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Destiny |
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Marta stood in the washroom of her boarding home, nervously fidgeting with
her hair. Brigitte walked in, and heard her friend talking to herself. "What if he doesn't like this color? Maybe I should put my hair like this. What if he tries something tonight? Oh, darn hair!" Brigitte began to giggle, causing Marta to gasp, and become angry. "Were you standing there this whole time, Brigitte Somers?" she demanded. Brigitte began to laugh loudly now. Marta was not amused. "Well, you might at least be of some help to me. How do I look?" "You look just like a doll, Marty. Don't worry, if Spot doesn't like the way you look, Gregory always does!" Brigitte replied. Marta threw a damp rag at her, and walked out of the room laughing. Brigitte put the rag in the sink and followed her into the small room they shared. "What are you doing now," she questioned. "I'm putting my things away. What does it look like, Gita?" She shoved her clothes into the drawer next to her bed and began to make the bed up. "Well, it makes no sense to me why you would be making your bed and cleaning up at..." She looked up at the clock on the wall. "Five 'til seven." She watched as her friend finished and sat down on the bed. "Where are you going tonight, anyway?" "I think we're going to see a moving-picture, but I don't know what else." She began picking at her quilt nervously. "You had better bring a sweater. It's getting chilly already." "Thank you, Mother Gita!" She let the quilt be, and instead stood up and began smoothing and fluffing her dress. "Are you sure I look alright?" "Yes, Marty," she sighed, "Like an angel. Don't worry, I'm sure Spot will love your hair." She jumped up, grabbed Marta's hand and began leading her out of their room. "You'd better get downstairs or Spot's going to think you stood him up." They walked down stairs to find Spot standing in the doorway, nonchalantly. "Spot, you're- you're early!" Marta stammered. Spot looked up at the grandfather clock across the room and chuckled. "I don't think thirty seconds counts, Marty. Are you ready to go?" Marta nodded, and squeezed Gita's arm before walking out the door behind Spot. Her mind raced as she walked along the street next to Spot. What if he tries something? I wonder if Gita was being honest wiht me about this dress. Oh, dear! I think I should have worn the brown one! I hope the picture is good. I haven't seen but one good one. Ah, but what can you expect for ten cents? "Marta, did you hear me?" Spot asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was thinking," she replied. "I hope you don't think like that a lot. I asked you if you wanted to get something to eat before the picture," he repeated for her benefit. "Oh, that's alright," she said playing with the bottom of her coat. "I ate soemthing about an hour ago." "Alright," he said. They spoke no more until they arrived at the theater. Spot gallantly paid for the show, and proudly led Marta into the dark room. Marta's thoughts again reverted to what they were on the walk from the boarding house. She never knew what the show really entailed, because she was so engrossed in her thoughts. After the movie, they walked out to the pier. By this time it was dark outside, and the electric lights new the pier cast a dim light over the water. Marta, though the outing was more than half over, was still fretting about her hair, her dress, and other things of no worth. Spot looked over the edge of the pier at the dark water below. How many times had he escorted girls to this very spot. How many times had he been able to twist theur minds and hearts so that when he was bored with them, they went heartbroken, and still completely in love with him. He smiled down at the water then turned and looked at his silent companion. Never before had he escorted so quiet a girl. She seemed to him quite distracted, though he knew not why. Marta was fidgeting nervously with her coat again. Oh, I should have worn the green dress. I'm sure it would have contrasted my hair better. Oh, but then my eyes would have been drowned out. Perhaps the cream dress would have been better! Oh, why doesn't he say something! It was at this time she noticed Spot's eyes upon her. She looked up at him in the dim light, expecting him to say something. He did not say anything. Instead, he caught her up in his arms and kissed her. Though this was an unexpected even, it was not unwelcome to Marta. Before she knew it, her arms were hugging his neck, and the two stood there for quite some time on the pier that way. When finally Spoy pulled back, he looked down at Marta's face. It looked calmer he decided. He took her hand and began to walk her back to the boarding house, since it was nearly nine when they would reach it. When they reached it, he asked "May I see you again?" in a tone that made Marta weak in the knees. "Yes," she replied, eyes downcast. He lifted her chin and kissed her once more, then began to walk back to his flophouse. Marta skipped up the walk when he was out of sight, and stopped sharply before the steps. She wouldn't want to seem too ecstatic. She quietly entered thew front room where many of the girls sat talking or reading books. Not one girl even noticed the late entrance of their friend. Marta became indifferent about this, and stomped up the stairs as if she had not had a good time at all. She went into her room and set her coat on her bed. She took up her nightdress and ventured into the washroom to change and wash up. When she entered the washroom, she found Brigitte standing over one of the sinks washing her face. She said nothing to her friend and went straight into a changing room. When she came back out, Gita was combing her hair. Gita looked over at the opening door and greeted her friend enthusiastically. "Hello, Marty! I didn't know you'd come back yet! Did you have a nice time? What did you do? Where did you go? What did he say? What did you say? I want to know all the details!" At her friend's enthusiasm, Marta's indifferentce melted away, and she began to gush about the doing of the evening. "Oh, I had the most terrific time! We went to a moving picture first, and it was about...oh, what was it about? I remember now! No, I don't! Well, that's not important! Then we went out to the pier, and guess what he did! Oh, you'll never guess! He kissed me! Two times even! I'm so happy Gita! You don't even know; you can't begin to know! I'm getting the boy I've wanted for ever so long! I'm so terrifically happy it should be a sin!" Then she spun around and began to dance around the washroom with her dress. Brigitte laughed heartily at her friends doings and commented, "I suppose I don't know. Just be careful, Marty. Boys like Spot can be dangerous." "Oh, don't worry about me! There won't be any problems! It'll just be dandy!" Marty replied with a giggle. "Besides, if he tries anything, I'll lick 'im!" She jumped into a boxing stance and tried to look tough. Brigitte shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the washroom, having finished her business. Marta went quickly about hers and finished in much less time than usual. She crawled into bed that night a happy and hopeful girl. Times are going to be good, she thought, Spot and I will be the envy of everyone around. Even Lillian Pucket and her Andrew Norman couldn't be as envied as I will be. Ah, yes, revenge is sweet... Her mind wandered about for a while until she finally fell asleep. (In the above part, Spot has no accent, he will later.) *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Spot,
I refuse to go to yet another lowly bar. We should go to
Rockefeller Hall! There's always a dance there on Thursday nights. Oh, it
would be such fun!" Marta protested. "I
ain't goin' to no highfalutin' dance hall where I won't know nobody,
Marty. I'll be damned if I'm caught there again after what happened last
time! No, we ain't goin' to da Rockafeller!" Spot countered stomping
his foot. "You
know Gregory! He's always there! I'm sure we could convince him
to take Gita. She loves dancing. Besides, Andrew Norman always
takes Lillian Pucket there. You don't want people to think you're less
caring than he is, do you? " That was a blow below the belt. She knew
he cared, and he made sure she knew it, but to say he didn't was something
he couldn't handle. Every week for three months they had this same
argument; every week the same things were brought up. Every week Marta
threw Andrew Norman and Lillian Pucket up into his face. He looked at her
hard in the face. "Marta,
if ya wanna go to da Rockerfeller, go fer all I care, but I ain't goin'
wit' ya. Hell, since Gregory always goes, go wit' him. I ain't
goin'." Marta
was stunned. Never before had he said such a thing. much of the time she
had relented and the evening had ended in his room with a night of
love-making. There were, of course, the few times when he had relented and
gone with her, but never before had he told her to go without him. Marta
got very angry at him for not wanting to go, and yelled, "Fine! I'm
going. But don't you yell at me if you hear stories! You told me
you wouldn't go, and since you obviously don't care, I'll go with someone
who does. I hope you have a nice evening alone, Peter Conlon. Good
night!" She ran out the door and back to her boarding house. Spot
sat in the room bewildered for a moment. Had he actually said
that? Had she actually said that? He became outraged.
He went to bed that night angry as a hornet whose nest had been upset. ------------ Marta
dressed feverishly and quickly did up her hair in the most fashionable way
she knew how. She ran downstairs and caught up the reciever for the
house telephone.
Brigitte sat in class fidgeting. Where is Marta? My God! She didn't
even come home last night! Oh, what if she's hurt? What if she's been
kidnapped? Or Raped?? Oh, God! Maybe she's lying on the street
somewhere...dead! |