Free Five Women by Rona Jaffe

very good-looking man by anybody’s standards. That was confusing. Maybe they were incompatible. Her mother said it was because she had never loved him.
    â€œI think you have to be in love to have good sex,” Felicity said.
    â€œLove makes it better,” Jennifer said. “Everybody tells you that.”
    The idea of having sex purely for its own sake had never occurred to either of them as an option, and although they knew people did, they thought it was disgusting.
    They put on the new lip glosses they had bought at the drugstore and compared colors, and then decided to go upstairs to the kitchen to find a snack. It was Thursday, the day Jennifer’s mother went to the supermarket, so they knew there would be a lot of interesting things.
    They were on the landing when Jennifer’s father came down the stairs. Felicity had never seen him before and didn’t know why he was home from work. He was dark red and ugly, or perhaps that was just the look on his face. He had a baseball bat in his hand.
    â€œI knew you had that nigger in this house,” he said, furious. He raised the bat and Felicity’s stomach fell about seven floors. She actually felt the jolt. Her skin began to tingle as if it had a life of its own. “Get her out!”
    â€œDaddy,” Jennifer murmured weakly. She seemed, surprisingly, to be more embarrassed than afraid.
    â€œGet that nigger out of this house!” he said again, and he came striding toward Felicity, brandishing the bat, and she knew if she didn’t run he would hit her, so she ran out the front door and away.
    She ran all the way home, her heart pounding so hard she heard it in her ears like the wash of the ocean, too terrified to cry, too desperately miserable not to. She was gasping and gulping air, and she heard a high, keening sound she knew was her own voice.
No
 . . .
no
 . . .
    She had been taunted and left out at school and in the neighborhood, but that had been by white kids, and kids could be stupid and mean. She had never seen such hatred in a white adult this close before. The thought that grownups—her friends’ parents!—could despise her that much was terrifying. She felt tiny and vulnerable.
    Felicity knew that today was the end of all the good times with her new best friend. Jennifer would never be able to see her again, except at school. She would never have friends she loved and who loved her, never. She would always be alone. She hated that man for insulting her, for trying to hurt her, for treating her like a low, dirty thing that didn’t even have a right to exist. She hadn’t done anything. She was just a kid and he was a grown man.
    She ran to her own street, past the Bombagaster Office Supplies truck that was still there, into the refuge of her own house, and finally was able to breathe again. Her heart slowed down to its normal pace. It was earlier than the time she always came home, so of course Jake and her mother were still having their date.
    Felicity went into the kitchen, looking for them, but it was empty, the dirty dishes on the table. She looked into the living room, but they were not there either. Then she tried to go to the basement game room, but the door was locked.
    She stood there for a moment, chewing her fingernail, afraid to knock because she sensed that’s where they were. Then she heard the noises. A voice was moaning, a woman’s voice . . . her mother’s. The sound was not pain or fear, but something so open and vulnerable and primitive it was hard to believe it was her mother at all. She put her ear to the door.
Ah
 . . .
Ah
 . . . Then she heard the man’s voice; deeper, almost guttural, but just as lost.
Ah
 . . .
Ah
 . . . It was Jake. Suddenly she realized what the sounds were.
    She wished she didn’t have to hear her mother moaning like this, like some stranger. She was both repelled and