Most summers during high school I counted the days until September. School seemed easy compared to the "iron man" hours of stock work in the cellar of a boardwalk store. But when the August after junior year was ending, I knew already that was the best summer I ever had, or would. Once college started, a summer at an usher's pay just wouldn't work. But for me, being an usher was the best job on the planet otherwise because--good or bad--I love watching movies, especially seeing the same movie several times. Getting some money for it helps, too. It wouldn't be enough to carry me through nine months of studying, though. And I'd be old enough by next summer for a boardwalk-front job, probably in some dumb wheel. Although a level up from doing stock work, I was thinking of busboying instead. The hours were as good as ushering, but for all the abuse your back has to take, the money's better. The other reason I liked that summer better than any I've been through--even the ones off from grade school, when I didn't have to work--was Suzanne, a girl it took me about a second and a half to fall in love with. Even now, the empty hurt of knowing I'll never see her again makes me want to tear out my heart and throw it at the wall.
I know I won't see Suzanne again because of where she's from. The worst thing about meeting girls down the shore is they're never from anywhere near your hometown. It's always a city you never heard of in some other state. But Suzanne is from another country. When she told me Canada, I stupidly asked, "The country?" like I thought she might have meant a small town in upstate New York.
That was one of the first things we said to each other. And in the same instant I was falling in love, I was already dreading September.
"How long are you down for?"
"For two weeks more," Suzanne answered, "until September two, the second." Not until she corrected herself did I realize Suzanne had a French-Canadian accent. Once I took to the rhythm of her English, it was tough concentrating on its content, or anything esle.
But I wouldn't have met her if not for Gary, who had already talked to Suzanne and her sister when he collected their tickets at the lobby entrance. I was in the manager's office because he was warning me again about the two exits on either side of the screen. One leads to the boardwalk ramp; the other goes under the boardwalk. Between shows sometimes, kids go down and open the doors for friends waiting outside. When all three ushers are on, one of us stays down front during the trailers to keep watch on the doors. But it was Tim's night off and when Gary said he wanted to collect tickets, I headed down to stand guard near the screen. But the manager curled a finger at me, so I walked into his office instead.
When I stepped out of Mr. Bernardi's office, Suzanne met me with "You are John?"
"Yeah," I answered, suspicious about how she knew my name until I glanced over to Gary, who was signaling like a man possessed. He stopped when the sisters turned to him.
"Your friend said we should talk with you," Suzanne's sister said.
I looked at Gary again and had trouble figuring out what all his wild gestures meant. He was pointing at himself and Suzanne's sister, then me and Suzanne, then making diving motions with both hands and walking motions with two fingers. The girls glanced from my puzzled face, to Gary, then at me again--and began to laugh.
"He wants you to ask us to the beach tomorrow," Suzanne's sister explained.
"What a good idea!" I said. "How would you ladies like to go to the beach with us tomorrow?"
"What a good idea," Suzanne said.
Then I asked where they were staying and for how long and made the stupid remark about Canada. The country? Oh, please! When they walked down to find seats, I walked over to Gary to tell him we were meeting them on their beach at eleven.
"All right!" he said, with accompanying fist wave. "Can you believe those two, John? I just had to talk to them." He ripped two ticket in half and handed the stubs to the man. I had to move so the couple could get into the theater.
"This is crazy," I said. "In two weeks we'll never see them again."
"Who cares?" Gary said. "We've got two whole weeks!"
"I'm going down to the doors. Mr B is--"
"The taller one likes you," Gary called after me.
"Why?" I called back, "because you like the smaller one?" Gary laughed and as Mr. Bernardi came out of his office, he gave us his old, cold stare.
The next morning I got to Gary's room a little after ten. He was still asleep when I knocked on the window.
"What are you still doing in bed, you asshole?"
"Good morning to you, too."
"Shit, Gar. You're unbelievable!"
"Relax, pal. I only need to throw on my swimmies and find my towel. Come on in."
By the time I walked around to the front of the rooming house and down the hall to Gary's room, he was in his bathing suit hunting through mounds of old and new wash.
"You bring an extra beach towel, by any chance? I can't seem-- Ah-hah!" Gary jerked at something in the pile on the bureau and ended up with a large yellow and orange towel in his fist as we watched a wave of clothing cascade onto the chair and floor.
"All set," Gary chanted in victory. "Let's go meet some g-g-gir-r-rls." It was hard to believe just five minutes before he was sound asleep.
When we got outside, Gary asked, "Where is their beach, anyhow?"
"In the Crest."
"A long walk?"
"Not so bad," I said. "About ten blocks past the end of the boardwalk."
"Ten blocks!"
"Relax. They're short blocks. Besides, these girls are worth the walk, ain't they?"
"Tell me about it," Gary said. "Know what the shorter one's name is?"
"No, I only caught Suzanne's."
"Italia!"
"I bet you fell in love right then."
"My heart was beating visibly," Gary confided. "They're sisters, you know?"
"You're kidding? They look less alike than we do."
"No kidding."
"I wonder if they're down here with their family. Did you asked them?"
"No," Gary answered. "God, I hope not."
It was Italia who noticed us first as we walked along the shoreline scanning the crowd for two girls. The blanket she waved from had six people on and around it.
Gary waved back to her as he said out of my side of his mouth, "Oh boy, we get to meet their whole family, John." That's why Gary was good to have around. He could take the intensity out of a situation and make me want to laugh instead of panic. Like back in June, when a seagull flew into the ladies room somehow. The only window it has opens onto a ramp near the boardwalk, but it's jalousied. The seagull had to want to get in there. Gary started laughing when a middle-aged lady came out and told him about it. So she went to Mr. Bernardi's office, and he got me to get it out. It wasn't as tough as I expected. The gull was scared mean, but it seemed unable to fly. He was just huddled in the last booth, between the trashcan and the toilet. I threw a cloth over him, then got him in both hands. Since the ladies room was the farthest door from the entrance, I had to walk the gull across the lobby to take it out to the beach. Fortunately, it was about twenty minutes into the movie when the old lady told our manager about the bird, so the lobby was almost clear. When Mr. Bernardi went back into his office and I walked by Tim and Gary, they started clapping and cheering. So I ran at them with the seagull, saying "Peck 'em, boy!" When I returned from the beach, Tim asked where I let the seagull go. Gary only asked if I found anything really interesting in the girls room, so I told him about each booth having its own trashcan.
Mr. and Mrs. Cordonet looked in their late thirties or early forties, so I guessed Suzanne and Italia were their two oldest. They had a younger brother about fourteen, and the youngest seemed around ten, but that little girl was already adorable to stay. The brother was wearing bikini trunks with a line of maple leaves down the outside of each leg seam. I lay out in my parents' yard in a bikini, but I'd feel like I was in my underwear if I dressed that way for the beach. At least their father had on a real bathing suit--trunks, real and red and blue.
He reached for my hand first as Suzanne said, "Daddy, Mom, this is John Hunt."
"Hello, John." When he grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes, I fleetingly detected a look I'd gotten from fathers before and since. Right from the start, it isn't very positive. While the mother is still trying to see what her daughter sees in you, the father's beyond that, sizing you up for trouble. It's the look that says, "Okay, my daughter picked you. But if you're looking for trouble, I'm going to hunt you down and be more trouble than you counted on."
"Good morning," I said, leaving go of his fist.
"Good morning, John," the mother said, rising from the blanket, shading her eyes with a hand.
Italia introduced Gary to the parents and when she said "Marino," the mother said, "Italiano?" and smiled.
"Yeah," Gary said. "Well, not me. My grandparents."
"Are from where?" Mrs. Cordonet seemed genuinely curious.
"Around Milan, I think," Gary answered. Mrs. Cordonet laughed.
"My mother was born in Genoa," Italia explained. "She named me, of course."
Then Suzanne said, "This little man is François and the runt is Sylvie." Suzanne's accent really made "little man" sound complimentary and "runt" insulting.
Sylvie did not understand or like that description and complained something in French. The Cordonets laughed.
Mrs. Cordonet said something to Sylvie and even though I didn't follow it, I said, "That wasn't French."
"Italian," Gary said.
"We are going for a walk," Suzanne told her parents in English.
"Will you leave your things here?" Mr. Cordonet asked in French.
"Yes. We'll be back before you go."
"Let me take that for you," Mrs. Cordonet said to Gary as she placed his crumpled towel on their blanket. "Have fun."
"See you later," Mr. Cordonet said.
As we headed back in the direction Gary and I had just walked, I said to Suzanne, "Your family speaks three languages at home? I feel so ignorant."
"The English we have all the time in school," Suzanne said.
"That's right," I said. "Quebec's the only French province."
"And Italian we don't speak much," Italia said. "Just for fun, just to tease."
"What part of Quebec are you from?" Gary asked.
"Montreal?" I guessed.
"A little down from there," Suzanne said. "Iberville."
"Iberville," Gary said, and the sisters laughed at his pronunciation. "Is it a suburb?"
"Suburb?" Italia said, trying to recall the word.
"Iberville is as near to Montreal as to New York and Vermont," Suzanne explained. "You are from where?"
"We're both from Philadelphia," I said. "You live near the country's border, then?"
"Ah," Italia said, "Philly." It sounded strange hearing its familiar nickname in a foreign accent and Gary and I laughed.
The week that followed went quickly, with Gary and me seeing Italia and Suzanne as often as we could. When Tim was late man, Gary and I got out early enough to go over to the Cordonet's apartment and talk on their porch until the girls were called to bed. The weather stayed good the whole week and we went to the beach everyday, except the day we went deep-sea fishing. That was Gary's idea, so he felt miserable too when Italia got seasick and had to lay in the cabin for two hours until the color returned to her face. We spent another day on the beach with the Cordonets and I helped François and Sylvie build a massive castle with moat on the shoreline. Gary surprised Mr. Cordonet with a six pack of Molson Golden. He handed the cooler to Mr. Cordonet saying, "I thought this was the best thing that ever came from Canada until I met Italia." Mr. Cordonet didn't know how to react to that, but as he opened an ale his wife flashed a conspirator's wicked smile at Gary.
Another day we were wrestling in the water with the girls seated on our shoulders. It was a good mix of fun and competition because we were so evenly matched. Suzanne and I had a height advantage, but since Gary was stronger than I and Italia lighter than Suzanne, neither team managed to topple the other by the time the lifeguards whistled and waved to us to stop.
"Too bad we don't have a car," I said. "Down at the end of the island there are no lifeguards."
"Ask Dad for the car," Italia said to Suzanne.
"Think he'll let me drive it?" Gary said.
"I drive!" Suzanne said.
"You do?" I said. "Cool. I never went out with a girl who drives."
As Suzanne drove us to and from Diamond Beach, I rested my hand lightly on her leg. I could tell when she moved from the gas pedal to the brake by the way her thigh muscles twitched under my palm. We rented surfboards there and fell off them all afternoon, nearly hospitalizing each other and the strangers trying to surf around us.
The first time all four of us were not together was on Gary's night off, Tuesday. That's the night I work latest because I go around to the theaters where new features are starting Wednesday changing marquees with two ushers from the Shore Twins. Then Wednesday is my night off. When I woke Gary for the beach by knocking on his window Wednesday morning, he told me about his date with Italia.
"We went on the boardwalk and did all the shit tourists do. Went on rides. She loved the rides. Threw darts at balloons. It was great."
"Did you bring her back here?" I couldn't help asking.
"I wanted to," Gary said, "but I couldn't ask her, you know? Where are you taking Suzanne tonight?"
"Probably just on the boards."
"You want my room key?" Gary smiled.
"I don't think so."
That night Suzanne and I were alone for the first time. I walked the boardwalk slower than I ever have. I enjoyed being with someone who could make me forget my legs were walking. She asked me about ushering and said she thought the suit looked impressive.
"Impressive? You must be kidding. The pants are two inches too short and the coat is about seven sizes too big. It's my own fault for getting last pick. It's the best job I ever had, though. You can't really pay attention to the beginnings and ends of the movies, but once the crowd settles in, we just sit and watch."
"Don't you get tired of the same movie again and again?"
"No, but Tim and Gary do. A lot of times they mouth the words along with the actors. You ought to see them do a love scene. It's so funny. But I always notice something different each time, like little jump cuts or something going on in the background with the extras. I get into it, but doing the marquees is my favorite job."
"Why?" Suzanne asked. And the way she looked into my eyes no matter where I was looking made me think she was really interested, not just making small talk to keep the conversation going.
"While we're putting up the words, people walking by always try to guess what the coming movie is. They always holler up dumb shit or ask stupid questions. And last night I was almost killed. That was exciting."
"Killed?" Suzanne's eyes got wide as her eyebrows disappeared into her hair.
"Tom was up on the boom and just finished the left side of the marquee. I was down setting the letters for the right. As Mike wheeled the boom to the right, I heard Tom yell, 'Heads up, John!' I jumped back and a foot of neon tube that the boom chipped off smashed on the ground right where my head just was."
"What did you do?"
"After thanking God to be alive, I went off on Mike. But the more I screamed, the more Tom and Mike laughed. They're a couple of morons sometimes. I'm glad I only work with them once a week. But Gary and Tim are morons sometimes, too. And I have to work with them--"
"I did not meet Tim."
"That's right," I said. "He was off the night you and Italia came up. The new Paul Newman movie is starting there tonight. Do you want to see it?"
"Now?"
"No. Come up tomorrow. If you stand by the exit ramp, whoever is working the doors'll let you in."
"You will not get in trouble?"
"Nah. You can even bring François and Sylvie. I think it's rated PG."
"Tomorrow?"
"It'll be all right," I said. "If you wait until the weekend, it will be too crowded. Come on. Tim wants to meet you. Be on the ramp around seven-thirty, okay?"
"Are you sure?"
"We've done it before. Don't worry. We won't get in trouble."
The following night Gary worked the lobby with the dustpan and broom, Tim collected the tickets, and I guarded the screen exits. At 7:30 I went through the curtain and pushed open the doors to the right of the screen. A few people were going up to the boardwalk, but no Cordonets were in sight. Five minutes later, I went out again, then checked the other exit. Still, they were not there. When I got back into the theater, the projectionist flicked the house lights, meaning the trailers were going to start.
Gary was coming down the aisle toward me, dustpan and broom in hand, with the girls behind him. Coming attractions had started, so Gary whispered, "I thought you told them down here?"
"I did," I said, looking at Suzanne.
"We can pay," Suzanne whispered. "It is silly to take the chance."
"What chance?" Gary asked.
Suzanne and Italia found seats as Gary and I walked back up to the lobby.
"Can you figure that out, John?"
"Got me."
"You guys really lucked out there." Tim was impressed. "I nearly drooled on their tickets, then Gary introduced them as your girls. Do they have another sister?"
"As a matt--" Gary started to say. "Nah, Sylvie's a little too mature for him, don't you think, John?"
I laughed, then said to Tim, "You're married, anyhow. How would Sharon like it?" Tim and Sharon had been dating for four years, since they were about twelve. But they fought and made up more than any couple I ever knew. Even so, Tim spent most of his time off with her. That's why Gary and I always kidded him about being married.
"Hey, I didn't gouge out my eyes when I started dating her. Besides, what she doesn't find out won't hurt her, right?"
"Won't hurt you, you mean," Gary laughed.
"Get away from me," Tim said. "I got work to do." As he continued collecting tickets from those straggling in late, Gary and I went in to watch Paul Newman.
Our final week with Suzanne and Italia wasn't as good as the first. The change was subtle, but the newness died away to uncomfortable pockets of silence. It was the last week of August and the summer was dying away, too. Once the end was near, we started forcing and stealing time, which made being together a distracted strain. We did a lot of the same things we'd done the first week, but our enjoyment wasn't as pure. Though we tried not to let thoughts of the last good-by spoil our time remaining, as each day slipped away The End became an almost visible enemy. We wanted to fall in love, but knew the coming separation would feel as bad as the love felt good. I thought Gary was handling his feelings much better than I was, but that last week his personality took on a somberness which left me even more gloomy because I couldn't count on him to cheer me anymore. It would have been tough enough, then something happened which strained our foursome even worse than summer ending.
The last week started with Tim's Monday off. Gary knew Tuesday was his last day off, since Labor Day was coming the Monday after. He determined to make the best of it.
On Wednesday morning, we were to meet the girls on the beach directly down from Gary's rooming house. When I arrived at Gary's room, I was surprised to find him awake.
"How'd it go with Italia last night?"
"Incredible," he said, with a smile I never saw before.
"Do I want to hear about it?"
"I asked her to come back here and she was real excited about the idea."
"Oh shit." Gary seemed nervous and excited. I wanted to close my ears and run. But something that always beats out your common sense impulse not to intrude won this time too. Gary looked as bursting to talk as I found myself to hear about it."
"She went nuts on me."
"What do you mean, nuts?"
"I mean sexually," he said. "I mean fucking wild."
"You're kidding."
"No kidding," Gary said. "We were just listening to music and kissing at first, you know. Then I unbuttoned the top of her shirt, and that was it. Before I had the second button undone, she had my belt open, my jeans unsnapped, and my zipper down."
"Get the fuck out of here! Italia?"
I really wanted to run then, but Gary bolted my sneakers to the floor with "No, listen." He was shaking as he continued, "I looked down, and she was holding out my underwear in one hand and had my dick in her other hand."
"Yeah, sure."
"John, I'm serious." We looked at each other for a long moment, then I could tell he was.
"Oh, no," I mumbled.
Then he recovered himself. "My only regret is that I didn't ask her back here last Tuesday, too."
"But we only knew them one day then."
"That's why I couldn't ask her. I sure am glad I did this time, though."
"Are you?" I looked at him. "Then why are you so shaky?"
"Just excited out of my mind," Gary said. "Listen, I'm not even talking right. And I know that's the last time we'll be alone like that. I guess that's why she did it."
"I guess."
"Do you want to borrow my key tonight, buddy?"
"If I come back for it," I said. "Let's get to the beach."
"I knew you couldn't say no this time."
On the beach that day, Italia didn't seem any different. She was quiet, but no quieter than she'd been our first week together. Suzanne was the more talkative one, but she never talked very much either. Actually, the only one of us who talked a lot was Gary. I guess that's why things seemed quieter, because Gary wasn't telling them about Kensington or asking about the Canadian countryside anymore. That day we started by just spreading out on the blanket and towels for a couple hours to fortify our tans, silent in the sun.
Then Suzanne said she wanted to go on the water slide and we liked the idea right away, so we headed to the pier quickly. At the top of the wooden steps, there are three different slides to choose--two on the left and one on the right. The two on the left empty into the same pool at the bottom. We raced each other a few times, trying to keep low and flat and slide through all the curves and twists as quickly as possible. But what I enjoyed most was going down right behind Suzanne, holding onto her ankles and watching the water curl off her bikini bottom the whole way down. Our time was up too quickly, and we walked away from the slide laughing about our best runs.
Gary said he had to get back to his room to get ready for work, and I gave him a hard time about it since I had the night off. Then the sisters said they had to get back to their apartment for dinner. When she dropped me off down the street at Gary's, I asked Suzanne if she wanted to eat at my house, since my mom asked about her a few times. But she said her mother probably already had something started for her.
"Then I'll meet you around eight where that first arcade is down your end of the boardwalk, okay?"
"See you then."
"Do you want to come, too, Italia?" I asked as she moved into the front passenger seat of the Malibu.
"No, it is all right."
Suzanne and Italia rolled away and I walked Gary to his room.
It was strange starting from the south end of the boardwalk, but I liked the arcade and miniature golf course down there, so it was a good start. Suzanne and I played some pinball and video games for awhile, then rolled some skeeball. I don't roll the ball up the middle of the alley, like most players do. Instead, I bank the ball off the edge just before the hump. This way I roll consistent 40's, but a 50 is still impossible to get unless the ball bounces off the rim or net roofing just right. I tried to show Suzanne my style, but it wasn't working for her so she went back to rolling the balls straight and centered. We played awhile longer with an unused lane between us. I happened to glance over at Suzanne's score once and she had a 270 already with three balls left. I stopped my game to watch and she rolled a picture-perfect 50.
"Wow," I said. "The magic touch!"
Suzanne's eighth ball looked like an instant replay of the seventh.
"How many 50's did you roll so far?"
"The first was 20."
"Seven 50's! You're going to break 400. If you keep that up, we'll be able to get the deluxe pencil sharpener. Go for it."
Suzanne laughed as she sent up the last ball. It tipped off the 50 cup and rolled down into 10's drain.
"Shit. I jinxed you. Shouldn't have joked."
"You did not jinx me," Suzanne said. "It is silly to think."
"Well, let me finish off this game and we'll see what we can get." I rolled two 40's and a 20, then we went to the prize counter. We didn't like any of the junk offered, so I suggested giving the tickets to Sylvie or François.
"Do you want to play mini-golf?" I asked. "The safari course next door is pretty sharp. A different animal at each hole."
"I do not feel like golf," Suzanne said. "Do you?"
"I can miss it."
Then I asked about something that had been puzzling me for a week. "How come you didn't wait at the exit door to see the movie, like we agreed?"
"I thought you and your friends would get trouble."
"We're the ushers! We give people trouble if they are trouble, not the other way around. We've gotten friends in before."
Suzanne looked some combination of sad and disappointed. "I just could not, John."
"Okay," I said. "What did you think of Tim?"
"He seems a very good guy."
"He asked if you and Italia have a sister, so we told him about Sylvie."
"She is only eleven years!"
"We were joking."
"Why does he never go out with us?"
"Tim and his girlfriend, Sharon, are like one person. They like to spend all their time off alone together."
"All?" Suzanne said. "All is not good."
"Yeah," I agreed. "They're stuck on each other." We walked silently to where the boardwalk got more crowded with people and stores. When we were near the street of Gary's rooming house, I thought of the key in my pocket. I thought I wouldn't go back to Gary's room for it, but since coming down the slide holding Suzanne's ankles, I'd been giving myself to the last second.
"Want to go to Gary's room?" The question sounded as though it were coming from someone else.
"I thought he is working."
"He is."
"Then why go there?"
"For privacy and a stereo."
"Privacy is wonderful."
"It's down this street."
When I opened Gary's door, Suzanne inhaled audibly and her eyes got wide.
"Hey," I said, "this is neat compared to how it usually looks. Put on an album while I see what he has to drink." I looked in the compact refrigerator. "He doesn't have anything to drink. Figures."
I sat on the bed. Suzanne put on an old Cat Stevens album--Teaser and the Firecat--and sat next to me.
"What color is your room at home?" I asked.
"In Iberville?" Suzanne asked. "What a question!"
"It's a straightforward question," I said. "You just have to name a color."
"Blue and yellow." She looked at me through one slit eye. "Why?"
I didn't answer, but started kissing her instead. Until this night we had only held hands and kissed good night. Suzanne's hand was always warmer than mine, but is wasn't much smaller, though it was a lot softer. Before long, I was carried away, kissing all over her mouth, eyelids, neck, and ears. She didn't seem responsive as I held and kissed her breasts through the fabric of her blouse. Then I started rubbing my forehead against her stomach. When I slid my nose down her zipper and rubbed the stubble on my chin against her crotch, I thought I heard someone saying not to. But it sounded so far from me I thought I was imagining the voice, or maybe it was Cat Stevens. I rubbed my nose and cheeks and forehead and lips in the heat I could feel coming through the denim.
"John, no."
Suzanne said it pretty tenderly, but it still made me angry to realize I was hearing it. I wanted to shout, "Don't say 'No.'!"
"No, please, John."
That got me. I knew then I was being unfair to both of us. " 'm sorry," I said, then got back to Suzanne's face and kissed her. "I went out of my head for a minute, but I'm back now."
Suzanne sat up. "Did Gary tell you about his date with Italia?"
"A little." I got up. "Did Italia tell you?"
"She said he was all over her."
"That's great," I said with a quick laugh. "He said just the opposite."
"You believe him?"
"He's my friend."
"Italia is my sister."
"I know." Massaging my forehead and eyelids now, I didn't know what to believe. I knew Gary since the beginning of freshman year. I didn't get to know him well until we became ushers together, though for the past three years we always had a couple classes in common. Ever since we cheated on the Bible true/false tests in ninth grade we've been friends. I know he's a jerk at times, but I think he would take no for an answer. True, I didn't know Italia very well, but she seemed a lot like Suzanne.
"I don't know what to believe, Suzanne. It's hard to guess what couples do when they're alone together." That was true enough. I could never imagine other couples having sex, even couples I knew must have because they had kids. I turned off the stereo, surprised we weren't even there for an entire album side. "And I don't see why we should try to guess. Come on, I'll walk you back."
"You want not to talk about it?"
"What's to talk about?"
"Italia said she wants not to be alone with Gary again."
"Well, that's easy to arrange," I said, "since we don't have anymore days off and your family is going back to Canada Sunday."
Whatever mistakes were made on Gary's date with Italia, and enhanced on mine with Suzanne, altered the freedom we four shared and soured the mood of our final four days. During our first week and a half, we could talk about anything. Now we each had things we weren't saying. I told Gary nothing went on between Suzanne and me in his room, and he didn't believe me. I didn't tell him Italia had talked to Suzanne about what he and Italia did.
We continued to go to the beach together everyday, except the one day it rained and we went window shopping along Pacific Avenue until Gary had to work the matinee. The intersections got so flooded we had to carry our shoes and sneakers. Gary tried to jump across a deep puddle, but tripped backwards off the curb and got completely drenched. I joked that if he were a gentleman, he'd lay there and let the ladies walk across him.
On another of our final days we borrowed the Cordonet's Malibu to drive to Cape May because none of us had ever been there. Italia was impressed by the Victorian houses, but I was more impressed by how well Suzanne drove in the new environment. She seemed to have a good sense of the road, so I asked her how long she has been driving and when she answered almost three years, I realized she must be older than I was.
"Three years?" I said. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen," Suzanne said. "You?"
"Seventeen." I wasn't going to be seventeen until October, but I could get away with the lie since my birthday was less than two months away and I asked first.
"L'enfant," Suzanne laughed.
"Leave me alone."
We visited the lighthouse at Cape May Point, then went on the beach there for a couple hours. It felt strange having to wear round tags. For a quarter, though, it makes a good souvenir since it has the date on it.
The unavoidable Sunday arrived and I made my way to the Cordonet's apartment to say good-by. I stopped by Gary's room on the way, but he didn't want to come with me.
"I said good-by to her last night," Gary said. "They'll be packing. We'll just be in the way."
"Did you give her your address?"
"What for? We ain't going to see them anymore, John. I'm working on forgetting about her starting right now. Besides, I hate good-byes."
"I'm not so crazy about them myself."
Gary noticed what I was holding. "You going to give Suzanne that?"
"Yeah," I said. "Think she'll like it?"
"See you tonight, you crazy ass."
When I got to the apartment, the Cordonets had already started packing the Malibu. Suzanne took a break to sit on the chairs in front of their place with me. Italia walked by us a couple times carrying suitcases and boxes, looking at me without a word. Her third time by I said, "Gary said he said goodby to you last night."
"He did."
Then Sylvie came by carrying a little blonde doll. Suzanne said something to her in French. The only word I recognized was "skeeball." Sylvie showed me the doll and said, "Merci, John."
"You're welcome, Sylvie. But Suzanne won most of the tickets."
"Not so," Suzanne said.
"I have a going away present for you," I said. As I handed her a sixteen inch blue "S," I could tell from her eyes Suzanne was surprised but not thrilled.
"What am I to do with this?"
"Well, I have a "J" hanging on my bedroom wall."
"This is why you asked me the colors--"
"Yeah."
"I cannot take this, John."
"Oh, come on," I said, trying not to get angry. "We've got plenty more and besides, the blue ones are too light to hang right on the marquee wires, anyhow."
"But I cannot," Suzanne said, and handed the letter back to me.
"All right," I said. "Are you coming down next summer?"
"I think not," Suzanne said. "We usually come to Wildwood for August--"
"You mean you were here two weeks before we met?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you come see the movie sooner?"
"It only would make today harder," Suzanne said. "My parents want to try Florida next August."
"Florida? That's some drive from Canada."
"We will be four drivers then."
"That's not so bad, I guess, if you take turns." After a moment I added, "Then we won't see each other again?"
"No."
I pulled a slip of paper from my wallet. "Here's my address and phone number in Philly. If you write or call, I'll write or call back."
"I will." Suzanne took the paper.
"Good-by, Suzanne." I stood up and she stood in echo. We hugged tightly and kissed for a long time. We didn't stop until François walked by and went, "Woo, woo, woo-oo-oo."
I laughed, but Suzanne snapped something at him and so did Mrs. Cordonet as she came out their apartment door with a cardboard box she handed to François.
When we were left to ourselves again, Suzanne said, "I will never forget you, John."
I was on the brink of blubbering like a baby when I said, "I'll never forget you, either. Have a safe trip."
On the way back to my house, I did start crying. But the streets were nearly empty and it felt good to just let the tears go. I couldn't remember the last time I cried, probably in grade school. Now I cried until I couldn't anymore. Then I looked down and realized I was still carrying the "S." I wiped my eyes on the shoulder of my shirt, then held the "S" with the tip between my thumb and fingers. I sailed it hard into the brick wall of a store across the street and watched it shatter into tiny blue shards of plastic.
Two weeks after school started I got a letter from Canada. Suzanne wrote mostly about how her last year of school was going, the classes she liked and didn't. The part that got to me most was her saying how numb she felt during the long drive north. I wrote back almost right away, telling her about my last two days at the shore and how my courses looked so far. I also sent Gary's address for Italia, but he never got a letter from her. I didn't get anymore letters from Suzanne, either, so I didn't write anymore because I feared letting our relationship go one letter too far. And I never did see her again. But true to the promise I made only to keep from crying, I have never forgotten the girl who showed me how beautiful and terrible it is to love.
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