She balled up her clothes and returned to her room, sank to her knees, and pulled the trundle out from under her bed. With her knees practically knocking into her ears, she sat on the low-lying trundle and brushed her hair to distract her from thinking about Miss Albright. She lowered her hairbrush and breathed in the mixture of something floral emanating from the teacher, perhaps rosewater, and though she longed to lean in closer to inhale deeper, she kept focused on the plain white sheets of her trundle bed.
But then she snuck a peek at the woman. She couldn’t resist.
With her back to Helen, Miss Albright unbuttoned her poplin dress and hung it on a peg on the back of the door, slipped off her brassiere from under her slip, and rubbed a damp washcloth over her face and neck, then dabbed it at her underarms. Helen flushed at the intimacy of the gesture and pretended to check the buttons on her pajama top, but out of the corner of her eye, she kept studying the woman. Tendrils of blond curls had fallen from Miss Albright’s French twist and clung to the soft white skin of her neck. The graceful ridges of the musculature of her shoulders rose and fell beneath the ivory-colored straps of her slip as she continued her grooming. Helen found her gaze traveling downward along the curve of the woman’s back. She swallowed and looked down at her own feet. Thin lines of dirt clung to the wrinkles around her toes as if sketched in black ink. From where her chest leaned against her thigh, she felt her heart racing.
“Want me to brush your hair?”
Helen startled. “What?”
Miss Albright gestured at the hairbrush lying on the floor beside Helen. “Your hair. Want me to brush it?”
“It’s not very long. All of the other girls I know have longer hair, but mine seems to work best short.”
“Short or long, it will still be good to have it brushed.”
“Um, yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And since we’re sharing a bedroom, you might as well call me Polly.”
Polly. Turning away from her, Helen mouthed the name, but couldn’t actually bring herself to say it aloud. “All right.”
Miss Albright—or Polly—bent over to pick up the hairbrush and lowered herself to sit on the trundle bed. Helen caught a glimpse of the pale swell of her breasts through the thin slip she wore and quickly turned away. The woman placed the hairbrush on Helen’s scalp and began to brush downward, slowly and smoothly. Helen felt the woman’s breath on the back of her neck and sat straighter, as if this could bring her closer.
“You have lovely hair.”
Lovely. Helen’s heart felt as though it expanded by several inches. A compliment such as this felt extravagant and she fumbled over how to respond. “I’ve started pinning it into curls at night during the week.” Her voice sounded deep and gravelly, more so than usual, but she continued. “But since I help Pa with chores on the weekend, it seems like a waste of time to get it all dolled up while I’m here.”
“Why wasn’t your pa at dinner with us?”
“He’s working. He’s doing everything himself. Well, mostly. I help too. When I can.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
Helen pondered the way Pa always wanted her help, but never appeared satisfied by her efforts. “He doesn’t really see it that way.”
The brushing paused. “How come?”
Helen thought back to that time she’d overheard Pa talking with Dr. McCubbin. I never wanted her. She shook her head as if the memory could be knocked away. “He just doesn’t.”
“Hmm. I see.” Miss Albright sounded wistful. “Fathers can be like that.”
The brushing started again. Determined not to let thoughts of Pa ruin the moment, Helen closed her eyes and let her head roll with the steady pace of it.
After several minutes of silence, Miss Albright lowered the hairbrush to the blanket. “Perfect, my dear. Your hair looks wonderful.”
Again, Helen savored the compliment, and the feeling of goodwill emboldened her. “Polly, shall I brush your hair too?” It felt daring to use the woman’s first name, a little risky and wild, but the woman appeared unfazed.
“My, what a treat. How can I say no to that?”
The two shifted on the trundle to switch places and Polly ran a hand along Helen’s hip to guide her past. Helen slowed, relishing the touch before settling into position. With the first downstroke of the hairbrush, a small sigh escaped from Polly. Helen reached forward to smooth Polly’s hair back toward her and allowed her palm to linger along the teacher’s cheek. It was smooth and warm, just as Helen had imagined.
After several minutes of quiet brushing, Polly gave a long yawn. “I suppose it’s time for bed.” The trundle shifted as she slid off to stand and switched off the light.
Helen slid down under her covers into the space warmed by where they had been sitting. “Good night.”
“Good night, my dear.”
Helen gazed upward at the woman’s standing figure, slatted with silver streaks of moonlight sifting through the window. Polly stretched her arms upward and—to Helen’s amazement—lifted her slip and held it overhead like she was using it as a kite awaiting a breeze. She dropped it to the foot of the bed and stooped to shimmy out of her underpants, then straightened—stark naked. Helen watched, mesmerized, as the woman crawled onto the bed and disappeared under the bedspread.
Helen’s face burned as if on fire. She never had been so grateful for the cover of darkness.
How much time passed? Later, when she tried to recall exactly what happened next, she could never be sure. All she could remember was that she startled at the touch of fingers grazing her forearms as they crept along her skin to her shoulders. Helen cracked her eyes open to find Polly leaning over her, a tender expression playing across the woman’s face.
Helen inhaled sharply and pushed herself up onto her elbow to be closer, to see how Polly’s skin glowed luminous in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful,” Helen murmured.
It was at that point Polly leaned in and brought her lips to Helen’s. Astonished, Helen squeezed her eyes closed and concentrated on the gentle pressure coming from the woman’s soft lips, the flicker of her tongue. Helen leaned in to deepen the kiss. This was nothing like what had happened with Jimmy years before in the school’s outbuilding. This was tender and soft. Every part of her tingled. Her eyes shot open. How can people close their eyes during this? She wanted to see exactly what was happening, to make sense of what was happening.
This felt both entirely unexpected, yet also somehow exactly like what she had been waiting for. At first she didn’t know what to do, and she watched how Polly’s face transformed into delight, so she settled into feeling what was happening instead of thinking about it.
The two became breathless as they merged into a tangle, hands everywhere, sighs of delight. An urgency overcame Helen and she pressed her body harder against Polly’s. It felt as if her insides were reconfiguring into a million sparks. And then an explosion blossomed deep inside Helen—at some point her eyes had closed, but now they popped open in both shock and thrilled excitement. She tried to catch her breath. How had she gotten carried away and let all caution evaporate?
Gently, Polly began to extract herself from the bed and Helen’s heart stalled, but when she pushed her hair from her face to get a better look at Polly, a sated smile stretched across the other woman’s face. Helen exhaled. Polly had seen Helen stripped of all pretending and not only was she not disgusted—she looked pleased.