by Vanda
I turned my head toward Aggie who happily snored away. I wished I could tell her what happened, but I heard Juliana’s voice saying, “Don’t tell her.” Ever since Aggie and I had the first stirrings of hormones we’d been sharing stories with each other. Stories about bad little boys in the schoolyard and stories about cute boys in the church choir, but come to think of it most of those stories were Aggie’s. I listened, and she talked. It was easy to just be with Danny. Nothing ever to explain. But now, I needed to talk, and I needed her to listen, and I heard Juliana saying, “Don’t tell her.”
When I pushed myself up, every muscle in my body hurt. I slid from my bed and raised the curtain to look out the window. It had snowed during the night and there was a light dusting of white covering the little tree’s branches and the cement below.
I couldn’t believe I’d used that word that began with F . It didn’t even have anything to do with what Juliana and I did together; two girls can’t do that. I just needed a really bad word, and that was the one that came out.
I had to forget about Juliana. How silly to be so upset about a girl. I needed to meet some nice soldier—that’s what every girl wanted—and think about getting married. I had to grow up. Juliana wasn’t anything to me, and I wasn’t anything to her. Thinking those words felt like a knife slicing through my stomach .
I forced myself to dress. New Year’s Day, no work. I’d go walking in the snow. Somehow I’d get her out of me.
Just as I was about to leave, Aggie came out of the bedroom sleepy-eyed. “Hey, Al, what’s this dress?”
She held the dress Juliana had given me over her shoulder. I must’ve dropped it on the floor when I came home. “It’s a dress.”
“I can see that. It’s nicer quality than you usually get.” She rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve never seen you wear it. Do you think it’d fit me?” She held it up against her nightgown.
“No!” I tore it out of her hands.
“Well, gee, it couldn’t look that bad on me.”
I clutched it to me. “I’m smaller on top so it probably wouldn’t fit you.” I flopped onto the couch, hugging the dress to my chest and stroking the length of it as if it was Juliana. I sucked back my tears and felt the softness of it against my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you had breakfast yet? I could make you some eggs. Would you like that?”
“No. I’m going out.”
“Are you sure you should?”
I threw the dress on the floor. “I’m not nuts, Aggie.” But I had a feeling that if you had to announce it, you just might be. Nuts like my mother. I grabbed my coat and hat and charged out of the apartment.
It was cold and windy outside and starting to snow again. Snow crystals bit into my face as I tried to make my way down the street. Then, when I saw I was about to turn onto her block, I stopped. I can’t do this. I have to go back. I have to forget her. I turned and pushed back through the biting ice and snow. I would let Aggie make me breakfast.
When I got back into the apartment, Aggie was on the phone. “Just a minute. She just came in.” She put her hand over the receiver. For the briefest second, my heart fluttered, hoping it was her. “It’s for you,” she whispered. “A man. Eddie Silverstein.”
I shrugged my shoulders and headed toward the kitchen.
Aggie said into the phone, “Wait a minute, Eddie.” Then she ran after me. “He said he met you at the party last night.”
I put a slice of bread in the toaster. “Never heard of him.”
“I bet you had a fight with Norbert. Well the perfect cure for that is another man. Talk to Eddie.” She cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered, “I think he’s Jewish. Jewish men are good to their wives.”
“Aggie, don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of things. I don’t know him.”
“He really wants to talk to you. He sounds single. That’s better than Norbert. ”
“Who?”
“Your divorced man.”
“Oh, him. Okay. I’ll talk to him.”
As I walked to the telephone, Aggie said, “You and Norbert broke up last night. Didn’t ya?”
“Sure.” I spoke into the phone, “Eddie? No, I don’t remember …. Oh, Richard was supposed to introduce you, but …. Yeah, I left right after midnight. Oh, was that you who kissed me? Uh—Saturday?”
Aggie was jumping up and down. “Say yes, say yes.”
“Dinner and a movie. See you Saturday at eight.” I hung up and walked to the kitchen to get my toast.
“Well? Tell me about him?”
“I can’t. I don’t know him.”
“But he kissed you.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention. He said he’s a corporal in the Signal Corps. Stationed right in Astoria, Queens.”
“How convenient. That’s nice. Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Aggie.” The toast popped up.
“Give him a chance. He’s Jewish. They make good husbands.”
I threw the toast in the garbage. I immediately pulled it out again and dusted it off with my hand. I couldn’t be that dramatic with rationing.
Chapter Fifty-Three
January–February, 1944
Eddie was a nice enough guy, tall with serious eyebrows. He was a soldier, so he was always in uniform. All the soldiers were. That guaranteed you good seats in restaurants and a little off your bill plus a pair of free tickets to the movies.
Eddie had grown up in Brooklyn so being stationed in Astoria, Queens, was no big change for him. As a kid, he had taken lots of pictures of his neighborhood and one time he even won a magazine photography contest. At the Astoria Film Center where he was stationed, he was helping to make training films. He liked the work, but he was hoping to get sent out soon as a combat photographer.
Eddie had his own car, a two-door Nash that he picked me up in. Since he knew the area, we’d go into Brooklyn or Queens for dinner.
Two and half weeks after I knew Juliana must have left, I was out on my second date with Eddie. We drove to Brooklyn to see the film, A Guy Named Joe . Eddie whispered in my ear the whole time about how they made the film, but it didn’t bother me. All I could think about was Juliana.
We went out again the Saturday after that and the Saturday after that. It filled up the time, and it made Aggie happy.
“So, what happened?” Aggie asked me when I came in at ten from the date at the end of January. I could tell she’d been crying.
“The usual.” I sat on the couch beside her. “We had a nice supper in this diner Eddie likes in Brooklyn. Then we saw Old Acquaintance with Bette Davis. Good movie, but I wish I could’ve seen it with Miss Cowl. She did the stage version.”
“Didn’t he try anything? ”
“He gave me a perfectly sweet closed-mouth kiss when he dropped me off downstairs, if that’s what you mean.”
“Didn’t he try to do something with his hands?”
“He was a perfect gentleman.”
“What a bore. Doesn’t he know there’s a war on? He could get killed any minute.”
“In Queens?”
“You know what I mean. I think you need to encourage him. He’s probably shy.”
“I’m not like that, Aggie. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Don’t you think you could get him to do a little something ? I’m getting desperate.”
“Good night, Aggie.”
The next Saturday—it was the beginning of February—things started off pretty much the same. Eddie came to the door to pick me up, his army hat in his hand, he spoke politely to Aggie, and then we went to the same diner we usually went to in Brooklyn. It had snowed that week, so there were lumpy, gray mounds piled up along the streets.
After dinner, I thought we were headed for the movie theater to see Meet Me in Saint Louis , which I really wanted to see but instead we drove down these dark streets. But since all the streets wer
e pretty dark ’cause of the dimout, there wasn’t anything too much to be alarmed about.
“The turn for the theater is up there, Eddie. Where are we going?”
“Coney Island. I thought it’d be fun at night.”
“But it’s not open in February.”
“That’s okay.” He parked the car just outside the entrance. “You can still see the rides and the ocean. It’s pretty swell at night.”
The stores in the street were shut up tight, and there was only one street lamp lighting the area. That lamp had a cover over it to make it less bright so the street was pretty dark.
We got out of the car and walked through the entrance. All the concession stands were closed and there was hardly a person on the boardwalk. In the distance, I heard the pounding of the ocean against the frozen shore; a little ways up, I saw the outline of the Cyclone, the roller coaster Danny and I had ridden the first summer we came to New York. Most of it was hidden in shadows.
“See? Swell.” Eddie proclaimed.
“It’s spooky here. Let’s go to the movies.”
“I thought you might want to see the Cyclone when it’s not going around.”
“It’s freezing. I wanna go back to the car.”
We walked back to the car and Eddie opened the door for me like he always did. I slid inside. “Here. Put this blanket on your lap.” Eddie pulled a scratchy blanket from the backseat. “It’ll keep you warm until the heat comes up. ”
He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the car. “You know, Alice, I think about you all the time.” He slid closer to me.
Here it comes, I thought. I backed up toward the door.
He put his arm around my neck. I smiled weakly at him. “Eddie, I don’t think—”
“Are you feeling—hot?” he hissed at me.
“No. It’s cold in here.”
“But if I touched you in the right places, you could feel hot.” He blew in my ear and I laughed. I couldn’t help it; it tickled.
He moved his lips close to my face. I moved so flush with the door that the handle hurt my ribs. I thought he was going to kiss me or touch something I didn’t want him to touch, but instead he whispered in my ear, “Have you ever seen a circumcised penis?”
“What?” I squawked. I think I scared him ’cause he jumped away. “How many of those things do you think I’ve seen? That’s not a very nice thing to ask a girl.”
“I know you’re right, you’re right,” Eddie said, completely repentant. “It’s just that you were almost married, so I thought—”
“Well, don’t think things like that. Henry was a perfect gentleman at all times. We were waiting till we got married. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Of course, you’re not. I’m sorry.” He retreated back to the steering wheel and put his two hands on it but made no move to start the motor. He bowed his head like he was praying. I listened to the water slam against the shore somewhere in the dark.
“You wanna see it?” Eddie asked.
“See what?”
“My circumcised penis.”
“No. Why would I wanna do that?”
“Research. It’s different than most you’ll ever see. You could tell your girlfriends.”
“Take me home.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Look at it and then I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Take the dang thing out and put it on the dashboard.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I was being poetic. Let’s get this over with. I’m tired and I wanna go to bed.” He got this hopeful look on his face. “In my own bed. With only myself .”
“Oh.” He slowly unzipped himself. “I’m really sorry about this. I don’t wanna upset you.” He pulled it out of his pants and it stood up. “Do you think it’s ugly?” he asked.
“Well … kinda. Sorry.”
“No. That’s good. I like that you think it’s ugly. It is. Ugly and mean. And see, it doesn’t have a hat on. ”
At first I felt a little embarrassed with him sitting there like that, but then I began to see it more objectively. Like he said research. It did look different from Henry’s. That was interesting. Sort of.
“I like to think of it as my weapon. It’s dangerous, you know.”
“Could you put it away now?”
“Are you sure you don’t wanna touch it?”
“Very .”
“I’m sorry, Alice,” he said. “You seem like a really nice girl, but ….” He grabbed my hand and forced it onto his thing.
I tried to pull away. “Cut it out.”
“I gotta.” He pushed my hand up and down his thing.
I kept struggling to get away, but he had a strong grip on my hand, and it was starting to hurt. “It’ll be over soon,” he said, in between gasps for air. He was moving my hand faster and harder. Then for a second, he seemed to stop breathing. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and draped it over the end of his thing and caught the stuff that squirted out. Nausea rose in my stomach, and I thought sure I was gonna throw up all over him, which would’ve served him right, but I managed to keep it down.
He let go of my hand. I flexed it to get the feeling back. It was red with the impress of his thumb and sticky with that stuff. I took a handkerchief from my purse and wiped my hand, but no amount of wiping got it off.
I stared out the window. I couldn’t bear to look at him. “Take me home,” I said.
“Uh, sure, of course.” He started the motor.
We drove the whole way back without saying a word. He pulled the car next to the curb not far from my building. “I’m sorry, Alice,” he said and slid his hand over the car seat toward mine. I jerked my hand away.
“Don’t you touch me.” I pulled back on the door handle.
“Wait,” he said, jumping out of the car and running around to my side. I was already standing on the curb next to a snow bank. “I was gonna open the door. That’s the man’s job.”
“Do you see any men here?” I walked toward the apartment.
As I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I heard him yelling, “Is it okay if I call you next week? You’ll feel better by then, won’t you?”
Aggie kept asking me why I wouldn’t take Eddie’s calls, but how do you explain a thing like that?
Chapter Fifty-Four
March, 1944
On my way to meet Virginia at Walgreen’s, I stopped in front of the Claridge Hotel to look at the Camel man. He’d been an airman with cap and goggles for the past year, blowing smoke rings into the sky; now, he was sailor. I imagined that the following year he’d be a marine, and the year after that, he’d be a coast guard man and the year after that …?
Walgreens’s soda fountain was crowded as usual. A lot of the actors and actresses milling about the tables and booths said hi to me as I made my way to Virginia in the corner. I’d stood on endless lines with them outside producers’ offices or read sides with them in radio studios or on Broadway stages. Sometimes, I even did a real show with them, only radio. I slid into a booth opposite Virginia. We’d been passing each other in the Canteen for months, but we hadn’t sat down to really talk since November. I never told Virginia what had happened between Juliana and me ’cause I couldn’t bear her telling me I was better off. That’s probably why it’d been so long since we’d gone out together.
“Hey, Al.” A girl I knew from making the rounds leaned on our table. “I just got wind that George Schaefer is casting a new Hamlet he’s gonna do at Columbus Circle. One of us should be able to land a part at least in the ensemble. That’d be a few months of eating regular.”
“Thanks, Bertie. Maybe,” I said, not very enthusiastically.
“What about that?” Virginia asked after Bertie left. “Didn’t you tell me that when you first came to New York your big dream was to act in the classics?”
“Yeah, but now, I don’t know.”
“Are you all right?”
/>
“I didn’t get home till late last night. I went to hear one of the Canteen bands at the Village Vanguard, then I went uptown to hear a jazz quartet at Famous Door.”
“And you were at the Rainbow Room the night before. You’re certainly having fun these days. If that’s what you’re doing.”
“I like being surrounded by music.” I couldn’t tell her that it was my way of not thinking about Juliana. I’d grab some soldier from the Canteen and get him to take me, but I was a terrible date. I didn’t even talk to him. I just let the music wash over me, lulling me into another world.
“I’m worried about you, Al,” Virginia said, as she took a sip of her coffee. “You don’t seem right.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not convinced. Have you been smoking those funny cigarettes?”
“No! What made you ask me that?”
“Well, if you’re becoming friendly with musicians—”
“I’m not friends with them. I just listen to the music. My church showed this movie about reefer when I was a kid and how it can make you crazy and addicted. It scared me so bad I’ll never touch that stuff. So what’s Max got to say these days?”
“Nothing.” She looked down into her coffee cup.
“Nothing? What do you mean? You must’ve heard from him by now?
“No.” She took a sip of coffee.
“But it’s been …?”
“Six months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You always seem so busy and … far away. I didn’t think it would matter to you.”
“Of course, it matters. Both you and Max matter to me. Very much. I’ve just—things have happened. Things I haven’t been able to talk about and—”
“Well, Henry leaving you right when you were about to get married must have been a horrible shock. I’m sure that’s why you’ve been acting distant.”
