CHAPTER TWELVE

lowered himself on me.

Listening to his heavy breathing, I lay there, watching sunlight pour through the opened window.

I was glad I could give my husband pleasure.. I surrendered my body, but my mind remained aloof. During intimacies with Jan I had always been thoroughly aroused and beautifully satisfied. And she knew how to stay with me after climax, and soothe me down from the terrific sexual peak.

After climax, Granger, not being the artist that Jan was, would merely hold me in his arms, and expect us both to go to sleep. I used to feel sorry for women who had never known that anti-climatic soothing action, such as Jan's strong but gentle fingers had brought to me at those times when we had been together sexually. And I, of course, assumed it is like that with most husbands.

The irony of my life was that night after night I lay in bed beside a man the society and convention of our time called my husband. Yet all the while, my heart was calling out to the girl I loved, and I yearned for the passion that society and convention label "taboo".

Sometimes, while Granger slept peacefully beside me, I tossed restlessly and wondered how many women like me there are in this world. And how many of them are living the life for which they are suited? “Oh, Jan!" my heart would cry out. "If only you hadn't gone away!" And then I'd feel my wedding ring, and try to make myself realize that today I was a married woman chained by duty. And Jan belonged to yesterday and love.

I really tried to look forward to a good life with Granger. But my heart continued to look backward to memories of love with Jan.

Beth looked like she was carrying around an inverted tub under her dress. She was so heavy she waddled when she walked. But she was radiantly happy. And skinny Hal was prancing about like a peacock on display. Mother beamed as if she had found uranium in her backyard.

The showers for Beth were over, including the one I gave for her at my home. Yes, under Granger's gentle guidance I went through with the thing I dreaded. It had passed merrily and without incident. Only I was aware of the expression in Mother's eyes, when she glanced from Beth to me. It was as if she was thinking, "Poor Melba. She's trying to be a wife. But my Beth is really being one."

Then, I attempted to believe that I was over-sensitive and too imaginative. Perhaps Mother wasn't thinking anything like that. I made up my mind to be more constructive in my own thinking. "Don't look for slights," I told myself. "And maybe you won't find any."

The advice was excellent. But, I learned that sometimes in life, slights and hurts come to us without our looking for them. And that when they come, they must be handled rightly, or they can cut deep and leave ghastly scars. I earnestly tried to handle and heal the cutting experience that soon came to me. I'll tell you about it.

I was sunning myself in the patio when Mother drove up to the house. She ran from the car to where I was sitting. I knew Mother would never break into a run unless a desperate situation merited it. So I leaped up.

Before I could even ask what was wrong, Mother told me. "Beth's having a terrible time. She's in the hospital. I'm going there now. Come with me. Your