A Stranger in the Mirror

chapter 17
At seventeen, Josephine Czinski was the most beautiful girl in Odessa, Texas. She had a golden, tanned complexion and her long black hair showed a hint of auburn in the sunlight, and her deep brown eyes held flecks of gold. She had a stunning figure, with a full, rounded bosom, a narrow waist that tapered to gently swelling hips, and long, shapely legs.

Josephine did not socialize with the Oil People anymore. She went out with the Others now. After school she worked as a waitress at the Golden Derrick, a popular drive-in. Mary Lou and Cissy Topping and their friends came there with their dates. Josephine always greeted them politely; but everything had changed.

Josephine was filled with a restlessness, a yearning for something she had never known. It was nameless, but it was there. She wanted to leave this ugly town, but she did not know where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. Thinking about it too long made her headaches begin.

She went out with a dozen different boys and men. Her mother's favorite was Warren Hoffman.

"Warren'd make you a fine husband. He's a regular church-goer, he earns good money as a plumber and he's half out of his head about you."

"He's twenty-five years old and he's fat."

Her mother studied Josephine. "Poor Polack girls don't find no knights in shinin' armor. Not in Texas and not noplace else. Stop foolin' yourself."

Josephine would permit Warren Hoffman to take her to the movies once a week. He would hold her hand in his big, sweaty, calloused palms and keep squeezing it throughout the picture. Josephine hardly noticed. She was too engrossed in what was happening on the screen. What was up there was an extension of the world of beautiful people and things that she had grown up with, only it was even bigger and even more exciting. In some dim recess of her mind, Josephine felt that Hollywood could give her everything she wanted: the beauty, the fun, the laughter and happiness. Aside from marrying a rich man, she knew there was no other way she would ever be able to have that kind of life. And the rich boys were all taken, by the rich girls.

Except for one.

David Kenyon. Josephine thought of him often. She had stolen a snapshot of him from Mary Lou's house long ago. She kept it hidden in her closet and took it out to look at whenever she was unhappy. It brought back the memory of David standing by the side of the pool saying, I apologize for all of them, and the feeling of hurt had gradually disappeared and been replaced by his gentle warmth. She had seen David only once after that terrible day at his swimming pool when he had brought her a robe. He had been in a car with his family, and Josephine later heard that he had been driven to the train depot. He was on his way to Oxford, England. That had been four years ago, in 1952. David had returned home for summer vacations and at Christmas, but their paths had never crossed. Josephine often heard the other girls discussing him. In addition to the estate David had inherited from his father, his grandmother had left him a trust fund of five million dollars. He was a real catch. But not for the Polish daughter of a seamstress.

Josephine did not know that David Kenyon had returned from Europe. It was a late Saturday evening in July, and Josephine was working at the Golden Derrick. It seemed to her that half the population of Odessa had come to the drive-in to defeat the hot spell with gallons of lemonade and ice cream and sodas. It had been so busy that Josephine had been unable to take a break. A ring of autos constantly circled the neon-lighted drive-in like metallic animals lined up at some surrealistic water hole. Josephine delivered a car tray with what seemed to her to be her millionth order of cheeseburgers and Cokes, pulled out a menu and walked over to a white sports car that had just driven up.

"Good evening," Josephine said cheerfully. "Would you like to look at a menu?"

"Hello, stranger."

At the sound of David Kenyon's voice, Josephine's heart suddenly began to pound. He looked exactly as she remembered him, only he seemed even more handsome. There was a maturity now, a sureness, that being abroad had given him. Cissy Topping was seated next to him, looking cool and beautiful in an expensive silk skirt and blouse.

Cissy said, "Hi, Josie. You shouldn't be working on a hot night like this, honey."

As though it was something Josephine had chosen to do instead of going to an air-conditioned theater or riding around in a sports car with David Kenyon.

Josephine said evenly, "It keeps me off the streets," and she saw that David Kenyon was smiling at her. She knew that he understood.

Long after they had gone, Josephine thought about David. She went over every word - Hello, stranger...I'll have a pig in a blanket and a root beer - make that coffee. Cold drinks are bad on a hot night.... How do you like working here?...I'm ready for the check...Keep the change.... It was nice seeing you again, Josephine - looking for hidden meanings, nuances that she might have missed. Of course, he could not have said anything with Cissy seated beside him, but the truth was that he really had nothing to say to Josephine. She was surprised that he had even remembered her name.

She was standing in front of the sink in the little kitchen of the drive-in, lost in her thoughts, when Paco, the young Mexican cook, came up behind her and said, "¿Que pasa, Josita? You have that look een your eye."

She liked Paco. He was in his late twenties, a slim, dark-eyed man with a ready grin and a flip joke when pressure built up and everyone was tense.

"Who ees he?"

Josephine smiled. "Nobody, Paco."

"Bueno. Because there are seex hungry cars goin' crazy out there. Vamos!"

He telephoned the next morning, and Josephine knew who it was before she lifted the receiver. She had not been able to get him out of her mind all night. It was as though this call was the extension of her dream.

His first words were, "You're a cliche. While I was away, you've grown up and become a beauty," and she could have died of happiness.

He took her out to dinner that evening. Josephine had been prepared for some out-of-the-way little restaurant where David would not be likely to run into any of his friends. Instead they went to his club, where everyone stopped by their table to say hello. David was not only unashamed to be seen with Josephine, he seemed proud of her. And she loved him for it and for a hundred other reasons. The look of him, his gentleness and understanding, the sheer joy of being with him. She had never known that anyone as wonderful as David Kenyon could exist.

Each day, after Josephine finished work, they were together. Josephine had had to fight men off from the time she was fourteen, for there was a sexuality about her that was a challenge. Men were always pawing and grabbing at her, trying to squeeze her breasts or shove their hands up her skirt, thinking that that was the way to excite her, not knowing how much it repelled her.

David Kenyon was different. He would occasionally put his arm around her or touch her casually, and Josephine's whole body would respond. She had never felt this way about anyone before. On the days when she did not see David, she could think of nothing else.

She faced the fact that she was in love with him. As the weeks went by, and they spent more and more time together, Josephine realized that the miracle had happened. David was in love with her.

He discussed his problems with her, and his difficulties with his family. "Mother wants me to take over the businesses," David told her, "but I'm not sure that's how I want to spend the rest of my life."

The Kenyon interests included, besides oil wells and refineries, one of the largest cattle ranches in the Southwest, a chain of hotels, some banks and a large insurance company.

"Can't you just tell her no, David?"

David sighed. "You don't know my mother."

Josephine had met David's mother. She was a tiny woman (it seemed impossible that David had come out of that stick figure) who had borne three children. She had been very ill during and after each pregnancy and had had a heart attack following the third delivery. Over the years she repeatedly described her suffering to her children, who grew up with the belief that their mother had deliberately risked death in order to give each of them life. It gave her a powerful hold on her family, which she wielded unsparingly.

"I want to live my own life," David told Josephine, "but I can't do anything to hurt Mother. The truth is - Doc Young doesn't think she's going to be with us much longer."

One evening, Josephine told David about her dreams of going to Hollywood and becoming a star. He looked at her and said, quietly, "I won't let you go." She could feel her heart beating wildly. Each time they were together, the feeling of intimacy between them grew stronger. Josephine's background did not mean a damn to David. He did not have an ounce of snobbery in him. It made the incident at the drive-in one night that much more shocking.

It was closing time, and David was parked in his car, waiting for her. Josephine was in the small kitchen with Paco, hurriedly putting away the last of the trays.

"Heavy date, huh?" Paco said.

Josephine smiled. "How did you know?"

"Because you look like Chreestmas. Your pretty face ees all lit up. You tell heem for me he's one lucky hombre!"

Josephine smiled and said, "I will." On an impulse, she leaned over and gave Paco a kiss on the cheek. An instant later, she heard the roar of a car engine and then the scream of rubber. She turned in time to see David's white convertible smash the fender of another car and race away from the drive-in. She stood there, unbelievingly, watching the tail lights disappear into the night.

At three o'clock in the morning, as Josephine lay tossing in bed, she heard a car pull up outside her bedroom. She hurried to the window and looked out. David was sitting behind the wheel. He was very drunk. Quickly, Josephine put on a robe over her nightgown and went outside.

"Get in," David commanded. Josephine opened the car door and slid in beside him. There was a long, heavy silence. When David finally spoke, his voice was thick, but it was more than the whiskey he had drunk. There was a rage in him, a savage fury that propelled the words out of him like small explosions. "I don't own you," David said. "You're free to do exactly as you please. But as long as you go out with me, I expect you not to kiss any goddamned Mexicans. Y'understand?"

She looked at him, helplessly, then said, "When I kissed Paco, it was because - he said something that made me happy. He's my friend."

David took a deep breath, trying to control the emotions that were churning inside him. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told to a living soul."

Josephine sat there waiting, wondering what was coming next.

"I have an older sister," David said. "Beth. I - I adore her."

Josephine had a vague recollection of Beth, a blond, fair-skinned beauty, whom Josephine used to see when she went over to play with Mary Lou. Josephine had been eight when Beth passed away. David must have been about fifteen. "I remember when Beth died," Josephine said.

David's next words were a shock. "Beth is alive."

She stared at him. "But, I - everyone thought - "

"She's in an insane asylum." He turned to face her, his voice dead. "She was raped by one of our Mexican gardeners. Beth's bedroom was across the hall from mine. I heard her screams and I raced into her room. He had ripped off her nightgown and he was on top of her and - " His voice broke with the memory. "I struggled with him until my mother ran in and called the police. They finally arrived and took the man to jail. He committed suicide in his cell that night. But Beth had lost her mind. She'll never leave that place. Never. I can't tell you how much I love her, Josie. I miss her so damned much. Ever since that night, I - I - I can't - stand - "

She placed a hand over his and said, "I'm so sorry, David. I understand. I'm glad you told me."

In some strange way, the incident served to bring them even closer together. They discussed things they had never talked about before. David smiled when Josephine told him about her mother's religious fanaticism. "I had an uncle like that once," he said. "He went off to some monastery in Tibet."

"I'm going to be twenty-four next month," David told Josephine one day. "It's an old family tradition that the Kenyon men marry by the time they're twenty-four," and her heart leaped within her.

The following evening, David had tickets for a play at the Globe Theatre. When he came to pick Josephine up, he said, "Let's forget the play. We're going to talk about our future."

The moment Josephine heard the words, she knew that everything she had prayed for was coming true. She could read it in David's eyes. They were filled with love and wanting.

She said, "Let's drive out to Dewey Lake."

She wanted it to be the most romantic proposal ever made, so that one day it would become a tale that she would tell her children, over and over. She wanted to remember every moment of this night.

Dewey Lake was a small body of water about forty miles outside of Odessa. The night was beautiful and star-spangled, with a soft, waxing gibbous moon. The stars danced on the water, and the air was filled with the mysterious sounds of a secret world, a microcosm of the universe, where millions of tiny unseen creatures made love and preyed and were preyed upon and died.

Josephine and David sat in the car, silent, listening to the sounds of the night. Josephine watched him, sitting behind the wheel of the car, his handsome face intense and serious. She had never loved him as much as she loved him at that moment. She wanted to do something wonderful for him, to give him something to let him know how much she cared for him. And suddenly she knew what she was going to do.

"Let's go for a swim, David," she said.

"We didn't bring bathing suits."

"It doesn't matter."

He turned to look at her and started to speak, but Josephine was out of the car, running down to the shore of the lake. As she started to undress she could hear him moving behind her. She plunged into the warm water. A moment later David was beside her.

"Josie..."

She turned toward him, then into him, her body hurting with wanting, hungry for him. They embraced in the water and she could feel the male hardness of him pressed against her, and he said, "We can't, Josie." His voice was choked with his desire for her. She reached down for him and said, "Yes. Oh, yes, David."

They were back on the shore and he was on top of her and inside her and one with her and they were both a part of the stars and the earth and the velvet night.

They lay together a long time, holding each other. It was not until much later, when David had dropped her off at home, that Josephine remembered that he had not proposed to her. But it no longer mattered. What they had shared together was more binding than any marriage ceremony. He would propose tomorrow.

Josephine slept until noon the next day. She woke up with a smile on her face. The smile was still there when her mother came into the bedroom carrying a lovely old wedding dress. "Go down to Brubaker's and get me twelve yards of tulle right away. Mrs. Topping just brought me her wedding dress. I have to make it over for Cissy by Saturday. She and David Kenyon are getting married."

David Kenyon had gone to see his mother as soon as he drove Josephine home. She was in bed, a tiny, frail woman who had once been very beautiful.

His mother opened her eyes when David walked into her dimly lit bedroom. She smiled when she saw who it was. "Hello, son. You're up late."

"I was out with Josephine, Mother."

She said nothing, just watching him with her intelligent gray eyes.

"I'm going to marry her," David said.

She shook her head slowly. "I can't let you make a mistake like that, David."

"You don't really know Josephine. She's - "

"I'm sure she's a lovely girl. But she's not suitable to be a Kenyon wife. Cissy Topping would make you happy. And if you married her, it would make me happy."

He took her frail hand in his and said, "I love you very much, Mother, but I'm capable of making my own decisions."

"Are you really?" she asked softly. "Do you always do the right thing?"

He stared at her and she said, "Can you always be trusted to act properly, David? Not to lose your head? Not to do terrible - "

He snatched his hand away.

"Do you always know what you're doing, son?" Her voice was even softer now.

"Mother, for God's sake!"

"You've done enough to this family already, David. Don't burden me any further. I don't think I could bear it."

His face was white. "You know I didn't - I couldn't help - "

"You're too old to send away again. You're a man now. I want you to act like one."

His voice was anguished. "I - I love her - "

She was seized with a spasm, and David summoned the doctor. Later, he and the doctor had a talk.

"I'm afraid your mother hasn't much longer, David."

And so the decision was made for him.

He went to see Cissy Topping.

"I'm in love with someone else," David said. "My mother always thought that you and I - "

"So did I, darling."

"I know it's a terrible thing to ask, but - would you be willing to marry me until - until my mother dies, and then give me a divorce?"

Cissy looked at him and said softly, "If that's what you want, David."

He felt as though an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, Cissy, I can't tell you how much - "

She smiled and said, "What are old friends for?"

The moment David left, Cissy Topping telephoned David's mother. All she said was, "It's all arranged."

The one thing David Kenyon had not anticipated was that Josephine would hear about the forthcoming marriage before he could explain everything to her. When David arrived at Josephine's home, he was met at the door by Mrs. Czinski.

"I'd like to see Josephine," he said.

She glared at him with eyes filled with malicious triumph. "The Lord Jesus shall overcome and smite down His enemies, and the wicked shall be damned forever."

David said patiently, "I want to talk to Josephine."

"She's gone," Mrs. Czinski said. "She's gone away!"