Elsa knew from the start that she would be lonely here. Dafne hardly spent any time in the apartment. At the Grahams’ house in Lindenhurst, Chris and Katherine were always there, even when the masters were away. New York City reminded her of the big lonely rooms on Ellis Island, where people pressed in from every direction, yet they were only bodies, not personalities. Their presence only increased the loneliness. Here there were people everywhere—she couldn’t walk down a sidewalk without brushing by dozens of people, and in the market she had to hold her basket in front of her in order to cut through the crowd. When Dafne entertained, these anonymous people came in and out of the apartment. Seldom did anyone speak to or even seem to notice her.
In the early days, before Glenn left for base, Dafne and Glenn had taken her with them to Central Park, Washington Square, and even to Broadway. Elsa enjoyed it for the companionship, but the new sights didn’t fascinate her as they did Dafne. She had lived here before and knew the dark underside of the city. She suspected that Dafne, like many before and after her, loved the idea of New York City more than New York City itself. How long would it be before Dafne realized this as well?
Now that Glenn was gone, Dafne had new friends with whom she did these things. It was no longer appropriate to bring Elsa along. So Elsa spent her time alone. Her duties had thus far kept her too busy to visit her mother or her sister, but she planned to make time to see both as soon as possible.
By the time she had finished cleaning, Dafne was sound asleep on the couch. Elsa took the final half-empty champagne flute from the table beside her, debating whether to wake her mistress. For the sake of her crumpling dress, Elsa decided she should. She knelt down beside her and gently rubbed Dafne’s arm. The debutante half woke, smiling sweetly. Elsa smiled, too, wishing Glenn could have seen this genuine tenderness on his fiancée’s lips.
”Come, Miss Graham.” Elsa helped Dafne to her feet, then wrapped her arm around her bare back and walked upstairs. Dafne’s head rested on Elsa’s shoulder. They came into Dafne’s bedroom. Elsa switched on the light, which had been tinted soft, per Dafne’s instructions.
”Help me with my dress, dear. I’m so tired.”
Elsa froze for a moment. She had helped Dafne with her clothes before, but not since she had begun to wear these sorts of dresses. She recovered herself, but not before Dafne saw her hesitation and smiled. Elsa slipped the weightless dress up over Dafne’s head. She hung it up while her mistress waited for her. Elsa unhooked Dafne’s short girdle and garter belt, modestly trying to avert her eyes from Dafne’s bare breasts.
Despite Dafne’s tiredness and the alcohol she had drunk, Elsa knew she was watching her, perhaps even testing her, but she didn’t understand why.
She quickly found Dafne’s nightgown, but before putting it on, Dafne sat on her bed and made Elsa pull off her silk stockings. Once Dafne was safely covered in her nightgown, Elsa finally looked her in the eyes. She realized that this had not been a test but an invitation. The moment she realized it, the moment had passed.
”Thank you,” Dafne said sweetly, climbing into bed. “Good night.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hal
Despite the late party, Glenn awoke early. Military habits, even after only a few weeks, had changed his body clock. The phone rang earlier than he expected, but it was Hal, not Dafne.
“I’m passing by right now on my way to the Boylston Club for breakfast,” he said. “Come down.”
Glenn was already dressed, and breakfast did sound good.
Outside the hotel, Hal leaned against a post in his shirtsleeves, puffing on a cigarette.
“Good morning!” Hal clapped Glenn on the back. “Let’s go, I’m starving.
The Boylston Club was only a few blocks from the Carlton.
“Here you will find the sorts of men I associate with,” Hal said. “Shallow chaps blessed with easy money and carefree days.”
Glenn laughed. He usually disliked the boisterous atmosphere at gentlemen’s clubs but anticipated that it wouldn’t be rowdy yet at this hour.
“You know, buddy,” said Hal immediately after they had ordered their meal, “you and I are not so different. We both have money we didn’t earn; you went to Harvard, I went to Columbia. Yet I’ve known you a whole day and I don’t understand you anymore than I could understand a horse. Why you’ve chosen to join the army of your free will is a complete mystery to me.”
Glenn smiled. He had certainly doubted his decision during these early weeks. Hal’s attitude toward it actually helped him to remember his reasons for joining.
“I want to feel that my life has some worth.” It was the most common explanation he used. Hal had not been the first to ask.
“Of course you do. So do I. But how is turning your life over to Mr. Wilson going to give it worth?”
“I believe it can.”
“Do you have any idea how idiotic that sounds? You’re going to be miserable, and at the end of it all you might die! Sure, I’m not making much worth of my life right now, but at least I’m having a hell of a good time.”
Glenn smiled. He glanced around the room, which was noisier than he had expected at breakfast. There were about a dozen other men there. On the walls, there hung mementos of sporting successes, mostly golf and horse racing.
“Tell me, then,” he said, “what would give life value?”
Hal shrugged.
“I’m not the one trying to validate myself, so I don’t know the answer.”
“If I were an artist, would you say that had value?”
“Only if you were a very special artist.”
“What about a statesman?”
“Certainly not!”
“A clergyman?”
“Maybe, but I’m inclined to say no.”
Glenn laughed. After a second Hal laughed too.
“Maybe you don’t try to find value in life because you don’t even believe in it,” said Glenn.
“Au contraire! My life has value to me. I make the most of each day and enjoy it fully. I have nothing to complain about. So I’m content.”
“I don’t know why I can’t live that way.”
“’Cause you’re a do-gooder son of a gun! Look at you—you have everything. Look at that girl of yours. If I were you I’d marry her as quickly as possible and then never leave the house. But you have to go on your moral quest for meaning.” He broke off. “Ho, waiter!”
Their breakfasts and a pot of coffee were placed on the table. After a few mouthfuls, when Hal spoke again, it was with more thoughtfulness than Glenn had yet heard from him.
“Another thing I don’t understand: you make yourself out to be such a moralist . . . a good Christian, I suppose. And yet you are eager to fight in this war? It doesn’t make sense.”
Glenn was confounded. “It’s a moral war!”
Hal snorted. “This war is less moral than I am!”
“You don’t support us entering it?”
“Actually I do, because I have few morals. I just wish people like you could admit what’s at stake. Germany is fighting against England and France for control of Europe. Good old Wilson down in Washington is working for a peace that will increase America’s power. But inevitably he’ll send you and maybe me over to gain power by force.”
“That’s not the reason we’ll join. Germany’s aggression has to be stopped! Have you read about the atrocities they’re committing in France and Belgium?”
“Oh, please! That’s just war. France wanted the war as badly as Germany did. They waited for Germany to make the first move because they knew it would bring England in. Why do you think public opinion here turned as soon as the German U-boats hit the water? Because it disrupts American trade routes. The politics are all based on commercialism and power. Personally I’d love to see American power grow, so I’m all for it. But don’t tell me it’s a moral war. If you can’t see that then you’re a blind soldier.”
Glenn sat, dumbfounded. Of course the war was mo
ral from the Allied side. He refused to believe what Hal said. He picked at his breakfast, struggling to regain his appetite.
“What does that girl of yours think about your moral quest for suffering and hard labor?” asked Hal after a minute.
“I bet she ain’t so thrilled with it.”
“She likes that it has brought us to the city.”
“No doubt. She’s a small-town flower who’s never had the chance to bloom. But mark my words, her charm will either fade or come between you. New York City is not the right place for you, Glenn. I barely know you, but it’s obvious. On base you can forget you’re in the city, but once this war is over, you’ll want to be back in your sleepy village on Long Island.”
Glenn nodded. On this point, he knew Hal was right.
“So if your girl loves it here as much as you say, what will you do? Will you stay in a place you don’t like just to please her?”
Glenn said nothing. Dafne was a lot like Hal, wanting to enjoy her life to the fullest and live in the moment. Often he wished he could be more like them, but that kind of life wouldn’t make him happy. He needed to work. That was why the army suited him. Yes, it was difficult, but now that he was committed, he couldn’t quit. For a man like him who had no urgency to earn an income, joining the army had been the surest way to jolt him out of the leisure that dissatisfied him so much.
After breakfast, Glenn returned to his hotel, expecting a message from Dafne, but she hadn’t yet called. He waited in his room for another hour before she finally called, having slept into the early afternoon after her party. By the time she was dressed and ready they only had a short time together before going to see a play in midtown. Returning to base on Sunday, Glenn felt his visit had been very short. He wouldn’t be able to leave again for two more weeks. He resumed his training, frustrated but newly motivated by his work.
Dafne had looked forward all week to Glenn’s next visit. Hal would be joining him on the Brooklyn train, and they all three planned to go to the opera on Saturday. It would be her first time at the Metropolitan Opera House on Broadway and 40th.
Hal accompanied Glenn uptown on Saturday morning but made his visit at Dafne’s apartment brief.
“I’ll mosey on down to the ‘Bilt and let you lovebirds get reacquainted,” he said. “Remember, dinner promptly at six. We can’t be late for the opera.”
“I can’t wait,” said Dafne.
”Neither can I. This new Strauss is supposed to be really something!”
Dafne and Glenn stood with their hands clasped until the door closed behind him.
“Glenn, Glenn!” Dafne tossed her arms around his neck. “Oh, I have so much to tell you.” She led him to the sofa and launched into the tales of her new life in New York. There was gossip of new friends, reviews of musicals on Broadway, and a description of her new favorite pastime—motion pictures.
“Everybody’s been so nice to me. I haven’t been lonely at all. Thelma has introduced me to all her friends. I’ve been invited to teas and parties almost every night.” She paused suddenly. “You don’t care, do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I know.” She smiled, squeezing him in her arms again. “But you don’t care where I’ve been or who I’ve seen. The names don’t mean anything to you.”
“Not really. But I like the way you tell me about it.”
“I wish you could be here all the time. When you finish your romp in the army and we get married, we should live right here.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer a big place down in the Forties?”
Her face crinkled in brief consideration. “No.” She quickly waved her head from side to side. “I like my little apartment just the way it is.”
Glenn said nothing, content to bask in her glow. She liked glowing for him.
Elsa soon had lunch ready. Excited as Dafne was about their evening plans, she had looked forward to this afternoon alone with Glenn too.
After lunch, Dafne threw herself onto the couch. Glenn sat on the opposite side from her. Giving him a glance of reproof, she rearranged her body to lay her head on his lap. His hand stroked her hair a few times before resting timidly on his own leg. Dafne sighed.
After cleaning up from lunch, Elsa had slipped discreetly upstairs. Dafne noticed and wondered whether Glenn had, too.
“I love you, Glenn.”
“I love you, too.”
She reached for his hand and placed it back on her head.
”Why are you afraid to touch me?”
He shifted uneasily. “What do you mean?”
“I feel like all you ever do is kiss me.” She tilted her face to smile at him. “I like it when you kiss me. You could do more, though. I wouldn’t push you away.” She relaxed her head and hugged his bent knee. “This is nice.”
“Soon, darling,” he said. “Soon there will be much more we can do together.”
She sighed again. He often referred to their married life this way. His excuses tired her. She respected him for his Christian morals, even as she hoped to make him break them. She would be a good wife, but longed to live a little more now.
Did he want to touch her? Did he want to make love to her? Was she attractive to him? She desperately wanted to think so, but he gave her no indication that he did. He often told her she was beautiful, but if he really thought so, how could he so easily keep his hands off her? Here she was practically offering her whole body to him, yet she had to twist her head just to make him start rubbing her hair again!
These were the moments she craved, yet when they came, they left her unsatisfied. It was easier to fill their time with activities.
How would he respond if she took his hand right now and placed it on her breast? Would it arouse him for more, or would he be repulsed? She wanted to do it but couldn’t risk it. The thought first made her smile, but then a wave of insecurity came over her.
She took so much time making herself beautiful. She was the toast of New York City, but her efforts seemed to have no effect on him. Did he think her ugly? She had put on a few pounds since the beginning of their relationship. Had he ceased to find her attractive yet didn’t dare to say so? If he truly thought her beautiful, he should be longing to tear off her clothes and cover her body with his hands and lips. Was it too much to ask that he lust for her?
Even Elsa couldn’t look at her that night when she asked her servant to undress her, unsure herself what she desired. All she really wanted was to feel loved. Was that so much to ask?
She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to cry.
She might have, except that Glenn’s hand finally moved from her head and rested on her shoulder. It was a small gesture, but enough to ease her insecurity.
Elsa had allowed herself to doze off when she heard the apartment door crash open. She hurried downstairs as Dafne, Glenn and Hal came in.
“Oh, Elsa, it was wonderful!” Dafne shouted. “I wish you could have seen it. Remind me to buy a record of Der Rosenkavalier once it’s published.”
Hal walked straight past Elsa into the kitchen. She glanced disapprovingly as he invaded her domain. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
“Where did that come from?” asked Dafne with delight.
“I stashed it this morning.”
“Well, aren’t you spunky!”
He looked at Elsa. “Come on now, girl, be a sport and fetch me some glasses and ice.”
She stood a few obstinate seconds, staring at him with ire, then reluctantly obeyed.
“I don’t know, Hal,” said Glenn. “It is rather late, and Dafne and I don’t drink much.”
“That’s why I need to loosen you up.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” said Dafne. “A drink or two won’t hurt you.”
Elsa watched Glenn’s face ease into consent. She understood. He didn’t want to get in the way of Dafne’s fun.
Hal balanced his rocker on the edge of Dafne’s gramophone while he stacked records inside. As the music began h
e picked his glass back up and began a silly dance with his drink. Glenn and Dafne both laughed at him. He paused and looked at Dafne.
“Are you going to dance with me, or should I continue with my glass?”
“Oh, your glass, to be sure.”
He gazed affectionately at the glass, then with a sudden dramatic inspiration, took on a strange manner which made no sense to Elsa, but which Glenn would tell her the next day, mimicked the comical Baron from the opera they had just seen.
“Beautiful Mariandel,” he sang to his glass, “although you are not what you seem, I love you just the same.”
He twirled and hummed the song from the opera, which clashed mercilessly with the ragtime records.
“Do shut up, or I’ll have to dance with you!”
“Too late. I’m happy with my sweet Mariandel.”
“Oh, shut up!” Dafne exploded with laughter.
Elsa watched from the kitchen as Hal poured each another drink.
She could feel the room growing louder and more out of control. Hal’s ridiculous speeches and Dafne’s laughter dominated the sounds, but even Glenn’s voice had begun to rise. She had seen Dafne get drunk and giggly before and didn’t really mind. It wasn’t her place. But she didn’t want to see Glenn like this. She had come to know him as a controlled and steady man. She liked him that way. Though he was obviously not excited about this scene, he had succumbed to the pressure from his fiancée and friend. She understood it would have been hard for him to resist, but she wished she didn’t have to watch it.
Hal bounced up to her with a small glass he had just poured. He thrust it toward her while Dafne giggled behind him. Elsa left her hands folded in front of her and scowled at him.
“Tell your girl she needs to have a drink with the gentleman.”
“Go on, Elsa,” Dafne said. “It’ll be fun!”
Elsa, like Glenn, usually had difficulty saying no when things were demanded of her. But this wasn’t one of those times. Hal’s drunkenness made him look weak and ridiculous to her. She stood staring back at him, rigid and angry until he couldn’t help but look away.
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