father and brother more, with this new job I feel the emptiness less. My days are filled with work, writing and typing, figuring and organizing, and when I come home, I am eager to spend the evenings and weekends keeping up with my own personal record here in my tablets. The pain of missing Papa and Benny is overtaken by the busyness of my mind and hand. I am grateful to Mr. Soper; the difficulty of the tasks he entrusts to me, every moment of the day my thoughts absorbed by puzzles he presents me. Itâs the type of work I have needed, the challenge that will help me overcome old sorrows.
November 2, 1906
M arm agreed that the first weeks of my pay should go toward improving my wardrobe, so I went to Macyâs and bought three shirtwaists (a mint green, a pale yellow, and peach), and two brown tweed skirts, which are more professional than my school skirts. I used the last of my pennies to surprise Marm with a sliver of her favorite cheesecake from Rosarioâs Bakery. As I was leaving, I glimpsed a familiar face at one of the tables, sitting alone in front of a giant chocolate bonbon. For a moment I couldnât place her, then of course it struck me; it was Josephine, from school. School has been so far from my thoughts, but upon seeing Jo, it came rushing back to me, the easy company of the girls, the undemanding work.
My unhappiness there.
Wiping the sticky smear from her lips, Jo asked what hadhappened to me. It seems Mrs. Browning pretends I never existed, and the girls were talking of coming to my apartment to search for me. Jo asked if I was sickâI think they were afraid I might have died. I told her about Marmâs argument with Mrs. Browning, and my new job, and she asked me to help finish off her forbidden delight. She wanted me to go on a trolley ride to Coney Island with her and the girls this Sunday, but I told her of my commitment to spend the day catching up in my tablet. I tried to explain how important my notes were to me, then stopped when I saw her eyes drifting. She mentioned her engagement to Will Stryker, the marriage date set for a month from now. When I inquired why the wedding was so soon, a sunrise pinked her cheek, and I asked the poor girl no more questions.
Seeing so many girls who are nearly my age having babies, it makes me thinkâwill I ever have one? I have thought it through, and for three reasons, I feel childbearing distant from me: (1) because Iâve seen the pain of birth, and the rate of death alarms meâuntil I know more about why mothers and babies die, I wouldnât take such a step; (2) I want to have my life to myself, and not give it away to a helpless creature who needs me at every turn: food, comfort, bath, shelter; and (3) while I would be curious to observe the process ofa child growing inside me (cell by cell?), the thought of its flesh and bones and muscles pushing me outward to make room for itself makes me somewhat queasy.
I talked my thoughts over with Marm, and she was quiet. Then she said I felt that way because I had not found a beau to love. I could nearly touch her soreness, the way my father left us. And I wonder if itâs true: Do I not dare to love someone the way other girls my age do? When I think of love with a boy, that place in my chest tenses, and the question comes: If I loved someone, if I allowed that sort of warmth into my heart, would he go away?
My solitude at times is overwhelming, but I fear the pain of loss is worse.
November 5, 1906
A fter our inconclusive test results, Mr. Soper and I traveled to Long Island once again to speak with the family and servants, and to visit farms and food establishments nearby the house.
An old Indian woman with two long braids and colorful embroidered clothing lives in a tent by the shore and sells shellfish to all of Oyster Bay. She let us take some samples of her goods but pointed out that if her foodstuffs were tainted, the whole neighborhood wouldâve become ill. Mr.
November 2, 1906
M arm agreed that the first weeks of my pay should go toward improving my wardrobe, so I went to Macyâs and bought three shirtwaists (a mint green, a pale yellow, and peach), and two brown tweed skirts, which are more professional than my school skirts. I used the last of my pennies to surprise Marm with a sliver of her favorite cheesecake from Rosarioâs Bakery. As I was leaving, I glimpsed a familiar face at one of the tables, sitting alone in front of a giant chocolate bonbon. For a moment I couldnât place her, then of course it struck me; it was Josephine, from school. School has been so far from my thoughts, but upon seeing Jo, it came rushing back to me, the easy company of the girls, the undemanding work.
My unhappiness there.
Wiping the sticky smear from her lips, Jo asked what hadhappened to me. It seems Mrs. Browning pretends I never existed, and the girls were talking of coming to my apartment to search for me. Jo asked if I was sickâI think they were afraid I might have died. I told her about Marmâs argument with Mrs. Browning, and my new job, and she asked me to help finish off her forbidden delight. She wanted me to go on a trolley ride to Coney Island with her and the girls this Sunday, but I told her of my commitment to spend the day catching up in my tablet. I tried to explain how important my notes were to me, then stopped when I saw her eyes drifting. She mentioned her engagement to Will Stryker, the marriage date set for a month from now. When I inquired why the wedding was so soon, a sunrise pinked her cheek, and I asked the poor girl no more questions.
Seeing so many girls who are nearly my age having babies, it makes me thinkâwill I ever have one? I have thought it through, and for three reasons, I feel childbearing distant from me: (1) because Iâve seen the pain of birth, and the rate of death alarms meâuntil I know more about why mothers and babies die, I wouldnât take such a step; (2) I want to have my life to myself, and not give it away to a helpless creature who needs me at every turn: food, comfort, bath, shelter; and (3) while I would be curious to observe the process ofa child growing inside me (cell by cell?), the thought of its flesh and bones and muscles pushing me outward to make room for itself makes me somewhat queasy.
I talked my thoughts over with Marm, and she was quiet. Then she said I felt that way because I had not found a beau to love. I could nearly touch her soreness, the way my father left us. And I wonder if itâs true: Do I not dare to love someone the way other girls my age do? When I think of love with a boy, that place in my chest tenses, and the question comes: If I loved someone, if I allowed that sort of warmth into my heart, would he go away?
My solitude at times is overwhelming, but I fear the pain of loss is worse.
November 5, 1906
A fter our inconclusive test results, Mr. Soper and I traveled to Long Island once again to speak with the family and servants, and to visit farms and food establishments nearby the house.
An old Indian woman with two long braids and colorful embroidered clothing lives in a tent by the shore and sells shellfish to all of Oyster Bay. She let us take some samples of her goods but pointed out that if her foodstuffs were tainted, the whole neighborhood wouldâve become ill. Mr.
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