gruesome and ugly details.
After dinner we rode back to the house slowly.
I could sense he was prolonging his time with me. I
didn't want him to leave either. I suggested he come in
and maybe we would find Evan up. We didn't. His
door remained shut and when I knocked again, we got
the same silent response. It wasn't that late yet, so we went into the family room and started watching some
television, sitting beside each other on the long settee. We began to kiss, small, exploratory kisses, our
lips grazing our faces, his moving over my eyes, my
nose, and always finding their way back to mine. I
turned into him and moaned softly.
He chanted my name as if it was a prayer, and
he told me how much he had missed me and longed to
see me. His hands moved up from my waist to my
shoulders and then over my breasts. It felt good to be
loved, to be wanted, to be needed. I said nothing when
he reached back and shut off the lamp beside us. Only
the glow of the television screen cast any illumination
over us. It was a warm light, making his face glow.
When he undid the buttons of my blouse and slipped
it off my shoulders, he brought his lips down to
follow the lines of my neck to my shoulders and
kissed me again while he took my blouse off
completely. I could feel him fumbling with my bra
clip and reached back to undo it myself. He nudged it
away with the tip of his nose and began to kiss my
breasts.
Excitement within me spiraled out, reaching
every part of my body, right down to my tots. I had no
idea how far we would go. I toyed with complete abandon and he went further and further, moving his hands up my legs, over my thighs, until he made my
heart nearly leap out of my chest.
"We'd better stop," I whispered in his ear, even
though I didn't want to stop. I almost wished he would
ignore me, but he was too sweet and loving not to
listen. He held me tightly, waiting for his own
breathing to calm.
"My heart's pounding like some
sledgehammer," he said. "I'm afraid they'll come
home and walk in on us. Barry.'
"No, you're right," he said. "Of course." "I don't want you to be upset," I said and kissed
him. He kissed me back.
"When you go beyond a certain point, it's like
trying to stop a car on ice," he muttered. He kissed my
breasts again and held me just as tightly. "It's hard to
just stop," he said, not moving away. "Maybe if we do
it slowly, like easing out of quicksand."
"You think I'm quicksand?"
"I wouldn't mind if you were pulling me down
and into you. Rose." he said.
I smiled and kissed him. He moved down, his
lips traveling over my breasts again to my stomach
and to my skirt, which was still undone. I pressed my hands against his ears and felt myself being pulled
along as he went further and further until I gasped. "Please," I said with barely a breath. "All right. I'm sorry. I want you so much," he
said.
We lay next to each other, waiting for our blood
to settle, like water that had reached its boiling point.
All we could hear was the sound of our own deep
breathing. Then, I heard something in the hallway and
moved quickly to get my bra back on and my blouse. "Are they here?" he asked nervously. He
reached over to turn the lamp on.
We both listened. Except for the very low
murmur of the television, it was silent again. I rose
slowly and went to the door. I thought I heard the
squeaking sound of Evan's wheelchair and then the
nearly silent closing of his door. My heart pounded.
Had he seen us?
"Rose? Anyone there?"
"No," I said.
"Maybe I should get going." Barry said, coming
up beside me. He kissed me on the cheek and I leaned
back into him while he held me, kissed my hair, and
whispered, 'I really like you, Rose. I like you a lot." "I'm glad. Barry," I said. I turned to him and we
kissed again. Then we walked to the front door. We stood outside looking up at the starry night
sky. There was no moon but the stars seemed closer,
their illumination washing the world in a silvery glow
that turned the trees into sentinels manning the walls
of our castle, keeping all the sadness and worry away
from us. securing our dreams, It was magical. "I'll call you tomorrow." Barry promised.
"Good."
He kissed me again and then he left, letting his
hand slide slowly through mine. I kept mine extended
as if the warmth and the feel of his remained, even
though he was already down the stairs. He paused at
his car, waved again, and got in. I watched him drive
off. Then I embraced myself and went back into the
house.
I stood in the foyer and listened. The television
was still on. but I didn't see or hear Evan. I returned to
the family room, straightened out the settee, and then
turned off the set. Before I went upstairs. I walked
quietly toward Evan's room. I noticed that his door
was slightly ajar and there was some light behind it, a
flickering glow.
"Evan?" I said at the door. He didn't reply. I
nudged it open a bit more and gazed in. At first what I saw seemed so strange. I thought I was imagining it. He was at his computer, wearing his headphones-- and nothing else. For a moment I couldn't breathe. I stepped back, closed the door as quietly as I could, and fled up the corridor, up the stairs, and into my
room.
Whatever he was doing. I thought, I had no
right to spy on him and certainly no right to judge
him. I pushed the images out of my mind, quickly
replacing them with images of Barry and sounds of
his voice, his words, our wonderful lovemaking. I had wanted to be as intimate as possible with
him, but I didn't want him thinking that if I was that
intimate with him so quickly, I might be the same
with other boys. It has to be special; it's important that
it's special. It won't have the same meaning and
significance if it isn't, I thought.
But I was certain in my heart that we would be
complete lovers soon. I fell asleep dreaming of that
and the wonder of what just the thought of it did to the
way I saw and felt about everything around me. It was
as if all my senses had been heightened and my blood
made richer.
The tips of my fingers and toes tingled with
expectation. I moaned softly to myself, hugged my pillow, and pressed my cheek to the soft fluffiness, anxious to travel quickly through the dark doors of sleep into the wonder of my fantasies.
Just before dawn. I woke with a start. It felt like someone had nudged my shoulder with his or her forefinger. I sat up and listened. The house was dead quiet, but I thought about Mammy. What time did they return? I had not heard a sound. Was I in that deep of a sleep? Too curious to fall back to sleep. I rose, put on my robe, and quietly made my way out and to Mammy's room. The door was shut, but I opened it very quietly and peered in at her bed. There was enough light pouring through the window to set it outlined and to clearly see that she was not in it, that she had not
been in it.
My heart did a flip. Where was she? I closed the door and listened and then returned to my bedroom, but I was unable to fall asleep. I lay the listening for someone. I finally heard the maid moving about downstairs, so I rose, washed, and dressed as quickly as I could. When I descended, she was preparing the breakfast table.
"Good morning, Nancy Sue," I said, trying to hide my anxiety. "Morning. Miss." "Have you spoken with Mrs. Curtis already?" I asked.
She looked at me as if I had asked her if she had been to the moon. "No. Miss."
"I just wondered," I said. I went outside and walked to the garage where I saw the car. If the car was back, where was Mommy?
I went in and to Evan's room, knocking on his door.
"Evan? Are you up yet?"
"Yes," he said and opened the door. He was dressed and in his wheelchair. "I thought I'd come out for breakfast today. Did you have a good time last night?"
"Yes, Evan. Why wouldn't you answer when I knocked? I wanted you to meet Barry and he really did want to meet you very much."
"I wasn't in the mood for company," he said quickly and wheeled himself into the hallway. "Did you have breakfast already?"
"No."
"Good. You can tell me about your evening, if you want," he said.
"Wait."
He paused and looked at me, puzzled by my tone.
"My mother," I said.
"What about her?"
"She's not back. The car is back, but she isn't."
"Oh." He smiled and looked up as if he could see through the ceiling. "Auntie Charlotte's work. I'm sure,' he said.
"What do you mean?"
He started to wheel himself toward the dining room. I followed quickly.
"Evan? What did you mean?"
"I told you how she was always trying to fix my mother up with someone, arranging dates. Maybe she thinks she's Cupid." he said and turned sharply into the dinning room. "Good morning, Nancy Sue. I'm starving today. How about some eggs and grits?"
"Very good. Master Evan."
"Just call me Evan. Nancy Sue. I've asked you a hundred times. I'm past being a master this or that," he lectured. She looked more amused than upset and left to prepare his food.
"What are you saying, Evan?" I demanded. He shrugged.
"She went to a party where my aunt Charlotte introduced her to some fine gentlemen or gentleman, and you say she's not back. It's not rocket science. Rose. '
"My mother isn't like that," I said, shaking my head.
"My mother wasn't either," he said. "But here I am." He gazed out the window, "Here I am."
More frightened than furious. I spun on my heels and marched down the hallway and up the stairs. I went to Charlotte's closed door and knocked. I heard her groan so I knocked again.
"What is it?" she cried.
I opened the door and stepped into her bedroom. She was still in bed, the comforter drawn to her chin. With the netting over her hair and her pale face peering over the blanket at me, she looked like some sort of space creature.
"What is it? Something happen to Evan?"
"No. Where's my mother?"
"Oh," she said. She struggled to get herself into a sitting position and reached for a glass of water before responding. "She's not in her room?"
"No."
She smiled.
"She'll be back soon, I suppose," she replied. "What do you mean? What happened to her?"
"Nothing she didn't want to happen to her. I expect. She and Grover enjoyed each other's company far more than even I had anticipated. She accepted an invitation to see his family's Atlanta apartment and they left the party. I waited for them to return, but," she said with a smile. "she didn't."
"Are you saying my mother spent the night with a man she has just met?"
"Your mother is a grown woman. Rose. Don't you think you're being a bit overly dramatic about this? She's still a young woman. Let her enjoy what's left of her youth and beauty,
"What she or any woman in her state doesn't need is an anchor tied to her legs in the form of a neurotic daughter."
"I'm not a neurotic daughter!"
"Good. Then all will be well. Would you please ask Nancy Sue to bring me some black coffee and some ice water? Thank you," she said, lowering herself back under her comforter. She closed her eyes to indicate that the conversation was at an absolute end.
I stared at her, fuming, and then left, closing the door a bit too hard, for I heard her groan in dismay.
Mommy didn't return until late in the afternoon. Evan and I were out on the rear patio. I was reading and talking about Hamlet with him because it was a play my class had already done and I had to read and understand quickly. He had gone on the Internet and printed out some very helpful study guides, and he had read the play himself. His understanding of the language and the metaphors amazed me. Sometimes when he spoke or explained something I had missed, he sounded like my teacher at school. I told him so. I could see he was proud and enjoyed the compliment.
"You set, Evan. You do have a lot to offer people. You've got to stop living like a hermit, an electronic hermit with your computer as your only window to the world. You've got to interact with people, too."
"People disappoint me too often," he said. "So? You'll meet other people who won't." He stared at me for a moment and then nodded.
"Tell me about our father," he requested. "I mean, really tell me everything. I want to know the silliest, smallest details about him."
"Okay," I said. Despite it all. I loved talking about Daddy. I closed my eyes and brought up the visions of him I most cherished. I described his gestures, his smile, the cologne he wore, his funny expressions, some of the impulsive things he had done and would do. I went on and on and when I gazed at Evan. I saw a soft smile on his lips
"The way you make him sound. I can almost understand why my mother became involved with a married man. He was a snake- charmer. I guess. if I had met him. I would have been forced to like him myself, even though I wouldn't approve of him."
"I think so. Evan."
"Thanks," he said and sat back. That was when we heard Mommy's laughter and voice.
He looked at me sharply.
"Don't make her feel like a sinner," he warned, "I did that to my mother sometimes, and I've always regretted it."
"I just want to know exactly what's going on here," I said, jumping up.
I heard all the conversation coming from the living room and hurried to it, where I found Charlotte sitting across from Mommy and a tall, dark-haired man with a mustache like Clark Gable, a strong square chin, high cheekbones, and a dazzling pair of the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. He was long-legged and trim and wore a dark blue blazer and a pair of light blue slacks with blue boat shoes.
"This must be Rose," he said before I could speak.
"Yes, it is," Mommy said. "Hi, honey. I'd like you to meet Mr. Fleming."
"Please, call me Grover." he said. rising. He extended his hand. I glanced at it and at Mommy and then shook it, letting go so quickly anyone would have thought his was full of thorns. Charlotte was beaming from her chair.
"Hello," I said, forcing the word through my tight throat.
Nancy Sue entered with a tray, carrying three glasses of champagne. "All, wonderful,'" Grover declared. He handed Mammy hers and I saw by the way she looked up at him that she was lost in his eyes. It made my heart deflate like a balloon. Charlotte took hers.
"Thank you. Nancy Sue. Rose, would you like anything?" she asked sweetly enough to make my stomach churn.
"No, thank you," I said quickly.
"How was your date. honey?" Mommy asked. "Very nice," I said. "I tried to wait up for you."
"Where's Evan?" Charlotte quickly asked.
"On the patio. We were studying Hamlet together."
"Ah, to be or not to be... for me, there is no longer a question," Grover declared, his eyes on Mommy, who looked like an adoring teenager. He tapped her glass with his.
&n
bsp; "Why don't you see if you can talk poor Evan into going to a movie this afternoon?" Charlotte suggested. She turned to Grover. "The child either has his nose in a book or his eyes glued to a computer screen. He doesn't get out of the house."
"Oh?" He turned to me and smiled. "If anyone can get him out. I'll bet it's you. Rose," he said and laughed a tight, small laugh that made my nerves tremble. Mommy looked like she enjoyed every breath he took.
Couldn't she see how smooth he was? He slid around the room with his eyes, his gestures, and his smile like some eel, titillating both Charlotte and Mommy. He used his good looks well, with confidence, even arrogance,
"Don't worry about us," Charlotte continued. "We're going to a dinner party."
"Another dinner party?" I blurted, looking at Mommy.
"Yes," she said, exploding with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful?"
I looked at Grover, whose eyes were on me, darker, more expectant and analytical, waiting for my reaction. Charlotte was her usual smug self.
"I don't know, Monica," I said with words sharp enough to cut ears, is it.
I turned and left the room. Charlotte and Drover's laughter felt like small rocks thrown at my back. Evan took one look at me when I returned to the patio and simply said. "Uh-oh."
I didn't respond. I kept marching off the patio and down the path, my head down, my heart thumping.
Evan wheeled himself behind me and caught up when I reached his tree. He didn't speak. He watched me sulk for a few long moments.
"I like being with you," I finally said, and I wanted to get to know you very much. but I think living here is a big mistake."
"It's hard. I guess, to see your mother with some other man. You keep thinking about your father. I didn't have that problem," he added. "but I didn't like her being with anyone anyway. I guess I had the old Oedipus complex, huh?"
"I don't mind her finding someone else. I don't want her pining away in some attic, dying like an old, frustrated widow," I said sharply. "That's not it. but...
"But what?"
"I don't know." I shook my head. I didn't know exactly. I looked down at him. His eyes were intense, glued to my face.
"There's something not right." He smiled.
"Something's rotten in the state of Denmark," he said, quoting one of the lines from Hamlet we had just discussed.
"Exactly." I said. I looked back at the house. "Exactly."
9 Dancing
Rose Page 11
