Stalwart

UGLY BESS

 

I try not to look at her when we have to use the same shower and tiny dressing space after gym every Wednesday, but can't help it. There is barely room to hang our clothes on hooks, run thru the luke warm water and re-dress. She and I have no time to speak to each other either. Bess turns her back to me, covers her boney chest, scarred arms and barely gets wet. She pats herself dry and disappears. We don't meet again until the next Wednesday.

 

As classes change, I sometimes catch a glimpse of her,  walking quickly without a partner. Too many times I have seen her in the cafeteria, sitting alone at the end of a row, drinking her bottle of milk, eating a salad. Each time I pity her but doubt very much she wants pity and am reluctant to push myself on her. My guilt eats me alive sometimes. Then a classmate, a cute boy stops to talk to me for a minute and I forget about Bess. When I look again, somebody else is sitting where she sat.

 

Tommy, my present temporary crush, talks to me about Bess and I ask him not to refer to her as 'poor Bess.' If she hears anyone say that, I know her pain will be worse. 'Tommy, let's try to crack Bess' shell. I can't even imagine, don't want to know what she has been thru. I'm going to ask her to go to the movies with me Saturday. I think The Penn is giving a special on old time comedies just for kids. Want to come with us–if she'll go?' 'Janet, I would if I could but I have a tennis lesson Saturday noon to 2. Can't make it. Maybe some other time.' 'Tommy go jump in the lake. You bore me.'

 

I get a hold of Sue, Chuck, Harold and ask them to come with me IF Bess will go to the movies Saturday and they each find a reason to say, 'Sorry, some other time.' I am not dismayed. As soon as Bess sprinkles herself in the shower on Wednesday, I stop her before she can get her blouse over her head. I take a deep breath of air and just say, 'Hi, Bess. Need another towel? I'll get one for you.' She shakes her head no, mumbles 'thanks', and leaves me sopping, dripping on my shoes.

 

The week-end goes slowly. I plan a new way to reach Bess. Monday morning I watch for her mother to drop her off at Jefferson High's
main entrance and I wait as Bess walks up the high white steps.
My voice perhaps shaky, I turn it into a smile. 'Hi, Bess. You know me, I'm your shower ghost. Wonder if you would like to go with me Saturday to see yet another re-run of 'Wizard of Oz.' I've seen it three times and just love it.' I wait. Bess almost smiles but tells me she can't go. Saturdays are always busy. 'OK, Bess, how about Sunday?' 'I'm busy Sundays too.' Bess walks  into school just as the first bell rings. I hurry and make it to my room on time.

 

Wednesday shower time takes more than a week to happen. She pulls her hand away as I grab for it. 'Let go, Janet. That hurts.' I apologize. 'I only wanted to ask you to go to the movies with me and another couple of kids in my class. What about it?' Bess tells me again that she is busy on week-ends. I pin her down. 'What's so important you can't hang out with us once in a while?, I ask. She turns her head away as if ashamed, turns back to tell me she goes to St. Regis hospital every week-end to talk to other kids who have been burned, play games with them, show them the tricks she can do, reads to them.

 

I feel like a jerk. ' Bess, can I go there with you? Maybe I can help.' The curtain opens. Bess' eyes tear. 'Would you really do that, Janet?' 
'Not only will I go with you, I might get my friend Tommy to come along. How about that?' 

 

I leave her standing outside her home room door and wave. 'I'll save  you a seat in cafeteria today. Look for me!