Transfiguration

Chapter One

Chapter One

December 1926…

Wind rattled the sashes and pelted the bedroom windowpanes with granular snow. Three girls in flannel nightgowns and woolen stockings had squeezed into Dahlia Smythe’s brass bed. They lay together warm and snug beneath layered quilts and blankets. Dahlia the queen bee was in the middle. Margaret Rand lay on one side of her. Betsy Wycliffe lay on the other side.

Dahlia pulled the covers up to her chin and said importantly, “Well, if you ask me, we should call ourselves the Triumvirate.” She spoke emphatically with a look that implied she was speaking ex cathedra. Dahlia got away with it because she was after all their acknowledged queen and leader. She took Margaret’s and Betsy’s hands in hers and said, “Come on now, ladies, all together....” She began to chant in a singsong voice, “We are the Triumvirate…All for one and one for all!”

Betsy never could keep a straight face. She tried hard while she mouthed the words, but she could not stop a spate of giggling. Dahlia gave her a stern look.

“What is so funny? I’m trying to be serious-”

Betsy burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, Dahlia. I just had…a thought…maybe we should call ourselves the busty Triumvirate.” I mean look at us - the three of us.”

“Yeah. We’re the three bustiest girls in the school,” Margaret added. “Can you imagine how big we’ll be when we’re our moms’ age with kids?”

“Talk about jiggling,” Betsy interjected, which sent them all into hysterics.

“Look,” Dahlia said. “I know we’re busty. Our bound flat-chested classmates won’t admit it, but they secretly envy our big boobs. And those pimple-faced juvenile delinquent boys don’t seem to mind how we fill out our sweaters.”

“But, Margaret, that’s not really the point, is it?” Betsy asked. “I like Dahlia’s suggestion. Triumvirate does have a nice authoritative ring to it. At the same time, do you think it is too masculine, too heavy-handed? With all due respect, we may be heavy-handed in our dealings with boys, but more importantly, we are women. What if we called ourselves the Circle, the Circle of Women?”

Enthroned in her pillows, Dahlia extricated herself from her bed partners and sat up. She jabbed her index finger into the freezing air. “Betsy, I love that! It is more feminine and sensible. It suggests we’ve circled our wagons. A circle has power. It has no beginning and it has no end. It is forever. Our power is forever. We must always stay together.”

“Well then, I vote for Circle,” Margaret said emphatically. “We should be together and in control. It’s like Miss Calvin says in civics class. It’s like voting. It is our right and our responsibility to take charge. When I babysit, I always ask the mom for permission to spank her kids.”

“Do you ever ask the dads?” Betsy asked.

“Are you kidding?”

“Well then,” Dahlia said. “We are in agreement. We are Circle and like our moms we vow to manage our homes and do all the discipline.”

“Absolutely,” Betsy concurred. “The moms I sit for wouldn’t hire me if I didn’t spank, which begs the question, aren’t these moms in Circle, too?”

Dahlia considered that. “I see what you mean, Betsy. Circle should spread from woman to woman, grandma to mom to daughter like ripples in a pond.”

“So, Dahlia, where are we headed with this…Circle?” Margaret asked.

“Well,” Dahlia replied, smugly, “it means when we marry, it will be on our terms. We must stop wearing brassieres. It’s too artificial and unwomanly. It projects the wrong image. We will handpick our husbands. They must be years younger than us. From the day we engage to be married, we will be in complete charge. We will teach our boys to obey and we will make all the decisions. They will do as we say or else.”

“Or else what, Dahlia?” Margaret asked teasingly while she smiled at Betsy who was preoccupied with burrowing herself into Dahlia’s warmth.

“Else we get out our whip and flay that boy until he does mind.”

“That sounds scrumptious and I love being liberated from those damnable brassiere straps.” Betsy sighed. “I hope you two will share your husbands’ punishments with me because I myself have no intention of marrying. I don’t want a husband underfoot.”

Margaret said, “I expect to marry, Dahlia, and follow your lead after we graduate from college.”

Dahlia smiled with satisfaction. “I’m pleased to hear that, Margaret. We must maintain and grow our Circle while we are still in high school and go on to St. Catherine’s. We can decide later about marriage. Since I intend to enroll in the nursing program I expect to marry a doctor.” Margaret didn’t doubt for a second that Dahlia would fulfill that goal.

By the time the three young women graduated from St. Catherine’s college in 1931 their concept of Circle and female superiority had fully evolved. They left the school with a deepened sensibility and a ripe need to punish and control. When they returned to their hometown, Margaret, now an accounting major, went to work in her mother’s Sunshine Laundry business. Dahlia began her nursing career and a search for a physician husband. Betsy began teaching seventh grade and ignored the swarm of young men who wanted nothing but to fondle and bed her. The three women flourished each in her own way within the tight-knit bond of Circle that would sustain them for the rest of their lives.