Rae Strickland

The excerpt below is the novel’s second scene, introducing the main character, Ursula, and her predicament. The previous (first) scene is set in an ambulance that is taking Ursula’s mother, Marilyn, to the hospital. She is dying of cancer. The year is 1971. Ursula and the sailor sat at a picnic table on the upper terrace of the Surf ‘n Sand Lounge, looking down at the nearly empty boardwalk. Children weren’t allowed here, but it was a Tuesday afternoon, mid-September. The waitress had taken a long look at the sailor with Ursula in tow and shrugged. It was her first table in over an hour. Ursula looked around the terrace. She had often stood on the boardwalk below, hoping for a chance to attract Marilyn’s attention. She knew not to waste her energy if Marilyn was dancing with one of the sailors, so she waited for Marilyn to turn to watch the sunset or for her to trail one glamorous arm over the railing toward the sea, letting her gaze follow. Then Ursula would wave and shout, jumping up and down in her intensity. Marilyn leaned down out of the Bossa Nova music, and the last rays of the sun on the sparkly beads at her throat and in her hair made her a princess. “Hi, kid,” Marilyn would call. “Throw me a kiss!” Ursula answered. It was a game they played. Marilyn picked up a cocktail napkin and pressed it firmly to her lips, then draped herself over the terrace rail and let it drop, watching as it fluttered down to Ursula. But she had been littler then. The whole summer had gone by and she hadn’t come to collect a single kiss. But then again, Marilyn hadn’t come dancing much since the sickness. And now that Ursula was really here, she could see that the blue and red umbrellas were frayed and the surfaces of the white wooden tables were caked with ancient seagull droppings. Still, this place was nothing short of splendid when Marilyn was in it. It was important to make the sailor realize that she wasn’t a child, that she would be perfectly okay on her own until Marilyn got back. She knew she looked younger than she was, and being so skinny was no help, either. But even so, she thought she must be doing okay—after all, he’d brought her to a bar. On the other hand, she’d behaved dreadfully earlier, crying and crying until he had given her a hard shake. There was no telling what he really thought of her. Twelve was old, really. Being alone for a few hours or even a few days was no big deal. In fact, it would be easier. She’d have only herself to look after. And when Marilyn came home she’d do a better job of taking care of her, honest she would. Ursula picked fabric pills off her skirt, secretly studying her companion through her lashes. She thought of him as her mother’s boyfriend, though she had never seen him before that afternoon, when he had shown up at their door. He’d worn his dress whites and carried a plastic box with two orchid blooms in it. Marilyn used to have lots of dates with the submariners from Groton, but hardly any had brought flowers. Ursula had flung open the door and found him. That was as much as she remembered concretely; the rest had dissolved in her great relief. A grown-up! His uniform was so bright and confident and yet humble, polite. She knew as soon as she saw him that he would know what to do, that he would be calm and help her without yelling or making her more scared than she already was. For Marilyn’s illness terrified her. She had no idea of what should be done and Marilyn was no use at all, one minute sobbing at the pain, begging for anything to stop it, the next forbidding Ursula to call for help. When they heard the sailor knock, Marilyn twined her hand deep into Ursula’s tangled hair, close to the skull. “No,” she’d begged, “don’t let them take me.” Ursula had left a handful of hair and a tiny rag of scalp in Marilyn’s hand in order to get to the door. It didn’t matter. By then she would have done anything, left anything. And then it happened and after that the sailor asked her if she was hungry. She nodded yes and he had taken her hand and walked her down Neptune Avenue to Ocean Beach Park, and they had ascended the stairs to this place she knew so well but had never entered. Ursula knew she owed a debt to this young man and she felt guilty for doubting him. Because calling the ambulance, maybe that had been a mistake. Once you call the ambulance they’ve got you. That’s what Marilyn said. Ursula wished she could remember exactly how it had happened, what it had looked like when the men came and they’d taken Marilyn out on a stretcher down all three flights of stairs. If only she could make a picture in her head, she could look at it again and maybe see that everything was all right. But all she could see was the sailor’s uniform and the flowers. What had become of the flowers? Now he sat stonily, staring out to sea over the terrace balustrade. The waitress came out with another Schlitz and set it next to his first, which was less than half empty—Ursula could see the level of the beer just above the label of the brown glass bottle. It was plain to her that the sailor regretted that he’d offered to feed her. But what else could he do? She was only a kid. I should have turned him down flat, Ursula realized. If he starts to feel stuck with me he’ll palm me off. And that’ll mean…what? Cops or something. Was it already too late? Did he feel overburdened? He’d bought her a hotdog and a Coke. Had she asked for too much? “Well, I think I’ll be running along now,” she said, watching his face. She hoped he’d insist that she remain with him, the way men always persuaded Marilyn that she should stay for just a few more minutes, just one more drink. The sailor immediately perked up, taking a healthy swig from the bottle. She thought he looked very reliable. He was a thick-necked, red-headed man, green-eyed and freckled. She hoped he wouldn’t turn out too dependable, the kind of man who couldn’t leave things alone until he knew how they ended up. Miss Feirstein at school was like that, always asking Ursula if there was anything she’d like to talk about and if she’d had breakfast that morning. Adults could be sneaky sometimes, pretending to be your friend when all they wanted was to snoop. “You got any aunts? You know, cousins, anything?” He looked distinctly hopeful. Ursula tensed. How should she answer this? A lie. But not altogether—her mother had family living around here someplace. They just never spoke, was all. “Sure,” she said, shrugging easily. “I’ve got two aunts. Catherine and Regina.” “Maybe you should call them. Tell them your ma’s sick and you better come over. Huh?” “I will. When I get home.” She must have looked nervous because the seaman suddenly leaned across the table. “If you want I’ll call them for you.” “No, it’s okay. I will. I’ll call them later. It’s just that they both work and I don’t know the numbers. But I can call them at suppertime. They’ll be home pretty soon. I can wait a couple of hours by myself.” The sailor nodded and resumed his surveillance of the ocean, drinking his beer. Ursula knew what she had to do; she had to get up and walk away. So why couldn’t she bring herself to leave him? She took a deep breath, then made herself speak quickly, without thinking. “So I’ll go then?” “Yeah, you better get home. S’long as you got somebody.” Oh, why’d he have to bring that up now? She began to cry once more, and just when she thought she had everything under control. The sailor stood up and then immediately sat down, flushing with embarrassment. He ducked his head, but Ursula saw him glancing about furtively, probably hoping to find a policeman or a social worker or even the waitress—anyone who would take her off his hands. Ursula jammed a paper napkin between her teeth and bit down. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m okay now.” But her voice sounded anything but okay. The sailor slid the full bottle of beer across the table to her. “Go on,” he said. “Take a slug. It’ll calm you down.” She nearly gagged on the bitter taste, but she’d acted like a baby enough for one afternoon. She controlled the shuddering and took another long draw. “Hey hey, take it easy there. I could get in trouble for this, you know.” He looked over his shoulder, but they were alone on the terrace except for a pair of dingy seagulls. Ursula handed the bottle across the table, but he motioned it back to her. “You keep it,” he said. “Just don’t let anybody catch you drinking it, all right? God knows what the Navy can do to me if you get drunk.” “I won’t get drunk,” Ursula said. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she suspected that she already was. A dangerous relaxation was spreading through her. She ought to put down that bottle and get out of there before she started feeling too comfortable and told the sailor something she shouldn’t. I’m scared. I’m all alone. I need someone to help me. I’m not even sure of my relatives’ name: Adams-czyk? Adams-cewicz? Mister, you can’t leave me. My mother’s in the hospital and I don’t even know our real last name. Stop that, she told herself sternly. Her mother would have a fit if she ruined things now. Wasn’t Marilyn always telling her to be careful? You get in any trouble, and I mean the littlest teeny bit of trouble, and the city will be at our door, calling me an unfit mother. And watch who you’re talking to at that junior high. People can be very nosy. You know what I mean. Ursula knew. But the sailor was all she had. I’ll just sit here a little longer, she decided. I won’t say anything at all. He won’t mind that; just a few more minutes. She took some more beer, surprised by how much lighter the bottle felt in her hand. “Your aunts will be home soon, huh?” Ursula nodded. “I guess you’ll be okay then.” The sailor tipped back the rest of the beer in his bottle, and then took the half-bottle away from Ursula and finished that as well. He smiled at her apologetically. He won’t leave, Ursula promised herself. He’s going to stay, or he’ll take me with him. He won’t leave me here. She sat nodding and nodding. She knew she was nodding, but she couldn’t stop herself. The sailor stood up to go. He took out his wallet and put a bill down on the table to pay for the beers, the hot dog, the Coke. Ursula still sat, rocking in mute agreement. “Okay, kid. You get yourself home and call your aunties. Don’t worry, your ma’ll be all right.” With a great effort of will, Ursula managed to stop bobbing her head. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. The sailor took a dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to her. This is it, she realized. He’s going to go off and leave me and the buck’s to make it okay. She shouldn’t have had that beer. She was feeling heavy, unable to think. What if she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed her heart out? What if she simply refused to be left? The sailor was watching her, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting to see if she would take this quietly. Cry, she told herself. Cry so he’ll try to make you stop. But what was the use; she knew what would happen in the end. The social workers would come and she’d never see Marilyn again. “All right,” she said, in a very small voice. The sailor’s nervous shifting turned instantly to happy anticipation; he rose up on the balls of his feet and swayed. You jerk, Ursula thought. But through the pain of his betrayal she felt a steely sureness form. It clamped over her skull like two strong hands and she knew now that she would keep her head, those hands were keeping it for her. Her vision became clear and defined as she looked at the dollar bill and made the proper connection, at last realizing the correct response. She knew exactly what her mother would want her to do. “I’ll be needing more than this,” Ursula said. excerpt chapter one.docx

FIRST ASSIGNMENT: Story statement After her mother dies, twelve-year-old Ursula must make a home for herself with the grandparents who unwittingly colluded with the Catholic Church in shielding the priest who fathered her and rebuild a family devastated by betrayal and guilt. SECOND ASSIGNMENT: The antagonist Michael Jaworski thinks he knows himself. A former Jesuit priest, he uses theology and years of therapy to examine his past, and yet he has never recognized what lurks within him. He has accepted his therapist’s counsel that his relationship with Mary Frances (Ursula’s mother) was human intimacy, but in his heart he still clings to the belief that they shared a profound, even sublime, connection. When he learns of Mary Frances’ death, he is torn between claiming his daughter and continuing to protect the reputation of the Catholic Church, for although he has left the priesthood, he remains convinced that his purpose in life is to serve God—but what, exactly, does God want from him? Spurred on by his fiancée, he becomes increasingly convinced that the answer to that question lies in Ursula. In his pursuit of child custody, he learns about Mary Frances’ life as a single mother and is appalled by many of her choices, including changing her name to Marilyn Adams. His conception of Mary Frances as a spiritual being is dashed; she is now an evil seductress named Marilyn. Only a confrontation with Ursula herself can make him finally see what really happened and who he truly is. THIRD ASSIGNMENT: Title suggestions Ursula Adams After Marilyn The Fierce Girl FOURTH ASSIGNMENT: Comparables Genre—literary fiction/upmarket book club fiction 1) Foster by Claire Keegan (2022). (Similar theme—a girl sent to live with relatives by her inadequate parents learns love and loyalty and helps to heal the wounds of the past.) 2) Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (2022) (Similar theme, elements of humor--a child of single mother relies on his intelligence and sense of humor to navigate through circumstances beyond his control) FIFTH ASSIGNMENT: Hook Line Twelve-year-old Ursula wants nothing to do with her father, a Catholic priest who raped her mother, and she’s not too sure about her mother’s family, who never believed him guilty. But when her mother dies and her father leaves the priesthood and seeks custody, the family is forced to face the truth, and Ursula must decide where her loyalty lies. SIXTH ASSIGNMENT: Inner and Secondary Conflicts Inner conflict: When Ursula’s father inserts himself into her life, she is terrified…and intrigued, flattered and, in a way, validated, because the father who has denied her existence suddenly wants to claim her. A small part of her is gratified by his attention, despite everything she knows about him. She feels guilty for her reaction not only because she knows she should not welcome his attention, but also because it is a betrayal of her mother. Scene in which this plays out: (This conflict plays out multiple times in the course of the novel. The scene sketched below is actually in the novel; I was uncertain about the “hypothetical” requirement.) Ursula desperately wants her maternal grandparents to win the custody suit; she fears her father and knows that he conceals a violent streak. When the judge decides that her grandparents will be legal and custodial guardians, and her father will have supervised visitation rights, Ursula is relieved, but she watches her father for his reaction. She can’t read him, and that bothers her. How he feels about her is desperately important, but she wishes it wasn’t. Secondary conflict involving social environment: Ursula’s secondary conflict is with the Catholic church and its role in her family. Ursula has to decide whether or not to accept the sacrament of confirmation. She had intended to be confirmed to please her devout grandparents even though she doesn’t believe in God. But after her father asserts his paternity, her grandparents’ confidence in the church is shaken. Complicating the matter is the Catholic tradition of having the bishop perform the confirmation—the same bishop who failed them when they turned to him for help. In their ambivalence, her grandparents tell Ursula that confirmation is no longer a “given” but a decision that Ursula must make on her own. Ursula’s main concern is still to please her grandparents, but now she is unsure which choice is the right one. Scene in which this plays out: (Again, this is actually a scene in the novel; in fact; it’s the conclusion.) After one of her aunts confesses that she doesn’t believe in Catholic doctrine but still firmly identifies as Catholic, Ursula considers that Catholicism is more than a religion, it’s an institution that binds her family together almost as much as genetics. She decides that, for her, confirmation is not about joining the church but accepting the full mantle of family membership. She sees it as a rite that encompasses the elements of family that go beyond the legal definition covered by adoption. However, although she is happy to accept her Catholic identity, she cannot accept the church’s authority. So, at the moment in the ritual when the bishop shakes her hand and says, “Peace be with you,” she responds not with, “And also with you,” but, “Back at ya, Jack.” Then, to make sure he gets the point, she gives him a big, slow wink before turning, victorious, to her family. SEVENTH ASSIGNMENT: Setting The setting is a working-class, Catholic community in southeastern Connecticut, and the time period in which the action takes place—the late 1950s to the early 1970s—is especially critical. Ursula’s mother, then called Mary Frances, is a sheltered, 14-year-old Catholic schoolgirl when the principal of her school, a Catholic priest, begins grooming her for a sexual relationship in 1956. When she becomes pregnant and gives birth in 1959, the unquestioned authority of the Catholic church and the societal tendency to blame the victims of rape combine to shield the priest and cast shame on Mary Frances. She is sent to a home for wayward girls where she is renamed Marilyn (giving the residents of these institutions an assumed name was common practice at the time) and subjected to intense pressure to give the baby up for adoption, another common practice. In this case the pressure is intensified as the bishop would like to have the “evidence” safely hidden, but newly-minted Marilyn does not succumb. Ursula is born into and grows up in an atmosphere where shame, secrecy and defiance all coexist. Marilyn dies in 1971 and Ursula is placed with her maternal grandparents by the foster care system. Her sudden reappearance forces the family to look at decisions made in the 1950s in the glare of post-1960s, post-Vatican II liberalism. They feel their own justifications wearing thin, but they are still unwilling to believe that a priest fathered Ursula until he actually claims paternity and sues for custody. Now they must do battle. More liberal attitudes toward divorce means that more fathers are being granted custody of their children, but it is a still decades before victims of sexual assault will be treated with respect, or it is possible to imagine accusing a Catholic priest of rape. . The novel is a deep dive into the not-so-distant past, when Roe vs. Wade, #metoo and the Spotlight investigation didn’t inform the zeitgeist. It’s also a painful reminder of how women’s lives have been—and continue to be—shaped, and sometimes warped, by attitudes toward sex. Although some women are crushed, more find ways to persist and thrive.