Thinking these things, I almost decided against putting on the new dress, but when I did, I looked so good in it that I was determined to challenge Papa if he should disapprove. I waited as long as I could before going downstairs, and I did put on my trench coat first. Papa had been sure to get home from work in time to meet Evan. He was sitting in the living room reading the Wall Street Journal when I came down. Mama was in the kitchen. If Evan was on time, I thought, he would be there within five minutes. Please be on time, I prayed.
“Oh, you look so nice,” Mama said, hurrying to see me.
“How can you tell? She’s wearing that coat,” Papa said.
Mama could see I was wearing the new dress and quickly figured out why I was being so cautious. “I mean her hair, her face, Norton. Can’t you give your beautiful daughter a compliment?” she asked, putting him on the defensive immediately. I knew Mama’s strategy. “Young girls are very sensitive and need some confidence building.”
“What? No. I mean, of course. Yes, you’re beautiful, Emmie. I didn’t mean . . .”
The doorbell rang. I sighed with relief.
“That must be your young man,” Mama said. She went to the door quickly. Papa looked at the hallway in anticipation.
“Bonsoir, I’m Evan Styles,” Evan said to my mother.
“Bonsoir. Bienvenu,” Mama said.
Evan stepped in and saw me. “Bonsoir, Emmie. Comment allez-vous?”
Impatient, Papa rose and came to the living-room doorway. “So, this is the young man trying to learn French?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Evan said. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilcox.” Evan extended his hand and then looked at me. “Or should I say, enchanté?”
Papa relaxed his shoulders and shook Evan’s hand. I should have warned Evan about his handshake. It was extra firm, almost to the point of causing a little pain. Evan didn’t blink, however.
He was wearing the tie he promised he’d wear. He looked very handsome and sweet.
Papa put his hands on his hips, taking on that drill-sergeant demeanor. “I don’t want her out past midnight,” he said.
“Zero hundred hours, sir. I understand.”
Papa didn’t smile. He glanced at me and then at Mama. “We don’t go by military time, son,” he said. “Midnight is just midnight.”
“I understand,” Evan said. For a moment, I held my breath. He looked as if he might salute, and I knew Papa wouldn’t find that at all funny. Thankfully, he didn’t.
“Well you two have a wonderful time,” Mama said.
“Un merveilleux temps,” Evan said, his eyes twinkling when he looked at me.
“Très bon,” Mama said. “Yes, have a wonderful time.”
Papa still hadn’t cracked a smile. “Be careful,” he told me, and returned to his chair and his paper.
Mama gave me a kiss, and I walked out with Evan.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re not on military time, but I bet your father’s on guard duty tonight. I hope you remember the password to get back in.”
“I do. It’s ‘I’m home,’ ” I said, and he laughed.
We hurried to the corner, where he flagged a taxi. I took a deep breath when he opened the door for me.
I’m on my first date, I thought, and then I suddenly wondered if Roxy had ever had a formal first date or if she simply met boys places without telling Papa and Mama. I had no idea why that would make a difference to me now, but it did.
It was almost as if I wanted to be very sure that I didn’t do anything she had done.
That way, Papa would go on loving me forever, and I’d never end up without a family, living in a hotel, whether I was pampered and beautiful or not.
Loneliness, after all, hunts especially for the hearts of orphans.
6
I had no way to judge my first date with a boy, but to me, it seemed as if every moment that passed was better than the previous one. When I took off my trench coat in the restaurant, Evan’s eyes widened, and a big smile rippled across his face.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s a beautiful dress, but it’s only beautiful because you’re wearing it,” he quickly followed.
I blushed so deeply it made me tremble. “Thank you.”
I slipped into the booth quickly. For a moment, he just stood there looking at me.
“What’s that line they use in the movies?” he asked as he sat across from me. “Where have you been all my life?”
He was so good at these compliments that I began to worry that maybe Chastity was right. If there was one thing I didn’t want to be, it was gullible. Girls had to navigate a fine line, I thought. It was wonderful to have these nice things said about you, but how deep did sincerity go in them? Should they sound warnings? Should I graciously accept them or flick them off as if they were so much sparkle? I didn’t want to offend him, but I didn’t want to appear naïve, either.
“I was always just down the hall, Evan.”
“Yeah. Well, it serves me right for not looking in more than one direction.”
The waitress brought us menus, and we ordered soft drinks.
“I have a confession to make,” he said as he read the menu.
“So soon?”
He laughed. “Not that sort of confession. You know Buzzy Gibson? He’s a junior.”
“I don’t really know him.”
“Well, he was the one who told me to check you out. He’s going with Missy Wagner, otherwise you might be sitting here across from him tonight.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t know him, but I know who he is. I mean . . .”
“He’s not your type? Girls make that decision quickly, I hear. At least, they do when it comes to who is definitely not their type.”
“Maybe. I don’t think I can speak for all girls, even most. I can only speak for myself.”
He widened his eyes. What I said obviously impressed him.
The waitress brought our drinks.
“I think I’ll have the chicken salad,” I told her.
“La même chose,” Evan said.
“Pardon?”
“He means the same thing,” I told her. She shrugged and wrote it down. “You pronounced that very well,” I said.
“Another confession,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I spent most of the afternoon memorizing some common French expressions just to impress you. It can’t hurt my grade in class, either, I guess.”
“If you learn everything yourself, I won’t be able to help,” I teased.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll need your help for years.”
I smiled and sipped my soda. The waitress brought us some bread and butter. I finally looked around the restaurant. It wasn’t very big or expensive-looking, but it wasn’t a fast-food place, either.
“Have you been here often?”
“I suppose,” he said. “My father likes places like this. He calls them unassuming and places where you can talk to real people, whoever they are.”
“Maybe he just means people who aren’t phonies.”
“You mean like plastic socialites?”
I shrugged. “Is your father going to run for some office?” I asked.
“Probably. Actually,” he said, “it’s supposed to be a secret, but the mayor is working on getting him the nomination for congressman, but if he’s elected, we’re not moving to Washington, D.C. New York is close enough.”
“Now it’s no longer a secret,” I said.
“Somehow, I feel I can trust you.”
“Why?” I asked, really curious.
“It’s in your eyes. You’re the type of person who hates telling lies or hurting someone else’s feelings. Am I wrong?”
I shook my head, but I wanted to tell him it wasn’t wise to believe in someone’s goodness too soon. Did older boys, especially boys like him who came from wealthy, famous families, appreciate advice from someone like me? If he was too arrogant to accept good advice no matter what the sou
rce of it, he wasn’t for me, I thought. Not my type, I told myself. I couldn’t help the small smile on my lips, but he didn’t seem to notice.
The waitress brought our platters, and we started to eat. He talked more about his family, especially his sister. He was very proud of her. She had been her high school’s valedictorian and was on the dean’s list at college. He said her plan was to go to Harvard Law School and become editor of the Law Review.
“I guess I have some impressive footsteps to follow,” he said.
I admired the relationship he apparently had with his sister. I think he saw that in my face when he finished talking about her.
“What’s it like being an only child?” he asked. “Are you spoiled?”
“Hardly,” I said, and described my responsibilities at home, my father’s military style, and my efforts always to please him. “I mean, I love him dearly,” I said. “But as you know, he is the son of an Army general.”
Evan smiled. “I’m glad my suspicions about you were correct,” he said.
“What were they?”
“Simply that you’d be great to talk to, someone who was sincere, honest, and sweet.”
More wonderful compliments, I thought. They made me nervous. Again, I wondered if most girls would be grateful and leave it at that. Was it good or bad that I had such distrust? Roxy surely knew how to handle men. Wouldn’t it have been great to have had a relationship with an older, more experienced sister? There was only so much I felt comfortable asking my mother. I couldn’t simply shake off all of my father’s warnings. Was it really that dangerous simply to put all your trust in your own feelings?
“Shouldn’t we get going for the movie?” I asked. His compliments were beginning to make me feel a little uncomfortable, anyway, especially since I wasn’t being completely honest, letting him believe I was an only child.
“Right.” He signaled for the waitress. “I hope that was all right,” he said, referring to the restaurant, when we left.
“Oh, it was perfect. Thank you.”
He held my hand, and we hurried up the street and then crossed to the movie theater.
It was a very interesting French movie, entitled Illusion. It was about a young woman who thought she had fallen in love with a ghost, because when he disappeared and she went looking for him, she was told he had been killed in an automobile accident years before she had met him. Later, she discovered she had been having a romance with his twin brother, whom no one knew existed.
“How was the translation, the subtitles?” Evan asked when we were leaving.
“Just okay,” I said. “There were quite a few places where I thought non-French-speaking people were not given enough or exactly the right expression.”
“It must be something to be able to speak and read two languages like you do.”
“My mother can speak English, French, Italian, and Spanish.”
“Just like many of those people I met when we were in France,” he said. He checked his watch. “We can try walking back. We have close to an hour and ten minutes.”
“Okay,” I said. He took my hand. “Do you think your parents would let you come over to my house for dinner tomorrow night? My parents would send a car for you.”
“Send a car?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, making it sound like nothing.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.”
“Well, maybe if I get you home before midnight, your father would let you off the base again, give you another liberty pass or something.”
“He’s not that bad,” I said, laughing.
Suddenly, he stopped walking. We had not gone very far, so I thought he had decided to hail a taxi, but instead, he turned to me and brought his lips to mine. It wasn’t a long kiss, but his lips were so warm and soft I felt myself stirring.
“I thought I would do that now,” he said.
“What? Why?”
We were still in a very busy section, and many people hurrying along paused to look at us.
“So that later, when we’re at your front door, it won’t be such a big deal to kiss you good night.”
“Well, I hope it’s still a big deal,” I said.
“No, I don’t mean that. All the little tension won’t be there now.”
“I didn’t expect it to be there later, either.”
He laughed. “Man, I do like you, Emmie. As my father would say, you’re as full of surprises as a box of Cracker Jacks.”
We walked on, talking about the school, our friends, and things we would both like to do. When I had first agreed to go on the date with him, I was afraid we would have very little to talk about, since we had such different backgrounds and he was older, but it didn’t take long for me to feel as if we had known each other a long time. If there really was something called positive energy, I was feeling it now. I think we were both disappointed when we reached my block. Both of us slowed down. He looked at his watch.
“We still have fifteen minutes,” he said. “I think it would be sinful to give up any one of them by bringing you home early.”
“On the other hand, my father will be impressed.”
“I suppose,” he said reluctantly.
It was very quiet on the street, with only a pedestrian here and there and little car traffic. Evan paused and kissed me again. He held on to me, keeping his face close.
“I really like you, Emmie,” he said. “I’ve never had as good a time on a first date or anything.”
“I like you, too,” I said, and we kissed again.
Neither of us spoke until we reached my front door. He looked at his watch. “Seven more minutes.”
“You can be sure my father’s watching the clock,” I said.
He nodded, gave me another kiss, and started away. “I’ll call you in the morning, hoping you can come to dinner,” he said.
“Okay.” I waved and stood there for a moment, watching him hurry to the corner to flag down a taxi. Then I went inside. Papa was waiting up in the living room. He was watching a late news show.
“Cutting it close,” he said, nodding at the miniature grandfather clock on the mantel.
“We decided to walk back. It’s so nice out, Papa.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s not lazy.”
“Oh, no. He was the one who suggested it.”
“Where did he take you to eat?” he asked, his voice softening.
I told him and described the restaurant.
“Sounds sensible.”
“He said his father likes to go there.”
“That so?” He flipped off the television and stood. “Sounds like you had a good time, then.”
“Yes, I did. He asked me to dinner at his house tomorrow night. He said his parents would send a car for me.”
“Really?” He looked thoughtful.
“Can I say yes?”
“Let me sleep on it,” he said. Then he did something he had never done. He smiled and said, “Your sister never asked permission for anything. She just did what she wanted.”
I held my breath. Would he say anything more, tell me anything more about her?
“Did you tell him about her?”
“No, Papa. No one at school but Chastity knows about her, remember?”
“Just wanted to be sure,” he said. “Let’s go to sleep. Your mother went to sleep an hour ago. I thought mothers were supposed to be the ones waiting up. That’s the French for you,” he added, smiling again. He put his arm around me, and we walked upstairs together. At my bedroom door, he kissed me good night and said, “Maybe we’ll sleep in a little tomorrow morning. I could use more sleep these days.”
“Aren’t you feeling well?”
“Yes, sure. I’m just at it a little too much these days. I’ll slow down,” he said, sounding like someone trying to convince himself.
I watched him walk to his and Mama’s bedroom. His habitually perfect posture wasn’t there. He was slouching as if he suddenly had a great weight on his shoulders. I don’t k
now why such a small thing bothered me, but it did. I even felt tears coming into my eyes.
I guess getting older meant realizing your parents wouldn’t be young forever. We were all in such a rush to be older. We never really gave much thought to what that meant for our parents. Papa had told me once that even though his father and he didn’t get along all that well, and even though his father never forgave him for not making a career in the Army, one of the saddest days of his life was the day his father retired.
“My old man was an old man,” he had said. “All that spit and polish that had kept the wear and tear hidden was gone. He looked a lot smaller to me, too, when he was out of uniform. I congratulated him just like everyone else, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to celebrate the beginning of the end for him, and I knew how empty his life was going to be without his precious Army duties.
“But that’s the way it is,” he’d quickly concluded, maybe because he realized he was being a little too sentimental for a tough guy.
I hadn’t said anything. I just hugged him. He kissed me on the forehead and held me longer than he ever had. And I held on to him, because even at that young age, I knew there would be a time when he would no longer be there to hold me. I mean, I always knew that. It just wasn’t something young children permit in their world of thoughts. Everyone else’s parents could die, but not yours.
My memories of my night with Evan quickly overcame my moment of sadness. I was eager to get to bed just so I could lie there and recall every second, especially every kiss, every touch. When I closed my eyes, I saw his eyes vividly. He was there under my eyelids. I tried to remember every word he said, too. It was as if I had a video recording and could play the whole evening back by just pressing my eyelids closed. It turned out to be one of the most contented nights of sleep I ever had.
Mama was really surprised at breakfast when the first thing Papa said to me was, “Okay, you can go.”
“Go where?”
“She was asked to the Styleses’ house for dinner tonight,” he said, sounding proud that he knew before she did. “They’re sending a car for her.”
Forbidden Sister Page 7
