Spring Fire (20 page)

* * *

Mitch finished hanging up the last dress and turned to look at the room in Main Dorm where she had moved. The boxes were empty, and the suitcase had been shoved under the bed by the wall. Robin sat limp in the chair near the desk, her short legs relaxed in front of her, her arms hanging down at the side. "Finally!" she sighed. "I thought we'd never finish."

"You were wonderful to help, Robin." "I'd help anyone out of that kind of hell. You should have done it months ago."

"I guess so," Mitch agreed. She sat on the bed and flicked the radio on, waiting for it to warm up.

"You know," Robin said, "Monday night after you didn't show up here, I thought you'd weakened and changed your mind."

Mitch got a station that was playing waltz music. She fixed the tone so it was not too loud, and didn't answer Robin. The Dean had warned her that it would be hard. People would want to know why she had moved out of the sorority.

"Anything new on Leda?"

The question jarred Mitch. She had heard from Dr. Peters that Leda had called for her at the wreck, that she had said all those things about her, crying out her love before she came to in the hospital. Half of Mitch remembered Leda with the raven-colored hair and the keen, delicate hands, the jade eyes and the soft words, but even in that half there was a tinge of bitter irony in Mitch's memory, flowing into the other half of the remembered Leda. The half that had betrayed her.

"I know you must be worried," Robin continued. "I never trusted her, myself. There was something about her. But I know you like her."

"You have to know her," Mitch said, hoping the dull edge on her words was not obvious to Robin.

Robin yawned and stretched. "Yeah," she said. "You can never tell. I'm going to run along. Got a mad date with Tom Edwards."

After she left, Mitch sat in the chair, hearing the music and thinking of Leda lying in the hospital, sick and alone. She did not want to hate Leda for all that she had done. Dr. Peters had helped her to understand Leda, but there was still the pain left from the way it had all blown lip and left her burned. And Leda had struck the match to the situation.

"She was sick when she loved you," Dr. Peters had said, "and you caught some of that sickness. You're going to be all right. Leda may never be all right again."

Mitch thought of it again
—what would have happened if everything had gone the way Leda had planned it. She tried to picture her father's face, contorted with anger and resentment and disgust, the way it would have been if she had been sent home from Cranston.

But Leda was sick.

Mitch turned the radio off and yelled, "O.K." into the buzzer on her wall. She wondered who would be buzzing her number. Robin was gone with Tom Edwards, and she didn't know anyone else yet.

She picked up the comb again and fixed her hair before the mirror. It was getting longer, and she thought of having a permanent so the curl would stay in and not come down after swimming class. She turned the light off and shut the door. A girl passed her in the hall on her way to the steps, and Mitch returned her smile. The dorm was friendlier, she decided, and the smile made her feel better as she went down the stairs into the lobby to answer the buzzer.

"Well!" Lucifer grinned. "You took your sweet time getting down here."

He was wearing a pair of old olive-green pants and a spotted brown sweater. There was a cap on his head, with faded Greek letters.

"Pardon my attire," he said. "I just finished scrimmage. Want to have a Coke with a famous Cranston peasant?"

Mitch laughed and ran back up the stairs to get her coat. Lucifer was fun.

They sat together in a small booth at the Student Union. Lucifer handed her a nickel. "Go ahead," he said, "play anything you like. I'm extravagant, I know. But go ahead."

She read the list of selections on the machine at the side of the booth and pushed the button for number nine after she slid the nickel in the slot. Bing Crosby's voice floated out over the room. "Little early for 'White Christmas'," Lucifer said. "Or is it?"

"Six weeks early," Mitch said. "I love Christmas, though."

"You'll have a miserable Christmas." Lucifer frowned. "You'll miss me till you're almost crazy."

The afternoon went easily. Mitch forgot a lot with Lucifer chatting away in her ear, running back and forth with Cokes, making her laugh with his idiotic talk. It wasn't until they were leaving that she saw Marybell Van Casey sitting in the opposite booth. A flash of heat shot through Mitch when their eyes met, and she stood in the aisle beside Lucifer, uncertain whether to speak or move on. Casey smiled and her face broke in sudden friendliness. "Hi," she said. "How are you, Mitch?"

There were others at the table, but Mitch felt relieved when she saw that they were not Tri Eps. She said, "I'm fine."

"We can't talk," Lucifer broke in. "We have to catch a train: We're eloping."

Casey laughed, and Mitch could feel the tension leave when Casey called out, "Get back in time for swim meet Monday. I think you'll make the team, Mitch."

"Teams!" Lucifer said as he took her arm and led her out of the room "Teams at a time like this!"

When he left her at the entrance to Main Dorm, he asked her to go out with him on Saturday. "We'll go to a movie," he said. "After all, it's our honeymoon. We might as well splurge."

Mitch agreed. She pushed the door open and walked through the lobby of the dorm toward the stairs. The small girl at the reception desk called out her name. Mitch stopped and turned around. "Dean Paterson said to call her at the office," the girl told her. "You can use the phone on this floor if you want. To your left."

"I'll drive you over after dinner," Dean Paterson told Mitch over the phone. "Now, keep your chin up and don't worry about it. I'll pick you up at seven."

Mitch hung up. She stayed there in the booth and looked dumbly at the four walls, marked with penciled phone numbers, red lipstick prints where someone had kissed one of the walls, pictures of rabbits and girls' heads, the sign that said, "Others are waiting," and the one that said, "Well! Don't take all day!" She pulled the door back and walked slowly toward the stairs. A girl ran out of her room and brushed up against Mitch, saying, "I'm sorry," and hurrying on, with her coat flying.

What kind of reunion would it be there in the hospital, Mitch wondered? What would they say to each other?

* * *

The headlights blinded Mitch as she walked toward the car. Dr. Peters got out and let her move in so that she was sitting between them

"It won't take long," Dean Paterson said, "but it's very important"

"How
—is Leda?" Even the name was hard to say. Again a favorite slogan of her father's ran through her mind: "Every good pencil has an eraser." She wanted desperately to erase Leda from her mind.

"She's still in serious condition," Dr. Peters answered, "but we're hopeful. She asked to see you. Two of her sorority sisters were over this morning. I asked them to do something for me and they did it very well. Now I'm going to ask you, Susan."

"What?"

Dr. Peters explained that Leda still thought Mitch was going to be expelled.

"She feels guilty," he said, "and it's preventing her from wanting to get better. And yet we can't let her know that you're not being expelled, because then she'd realize that we know all about her, and she couldn't take that. You've got to try to make her feel as though everything's all right. Make her think you're happy and that you've forgiven her. You'll be alone with her, Susan, but we'll be close by. If she gets emotional, try to be calm yourself. Say things that will ease her mind about you. All right?"

Dean Paterson stopped for the light and reached over to touch Mitch's hand. "It won't be easy for you, Susan," she said, "but try very hard, dear. Don't tell her you're at the dorm. Tell her you're staying with me until you go home."

Tell her, don't tell her, say, don't say, all jumbled up and crazy in her mind. Mitch watched the lights from other cars and tried to remember what Leda's face was like. She couldn't remember. And her voice. She couldn't recall what Leda's voice was like. High or low? Dr. Peters and Dean Paterson kept talking, and Mitch could only think that she did not even know Leda, or them, or why she was there. The car swung into the spacious parking lot behind the hospital, and the night air felt cold on Mitch's face as she stepped out of the car and followed them into the building.

Some students sat in the chairs at the right of the entrance, and a telephone operator pulled out colored cords from her board and kept repeating, "University Hospital, one moment" in a singsong tone. There was a strange silence in the halls, and the elevator seemed crowded, though there were just the three of them

The door moved back automatically, and they walked along until they came to the door with the screen in front of it. Mitch went in and they waited outside. Dr. Peters pushed the screen back when the nurse came out, and Mitch could hear the door close behind her. Slowly she walked toward the bed. When she saw Leda's face in the dim light, she knew why she was there.

She said, "Leda?"

Leda opened her eyes. She looked at Mitch without smiling. She didn't say anything, and Mitch moved closer.

"Hello, Leda," Mitch said.

Almost instantly Leda seemed to regain her energy. She smiled and tried to move up farther on the big pillow behind her head. "Hi, kid," she said.

"How do you feel?"

"God, I feel lousy."

"I'm sorry, Leda. Terribly sorry."

She was sorry, too. She knew it when she said it and looked right at the girl. She was plain sorry.

"You shouldn't be sorry for me. I guess I ought to be sorry myself, Mitch."

"No," Mitch said. "Everything turned out O.K. for me. You did your best, Leda."

"You think so? You really believe that?"

"Well, all I know is, I think it's best the way you did it."

"You
would,"
Leda laughed. "You
would,
Mitch. You know something?"

"What, Leda?" Mitch had never seen a face like that. It looked old and lined with fear and worry. But it was Leda's face, Mitch realized, and there was something there in the look that was not too strange. Familiar.

"If I ever do anything good, I don't know when I'm doing it. You know what I mean? I just do it, and then sometimes it turns out good. Do you know?"

"Yes, I know, Leda."

"If it turned out good for you, kid, I'm glad."

"It did, Leda. It turned out good."

"I was worried," Leda said, reaching over for her cigarettes. "Hand me one, will you, kid? Dr. Peters said I could smoke if I wanted today, but I didn't feel like it till now."

Mitch gave her the cigarette and lit it for her with the small, blue-covered matchbox that said, "Clean-Rite Cleaners" on the top, and "You get it dirty
—we'll get it clean."

"I was worried," Leda continued. "I thought you'd be sore at me. I wouldn't have blamed you, either. I'm sorry about the letter. Nessy found it, you know. There wasn't much I could do."

"I know," Mitch said. "Let's not talk about it, Leda. I'm glad you feel
—"

"Wait a minute. Why
not
talk about it? Why not? You don't believe that Nessy found that letter, do you, Mitch? Come on, Mitch. Even
you
don't believe that!"

"Leda, please. Let's forget it."

"Forget it! My God, forget it! You know what it's like to lie here in this goddamn bed and think about everything? Some circus, this is! Some big circus!"

She laughed and she stopped laughing abruptly. For a moment the look of peace and ease came back to her face and she smiled. "I do feel better," she said. "Marsha and Kitten were here this morning. I haven't seen Jake yet."

"Maybe you'll see him tomorrow," Mitch said.

"Hell, who am I kidding? I'm not kidding you, am I, Mitch? I don't care if I ever see him again." Leda blew the smoke out and tried to sit up farther. Mitch moved over to help her with the pillow. Leda's eyes met Mitch's then under the light. They seemed to lose some of their green color, and there were lines around the sockets under them.

"I'm not kidding you, am I, Mitch?"

Leda caught Mitch's hand when she brought it back from the pillow. "You know I don't give a damn about Jake, don't you?"

Mitch felt the coldness of Leda's skin. The same skin that used to feel warm and send chills through her and excite her. A momentary physical memory came back, but the warmth was fleeting and then dead when she looked back at Leda's face. She tried to pull her hand away but Leda held it tightly.

"I told you the other night. I told you right that night, Mitch. Remember that. No matter what happens after I get out of here, don't forget I told you right. I probably won't see you again, anyway." Her voice seemed to break on the last sentence. She said, "Going home, Mitch? Back to Seedmore or Sneedmore or wherever it is?"

"I suppose," Mitch said. She saw the tears in the corners of Leda's eyes.

"You know I don't want to be without you, don't you?" Her fingers fastened more strongly on Mitch's and Mitch could feel her crushing them. She could feel her own eyes fill. It wasn't because of Leda. It was
for
Leda that she wanted to cry. She wanted to cry a long time for Leda.

She said, "Yes, I know that, Leda. Don't think about it."

"It's hard not to think about it. God! God! God!" Leda let Mitch's hand go and moved her head back and forth on the pillow, clasping her own hands together and saying, "God, oh, God!" Then she did not move, but stared straight ahead and talked slowly. "You know something, Mitch? It's going to be all right. I've just got a feeling that it's going to be all right. I mean, maybe I didn't do too bad by you. Hell, there are plenty of colleges and sororities. You wouldn't have to go far away. I could still see you."

A tear came down Mitch's cheek. God help her, she thought. Oh, God help Leda. She needs help now.

Leda saw the tear. She smiled, and her voice rose. "You crazy kid! You're crying! You're crying!" Her own tears came forward. "You got me crying too," she said. "You crazy kid!"