Juliana

by Vanda

  “Wilkins. Henry Wilkins.” He shook her hand. “I want you to meet my delightful fiancée, Alice Huffman.”

  “Miss Huffman and I are already acquainted. And yes. She is a delight.”

  “Have you met already? When was that, dear?”

  Oh, no, she’s gonna tell him. My life is ruined.

  “In church,” Juliana said.

  What?

  “I didn’t know Alice was much of a praying woman.”

  “The last time Alice and I were together she cried out to God most fervently. Didn’t you, Alice?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled to the floor.

  “Well, there is always something unexpected to learn about my Alice.”

  “Yes, Mr. Wilkins, you’d be surprised at how many unexpected things there are to learn about your Alice.”

  “And luckily, I’ll have a lifetime to learn them all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to my chores.” Henry walked off.

  “Why don’t we get a bite of something tomorrow?”

  “I work. In a job. A real one. Some of us do, you know? Then in the late afternoon I have an audition. Then I come back here to the Canteen and—”

  “We’ll meet at Schrafft’s on Forty-Sixth and Fifth. Noon tomorrow. You have to stop and have lunch some time.”

  “Well, yeah, but …. Would you mind if we, uh, went to Hector’s Cafeteria over on Forty-Second?”

  “Yes, I would. Very much. My treat.”

  “No, I can’t let you—”

  “Bring your list.”

  “My list?”

  “Of the things you want to know about me.”

  The hostess escorted me to Schrafft’s upstairs dining room where Juliana already sat at a back table.

  “Good afternoon,” Juliana said as I pulled my chair away from the table. Juliana’s perfume followed me. It was definitely not Evening in Paris or Shalimar. A feeling of intoxication drifted over me, and I hadn’t had anything to drink. I’m a grown woman now. Twenty. Too old for juvenile girl crushes. I adjusted my hat and slid my gloves off putting them in my purse.

  Juliana wore a maroon suit with matching gloves. It was double-breasted, and since those were outlawed in the new clothing, I knew it had to be old. Her hat was pinned toward the front of her head and cocked to one side.

  “Shall we order?” she asked. Her lips moved with the most amazing grace. I pictured my finger pressing against those lips, feeling the vibration of her words. “Or do you want to go over your list first?”

  “Where’s your husband?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

  “My, my, I guess the list is to be first. Very well. My husband, of course, is in the army. In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war on.”

  “Where’s he stationed?”

  “I believe somewhere in Australia.”

  “You believe? You don’t know?”

  Juliana pulled at the fingers of one of her gloves. “You seem to be under the misguided impression that my husband and I have a real marriage.” She slid her gloves off and laid them on the table. “Something to which you and Henry are apparently aspiring. My husband is my manager, a career move. Can we, at least, order a cocktail? These questions are making me thirsty.” She signaled the waitress with a wave of her hand. “I’d like a sidecar and you’ll have …?”

  “I have to go back to work.”

  “Surely one can’t hurt.”

  “Well…. What’s that? Sidecar?”

  “Cognac. Sugar on the glass. Sweet. You’ll like it.”

  “You don’t know what I like.”

  “Have whatever you want.”

  “I’ll take one of those sidecars,” I told the waitress.

  “Now, where were we?” Juliana asked. The way her eyes looked at me, as if they could to see through me, made me blush, so I glanced over at the other tables.

  The place was crowded with well-dressed women in hats having lunch. Like most restaurants during the war, there were few men.

  “I read Oklahoma is a magnificent musical,” Juliana said. “It’s changing the whole direction of musical theater. I suppose you’ve seen it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course. Well, I haven’t. I’ve been out of town, working. I hear it’s impossible to get tickets. I missed you.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. For a little while, I was mad at you.”

  “You were mad at me ? ”

  “Well, you just went off. You didn’t call. I never saw you again.”

  “I don’t have your phone number, and you’re married.”

  She sighed. “You really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “No, I don’t think…. When did I do that?”

  “When you didn’t tell me you were married.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Why would I ask?”

  “Because it seems so terribly important to you. Were you really looking to set up a household with another woman?”

  “No. I’m not like that.”

  “Well, then?”

  “What?”

  “Hello, Margaritte,” Juliana said to the woman who had suddenly appeared at our table. She was tall with broad shoulders made broader by her shoulder pads. She wore a blue and white striped dress and a round hat with a large feather.

  “Bonjour, ma cherie,” Margaritte said, in a French accent. “So is this the new one?”

  “And how is Albert?” Juliana asked.

  “The same. A bore.” Margaritte turned to look at me. “Have fun, ma cherie, but do be careful.” She kissed her gloved fingers, blew me a kiss, and turned back to Juliana. “She’s cute. Au revoir.”

  “Who was she?”

  “She’s the new wife of Albert Morgenthall, a big industrialist or diplomat or something important, I think. She goes through so many husbands I find it hard to keep track.”

  “She’s someone you know from France.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now she lives here?”

  “Yes. France isn’t such a good place to live right now.”

  “Yes, of course. The Nazi occupation. Why was she warning me to be careful?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  The waitress came with the drinks and placed them in front of us. Juliana raised her glass. “To friendship.”

  “What happened between you and Max?”

  “We’re back to the list.” She lowered her glass. “What about our friendship?”

  “I’ll see. Maybe. When I know you better.”

  “My favorite color is green, and I never had a pet as a child because my mother was allergic. However, when I was fifteen, she allowed me to have a cat as long as I kept him in my room. ”

  “What happened between you and Max? Why isn’t he still your manager?”

  She took a slow sip of her drink. “How is Max these days?”

  “Not so good. He’s in Europe fighting on the front lines.”

  “But ….” She looked away, distressed. “Wasn’t he on tour with Irving Berlin’s new musical? I heard they made a film and Max is in it.”

  “He is. But he got cut from the international tour. All the men who were cut got sent into active duty.”

  “Oh, Max.” Momentarily shaken, she took another sip from her glass.

  “What happened between you two?”

  “Oh, you know, things happen between people. Things that shouldn’t, but they do and by the time you realize they shouldn’t, it’s too late, and there’s no way back.”

  “You just said nothing. You said it very well, but it still was nothing. What happened?”

  “I don’t like talking about Max.”

  “I can see that. But if you want my friendship—as you say you do—you’ll talk about Max.”

  She stared at me as if trying to see me clearer. “You have a touch of cruelty in you.”

  It shocked me to hear her say it, but I instantly knew she was right.
I was hurting her. I didn’t know why making her talk about Max was hurting her, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. And I enjoyed it, this hurting I was doing. It made me feel strong. There was cruelty in me. And it gave me power over her. I liked that. I liked that very much. “Tell me about you and Max,” I repeated, my eyes cold steel boring into hers.

  “Max may be the only man I ever loved.”

  “But Max doesn’t like girls.”

  “Can we please move on from this?”

  “No. This is the point of my being here today. To get to know you.” I took a sip from my glass without taking my eyes off her.

  “Let’s order,” she said.

  “Not yet,” I could feel the drink in my head fueling me. “Did you and Max—you know …?”

  “We tried, all right? It was a disaster. Do you want the details of what we did, too?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Who can understand love? Who can make any sense of it? We were in love. Maybe. We felt a desperation, a grasping and yet—we couldn’t. Who can make any sense of that? You?” She lightly touched the side of my face with her fingertips. That old familiar electric charge crawled into the center of my groin. She must’ve seen it ’cause she said, “See? You’d much rather feel what you’re feeling right now for Henry, but you don’t. Waitress. Oh, waitress,” she called, leaving her fingers on my face. “We’re ready to order now.” She took her hand away and opened the menu. “May I suggest the chicken shortcake with spiced peaches?”

  “Sure,” I said, my power sifting onto the floor like spilled salt around my feet.

  We walked down Fifth Avenue—Juliana was walking me back to Gimbels—when the sky went dark and a loud crash of thunder broke through the clouds.

  “Oh, no, there’s gonna be a storm,” I shouted above the din. As I said the words, the sky opened. We ran for cover under a store awning, Juliana laughing all the way.

  My heart pounded as another explosion of thunder burst into the air. I hung onto the pole of the awning as if it were my life raft, while Juliana took off her hat and shook the rain from her hair.

  “Now, that was a surprise.” Her eyelashes sparkled with rainwater; her face glowed. I’d never seen anyone so happy to be doused in a summer storm. “You’d better take yours off, too,” she said, unpinning my hat and handing it to me.

  Another crash of thunder and I screamed, hugging my pole.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  I was so embarrassed. “I’m acting like a kid. You see, when I was twelve our house was hit by lightning. Well, it just hit the radio, but I was alone and it made a horrible sound and the radio went on fire and I was sitting right next to it and—”

  “You poor dear.” She scooped me off the pole and wrapped her arms around me and pressed my head to her breast. My whole body felt momentarily safe and then the vibrations started, and I pushed myself away.

  She fluffed out my hair with her fingers. “You don’t want to go back to work with your hair matted down.” I remembered a scene from some movie. A man and a girl met under the awning of a store while the rain poured down around them. Did they kiss? Probably not, if they just met. Still, a kiss in the rain somehow seemed right.

  Soon others huddled under the awning with us, and Juliana and I stood a respectable distance apart staring straight ahead into the sparkling drops. The rain gradually changed from a downpour to a drizzle and when it stopped we walked the rest of the way to Gimbels.

  “When will I see you again?” I asked as we stood outside the door.

  “Maybe some time.” She started to walk down the street toward Seventh Avenue.

  “Wait.” I ran after her. “We could have lunch again. Tomorrow. My treat this time.”

  “I’ll be busy.” She stood at the corner waiting for the light to change.

  “Then another day. You say when.”

  “I’ll be busy. ”

  “You can’t be busy every day.”

  “Yes, I can. I’m working on a new act.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I guess that wasn’t on your list.” The light changed and she crossed the street.

  Chapter Thirty

  “We don’t have to do anything today,” Henry said. “I’m content to lay here next to you.”

  Henry and I lay on top of my made bed, our heads propped up on pillows, fully clothed, except for our shoes. On the chair next to the bed, Henry had hung his jacket and tie. His cane leaned against the seat. The early afternoon sun streamed in through the window.

  “No, you’re not.” I jiggled Henry’s shoulder and we both laughed.

  We’d just gotten back from the Sunday Strollers brunch at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, near 9th Street. They had a sidewalk café there.

  “No, I’m serious,” Henry said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it for my sake.”

  “And you don’t want to?”

  “Of course, I want to. I’m a man. I want to all the time. But I’m not a smasher or masher or whatever they call it. I know you didn’t enjoy it that first time.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “No? Then how come it’s two weeks later and we haven’t done it again?”

  “We’ve been busy. I had that week-long radio stint on Gildersleeve plus Gimbels and the Canteen and my class with Mrs. Viola Cramden. And you’ve been reading those bad manuscripts and—”

  “That’s not it. Doing, uh … that isn’t something you fit in when you’re not doing anything else. I think you’re afraid because that first time hurt you. That’s not uncommon, you know.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “What?”

  “Aggie. ”

  “You told Aggie we …? It’s good you have a girlfriend to talk to. It made me feel bad that it hurt you. I tried not to.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He tapped my knee. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It hurt me, too.”

  “It did?”

  “When you said ‘go ahead, get it over with.’“

  “Ooh.” I squinted my eyes. “I said that?”

  He smiled. “That’s okay. I wanted to get rid of that barrier too so you’d get to experience how good it can be. But getting through hurt me physically too.”

  “Like trying to drill a hole through Fort Knox.”

  “Alice! I’ve never heard you speak so—”

  “Crass? Sometimes things pop out of me, and I don’t know where they come from. I’ll try to control it.”

  “I’d like a chance to show you that it’s not always going to be that way, but not if you’re not ready. Are you sorry we didn’t wait till we were married?”

  “No.”

  “Does it bother you that I’m not in the service?”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Maybe not, but I feel left out. Everyone’s overseas fighting to keep us free, and I’m here reading lousy manuscripts. It’s unmanly.”

  “Henry, you are very manly. You overcame polio and you have an important job. You’re not some cripple hidden away in a back room. You’re somebody.”

  “Maybe. But my colleagues at Scribner’s are all girls and old men. Everyone else is off having adventures. I get letters from my brothers, and I ….” He squeezed my hand. “You really don’t mind that I’m not in the service?”

  “Of course not.” I wasn’t sure how I felt. I did admire Henry for his courage, the way he kept going when people on the street made fun of him. He never yelled back an angry response. Still, it did hurt when people felt sorry that a sweet, young girl like me was marrying a cripple and wasn’t getting a chance to marry a soldier like the other girls. I felt a little left out of my generation’s most important experience; I couldn’t even hang a blue star in the window like Aggie did for Dickie. But Henry was kind so I don’t think I minded too much that he wasn’t in uniform. “Being with you is the best thing to ever happen to me,” Henry said. “I wish I could be a soldier for you.” He rolled
over onto his side, facing me. “I want to make beautiful love to you.”

  I ran my hand down the side of his face. “You’ve got to be the sweetest man alive.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him; he folded me into his chest and kissed me back. Then he ran a hand over my breasts as he unbuttoned my dress; he pulled the dress over my head.

  “Let’s get these other things out of the way.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to show you such a good time.”

  I took off my girdle. Henry, now in only his underpants, pulled down the bedspread. “Get in. I’ll cover you.” His thing pressed against his underpants. I got into bed, still wearing my underthings and Henry followed pulling the sheet over us. He threw off his underpants and pulled me close, kissing me. I could feel his thing pressing against my thigh.

  He stuck his tongue in my ear. I didn’t like that and hoped he’d stop soon. “Alice, I love you so much. You make me very happy.”

  He ran a hand quickly down my back to my rear. I was sure I was going to feel something soon. He lightly pushed me onto my back and lifted up my bra; he grabbed my breasts.

  “Ow!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He went a little easier after that, running his finger around and around. I wonder if I know someone who knows Ethel Waters’s agent. I’d really like to get her for the Canteen. Wouldn’t Miss Royle be pleased if …? Why did Juliana walk away like that?

  “Oh, gosh, Alice, I’ve got to put it in you. Okay?”

  “Huh? Oh, sure.”

  He pulled off my underpants, opened my legs, and put his thing against me, down there. I felt a tiny charge. I wished he’d touch that spot that Juliana …. Jeepers, I can’t think of her now, not in this position.

  “I’m going to go slow so you can get used to it.” He gently pushed his thing into me.

  At first I tightened up, afraid it was going to hurt again, but as he pressed it further in it didn’t hurt. He moved it back and forth faster and faster getting all sweaty, his face and chest getting red.

  Henry sure has a lot of hair on his chest. How strange it must be to have hair on your chest. At least, he doesn’t have any on his back. There was this guy in my senior class and when we all went to the beach he ….

  “Do you feel anything?”