Chapter 6- girl talk

Conversation, not unlike sips of coffee, becomes a habit and can lead to other things. Every word we exchange with somebody else makes us less of a stranger to them, so it's important to watch what we say, but more importantly, to watch what we don't.




Miss medda larkson, the Swedish meadowlark, friend and ally to the manhattan newsies, watched cynthia bluecloud pace in and out of the dressing room through her mirror. Strange young woman, that Cynthia. In a time when ladies were expected to act like ladies, it was an understatement that Cynthia seemed to be born before her time,. Medda was trying to recall a word to describe the lady guitarist, (that is, if you could call her a lady)…it was bohemian. A wild child, medda decided. A free spirit. A very talented free spirit, she thought, adjusting the oins in her bouffant. Cynthia bluecloud was an acquired taste. Half the time medda couldn't really understand what Cynthia was singing about and she was sort of…odd; but still, she packed quite an audience and medda was happy with that.

"lose anything, darling?" medda asked Cynthia, who continued to pace around, as if looking for something, or trying to remember if she HAD lost something.

Cynthia, for the first time became aware of medda's presence. "oh!" she cried, stopping her pacing. She ran a hand through her long black hair. "just thinking, " she said, smiling wanly.

"anything I can help you with?" medda offered.

Quickly, Cynthia pulled up a chair and straddled it, facing medda. "actually," she began, her face flushed. "I do need…some advice."

Medda, startled by cynthia's sudden movement and by the way she sat on the chair, was unable to speak for a few moments. Blinking, she collected herself. "what's on your mind, dear?"

Cynthia stared at medda. Medda, puzzled by the way she was being scrutinized by the young woman sitting in front of her, shifted in her own seat and cleared her throat. Whatever could she be thinking?

"well, cynthia began. "I suppose you could say I've been…battling with my conscience lately."

Battling with my conscience? Medda thought, and hoped not out loud. Oh dear…this sounds like we'll be here for a long time. Medda didn't know what to say, so she simply smiled in encouragement.

Medda, while without a husband and children had often proven herself somewhat of a mother-type to her younger newsies acquaintances. Oh, all right, so maybe a few of those acquaintances haven't been quite so motherly, but juts the same, when somebody needed comfort, she was there. Why should this time be any different?

"have you…" and here Cynthia paused, as if choosing her words. "have you ever been in a situation when…something feels so good and so right…but somehow it's wrong… and…and it makes you feel bad?"

once again, medda blinked back her surprise. "oh," she said, her hand flying to her chest. "um…" goodness, she thought. Have I bitten up more than I could chew? Medda's silence prompted Cynthia to say more.

"something that makes you fell alive and wonderful, but at the same time, confused and scared?" she went on.

Medda listened and watched as Cynthia confided in her through riddles. Then, clarity struck medda like a flash, and almost made her cry out with realization. The fidgety actions, the distraction, the unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. Why! medda positively knew what the matter was. "Cynthia bluecloud, you're in love!" she stated gleefully.

Cynthia blushed and said nothing. Medda reached for her hand. "that's wonderful!" she said. " wonderful news! Who with?" then, remembering her manners, "oh, forgive me! I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me."

"but that's the part I need advice on," Cynthia said. "I may be…in love…" the words rolled off her tongue like she wasn't used to it. "but-"

"he doesn't feel the same way?" medda guessed. "oh, honey…"

"no, that ain't it," Cynthia said. "no, I'm quite sure he feels the same…"

"but he's married?" medda guessed again. "oh, sweetie…"

"no!" Cynthia said, her hand flying to her mouth.

"well for goodness sake Cynthia, out with it already!" medda cried in impateinece, though not unkindly.

"he's younger than I am," Cynthia blurted out. "much younger."

Medda gave her an understanding smile. "oh, sweetheart," she said sympathetically. I may be able to help her out after all!

"he may be younger, but he's mature for his age," Cynthia explained. "he's very smart." Medda nodded. While she could never really say she'd been in love with a younger man, she HAD consorted with a few in ways that were far less than kosher. "but he's…he's a boy!" Cynthia said, shaking her head. "no matter which way I look at it, david is still a boy!"

medda's face froze. "david?" she said. "as in, david Jacobs?"

Cynthia nodded. ""what do I do?" she wailed.

"david Jacobs?" she said again. "our david? David the newsie?" talk about confused.

"david? Strike leader david?"

"yes, medda, yes!" Cynthia grabbed onto medda's skirt. "am I evil?"

medda shot up from her seat. Now it was HER turn to pace around.