C.C. said, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
Julie let her face drop. “I can’t tomorrow.”
“Maybe Sunday? We could go for a walk.”
“I—I don’t think so, C.C.”
“Oh.” He squinted at her. “Did I do something wrong?”
She shook her head quickly and put her finger to his lips. “No. Really. Nothing.” She glanced at the door. “I have to go in.”
“Maybe next weekend?”
She gave him a small smile. “Maybe.”
“But I’ll see you in school.”
“Sure. Of course.”
He took her hand. “Good.”
She squeezed his fingers. Released them, reached for the door handle, turned it, stepped inside, one finger to her lips, blew him a kiss, and closed the door.
Back at the car he didn’t see what the rush was for Charlie and Amanda, all wound into each other as they were. No g.d.d.h. was Amanda. She’d said she lived just a couple of blocks away and C.C. had to talk to Charlie so when they drove off C.C. was puzzled, Charlie driving in the wrong direction. “Charlie—” But by then he’d figured it out, they were going the right way, Charlie was taking C.C. home first. Damn.
•
“What’s g.d.d.h.?”
“Goddamn door hugger.”
“Oh.”
•
C.C. found it hard to go to sleep, in his brain and anatomically. He knew the two were connected, he’d gone hard lots of times long before he’d sensed and now resensed Julie’s lips pressing warm and soft on his. But lying in bed he couldn’t make his erection go away, infuriating, he didn’t want to think of her like that. She was way more than that, he wanted to remember dancing with her, her breasts and head against him as she ran her fingers slowly up and down his spine, as he pressed his lips against the top of her hair, as she stood with her toes on his socked feet, damn he should have taken off his socks, left them with his loafers. He got up and took a cool shower, which helped. Back to bed. He hoped he hadn’t wakened Bobbie by running the water. But if she guessed his thinking, she’d understand. Somehow she just knew these things.
Right after his bar mitzvah, after his judo training—first-rate idea, she’d thought—she sat him down. “Okay, my friend the man, time to talk about sex.” They talked for nearly an hour. It wasn’t as if she explained a lot he didn’t know, more how she filled in spaces between patches of information he’d picked up at school from stories and boasts, and who did it with whom and how. They talked about why sex could feel so good, and where the dangers lay, not only pregnancy and diseases but how sex could mess up your mind if you didn’t do it out of pleasure or love, if both the people involved didn’t do it for closeness to each other. Stuff way beyond the mechanics of locker room bragging and fretting. At the end of the hour he’d said, “Thanks, Bobbie, that was good.” And she’d said, “It’s a start.” Puzzled, he’d said, “We’ll talk some more?” “You with me, you with others. It’s a lifetime project.” She’d chuckled. “Me with others too.” So that when he was alone he thought, fuckinamazin. Bobbie too. Of course. He knew she dated guys but till right then he’d not really thought about Bobbie in that way, old as she was. A lifetime project.
Tonight, years after their sit-down, everything he’d understood—yeah he was smart, coolest guy on the block—tonight made full sense. Physically speaking. And no sense at all.
The weekend, all that free time he could’ve been with Julie, turned into unending gloom. Call her? She’d said she wouldn’t see him. Or couldn’t, he didn’t remember which. Because she’d be spending time with Stanley? Maybe just with her parents. He could at least talk with her on the phone. Saturday afternoon, he called. Nobody home.
His despair deepened. He had to dispel it. Think of something else, someone else. Talk to Bobbie. But Bobbie was gone for the weekend. Read a book. Couldn’t talk to Gramma, not about this. Watch television. Nothing worked. Julie’s face hovered smack in the middle of his brain. Last resort, his cello. He’d been taking lessons for five years. He’d never be great at it—he maybe had talent, but not enough commitment. Still, he enjoyed playing, loved the rich smooth-textured sound he could produce, and he’d get caught up in a long moment, committed to a thing that seemed as much part of him as outside him. He opened the case, removed the bow, the handsome deep-brown instrument, sat, tuned it. He drew the bow across the strings. Lush tones flowed from its hollows, fascinating him as much today as when Bobbie had, years ago, bought him its smaller brother. How had she known he’d take to it? Bobbie knew these things. He would play as if Julie were in the room, listening, watching his hands, his fingers, as he concentrated on creating opulent crescendos, sweet legatos, light allegros.
For a while it worked. He was moved into another realm. He liked to think of these moments as Moments, larger than either the music or his mind, embracing them both as he played, certain beyond question of himself, of his very breathing. But after barely an hour the Moment faded, leaving him alone, again unsure. Maybe the gloom weighed a little less.
In the evening he went to a movie with Charlie. He wanted to talk about Julie but Charlie was full of Amanda, fastest tongue in the northeast, they’d almost done it but then she freaked and he didn’t want to frost her so in the end she’d only done him. Still, it was fuckin’ unreal.
Wrong to mention Julie to Charlie tonight. Not how he wanted to talk about Julie, or even think about her. Except sex nothing but sex had been running around his brain despite what he wanted to think he wanted. Yeah, he could hear Bobbie saying that. Sunday afternoon he called Julie again. No, her father said, she’s out, won’t be back till tonight, too late to call.
During the week it didn’t get any clearer. In English and history she was always talking to somebody else. Until Wednesday when he saw her in the hall by herself, walking toward him before she saw him. So he stood still and smiled, and she saw him at last and smiled right back but just for a couple of seconds, then she dropped her eyes. He said, “Can we talk?”
She said, “About?”
“You know.”
She nodded. “C.C.—” But she half turned, looking at the wall now.
“Okay, we don’t have to talk.”
“I shouldn’t have—” Her glance dropped to the floor, then arced back to face him. “I’m sorry about Friday evening.”
“I’m not. But about everything since, I am.”
“I like you. I had to find out. But—there’s Stanley, my friend from—”
“I know who he is.”
“He was upset.”
“About?”
“Me. With you. At the dance.”
“Give me a break, Julie.” Did she tell Stanley? Or had somebody else?
“More than upset. Angry. He had to work, he said, and here I was tuning him out.”
“Julie.” This wasn’t any Julie he knew. “You don’t belong to him.”
She said nothing.
“Does he think he owns you?” He was being firm with her. He had to be. Owning someone: Bobbie’s notion.
She said nothing but her eyes blinked hard a couple of times.
And now he had to ask, “Do you think he owns you?”
Her head shook, a couple of tiny twitches.
“Great.” The world was real again. “Want to go for soda?”
She stared at him. “I do. But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She looked over his shoulder. “It’ll make Stanley angry again. I don’t want to do that.”
“How would he even—” But Stanley had friends everywhere, here, at the dance. Or Julie had friends—less than friends—who envied her. “Oh, Julie.”
Now she caught his glance again. “That’s why I said I was sorry.”
“What could he do?”
She shivered a little. “I don’t know.” And more controlled. “I don’t want to find out.”
“Julie?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. Pl
ease.”
She nodded, and walked on.
He turned to watch her. She started to turn, stopped herself, walked on.
He told Charlie. Charlie said, “She’s cute but she’s square. Lots of classy cuties out there.”
“Yeah I know, but—”
“Amanda’s got a cousin comin’ to town, she says she’s a blast, Tina I think.”
“I don’t want to get into—”
“Let’s say we four head out to the passion pit. Couple of good flicks. What say?”
What say. Say, what the hell. Say, sorry, Julie. He said, “I’ll think about it.”
“Well don’t think too long ’cause Amanda needs to fix Tina up for Saturday night and I got to find her somebody or she’ll get some asshole who I don’t want in the rod with me’n’ Amanda, catch?”
“Call you tonight.”
By evening C.C. was so pissed at Julie he called Charlie and told him, Sure. Charlie said Amanda said Tina’d be a hot date. By morning he felt stupid for letting Charlie lead him around and tried to get out of the hot date but Charlie reminded him he was owed one—hell, more than one—so it was on for Saturday with Terri, her name wasn’t Tina, C.C., better remember that.
The rest of the week was a total and complete drag. He saw Julie in class but they didn’t talk. He called her at home. Her mother went to get her, the mother came back apologetic, Julie couldn’t talk just now.
Saturday evening C.C. and Charlie picked up Amanda in a loose granny dress and Terri in jeans. The granny dress had a low V-neck. The jeans below a plaid blouse were loose, baggy, over a skinny young woman with short curly hair and a smile that tried. Not a total spaz but gettin’ there. C.C. and Terri in back, sitting and talking, where you from, what d’you do there, when’d you get here, how was the trip. In front it was Charlie, one hand on the wheel, and Amanda on the driver’s side of the seat. Off to the Sky-Glo Drive-In. Hook the speaker to the front window. Lights out. The first half of the double feature was Planet of the Apes; not what Charlie had told C.C. it’d be about, but Charlie and Amanda didn’t care. A quarter of the way in C.C. and Terri were getting along well enough to agree they had to switch seats with Charlie and Amanda. They couldn’t hear half of what was going on in the movie, too much distracting breathing and giggling from up front. They traded front for back and yep, back there Charlie and Amanda got to about cloud nine.
C.C. and Terri watched hard. The flick was okay, some interesting bits as far as C.C. was concerned but Terri sorta didn’t get it, kinda tried to talk about it but somehow missed it. C.C. knew Julie’d understand what he was thinking and he figured Julie’d make some boss comments about it. Though how he figured this he had no idea since he’d never been to a flick with Julie, maybe once or twice talked to her about some flick or other but that was all. From far away he heard Bobbie say, “Set the context.” Okay, C.C. would be nice to Terri, they’d watch the next flick, fifteen minutes till it started, hour and a half for the flick, in a couple of hours Charlie’d drop him at his place, drop Terri maybe, head out with Amanda. Just get through the next flick. Enjoy it.
“Hey, you guys want hot dogs?” Amanda said yes, Terri agreed. “C’mon C.C., let’s go get some dogs.”
They went off between the rows of cars, hundreds of cars and station wagons and pickups. “Also,” said Charlie, “I gotta pee. So. You like her?”
“Terri? She’s okay.”
“Yeah. Sorry, man.”
“I liked the flick.” He grinned at Charlie. “Whatcha think?”
“Yeah. Pretty damn good.” He laughed.
Lots of couples, whole bunch of kids from school. Past a pickup with the window closed, a quick glance and he’d have sworn he’d seen Julie, but when he looked again nobody behind the glass. After peeing they headed over to the concession stand, lined up, got their dogs, heavy on the ketchup and dripping with relish, cokes and dogs for Charlie and Amanda on a tray, a couple of dogs in hand for C.C. and Terri. Could it have been Julie? In the truck? They headed back, C.C. leading. Dogs that Gramma would have a cow over, the meat wasn’t from cows. But the thought didn’t make him grin.
“Hey,” said Charlie, “this way.”
C.C. plowed on, checking for the pickup he’d spotted before, a Ford. There, ahead. He stepped up to the passenger side, looked in the window. On the long front seat Julie’s head, her hair a mess, a head buried in her neck, pain in her wide open eyes. C.C. switched his right hand dog into his left, grabbed the door handle— Locked! Around the hood, between the Ford and an Olds sedan, fingers around the truck handle, and he pulled it open. Four legs, two in jeans and two bare, the jeans pair in boots, one foot in a small black shoe, the other bare, little toes he knew. He grabbed one of the boots and yanked, all his weight behind the pull, and the man came sliding out, plopped on the ground. “Julie! Get out!” The furious force of a man on the ground, on one knee— Behind him C.C. might have heard Charlie, maybe not, before the guy on the ground was up, belt open, fly down. “Get out!” C.C., one dog per hand now, slammed the guy on both sides of the face with the dogs, ketchup and relish in his ears and eyes. Julie, searching for her shoe— “Julie! Go!” She slid forward along the seat, grabbed a purse, pulled the button up, reached for the handle. The guy was near to standing, relish coming out of his nose. The guy was maybe a little shorter than C.C. but a lot broader. The guy was truly pissed. The guy—Stanley, C.C. figured, howdy-doo, Stanley—Stanley came at C.C., left hand holding pants, right fist back and lunging at C.C.’s head. Except suddenly Stanley was behind C.C., having flown there over C.C.’s left shoulder, a head-bounce off the sedan’s tire. Total silence till he heard Charlie whisper, “Holy shit.” A groggy Stanley pulled himself to his feet, C.C. staring at him, Stanley throwing his whole weight at C.C. but C.C. stepped to the side, foot out, C.C.’s shoulder low catching the tripping Stanley left on his chest and now Stanley slid under his Ford and lay still. Twenty seconds in all, maybe twenty-five. Charlie was holding on to Julie, terrified, in tears, breathing hard, to keep her from falling. Charlie said to C.C., “Come on, man. Let’s take her home.”
C.C. reached for Julie’s upper arm, touched her gently. “You okay?”
She was crying but she nodded yes.
“You want to go home?”
She nodded again.
Charlie said, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
They supported Julie one on each side and walked her to the Chevy. Amanda and Terri were standing talking next to the car. Charlie glanced at C.C., who gestured with his head, Get in. Charlie nodded, opened the front door, said to Amanda, “You first. Then Terri.” Amanda did, Terri followed. He closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and sat behind the wheel.
C.C. said, “You want to get yourself straightened up before going home?”
She looked at him carefully, as if studying his face. “Yes. Please.”
He opened the back door, she slid in, he followed. “Charlie, let’s go to my place.”
“Sure thing, man.”
No one spoke the whole way. Charlie said he’d take Terri and Amanda home, then come back for Julie and C.C.
At the house Gramma was asleep, Bobbie out for the evening. C.C. and Julie stood in the living room. “Want to take a shower?”
“I want to explain—”
“At least put some water on your face. You’ll feel better.” How did he know that? He showed her the bathroom, got her a washcloth and towel.
Ten minutes and she came back to the living room. She looked fine. A small smile on her lips. “Thank you. I left the towel and everything there.”
C.C. nodded. “Want some tea? A coke? Beer? Coffee?”
“A glass of water would be good.”
He brought her a glass of water. A beer for himself. He figured he deserved it.
She sat on the couch. He took a chair.
“I have to tell you—”
“You don’t have to say—”
“I do. It was maybe
—maybe my fault.”
“No way. I saw your face.”
“We watched the movie. We—made out. It didn’t feel, well, it felt kind of wrong, but not like bad wrong. Like it didn’t matter.”
C.C. nodded.
“And then when the movie ended, he said— He told me he’d just gotten his draft notice. On Wednesday. He—he has to report next Friday.”
Some horrible heaviness C.C. hadn’t realized was there lifted from his shoulders, his arms, the back of his head. “Hunhh,” was all he could say.
“And he said, before he went, he had to—he had to have me. It was like, I didn’t twig. You know? Like he just wanted to be close for a while. I didn’t want to, I mean we’d been making out and it hadn’t been really good but it wasn’t so bad either and I figured he wanted to do it some more and he was practically shipped out so I said, ‘Okay.’”
“Jeeze, Julie.”
“I didn’t know he meant what he meant, I really didn’t. And he started, and I saw you walk by, and I think he saw you too. He doesn’t know you but he saw me looking at you just for that second and he stopped, and said, ‘That’s him, right?’ and I said, ‘Who?’ and he said the guy you were dancing with, and I had to say yes. So he didn’t do or say anything for a while, like maybe a couple of minutes, he just stared ahead, I tried to talk to him but he didn’t answer. And then he reached out his hand to me, sorta gently, and I took it, and something must’ve hit him ’cause that’s when it all started, all of a sudden he was undoing his pants and making me reach for him and—” Her head shook. “He wasn’t being mean or anything but even when I told him no, no, don’t, it was like he couldn’t hear me, he was on top of me, heavy, and I couldn’t do anything—”
Her head seemed to shake all on its own. He stared at her face, her small pretty face, hair combed back now, a ponytail, no makeup far as he could tell. He stared at the ground. “You were able to look scared. That was plenty.”
“Yeah.”
“You scared me.”
She squinted at him, as if trying to see his face. “C.C.—you sure didn’t seem scared. You were amazing.”
He shook his head. He sipped his beer.
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