From the Improvement Era, January 1955 –

Mothers Are So Helpless

By Mary Ek Knowles

Clare Hopkins reached the stadium just as the game ended. She stood by the bleachers near the gate, sorry she had missed seeing her son’s first big football game.

She tried to pick Hoppy out of the crowd of players and students that swarmed onto the field, but the players all looked alike in their football gear. And then one of the tall, top-heavy figures in red and black took off his helmet, and Clare saw the red hair. There he was! She saw the dark-haired girl in the scarlet coat holding to Hoppy’s arm, and her heart gave a surprised lurch. Hoppy grown up enough to have a girl really interested in him!

They were almost even with her now. Clare cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Hi, Hoppy!”

Hoppy turned, “Hello, Mom.” He flashed her a quick, boyish grin, and all of a sudden he looked so much like his father that loneliness ached through her. If only Tom had lived.

Hoppy took hold of the girl’s hand and brought her over and Clare could almost hear Tom’s joking voice, “Give the kid credit. He can sure pick ’em.”

Clare saw the way Hoppy looked down at the girl and knew he was in love with her. So what. He’s almost seventeen. It’s nothing to worry about, that first girl.

Then Clare saw the possessive way the girl was clinging to his arm and wasn’t so sure.

Hoppy said, “Mom, this is Audrey Traintor.”

There was something unpleasantly familiar about that name, but Clare couldn’t remember what.

“I’m so thrilled to meet you, Mrs. Hopkins.” Audrey spoke in a quick, breathless way.

“It’s nice meeting you, Audrey.”

“Did you see the game, Mom?”

“No, I was too late, Son.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hopkins,” Audrey cried. “We won! Twenty-one to fourteen and Hoppy was the whole team. I mean he really was. He was simply terrific! He made all three touchdowns. Isn’t he marvelous? Aren’t you just thrilled to have a son like him!” She looked up at Hoppy and sighed.

“Cut it, Audrey!” Hoppy’s large ears reddened, but Clare could tell he was flattered. She tried to shake off her feeling of dislike for the girl. All teenagers exaggerated that way. But that feeling of just too much persisted.

“I’m sorry I missed seeing him play. Maybe next game — are you coming soon, Hoppy?”

“As soon as I take Audrey home.”

Audrey said, “It’s been just terribly wonderful meeting you, Mrs. Hopkins. I mean Hoppy’s so lucky to have such a beautiful mother, and you look so young. I mean more like Hoppy’s sister!”‘

She wanted to say sharply, “Now really, that’s laying it on a bit thick!” But Hoppy looked so pleased that she said carefully, “It’s sweet of you to say that, Audrey.”

When Clare reached home, Mrs. Rumley, who came in to work by the day, had left, but dinner was baking in the oven. There was a note in Mrs. Rumley’s eccentric script proclaiming direly, “Them girls of yours ain’t done their piano practice.”

Clare groaned. What price musical education! She called the girls, and they came racing up the steps — Marilyn, a plump eight-year-old with brown pigtails, Betty, twelve and blond.

“You girls are to get to your practising immediately!”

“We can’t both practise at once!” Betty informed her.

“Then Marilyn will practise while you do your homework, young lady.”

“Aren’t we going to eat?” Betty protested. “Where’s Hoppy?”

“We’ll eat in half an hour. Hoppy is taking Audrey Traintor home.”

Betty put her hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me Hoppy’s melonhead enough to date her after the way she
treated him!”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the Harvest Ball last year and — ”

“You are not to say one word about Audrey to Hoppy, Betty. Understand?” Clare said sharply. How could she have forgotten Audrey Traintor! Clare said more gently, “That blue sweater is so pretty on you, dear. Do your homework now, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

Clare seethed inside as she set the table. No wonder Audrey’s name had sounded a bell off key. Clare remembered the night of the big dance last October. A gardenia corsage in the icebox, and Hoppy still damp from his shower, at the telephone talking to Audrey.

“What time shall I stop by for — ” A tense pause. “You’re going with Sprint Davis! But you promised me — oh — ” a very long pause. “Sure — well, how about a date next Saturday, then? Oh, well — ” Clare could tell from the look on Hoppy’s face that Audrey had hung up on him.

“Guess she got her dates mixed,” he’d said.

“She could have told you before this!”

Hoppy’s face looked slack. “It’s too involved to explain. Looks like Sprint Davis has the inside track with her.”

Now, taking the wrapping off the butter, Clare thought angrily, Audrey couldn’t even be polite to Hoppy last year. Why the sudden interest now? She thought apprehensively, a boy’s first love is nothing to worry about if it’s with the right girl, but the wrong girl —

Clare and the girls had eaten before Hoppy came in the back door whistling. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, Son.”

He came to stand near her, hands thrust in the back pockets of his jeans, trouser legs rolled up so that his feet looked huge in their thick-soled brogans. “Don’t you think Audrey’s swell, Mom? Isn’t she gorgeous? Look at the picture she gave me.” It was a tinted photograph small enough to be carried in a wallet, inscribed, “To Hoppy with all my love — Audrey.”

Clare read the inscription, and her throat tightened. “She is quite the most gorgeous gal I’ve seen in a long time,” she agreed. “But you’ll par- don me if I’m a bit confused. Wasn’t it Audrey who gave you a raw deal on the Harvest Ball last year?”

“Audrey explained about that,” Hoppy defended quickly. “You see, she’d promised Sprint in September, and then she forgot and promised me. Naturally when Sprint reminded her that he had first bid she had to go with him. That’s the kind of a swell girl she is. She felt terrible about disappointing me.”

Clare remembered the way Audrey had hung up. “What about this Sprint Davis?” she asked as she took Hoppy’s dinner from the warming oven and placed it on the table. “Is he out of the picture?”

“Sprint? Oh, he quit school last spring and joined the navy.”

“Was that because Audrey threw him over?”

“Gosh, no, Mom!” Hoppy said indignantly. “She and Sprint were just good friends. But Audrey’s promised to go steady with me,” he said softly.

“Oh, no, Hoppy!” Clare said. “You’re much too young to go steady with — with anyone.”

Hoppy moved away. “I’m not too young!” he said stiffly. “I’ll be eighteen next year.”

A feeling of helplessness came over her. She had always been able to reason with Hoppy. But now he was antagonistic, ready to rise to Audrey’s defense on the slightest criticism. Clare knew she would have to tread lightly.

She wanted to ask more, to try and find out when Audrey had first begun to show this new interest in Hoppy, but Marilyn and Betty came in arguing over a pair of roller skates, and by the time that was settled, Hoppy had gone to his room to study.

Later Clare went in to tell him good night, but he had fallen asleep with the light on. He looked young and overgrown, lying there with his bony bare feet sticking out of his pajama legs. Clare walked over to turn the light off and saw that the small wooden chest on top of his dresser was open. This was Hoppy’s treasure box where he kept his most cherished possessions. Things like the silver medal he had won for high diving, his father’s gold watch, a snapshot of the whole family taken at the lake the summer before Tom died.

Had Hoppy stood there earlier, looking at his father’s picture, saying, “What d’you know, Dad, I’ve got a steady girl!”

She saw Hoppy smile in his sleep. She wished he were still ten years old — a nice safe ten.

Clare came home from working the next night to a houseful of young people stomping to the shrill rhythm of hot jazz.

“They raided the icebox,” Mrs. Rumley greeted her mournfully. Mrs. Rumley was tall and given to asthma.

“They usually do,” Clare told her. She walked into the living room. “Hello, kids,” she cried.

“Hi, Mrs. Hopkins!” they called.

She saw Audrey and Hoppy standing by the window. Audrey looked sleek and beautiful and sulky. Hoppy looked worried. Clare went in the kitchen and shut the door. Mrs. Rumley was ready to leave; “They’ll tear the house down,” she predicted darkly.

“They’ll suddenly all remember they have homes of their own and leave.”

Clare was working on the budget when abruptly the music and noise ceased. A few minutes later Hoppy came in the kitchen and stood by the desk, hands hooked in his back pockets, thoughtfully silent.

“The gang gone?” Clare asked to break the silence.

“Yes. Audrey rode home with Chuck Roberts.”

“Chuck goes right past her house, doesn’t he?”

“Mom,” Hoppy asked suddenly, “couldn’t we buy a car?”

Clare looked at the stack of unpaid bills, and the idea was so fantastic she almost laughed. And then she saw the eager look on Hoppy’s young face. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question right now.”

“But gosh, Mom. There’s the Harvest Ball and the Holly Hop coming up. A guy can’t exactly take a girl like Audrey to them on a bus!”

No, Clare thought wryly. An Audrey must arrive in style!

“And I almost gotta have a tux.”

“Not for high school dances, you don’t, dear.”

“Audrey wants to go to the Starlight Gardens some Saturday night.” He pulled at the lobe of his ear. “I’m going to get a job after school as soon as the football season is over. Costs money to date a swell girl like Audrey. She’s used to going to ritzy places like the Varsity Inn.”

So that was why Audrey looked so sulky. A jam session at her boy friend’s house was too juvenile. Why couldn’t Hoppy see what a heartless little gold digger she was! But when you Were seventeen and in love, you just didn’t reason things out sensibly.

“I’m afraid Audrey will have to go on a bus, dear. Or maybe you can arrange to go with Chuck or someone.” It was difficult to keep her voice light. She gestured towards the bills. “Marilyn has to have a snowsuit, Betty must have braces put on her teeth. Taxes on the house will be due next month. A car! Maybe next year — ” She laid a hand on Hoppy’s arm. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure, Mom,” he said, but his grin was on the sickly side.

“The girls and I arc planning to see West play Holgate next Saturday. Will you like that?”

“You bet, Mom.” But she could tell he was worried how he would explain to Audrey why he couldn’t promote a car.

Saturday Clare and the two girls sat in the stands in the crisp fall air, and Clare’s heart beat fast again to the excitement of school yells and band music. Faster!- That was her son making those brilliant plays. In the last moments of the game she rose and shouted, “Come on, Hoppy! Touchdown!” She grabbed Marilyn and hugged her. “He made it!”

The shot ending the game rang out. Marilyn and Betty grabbed Clare’s hands and ran down the stadium steps towards Hoppy. But Audrey beat them. She stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around Hoppy’s neck. Before the hundreds of people she kissed him.

Clare stood quite still, exhilaration giving way to fury, because she had seen Audrey first glance around to make sure of the crowd and the newspaper photographers. Oh, Audrey was quite aware of the romantic picture they made, the small girl with the glossy black hair in the arms of the tall, grimy-faced hero! If Clare had ever had any doubts as to Audrey’s insincerity, they vanished now.

Clare saw the look on Hoppy’s face as he was carried away on the shoulders of his classmates. It was such a blind look of complete happiness that it frightened her. Fame at best was a fickle thing. High school fans were rabid little savages, and this same cheering crowd would desert Hoppy at the first sign of failure. She saw Hoppy look back and wave at Audrey. He was in for heartbreak on each count, and she must somehow warn him before it was too late!

“We’ll see Hoppy later,” Clare told the girls. “Let’s get the bus.” As they boarded the bus, three girls pressed close to Clare. Their high-pitched chatter invaded Clare’s troubled thoughts.

“Wasn’t Hoppy marvelous!”

“Audrey Traintor certainly thinks so! Did you get a load of the big love scene!”

“Oh, that was just an act because Hoppy’s a football hero! Look at the way she fell all over Sprint Davis last year and then fluffed him off when the season ended. I mean cut him cold so that he ran away and joined the navy. And Sprint is smooth. Hoppy is just a big-eared goon without his football suit. You just watch — just as soon as the season is over, Audrey’ll drop him so fast it’ll make his head swim!”

So that was why Audrey was giving Hoppy such a rush! Sprint Davis had been the big hero last year. She should have seen the pattern. But Hoppy wasn’t going to be hurt if she could help it!

Marilyn and Betty met Hoppy at the door. “Gosh, you were good, Hoppy! You won the game with your touchdowns!”

“Nuts, kids,” Hoppy said. “If it hadn’t been for the rest of the team we’d have lost. Did you see the way Ted Beams threw that lateral? And the way Chuck ran interference? It’s a lot of hooey making such a fuss over a guy just because he happens to be the one who carries the ball over the goal!”

“I’ll say amen to that!” Clare was struggling to maintain a light tone. She gave the girls money. “A malt for each of you.” After they had gone, Clare turned to Hoppy. “We know you weren’t the whole team, Son. But it was you everyone was making the fuss over. It’s enough to turn anyone’s head, but — ”

“Did you see Audrey, Mom?” Hoppy asked softly.

“How could I possibly miss that well -planned little scene?” The blunt words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Hoppy couldn’t have looked more stricken if she had slapped him. “You say that as if Audrey didn’t mean it, Mom.”

“She didn’t mean it!”

“Look, Mom,” he said slowly, as if he had thought the whole thing out carefully. “Even if sometimes I’ve wondered if she was giving me a line, I don’t any more. She wouldn’t have kissed me before all those people if she hadn’t meant it.”

“She kissed you to attract attention to herself! There are some people who love to bask in the reflection of someone else’s glory. Can’t you see that Audrey is like that!” She told him what the girls on the bus had said, sparing him nothing, knowing she was hurting him, but thinking, he’s got to know! But as soon as the words were out, she knew she had been too blunt. Hoppy’s face was white with anger. He’s more in love with Audrey than I thought, Clare thought desperately.

“They were jealous of Audrey!” he cried. “And you’ve no right to say such things about my girl!”

He was almost shouting at her. Clare knew then, mothers are absolutely helpless! You can see your children walking into something that’s going to hurt them, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them, because they won’t listen and they can’t see the truth. She thought, if we quarrel, Hoppy is lost to me. She forced a laugh. “The girls are jealous, and so am I. A possessive Mom. Forgive me?”

Hoppy took her clumsily in his arms. “Sure, Mom. But gosh, don’t say things like that again. I’m so nuts about Audrey that if she didn’t love me, I’d want to drop dead.”

“Don’t talk like that, Son!” Clare held him tight. She thought back over the years since Hoppy was born.

The following Thursday was the East-West game, the most important game of the year. “You’ve just gotta come to this game today,” Hoppy told her that morning. He was standing before the bathroom mirror, engaged in the daily battle with his unruly red hair.

“I’m going to ask for the afternoon off.”

“Swell! Gosh, big game and Audrey’s costume party tonight.” Clare watched him try out his widest grin in the mirror, and her heart pounded.

When Clare reached the office she found that the new girl was home with the flu. No chance of getting off now. She called the newspaper several times that day. East was ahead in the first quarter 14-0, and it had begun to rain. The field would be a sea of mud. East had scored another touchdown at the half!

When she had time to call again the game was over. West had lost to East 41-7!

Clare hurried home, tension pulling her nerves taut. Betty met her at the door. “Hoppy’s been hurt!” she said bluntly. Clare’s legs went rubbery.

“Ah, don’t scare Mom like that, Betty. It’s only my finger.” Hoppy spoke from the semi-darkness of the living room.

Clare turned on the lamp with a hand that trembled. Hoppy grinned at her, but he looked pale and sick. She saw that his middle finger was in a splint. “Hoppy!”

“Just broke my finger, that’s all.”

Clare knew that was enough to put him out of the game for the rest of the season. This was it, then. Audrey would be through with Hoppy. “Does it hurt, Son?”

“Not half as much as losing the game. 41-7!” he groaned.

“It was a muddy field, Hoppy.” “A muddy field didn’t bother East. It was my fault. Honest, Mom, I don’t know what went wrong. I played lousy ball. I missed passes. Those I did catch, I fumbled. Twice I lost the ball to East. That’s how they got their touchdowns. If Ted Beams hadn’t made that touchdown, we wouldn’t have had any score. I don’t blame the crowd for boo — ” he stopped.

So the crowd had booed him! And Audrey? What had she done?

Hoppy stood up. “Guess I’d better get a move on if I’m going to be ready for the party on time. Where’s Dad’s old clown suit?”

“What for?” she asked.

“To wear to the party, of course. I asked Audrey what I should wear just before the coach drove me to the hospital. I think she’s got a Harlequin costume, and we’ll go as a couple.”

Suddenly Clare knew that wasn’t the way it was at all. She could see Hoppy disgracing himself on the football field and the crowd booing him, and Audrey embarrassed and angry. She could hear Audrey calling, “Wear a clown suit!” And Hoppy in his deaf adoration missing the sarcastic tone that meant, “You act like a clown. Might as well look like one!”

“You’re going to the party then, Hoppy?”

“Do you think I should?” he said hesitantly.

Clare wanted to say, “Don’t go, Son! You’ll be hurt and disillusioned.” But that was no good. This was the first big crisis in Hoppy’s life. He mustn’t run away from it.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I think you should go, Hoppy.”

She watched Hoppy drive away in the car with Chuck, and she stood by the door and cried quietly. She was in her room upstairs and it was only a little after ten when she heard the downstairs door open. She hurried to the top of the stairs then drew quickly back into the shadows. Hoppy was standing by the door, and he looked very tired, as if he had walked a long way. She saw him look around, his mouth held tight until he was sure he was quite alone, and then he slumped against the door and began to cry.

It was all she could do to keep from going to him. But she knew she mustn’t even let him know she saw him.

Next morning she paused outside Hoppy’s door. Would he still be here? Sprint had run away when Audrey jilted him. She slowly opened the door and went almost weak with relief. Hoppy was lying face down on the bed, his hands above his head. She said brightly, “Darling, maybe if you hurry you can ride to school with Mr. Haslet next door.”

Hoppy did not answer. He might have been dead he lay so still. Clare held tight to the bed. “You know what!” she said gaily, “I’ve figured out how we can buy a new car right away.” She thought, I’ll mortgage the house. Betty can go without braces on her teeth for another year. I’ll make Marilyn’s snowsuit do. I’ll let Mrs. Rumley go. Anything to make Hoppy happy!

Hoppy turned over suddenly and laughed. “Oh Mom! Forget about the car. I was nuts to even suggest it. The gals are young, let ’em walk!” He jumped out of bed and towered over her. “You’re really smart, Mom. Can you ever spot a phony when you see one. I found out last night that Audrey was just taking me for a ride, the way she took Sprint. But me, I’m different from him. I don’t even care. She’s not going to break me up in business!”

He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than her, and tears stung Clare’s eyes. She blinked them back. “I hate to see you hurt, Son.”

“Oh, I was hurt all right,” he admitted. “Hurts a guy’s pride to find out a girl doesn’t want him any more. But I’m over that now. How’s about a stack of wheatcakes?”

Clare mixed a huge bowl of pancake batter. She could hear Hoppy upstairs singing so lustily that she thought, he is over Audrey. Just like that!

But later, after the children had gone and she was straightening Hoppy ‘s room she saw Audrey’s picture in the wooden chest. Next to his father’s gold watch and the silver medal he had won for high diving. Along with the other things he treasured.

For a moment the box blurred through Clare’s tears. Maybe he was so hurt he’d never get over Audrey! I should have done more to protect him, she thought. I’m a terrible flop as a mother!

She had a sudden picture of Hoppy at school. Walking alone now. The fallen hero with his tarnished crown, setting his chin as the crowd turned away from him, staring straight ahead as Audrey cut him cold.

Cruel, cruel, her heart wept. Yet he knew he was walking into that. And he still went. Her spirits gave a sudden surge of hope. Hoppy had not run away. In that moment she knew that the day-to-day teachings had been enough. Heartbreak wasn’t the important thing, but the way a person met it was. And Hoppy had met it head-on.

“Oh, he’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “I know that now.”