Rose paced angrily around her room. Her stomach growled hungrily as she smelled the food from downstairs, though the taste of soap still lingered in her mouth.
Finally, she stalked into the bathroom, bending over the sink and rinsing her mouth again and again. When the taste had finally disappeared, she went back into her bedroom, digging under her mattress for one of the candy bars she had hidden there.
She ate sullenly, not enjoying the taste of the chocolate as much as she usually did. She thought longingly of the pack of cigarettes she had also hidden under the mattress, but knew better than to light up in the house.
When the phone rang, she ignored it. She had her own phone in her room—her parents had given it to her for her thirteenth birthday, a pink Princess phone that had matched what had then been the décor of the room. After her mother’s reaction to her acceptance to Berkeley, she didn’t want to talk to anyone.
When the phone was answered downstairs, Rose went back to pacing. When her eyes fell on the stack of papers from Berkeley that still sat on her desk, she strode over and swept them to the floor. What did it matter? She had wanted to go there more than anything, but what she wanted didn’t matter.
Rose jumped, startled, when someone knocked on the door. “Rose!” Lucy called from outside. “The phone’s for you!”
Rose picked it up. “Hello?”
“Rose! I got in!” a voice squealed so loudly that Rose had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“What? You got into what, Marla?” she asked. She heard a giggle that wasn’t Marla’s on the phone. “Lucy! Hang up!” she demanded. Rose hated it when her sisters listened in on her phone conversations. When a soft click told her that Lucy had finally hung up the extension, she repeated, “What did you get into?”
Marla sighed in exasperation. “Rose, what have we been talking about all this time? College! I got into the one I wanted! I’ll be going to Columbia University in the fall!”
Rose started to respond, then stopped, feeling jealousy wash over her. Marla was going to the university of her choice. Her parents weren’t insisting that she give up her dreams for the family’s finances. The Brunners were “new money,” as her mother put it, but they had no financial worries. Even if they had, Rose didn’t see them marrying off their daughter to improve their station in life.
“Rose? Are you there?” Marla asked, and Rose realized she had been standing in silence for most of a minute.
“Yes, I’m here.” Rose tried to think of something to say. “Columbia…that’s great, Marla. I know how much you want to go there.”
“Well, don’t get too excited, Rose. I know it’s not Berkeley, but I’d be excited for you if you got in there.”
Rose sighed, sinking down into a chair next to the phone. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re going to Columbia. Really.”
It was Marla’s turn to be silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. “Oh, no. You heard from Berkeley, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And they rejected you?! But why? You’ve had straight A’s all through school and you’re a great artist and you got lots of letters of recommendation and everyone else accepted you—“
“They didn’t reject me. I got in.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I can’t go. I’m getting married in June.”
“Oh.” Marla thought for a moment. “But why does that matter? Can’t you put the wedding off?”
Rose laughed bitterly. “Putting it off is out of the question. My mother would never—“
“What does your mother have to do with it? You’re not marrying her! What did Cal say?”
“I haven’t talked to him about it,” Rose admitted. I didn’t want to hear his opinion on my dreams, she thought, but didn’t say it.
“Well, it’s your wedding. If you want to go to college, you should be able to.”
Rose hadn’t told Marla about her family’s money problems, and she didn’t intend to do so—largely because her mother was ashamed of the situation and didn’t want anyone to know about it. “I don’t know, Marla…”
“Rose, don’t be such a candyass!”
“Marla!” Rose couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “All right. I’ll talk to Cal. Are you satisfied?”
“You’d better. And tell me how it goes. You’ll get there, Rose, one way or another.”
After hanging up, Rose searched through her desk for Cal’s phone number at Yale, steeling herself for the conversation to come. Cal didn’t like it when she called him at school, always acting as though she was interrupting something important. This conversation, however, was one she felt couldn’t wait.
Unfortunately, this was one of the times when Cal was definitely not appreciative of her interruption. The phone rang twenty times before someone finally picked it up, shouting into the receiver to be heard over the loud music and voices.
“Hello?!”
Whoever it was sounded drunk, and it took several tries before Rose got through to him that she wanted to talk to her fiancé.
“You want to talk to Al? Who’s Al?”
“No, Cal! Cal Hockley! Get him for me!”
The person who had answered the phone yelled into the crowd, then dropped the receiver. It was several minutes before it was finally picked up.
“Rose?” Cal’s voice was slurred, and he sounded annoyed. “What do you want?”
Rose ignored his rude greeting. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I got accepted into the University of California, Berkeley.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a college, Cal—in California.”
“What about it?”
“They accepted me for next fall, and I want to go, but…”
“We’re getting married in June.”
“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to put off the wedding for a while so I can—“
“No.” Cal’s voice brooked no argument. “We’re not putting off the wedding.”
“Then maybe I can go to California for college and come home during vacations, and we can see each other then. Plenty of married couples live apart some of the time.”
“Absolutely not. After we’re married, we’re living together, and you’re not going off across the country without me. You don’t need to go to college. The only reason for a woman to go to college is so she can find a husband.”
“I don’t want to look for a husband, Cal—I want to study art.”
“I’m not putting off the wedding so you can go to California and pretend to be an artist—“
“I’m not pretending! I’m good at art, and I think I can make a career of it—“
“No! Goddammit, Rose! You’re my fiancée, and you’ll be my wife. You’re not going to waste time playing at having a career.”
“I’m not playing! Dammit, Cal, they offered me a full scholarship, and I’m good at art. I’ve gotten awards, and all my teachers say—“
“Silly high school nonsense. Sweetpea, I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to study.”
Before Rose could say another word, he hung up. She stood clutching the receiver, listening to the dial tone for a moment, before she slammed it down.
“Damn you, Cal!” she whispered, staring at the phone.
College didn’t mean much to Cal. There had never been any question that he would be accepted into Yale—his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all graduated from there, and there had never been any doubt that Cal would continue that legacy. As such, he felt no real need to work hard. For Cal, college was a four-year party briefly interrupted by studying.
Rose wanted to go to college, wanted to study and learn as much as she could. There was a whole world of knowledge out there, and she wanted to explore as much of it as possible.
Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be possible. She was going to be married in June, whether she liked it or not, and after that she would be trapped in a dull domestic life and an endless round of society events. The DeWitt-Bukaters’ financial standing and social position would be saved, Cal would have her on his arm as he finished his degree and took his place in Hockley Steel—and she would be miserable.
Maybe I am being selfish, she thought. Why should what I want matter when my mother and sisters could end up in poverty without my marriage?
But why is it all on my shoulders? Why should I be the one to give up everything? My going to college wouldn’t take anything away from Mom and the twins—they’re offering me a full scholarship, and I’m sure I could find a job to pay for everything else. If I had a career, I could help them by sending them money—and I wouldn’t have to worry about winding up in the same position as Mom.
Tears blurred her eyes as she thought about what her future held—and didn’t hold. It’s not fair! she thought suddenly. Everyone has a future except me. Marla is going to Columbia University, Cal will get a degree from Yale and have a career without even having to work for it, and Jack will go somewhere—whether it’s Berkeley or not. Mom will have all the luxuries she could want, and she’ll never have to work for them. Lucy and Julie will graduate from private school and undoubtedly marry rich men. But all I have to look forward to is being married to a man I don’t love, living a life I don’t want.
Rose sank down in her chair, suddenly overwhelmed with anger and despair. I can’t take it! I won’t!
She leaped to her feet, lashing out in fury. Grabbing the telephone, she yanked at it until it came loose from the wall, then threw it to the ground. It landed with a clang, the dial flying off and landing several feet away. Rose kicked the offending machine, then turned her anger on her desk. Paper, pens, art supplies, and books went flying, landing with a crash. Rose had just turned her attention to her vanity, throwing her jewelry box against the mirror and cracking it, when the door flew open.
“Rosalind Sarah DeWitt-Bukater! What do you think you’re doing?!” Ruth stood in the doorway, staring at her sobbing, red-faced daughter and the mess she’d made of her room.
“Leave me alone!” Rose screamed, standing in the midst of her scattered jewelry. “I don’t want to talk to you right now!”
Ruth strode across the room and slapped her. Rose collapsed on her bed, still sobbing.
“I expect this to be cleaned up before you go to bed,” Ruth told her. “Mrs. Di Rossi is not cleaning this up for you.” She surveyed the mess a moment longer, then added, “And I hope you realize that you won’t be getting a new telephone or a new mirror for your vanity.”
“I don’t care!” Rose sobbed. “I don’t care about any of it! And I don’t want Mrs. Di Rossi to clean up after me! I can take care of myself!”
“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t be acting this way. I don’t understand you, Rose. You have everything a girl could want, and yet you insist upon acting like a spoiled brat. Now, clean this up. And yes, Rose, I am going to check.”
With that, Ruth left, leaving Rose staring after her in misery, her face still tear-streaked and her breath still hitching with sobs.