“Because she... might be able to help me. To tell me... what to do.” She paused to take a deep gulp of air. “Aren’t they supposed to be experienced with these kinds of things?”
Bitty sat up straight, looking at Margaret with an expression that said she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.
“What do you mean?” Ceecee asked. “What on earth could aprostitutetell you?”
Ignoring Ceecee, Bitty hissed, “You don’t want that, Margaret. You know you don’t. You coulddie. That’s a whole lot worse than any shame you think you need to hide from the world. You and Reggie love each other. There’s no shame in that.”
“Shame in what?” Ceecee nearly screamed, unable to understand what they were talking about.
Bitty reached into her pocketbook, pulled out her cigarettes, and lit one, regardless of what Ceecee or anyone else might think. “We need to reach Reggie. Let him know.”
Margaret squeezed Bitty’s arm, her nails unkempt and chewed down to the quick. “He’ll come back for me then, won’t he?”
“I don’t know,” Bitty said softly. “But we have to at least try. For everyone’s sake.” She looked at Ceecee when she said that, and it made her shiver.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Ceecee said, loudly enough that a man and woman walking nearby looked up.
Bitty smiled at them and waited for them to pass before taking another deep drag from her cigarette. “She’s pregnant, Ceecee. Margaret’s going to have a baby.”
Ceecee sat down heavily next to Margaret, sick to her stomach as all sorts of thoughts ran through her head, the most shameful one being that Margaret couldn’t be her bridesmaid now since she would certainly be showing by the time Ceecee walked down the aisle.
“Have you told your parents?” she asked.
Margaret shook her head. “How can I? They’d be so ashamed. They’d disown me.”
Ceecee put her arm around Margaret’s shoulders. “I know this is hard. But you love Reggie and he loves you, and you’re going to have a baby. A baby! Reggie’s baby. I know this isn’t what you planned, but it’s not the end of the world. You know that, right?”
It took a moment, but Margaret finally nodded.
Ceecee continued. “If we put our heads together, we can come up with a plan. We’ll help you figure out what to do. You’re not alone. Bitty and I are here. We’re friends forever, remember?”
She looked over Margaret’s head at Bitty for confirmation. But Bitty simply stared at her, then blew out a mouthful of smoke, obscuring her face.
twenty-one
Larkin
2010
I parked my rental car at the curb in front of the Lynches’ house and picked up the macaroni casserole Ceecee had given me to take to Sunday dinner. I paused before heading down the familiar front walk, staring up at the white Victorian with its deep wraparound porch. Weeds still grew between the pavers, and Mrs. Lynch’s vinca and ageratum shouted and waved from various pots on the porch and beds in the yard. I knew if I looked closely at the corner of the third paver from the end, I’d see my initials carved next to those of Mabry and Bennett. Immortalized together in concrete.
“They’re still there,” Mabry called from the porch where she sat in a metal rocker with Ellis in her lap.
I stopped to look down, and saw she was right. The space next to our initials, reserved at the time for the initials of our future children, was filled only with green lichen.
“Sure are.” I continued walking, listening to the strains of music sifting through the screened door. “‘What Kind of Fool (Do You Think I Am)’ by Bill Deal and the Rhondels.”
“Dang, you’re good,” Mabry said as she stood, placing Ellis on hisfeet. “I’m going to assume you’re right, because I have no idea. You could be making stuff up for all I know.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Ha. You couldn’t lie if you wanted to. I think that’s why all the kids in school were scared of you—because they knew you’d tell them stuff they didn’t want to hear. Of all the things Ceecee taught you, that one’s a keeper for sure.”
“Seriously? It was a good thing for my peers to avoid me?”
“Sure. If they didn’t want to hear the truth, then they wouldn’t have been worthy of being your friend.” She sniffed deeply. “Let me guess—Ceecee’s macaroni casserole.”
“Of course. Some things never change.”