Chapter 14
cinematheque with madcap

Dear Blessed Mother, Thank you for the sign! It was truly exciting to watch Bitty give birth to all those kittens. You could tell it hurt, but she did it anyway. I am now confessing to you, in the hopes that I can finally come clean. I am sorry to disappoint you, but, in spite of my success with Camp Holy Hill, I don’t want to be a nun. There, I said it. I just couldn’t keep on pretending, especially after being with Bitty giving birth. I realize I want a man who will love me and hold me tight. I want a baby. I want to be a mother like you. I want a good husband like Joseph and a sweet baby like Jesus. Did you want a baby when you were twelve years old?

We were all kneeling around the statues in the living room. The air was cooling; my lungs hurt from gulping smog at the Pasadena Athletic Club swimming pool this afternoon. The Blessed Mother’s frozen expression on her tiny plaster head was sweet and wistful, but the song “Puff the Magic Dragon” was distracting me from the mysteries of the rosary. I looked down at the Hawaiian hibiscus flower pattern on my mumu. Clara’s was just like mine from the same pattern, but in different shades; come to think of it, all the girls had mumus on. The fan rotated in front of us, spraying cool air over there then whooshing back over to here. The little kids wore their lightweight cotton pjs and had post-Jiffy Bath wet hair. Jude squirmed on Mother’s lap. Everyone slouched back on their heels. Even Clara sat in the armchair behind us, her flowered dress piled up in front of her. Daddy didn’t seem to mind the lazy piety we demonstrated. Madcap knelt, antsy next to me; we had planned to see a movie at Cal Tech Cinematheque together after the rosary.

“Let’s say some extra prayers for peace,” Daddy announced as we neared the end of rosary. “And for Clara. She’s going to be going away for a retreat,” Daddy said, “with the Sisters of Saint Isabella. She’ll be staying with them for a few months in a place called Ventura. Hopefully, she’ll be back in time for Christmas.”

So Clara’s going to become a nun! I slunk back on my heels. Everyone turned their heads to Clara, who was looking down at her lap. It wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t tell if she was happy about it, or what.

“We’ll miss you, Clara!” Buddy said, getting up from his excellent position at the corner of the couch and putting both his arms around her legs.

“Yeah, why are you going away?” Rosie said, as she immediately moved right into his excellent position on the couch.

“She’s going to be a nun, I bet,” John-the-Blimp offered. I turned towards Clara.

“That’s a great order, Clara, the Sisters of Saint Isabella,” I said. “Their habit, the rope around the waist.” Right after those words were in the air, I felt something was strange here. I couldn’t figure it out. A retreat?

“Clara is going on a retreat to ask for God’s blessing and forgiveness,” Daddy said.

She’s going on a retreat to ask for forgiveness? I had to ask myself. All she has to do is go to confession. Why does she have to go to Ventura to ask for forgiveness?

“What’s a retreat?” asked Buddy.

“Yeah, a treat?” asked Markie.

“Tree! Tree!” cried Jude.

“Hey, can we get a treat, too?” asked Buddy.

“A retreat is a time away, a chance to say prayers and ask for God’s help in your life.” What was he hinting at? Forgiveness for what? Everything he said sounded like we were at a sermon. Clara’s silence made it all seem rehearsed. I watched her for a clue. Her mousey brown hair puffed up around her round cheeks. Although exceptionally coiffed for such a casual gathering, she seemed resigned and sad and kept puffing up her dress on her lap in front of her, looking at the beautiful colors of her mumu.

“When is she going?” I asked.

“She’s leaving Sunday. I’m going to drive her up the coast.”

And that was that.

After we were dismissed from the rosary, Madcap and I slipped out to go to Cal Tech for their movie program. As usual Madcap looked beautiful; she had shampooed her hair before the rosary and stood over the heating vents combing it dry with the cool air coming up from the basement. Straight black hair to her waist. Mine was still bunching at my shoulders, wiry and uncontrollable. It would never look like hers. I wasn’t really that interested in the movies themselves; I was there to sit next to her while Madcap flirted with the boys. No one seemed to notice me. The boys had their eyes on Madcap and that was fine with me. I felt invisible but right next to the action. I wanted to soak it all up so that when I was old enough to go out on a date, and tame my red mane, I’d know what to do.

The films were in black and white. That night we were watching Birth of a Nation, a long one with lots of silent anguish on people’s faces, many extras, horses running across the screen, and gunfire. The Ku Klux Klan, grown men running around in white sheets and pointed hats, burned huge crosses. I was hungry for a snack; I wanted to go to Bob’s Big Boy and have the salad with bleu cheese dressing; I had just enough money for that and it was calling out to me with cartoon speech bubbles hovering around my pocket, reminding me how hungry I was. Madcap laughed or sucked in her breath with an “oh!” at all the right times, and we were all swept up by the marching orchestra music. In the dark at first it seemed cool between my legs, and then my panties seemed wet, so I went out to the restroom.

Just as I locked the door behind me I noticed a dispenser on the wall above the sink. Sanitary Napkins, it said, five cents. I didn’t want to think about the hairs “down there” again, but there it was. A nickel! For a napkin? That’s outrageous. It costs as much as a loaf of bread. And what do we need napkins for in a restroom? Then I remembered: maybe other girls shaved their hairs and cut themselves, too. That’s embarrassing, but kind of comforting. But five cents! What a gyp.

When I pulled down my capris there was blood all over my underpants! The blood wasn’t from the shaving; that was weeks ago. It was coming out from between my legs. From inside my body. Oh, my God I am heartily sorry for having offended thee. This called for immediate prayers, directly to the source. I wiped myself with toilet paper, which promptly soaked up more blood. Oh, my God! Please don’t make me die. I’ll go to confession about the lies, I promise, I promise, I promise! Luckily I was wearing the mumu. I stripped down so I could rinse out my underpants at the basin sink. I wrung them out almost dry, put them back on, and stuffed gobs of Kleenex in my underpants. I remembered to say a prayer. Dear Mother of God, you guys have my attention. I’ll do anything. Have mercy; I’m only twelve years old!

Madcap was still in the dark, watching the movie.

“Psssst, Madcap. C’mere.”

She glanced over at me, frowning. “What?”

“You gotta come.”

“What? Gimmie a hint!”

“Shhhhh,” someone said behind her.

“It’s urgent!” I pleaded, whispering across a couple of other people sitting in the aisle seats. I’m dying in the most embarrassing way. Maybe I could beam that thought over to her. I waved my hands again and again like c’mere! c’mere! and she finally got up, squished past the knees of the two others, and went with me. I locked the ladies’ room door behind us. It was just the two of us in there.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I’m dying of something.”

“Sick to your stomach?”

“I’m gushing blood. Down there.”

“You finally got it!”

“What?”

“That’s your period.”

“Oh… my period?”

“The thing Mother hinted about.”

“But it’s just coming out of my body, down there. I stuffed my underpants with T.P.”

“That’s your vagina.”

“What’s your vagina?”

“You know how you go wee-wee and bo-bo?”

“Duh.”

“There’s another hole down there. It’s a vagina. It’s in the middle. Girls have three holes and boys only have two.”

What? This was just unbelievable. I had another hole down there? And blood was coming out of it right now? I felt a bit dizzy, trying to understand.

“Don’t worry, you won’t bleed to death,” Madcap said. It’s the beginning of growing up.”

Well, not exactly the beginning, I thought, remembering the hairs. “But what’s it for?”

“It’s for when the baby gets made in your stomach.”

“But what’s the blood for?”

“It’s for the baby when it’s growing inside you; it comes out when you don’t have the baby.”

“I don’t get it. I’ve never had a baby, but the blood is coming out anyway.”

“Every month, it prepares for a baby.”

“How long does it come out for?”

“I don’t know, three days, or five. Sometimes I get cramps.”

“Cramps?”

“Yeah, cramps, like when you have hard bo-bo and it won’t come out. Sometimes you get cramps. It prepares you to give birth.”

“The blood prepares you for giving birth?”

“The cramps do.”

I stood there looking at myself in the mirror, disliking this growing up thing altogether. I had an inspiration. No wonder Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up! On second thought, Peter Pan was a boy. He didn’t have any of this weird stuff to deal with. At least I don’t think they have to deal with this stuff. Do they? Maybe they probably grow hairs down there too, and have other weird bodily secrets.

“You have to get some sanitary napkins and a belt,” Madcap, said, all business now. “Oh look, they have some here. Do you have five cents? Or a dime? You can stuff one of these in your underpants even if you don’t have a belt.” I reached in my pocket and felt the shape of a quarter in my hand.

“Aren’t we going to Bob’s?” I had just enough money for their little salad with the bleu cheese dressing.

“We could go to Bob’s.” Madcap said. “Dwight usually likes to go after the movie.”

Hmmm, I thought. Salad? Or sanitary napkin? Bleu cheese dressing? Or blood all over my pants? I pointed to the dispenser.

“How long do these napkins last?”

“If you just stick it in your underpants, it’ll probably last at least until we get home.”

“I’ve already got a wad of Kleenex in there,” I said, “maybe the Kleenex will last until we get to Bob’s.” Madcap shrugged.

I held onto my quarter.