Glenn's Girl

What everybody seems to forget is that Glenn was home from college when he met Thelma and all this happened. To hear the talk, you would think he had been going with her since grade school and had never looked at another girl. It wasn't like that at all. And I'm the one guy who should know.

I took Thelma out right after she moved into town. We lived on the same block and I saw her one day leaning on her front gate. I went up and introduced myself and it was the easiest thing in the world. That was the trouble, it was too easy.

Instead of going to a movie or something first, I went straight out and parked, and there wasn't much in the way of preliminaries. That was why I stopped taking her out. Maybe I'm something of a romantic. I like to think that a girl really wants to be chaste but that she likes a guy so much, or one thing leads to another, and she just can't help herself. But when I feel that it could have been almost any other guy with her, then everything goes out of it except the thrill.

About a week later Glenn and I were hanging around the creamery when Thelma came in. She smiled hello to me and walked past. It was an innocent enough smile. One thing about Thelma, you never could have guessed what kind of a girl she was until you got to know her.

"Who she?" Glenn asked.

"New girl in town," I said offhand. "She lives up my way."

Maybe the fact that she was new interested him. I doubt that it was anything else, because Thelma was too ordinary looking for someone like Glenn. He was about the handsomest guy in town. Thelma had a good figure, but other than that she was kind of plain, though certainly not homely.

"What's she like?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Look for yourself."

So he did. He stared at her where she had taken a seat in a booth. And when he turned again he had a smile.

"Does she put out?"

A year ago that question would have surprised me. Glenn had always been careful not to do any chasing in town. There were plenty of girls who would have gone to meet him more than halfway in the chasing, but he steered clear of them. He went to the proms and the senior balls and took out the real beauties, and everything looked so proper that for a time some of us thought he was a prude.

Then at college everything changed. I know because I roomed with him. About halfway through the school year he had his first experience with sex, and from the way he acted I guess he thought he discovered it. There just wasn't anything else in life. He gave up studying and for a while I thought he was going to flunk out of school. He pulled through all right, but not by much. That was why his question about Thelma didn't surprise me.

Again I shrugged. "Yeah, she puts out."

As far as I know, that is the only statement ever made by anyone in our town that might have given Thelma a bad reputation. I had no qualms about telling Glenn. Not at the time. Everybody was bound to learn what kind of a girl she was before long. But I'm glad now that I never told anyone but him.

"Give me a knockdown," Glenn said that day. So I introduced them. For a while we all sat in a booth. Then I left and Glenn took her out that night. I thought I knew what would happen. I had seen him take out girls at college. But what I did not count on was his going with Thelma all that summer.

That was when she started to be known as Glenn's girl. It was about as much as anyone knew about her. Nearly every night they were together, driving up to the city or somewhere else out of town. Whenever you saw Thelma it was usually pushed up close to Glenn in the front seat of his car.

Another thing different was that Glenn did not talk about Thelma the way he did the girls at college. When I asked him how she was, he would just smile and say, "Fine." Of course, he said it in a certain way so I knew. But he never told me outright. I guess he still wanted to protect his good name in town. When summer was over and he had to go back to school, he would forget Thelma. In the meantime he would have his fun and keep it secret.

But then the summer did not end that way. Glenn and I had gotten on with the county surveying crew as chainmen and we worked on a project down along the river. It was a good job because we could strip down and get a good suntan and yet the work was not strenuous. Then too, we always took our swim trunks along. The river past our town is too swift for good swimming, but here and there we would find a cove and take a dip during the lunch hour.

On a day toward the last of August, when we had only a couple of weeks or so left on the job, we were working close to the covered bridge where the town kids like to fish. Glenn and I had just taken a swim north of there and then eaten our lunch. We always swam before eating so we wouldn't get cramps. It was about time to go back to work and we were lacing up our boots when one of the kids fell off the bridge.

We heard the yelling and saw the kid bobbing up and down at the middle of the river. He obviously didn't know how to swim. He had both arms up in the air, not trying to save himself at all.

You never think at a time like that. You do something and do it quick. I started to take off all my clothes. But Glenn didn't wait for that. He kicked off his boots and jumped in with his pants on. And he was almost to the kid by the time I was ready.

There was no point in my going (continued on page 106) Glenn's Girl(continued from page 51) in then. When I saw that Glenn had everything under control, I stayed on shore. He had a little trouble quieting the kid, who wanted to clamp his arms around Glenn's neck. But Glenn soothed him and then they started back. With one arm around the boy's chest, Glenn stroked toward the bank with the other. The current carried them downstream and I kept shifting that way on shore to be ready to meet them.

They were only 40 feet away when I saw Glenn stop. His face twisted up in a spasm and I guessed what it was. A cramp had hit him. But for some reason he did not let go. His arm was still around the boy's chest and they drifted downstream together. That was when I dove in.

No one ever blamed me. I could only take one at a time and Glenn told me out there, "Take the kid."

"I'll come back for you," I said.

But I must have known then how it would be. Just getting the kid to shore was a struggle. He had gotten panicky again and was thrashing and I had to fight him as much as I did the current. But before long I felt a rock bruise against my shoulder, and that was about as welcome a feeling as I've ever known. I dropped the kid among the rocks on shore and turned to look for Glenn.

He was gone. I thought at least he would bob up and down a few times. But the kids on the bridge told me he went under and never came up again. I was going to swim out anyway, because just standing there wasn't going to help him. But the county engineer came along then and grabbed me and wouldn't let me go in. He said it was bad enough losing one without both of us drowning and unless I saw him I'd better stay right where I was. And no one did see him again until we found his body that night caught in a snag of brush half a mile downstream.

The hero was Glenn, and that was how it should have been. I got some praise all right. But a live hero is never as good as a dead one. And the local paper gave almost the entire front page to the story. They kept repeating how such a promising, bright future had been cut short, how the town's finest young man had selflessly given his life to save that of a small boy. There just weren't enough nice things they could say about Glenn. And that was how everyone in town felt, including me.

Then there was Thelma. Somehow the paper got the story that they were engaged. It was never confirmed and no one bothered to ask her. But the story was accepted because nearly everyone wanted it that way, for Glenn's sake if not for hers.

All through the services at the chapel Thelma sat with Glenn's mother. I heard comments later about how sad she looked. But I thought she looked more scared than anything else. She cried nearly as much as Glenn's mother, and they were real tears. But everyone seemed to be staring at Thelma and she did not know what they expected from her, how they wanted her to act, so she grew more frightened. She tried to look sadder and more bereaved and when she could not manage it she cried more and once broke into sobs. That was when Glenn's mother put her arm around Thelma to console her, and then they sobbed together for a while.

• • •

Not until the following summer, when I returned from my second year of college, did I see Thelma again. But I knew pretty well what she was doing. Every letter from my mother had something in it about Glenn's girl, and when I was home during Christmas and the spring holidays I heard much more.

If I could believe the stories, Thelma had turned into something of a recluse. For six months after the funeral she did not go out with anyone, and then when she did go out, it was to a movie with her mother. She had become unapproachable, never smiling, yet the eyes of others followed her everywhere she went. Then too she had taken a job at the local bank where she need not speak to anyone except about business.

There was so much of this kind of talk and everyone seemed to believe it, that I might have gone along with it too if I had not learned something else. Of course, I had dated Thelma first, and I knew things about her and Glenn that no one else suspected. Still I might not have doubted the changes in Thelma. But at college that year I happened to run into a fellow from the town where she used to live.

"You're from Royalton, huh?" I said. "Did you ever hear of a girl up there named Thelma Farling?"

"Thelma? Sure." One side of his mouth curled up. "You run into her someplace?"

"She lives down the street from me."

"You lucky guy."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He looked at me as if to make sure I wasn't joking. "Don't tell me you haven't found out yet?"

"Is there something to find out?"

Then he laughed. And in a singsong way, as though he were reciting a favorite limerick, he said, "We used to call her Teddy. That was short for Ready-Teddy. When you needed a girl and needed her quick, you looked up Teddy. She was always ready."

So when I got home for the summer and heard more of that talk about Thelma, I couldn't help being skeptical. She might have changed. But I kept remembering how easy she had been that one time I took her out, and everything else. So about my third or fourth night home, when my mother started telling again in an awesome voice how tragic and beautiful it was about Glenn's girl, I decided to find out for myself.

There was no surprise at all from Thelma when I phoned. "Oh, hello, Chuck. Are you home for the summer?" It was polite, but almost as though she were waiting on someone at the bank.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" I had enough doubt in my mind both ways so I felt awkward in everything I said.

"No, not really."

"How would you like to drive up to the city to see a movie?"

There was a long pause that made me think I had been a fool. Then very calmly, as though it did not matter one way or the other, she answered, "All right."

Getting a date with her was almost as easy as the first time. But when I saw her that night I knew she had changed, in appearance if no other way. And it was a change for the better. Her features were as plain as before, but there was a new stillness to her face, as though it had settled into the position it would hold for the rest of her life. And she was still young enough so it gave her an air.

Then too she had on an all-white dress. I nearly smiled when I first saw it, but something suppressed that smile. Maybe she was trying to play the saint. But then it was a warm summer evening and the dress was sleeveless and cool and it showed her off very well. She had nicely turned arms and I could see the full length of them hanging at her sides. As an extra touch, she had on white gloves and carried a small white purse.

Maybe because of her dress or the change I could see in her, I was being over-courteous, almost against my will. And on the way to the city I could find very little to say. There was no opening. I would glance at her and see all that white and my throat would clog. And nearly every time I did speak, it was to say something foolish.

Once I blurted, "I hear you haven't been going out much."

"No one asked me," she said. And what was I to answer?

All through the show her hands were folded in her lap and hardly moved. She neither laughed nor cried. But when I asked her later if she enjoyed the movie, she said, "Yes, very much."

I don't want to give the impression that I took her straight from there out to a parking place to test her. But eventually we did park. After all, that was the only reason I had dated her.

We stopped at the same place where we had gone the other time I took her out. But where before Thelma had suggested almost immediately that we get into the back seat, now she sat coolly and I had to force any conversation. Then once when I felt she was talking more freely, I leaned over, put one hand on her shoulder and kissed her. She did not push me away, but neither was there any response.

"Please, Chuck. Don't."

She said no more than that. But it was as thoroughly as I had ever been stopped by a girl. It was not the words but how she said them, as though I should have had more respect.

But it made me angry too. After all, she was the same girl I had taken out before. She had spent a whole summer practically in the back seat of Glenn's car. She was the one they called Ready-Teddy in Royalton. Now because my hand had touched that white dress, and because I had pecked her once on the lips, she made me feel dirty.

But angry or not, there was nothing else I could do. She really did not want to be touched or kissed. I had been told "No" and "Don't" and "Please" by enough girls to be able to tell when they meant it sternly, meant it weakly or did not mean it at all. Thelma meant it.

Yet she did kiss me goodnight. That was it, she kissed me. We stood on her porch with the light on and she said:

"Thanks, Chuck. For everything. You don't know how much I needed to go out like this. To find out about myself."

Then, turning up her face, she kissed me. I tried to cling, expectant once more, but there would be none of that. She thanked me again without smiling and left me on the porch like a kid who had been taken out snipe hunting.

I thought I would never have anything to do with her again. I had pretty much gotten my answer. If she wanted to go along with her conversion to whatever she had been converted to, that was no concern of mine. So I went home that night a little amazed but willing enough to let her drop out of my life.

But then a strange thing happened. By taking her out that once I had opened the floodgates. The word got around that she could be dated and there were at least a dozen guys I could name who started calling her. Not that she went out with all of them. The truth is, she did not go out much at all, only now and then, but that seemed to make every other single guy in town run after her more.

If she were pretty, or if she had become a Ready-Teddy again. I could have understood her sudden popularity. But Thelma wasn't either. Many of the girls in town were prettier and more cooperative. And it wasn't until well into the summer that I began to understand what it was all about.

I worked in my dad's auto supply store that year and now and then he would send me to the bank. On a Monday morning I went down with Saturday's receipts. I saw Thelma busy at a cabinet file. Then when I finished my business and looked up, she motioned that she wanted to talk to me.

"Will you have lunch with me today?" she asked, leaning through one of the cashier's windows that was not being used.

It took me by surprise. But then I couldn't very well refuse, not there in the bank.

"Sure."

"Twelve at the Bonnet Lunch?"

"All right."

We took a booth at the rear of the Bonnet Lunch and Thelma started talking before the waitress came.

"Maybe I shouldn't be asking you," she said. "I should ask another girl. But there aren't any that I know well enough. And you were Glenn's friend."

"Are you in trouble?" I asked.

She did not blush, though it was obvious what I meant. "No, nothing like that."

I understood then why she had chosen me of all people. I was the only one who knew the truth about her and Glenn. No one else could have asked her that question.

Then she said, "Robie Cowan asked me to marry him."

I raised both eyebrows, then tipped my head to one side in a congratulatory nod.

"Not bad."

The waitress came along with menus and glasses of water and that interrupted our talk. I knew Robie, of course. He was some five years older than I. The year before his father had died and Robie had taken over the agency that dealt in farm machinery and Fords. The Town Crier in the local paper often referred to him as "our most eligible bachelor." Maybe he wasn't as handsome as Glenn, but he had looks enough. And he also had money and name enough to make me wonder what he was doing asking Thelma to marry him.

When we were alone again, Thelma took a sip of water before she said, "Should I go through with it?"

"Are you asking me?"

"I need advice. I just can't make up my mind."

Maybe I should have felt sorry for her. But just then she irritated me. I felt like being brutal and saying nasty things to tear down all her pretenses.

"What is there to make up your mind about?" I asked. "If you like the guy, go ahead and marry him."

"Oh, I like him all right. But . . ."

"But what?"

"I heard some talk. One of the girls said he was a wolf."

The last word dropped off coyly and it sickened me with disgust.

"You ought to be able to judge that for yourself." I didn't hide the sarcasm.

"He's been a perfect gentleman with me. He hasn't tried a thing."

"He hasn't?"

My surprise surprised her. "Of course not. But I was worried about his reputation. Does he have a reputation, Chuck?"

Right then and there I almost called her Teddy. No matter what rumors she had heard about Robie, they could not have been as bad as what I had heard about her. And I had enough first-hand experience with Thelma to know it was more than just a rumor. Robie liked to have a good time, and he had plenty of them. There was one story about a girl in the city that his father had to buy off. And he did a lot of running around at home where everyone could see him. But that was no reason for Thelma to be particular.

"Look," I said, almost pointing my finger at her, "if you want to marry the guy, what difference does it make what either of you did in the past?"

"But don't you see, it's not a case of what I want."

"No, I don't see."

Her eyes quivered and I could tell she was afraid. The cool manner was gone. This looked more like the girl I had seen in the chapel, frightened, unsure of herself. And when she spoke again it was in a voice I could barely hear.

"Everyone's been so good to me."

I was glad the waitress returned just then because I did not know what to say. A salad was placed before Thelma and I got a bowl of soup and a sandwich. The waitress went for our milk and the two of us sat in silence.

That was the first inkling I had. Everyone had been good to Thelma after Glenn died, though they hardly knew her. Actually, it was Glenn they were being good to, or the memory of Glenn. And because she had been Glenn's girl when he died, they acted that way toward Thelma.

Then I began to understand something else too. She was popular for the same reason. It wasn't that Robie or the others thought she was beautiful, and chances were that they knew very little about her character. But because Glenn had been engaged to her, and Glenn being what he was, they must have thought she had something they could not see. All Thelma had to do was play it calmly and let them think what they wanted to think.

The waitress left again after bringing the milk and Thelma said in that same low voice, as though our conversation had not been interrupted:

"I don't want to disappoint them. Chuck."

She was still frightened and tears lurked at the brims of her eyes. If I went on being sarcastic, those tears might flow. But there were things I had to find out.

"Did Glenn ever ask you to marry him?"

Her eyes closed, but she shook her head, and I felt like a prosecuting attorney must feel sometimes.

"You knew he was just using you for the summer?"

This time she had to suck in her bottom lip. But she nodded and the tears were held back.

"Then what was all this act you were putting on, like a forlorn maiden?"

"I wasn't acting, Chuck. Please believe me."

Her head shook again, but not in denial, as if to say I could not understand. And when she spoke again she sounded lonely and far away:

"After Glenn died, everyone made up their minds what kind of girl I was. And I just couldn't be anything else, even if I wanted to. They were all so good to me I couldn't disappoint them."

And the first slow, leaking tear killed all my hardness. As I said before, I'm something of a romantic. I like to think a girl really wants to do what is right. So before she finished speaking, I could not face her any longer. My eyes dropped. I picked up the spoon and let it sink into the soup.

Then with the spoon suspended halfway to my mouth, I said, "Robie doesn't have the best reputation in town."

"Then I can't marry him."

And I fell in love with her that instant. I didn't know it at the time. But that's when it was, at the Bonnet Lunch, before I tasted that first spoonful of soup.

That's why the other day when I heard someone call her Glenn's girl again it didn't bother me. I was in the supermarket and I overheard two men talking in the next aisle.

"What's her name?" one of them said. "The one that married Chuck Rafferty. You know, Glenn's girl. Now that's my idea of what a good wife ought to be."

Fourteen years now she's been Glenn's girl. And not once in 14 years have I come close to telling her that I know they used to call her Teddy.