Brooklyn

by Colm Toibin

  Eilis was shocked by Dolores’s appearance when she went upstairs at ten o’clock and found her. She was wearing a cheap leather jacket, like a man’s, and a frilly white blouse and a white skirt and almost black stockings. The red lipstick seemed garish against her freckled face and bright hair. She struck Eilis as looking like a horse-dealer’s wife in Enniscorthy on a fair day. Eilis almost fled downstairs as soon as she saw her. Instead, she had to smile as Dolores said that she would need to go upstairs and fetch her winter coat and a hat. Eilis did not know how she was going to sit beside her in the hall with Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan avoiding her on one side and Patty and Diana arriving with all their friends.

  “Are there great fellas at this?” Dolores asked when they reached the street.

  “I have no idea,” Eilis replied coldly. “I go only because it is organized by Father Flood.”

  “Oh, God, does he hang around all night? It’ll be just like home.”

  Eilis did not reply and tried to walk in a way that was dignified, as though she were going to eleven o’clock mass in the cathedral in Enniscorthy with Rose. Each time Dolores asked her a question she answered quietly and did not tell her much. It would be better, she thought, if they could walk in silence to the hall, but she could not ignore Dolores completely, although she found that, as they stood waiting for traffic lights to change, she was clenching her fists in pure irritation each time her companion spoke.

  She had imagined that, when they were in the hall, Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan would sit away from them once they had left their coats in the cloakroom and found a position from which to survey the dancers. But instead their two fellow lodgers moved closer to them, all the more to emphasize that they had no intention of speaking to them or consorting with them in any way. Eilis observed how Dolores let her eyes dart around the hall, her brow knitted in watchfulness.

  “God, there’s no one here at all,” she said.

  Eilis stared straight in front of her pretending that she had not heard.

  “I’d love a fella, would you?” Dolores asked and nudged her. “I wonder what the American fellas are like.”

  Eilis looked at her blankly.

  “I’d say they’re different,” Dolores added.

  Eilis responded by moving away from her slightly.

  “They’re awful bitches, those other ones,” Dolores went on. “That’s what the boss-woman said. Bitches. The only one of them is not a bitch is you.”

  Eilis looked at the band and then stole a glance at Miss McAdam and Sheila Heffernan. Miss McAdam held her gaze and then smiled archly, dismissively.

  When Patty and Diana arrived, they came with an even larger group than before. Everyone in the hall seemed to notice them. Patty had her hair tied back in a bun and was wearing heavy black eye-liner. It made her appear very severe and dramatic. Eilis noticed that Diana pretended not to see her. It was as though the very arrival of this group was a signal to the musicians, who had been playing old waltzes with just the piano and some of the bass players, to play some tunes that Eilis knew from the girls at work were called swing tunes and were very fashionable.

  As the music changed, some of Patty and Diana’s group began to applaud and cheer, and when Eilis caught Patty’s eye, Patty signalled to her to come towards them. It was a tiny gesture but it was unmistakable and, having made it, Patty kept staring over at her almost impatiently. Suddenly, Eilis decided she would stand up and walk over towards their group, smiling confidently at them all, as though they were old friends. She kept her back straight as she moved and tried to appear as if she were in full possession of herself.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she said quietly to Patty.

  “I think I know what you mean,” Patty replied.

  When Patty suggested that they go to the bathroom, Eilis nodded and followed her.

  “I don’t know what you looked like sitting there,” she said, “but you sure didn’t look happy.”

  She offered to show Eilis how to put on the black eye-liner and some mascara and they spent time at the mirror together, ignoring everyone who came in and out. With extra clips that she carried in her bag, Patty put Eilis’s hair up for her.

  “Now, you look like a ballet dancer,” she said.

  “No, I don’t,” Eilis said.

  “Well, at least you don’t look like you’ve just come in from milking the cows any more.”

  “Did I look like that?”

  “Just a bit. Nice clean cows,” Patty said.

  Finally, when they went back into the body of the hall, the place was crowded and the music was fast and loud and many couples were dancing. Eilis was careful where she looked or moved. She did not know if Dolores had remained seated where she had left her. She had no intention of going back there and no intention either of catching Dolores’s eye in the hall. She stood with Patty and a group of her friends, including a young man with heavily oiled hair and an American accent who tried to explain the dance steps to her above the noise of the music. He did not ask her to dance, seeming to prefer to stay with the group; he glanced at his friends regularly as he took her through the steps, showing her how to move in time to the swing tunes that were becoming faster now as the dancers on the floor responded to them.

  Eilis slowly became aware of a young man looking at her. He was smiling warmly, amused at her efforts to learn the dance steps. He was not much taller than she was, but looked strong, with blond hair and clear blue eyes. He seemed to think what was happening was funny as he swayed to the music. He stood alone, and when she caught his eye, having turned away for a moment, she was surprised at the expression on his face, which was unembarrassed at the fact that he was still looking at her. She was sure that he was not part of Patty and Diana’s group; his clothes were too ordinary and he was not in any way dressed up. As the band lifted the tempo once more, everyone began to cheer and the man who had been trying to teach her the steps attempted to say something to her but she could not make out the words. When she turned towards him she discovered that he was saying that maybe they could dance together later when the beat was not so fast. She nodded at him and smiled and moved towards Patty, who was still surrounded by some of her friends.

  When the music stopped some couples separated, others went to the bar for sodas or remained on the dance floor. Eilis saw that the man who had been teaching her the steps was now going to dance with Patty, and it struck her that Patty must have asked him to pay attention to her and he had done so merely to be kind. As Diana brushed by her, making clear that she was not speaking to her, the young man who had been looking at her approached.

  “Are you with that guy who was teaching you the steps?” he asked. She noticed his American accent and his white teeth.

  “No,” she said.

  “So, can I dance with you?”

  “I’m not sure I know the steps.”

  “No one does. The trick is to look as though you do.”

  The music started up and they moved among the dancers. Her companion’s eyes, she thought, were too big for his face but then when he smiled at her he appeared too happy for that to matter. He was a good dancer but not showy in any way and did not try to impress her or do better than she did and she liked that. She studied him as closely as she could because she was sure that if she let her eyes wander she would find Dolores still sitting where she had left her, waiting for her to return.

  When she had danced the first set with him and the music stopped he introduced himself as Tony and asked her if he could buy her a soda. She knew this meant that she would have to stay with him for the next dance, and since by then Dolores might have gone home or found someone of her own to dance with, she agreed. As they passed Diana and Patty, she saw both of them taking Tony in, looking him up and down. Patty made a sign as if to say that he was not quite up to her standard. Diana simply looked away.

  The next dance was slow and Eilis was worried about moving too close to Tony, although it was difficult not to, as there
were many dancers on the floor. For the first time she was aware of him, sensing that he too was trying not to move too near, and she wondered if he was being considerate or if this meant that he did not like her very much. At the end of this set, she thought, she would thank him and go to the cloakroom, get her coat and go home. If Dolores complained about her to Mrs. Kehoe, she could say that she did not feel well and had to leave early.

  Tony was able to move easily to the music without making an exhibition of himself or of her. As they made their way around the floor to the sound of a moody show tune on the saxophone, Eilis knew that no one was paying any attention to them. She felt the heat from him, and when he tried to say something she smelled a sweetness from his breath. For a second she looked at him again. He was carefully shaved and his hair tightly cut. His skin looked soft. When he caught her looking at him he twisted his mouth in amusement and this made his eyes seem even larger than before. For the last tune in the set, which was by far, she thought, the most romantic, he moved his body closer to her. He did this tactfully and gradually; she could feel the pressure and strength of him against her as she, in turn, moved closer too, until they were wrapped around each other for the last minutes of the dance.

  As they turned to applaud the band, he did not catch her eye but stood beside her as though it were inevitable, already decided, that they would stay together for the next dance. There was too much noise around them for her to hear what he said when he attempted to speak but it seemed to be just a friendly comment about something so she nodded and smiled in reply. He looked happy and she liked that. The music that began now was even slower than before and it had a beautiful melody. She closed her eyes and let him touch her cheek with his. They were hardly dancing at all, just swaying to the sound, as were most other couples on the floor.

  She wondered who he was, this young man she was dancing with, and where he came from. He did not seem Irish to her; he was too clean-cut and friendly and open in his gaze. But she could not be sure. There was nothing at all of the tailored poise of Patty and Diana’s friends. It was also hard to imagine what he did for a living. She did not know as they smooched together on the dance floor if she would ever get a chance to ask him.

  At the end of the set the man playing the saxophone took up the microphone and, in an Irish accent, explained that the best part of the evening was ahead, in fact was about to start now, since they were going to play some céilí tunes as they had the previous weeks. They were going to ask those who knew the dance steps to take the floor first, and, he added to cheers and whistles, he hoped they would not all be from County Clare. When he gave the signal, he said, everyone else could join in; then it would be the same free-for-all that they had enjoyed the previous weeks.

  “Are you from County Clare?” her companion asked her.

  “No.”

  “I saw you the first week but you didn’t stay until the end so you missed the free-for-all and you weren’t here last week.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I looked for you and didn’t see you.”

  Suddenly a tune began; when she glanced at the stage she saw that the band had transformed itself. The two saxophone players had become a banjo player and an accordion player and there were two fiddle players as well as a woman playing an upright piano. There was also the same drummer. A number of dancers moved into the centre of the hall and now became the focus of attention as they managed a set of intricate movements with immense confidence and speed. Soon, they were joined by others, equally skilful, to the sound of whoops and cheers from the crowd. The music grew faster; all the instruments together were led by the accordion player; the dancers made a loud noise with their shoes against the wooden floor.

  When the accordion player announced that they were going to do “The Siege of Ennis” more dancers took to the floor, and they began to change from ordered dancing towards the free-for-all the man had mentioned earlier. As Tony suggested they take the floor also, Eilis quickly agreed, even though she did not know how to do the steps. They found a group who were standing in two lines facing each other, with a man giving instructions through a microphone on what should happen next. A dancer from each end—a man and a woman—moved into the centre and swung around before returning to their original place. Then it was the turn of the next dancer until each had had a moment in the centre. The two lines of dancers then came forward to confront one another and, once that was done, one line put their arms in the air and let the other through, thus finding themselves opposite a new line of dancers. As the playing went on, the shouting and laughing and roaring instructions grew louder and more intense. Great energy was put into the whirling and turning in the centre and banging the floor with their shoes. By the time the last tunes were played and everyone seemed to understand the basic steps and movements, Eilis could see that Tony loved this and put as much effort as he could into getting it right while making sure also that he did not do more than she did. She felt that he was holding himself back for her.

  As soon as the music stopped he asked her where she lived; when she told him he said that it was on his way home. There was something about him now, something so innocent and eager and shiny, that she almost laughed out loud as she said yes, that he could walk her home. She told him that she would meet him outside when she had fetched her coat. When she went to the cloakroom, she watched out for any sign of Dolores in the queue.

  It was freezing outside; they moved slowly through the streets huddled against each other, hardly speaking at all. When they came close to Clinton Street, however, he stopped and turned and faced her.

  “There’s something you’ve got to know,” he said. “I’m not Irish.”

  “You don’t sound Irish,” she said.

  “I mean I’m not Irish at all.”

  “None of you?” She laughed.

  “Not a single bit.”

  “So where are you from?”

  “I’m from Brooklyn,” he said, “but my mom and dad are from Italy.”

  “And what were you doing—”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “I heard about the Irish dance and I thought I’d go and look at it and I liked it.”

  “Do the Italians not have dances?”

  “I knew you were going to ask me that.”

  “I’m sure they’re wonderful.”

  “I could take you some night but you would have to be warned. They behave like Italians all night.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I don’t know, but bad because if I had gone to an Italian dance I wouldn’t be walking you home now.”

  They continued in silence until they reached the front of Mrs. Kehoe’s house.

  “Can I collect you next week? Maybe get something to eat first?”

  Eilis realized that this invitation would mean that she could go to the dance without having to take the feelings of any of her fellow lodgers into account. Even for Mrs. Kehoe, she thought, it would serve as an excuse not to have to accompany Dolores.

  Later, during the week, as she was making her way from Bartocci’s to Brooklyn College, she forgot what she was looking forward to; sometimes she actually believed that she was looking forward to thinking about home, letting images of home roam freely in her mind, but it came to her now with a jolt that, no, the feeling she had was only about Friday night and being collected from the house by a man she had met and going to the dance with him in the hall, knowing that he would be walking her back to Mrs. Kehoe’s afterwards. She had been keeping the thought of home out of her mind, letting it come to her only when she wrote or received letters or when she woke from a dream in which her mother or father or Rose or the rooms of the house on Friary Street or the streets of the town had appeared. She thought it was strange that the mere sensation of savouring the prospect of something could make her think for a while that it must be the prospect of home.

  Around Mrs. Kehoe’s table, Eilis’s ditching of Dolores, which Patty, having fully witnessed, informed the others a
bout before breakfast on Saturday morning, meant that they were all speaking to her again, including Dolores herself, who viewed being ditched, since it had resulted in Eilis meeting a man, as eminently reasonable. In return for this view, Dolores wanted only to know about the boyfriend himself, his name, for example, and his occupation, and when Eilis intended to see him again. All of the other lodgers had scrutinized him carefully as well; they thought him handsome, they said, although Miss McAdam might have wished him taller, and Patty did not like his shoes. All of them presumed that he was Irish, or of Irish origin, and all of them begged Eilis to tell them about him, what he had said to her that made her dance the second set with him and if she was going to the dance the following Friday night and if she expected to see him there.

  The following Thursday evening, when she went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea, she met Mrs. Kehoe in the kitchen.

  “There’s a lot of giddiness in the house at the moment,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “That Diana has a terrible voice, God help her. If she squeals once more, I’ll have to get the doctor or the vet to give her something to calm her down.”

  “It’s the dancing is doing it to them,” Eilis said drily.

  “Well, I’m going to ask Father Flood to preach a sermon on the evils of giddiness,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “And maybe he might mention a few more things in his sermon.”

  Mrs. Kehoe left the room.

  On Friday evening at eight thirty Tony rang on the front door bell, and, before Eilis could escape from the basement door and alert him to the impending danger, the door was answered by Mrs. Kehoe. By the time Eilis reached the front door, as Tony told her later, Mrs. Kehoe had asked him several questions, including his full name, his address and his profession.