TAPE NINE 1/15/86

A couple of weeks went by. I’d tried to call her but didn't push it when no one answered. Even though the rumor was that Marlene had dropped out of school, something made me sure that we would be back together better than ever, and I just relaxed. Then one afternoon she called me - something she'd never done - and asked me to come over. When I got to her house she met me at the door. Right away she asked,
"Would you go to a dance with me?"
That was about the last thing I expected. She didn't say anything about what had happened or where she'd been. Just did I want to go to a dance? It really amazed me. Since I'd known her I'd always assumed that she didn't want to be seen with me, and we’d never gone out together.
"I don't know much about dancing," I replied.
"How much?"
"Nothing."
"You've never danced?"
"No." I followed her into the living room.
"I can teach you. Mainly, you just stay on your feet, not mine."
"What kind of dance is it?"
She hesitated.
"Oh, it's just something my father's got me into. It has to do with his business." That really didn't help convince me at all. I'd never thought much about her father's business, but I guessed it had something to do with the underworld - like that's what Italians did or something. Of course, it never occurred to me just to ask her straight out what he did. Now I'd have to meet him, and at a dance, where I'd probably be tripping all over myself. Still, I didn't really want to say no the first time she'd ever asked me to go anywhere with her.
"Sure. I guess it's OK."
“Such enthusiasm. Well, I guess guys don't react well to being asked out; that ‘s supposed to be the boy’s job. It's next Friday night...and you'll have to wear a tuxedo."
"Tuxedo? Who has a tuxedo? I haven't even gone to a dance before, and I'm supposed to have a tuxedo?"
"Don't get so excited. There are lots of places that rent them. I'll pay for it."
"Never mind. I can pay for my own things. Is there anything else that has to be paid for - you know - like to get into the dance?"
"No, just the gas to get there."
Just the gas to get there, I thought. And what do we ride, the gas can?
"Can't your father drive?"
"My father?"
"Right. If it's his dance he'll be going, right? He could take us."
"Well...he has to leave early. He's one of the organizers, you know. I couldn't be ready that early, and who wants to sit around for hours waiting for a dance? Can't you get a car somewhere?"
Oh hell yes. Just walk up to someone and ask for a car. I'd turned sixteen in March and could've gotten my license, but between track and Marlene I hadn't squeezed it in. I'd pretty well taught myself how to drive by sneaking out my mother's car when she'd gone places with someone else or by using one of the old junkers Danny usually had behind his house.
I don't know where Danny's old cars came from or where they eventually ended up, but there was a constant parade of rejects in back of his house. He was good with his hands, like our dad had been, and he would tinker around with the old cars until he had them running well and then get rid of them.
Without a license there was no chance my mother would loan me her car, but it happened that Dan had an old '39 Cadillac about that time, and I made a deal with him to let me use it in exchange for cleaning it up and polishing it. It was really a mess. I didn't have much hope for it, but after a couple of washings and about two full cans of wax it looked pretty good.
The inside was another story. It looked and smelled like someone had been transporting horse manure. I just ripped out the rugs and made new ones from some old brown living room rug I found in the garage. I couldn't do much with the seats, so I covered them with blankets. Then I poured a bottle of Airwick over the whole thing and left the doors open for a few days.
By the day of the dance everything was ready. The car was a ridiculous exaggeration - a great black hearse - but it was OK. My rented tuxedo looked alright, too. I had picked out one with a white jacket and a red plaid tie and cummerbund. The whole thing seemed pretty stupid to me, but I had to admit it looked pretty sharp. I hadn't told my mother I was going to a dance, and, as I guessed, she wasn't even home as I got ready.
Danny's wife, Dede’d shown me some basic dance steps and we'd practiced a few times with the radio. She told me that you were supposed to take flowers to your date when you went to a nice dance, so I bought a red carnation corsage without even thinking to ask Marlene what color dress she'd be wearing.
And so, flowers in hand, looking like a reject from a James Cagney mobster movie in that car, I showed up on time at Marlene's house. It took several minutes of knocking and ringing before she answered, but finally she opened her window upstairs and called down that the door was unlocked and that I should go and wait in the living room. Once I was inside she called down the stairs that she'd be a little while, so I could get a drink and watch TV or whatever I felt like.
It took her over a half-hour more. I didn't feel like watching TV, so I sat around and half-read some magazines. For some reason I was getting a little nervous. I didn't know why I should have been nervous. I mean, it wasn't my dance that we'd be late to, but there was this anticipation. I put on some music and paced around. Finally I sensed some movement at the top of the stairs.
Slowly she came down the great curving staircase. It was like an entrance of one of those old movie stars. All that was missing was the camera and the director. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Her silver strap shoes were the first things in view. Next came a floor length white evening dress that I can still see. It was very simple - sort of like a Roman toga that looped around her neck. Her shoulders were bare. The only word for it was elegant. Really like majestic. The dress was made out of some soft, silky material that just floated around her. It was very formal, but left no doubt about that great body it covered. The only jewelry she wore was a thin chain with my locket. She had very little makeup, but her hair was all swept up and piled loosely, and she'd woven daisies through it. She was perfect.
Maybe not everybody would have reacted like I did. Maybe she was just my fixation. But I think a hell of a lot of guys would have been just stopped cold like I was if they'd seen anyone like that coming toward them. You could only tell she liked my reaction. She played it to the maximum.
"Put your tongue back in. It's not that wonderful."
"That's because you're looking at me, not at you.”
"Oh, please.”
"It's true. It's really true. This time you've got to believe something nice about yourself. I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you, not anywhere."
For a minute she was silent and then a little sad look crossed her face.
"What's the matter. I'm serious. You've got to know I really mean it."
"I know. You're being very sweet. I just wish..."
"Wish what?"
“Oh, nothing. Maybe just that someone from my family - my father - someone - you know - could be here to see us off. Parents are supposed to be all mushy when their kids go to a big dance."
"Well, your father will see you at the dance, won't he?
"Oh...oh, sure, sure he will. Never mind. Lets go."
"No one was home at my house either. No one saw me in my first tuxedo."
"Well, it's different for a boy."
"Maybe."
She looked at me for a minute.
"Who told you to get a tuxedo with a red tie...and a red cummerbund?"
"It doesn't look good?"
She considered me for a moment.
"No, it's fine. In fact, just right for this dance. Is that flower for me?"
Over my shoulder she'd spotted the corsage on the coffee table.
"Yeah. But it's red, too. Not much imagination. I should have called you and asked what you were wearing. Anyway, you shouldn't wear a flower with that dress. It would just screw it up. It looks great just like it is. Leave the corsage here."
"Right. And have everyone say that my date didn't even bring me flowers. They're fine. Is it alright if I just clip them on my evening bag? I can carry them like that."
I was glad she handled it that way. I really didn't want to see that big drippy bunch of red carnations messing up that dress.
When we went out to the car she had a lot of sarcastic stuff to say about it, but I could tell that she didn't think I'd done too badly. Thank God the stink was pretty much out of it.
I headed through the downtown section and south toward LA. She'd said her father worked there. Something else she'd said had gotten through to me, and, in spite of the occasion, I felt a little moody. I hardly paid attention when she told me to go right on Los Feliz Road in the direction of Hollywood.
"Your father doesn't treat you very well, does he?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Oh, you got sort of sad back at the house when you were talking about him. I'm not so sure that I want to meet him. He's got to be a little strange."
I don't know why I got into that when we were supposed to be headed out for a good time. I guess the thought of finally meeting her father had me nervous. And then there was the thing about the guy in the vision, the guy standing behind the little girl and smiling that lizardy smile. I guess I wondered if that had anything to do with her father. She didn't seem to like the way I was talking, so I shut up for a while. Finally, feeling all defensive I blurted out,
"Well, it's not right that he should make you sad on a big night."
"He's alright. He does his best. I can say that now. He doesn't make me feel sad, really. I think he really cares for me. It's just that we've always had a messed-up home life. He works too much. It's how he escapes from things. Some people seem to need escapes."
She said this flatly, with no particular direction. I looked over at her, but she was watching the street. She went on,
“I still don’t like it, but I've got to live with it, at least a little while more.”
"What do you mean, 'a little while more?’"
"Well, you know, I'm a senior now, or I should be. I won't graduate with this class, but I should finish up my credits next year. Then I'll have to decide about college or something."
That should have warned me about what might be coming, but in those days "next year" sounded so far off that it eased my mind.
"You said it's different for a guy," I went on, "but even a guy likes to get some attention from his family. I honestly don't think my mother gives a shit about me. She'll be damn glad when I'm out of her way."
"I've learned you've got to take it a little easy on your parents. They're not really much worse people than we are."
"Parents who are there and don't care. Parents who care and aren't there. Which are better?" I asked.
I looked over at her, but she was concentrating on the street. The way the conversation was going, there probably wouldn't be much evening left in a few more minutes. It was about the most honest talk we'd ever had, but that just wasn't the night for it. I decided to drop it. Also, it had finally occurred to me that we weren't headed for downtown LA, but over toward the west side. Now she wanted me to turn on Riverside Drive which would take us around Griffith Park and out toward the San Fernando Valley.
"Are you nuts?" I asked. "This goes out to the valley, not to LA."
"Whose dance is this anyway? I know how to get there. Maybe I just don't know the names of all the cities around here."
"Well, we're going to use up all the gas just driving around in circles."
"What...did you put in a whole dollar's worth?"
"No, wise-o. I filled the tank. It cost almost four dollars."
By then I had the feeling that I was being put on, and, sure enough, when we got around the park she told me to turn again on Western which would take us over the L.A. River and back up toward the foothills. This time I kept my mouth shut, because to tell the truth, I was getting a little pissed off, and I really didn't want to start a fight with her. When we got up to Kenneth Road, which skirts along the base of the foothills, she had me turn right again. At that point it was only a couple miles right back to her house. I know I must have really been white in the face, I was getting so mad, and what made me even madder was that I could tell, even without looking at her, that she was smiling. I couldn't believe she'd put me through all that just for some stupid joke.
I was so pissed that I hadn't noticed that she'd told me to turn again and that I'd done it. Suddenly I stopped the car. We were right behind the high school. It must have been about nine-thirty or ten, but all the lights in the girls' gym were on. It was the night of the senior prom.
"You didn't think I'd do all this just to be nasty, did you?"
I looked over at her. She was still smiling, but her eyes showed something else. I was still mad enough to say,
"Well, it isn’t like you've never been nasty before."
Now the laughter went from her face, and that sadness came over her again. I wanted to take the words back, but they were out, and I was still mad anyway.
"Why didn't you just tell me that you wanted to go to the senior prom?" I asked.
"Would you have said yes?"
"Maybe. Probably not. Well, shit, I've never been to a dance before, and now I'm supposed to make a fool of myself in front of the whole school? No. Even better. In front of all the juniors and seniors."
"Don't swear. And don't think about yourself all the time. Most of the kids you know won't be there anyway."
She was probably right about that. A few sophomore girls might be there with juniors or seniors they were dating, but I didn't know any other guys who were dating girls from the upper classes.
"Oh, you're right. It's me being stupid again," she said. "I should have told you. I should have been honest. Let's just go home. I know it's not fair to you."
I studied her. It was strange how beautiful she'd become. It was as though her face had suddenly opened in some spectacular bloom of beauty. It was a total reversal. Now soft shades of her natural glow replaced the painted clown's cheeks, and smoldering fires, hidden before, flashed through eyes that had usually been turned away. Was I the only one who saw it, or would others feel it, too? Would they have the chance?
"Sure, just go home. Do you have any idea how hard I had to scrub this tank to get it to look like this? Do you know how much this stupid suit set me back? Just go home. You're nuts."
I stomped on the gas and wheeled down the hill toward the parking lots. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that she was smiling again.
The upper lot was full so I had to keep going down to the faculty lot where I finally found a place. As we walked back to the gym we could hear a voice inside announcing something over a loudspeaker. Then there was clapping, and the band played a short piece.
"They're announcing the prom court," Marlene said. "First they tell the princes and princesses and then the king and queen."
Now that was a part of school I have to admit I've never understood. You figure there were 1,500 kids in that school. That meant there were about 500 kids in each class. Logic would tell you that around 250 of those were girls, and yet, ever since junior high, whenever they had to choose a girl for song leader or some court, there were only about ten that ever got picked. That's a pretty rotten dog/doll ratio. I guess it was lucky that we had some queens, at least, but it seemed like it would've been nice for some of the others if they passed the goodies around a little more.
When we arrived at the front door of the gym there was no one there. Inside was a small lobby, and then you had to go up more steps to the doors that actually opened into the gym itself. A table and chair had been drawn up to the front door. There was a box of ticket stubs on the table, but no one was there to take our tickets. Once we were inside, I could see a girl in a lacy formal dress standing at the top of the stairs peeking through the gym doors.
"Excuse me," I called.
She turned around looking a little annoyed. It was Thelma Pritchert, a junior girl who was always involved in planning activities. She'd probably worked harder than anyone else getting ready for this dance. She always worked harder than anyone else. And her reward was that she didn't even have a date. She got to put on her formal and come over to take tickets. Why didn't they pick someone like her to be queen? It would have done her a lot of good.
She came quickly down the stairs, talking very excitedly.
"I guess I should have stayed by the door. But I didn't think anyone else was coming, and it's so thrilling. They're just ready to announce the last princess, and then everyone will know who the queen is. It's down to Lynn French and Carole Davala. It'll probably be Lynn - she's always the queen - but I'd just die if Carole could win. She's so nice.
During all this she hadn't looked to see who we were. Now she recognized me, mainly because she was a member of Mercury's Maidens, a club Soz had organized to do a lot of slave work for the track team. I always saw her out by the track painting signs or decorating the stands or working her little heart out on some typical Soz project. She smiled at me and then looked at Marlene. Her jaw dropped to a good fly-catching position, and it was a few seconds more before her brain began to rumble again. Even then she didn't recognize Marlene.
"Andy, you're a sophomore, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"You know the prom is only for juniors and seniors and their dates?"
"Sure, Marlene is a senior."
Now Thelma looked carefully at Marlene. Finally it clicked. Her jaw dropped down about to her chest. I wondered if it unhinged for really big meals.
"Oh, you're Marlene Bertini. I see you in the cafeteria."
"Barzani."
“Oh, sure, Marlene Barzani. Well, I didn't recognize you. You don't have...You look... different."
"Thanks. '
Just then the band stopped playing and the loudspeaker voice started again.
"Oh, they're announcing the last princess," she squealed, dropping our tickets into the box. "Excuse me, I've just got to see who she is." She bounded up the stairs to her crack in the door.
I took Marlene's coat and evening bag with the big red corsage over to a room where one of the lady custodians was checking things, and then Marlene and I went up to the gym door. Thelma was about ready to pee herself completely, formal and all.
"They picked Lynn for princess," she yelped. "That means Carole is the queen. Oh, that's so neat. Carole is such a neat girl, don't you think. Oh, I'm so happy
Marlene and I stared at each other unable to believe Thelma. The band stopped and the voice started it's final announcement.
"And now ladies and gentlemen the moment we have all been waiting for, the crowning of the queen of the 1956 Senior Prom. By now you all know who she is: a young lady whose beauty, personality and talent have charmed us all during our years at Hoover High. Here she is, Miss Carole Davala."
Although it was no big secret, everyone went crazy clapping and cheering. The band began some romantic song of the time, and I imagined that Carole and her date were going up to wherever she would get crowned. I couldn't see anything because Thelma was not about to pry her nose out of the crack in the double doors. I figured Marlene and I would wait until everything quieted down and then slip unnoticed into the gym, but that was not the plan.
To Thelma's shock - she almost lost a nose - and to my amazement, Marlene opened the left half of the double doors and proceeded into the gym. Although every emotion told me to stay planted, obviously that wouldn't work. Swallowing hard, I followed her through.
The door was about twelve feet above the gym floor. When the seats along the wall were pulled out it was at the level of the top row of seats. For the dance the seats were pushed back and folded against the wall like sets of large flat wooden boxes. So we were above the crowd on a landing, a sort of platform, from which steps led down to the gym floor.
On the floor, a red carpet had been rolled down the center of the basketball court to a dais built under the the raised basketball backboard on our right. A large crown had been hung under the backboard and streamers led from the crown down to the dais where the four pairs of princes and princesses stood. Carole Davala had just finished the walk up the carpet to where the king, Dick Rustin, was standing next to the throne, and she was getting ready to take her seat.
As she sat down the president of the senior class came up behind her and said something corny, but just as the crown was placed on her head, Carole happened to look up and spot us standing at the top of the stairs. She kept looking at us - or at Marlene - and, as if on her command, the kids in the crowd around the dais followed her stare up to us in a sort of rolling eyes-right. The wave of turning heads washed over the group until they were all looking up at us, and from their expressions it seemed like they were witnessing the Second Coming rather than the arrival of two kids late to a dance. Some of them recognized me. I heard my name whispered in different places, but obviously the great fascination was Marlene. The way the girls were shaking their heads you could tell they hadn't figured her out yet.
Talk about mixed emotions! Man, what a screwed-up headful I had at that moment. The first was terror; I mean gut-wrenching, jelly-spine, stark terror. My kidneys ached like they'd been massaged by the old baseball bat again. A surge of nausea started at my toenails and rolled right up me. Only a panicked glance at Marlene saved me. There she stood, serene, majestic, granting a bemused half-smile to her bewildered subjects. She slipped her arm through mine, and the touch of her calmed me. There was nothing for it but to start down.
As we reached the steps I looked over at Carole Davala. A second emotion came over me - something between guilt and sympathy. She really was a nice person. If I passed her on the stairs between classes she always said hi, even though I didn't really know her. And it wasn't a phony, vapid little hi either, but a friendly one. Her winning that night was a triumph of personality over beauty. That's why girls like Thelma were so excited by it. It held out the illusion, at least, that if personality wasn't as genetically determined as looks, there might be some hope for them all.
Carole wasn't bad-looking by any means. She just wasn't the perky little beauty that usually won this kind of thing. She already looked a little motherly. You could imagine that in a few years she would have some kids and be the greatest looking mother in the world. For three years of being nice, nice, nice this was her reward, and at literally the crowning moment we showed up to take the edge off it all. It wasn't fair by most measures. But then I looked back at Marlene.
There was no doubt about it, she was the most beautiful girl in the room. It wasn't just my fixation. She was leagues beyond anyone else. And it was something she'd achieved by herself over the last year. Of course, her beauty was natural, an accident, a trick of nature. But one year before it shone only in the recesses of her house. That it should break through the darkness and be seen by all was a cause for celebration. Maybe it was right. Maybe it was better this way: a celebration for some who needed celebrating, not the usual crew of perkies. As we came down, gasps of recognition could be heard around the room as word of who she was began to spread like ripples from a skipping stone.
And then suspicion coiled itself inside me and struck. Was there something a little strange about the timing of all this? Suddenly all the time she took dressing and the long trip around town made sense. When we arrived at the gym she'd been almost like an actress pacing backstage, listening to the other actors' lines before making her entrance. I narrowed my gaze at her, but she was still doing her Mona Lisa thing.
We reached the floor of the gym, and the trance evaporated. The music started, and the announcer said that Queen Carole and King Dick, would begin the coronation dance. The two went to the center of the room where they danced for a while by themselves, receiving the congratulations of the others. Gradually more dancers joined in, and soon the floor was full.
Marlene and I stood by the side of the stairs during that dance - which seemed to last twice as long as normal - a receiving line of two, receiving the inquisitive stares of the swirling crowd. As the next dance started, she said,
"Clubfoot or not, you've got to dance. I can't take standing here any longer."
"Me neither, but you brought it on yourself."
"How was I to know we'd get here just at that moment?"
I gave her a "How stupid do you think I am?" look and led her onto the floor. The band was playing a fast dance - some early rock and roll. I did the two-step that Dede'd showed me. I did the two-step to everything we danced. Marlene couldn't complain too much. I didn't step on her toes the whole night.
I was surprised that several girls had things to say to Marlene. I'd guessed that everyone would just stand back and give us strange looks. Even Queen Carole, who was in art class with Marlene, told her how good she looked and, of course, said hi to me. Her date, John Richards, looked over my head while they were talking. He was one of the football types - pretty good-looking and supposedly pretty good with the girls. I didn't know he dated Carole, but maybe he saw that she was going to win something and figured it would be a good deal. Then again, maybe it was true love, but he managed to sneak in several good looks at Marlene when Carole's back was turned. In fact, that was the response Marlene got from most of the guys. I wasn't sure I liked that at all.
Thank God we were on the downhill side of the evening. That was one advantage of coming in late. After the next set of dances you could see that some of the kids were leaving to restaurants and parties and other things. I was hoping for a signal from Marlene that we could do the same when the final lowlight of the evening occurred: we ran into Leo Frank and his date the ever-beautiful "Horizontal" Helen Hartung, so-named because, reputedly, she was often found in that position.
Actually, with his duck-tail trimmed back he didn't look too bad in his black tuxedo. You might not realize you were dealing with the local Mafia rep. Horizontal (you stressed the first syllable) was pretty presentable, too. Her dress was low-cut as hell, but within reason, and her hair was only ratted up to one story instead of the usual two. Right away, Leo got familiar as hell.
"Well, Marlene, you're looking great, but isn't it late for the little kids to be out?" he said glancing at me.
After all the shit I'd been through that evening that was too much. Marlene and her friends were cutting back my life expectancy, but I got all white again and took a step forward.
"Leo, for Christ's sake, don't be such a horse's ass," Marlene said.
To my surprise he went red in the face. Helen smiled graciously.
"Hey, babe, you know I'm just kidding. Ol' Thomas and me are good buddies from auto shop. How you doin' Andy?" He slapped me on the shoulder. "Did I ever tell you you remind me of a guy I know who runs a pool hall?"
I knew he was just trying to bring me down, but I mumbled,
"That's my brother."
"You’re kidding! Really? Come on, I was just raggin' ya. Your brother doesn't really work at a pool hall. A classy kid like you?"
"Yeah, my brother Dan. Dan works at Tiny's Pool Hall on Colorado. What's so big about that?"
"You're right. Danny. He said his name was Danny Thomas. Sure, just like the TV star. He's a hell of a pool player. Well, I'll be damned. Hey, Marlene, you've got better taste than I thought."
There was an example of great tough-guy logic. How did being the son of a glorified carpenter and a pushy bank teller make me a classy kid? And how did having a brother who worked in a pool hall suddenly make me cool?
Now Leo started off on a buddy-buddy routine, which, given his usual eatshit personality, didn't suit him at all. He drew me aside, and in a stage whisper that could be heard halfway downtown said,
"Man, you've got some chick in Marlene. I don't know how you managed it. I didn't think she went out on dates or you can bet yours truly would have asked her to this bash. Don't say nothin' to Helen, of course. I've always known Marlene was a doll under all that shit she puts on."
You could tell from his tone that this was not just brotherly congratulations I was getting. There was definitely an undertone of something menacing, like, maybe, jealousy. Again Helen smiled munificently.
After a little more of that stimulating conversation I managed to edge away from the group, using the punch table as an excuse. I was not only pissed off at the situation but a little worried that Leo - and maybe Marlene - was beginning to notice my preoccupation with Helen's tits which were, next to her brain, her most remarkable features and which seemed to be winning a struggle to get over the top of that low-cut dress.
When I got back I was happy to see that Leo and Helen were just leaving Marlene. I handed her a cup of punch, and we stood quietly for a while watching the dance which was down to about thirty couples.
"Leo has invited us to go out to a night club after the dance."
"With him?" I exploded, nearly spraying punch across the room.
"Of course with him. How else do you make an invitation? We should go there by ourselves?"
"Marlene, come on. How much do you want from me? You trick me into coming to the senior prom, and then you accept an invitation from the king of the tough guys. Don't I get any say in all this?"
"I didn't accept any invitation. I just told you what he said. Anyway, I don't think you're suffering that much. If you got to know Leo a little, you 'd find out that he isn't what he seems. You find that about a lot of people if you take the time and don’t just put them in boxes, like everyone does around here. Knowing him might do you some good. Anyway, it's just for something to eat. We’ll be back in two or three hours at the most."
I could hardly see how knowing Leo better could lead to anything but early death. I'd planned on taking Marlene to the Tam O' Shanter, a quiet English pub-style restaurant on the other side of town that Danny always talked about. Now she told me that Leo wanted to go to the Coconut Grove in Hollywood. I didn't even know where it was, but it had to be expensive as hell. I thumbed my wallet and wondered if my very last twenty-five dollars (after paying off Robertson's paint job) would be enough.
Actually, it didn't work out that bad. Leo drove his chopped Mercury that was so low you almost needed a ladder down to get in. He really had reservations, and he wouldn't take my money. Said we'd settle it later. That was strange enough, but after so many coincidences that evening, I'd stopped wondering about them. Nat King Cole was singing and he was great. Leo was pretty quiet - for Leo - but he had a flask and kept "sweetening" the soft drinks they gave us for five bucks a shot. I didn't drink much, and Marlene wouldn't touch it. It was about two o'clock before we were back at the school. After very few fond good-byes I managed to get the old tank started and back to Marlene's house.
I thought sure that her father would be home and that we'd just say good-night in the front, but she told me to come in. She made some coffee, and we talked a little in the kitchen, then went upstairs. I was surprised when she passed her room and went down the long hall to the last door on the left. When I saw where she was headed I was more than surprised; my stomach began to turn.
She waited for me at the door; I wasn't moving too fast. I really didn't want to face what had been there before. As she opened the door, though, I couldn't sense the mess I'd found that other day.
I looked in cautiously. She seemed to understand why. The room had been cleared out. That is, the dolls were gone. The walls had been stripped and whitewashed. The furniture seemed the same, but cleaner and neatly arranged. The brass bed shone near the window and was made up with crisp white sheets and a linen cover which was turned down. The floor was bare except for a tan woven rug near the bed.
She went right into the bathroom, and I stood for a while in the middle of the room, waiting. When nothing happened, I took off the tux, and draped it over a maple rocking chair. I left on my shorts and sat on the bed. Marlene was taking her time again.
A wind was moving the curtains, and I thought to close the window, but it wasn't too cold. After a while I lay back and must have dozed. A light pressure on the bed woke me. Marlene was sitting on the edge, her back to me, her hair loose, falling over a thin white chemise. She'd turned out the lights, but the room had a glow, maybe from the moon, and it outlined her face and breasts as she turned to me. I pulled her down, and we kissed softly, almost timidly, for a long time. Finally, I took off her gown and my shorts.
When I tried to go on, though, it was not the same. I went at it slowly, touching and kissing her and building gradually, but she was changed. It was like things had reversed. The self-assurance of the dance was gone, but gone too were the veiled hostility and the almost hypnotic state she disappeared into most of the times we had sex. Now she sensed and felt everything as if for the first time, and she cried each time I tried to start. The pain there seemed more than physical.
The early morning wind began to flow off the mountain. It was a cascade full of sage and night jasmine and chaparral smells that poured through the window, lifting the lace curtain over the bed like a wedding canopy. The hour and the efforts of the day pulled me down. I stopped trying and fell back on the pillow. She lay over me. Somehow, after all those months we were back to virginity. And yet, in some ways, our joining that night was more perfect than ever.
In the cool glow of the room I could see clearly: her head by my shoulder, her body entwined around mine, her night-ebony hair fanned over my arm. Her face in sleep was toward mine, and it was the face of a twelve-year-old girl I'd seen through an apartment window. Now it was calm and innocent. She sank into me; I rose into her. We were two children locked together against the world; more now than friends, we were one.

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