9
Heebee-Jeebies and Confessions
24 August 1943
Iris had wondered if she liked girls.
She didn’t know any girls she’d care to share secrets with, let alone her body, but she’d been amused at the thought of how it would push her mother over the edge. Her sting again. She smiled, then looked up to see rain gushing down the hospital window. Rain usually made her feel blue, but today its copious flow pounded the pane in three syllables: Pee-Et-Ro. She imagined that’s how he would pronounce it. Pee-Et-Ro. You’re okay, Mom. I’m 100 percent heterosexual. Pee-Et-Ro. The very pronunciation gave her the girly hots. She felt like a dog shaking itself after a swim. The mini-spasm started at her head and shook all the way to her tail.
She pushed the mop through the ward on automatic. Would he writ
