May, 1958*Dillard Hall
William & Mary College*Diary of Margaret Elaine Talbot
I can't believe what happened last night. Ordinarily I'd keep it to myself, but I feel compelled to warn other girls.
Jack picked me up for the dance. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo and brought me a beautiful orchard corsage. I have to say I looked pretty sharp too in a swoony pink chiffon dress that Mums and I picked up at Thalheimers.
We danced and danced, what a beautiful night! But Jack kept bringing me cup after cup of Purple Passion. I usually don't drink so much, but heck, my Sophomore year is almost over and my recital went well, and I was in a festive mood.
Suddenly I began to feel sort of dizzy. I asked Jack to take me back to the dorm. Just as well because it was late. We do get to stay out till 12 on weekends now that I'm a soph, but it was getting towards the witching hour.
Jack tried to neck with me but I pushed him off.
"You know I'm not that kind of girl," I slurred.
"I know, sweetie, but you just don't know what you do to me. See?" He pushed my hand down there.
"AAARGGGH!" I opened his car door and heaved up about six gallons of Purple Passion. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember was feeling a hand pushing up my dress and the worst pain ever. I passed out again. The next thing I remember was somehow managing to sign the dorm registry and getting to bed. My rooms was already asleep.
What a wolf. I cannot believe it. My dress is torn and I bled all over my pretty slip.
I hope I'm ok.
one week later
My finals went ok and I'm packing up to head back home. Thank God I didn't get the curse during finals. I'm sure I'm ok. Unlike Sally and Susan, I'm all over the place. I'm just going to go home and enjoy the summer. I will never drink around boys again.
July, 1958*Lynchburg, Virginia
I'm in trouble.
I still haven't gotten the curse and I feel sick as hell all the time. Last night I tried to join Mums and Dad for dinner. The cook made salmon croquettes and just the smell wafting from the kitchen made me toss my cookies. My breasts are sore and the smell of cigarette smoke makes my stomach turn cartwheels.
OhGodOhGodOhGod this cannot be happening to me! I'm Margaret Elaine Talbot! I'm not some trampy little whore. I'm a good girl. What if I am that way? No decent man will ever look twice at me, much less marry me. I'll be the laughingstock of the school! All those girls I giggled and whispered about--now it'll be ME they talk about.
WHY DID I DRINK ALL THAT PURPLE PASSION?????????
one week later
I borrowed Mum's car to go to the doctor. I didn't know who to see. After all, I can scarcely skip into Dr. Thompson's office can I? I bet he won't give me a lollipop like he did after I got my polio shot. And hell, if he finds out I might as well go out and buy a billboard because it'll be the same effect. Yes, I can see it now: MARGARET ELAINE TALBOT IS A WHORE. SHE'S CARRYING A BASTARD CHILD.
Yes, that ought to go well with the "Welcome to Lynchburg" signs.
I drove 50 miles until I came to some stupid little neck of the woods. I went to Woolworth's and bought a wedding ring. I asked around until I found a doctor.
I registered as Mrs. Charles Parker. I made up the name. "We just moved here, Doctor," I said, smiling angelically. He bought it. I pulled my hair up in a twist to look as old as possible and borrowed one of Mum's old dresses.
"Congratulations Mrs. Parker!" he boomed.
"You're going to have a baby!"
Next installment coming soon: I contemplate buying a shotgun, not for a wedding, but to splatter Jack's brains all over the car upholstery where he stole my precious virtue. I contemplate ending it all with sleeping pills. I contemplate the fact that my life is ruined forever.
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7 comments:
Wow- you write about something that must be painful for you, and yet, with humor and compassion. This must be painful, but I hope its cathartic for you.
The generosity with which you are sharing your story is incredible. Thank you.
Lorrie, I'm not sure how you are feeling going through all this, but thank you for sharing.
My tendency as an a-parent is, and probably always will be, to defer to and defend those I consider to be the main players in the adoption drama - the first mothers and adoptees.
Thanks for reminding me that it's just not that simple. This has to be incredibly difficult to write. Thank you for doing it.
Thanks Lorrie -
I know many of us A-parents are conflicted about what to say about the birth parents. I now know not to tell my daughter that they loved her very much, especially since WE tell her that !
If only EVERY A-parent could read this, they might think deeper about explaining birth parents to their kids.
thanks for sharing!
amanda
Your post was so powerful. I appreciate your perspective. I read part of the interview on Johnny's blog and I also appreciate your thoughts re. telling your child his/her birthmom loved them.
Still in my heart I feel that our dd's birthmom may have been quite torn throughout her pregnancy knowing the external pressure (govt./family) she would face if the child she was carrying was a girl and not a boy. It was my 3rd miscarriage just two weeks ago (the 2nd since bringing dd home from China 3 years ago) that made me feel a bit more connected with dd's birthmom. Still I agree with you and I have never said her birthmom loved her. But as I said deep down I think her birthmom's heart may have felt torn apart when she could not keep this beautiful child. I have always thought after my first loss prior to dd I hope that these losses of mine will make me more sensitive to her loss of her birthparents which I view as the greater loss.
Thanks again for sharing your experience.
I've said it before but I'll say it again. Your mom REALLY looks like the queen of great britain.
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