The Sins of the Fathers

I ordered another round of drinks, and she started to loosen up. The picture began to fill in and take form. There were telephone calls which she answered when Wendy was out of the apartment, cryptic messages she had to relay. There was the drunk who showed up one night when Wendy wasn't home who told Marcia that she would do just fine and made a clumsy pass at her. She had managed to get rid of him, but still didn't realize that Wendy's male friends constituted a source of income to her.

"I thought she was a tramp," she said. "I'm not a moralist, Mr. Scudder.

During that time I was probably going overboard in the opposite direction. Not in terms of how I behaved, but how I felt about things. All those uptight virgins at Evangeline House, and the result was that I had sort of mixed feelings about Wendy."

"How?"

"I thought what she was doing was probably a bad idea. That it would be bad for her emotionally. You know, ego damage, that kind of thing. Because down underneath she was always so innocent."

"Innocent?"

She gnawed a fingernail. "I don't know how to explain this. There was this little girl quality to her. I had the feeling that whatever kind of sex life she led she would still be a little girl underneath it all."

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Anyway, I thought her behavior was basically self-destructive. I thought she was going to get hurt."

"You don't mean physically injured."

"No, I mean emotionally. And at the same time I have to say I envied her."

"Because she was free?"

"Yes. She didn't seem to have any hang-ups. She was completely free of guilt as far as I could see. She did whatever she wanted to do. I envied that because I believed in that kind of freedom, or thought I did, and yet my own life didn't reflect it." She grinned suddenly. "I also envied her life because it was so much more exciting than mine. I had some dates but nothing very interesting, and the boys I went out with were around my own age and didn't have much money.

Wendy was going out for dinners at places like Barbetta's and the Forum, and I was seeing the inside of a lot of Orange Julius's. So I couldn't help envying her a little."

She excused herself and went to the ladies room. While she was gone I asked the waitress if there was any fresh coffee. She said there was, and I asked her to bring a couple of cups. I sat there waiting for Marcia Thal and wondering why Wendy had wanted a roommate in the first place, especially one who was ignorant of how she earned her keep. The hundred dollars a month seemed insufficient motive, and the inconvenience of functioning as a prostitute under the conditions Marcia had described would have greatly outweighed the small source of income Marcia represented.

She returned to the table just as the waitress was bringing the coffee.

"Thanks," she said. "I was just starting to feel those drinks. I can use this."

"So can I. I've got a long drive back."

She took a cigarette. I picked up a pack of matches and lit it for her. I asked how she had found out that Wendy was taking money for her favors.

"She told me."

"Why?"

"Hell," she said. She blew out smoke in a long, thin column. "She just told me, okay? Let's leave it at that."

"It's a lot easier if you just tell me everything, Marcia."

"What makes you think there's anything more to tell?"

"What did she do, pass on one of her dates to you?"

Her eyes flared. She closed them briefly, drew on her cigarette. "It was almost like that," she said. "Not quite, but that's pretty close. She told me a friend of hers had a business associate in from out of town and asked if I'd like to date the guy, to double with her and her friend. I said I didn't think so, and she talked about how we would see a good show and have a good dinner and everything. And then she said, `Be sensible, Marcia. You'll have a good time, and you'll make a few dollars out of it.' "

"How did you react?"