Melodies XLIX; Jenny, Desired

Thank you for standing drinks. I only hope
the facts that I repeat are helpful to
the research you must do. They called that time
the Roaring Twenties, like some ancient age,
but it was not. Just forty years ago---
existence had its difficulties for
those of us caught in poverty's tight grip.
After my fifteenth birthday, my dear Mum
turned me out to make my own living in
a city that had not much use for me---
except to prostitute myself. Do not
look down your spectacled beaked nose at me:
I had no skills, no prospects to speak of,
and no connections to the moneyed class---
except what I could offer them in bed.
These kids today have it far easier
than ever we did, and their laziness
comes from too much cash and conveniences
so that they do not have to work at all.
So they have plenty of free time to wear
their jeans, and grow their hair long, and parade
around barefoot, and bellyache how hard
they have it in their rich, exclusive schools.
On my first night in town, Crowl picked me up,
and offered me a room and money, too.
He had, almost always, eight or nine girls,
all of us in that one old, drafty house.
At night, we gathered in the alley by
Low-Don's pawn shop. Low-Don was very kind
to us---he sometimes served us coffee when
the night air was too chilly. Shivering
can make a girl look unattractive to
prospective johns. Jenny was often ill---
she looked so frail, as if the slightest wind
might carry her away. We often thought
that would be best for her---such fantasies
whores have while trolling through the city's streets.
That second autumn that I was with Crowl,
Jenny developed some kind of bad cough.
A john complained and tossed her off, and ran.
So she did not turn in sufficient cash.
Crowl beat her that night, in the living room,
in front of all of us---I guess he meant
it for a lesson. I had never seen
him so putraged. He covered her small frame
with bruises until she passed out. Then he
left her there on the carpet and told us
not to attend her, help her, or console
her even for a moment. In my bed
I heard her, still downstairs---those plaintive sobs,
crying for someone, anyone, to come
and rescue her. "Poor, stupid girl," I thought.
I liked her very much but what could I
have done to help her? All of us had learned
not to question, complain, or run afoul
of him---such was our hard pimp, Mr. Crowl.

Next morning, while most of us were asleep,
Low Don came to the house. I was awake,
and just a little nosy, and I could
hear most of what he had to say to Crowl
(the walls and floors were thin in that old house,
and sounds could carry almost everywhere).
"Where is Jenny," Low-Don asked Crowl, who said
that she was indisposed. "Of course she is,"
Low-Don replied, "you beat her half to death."
Crowl said, "The girls must learn they cannot cheat
"me of my money. They are my employees.
"They do not work for themselves, but for me."
Then Low-Don said, "I have come here today
"to make a proposition on behalf
"of someone else, someone who now prefers
"not to be named. Young Jenny is desired . . .
At that, Crowl interrupted with a loud
laugh. "Our Jenny, desired?" he mocked. At that,
and moving with a dancer's grace and speed,
Low-Don punched him hard in his fattened gut,
and knocked the wind out of him. Crowl doubled
over, and gasped, struggling to get his breath.
After a bit, Lo-Don continued, "I
"have here a sum of cash sufficient to
"pay off what you think Jenny owes to you,
"with two more nights off work thrown in. You will
"allow her to rest for two days and nights,
"and for the third day. You will fetch her food,
"and any medicine she might require.
"On the third night, a chauffered car will come
"to call for her, and bring her back sometime
"the next morning. The chauffer will pay you
"more than all of your girls make in a week.
"But three conditions are imposed upon
"you---whether you agree to them or not
"makes no difference to me: you will comply.
"First, you will not attempt to follow her.
"Second, you will not ask her for details.
"Third, you will never---ever---hurt Jenny
"again; you will not even raise your voice,
"much less your fist, to her. To disregard
"this warning, even for a moment, will
"make your life worth less than a dead cat's skin."
I pondered all this that whole day: who was
this customer---apparently wealthy---
for whom Low-Don spoke, and in such stern tones.
But Crowl must have accepted the whole deal.
Jenny did not go out with us that night,
and not the next either. On the third night,
she dressed in her best evening gown, stockings,
and heels (in those, she was uncomfortable).
The long, expensive car arrived just as
we started out. The chauffer passed a fat
white envelope to Crowl as Jenny climbed
in. As they drove away, I hoped she had
not been put in danger by Crowl's fierce greed.
My mind was not much in my work that night,
but all of my johns seemed well satisfied.

The car brought her back that next day, a bit
before noon. As she stepped out, she appeared
to be exhausted, but delightedly
so. Standing at the curb, her stockinged feet
unshod, she tossed her shoes into the street;
then turned and stumbled clumsily up to
the front door, giggling all the way. She seemed
too tired to be elated and yet too
elated to be tired. Crowl simply stared---
silent as for the first time in his life.
She took the staircase one step at a time,
almost pulling herself up with her arms.
Once she had gone into her bedroom, I
sneaked in, because, as I have said, I was
nosy, and those conditions that Low-Don
had spoken were imposed only on Crowl,
and not to me. "Jenny, where did you go?
"What was it like? Did he have you all night?"
I asked her gently. "Oh, Janice," she said---
her smile almost . . . I think the right word is
"ethereal," although I am not sure
of all its meanings. "I have been loved like,"
she went, "no man or woman has loved me
"before. I was brought to the highest peak---
"of pleasure, not just once---repeatedly.
"And nothing asked of me except to take
"the pleasure offered. I think I was turned
"inside out, upside down, and maybe thrust
"up to the moon and back, and never moved
"out of that bed, and its silk sheet. Yes silk---
"better than any stockings I have worn.
"And I am wanted back again tonight---
"but only if I am up to it: that
"is so sweet, so considerate. And now,
"i really need to sleep; not quite enough
"hours to rest fully, but too many hours
"until my lover takes me back for more."
With that, she fell asleep as I stood there.
I stepped out and went back to my own room---
my thoughts turning more than they ever had
before. I did not know that women could
be brought to that degree of passion and
delight. But even more disturbing was
the absence of her bruises---not a one
that I had seen before remained there now;
not on her face or arms. She had been healed.
And then I thought (and would have dashed right back
but I did not want to disturb her then):
she seemed to have more color, not so pale
as she had been, nor did I hear her cough.

That night, at dusk, before the car arrived,
Low-Don showed up, with Crowl's fat envelope,
and with a neatly wrapped box for Jenny.
He said that she could open it if she
desired, and in it was a bedroom gown
(translucent and flimsy) amd silk stockings,
a kind of sheer tan, except that the toes
and heels were opaque brown. "Wear these tonight,"
Low-Don said, smiling, "if you please, of course."
"Who would refuse that?" Jenny asked, and we
all laughed; well, all except Crowl, whose grimace
did not go well with that fat enevelope.
But off she went, and then the rest of us
went off to seek a paying rendezvous.
I must confess a little jealousy---
that Jenny, who, among us, was the least
experienced as well as youngest, had
found such a lucrative arrangement that
seemed to suggest a long relationship.
Next morning, Crowl accosted me, and asked
"Have you not asked her anything about
"this man, or where she goes, or what he asks
"of her? You are her best friend, or you claim
"to be. She should confide in you at least."
I told him she did not, and that she seemed
changed, suddenly, not quite the same now that . . .
well, that was a mean lie. She had been just
as kind to me as ever, just with less
time spent awake. But I resented her
good fortune and the little she had done
to earn it or deserve it nonetheless.
Then, squinting, scheming, Crowl said, "You should find
"some clue, some opportunity, for us
"to learn a bit more---maybe her new friend
"has other friends who might be just as pleased
"to meet you other girls." I told him I
would make an effort, but promised nothing.
And, as I said that, he clenched his right fist,
but shook his head and turned away from me.

Fourteen days later (I rememebr that
detail), Jenny returned. The foyer clock
began to strike twelve, and we walked upstairs
together. I asked her, "Is it still good?"
She blushed, and smiled, and nodded all at once.
"It is the rings of Saturn and the moons
"of Jupiter, and that is just the first
"part. I have seen the sun and twilight's stars,
"from up above them." I snorted. "Those words
"must be a poet's, or one of that sort
"who stays up all night with a telescope."
"Poet? Astronomer? Lover who makes
"me happier than I have ever been."
She said, a bit boldly, defensively.
A bit flustered, I tried to smoothe it with
some kind of compliment or flattery.
I said, "And you look healthier, also."
"Well," she said, "Love does wonders for a girl.
"I never would have dreamed of this---at least
"for someone like me. I thought that I would
"be dead by winter. But I have received
"so much love, so much care. I think I have
"even been worshipped---that is how it feels.
"And such deep conversations even when
"we are . . . well . . . intimate . . . as if our thoughts
"have been, or have become, connected now.
"And I am asked for nothing except to
"express what I like, or desire, or need.
"No whips or chains, not stuff with animals;
"nothing that would make me uncomfortable."
I mentioned that she seemed more talkative
today than usual. Then her smile fell.
She said, "I will be leaving here tonight,
"and will not come back this time. I cannot
"decline the offer of the life that my
"lover can give me. I will miss you all,
"and you especially, but I cannot
"say no to this. Sometimes love's ecstasies
"come at the cost of certain sacrifice."
We wept a little, and then I excused
myself so she could catch up on her sleep.

I told Crowl what she said. He did not take
it well. How dare she turn her back on us,
and him who had rescued her from the street
before some predator had snatched her up.
He said certain arrangements would be made
to follow her, and then confront her plan
head on; and, as her best friend, I must go
with him to talk, or beat, sense into her.
The car arrived a full two hours before
dusk, and Low-Don was in it. Jenny came
out of the house, clad in a sumptuous gown
that I had never seen on her before.
And underneath its floor-length hem, her feet
were sheathed in those tan stockings, and no shoes.
She noticed that I noticed and whispered
"If you can fit into my shoes, have them,
"have all of them. I will not need them now."
I nodded. She kissed my cheek and she said,
"Thank you for being my friend all these months."
Then she got in the car and it pulled off.
Right after that, another car (much less
conspicuous) pulled up, driven by one
of Crowl's enforcers. Crowl and I climbed in
and set off to pursue Jenny. The route
they took led out into the countryside.
We drove an hour or so, at a dscrete
distance from them. They turned into a dirt
lane that led through a woods and then up to
an ancient derelict barn. Lo-Don and
Jenny stepped out. Their car pulled off about
a hundred feet and turned around, and parked.
The chauffer stayed with it. We left our car
right at the woods' edge. "Stay here. Do not come
"in unless I holler out," Crowl told his man.

No one had farmed this land for many years.
A kind of glow could be seen through the barn's
warped boards. We pulled the creaking door open---
and found Jenny and Lo-Don standing there.
Behind them was . . . I do not know the word . . .
a mass?---a cloud---a gob?---of pulsing llight,
with all the rainbow's colors radiant,
and some colors that I had never seen
before. Or after. Lo-Don, courteous
as ever, said "Welcome. What took you so
"long? Did you have car trouble?" Crowl just stared.
Lo-Don went on: "We thought you might attempt
"to interfere. It does not matter now.
"You must have questions and objections, and
"perhaps, " he looked at me, "a plea to think
"this through." And Jenny smiled
and said, "Janice, I have." Lo-Don turned back
to Crowl and told him, "I cannot explain
"the origin of this, except here is
"a living being, from somewhere in space,
"possessing an immense intelligence,
"commanding an enormous power. Jenny
"cried out, that night you beat her, and was heard
"by this visitor to our small planet and
"the rest you know. I helped arrange contact,
"and have been well rewarded for it all."
Then Jenny spoke again. "I never knew
"what love is---to be wanted, for myself;
"to be surrounded with affection that
"cannot be told in words or language, and
"without least expectation of reward.
"My lover has experienced the stars,
"the constellations and the galaxies.
"Tonight, we shall be joined. I will not lose
"one bit of myself, my identity,
"my memories or my emotions, and
"my life will last longer than it would here.
"Mortal my lover is, but of a span
"our minds cannot grasp well. The two of us
"will see a multitude of stars grow dim
"and sputter out before we have grown old.
"Janice, you have been gracious. And, Low-Don
"you are my lover's best friend on the earth,
"and we are grateful for all you have done.
"And, you, Crowl, something should be said to you."
At that, the thing behind her turned to shades
of darkness, shadows, roiling turbulence,
contained within its shapeless contours; and
seeming to be directed toward Crowl's head.
Crowl fell on to his knees quite terrified.
Then he began to laugh, and then to scream;
loud shrieks of laughter followed, and one more
scream, followed by a noiseless, blinkless stare.

"Now I am ready," Jenny said, her gaze
turned toward the thing waiting behind her. "Now
"we shall be joined in full intimacy."
Clutching her gown up, just above her feet
sheathed in those tan, silk stockings, she stepped toward
the irridescence and then into it.
Sparks, sparkles, shimmers, lightenings, pulses and
swirls of all tints and colors now converged
around her such that she was bathed in light,
and seemed to be kind of sillhouetted,
glowing herself. The barn's rafters began
to groan. "I think we should step out," Low-Don
suggested. Both of us took slobbering
Crowl's arms and lifted him to his feet and,
with awkward effort, led him out with us.
I looked backward just once. The shimmering
had started to rotate, spinning one way,
then back, and then both ways at the same time.
Within it, Jenny, still in sillhouette,
for all the brightness, seemed to be touching
whatever now enclosed her in itself.
Half carrying Crowl, who was weak and limp,
we made our way from the vibrating barn.
Crowl's thug was sitting smugly in the car.
But at the sight of us three, he became
frightened, started the car, and rushed away.
The waiting chauffer helped Lo-Don put Crowl
into that car. The old barn's timber roof
exploded and out of the gash emerged
the alien, moving at such a speed
I barely had a final, fleeting glimpse
of Jenny looking upward toward the first
stars of the evening. In the nearby sky,
a small plane seemed to swerve a bit, as if
the pilot had been startled by what soared
past. Jenny and her lover disappeared,
lost in the distance of earth's atmosphere,
and onward to the vastness of deep space.
We drove back to the city. Crowl never
regained his senses or his mind. They say
he died in an asylum, still without
ability to speak a single word,
except to laugh or scream once in a while,
or cowering in corners as if to
escape some horrible threat hovering
near. Lo Don helped us, each, escape Crowl's place.
He found us, each, apartments and good jobs.
Then he, too, disappeared with lots of wealth.
They say the market's crash in '29
did not affect his holdings, not one bit.
Depression and the second world war took
its toll on our whole country. One by one
we, who were once Crowl's girls, drifted apart.
I am the last one left. I have begun
to drink; the guilt haunts me. Crowl might not have
followed them had I not betrayed Jenny.
I think she knew that I had done so, but
I think I know that she forgives me from
wherever in the galaxy she is.
But I cannot forgive myself at all.
And, sometimes, I look up at the night's stars,
where she is now, still pleasured by that thing,
and I question the hard reality:
"Why her," I ask myself, "and why not me?"