Swartz, Shirley

English

Digital Commons @ Butler University

18 MANUSCRIPTS.11M·ISS Marks Is Deed"Shirley SwartzPATTY STARED at the evenin.g paper again. There it was,. just as itwas five minutes ago. It was true then. The accident thatLarry had seen was Miss Marks'. The paper did not say all thethings that Larry had seen, just, "Miss Lucinda Marks, 25, popularteacher at Miss Nobbs' School for Girls, died today in a traffic ac-cident on U. S. 40. There are no survivors."Patty quickly went to the telephone, tears shining in her eyes."Hello, Buns . . ."I have something to tell you, Buns."Oh, you read it in the paper. Honestly, Buns, it was awful.I wanted to be the first to tell you. Larry saw it on his way home.I-Ie s~id they were just taking her away in the ambulance and the carwas Just a shambles."I can see her right now, just like she was at the class picnicyesterday. It's funny, but you know how she always gave the 'honk'?Remember-yesterday she forgot to honk when she left, just as ifshe knew! Oh, Buns, it's simply awful!"It doesn't seem possible that she's . . . I know what friendsyou two were. Everybody always said how great it was, since you'dnever liked school. Jenny Lou said it was because you were 'twins,'but I told her, and she needs to be told, well. . . . I told her thatyou liked Miss Marks because she was the only person who had everbeen interesting enough herself to make school interesting. And ...."Y ou know, it was funny how much you two looked alike, evenacted alike. That was the first thing everyone said when she startedin at Nobbs' this year. You two could have been sisters ...."Vife all will miss her like crazy. She's the nicest person we'veever hac! on the faculty. Listen, Buns, she didn't suffer. The carMANUSCRIPTS 19rolled anel threw her out. Crushed her skull before she could realizewhat had happened. Her arms and one leg were torn off after"Buns . . . Buns . . . She hung up."* * *Christena Bundy put the telephone receiver slowly into its cradle,walked into the bathroom, and became very ill. She clung weakly tothe wash basin, her mouth burning and acrid. Looking into themirror, she remembered the first day of the school year at MissNobbs' School for Girls. She had walked into her Analytic Geometryclass, looked at the new math teacher, and felt as if she were lookinginto a mirror. Lucy Marks' warm, brown eyes showed recognition;both of them had stared at each other. That was the start of it all.Christena went back into her room and, sitting down on the bed,took a hidden package of cigarettes from a drawer, and lighted one ofthe white cylinders. This was the last pack of cigarettes that Lucyhad ever given her. She had never smoked before knowing Lucy,and she really did not like it much. There were, aher all, so manythings that Lucy had taught her that she wished she had never learned.The smoke from the cigarette curled gently above Christena'shead, making airy loops and irregular circles. Suddenly Lucy Marks'face appeared in the smoky haze-smiling, taunting, angry, crying,pleading. All the poses she had ever used. Christena was glad thatLucy had not persuaded her to go driving with her today. She wouldhave been lying, just like Lucy, with her head smashed and arms andlegs lying all over the highway, the car they always usecl crumpledin a tinny heap.She knew her mother had wondered. She had even heard hertalking to her father. "It isn't normal, I tell you, Harold. It justisn't natural. Something is going on.""You old fool," she had said silently to her mother, many times."J ust like a parrot, 'Where've you been. Where've you been.Where've you been.' "She could see her mother did not believe her when she made upexcuses. "Lie" was stamped across her mother's eyes. Christenaknew her mother hated her. She hated her mother, too. She nevertook her any place with her. At least, Lucy had taken her places.They had gone all the places that her mother would never take her.T.ucy had love. . . .The face in the smoke smiled, she seemed to be saying, "Noonewill ever know. Just you and 1." Christena had heard that so manytimes. Now no one would know. Not anyone, Lucy could never tell.Christena smiled as she ground the cigarette out in the ash tray."I don't give a damn," she said to herself. That was what Lucy hadalways said was the best policy. The smoke and its picture dissolvedand Christena crushed the cigarette package and threw it into thewaste basket.20 MANUSCRIPTS//Jenny Lou Kincaid walked into the library and casually announcedto her mother, "Miss Marks got killed."Her mother looked up from the book she was reading and said,"Really? How?""Car accident. Tried to pass another car on the wrong side andhit a concrete something-or-other at the side of the road. Arms andlegs cut off. Head smacked in.""Dear! Who was she now?""Oh . . . my math teacher.""Weren't you having some trouble or other in math?"Jenny Lou hesitated, and then nodded her head. She then walkedslowly from the room, humming softly. Her mother looked afterher, wondering vaguely what was wrong with her daughter.Jenny Lou went into the kitchen and fixed herself a 'Coke.' Shethought momentarily that she should call someone and find out moreabout Miss Marks, but instead, she took her drink and went out ontothe front porch. It was cool in the shade of the porch awning, andJenny Lou sipped the Coke and thought how glad she was thatgraduation was the clay after tomorrow.Now she would graduate. It was nice to be sure of things. To-morrow would have been a bad day, but everything would be finenow. It had been perfectly awful when Miss Marks had found outabout the final. Jenny Lou reminded herself that it was her ownfault for putting the crib sheet in the waste basket in Miss Marks'r00111. Still, if Miss Marks hadn't been so snoopy, she wouldn't havefound it and then there wouldn't have been all the trouble.Miss Marks should have known that she would not pass thatAnalyt course without a crib. Jenny Lou almost thought that Miss'Marks did not want her to get out of high school. Jenny Lou visual-ized herself sitting in Miss Marks' class, still trying to pass, whenshe had grey hair. No, that crib was the only way. Today was theclay that Miss Marks was going- to speak to Miss Nobbs. She wasprobably on her way into town to tell Miss Nobbs when.Jenny Lou smiled to herself and finished her Coke.* * *Mrs. Edward Sylvester read the death notice with a great dealof shock and more relief. Sistie would not have that woman anymore now and Edward . . .Had Edward? No, it was unthinkable! She'd never know now.Or was this the way to know definitely. Men are so foolish, Mrs.Sylvester reasoned. But Edward had always been so stable . . . un-til she had come to Miss Nobbs'.Edie Sylvester rearranged the folds of her dressing gown, poppedanother chocolate into her mouth, and refused to think about it anyMANUSCRIPTS 21more. A cold, a terrible summer cold, was enough to worry thelife out of a person for one day.But the newspaper lay there in her lap and the name of LucindaMarks was printed on it, black and un forgettable. Edie Sylvestersighed shudderingly and resigned herself to thinking about that"awful w0111an."She hated it so when everyone on the Mother's Council called hera "wonderful girl," and "such a good teacher." "Good teacher," yes,probably taught Edward a thing or two.It was strange. She had always wanted Edward to get on theBoard of Trustees at Nobbs', and then he had been elected the yearthat She came to Nobbs'. Of course, it tnas perfectly impossible tothink that Edward would ever stoop to. . well, "carrying on,"with some dried-up old school teacher.Still, it was strange that he seemed so co-operative now, sowilling to take Sistie to school in the morning, getting up at thatungodly hour, and to pick her up in the evenings. He'd been gonein the evenings too much, too. "Trouble with the tax reports."What a foolish excuse. Men were so stupid, basically.Then that one awful parent-teacher meeting. Oh God, howeveryone persecuted her. The way that they looked at each other, itseemed, well . . . no one's imagination was that good. Even her's.But when she had called Edward "Ed." Then the blushes, andstammerings, and apologies and excuses. No wonder she had hadone of her migraines. God, God, the trials of being a good, faithfulwife. All twenty years of marriage, and then this was her thanksfor all she had done for Edward.As long as they had been married, she had never called EdwardSylvester-"Ed." And then to have that nervy little ... No, itwas simply unthinkable.Edward was the only thing that had ever belonged to her. Herclothes, her home, her furnishings, even her coi fIure she had neverbeen able to call her own. First it was her parents, they had ownedeverything, then Edward. But she owned Edward. Even Sistie hadalways called herself "Daddy's little gir1.·' Edward was hers, though.All hers ... until this year, and then She had to come along and. . .N ow Edward was hers again. There was no Lucinda Marks anymore.Mrs. Edward Sylvester smiled as she heard her husband's voicein the lower hall. She arose from her bed of pain, went to the door,and called sweetly clown to him, "Edward, darling, come here. Ihave something to show you."* * *Miss Emily Wilkes read the small announcement in the deathnotices in the evening paper. She brushed a wisp of white hair backinto place and picked up the tatting on which she had been working22 MANUSCRIPTSbefore the paper had been delivered. The thread pulled tighter andtighter, and finally Miss Emily returned the work to her lap and puta hand in front of her eyes.Miss Emily could not hold a grudge, no matter what had beendone to her, and she felt pity for the young teacher. She had be~nyoung, as Miss Emily had been reminded many times.. A very bril-liant young woman. Lovely, too. Miss Emily shook her head slow.lyas she remembered all the things that Miss Nobbs told her that MISSMarks had said.All that had happened seemed to be so long ago. Miss Emilythought that this, her first year in retirement, had been a long one.All the angry words of last fall returned to Miss Emily's ears andmade her head ache."She's too old," ". . . give the children a chance . . ." "out-lived her usefulness." "Outmoded methods," "Children haven'tlearned a thing for years."That was not true. She had always given all the girls as muchknowledge of mathematics as any text that had ever been printed.They liked her, and she liked them. She had never flunked anyone,even though she knew some of them would never have passed if shehad not looked through the wrong side of her glasses.Sixty-seven wasn't so old. Miss Emily did not feel old. Maybewith the young teacher gone. . . .Miss Emily smiled and picked up her tatting again. She mustremember to call Miss Nobbs the first thing in the morning.* * *The last rays of the early summer's sun were fading into theshadows on the stack of letters on Miss D. Helen Nobbs' desk. MissNobbs locked the door of her study and turned on her desk lamp.She did not feel as if she were really prying, she felt it her duty toinspect the late Miss Marks' letters and to discover if there wasanyone to whom she could send condolences.The short notice in the paper had read "no survivors," but surelythere must be someone. Miss Marks had been a very solitary personthough, Miss Nobbs recalled. None of the faculty had been close toher. In fact, the students had been her most constant companions.The little Bundy girl especially had worshipped Miss Marks.Miss Nobbs sighed and untied the tidy bundle of letters that shehad found in Miss Marks' bureau. The first one was addressed to"Lucy Marks" at the school. Miss Nobbs had not seen Miss Markstake much mail fr0111her private box, but then, Miss Marks did notconfide in any of the staff.The first letter was fr0111a young man named "Jack" and begged"Lucy darling," to marry him. It was dated at the opening of theschool term. Miss Nobbs felt very guilty, but she reminded herselfMANUSCRIPTS 23that Miss Marks would probably appreciate someone's writing to herdear ones.The second was from "Jack" also. It was dated two weeks later,and contained many references to "Buns," who Miss Nobbs deducedmust be Christen a Bundy. Again the young man asked "Lucy" tomarry him. Miss Nobbs smiled when the young man made allusionto "frustrated school teachers in a damned nunnery for females."Obviously Miss Marks had refused him. Near the end of the letterthere was a passage alluding to her as "Delilah," and Miss Nobbsblushed angrily, for she had always guarded the inappropriate namefrom being known, even to her staff.The third letter was short. It was from the same man again, anddated only several days after the second letter. All that letter saidwas that J ack was leaving for South America and would never seeMiss Marks again. There was one sentence that puzzled Miss Nobbsconsiderably. It read, "You'd better leave, Lucy, before someonefinds you out for the phony you are, as I have."The sentence made no sense to Miss Nobbs at all. She could notimagine what the young man meant. Miss Marks had been such afine young person. It was strange too that he should change hismind that way when he had wanted to marry her so.Miss Nobbs cleaned her glasses and picked up the fourth letterin the stack. This could not have been Miss Marks'. It was ad-dressed to a "Miss Lucille Marcus." But the address was the school's.The greeting read "My dearest daughter." Miss Nobbs stopped. Thepaper had said that there were no survivors and when Miss Markshad applied for the position, her references had said "Parents de-ceased." Miss Nobbs felt one of her headaches coming on.The letter read:"My dearest daughter,"I know you have asked us not to write to you at your school, but.now I have to. Your papa is very ill, like the last time. DoctorRosenbloom says he won't live the week. He calls for you all the timein his delirium."I could not tell him that you said for us never to write to youagain. He don't understand that you are a young lady now. It is agood feeling to me that you can get a job in a fancy big school withall those high-class people."In your letter you said you would never come home again, butplease, Lulu. Papa is dying, and the only thing in the world that hewants is to see you again. Get leave of absence. Please come homeand make Papa happy, for you ... "Miss Marks had never asked for leave of absence. She had evenstayed at the school during Christmas vacation. Miss Nobbs defi-nitely had one of her headaches. She turned out the lights, leavingthe letters on the desk, and went up to her room to prepare a memorialservice for Miss Lucinda Marks . . . or was it Miss Lucille Marcus.

Miss Marks Is Dead

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Miss Marks Is Dead

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