. But what was he implying by saying I should stay close to Willie? Patrick motioned to me through the window to come back in the store.

“You know, now it makes sense,” said Patrick. “Jesse comes by the store a lot, but he doesn’t buy anything. He just gets grease on the books. Isn’t he from some hillbilly town in Arkansas?”

“Alabama, and he doesn’t get grease on the books. You’re making that up.”

“Well, I guess he seems nice enough. He’s always smiling. Did you ever notice that?” said Patrick.

“No, I never noticed that.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s just a friend,” I said.

Patrick nodded. “He’s got good teeth.” His thoughts reversed. “Hey, I ran into Miss Paulsen yesterday.”

Miss Paulsen was a professor at Loyola and a lady friend of Charlie’s. I had never met her, but Charlie once confided that he thought she was looking to develop their close friendship into a long-term commitment. She hired Patrick as her aide in the English department one year.

“Miss Paulsen went to Smith,” said Patrick.

“She did?”

“Yeah, I completely forgot about that. Anyway, I told her about you, and she said she would be happy to answer any questions you might have. She’s stopping by the shop later this week to pick up a book I ordered for her. You can speak to her then,” said Patrick.

“Oh, Patrick, thank you!” I made an awkward attempt to hug him because it seemed appropriate. He stood surprised, then put his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder.





TWENTY-FOUR


I had read the materials so many times, I practically had them memorized.

It is the aim of the Board of Admissions to have its entrance requirements flexible and thus make it possible for able girls to come to Smith from various types of schools and all parts of the country.

I looked at the word able. Able to meet the stringent requirements? Able to be accepted? Probably able to afford it, which I couldn’t.

The Board of Admissions attempts to select from the complete list of candidates those students whose records of character, health, and scholarship give evidence of their equipment for college.

Character. I knew I was one, but they wanted me to have one.

Health. Besides the occasional red beans and rice incident on the Gedricks’ sidewalk, I was healthy.

Scholarship. The one B in Mr. Proffitt’s class was going to haunt me. I could still feel his sticky mothball breath steaming over my desk. Did he eat rotten sweaters from his attic? “You must apply yourself, Miss Moraine,” he would say in his whispery tone. “You must seek the soul of the equation.” The soul of the equation? I wasn’t convinced that calculus had anything close to a soul. But I should have pretended and joined Mr. Proffitt for a meal of sweater vests. That B would dent my application.

Admission is based on the candidate’s record as a whole, the school record, the recommendations, the College Board tests, and other information secured by the college regarding general ability, personality, and health. All credentials should reach the Board of Admissions before March 1 if the student wishes to have her application considered at the April meeting by the Board of Admissions.

Before March. It was already February. Mardi Gras approached on February 21, and the parties and balls were already under way. Willie would be keeping the house open longer each day to cash in on the “high-time hoopla,” as she called it. She had extra seasonal girls arranged and two rooms reserved at the motel nearby. The girls would work in shifts, taking time to bathe and sleep a few hours at the motel in between. I’d still clean in the morning, but it would take longer, and there were always errands during Mardi Gras.

I stared out the window from the counter of the bookshop and watched the passersby. John Lockwell would also be busy during Mardi Gras. When I was in his office, I saw a photo of him with Rex, one of the oldest Mardi Gras krewes. If I didn’t get the recommendation letter before Mardi Gras festivities started, I wouldn’t get it at all.

Residence

Smith College has the policy of placing groups of students from each of the four classes in houses of its own. Each house has its own living room, dining room, kitchen and is supervised by the Head of the House.

The “Head of the House.” It sounded like Willie. I looked at the return address from Charlotte. She lived in Tenney House.

Expenses

Tuition fee $850

Residence fee $750

Books $25–$50

Subscriptions and dues $24

Recreation and incidentals $100