by Anne Fall
"I know." Politely turning her face away, Sylvia allowed Ella a moment to herself. Looking at her too closely would be disastrous.
"You want to get something to eat? We have ice cream in the kitchen." Ella's eyes sparkled, and she chased away nostalgia with a remembered pleasure.
"I always want ice cream." They crept silently as two laughing girls could down the staircase and brought overflowing bowls of ice cream bordered with cookies back to the bedroom.
That night, in bed, Sylvia slept deeply and without dreams. It had all become very clear to her, what must be done. She would sleep with David. It was the only comprehensible conclusion to what had begun that summer. Sylvia had to rid herself of this, as she could no longer live with the presence of it hanging around her neck like the white pearl pendant she had worn since her coming out party.
CHAPTER 15
On a sunny afternoon, David and Sylvia drove the motorcycle out to Provincetown. The scenic drive sped through small towns, pine bordered acreage, and various landmarks of the perfectly picturesque Cape. There was a small gas station that claimed to be the last one before Provincetown, and they stopped to gas up. Sylvia stretched lengthily out. Her back and legs ached from the ride, but she felt very good, whole. The man behind the counter smiled at the two of them when David paid for the gasoline and two sodas.
Once they reached Provincetown, the entire mood changed. It became more carefree, like beaded necklaces and glittering dresses. The streets were more relaxed, and people meandered with less of the suffocation of the New England upper class. David looked perfect there. There were artists everywhere, painting in the open air. They watched a man painting at an easel on the grey, wooden dock. Sylvia loved the smell of the paint and linseed oil. They walked by shops and galleries. Art work flourished in the wide storefront windows in primary colors and strange shapes. Unlike the western part of the Cape, the paintings and prints were more than scenic sailboats and white washed beaches. The art felt dangerous, an open rebellion in the streets. It refreshed her and made her heady with the ideal of herself as different standing in front of those paintings. There were huge nonfigurative pieces that fascinated Sylvia and strained her eyes as she tried to take them in. David called them Abstract Expressionism. She wondered how he knew that. She thought of Eric. Had he been here? Did he know?
They went to two shows that evening. To be young there, the two of them still felt at ease. The crowd was a laughing blend of bohemian poets and business men with their collars loosened. There were comedy, dancing, and music. At one point, it was whispered that Ella Fitzgerald would perform, but she did not appear. Sylvia felt gloriously unleashed, as if an undergarment constraining her breathing had been removed.
The hours passed until the world was lit by candles and the air turned violet by saxophones. David and Sylvia danced with the rest of the men and the wilting flowers of women who leaned into them. The music drifted leisurely and seductively, and it was as if this night was just for them, as it always is for young lovers. After the shows were over, the night called them into the fresh ocean air, and the two of them could feel it, how they had finally reached the end of the earth, the end of a continent.
They stopped in a little restaurant with outdoor tables to eat. They were in love and poor, so they had big creamy bowls of clam chowder. It was salty, velvety, and warming. The little oyster crackers delighted her, so tiny and pillow-like. The two of them acted shamelessly, and David whispered remarks about the passing people to her until she was hopelessly silly with mirth. It was vibrant here. The entire world of the Cape had been painted in hydrangea blue and china white in her mind. Here, the colors were lifted by reds and purples, almost like a carnival. It was like a loss of control, a wild artistry the rest of the Cape would not accept, pushed out the edge of the world for those hungry enough or lonely enough to run to.
Before they reached the docks again, David pressed Sylvia against a brick wall and kissed her lips lovingly, slowly. When he was done with the kiss, she looked up into his face, surprised by the seriousness that interrupted their pleasure trip.
"I don't ever want to let you go." He enunciated each word to make them unavoidable.
"Don't then." His hands on her rib cage made her feel like she was something he could open up and release.
"They'll make me, Sylvia." He surrounded her then, letting the crowds pass them. His two palms rested on the brick wall behind her, protecting her body from the people going by, back to their homes or into the night. She felt propelled forward. Time was running out, as her father had said.
The drive home that night left the gaiety of Provincetown far behind them. They were sombre and silent. It was after Provincetown that Sylvia began to understand the idea of not being able to go back in life. Time is permanent.
Sylvia went to see Ella a few days after the trip. Ella stood eyeing Sylvia in some concern. Sylvia seemed too serene, too certain.
"You'll want to put on some powder." Ella brought her a scented box of lilac powder and watched her in approval while she covered the length of herself in it.
"It smells beautiful, doesn't it? You'll always remember that about tonight, the smell of the lilac." Ella replaced the box in the bathroom and returned with a slightly guilty air "You know, you really don't have to do this, Sylvia."
"I do. I really do. I want it over with."
"I know, I know how you feel, but you'll be leaving soon. Have you thought about that? You won't be able to see him any more."
"I know. You're right. I know that, Ella." Turning to face herself in the mirror, Sylvia shook her head. She pictured herself on the plane, flying home and away. How many miles was it? "But, I think I want it this way. I do. I want it to be my choice, you know? Not a mistake or an accident." It strengthened her, choosing the place and time where she would miscarry the ideal of womanhood. She picked up a silver handled brush from Ella's dressing table and began brushing her hair in rough strokes. "What will I wear?" Lighting up, Ella stood and went to her closet.
"White, of course. Let me see. I have just the thing." Ella found a cotton dress. It was made of white eyelet, and the softness of the material blended with the scent of the lilac around her, and Sylvia realized that Ella was right. This night would forever hold the scent of lilac in her mind.
When David and Sylvia met that night, Sylvia turned her face upwards to meet his and allowed him to see the thing that she intended for them tonight written on it. It was yes, it was acceptance. She could not tell if she was happy or sad.
"Oh." He pulled her against him.
"Yes." Her voice reverted to shyness, and she looked away from his eyes, which she realized could see her, read her.
"There's a pond, really a lake, and it's deserted this time of night. Kids play there, usually. It's really pretty in the moonlight." His voice asked her affirmation, embarrassed at not having more to offer her. "I have a blanket tied on the back of the bike we could use to sit on, talk a little while."
"That sounds, that sounds perfect." She was a gift, not a thing stolen.
"I've missed you." Oh, please, let it be easy, she thought.
Nestled deeply beyond a tall border of trees, the pond looked far away in the distance. From the road, she could see shimmers of it through the trees. It seemed foreign to her, the presence of that body of water that did not touch the sea. Everything here met the sea. The first visible pond was spacious with a small sandy beach leading up to it. The side pond was bordered by vocal grasses and the sound of crickets and amphibians murmuring their nighttime sounds. Some place between the two, David led her in a slow stroll. He laid their blanket down in the sand and faced her. The movement of the water around them was very diminutive, but there were tides to the pond. It was gentle, almost silent, and sighing in welcome.
A small family still played near the first pond. A tall woman was shaking out a blue blanket, carefully away from the group. It snapped with the movement of her long arms. She began folding it and called to the
children to bring their sand toys. The children pleaded no, and they ran naughtily back into the water. The father was dragging up a wicker basket to the car, and the mother stood with her feet in the sand, gesturing to the children to come out of the water. At length, they did. She looked at Sylvia and David briefly before leaving, as if making sure Sylvia was okay there. Sylvia waved, and the woman waved back as she left. They listened for the sound of the car leaving, on edge.
"It's beautiful here." Sylvia spoke as the low rumble of the engine disappeared into the distance.
"It's a sweet spot. We used to come here as kids and play. It's easier with children than the ocean."
"I like it. It's quiet, much quieter than the beach." They sat for a moment, listening to the stillness.
"Want to go for a swim?" David asked the question with a smile on his face, already taking off his ever present jacket.
"Yes." The answer was straightforward, and Sylvia followed suit and began to remove her clothing. She was unafraid. As things stood, it was uncomplicated. She already had his first gaze on her, and Sylvia met the second with poise.
Once Sylvia was in her undergarments, David stood in front of her stripped to his as well. He was confident, and it became plain that like Sylvia, he had passed some unknown trial and was no longer ashamed of himself either. The two stood facing each other in curved convexes and concaves. Light and air were the only elements of separation here. He led her to the water. Their clothing left on the beach lay in a soft dishevelled pile, white and obvious as the understanding between them.
The placid waves of the pond lapped at their bare feet. Somehow, their feet looked more naked than the rest of them. It could have been bathwater they were in, so temperate was the water. Once they reached chest height, Sylvia dipped herself under the water and realized it tasted salty, brackish like the sea but milder. The bottom of the pond was sandy, like the sea as well. It felt like she spent a long time below the water. At first, she had only meant to wet her hair. Once underneath, she opened her eyes and looked at David beneath the water. His torso was long and triangular, and his shoulders, barely submerged, were the widest point. The hair on his body mimicked the larger triangle of him and traveled down. His thighs were strong, and she could see the muscular structure of him. Sylvia closed her eyes and emerged from the depths below her.
Light as a feather in the water, her body easily floated to David's. Rather than pursuing touch, David splashed her playfully. She returned the splash, and a water fight commenced between the two of them until they were laughing wildly and without fear. Afterwards, he used only his fingertips to pull her to him. He brought her up high, until her legs were around his waist, and he twirled her in the water. He stood as the centrifugal force, moving in small tight circles.
Removing her hands from David’s shoulders, Sylvia leaned back and allowed her torso to splay out and float in the water, moving round and round in circles. Her bare stomach faced the sky. Sylvia extended her arms until she was completely free, hanging onto David with her legs as he spun her. They both began laughing again, and Sylvia felt like a child. The stars were visible as she spun in the water like a hurricane.
David slowed the spinning down to a lazy circle. When Sylvia was finally relaxed and floating, his hands moved from her waist to her hips. Slowly lowering her hips to meet his, Sylvia found herself rising from the water and meeting the hardness of his chest with the pliability of hers. Her body returned to the heaviness of gravity when he lifted her up above the waterline. David's dark eyes met hers, and he brought them together with a simple movement. It was easy.
They spent the night on that faux beach, immersed in each other and the silence around them. For a time, they whispered to each other. The transitory scent of lilac was gone, and she smelled like the salt of the water. Afterwards, David brushed the sand away from her body with his warm hands until she was dry and clean. Unbelievably thirsty, they were able to laugh about their lack of water. The beach became a desert, and they only had each other in it. Sylvia cried a little and he held her. She could not tell if she was more or less alone now.
CHAPTER 16
The rest of July and the beginning of August passed in the oppressive heat of the deep summer months. The beaches, ponds, bogs, lighthouses, and benches welcomed Sylvia and David, delighted in their presence. It was easy. They ate endless candy downtown together, and David bought her a silver bracelet fashioned with seashells from a local shop.
Sylvia spent less and less time at Vivian's home. She told her that she and Ella had become fast friends, which was true. Vivian was unperturbed by her absence and explained it to herself by remembering her girlhood friends from whom she had been inseparable. Going even further in her mind, Vivian began to think the friendship was helping Sylvia through the divorce, because when she occasionally saw her picking up a change of clothes or a quick meal, she looked happy.
David and Sylvia went to drive-in movie theaters together, diners late at night, and found all the small places in the world that are only visible to those who have something to conceal. Sometimes, they found other lovers in these places. Each couple would pretend not to see the other, and there was an etiquette they followed as to who was there first. They had told each other they loved each other.
In memory, Sylvia would reflect on the scenes between herself and David as always being lit by an unseen source of light. They were still able easily to slip in and out of the awareness of their friends and family. Things were happening in the world that made them look innocent and harmless to the adults chaperoning them. The Korean War was ending, and people whispered and yelled and spoke about it from peculiar perspectives and stances. A devastating earthquake rocked Greece, and a strike turned France into a stagnant pool of workers. The Soviet Union announced they had a hydrogen bomb, and while it meant little to Sylvia and David at the time, they were aware of the world altering around them. Radios and televisions crackled everywhere with dire warnings. Rather than actually registering the news, Sylvia heard only the word ‘change’: change, change, change. While she clung to what she had, it was already slipping away and into the past. The summer had begun to feel transitory and as it ended, her world was returning to seriousness, and the prospect of going home. Rather than being a destination, the Cape became a hotel on her journey between then and now. Sylvia knew then summer would be taken away from her.
Sylvia and David did not speak about how the end would come or what it would mean for them until the last moment. David had more experience with summer romances, and he navigated the world of it for Sylvia without hesitation. They spent their time basking on the beach together, taking trips to the state parks, and being wildly young and irresponsible. David, for his part, seemed to be drawing the ire of his parents at home. He went to work less and less, and Sylvia never remarked on it. She accepted him when he was with her and missed him when he was not.
During that time, Sylvia spent a night at Ella's, wearily tossing and turning in the bed with anxiety, clutching at her blankets. She tried to calm herself down In her mind, she had begun to picture David and her living in a small house near the ocean, further out on the Cape, near Provincetown. The rent was so cheap there. Who would see them? David could be a fisherman, she could be his wife. It would be simple. Why did she have to be so young? Her parents would never consent, and if she ran away with David, she knew that they would never stop searching for her until they had found her. Nevertheless, in her mind, she imagined the two of them. She thought she could be happy, that way.
Both Sylvia and Ella's families had been invited to a wedding. The groom was one of Adam's nephews. While it was late in the wedding season, they were still excited. It was to be on the beach, and the reception to follow at a home. Vivian spoke of it with pleasure. She seemed expectant and alive. She and Catherine went into town in search of gifts and came back with boxes wrapped in white with shimmering ribbon. Sylvia wondered what they had found, but she did not have the energy to ask. Those gifts
sat in the foyer like guests for days.
Ella was writhing in anticipation. Her mother and father were invited, and while she tried to hide her excitement at seeing them, she could not. It had been months since she had seen them. They were driving out for it. In the clear sunlight the morning of the wedding, she was ransacking her closet for something to wear, having changed her mind over and over. It was going to be a hot day, and the humidity clung to them like a damp garment. Sylvia lay in the bed, watching her with sleepy eyes.
"What do you think of this?" Ella held up a prim white blouse with lace on the collar.
"I think it'd be perfect." Sylvia was not fully awake, and Ella looked displeased with the answer, because she had already formulated her own.
"But, it's not dressy enough. It's a wedding, Sylvia." There was chastising in her voice and frustration. "What are you going to wear?"
"Me? I'm not going." The idea that Ella expected her to go astonished her.
"Oh, yes, you are." Ella firmly set her lips in a tight line. "Your aunt told my grandmother you were going. It's one of the reasons I can."
"Why would I go? Vivian didn't even invite me, really." Resting her head on the pillow, Sylvia wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.
"Of course you're invited. It's your relative, for God's sake." Ella rolled her eyes and turned back toward the closet.
"Ella, really. I don't want to go. I haven't really had to face my aunt and uncle. Or Catherine and Eric."
"Well, you're going to have to face them at some point." Ella threw dresses and blouses on the floor behind her. "What better time than with me at your side for support?"
"Oh, Ella, please no." Sylvia rubbed her fingertips on her temples, still shaking away dreams.
"Please, for me. Haven't I done things for you?" The remark singed Sylvia, but she nodded her head in submission.
