When Vern went inside, all was quiet but for the snores of her babes in front of the woodstove and a soft pattering from the kitchen.
Vern stiffened. “Hello?” she whispered.
“It’s just me,” said Gogo.
“Did I—I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Gogo said, and emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Her hair was down, and she wore only a ratty old T-shirt and briefs, some thick socks. “Is that all you were wearing out there? Are you cold? I can add wood to the stove.” Gogo set her coffee on the side table next to the sofa and grabbed the throw hanging over the back edge of it.
Vern shook her head. “I can’t feel it, not anymore. Well, I can. It just doesn’t hurt.”
“You’re soaking wet,” Gogo said skeptically, and used the throw to dry Vern’s hair, which was sodden with melted snow. “I know you think you’re invincible, but you’ve still got to take care of yourself. Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean it’s having no effect. We already know your body runs hot. Think about how much harder that is to maintain in the cold.”
Gogo had a tendency to lecture. She was bossy by nature and spoke with authority, ever certain of what was best. In this case, Vern could admit that she was at her tiredest, weakest, and hungriest after her morning jaunts outside and would often sleep in front of the woodstove until early afternoon recovering, missing half the day.
“You’re finally starting to put on some weight, but if you keep going out every morning…” said Gogo, letting the rest of the sentence finish itself.
Vern’s cheeks tingled with sudden warmth. “You know I go out there every morning?” Vern had been less discreet than she’d thought.
Gogo swallowed and glanced downward before returning her eyes to Vern. “I see you sometimes, yeah. Through my window. I keep it open in the night or else I overheat, but by morning I have to close it, and I’ll occasionally get a glimpse of you.”
“Do you see what I do out there?” asked Vern with a swallow both thick and heavy, aware now of how little she was wearing. The length of the sweater hung only just below her bottom. Its V-neck, designed for a body larger than hers, slit down almost to her tummy, leaving the inside edges of her breasts visible.
Gogo turned away and shrugged. “I hear you sometimes,” she said, and refolded the throw she’d used to dry Vern.
Feeling bold, Vern stepped forward and licked her bottom lip. The thought that her delirious exultations might have carried into Gogo’s room through an open window brought out the sinner in her. “Did you hear me today?”
Gogo mumbled a quiet yes as she returned the folded throw to the sofa, and Vern stepped forward once more. “And do you ever—” Vern began, then stopped. “Do you ever watch?”
With breakneck speed, Gogo whipped her gaze toward Vern. She glared, eyes squinted. “No,” she said sharply, loudly enough that one of the children briefly stirred under the blankets. “I would never, ever do that, Vern.”
The ardor of the denial jolted Vern out of her wanton reverie. Gogo was disgusted by the very thought of Vern’s sexuality, and she had every right to be. Vern was not a woman whose body could be trusted. Sherman had often called attention to the specific wickedness of those who lusted after the same sex, and though Vern could see no special reason why this would be so, her aggressive lack of chasteness did seem evidence of her degeneracy. Had it not been her desire that had primed her toward Ollie?
Under the logic that her life was her own business and she didn’t hurt anyone by living it according to her own whims, Vern had always fought mightily to make room for herself. But perhaps by merely existing her sexuality was an imposition.
Gogo’s disgust was all Vern needed in the way of chastisement. Like an unruly child, she needed to get herself under control.
“I’ve got to get dressed,” said Vern, and grabbed dirty items from the garbage bag she used as a hamper. Inside the bathroom, she whisked off Gogo’s sweater and replaced it with her own T-shirt and overlayer. She pulled on leggings and jeans next, then socks and her soft slipper boots.
Vern had to find Lucy. She was the only person who could see into Vern and understand her. Plus, Vern couldn’t offend someone who wasn’t really there.
Vern returned to the living room to find the children were awake. Her conversation with Gogo must’ve nudged them toward consciousness. “Mam!” said Feral. “Come outside with us.”