“What did you tell them?”
“You don’t actually think I told them the truth, do you?”
“No, I guess not. But God, they should have enough sense to take it for granted. You’re not a little girl anymore, Avis.”
She said nothing and he searched her face for a long moment. She had become timid and insecure. “Chig, will you…will you talk to Daddy about us getting married?”
He stared off into a dustless corner. “Avis, you know I want to marry you, but after I graduate in June, I still have three years of law school. I can’t possibly support you. And you have to finish college too.”
“But they don’t even want us to set a date. They just want you to say something to them. You can do that.”
“Sure I can. But I don’t see why I have to. I know they’ll say Okay. Even if they didn’t, wouldn’t you marry me?”
“Of course I would.” She believed it, but, for an instant, he did not. She leaned toward him. “But since they’ll say Yes, it doesn’t matter if you ask them or not. Aren’t you sure of us?” Her face was troubled.
“Of course I am!” He decided quickly. “Okay, I’ll ask him.” It sounded right, but still he felt uncomfortable. He gripped her hand. “You know I want to marry you, don’t you?”
Her eyes were a trifle pink. “I know that, Chig.” She smiled.
“I’m only thinking of you. I want you to have everything.”
“I will. I’ll be marrying you.”
He felt like sighing, but held it back. “When does he want me to speak to him?”
“Anytime you feel like it. They really like you very much.” She was trying to encourage him.
He had always hoped that their engagement would come about in a more romantic way. But her parents had robbed him of the perfect night and setting. He tried now to salvage a particle of his romantic dream. “You got an extra hairpin? The wire kind.”
“Sure.” She leaned to the other side of the bed, opened a drawer, and handed it to him.
“Let me have your…right hand.” She extended it to him, and he bent the hairpin around the knuckle of her ring finger.
“What are you doing?”
He searched her soft face to see if she was pretending ignorance, but could not tell. He put the hairpin into his pocket. “It’s a surprise.”
* * *
—
BEFORE KNOCKING, he inspected himself. This was a special day and he wanted his clothes in perfect order. He was not surprised to find his efforts had come to nothing. He still looked as if he had dressed in the panic of fleeing a burning house. As usual, his shirt was creeping out of his pants, his knees were bagging, his socks were sliding into his shoes. He sighed and knocked at her door.
Avis, propped on two pillows, was reading. In her hair, yellow ribbons had replaced yesterday’s blue bows. She gave him her nicest smile. He asked her how she felt.
“Better. But I want to get out of here.” She spoke as if he could do something about it.
He removed his overcoat, sneaking the ring box to his jacket pocket, and pulled up a chair.
“What kind of day did you have?”
“All right.” He belittled the thrill of what he had done, and was about to do, trying to detect if she had any idea why he had wanted the hairpin. “Avis,” he started, but bogged down in muddy nervousness.
She studied him. “Yes.”
He tried again. “Avis, I always had a dream of how…I always thought I’d do this after something good happened to me that would sort of guarantee our security…and that it would be a surprise to you.” He searched her face again. She knew now. “But none of that happened. So, anyway, it doesn’t matter. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, Chig. I love you, Chig.”
He reached into his pocket, produced the ring box, and handed it to her. She opened it, leaned toward him, and kissed him sweetly. Her tears were oily on his cheek. “It’s beautiful, Chig. It didn’t cost too much, did it?” She looked at it once more, then handed back the box.
A feeling like eating lemons spread through him. “What’s wrong, Avis?” His voice cracked.
She did not notice. “You have to put it on me.”
He did; it was small and cold, and fit perfectly.
“I’ll never take it off. Only you can take it off.”
“Then you’re stuck with it.” Smiling, he sat back in his chair, tired. It was finished, settled; he was engaged. He began to think of the wonderful life that one day they would have with each other.
She interrupted his dreams. “I spoke to my parents, last night, Chig.” The happiness in her eyes had fled while he was dreaming.
He leaned forward. “What did they say?”
She hesitated. “They want us to set a definite date. They want us to get married in August. They—”
“In August! What do they think I am?” He was standing, glaring down at her. “Didn’t you tell them what I said?”
“Chig, don’t shout.”
He fell into his chair, and attempted to rein his feelings by whispering. “Avis, how can I marry you in August? What’ll we live on?”
She brightened. “That’s no problem. Your parents are going to see you through law school, aren’t they? And mine’ll see me through college. I’ll transfer to wherever you are.”
He could not arrange all his different emotions, but one picture kept exploding in his mind—of a baby monkey he had seen once on television that shivered and whimpered in the corner of a wire cage, as lights flashed and the arms of a weird contrivance clawed and battered the air. The monkey had been part of a psychological experiment. Stress had destroyed its mind.
Avis was quite calm.
“Don’t you see why it would be bad for us to get married so soon, Avis?”
“I know, Chig. But we don’t have to worry about money. And I didn’t think you minded that much.” She looked down at the ring sparkling on her finger, and sighed. “Three years is a long time to wait, Chig.”
“I know.” He stared at the springs of the high bed. “But…I’m….You really want to get married in August, don’t you.”
She answered with thoughts they had often expressed. “You always have to go home, go away from me, go back someplace. It’d be nice to lock our door and say goodnight to the world together.”
He nodded. “Have you got enough time to transfer? How do you know you’ll get into a school near me?”
“I’ll just apply to all the places you do. I’ll get in.” Her face was beaming. “It can be so nice, Chig.”
“Yes, it can.” He had forgotten about his cornered, frightened monkey, and begun to think now of a small attic apartment in a university town. He slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. “God, how can I be so stupid! I worry about all the bad things when everything’ll be so good.”
“You just want it to be perfect, Chig. That’s not bad.” She smiled at him. “You’re just a worrier.”
“I’m stupid too.” He shook his head and began to laugh, sensing, for an instant, that his laughter was not completely free or happy.
Avis did not laugh. “When are you going to ask my father?” Her voice was completely emotionless.
He was confused. “You just told me he wants us to get married.”
“But he still expects you to ask him.” She was annoyed with him. “He said he won’t know you’re sincere until you look him in the eye and ask him.”
“Would I go out and buy a God-damned engagement ring if I wasn’t sincere?” Again, he saw his monkey, shivering.
“It’s the custom to ask him.”
“Custom? Oh boy!” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
“Don’t be disrespectful of my father!” She was too serious, and beginning to get red.
He did not want her angry at him.
“I’ll go see him right now. Is he in his office?”
She glared at him. “Yes, he is and you don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“I’m not being sarcastic,” he whined.
“Look, do you really want to marry me?”
“Come on, don’t be silly. I only want to get this junk out of the way.”
“It is not junk. Why do you always have to be so disagreeable!”
“All right, Avis. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “It’s not junk. I’ll go see him tonight—now.”
“Don’t go if you don’t want to.” She picked up the book she had been reading when first he came.
“I want to go.” Suddenly he was so tired he could not hold up his head. The bones and muscles in his neck no longer existed.
“I’m sorry, Chig. I guess it’s been a hard day for you.” The tone of her voice made him feel better.
“It’s just me. Look, I will go see him. Okay?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He put on his coat and came back to the edge of the bed. “I hope I didn’t upset you. For a minute I forgot you were sick. I mean, that’s taking advantage of you.”
“Oh, Chig, I feel fine.” She looked at her left hand, holding it before her proudly. “I’m engaged! It’s a beautiful ring!”
He kissed her good-by. Closing the door, he turned back and found her gazing at the ring so intently she did not hear him whisper that he loved her.
The memory of the enchanted look on her face helped him survive his thirty-minute interview with her father, who finally consented to their August marriage.
At dinner, he told his parents and his sister he was engaged, and would be married in August if his parents would help financially as Avis’s parents were planning to do. His father shook his hand. His mother kissed him. They said that of course they would help.
His sister, Connie, who was sixteen, sat across from him, silent for a while. “Are you really marrying Avis, Chig?”
At times, Connie asked ridiculous questions. “Sure.” He nodded, puzzled.
Connie stared at him, unblinking. “Oh.” She was disappointed.
* * *
—
AVIS WAS DISMISSED from the hospital a week later. The doctors wanted her to stay home and rest, rather than return to school. She and Chig planned an engagement party for the Friday before Christmas. He wanted to keep the party small and quiet, and to invite only their closest friends. Avis wanted it large and noisy. They compromised. He invited his two best friends; Avis invited sixty people and told them to bring their friends. This upset him. But finally he decided the act of getting married was, after all, by and for women. It would not hurt to let her have a gathering she would always remember.
The party, held at her house in Westchester, was to begin at eight, but Chig arrived in the early afternoon to help decorate. He began to drink immediately, but did not feel anything until well past nine. He discovered he was drunk when he mixed himself, instead of bourbon and soda, bourbon and scotch. He drank it anyway. He knew most of the people by sight, if not by name, but still felt lost, out of place, and began to lurk in the least crowded corners of the house.
Connie, feeling overmatched because of her age, found him on the enclosed porch, where, at the end of the day, there was a fine view of the sun being devoured by the rock cliffs on the western side of the Hudson. She sat beside him.
Chig squinted at her. “Having a good time?” He could not quite make out her face.
“All right.” She smiled. “You look like you are. What gallon you drinking now?” She did not let him answer. “You shouldn’t drink so much, Chig. You have to drive us home.”
He raised his hand, pledging. “Promise to stop after this one. I know my limit.” He took a swallow, and inspected his glass. “Good-by, last drink. You have served me well.”
“What’s wrong, Chig?” She had not yet dropped all her baby fat and her chubby face was more comic than earnest.
“What do you mean? God, was I like this when I was sixteen?” He was talking to his glass.
“Well, if you’re so fine, what are you doing sitting out here when everybody else is having such a good time?”
“I’m having a good time.”
“About as good a time as a rat in a cage.”
He thought about that. Several times, sitting alone on the porch, he had thought about his monkey, wondering too why the stupid little creature clung to his thoughts. “Not a rat, sister dear, a monkey.”
“What?”
“A baby monkey. Were you around that Sunday they had the monkey show?”
“What?”
“The Wisconsin monkey show.” Her face was blank. He went on. “In Wisconsin…the University…they got these monkeys…in cages…away from their mothers. There was this one baby monkey in particular, sleeping on a blanket. Every day they took the blanket out to clean it and when they did the baby monkey would crawl into a corner and whimper and cry and shake.” Connie did not understand. “Don’t you see? The blanket was his mother!” The porch was lighted only by yellow party lamps from inside the house. Chig stared at his drink. “If that monkey has anything to do with people, they really showed what loneliness can do to you. People’ll do anything not to be lonely, you know? I almost cried when they showed that monkey without his blanket.” He shook his head.
Connie was staring at him. “Chig, you really love Avis?”
He shot her a glance. “Of course, I love her. Why do you ask such stupid questions?”
“You sure you love her?” She shifted toward him. Her voice seemed closer now. “No fooling?”
“What’s wrong with you anyway?”
“How can you love her?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s all the things you don’t like in anybody else. I’ve heard you make speeches about it.” She stopped. “She’s a phony, Chig.”
He could not take her seriously. She was probably jealous of Avis. He and Connie had been very close up until three years before, when he started to go steady with Avis. “Why do you say that?” He heard himself being indulgent.
“It’s clear as anything.” She did not sound at all jealous. “Aren’t you supposed to have a good time at your own engagement party?”
“I guess so.”
She had a puzzled expression on her face. “You don’t seem happy.”
“I don’t feel so hot.”
She was silent for a while. “Chig, you better watch out. She’ll eat you alive.”
He was angry now and snapped at her. “What do you know about it?”
“I know you’ve changed a lot. You can’t even blow your nose without wondering if you’re doing it the right way. And you’re getting to be a liar.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know you feel fine, but all this is making you feel bad. You can’t even be honest with me anymore.”
Chig got up. “I want to see Avis.” He left Connie sitting on the porch.
He went downstairs into the cellar playroom, carrying his glass and sloshing liquor on his shoes. He laughed to himself about it, then out loud, and several people turned around to greet him. “Where’s Avis?”
Someone pointed to where people danced under soft lights to loud music.
Avis, in a billowing orange dress with long sleeves, spun around the floor. Chig could not identify her partner. An undirected jealousy hummed through him. Chig did not dance very well. At most parties they attended, he watched her stepping with someone else. Avis loved to dance and did so expertly.
He did not want to see her now, and returned to the porch. Connie had disappeared. He thought how nice it would be if Avis broke away from the people downstairs and came to sit quietly with him.
He did not know how long he brooded on the porch, but all at on
ce people were thundering up from downstairs and filing into the dining room, talking and laughing.
Then Avis was standing by him, her hand on his shoulder. “Where you been?”
“Right here.” With her hair up, she was beautiful in the faint light. “You been looking for me?” He desperately hoped she had.
“Not until now. Come on.” She grabbed his hand, attempting to pull him to his feet.
“Where?” He did not feel like moving.
“Daddy’s going to announce our engagement.” She tried again to rouse him. “You’ll have to make a speech.”
“Okay.” He sighed and struggled to his feet. “Okay.”
She led him into the dining room. The guests stood around a huge table upon which was a large square cake, small forks, pink napkins, and a stack of shining plates. Her father waited at the far end, his hands knit in front of him like a minister’s. He was tall and lean, wore perfectly round spectacles, and a black suit. His hair was long, and brushed straight back in the style of a British diplomat.
Avis led Chig around the table, several people propelling him along with heavy smacks on the back. Her father took a step forward, as the murmuring guests quieted. He said he was proud to announce his daughter’s engagement to Charles Dunford (only her father called him Charles), who he knew as a fine young man with a great future. Everyone applauded and the man shook Chig’s hand for the first time since they had been introduced three years before.
Someone hollered for Chig to make a speech; the motion received a round of applause.
Chig lumbered forward. “Well, you know, I’ve been hanging around here for a long time. And I got to like Avis a lot.” He looked at her and smiled. “But I have to say I was surprised when she asked me to marry her.” Everyone laughed as Chig scanned faces.
“I didn’t really know about that. But she put up a good fight…” There was more laughter. Connie stood far back on his right, her face grave. Chig went on. “So finally I told her Yes, and…” He became very serious now. “And I think it’s the best decision I ever made in my life. Thanks very much for coming.” He put his arm around Avis and kissed her high on the forehead. There was more applause. At that instant, he remembered that Connie had called him a liar. If he had not known before what she meant, he did now, and it frightened him.
Dancers on the Shore Page 7
