“Have you ever gone out with Ernie Robbins? He’s small, but he’s mighty.”
“Alex asked me for a date tonight. What’s the dope?”
“The dope is Alex. Save yourself the trouble. He took me out to the beach last week.
He pulled down my pants and started to grope me, and I started to grope him, but I
couldn’t find it.” Laughter.
Catherine thought the conversations were vulgar and disgusting and she tried not to
miss a word. It was an exercise in masochism. As the girls described their sexual exploits,
Catherine visualized herself in bed with a boy, having him make wild and frantic love to
her. She would feel a physical ache in her groin and press her fists hard against her thighs,
trying to hurt herself, to take her mind off the other pain. My God, she thought, I’m going
to die a virgin. The only nineteen-year-old virgin at Northwestern. Northwestern, hell,
maybe even the United States! The Virgin Catherine. The Church will make me a Saint and
they’ll light candles to me once a year. What’s the matter with me? she thought. I’ll tell
you, she answered herself. Nobody’s asked you and it takes two to play. I mean, if you
want to do it right, it takes two to play.
The name that most frequently cropped up in the girls’ sexual conversations was Ron
Peterson. He had enrolled at Northwestern on an athletic scholarship and was as popular
here as he had been at Senn High School. He had been elected freshman class president.
Catherine saw him in her Latin class the day the term began. He was even better looking
than he had been in high school, his body had filled out, and his face had taken on a
rugged devil-may-care maturity. After class, he walked toward her, and her heart began to
pound.
Catherine Alexander!
Hello, Ron.
Are you in this class?
Yes.
What a break for me.
Why?
Why? Because I don’t know anything about Latin and you’re a genius. We’re going to
make beautiful music. Are you doing anything tonight?
Nothing special. Do you want to study together?
Let’s go to the beach where we can be alone. We can study any time.
He was staring at her.
“Hey!…er—?” trying to think of her name.
She swallowed, trying desperately to remember, herself. “Catherine,” she said
quickly. “Catherine Alexander.”