Secrecy Read Online Free PDF Page A

There were goldfish in the pond, gliding and gleaming through light and shadow. The morning was still, without wind or motion. Only the goldfish moved.
    On such a morning a person ought to feel happy. It was all so beautiful. What, then, was wrong with her? She felt—she felt superfluous. It was as if she did not belong here, even with her mother who loved her and had been disappointed when she refused the silly blue dress. She tried to analyze herself. At school from time to time they had visitors, psychologists, who came to explain to the girls about sex and popularity problems and family relationships. You went away from these talks wondering about other people and about yourself. What did it mean to be happy? Nobody could possibly be happy all the time. You had to have some times when you felt miserable. But how often? How often was too often? Would she feelvery different if her parents didn’t fight so much? After a whole week’s vacation she was sitting here moping. That’s what Emmabrown would call it.
Stop moping
, she would say,
and help me peel these apples
. But the way she said it, you wouldn’t mind.
    Now through an open window came the sound of voices. On the far side of the lawn a fat man went jogging down the path. The world was awake. She stood up to go inside and begin the day. It was queer that she should be looking forward to tomorrow and the end of her vacation.
    “Mama,” she called, looking in at the open bedroom door.
    Then, hearing the rush of water in the bathtub, she went back through the living room to start breakfast—and came to a full stop. Judd’s sweater and gold chains were lying on the sofa. Puzzled, she stood there staring at them.
    But he was wearing them when he drove away last evening! And she recalled exactly how, going too fast, the car had swung around the circle. She recalled exactly the striped sweater and the blaring music.
    He had come back here, then, very late. Charlotte herself had stayed up very late watching television.
    “Aren’t you going to bed soon?” Elena had kept asking.
    She wanted to get me out of the way, Charlotte thought now, so he could return. He had stayed the night. And, in his hurry to get out before Charlotte should discover him, had forgotten the things tossed on the sofa. It was all quite clear.
    Feeling sick to her stomach, she sat down. She was still sitting there when Elena appeared in the doorway. Half-dressed, she had a pink dressing gown slung over her arm.
    “Hey,” she called, “you’re the early bird this morning—”
    Like arrows the two pairs of eyes shot to the little heap on the sofa, shot back to meet, and separated. Lightly, Elena dropped herself onto the sofa; lightly, she dropped the dressing gown on the little incriminating heap as if she had not even noticed it there.
    “So, another lovely day for the beach. What time is it?”
    “I don’t know,” Charlotte said.
    “It can’t be too late. Oh, well, no rush. Shall we have eggs this morning?”
    “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”
    This is absurd, Charlotte thought. Playacting! She knows I know, but she hasn’t figured out yet how to handle it. She must be stunned. She needs time to work out a strategy. It can’t be the nicest feeling to have your daughter find you out.
    Oh, Elena, why? she cried to herself in fierce and silent anger. And then perversely, along with the anger came pity, the pity one has for an animal caught in a trap.
    “I’ll get my clothes on,” Elena said, “and then we’ll eat. It’s been a long time since dinner.”
    She got up and, carelessly sweeping Judd’s things under a trail of pink silk, disappeared into the bedroom. So, without words, it had apparently been agreed that each of them would pretend that nothinghad been seen and nothing had happened. Everything must be normal.
    Crazy, crazy … And yet, would it be better to battle it out, mother with daughter? What would be the result? Tears, transparent lies, and shame.