Ширли Мерфи - Poor Jenny, Bright As A Penny

She would write until she was exhausted, then eat or shower—anything to refresh herself—and return to read back what she had written, rewrite paragraphs, rephrase sentences, sometimes reconstruct many pages, slowly building, breathing life into the flood of passions and fears she had unleashed.

She would work well past midnight and was up before dawn. She worked until finally she was empty. And when her energy was spent she was quite willing to go to school, make up her homework, do ordinary things. But she was pale, and Georgie made her go for long walks to get her out in the air. Sometimes Bingo went with her, but more often she went alone and climbed until she was out of breath, then found a place under a tree where she could look down at the hills and dream.

Once Ben went with her. They sat on a log on the side of a steep bank where they could see a valley yellow with blossoms. He told her about his sisters, Barbara, who was a year younger, and Carol, who had taken care of Ben and Barbara when Georgie worked night shift, and the older boys were away at school.

She studied Ben. She was easier with him now, but still—perhaps it was his training. He did not talk lightly, he had to be drawn out. She was becoming more adept at that, though. “Don’t you get bitter sometimes, with the messes you see people get themselves into? Doesn’t it make you sick of people?”

“You get disgusted with them. But it’s the way people are. You just face facts, you see them without their company manners. And it isn’t all bad, you’re close to something basic, something real in people.

“And the men you work with, they’re pretty special. It isn’t just a job. A careless officer can get you killed. You depend on each other.”

“But if it’s dangerous, why did you join the force? Because your family is police? Or because it is dangerous, because you like that?”

He just looked at her.

“Or because it means something?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, I guess because it means something, sure. But you’re in the middle of things, things happen on the street you wouldn’t see anywhere else. Things that make you laugh sometimes, if you don’t lose your sense of humor. You see more in a week than most people ever see. I never thought of doing anything else. Sure, it means something, people couldn’t survive without it. Barbara is getting her law degree because it means something to her.”

She looked puzzled.

“A cop can’t do his job without the law to back him up.”

“Then it’s something you believe in as a family.”

He nodded.

“I think that’s kind of special.” She twisted a leaf and looked down at the valley. She could smell the honey smell of the yellow blossoms. “Were you and Barbara close when you were growing up, did you talk a lot?”

“I used to pass inspection on her boyfriends. I guess you could say we were close. We fought a lot when we were kids, but not mean fighting. We used to tell each other most things. Aren’t you and Bingo like that?”

“Yes, but—well, I have to raise him. Sometimes I’d like it the other way around.”

He was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Yes. I see.”

Chapter 12

I have a confession to make, but just to me. I was mean and small to ever think what I did about the welfare money. Beside me on my desk is our first bankbook, Bingo’s and mine. We signed for it today, and only we can draw from it. It contains all the money that welfare paid Georgie for us, except our allowances. Georgie said she didn’t want any, that it is rightfully ours. I didn’t know what to say to her. By the time Mama gets out we’ll have over five hundred dollars. I deposited our baby-sitting money from the trunk too. It’s a fortune; it’s enough for Bingo and me to have a real beginning when I get out of school.

I thought that we should pay for our board, but Georgie says we have earned that, helping in the house and yard.

I am feeling very ashamed.

I’ve been asked for my first date. Really asked for a date. I’m not going, I turned him down. But I was asked. He’s sort of a drip—is that really why I turned him down, or was I afraid to go on a date with a boy? How do you act on a date?

Or was it that he seemed so dull, compared to Ben?

I guess if Tom Riley in Civics asked me, though, I wouldn’t turn him down. But he hasn’t.

My driving is getting better but I still jerk the clutch sometimes, and that makes people shout at me. Or draw in their breath patiently and wait for me to do it right. I’d rather be shouted at than sighed over. We drive on the little dirt roads in the park, sometimes Georgie, sometimes Ben. Ben was so polite at first, he never got angry no matter what I did. I told him that made me nervous, so now he swears at me sometimes. That’s more comfortable. Jack took me once, but I got stuck in a ditch and he hasn’t taken me since. Well, he’s been on early night duty, so maybe that’s why.

Jack brought us some news of Crystal, and I think he felt bad about it. Clayhill was arrested in Los Angeles with a car full of Mexican marijuana, and he said Crystal had been with him in Mexico. She left him in Tijuana. She ran away with a pusher named Aubin Flick. That was all the information Jack could get, but there is a warrant out for Flick. Poor Crystal, I try not to think what is happening to her, but I dream about her.

And sometimes I dream about Papa, I remember things about Papa as if something here has brought him back to me. The same kind of feeling I must have had when I was six or seven, and Papa was the whole world.

Now Georgie has read my six stories. I think she was pleased. She told me two were very fine and needed only minor editing. She said to put them all away until they could get cold, then to read them again to see what I would do to the other four. I can’t see what she means now, but she says I will. They must get cold first, so I can read them as another reader would.

It’s hard, though, knowing they’re not perfect. Because they felt perfect when I wrote them and I can’t imagine them being any other way. Georgie says I will, though. That’s part of becoming a writer.

And I mustn’t forget: She said two were very fine. I’m glad of that, I needed someone to tell me that. I’ve been feeling rotten lately, Mama’s been so cross. Every time we visit her she’s more difficult than the last time. Sometimes I wonder why we bother to go at all. It makes Bingo very depressed. She’s been so rude to us, and sullen. Partly it’s because of the things I said to her, though she hasn’t mentioned it. She hasn’t said anything about her plans, and I’m too stubborn to ask. She says rude things about the Dermodys. I never should have told her they were a police family. I take her candy and cigarettes. She could thank me just once. I’m not looking forward to going with Mama. It’s only four weeks away. I wonder where Lud’s gone off to. Mama says she hasn’t heard from him. I wonder, though, the way she says it. Maybe without Lud she’ll be willing to settle down. I wanted that more than anything for so long. And yet now—now I must be honest. Now I don’t want Mama to settle down. At least part of me wants to stay here.

I like it here. I like being teased when there’s no meanness in it, and laughing, and sitting around the fire with cocoa, and playing poker for matches with Jack and Ben, and going to the movies with the whole family, and having a sundae after, and acting crazy all the way home. The other night Georgie laughed so hard she broke her bra strap.

But I can’t go back on my word to Mama. After I laid down the law, I have to stick with what I said.