His right hand went to his chest, as if to indicate he was trying to keep his heart from coming out of his body and he smiled at me. I laughed at his gesture. Then he looked at my feet in the three inch silver-glittered stilettos and let his eyes follow the slit in my dress up my leg to mid-thigh, where he paused for a second, then his eyes continued their journey to my neck. I watched him look me over. For some reason I wasn’t put off by his gawking. He didn’t try to hide it and he had an endearing smile the entire time.
While Gavin looked at me, I looked at him. He was attractive, no doubt, with his wide Rugby shoulders and slim rower’s waist. His blonde hair fell across his forehead and sort of shifted sideways while the sides were cut short, over his ears. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, not sky blue but almost navy blue, as deep as bottomless inkwells. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a white shirt, white bowtie and white vest. The combination was unique and, on him, stunning. And he wore a smile that lit his entire face—eyes, mouth, nose, even his forehead lifted to make him seem approachable.
I’d known Gavin for almost a year and I liked him, liked being with him. He took me to museums and on ferry rides. We rode in his convertible roadster to upstate New York for picnics and saw movies as soon as they were released. He escorted me to five-star restaurants and hole-in-the-wall pizza joints. We’d been to formal dances, sloppy football games and sock hops. But on this night things seemed different. Not so casual and fun in a friendship way. I think it was the way he looked at me that made me realize something had shifted.
When his gaze rested on the low-cut neckline of my dress that was held up by slim straps I told myself I’d asked for it by wearing a dress that showed my cleavage in such an alluring way—or at least that’s what Debbie, my roommate said. “You know he’s going to fall into your cleavage. You’d better be ready.” I’d laughed at her comment, but if I was honest with myself, I’d probably wanted that exact reaction I got from him.
I kept waiting for him to look at ME, but his eyes paused at my mouth where I’d taken extra care to apply lip gloss to make them look wet. Finally, his eyes stopped on mine.
“You are fabulous,” he said. I blushed and felt a hint of innocence.
Gavin didn’t try to hide the fact that he was smitten with me, which was charming on him. He dropped all pretense of machoism and discarded the play-hard-to-get games. It was obvious by the way he looked at me and treated me that he was putty in my hands. I guess that’s what sucked me in. His complete condor and honesty. It reminded me of Rodney. No pretense. No playing it cool.
Of course, for a guy who’d always had girls fawn all over him, my indifference towards him over the past nine months was probably a challenge, but I didn’t do it purposely. I really didn’t think about him unless he called and asked me out. I guess if I’d never heard from him again, I wouldn’t have noticed.
Gavin was either a complete gentleman or he was afraid of me, I didn’t know which, nor did I dwell on it. I was simply happy he didn’t pressure me. He kissed me after dates, held my hand in movies and pulled me close when we danced, but he didn’t attempt anything further. That was the reason I felt comfortable agreeing to share a hotel room with him. I trusted him. He’d proven himself.
Looking at him in the living room of the hotel suite that night, gorgeous and unabashedly drooling over me, I guess I let my defenses down.
“You smell as fabulous as you look,” he said. “You found the gift I left for you on the bed?”
“Yes. Thank you so much, Gavin. That was very thoughtful.” It was a beautifully wrapped gift with a bottle of Channel #5 in a navy velvet box. I, of course, dabbed it all over myself.
“It smells good on you. In fact, you give it a unique scent. Perhaps we should name it ‘Susanna Number Five.’” We both laughed. The spell was broken but Gavin couldn’t take his eyes off me and I kept looking at him, too. He was strikingly handsome. I felt happy, something I couldn’t remember feeling since, well, when I thought about it, that week with Rodney in another part of this same city, in a far-off time.
On that magical night at the Plaza I was a princess. All my cares fell away, the past, the pain, the struggles—all of it—and I was happy.
“You look handsome, Gavin,” I said. He smiled and his long eyelashes raised from half-mast to fully opened and touched his light eyebrows, almost white from the sun when he rowed and played sports. His square jaw gave him a masculine appearance and he had a deep, sexy voice.
I had a small box in my hand that I knew he hadn’t noticed. I bent to set it on the coffee table, opened it and pulled out a single, white rosebud. When I pinned it on his lapel, his lips brushed the top of my head and I noticed his scent for the first time. English Leather, a familiar smell, but Gavin’s was flavored with his own porous outpourings. It was intoxicating. I didn’t notice his eyes were closed until I raised my head to look at him, my hands still resting on the lapels of his tuxedo.
“You can open your eyes now, handsome.”
“Oh,” he stuttered a second. “Thank you. I didn’t expect the boutonnière.”
“My pleasure.” I smiled.
I was glad he’d bought a wrist corsage, there was no place to pin one on my shoulder. It was ironic that the one he slipped over my hand was made of white roses—nine of them; one for each month we’d dated, he told me.
I didn’t need a wrap since the dance was downstairs in the Plaza Ballroom. I held a small, silver clutch bag and he put his hand gently on the small of my back as he led me out of the suite and into the elevator. I could feel my own body warmth in the palm of his hand that became sweaty before we exited the elevator, still, he didn’t remove it. He seemed to want to touch me constantly, knee to knee under the table, hand over mine when he led me to the dance floor, arms around me when we danced. It was like we were attached, always in contact with each other.
Other than the occasional glass of wine or champagne, I wasn’t much of a drinker, but that night I felt so relaxed and happy that I drank past my limit. Gavin, on the other hand, who usually drank as much as his fraternity brothers, stayed sober and took care of me. He was ever the gentleman, attentive, kind and loving, a side of him I hadn’t seen before, or maybe I’d never bothered to notice.
He asked the band to play, “Suzanne,” by Leonard Cohen and “I Can’t help myself, by the Four Tops.” When we finally danced the last dance, a slow, sensual pairing to, “Unchained Melody,” by the Righteous Brothers, I was in a trance. I thought I could feel Gavin’s hardness against my leg, but I was tipsy and oblivious. I imagined Rodney’s arms around me and pressed into Gavin. He seemed surprised by my forwardness, and pulled me closer. I let him.
After Gavin opened the door to the hotel suite, he lifted me and carried me into the room like a bride. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled under his chin pressing my lips against his neck. It seemed natural, like I’d been here before, I thought. He didn’t smell like Rodney, but I was too drunk to think about that.
Gavin took his time and was patient with me. He lay me on the bed and began to kiss my forehead, cheeks, chin, neck and shoulders. He gently slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders and breathed on my cleavage. He sat next to me and removed his jacket.
Looking back I realize he was giving me every opportunity to stop him. It was like he only wanted me if I really wanted him, too.
All the lights were on. The only sound was our breathing and the horns and sirens in the distance. We didn’t talk. I kept my eyes closed, He waited for me to stop him, but I didn’t. He held me all night. He was staring at me when I opened my eyes in the morning, the sunlight streaming in through the sides of the heavy, velvet drapes. I squinted, closed my eyes and, after a pause, opened them wide.
His arm was under my head and, when I lifted it to look at him, he didn’t take it away. He kissed me on the forehead. I pulled the soft, ivory sheet over my breasts, folding my arms across my chest as I sat up in the middle of th
e bed. He put both his hands behind his head, elbows spread over his pillow.
I looked at the grin on Gavin’s face and felt humiliated. I was naked. What had we done? Then I remembered. I thought I was making love to Rodney. Oh, God! I couldn’t look at Gavin. I gathered the sheet around me and slipped out of the bed, closing the bathroom door behind me. I leaned against the door and took a deep breath. I thought I heard Gavin chuckle and I felt my cheeks burn.
I took a shower, drank lots of water out of the faucet, brushed my teeth twice and emerged an hour later in the white Egyptian cotton bathrobe I found in the closet.
Gavin wasn’t in the bed. I walked into the living room just as the bellman left with a fist full of cash and closed the door behind him. I smelled the bacon and sausage before I saw the breakfast feast laid out on the dining table, a vase with at least a dozen white roses in the center. Gavin, dressed in jeans and a navy Polo shirt, walked up to me, kissed me on the cheek, put the palm of his hand in the small of my back and led me to the table.
He sure was handsome and his shirt matched his eyes. He didn’t speak. I was glad.
He pulled out a chair and I sat. He sat at the head, catty-corner from me and took my hand. He held it on the beige linen table cloth. The sweet smell of roses filled the room while breakfast aromas rose from below silver domed platters and the rich flavor of fresh brewed coffee seeped from the silver pot. I heard his breathing, or was it mine?
“Susie,” he whispered. I didn’t look up. He put his fingers under my chin and lifted it up. I kept my eyes downcast. “Please, look at me.” I lifted my lashes and looked at him out the tops of my eyes. I looked down again.
“Please,” he repeated.
I looked at him. Tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t help it. And I couldn’t explain it. It was too complicated.
“Please don’t cry. You are incredible. Last night ... well, thank you for last night.”
I couldn’t answer. Tears ran down my cheeks. I was so embarrassed. I’d never felt like this with Rodney, embarrassed, guilty as if I committed adultery, cheated on the man I loved. Gavin squeezed my hand.
“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asked.
“Tell me we didn’t have sex.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you that if it will help. But, Susie, I want to remember last night.”
“Well, I want to forget it,” I said. I got up and stormed out of the room and slammed the bedroom door. I could feel his eyes bore through the closed door as if he could drill a hole in it, reach inside and make me come back.
I didn’t want to see Gavin again, but, somehow, it got to be routine. It was easier than starting over with someone new. At least, with Gavin, everything was in the open.
When I went home with him for Christmas his parents fell all over me. When we returned to New York I saw a doctor and got a prescription for the birth control pill.
*
I graduated with honors, but no one from my family was there. I’d only seen them once in the three and one-half years I had been at Sarah Lawrence, so I didn’t miss them. But I still missed Rodney, who I hadn’t seen in almost two years and I missed Marianne. And Catfish. And Tootsie. Rodney and Marianne wrote to me, once a month or so and, every now and then, Rodney called. I never told Gavin about Rodney and, when Rodney and I talked, we didn’t mention our personal lives.
Gavin came to my graduation and looked handsome as ever in his preppy navy blazer complete with Yale emblem on the left pocket, red bow tie and grey slacks. I knew we made a striking couple—Gavin, the tall blond athlete with wide shoulders and a pedigree a mile long, and me, the mysterious redheaded Southern girl with a degree from a prestigious college.
When we entered the ballroom at the Plaza for my graduation ball, heads turned and flashbulbs lit up the room. I smiled as if I was the happiest girl in the world. Why shouldn’t I be? A gorgeous, wealthy, Yale graduate on my arm, a college degree from Sarah Lawrence, and a promising future in writing and publishing.
I knew Gavin’s parents had encouraged him to ask me to marry him. He hinted at it, but I let him know I was not ready to be asked. When I wrote home and told my parents about Gavin, I built him up so they would be proud of me. From the time I was a little girl, my mother told me I would go to college, not for a BA but for an MRS degree. Mama was proud that I had the promise of such an exploit accomplir. Better yet, I would live fifteen-hundred miles away from her.
Graduation night was a repeat performance of the KA formal at Christmas. Gavin and I spent it in one of the Plaza’s lavish hotel suites, but this time, he brought me breakfast in bed in the morning. There was a small gift, wrapped in white paper with a white satin bow and a Tiffany’s label on the bottom right corner sitting on the breakfast tray.
“Gavin, if this is what I think it is, I can’t open it, not yet. I’m not ready.”
“Open it, Beautiful. Don’t be afraid.” He sat next to me in the bed with his arm possessively over my shoulder. I looked at him and repeated my statement.
“I don’t want to open something I can’t accept and make you feel rejected. I’m just not ready.”
“Open it. Trust me.” I thought of how many times Rodney encouraged me to trust him and how he’d never let me down. It wasn’t fair to compare Gavin with Rodney, but who else could I use as an example of the kind of man I could trust with my future? I opened the gift slowly, looking up at Gavin periodically and asked, “Are you sure? Can I trust that this is not something that comes with a commitment?”
“Trust me, Susie,” he’d say. I wanted to believe he understood that, if it was an engagement ring, I would say, “No.”
When I flipped the lid of the black velvet case, I immediately snapped it shut.
No, Gavin couldn’t be trusted. He’d tried to trick me. Rodney would never do that. I handed the untouched gift to Gavin, got out of bed and went to the bathroom. When I closed the door, I knew I’d closed him out of my life for good.
I had applied to Harvard graduate school the previous fall and was accepted. I knew I would only be able to attend if they awarded me a full scholarship because Daddy refused to pay for further education, and, anyway, I was ready for my freedom. But Harvard’s offer only included tuition and books, no room and board. I spent several days in Boston looking for a job and was offered a part time position with a small publishing house. It wasn’t enough to cover living expenses so I took a second job waiting tables at an all-night diner.
I moved to Boston for the summer to see if I could make it work, financially, with the two jobs. Even with a roommate in a small, one-bedroom apartment, I had to work sixty hours a week to make ends meet and I knew I couldn’t continue at that pace and make decent grades in Grad School at Harvard. In addition, I was terrible at waiting tables and quit that job within two weeks. By the first of June I knew it wouldn’t work.
Chapter Seventeen
Jean Ville Summer
1971
RODNEY TOLD ME HE was too busy to realize we hadn’t spoken or written in months. Neither of us sent cards or letters of congratulations to each other in May. We’d both gone on with our lives and I thought that’s how it should be. The craziness needed to be over and it felt like it was.
Rod said that after graduation he became obsessed with getting in touch with me. He wondered what I was doing that summer. Perhaps he could take a train to New York after summer school. He told me that he suddenly felt a burning desire to see me, although, to me, the timing seemed strange. He said he went to the pay phone in the lobby of his dorm and called.
“The number you have called has been disconnected ...” He said he tried the number again, maybe he dialed wrong. “The number you have called ...” He couldn’t imagine that I might have left New York after graduation without calling or writing him to say where I would be. But then, he thought, we hadn’t spoken in, how long? He hadn’t heard from me since, when?
He said he went to his room and pulled out
the box of letters he’d saved. He flipped through them to find the most recent.
Marianne told me he called her, frantically searching for me. He knew she and I stayed in touch. He told her he wanted to shoot himself for being so neglectful of the woman he loved, even if we had decided it was over between us and he was dealing with the, “Annette Issue.” Marianne told me that for Rodney, it would never be over between us.
Tootsie answered the phone and said Marianne was at the hospital. She’d finished nursing school the year before and was working at Jean Ville General. She said she loved her job and was saving money to go to Our Lady of the Lake Nursing School in Baton Rouge to become a Registered Nurse. I remembered all the pets and birds she lovingly brought back to health and knew she was probably the best nurse ever.
“Have you heard from Susie?” Rodney asked Tootsie.
“Well, shore, Rod,” she said. “Susie got home Monday. She was going to stay in Boston for the summer, but things didn’t work out.”
“Boston?”
“Oh, didn’t she tell you? She was going to Harvard. They accepted her and all, but she couldn’t get a job to pay for school.”
“Harvard?” I knew that would be news to him. I could visualize him rubbing his forehead with his free hand.
“Yep. She’s trying some other schools. I think she said graduation schools.”
“Graduate schools?”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s what she said. Graduation schools.”
“How long will she be in Jean Ville?’
“Not sure. Until she gets in one of them schools, I suppose. She got a job at the hospital for the summer.”
“Jean Ville General?”
“Yeah. Her daddy got her on with the man what runs it.”
“The Administrator? Mr. Michel?”
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