Robin Talley - Pulp

A delicious thrill ran through Janet all the way to her toes. She wished she’d thought to reapply her lipstick.

Marie looked as she always had, with each dark curl in place, her glasses polished to a gleam. Yet she looked older than usual, too, somehow. Her suit was neat, the skirt perfectly tailored where its hem fell around her calves. The jacket was a matching blue flannel, and the string of pearls her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday was wound around her neck.

Janet had never seen her friend look so much like a real grown-up. A lovely grown-up, at that.

“There you are, Janet.” Mom turned from Marie with a lingering smile of her own. Janet’s mother had always been fond of Marie. She talked about her using words like stable and settled . Especially when she sought to admonish Janet.

Janet ignored her and bounced toward Marie. “I’m so glad you came! I have so much to tell you.”

“It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” Marie’s smile was wide enough to match Janet’s own. “I’m terribly sorry I missed your call this morning. I was at an interview.”

“An interview.” Janet’s eyes drifted down to Marie’s neat suit. She flushed. “Of course.”

“I’ve been so nervous.” Marie smiled, and fumbled again with her purse. “It’s wonderful to see you, though.”

“Marie has the most exciting news.” Mom held out a hand, ushering them into the living room. She didn’t approve of dawdling in the foyer. “I’ll bring you girls some refreshments.”

Mom left for the kitchen, where she could still overhear every word they said. Even so, as Janet and Marie took seats on the sofa, Janet leaned in close and said, “I was just looking at our photo from the cheerleading squad last year. I remember that as if it was yesterday.”

“Do you?” Marie smiled. She looked even more sophisticated from this distance. “It seems like a hundred years ago to me.”

Janet’s smile began to fade.

“There we are.” Mom set down a tray of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk, sitting primly in the armchair opposite the cold brick fireplace. “Now, Marie, I simply can’t wait one moment longer to hear what Janet thinks of your news.”

“Well, then, what’s your news, Marie?” Janet wished Dad were here, so they could smile together at this ostentatious etiquette. Mom treated every visitor like President Eisenhower.

Laughter sparkled behind Marie’s eyes, too, but, ever demure, she didn’t let it reach her lips. “I’ve been offered a job, just today. I’m going to be a typist at the Department of State!”

“Marie!” Janet clapped her hands. “That’s marvelous! That’s the kind of job we all dreamed of having, do you remember?”

“Of course.”

Any sort of government work had seemed glamorous to the girls of St. Paul’s Academy. Their mothers had all gone to work as “government girls” during the war, of course, but they’d retired once the men came home. These days only the most elite girls, those capable of passing stringent tests and maintaining the highest personal decorum, were hired to work as government secretaries and typists. Janet’s own distant ambition, of studying journalism in college and working for a newspaper or magazine someday, was far less exciting.

Working for the State Department was perhaps the most prestigious government position of all, surpassed only by working in the White House itself. At the State Department, a girl might meet a famous ambassador or foreign film star. Perhaps there might be a need to travel overseas, to take dictation for an important summit in Paris or Rome, or even some far-flung country like China.

It was all temporary, of course. The true goal, spoken of only through happy whispers over cafeteria lunches, was to meet a government man with an impressive job of his own, perhaps one with a title like director or even undersecretary . Once you were married, you’d leave your job to set up housekeeping so you’d be ready when the children came along.

Of course, though, it was far too early for Marie and Janet to think about any of that .

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Janet said, still beaming. “Didn’t you have the highest marks of all the girls coming out of school?”

Marie cast down her eyes. “Thank you, Janet. I was hoping we could go out tonight to celebrate, but your mother said you’re working.”

“Oh, no, I’m not. Let’s go celebrate!” When Mom raised her eyebrows, Janet hastily added, “Sorry, ma’am, I was confused about my schedule. May I please have permission to go out with Marie?”

“Certainly.”

“Wonderful! If we leave now we can catch the streetcar pulling in.”

Marie rose instantly, nodding toward the untouched milk glasses. “Thank you for the refreshments, Mrs. Jones.”

“Of course.” Mom’s plastered-on smile stayed firm as she eyed Janet’s plain blouse and jeans. “Janet, Marie and I will wait here while you change.”

Janet longed to be out the door, but her mother was right. Janet rarely wore much makeup, and most days she preferred Bermudas and button-downs to frills and fashion, but no restaurant in Georgetown would let her in for dinner wearing pants. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”

She ran upstairs, exchanged her jeans for a simple plaid skirt and stockings, and ran back down. Mom eyed her again, probably wishing Janet had at least taken the time to run a comb through her short blond curls, but all she said was, “You girls have a lovely evening. Marie, please do send your mother my regards.”

“I will, ma’am, thank you.”

Janet grabbed her purse, took Marie by the arm and pulled her out the door before her mother could launch into a new round of pleasantries. The streetcar was already clanging as it approached the end of their block, and the girls had to run. Marie’s high heels made her stumble, and Janet, in her ballet flats, was faster. She stepped onto the wide streetcar platform and held out her hand to help Marie aboard as the car pulled out, both girls laughing so hard the driver admonished them with a glare as they started north up Wisconsin Avenue.

It was exhilarating to be going out without her parents on the spur of the moment this way. Janet was certain Mom wouldn’t have allowed it if she’d been with anyone but Marie, and she flushed with pleasure at the thought.

“I thought we’d go to Meaker’s for dinner.” Marie squirmed through the crush of after-work passengers, struggling to keep her footing as the car lurched forward. A man in a fedora reached for her elbow to steady her, nearly dropping his cigarette.

“That sounds perfect.” Janet smiled at the man until he released Marie’s arm.

The two of them made their way to the back of the car. Janet couldn’t stop herself from staring down at Marie’s clothes. The perfect fit of her suit. The way she stood gripping the ceiling strap, with one heel turned out to steady herself as the streetcar rocked over bumps. The shape of her legs, so pretty in her stockings. It reminded Janet of—

The book. It reminded Janet of the picture on the cover of A Love So Strange.

She swallowed and tried, again, to make herself breathe.

“Are you all right?” Marie peered at Janet tremulously as the streetcar swung beneath them.

“I’m fine.” Janet had never felt finer, in fact.

“You’re sure? Meaker’s is just another block, but we can catch the car going the opposite way if you need to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.” As they reached their stop, Janet hopped past Marie down to the sidewalk, glad to feel earth beneath her feet once more. She wasn’t quite sure what type of place Meaker’s might be, but she didn’t care. “We have to celebrate, don’t we?”