She smiled at me to indicate I was doing it right, and I felt confidence transfusing from her body into mine. Maybe the men in here wouldn’t think of us as sisters, but they would surely think there was no innocence poured into our clothes and shoes. The two men at the door practically leaped out of their own clothes to get the rejected young men to make a path for us, and they opened the doors quickly for us to a few choruses of catcalls and whistles. Ava ran her hand over the cheek of the door guard on our left and then down under his chin, holding her hand up as if she had an invisible wire tied to him and she were inviting him in with us. I thought I could hear his quickened breath and small moan of pleasure. His companion on the right smiled hopefully at me, but as Ava instructed, I touched him only with my eyes. It looked as if it had the same effect.
“Very good,” Ava said. “Feel the power? You’re the puppet master, and they are the puppets.”
We stepped in and then paused like two divers on a cliff about to dive into the sea.
Now, anyone judging my reaction to Dante’s Inferno would have to take into consideration the fact that I had never even been to a house party or a school party. I had never gone on a date or been alone with a boy. The only dancing I had ever done was in our house with one of my sisters and my daddy. I was up on the music and the dancing, and I had seen movie scenes shot in such places, but until that very moment, I never fully appreciated the effect such a sight would have on me.
My heart began to race as it never had, and I felt the blood rising through my neck and into my face. For a moment, I thought I might simply explode. My eyes couldn’t swallow what they drank in fast enough. And my ears felt as if they were opening wider and wider to take in all the music, laughter, giggles, and screams of joy and excitement before us. I felt Ava’s hand on my arm.
“Easy,” she said. “Remember. Slowly, slowly. Let it all come to you.”
We walked toward the bar. Wouldn’t they check to see my age? A small panic started at the base of my stomach. I could be terribly embarrassed. Why wouldn’t Ava think of this? I turned to signal my concern, but she didn’t move her gaze from the men who were standing between us and the bar. Instead, she just squeezed my hand hard, which I knew meant relax. I tried. The men separated, none of them taking their eyes off us.
“Ladies,” one tall, dark-haired boy wearing a pair of wire-frame glasses said. He bowed and gestured at the seats that had been quickly vacated for us. I thought he had a gentle, sweet face and warm hazel-brown eyes.
“Thank you,” Ava said, and took one seat, nodding at the other for me.
“What would you Miss Americas like to drink?” a shorter, blond-haired boy on my right asked us. He looked much younger, too. Maybe he was someone’s younger brother visiting.
“We’re just having Shirley Temples tonight,” Ava said.
One of the bartenders, a good-looking brown-haired man with the sort of sculptured male-model look Ava called face candy, stepped up quickly.
“Shirley Temples?” another young man asked, pushing his way between the other two. He was stouter and the least good-looking, with large lips and a nose that looked as if it had been broken a few times. His dull brown hair was uneven and stringy. He was very muscular, with thick forearms and shoulders, and looked as if he might bust out of his tight red shirt. “What the hell’s a Shirley Temple?”
Ava looked at the bartender for the explanation.
“It’s a nonalcoholic drink,” he said. “Lemonade, Seven-Up, or something like that with a touch of grenadine and a cherry on top.”
“Huh? Nonalcoholic? That’s no fun,” the bigger young man said, grimacing. “I’ll buy you a real drink.”
“Look at it this way,” Ava told him. “I can keep my wits about me in this den of sin and still keep my cherry, too.”
All the men laughed, especially the bartender, who set out to make our drinks.
“I’m Buddy Gilroy,” the boy with the glasses said. “You guys go to a college here or something?”
“Something,” Ava said.
“Maybe this is their college,” the bigger man said. “You can learn a lot here.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Why, are you teaching?” I asked. It just came out before I could think if I should say it. Ava had said she wanted to do all the talking first, but I didn’t like the way he was elbowing the others out of his way, especially Buddy.
All the men cheered and teased their big friend. Ava raised her eyebrows. I held my breath, but she smiled at me. Don’t get overconfident, I told myself.
“Yes, Professor,” Ava followed up. “What is your subject? And don’t tell me sex education.”
“He needs to go to that class himself,” someone behind him said. There was more laughter.
“Oh, yeah. Listen, if either of you needs lessons,” the now red-faced big man said, “I’d be happy to volunteer.”
“What if it turns out your friends are right and we know more than you do?” Ava asked him as the bartender brought our drinks. “You might have to go to the back of the line.”
All of them laughed again. His face reddened even a darker crimson. He struggled to think of an appropriate comeback.
“In this case, I’d be happy to learn more, and if you’re the teacher, I’d gladly stand there and wait my turn,” he said, and his friends cheered.
Ava smiled. “That’s fine,” she said. “As long as you know your place.”
They all roared again. More young men broke off their conversations nearby and hovered behind the small group that had greeted us. I could see the envious, even angry faces of the girls to whom they had been speaking.
“So, really, where are you guys from? I haven’t seen you before. Anybody see them before?” another boy asked.
“I have,” Buddy said, looking directly at me. “Every night in my dreams.”
They all laughed.
“That’s all he ever does is dream,” the bigger young man said. “So, where are you from?”
I looked to Ava.
“Well,” she said, “we kiss, but we don’t tell.”
There were more roars. I sipped my drink. Buddy smiled at me and then asked if I wanted to dance. I looked at Ava. She gave me a short yes smile, and I nodded. When we got onto the dance floor, the music was so much louder it was nearly impossible to talk. I looked back and saw how Ava was holding court, none of the boys who had been around us leaving. I was torn between being there to hear her banter and learn and remaining here on the dance floor with Buddy, who seemed unable to take his eyes off me. Actually, I was having trouble taking my eyes off him as well. It also felt good to be out there, to dance in a crowd with other girls and young men who at times seemed to be in a frenzy.
What was it they were all celebrating with the same energy and abandon they would have on New Year’s Eve? Was it just the weekend, their freedom, or their youth? Were they celebrating or fleeing from sanity, from rules and supervision? What was it exactly that everyone was trying to prove to everyone else about himself or herself?
As I looked around, I thought many were saying, Look at me. Don’t you want to be with me more than anyone else? Here and there, I saw some shyer girls and even some shyer boys, but on the whole, everyone looked ready to cast off every restriction, every warning, every bit of advice on how to live moderately, sensibly. The room reeked of sex, bodies rubbing against bodies, lips close to lips, and hands sliding over rears and thighs. Every gyration, turn, and twist looked like a move in some mating dance.
“You’re a great dancer!” Buddy shouted. He drew closer. “You make me look good.”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you two from, really?”
“Around,” I said, and he laughed.
“What’s your name? Will you at least tell me that?”
“Diane.”
I saw Ava break away from the crowd with the young man on her right. The others watched them head to the dance floor, each one regretting he hadn’t asked first,
I imagine. She threw me a smile and went at it. The young man she was with seemed immediately overwhelmed. He waved back at his friends lingering at the bar to indicate that he was drowning. There was more laughter, and the night began.
We danced most of the time. Other boys asked us both, but I favored Buddy and was able to dance with him more than with anyone else. He never stopped asking me questions about myself. I hated not being truthful with him. Was it simply my inexperience, or was he really as honest and sweet as he appeared? My instincts told me yes, but I was afraid they made me too vulnerable. I had to keep my wits about me and not make a mistake and tell him more than Ava would want me to tell him.
She and I were constantly offered something stronger to drink and even something to take or smoke, but Ava refused.
“We don’t need anything to get high,” she told them. “We’re high on life.”
No matter how hard any of them tried to learn more about us, we avoided having to answer any questions. In between dances, Buddy asked me to step out with him on a small patio. I saw that he wasn’t drinking as much as his friends and asked him about it.
“I hate having hangovers, and most of those guys need to drink before they have any courage when it comes to women.”
“But not you?”
“I don’t have that much courage with or without a drink,” he said. “I have the nerve to say something to you, however. If I don’t, I’ll regret it all night.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re absolutely the most beautiful girl I’ve seen here, or anywhere, for that matter.”
“How do I know you don’t tell that to all the girls you meet?”
“You don’t. Tell you what,” he said. “Let me take you out next weekend and see if I say it again.”
I laughed. Maybe I wanted to see it, but what I saw in his face was the sincerity and honesty of a young boy, someone who either hadn’t learned how to deceive or couldn’t live and be comfortable with deception. He was close to me, his lips tempting mine.
“We’d better go back in,” I said.
“Sure.”
He followed me back. Ava saw us and looked suspicious.
“What went on out there?”
“Just talked,” I said. “He talked. I didn’t say anything.”
“I hope not. I think it’s time to leave.”
When the boys who had been hovering around us saw we were going, they protested. They still knew only our first names. Buddy practically begged me to give him my phone number, give him something. Of course, I didn’t. Two things began to happen even before we started out. Most of the boys simply gave up and moved on to approach other girls. The ones who had tried hardest to get to first base became belligerent as we gathered up our purses. Their remarks were nasty, crude.
“What, do you have some tricks to throw on the street?”
“Going to the dyke club?”
“Last chance to experience a real man, girls, or are you really both virgins and saving it for marriage?”
“Leave them be,” Buddy said. He nearly got into a fight with one boy mouthing off, but I could see the frustration was defeating him as well.
“Let’s go,” Ava whispered.
“Hey,” the big young man who had been with us from the beginning called out. “Your car turning into a pumpkin?”
There was lots of laughter trailing behind us.
“I’d love to bring him home to Daddy,” she muttered, but we continued out.
“Hope I see you again,” Buddy called.
I smiled back at him. I would never tell Ava, but I hoped I’d see him again, too.
“How do you feel?” she asked me when we got back into her car.
“Like I could go on and on for hours.”
She laughed. “That’s good. We have the energy,” she said. “You did well. You had that one hooked and could have reeled him in anytime you wanted. And he knows nothing about you, right? You didn’t talk too much out there on that patio?”
“No. Nothing but the name you invented,” I told her. But in my heart, I thought, He knows my smile. He’ll see me in his dreams. Actually, I thought I would see him in mine.
As soon as we were home, Ava went to speak with Daddy. I knew she was giving him a report about me. I was nervous, of course. I couldn’t help worrying that despite what she had told me, she was going to tell him I hadn’t done well. It was the old sibling rivalry at work.
I didn’t know it then, but Ava was more concerned now about her own future than she was about my rising above her in Daddy’s eyes. Her destiny was calling.
Before I went to sleep, Daddy came to my room. I didn’t hear him come in. I was in the bathroom washing off my makeup. When I stepped into the bedroom, he was standing there, smiling.
“Ava tells me you passed your first test with flying colors,” he said.
What test? I wondered. All I did was go to a dance club and flirt with some young college men, maybe one in particular.
“You followed your orders well,” he added, perhaps seeing my thoughts on my face. “You understand how you must behave. That’s important, Lorelei. You understand restraint and the importance of guarding our personal lives.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Daddy.”
“Oh, I’m happy, but I always knew I would be,” he said. He embraced me, kissed me at the top of my head, stroked my hair, and then held me out at arm’s length. I could feel the power in his arms, but also I could see the love in his eyes. He looked at me with such intensity I felt as though he really could look into my thoughts. I couldn’t help wondering if he could see how much I had been attracted to Buddy. “I can see how alive this has made you. You can feel the power inside you.”
I hadn’t thought about it as being a power, but I knew what he meant. I nodded. “I do feel different, Daddy, older.”
I wanted to add that I felt what it could be like to like a boy, maybe even love one, but I knew that would not make him happy. Most fathers felt ambivalent about giving up their daughters, but in Daddy’s case, that would be tragic, probably for both him and me.
“You are different now, Lorelei. You’re closer to being one of us, and I have the best daughters any father could hope to have,” he said softly. He kissed me on the cheek and then turned and smiled just before he left, closing the door softly and leaving me standing in the afterglow of his enormous love.
Maybe my instincts weren’t as sharp and developed as Ava’s were, but instinctively, I knew I would either grow because of that love…
Or drown in it.
5
Morning After
Had something really happened to change me? Was I different now, older, almost overnight?
I knew I felt different, even though it seemed silly. Surely, one night out with Ava wasn’t enough to make me feel more mature, and what had I actually done, anyway? Danced, flirted, enjoyed some repartee with college boys, stayed out later than any other time? But older was just how I felt. Could it be that when I went out with Ava, something magical did happen, that I not only looked older but had grown more sophisticated? After all, it was true that my body had matured quickly after what had seemed to be a body on hold forever, so why not my mind and personality?
“Surprising things will happen to you because of the way you are being brought up, the way we live,” Daddy once told me. “But I promise you, it will all be good, all wonderful.”
I believed him. As I observed other girls in school, I did believe that all of us Patios, all of Daddy’s daughters, were truly special in so many ways. It wasn’t only our physical beauty, either. We seemed to move in and out of another dimension and wore looks on our faces that had others believing we knew very interesting and mysterious things.
One of my fifth-grade teachers, Mr. Foggleman, told me one day that I looked like someone who knew the future. I had no idea what he meant. He tried to explain by telling me I never seemed surprised by anything. “It’s as if you always know something�
��s coming, expect it, Lorelei. Your father’s not a fortune-teller, is he?”
“He’s everything to me. Why not a fortune-teller, too?” I said, and Mr. Foggleman laughed. He thought I was joking, but I meant every word.
I thought about all that while I stood in front of my full-length mirror and studied myself. Today I was wearing an ordinary cotton short-sleeved red blouse and a dark red skirt. Except for a little lipstick, I wore no makeup, and I had pinned my hair back, more or less so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.
As I looked at myself, I concentrated on my eyes. There really was something new about them. The color hadn’t changed, but I could see a wiser, calmer look. The maturity appeared to radiate out of my eyes and through my face. I felt like a young girl realizing that once she had been cute and now she was on the threshold of real beauty. Dare I think it? Was I even prettier than Ava?
I always felt there was something cheap about Ava’s look. Her sexiness was more obvious. She was attractive in a more movie-star-glamorous sort of way. She had to wear enticing and revealing clothing. She had to do what she told me I had to do, be constantly aware of and employ her attributes, titillate with her nearly bare breasts and very tight skirts, whereas I was becoming a classic beauty, someone whose loveliness couldn’t be surpassed. In short, I didn’t think I had to try as hard as she did.
I expected I would be the more confident one and yet not the more arrogant one. In my heart of hearts, I hoped this was what Daddy saw in me, why, to me at least, his eyes always said, No matter what I tell the others, you will be Daddy’s best little girl.
Recently, I had gotten my driver’s license, and Daddy assigned one of our sedans to me. All I did was drive myself and Marla directly to school and drive us home after the last classes of the day. I was still forbidden to join any teams, go out for any stage productions, or become a member of any clubs. Without explaining exactly why it might be dangerous at the time, Daddy told me it was better for us not to have too high a profile. It was more advantageous for us to have less exposure.
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