"Brr," she greeted him.
"You wore your hair down. I didn't recognize you at first the other night."
"Oh, you mean at the dance. Did you have a good time?"
"Not really, but it looked like you did."
"We'd better go in. Father's waiting."
Father Paul read the names as they appeared in his book, last name first. The ritual took about ten minutes, as he greeted those who answered and speculated about those who did not. Joanne pondered Karl’s attitude. Was he angry because she dressed up and had fun? If he wanted to dance with her, why hadn't he asked?
"Wilkins, Carol" read Father, just as the owner of that name slipped into the seat next to Joanne. He cleared his throat and most of the students looked up, pens poised. "We've been considering the principle of double effect. What is the basic precept, Mr. Alwine?"
"The end does not justify the means."
"Exactly. Now for some examples. Suppose a woman with a heart condition becomes pregnant. The doctor advises that childbirth might kill her. How does the principle apply in this case, Miss Curry?"
Joanne rose, blushing. "If the doctor takes the baby in order to save the mother, there will be two effects, one good, the mother's life, and one bad, the baby';s death. In this case, saving the mother's life would be a direct effect of killing the baby. It would be an evil means toward a good end. This is prohibited by the principle of the double effect."
"Precisely. Now another example. A pregnant woman has acute appendicitis. To operate may result in the death of the unborn child. Can the doctor remove the appendix, Miss Wilkins?"
"I don't think so, Father."
"Why not?"
"There would be two effects and the death of the baby would be an evil one."
"Do you agree, Mr. Brezinksi?"
"No, Father. There would be two effects, but the mother's health would not be a direct result of the child's death. If the child survived the operation, the mother would still be saved. Its death would be an unfortunate result; that's all."
"Yes! We must consider whether the good effect results from a bad cause. You must study the principle, Miss Wilkins."
Joanne could understand her friend's confusion. They had been painstakingly taught, Carol in Catholic school and Joanne in religious instructions, that the whole purpose of marriage and sex was the procreation of children. Anything that interfered with that must be wrong.
Joanne wrote diligently as Father Paul continued the lecture, but her mind examined other principles. She thought about her upcoming date with Mac, who was friendly and thoroughly scrutable, safe and somehow boring. Then there was Karl, scowling yet fascinating.
The clock's chimes cut through the sharp, cold air. Joanne stood in the hall, fumbling with her scarf.
"Here, let me." Karl had stepped in front of her, his full lips half-smiling, his fair features soft and relaxed, his round brown eyes solemn.
"There, is that too tight? I don't want to strangle you. Where are you going?"
"To the Student Union. I missed breakfast."
"It's on me, okay?"
He picked up her notebook and slipped her hand into his.
They fought the wind together, gasping in the crackling air, squinting under a dazzling electric blue sky. In the loud, crowded snack room, they filled their lungs with warm air and refocused their eyes to the shade. Sitting close over steaming coffee and English muffins, they still had to shout.
He asked about her courses and she complained about the methods classes. "They tell you never to give busy work, and then they load us up with it. I don't mind working if I'm learning something, but these assignments are inane."
Karl had his life mapped out. He would graduate in June and take a job already lined up in Philadelphia.
"He's so practical and organized," she thought, but she suspected something didn't fit, just as those brooding eyes didn't seem to fit in his mild face. Whatever it was, it drew her and scared her.
"Do you like music?"he was asking.
"Y-yes,"she answered. "I don't know a lot about it. I used to play the violin and the piano, a little, just to relax."
"Do you like progressive jazz?"
"I don't know whether I've ever heard it."
"I have two tickets to a Brubeck concert in Pittsburgh on Saturday. You'd have to get a late permission. Would you like to go?"
Her mind raced to the weekend ahead, her date with Mac Friday night. She had never been asked out two nights in a row before. She hated to admit, even to herself, that she'd never had a real date. In the pause before she answered, she didn't even think about whether she wanted to be with Karl.
"Okay. I'll see if I can get a pass."
"Oh, you'll get one. Let me know for sure tomorrow. If you'll be in the cafeteria at twelve, I'll see you there."
Freshman girls were allowed one late pass a month and they had to state where they were going, with whom, and by what transportation. Mrs. McDonough, the dean of women and housemother of the girls'dorm was solicitous of her proteges, gathering them periodically for lectures on dating, etiquette and the standards expected of an Aloysius girl. She smiled when Joanne knocked on her door.
"Hello, deary! What can I do for you today?"
"I'd like a late pass for Saturday night.
"Let's see. You haven't had one before, have you? I meant to tell you, Joanne, you looked very nice at the dance. You've lost weight, haven't you? It's nice to see you coming out of yourself. Here, if you'll just fill out this form."
"Karl Schwabb,"she read when Joanne handed back the form. "Oh, I thought you were going with Mac. I saw you with him at the dance."
"I'm going skating with Mac on Friday but Karl asked me to the concert."
The Dean of Women frowned. "You'll have a busy weekend, then."
"Well, I won't be out late on Friday and I can study on Sunday. My term papers are all finished."
"Oh, I know you can handle the class work, dear. It just seems like a lot of social life all of a sudden. You and Karl aren't doubling?"
"I don't think so."
"How long have you known him?"
"Since September. He's in my theology class."
"Well, be sure he gets you back on time."
When Joanne met Karl at lunch the next day, he was grinning a full grin and carrying two albums.
"Did you get a late?" he asked. She nodded and he handed her the records.
"Here's a sample of what you're in for. Why don't you play these and let me know what you think of them?"
They were both Brubeck.
"Hey, that's nice music," exclaimed Denise in the dorm that night.
"Yes," agreed Carol. "Kind of dreamy and soothing."
Carol sat on the lower bunk in her yellow, baby-doll pajamas while Denise rubbed her legs.
"Hmm, that's nice," she murmured. "Would you do my back?"
Joanne watched curiously, as Denise ran her fingers down Carol's spine.
"Ooh, that's sexy, "purred Carol.
"What, the music or the massage?" asked Julie.
"Both. Want me to do you?"
"No thanks."
"How about you, Josie?"
Joanne shook her head. "It would just make me have to pee."
"Don't you know, silly? That's one of the after effects of sex."
Joanne didn't know. What she knew about sex she had learned in eighth grade health class and religious instructions. French kissing was wrong in the former and a mortal sin in the latter. It aroused boys and made them want more. Necking and petting did, too. As for petting between girls, it had never been mentioned, and she didn't want to think about it. Girls weren't supposed to have feelings like that.
She listened to the music, which was restful but demanded concentration. She could see why Karl liked it. It was like him, mysterious.
"So this is what you're going to hear," remarked Denise.
"Careful, it's a little provocative, don't you think? You and Karl had better behave."
"Let her alone," chided Carol. "Let her have some fun. She needs it. If you can't be good, be careful, Josie. And if you can't be careful, name it after me."
Joanne threw a pillow at her and went to change the record. Carol tossed the pillow at Sue, scattering the pages of her letter to Mike.
"Go to bed, you idiots," yelled Sharon.
Joanne helped Sue retrieve her letter, put the records back in their jackets and went to brush her teeth. When she came back, the dorm had quieted, but she couldn't sleep. She lay still, sorting through her mind but trying not to think. Thinking was dangerous; there were still too many things she didn't want to know. Unbidden, Mac's face passed before her closed eyes. He was the kind of boy she would have been thrilled to date in high school, popular, carefree, acceptable to the Clan. She was proud, now, to have him as a friend. And Karl? Karl was different, but how? Why? There she was, thinking, and she didn't want to think. She just wanted to be.
This weekend would be the last before Christmas vacation. The smell of snow hung in the air, but the crisp, clear weather held. Lake Aloysius was solid and smooth on Friday evening. Christmas music blared from a speaker as Mac helped her tighten her skates.
"Come on, we'll race you," he called to Sharon and Jeff.
Sharon shivered and Jeff hugged her playfully. They had been going steady since September and would surely be pinned in the spring. It would be fun to hear her serenaded, but few Delta brothers lost their pins in the winter, since the penalty included a dunking in the lake.
When they were chilled and exhausted, Mac and Joanne trudged to the student union for hot chocolate.
"It's been a perfect night for skating," sighed Joanne.
"Tomorrow's supposed to be more of the same. Want to come again/"
"Sorry. I'm busy tomorrow night."
Mac raised an eyebrow. "Oh, okay. Maybe after Christmas, then. What are you planning over the vacation?"
"Nothing special. Shop, see friends."
"Do you want to give me your phone number, in case we get bored?"
"You want to call me from Pittsburgh?"
"Sure, if you don't mind. It's not that far. Don't you want me to?"
"No, I mean yes, I just thought you'd be busy with your friends. I'm sorry."
"Will you please stop being sorry for everything. You sure are a funny kid."
Joanne started to say something, then laughed instead.
"What's funny?"
"All I could think of to say was 'I'm sorry.' "
They both laughed.
It wasn't until she was back in the dorm that she remembered that she hadn't given him her phone number.
The roommates spent Saturday cleaning the dorm, doing laundry and writing letters. The tensions of close living erupted then. Carol and Denise had had a tiff. When Julie tried to clear the air, they both turned on her. Joanne went to wash her hair, and when she came back the mood had changed.
"could read when I went to the first grade," Frannie was saying. "Since reading was all they taught in first grade, the nuns didn';t know what to do with me; so they let me loaf and I've been lazy ever since."
"You need a challenge," said Carol. "And you sure won't get it here."
It hadn't taken long for them to discover that St. Aloysius was third rate, academically.
It';s a real problem, though," mused Joanne. "Even in the public schools, there's no provision for gifted children. The teachers jump on them for not working up to their capacity yet don't do anything to challenge them. We read about some new programs in Ed Psych. I think I'd like to work with kids like that."
"Good for you, Josie," said Julie. "Now that we've told what makes us tick, it's your turn. Who are you?"
"What do you mean? You know me."
"We want to know why you act the way you do. For example, why do you always run away?"
"Do I?"
"Yes. At first we thought you didn't like anyone."
"But I love people."
"We know that now," said Sue. "But when we first met you, we thought you were stuck up."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you," answered Sharon. "When we started to realize you were just shy, we played a game with you. If we said, 'Are you going to dinner?' you'd say no. But if we said 'Are you coming to dinner?' you'd come."
Joanne rubbed her wet hair vigorously, hiding her red face in the towel. "That was a mean game,"she muttered.
"I know," said Julie. "We were just trying to find out whether you were playing a game. When we realized you weren't, we stopped. Did you think we didn't want you?"
"I guess so."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"You know, I was hurt by a boyfriend one time," offered Denise, "and after that I didn't trust boys. Maybe you were hurt by someone."
"Maybe."
"I know what's wrong with Josie," said Carol, crisply. "When she was little she masturbated and her mother slapped her hands."
"That's crazy," said Sue. "Where do you come up with these ideas? Hey, it's five-thirty. Who's going to dinner?"
"I'm coming," said Joanne, grateful to Sue for changing the subject. "Just let me finish drying my hair."
"Do you want me to fix it for you afterwards?" asked Julie.
"No, I think I'll wear it down tonight."
Later, she dressed in a tailored gray sack dress that Denise had taken in for her. She smoothed the electricity from her hair, delighting vainly its soft thickness. She hoped Karl would like it.