“A nice fire,” she called.
“I used to be a Boy Scout.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Wasn’t the water grand?”
“No,” he shouted.
“It was, too,” and he could picture her eyes sparking with challenge again.
“Why don’t you spread the food?” he called.
“I want to toast for a while.”
“Drink one for me.”
“I meant at the fire, stupid.”
He came out of the bedroom. “Who’s stupid?” He stood with his hands on his hips, the khakis large for him.
“You look nice,” she said.
He looked at her then. Her legs were spread toward the fire, the robe exposing them where it fell open. “You do, too.” She pulled the robe closed, and her eyes turned to him, and there was no embarrassment in them, only a mute question.
“Shall I get the food?” she asked softly.
“If you want.”
She rose quickly, and the robe fell open, and she clutched at it and said, “Oh, goddamn this thing!”
“Take my belt,” he said.
“Your pants’ll fall down.”
“Take it.”
He pulled the belt through the loops and handed it to her. She took the belt and began wrapping it around her waist. The belt slid from her fingers, and she reached down for it, and he saw that her hand was trembling. Her hair cascaded over her face as she bent, hiding her face and her neck, and the open robe where her skin lay naked. Her fingers closed on the belt, and then she lifted her face and tossed her head back, and the hair lifted like a silken black curtain, and her breasts stood firm and erect in the opening of the robe, and he looked at her curiously, and then their eyes met, and there was nothing in them now but puzzlement and something else, something he could not identify because he had never seen it in her eyes before.
“Buddy,” she said, looking up at him, not touching the robe. “I’m frightened.”
He went to her and caught her gently by the shoulders, pulling her erect. He bent down and picked her up then, and she pressed her head into his shoulder, and her hair was still wet from the ocean. Her lips touched the side of his neck, and she could taste the salt on his skin, and she shivered again and said, “I’m frightened,” and he answered, “No, no, don’t be, darling,” and he carried her to the other room.
He would never forget her eyes: alert with fear at first, the pupils almost black against a narrow rim of green. The fear gradually leaving them, the lids softly closing, opening occasionally. The green turning a softer shade now, a pale jade, the eyes seeming more Oriental as a smoky opalescence claimed them. The spark of sudden passion, with the black eyebrows swooping down like earth-bound hawks, a deeper jade, a denser green, the green of a jungle, and her fingernails raking his back, and her eyes narrowing, narrowing, waiting, apprehensive, and the sudden shocking star-shell explosion of green stabbed with yellow, the hollow scream in the small room, the eyes filming, and the tears Hooding them, covering the green, spilling down her cheeks, and then the faint shaking of her head, her arms holding him tighter, her eyes adjusting to shock and pain, her teeth clenched, her eyes clenched too, closed tightly shut in excruciating agony, her head continuing to shake and nod alternately, bearing the pain and the shock with more than patience, more than willingness, the agony fleeing for an instant as her eyes reassured him, and reassured him again, and then the sudden unclenching, her head back on the pillow now, “I love you, Bud, I love you, Bud,” the light film of sweat on her upper lip, her eyes brilliant, patient now, unsatisfied but content, alert and awake to every sight, darting with every sound in the room, the distant breakers on the beach.
“I’m sorry, Helen,” he said.
“No, please.” Her eyes were warm and wide with sudden pleading. “I wanted it this way, Bud. I wanted it.”
“I love you, Helen,” he said, and she pulled him close to her, his head cradled on her breasts, and said, as she had said a long while before, “I know.”
She called her parents after they had eaten. She said the girls had decided to stay overnight, and she would be home sometime tomorrow afternoon, and would that be all right? Her father had staunchly upheld a righteous dignity in complaining about young girls who spent the night alone at a cottage on the beach, but her mother said, Yes, dear, it’s all right. Are there enough blankets?
They drove back to Brooklyn late on Sunday afternoon. She sat close to him on the seat of the old Chewy, and he looked at her face often, and her eyes were filled with deep womanly contentment.
15
second chorus, iv
MAY-SEPTEMBER, 1944
They walked home from the club together, hand in hand, idly chatting. It was a wonderful May night, with a mild breeze on the air, a canopy of stars in the near-moonless sky overhead. When they passed beneath the shade of a heavy maple, the area of sidewalk was suddenly thrown into complete darkness. Andy stopped, holding Carol’s hand so that she stopped, too. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, holding the kiss so long that she finally pulled away gasping.
“I’ve got to get home,” she said breathlessly.
“What’s the hurry?” He tightened his arms around her again, kissing her firmly. She was wearing a sweater, and he felt the warmth of her body through the wool. His fingers strayed up to her breast, and she clamped her hand onto his and pulled it away, a scolding, smiling look on her face when she looked up at him.
“Now, no,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I say so.”
She reached up to peck him on the cheek, to show him her scolding was a thing of necessity, to show him she really liked him even if he did have wandering hands. Andy pulled her close and turned the light peck into a production number.
“Andy,” she said more sternly, pulling her mouth and his hands away. “Now, stop it.”
“Carol—”
“Just stop it,” she said severely.
“Carol,” he said awkwardly, “I love you.”
“Andy, Andy,” she said, cupping his face tenderly. “I know, Andy, but really we can’t just—”
“Carol,” he said again, kissing her, his hands roaming wildly over her back, finally seeking her breasts again, cupping her breasts until she pulled away from him angrily.
“I want to go home,” she said.
“All right,” he answered, the excitement still raging within him, his veins gorged with blood. “All right, Carol. Carol, I’m sorry, I...”
She had already begun walking. He caught up with her, and they strolled in silence to her house. He could not put down the excitement. He was trembling with the fever of it.