Dawn of a New Day

by Gilbert, Morris

  She thought about the painting all the way home, and when she pulled up in front of the house, she started inside with it; then she heard the sound of an engine and saw that Mark had pulled in behind her and jerked his car to a stop. Quickly Prue put the painting back into the car in its canvas wrapping and turned to Mark. “Hi,” she said. “How’s everything with you, Mark?”

  “Oh, getting ready for the prom. That’s what I came over to talk to you about.” He shifted uneasily, for somehow since he had kissed her the night he had brought her home from the Texaco station, there had been an awkwardness in his manner. She was somehow too much a childhood playmate, and he had vague feelings of wrongdoing about the caress. Still, he had thought about her a great deal, and now he said, “Getting geared up to do the senior prom.”

  “I’ll bet Debbie’s spent a lot of time picking out her dress.”

  “Well, you know Debbie. She really likes clothes.”

  “Are you two going to get married, Mark?” It was the first time she had ever asked Mark directly, and although Debbie had no ring, everyone seemed to be sure that she would have one soon enough. She watched as Mark pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration, or so it seemed to her.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Not for a long time; I’ve got some things to do first.”

  When Prue said nothing, he added, “But I came over to ask you if you wouldn’t like to go to the prom. Have you been asked yet?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Well, that won’t be any problem,” Mark said quickly. “I know half a dozen guys that would like to have a date.”

  “How tall are they?” Prue said, a tiny smile turning the corners of her generous lips up. When she saw Mark hesitate, she said, “Don’t worry about me, Mark. I don’t really want to go.”

  Mark hesitated, then shrugged. “All right, but if you change your mind let me know. There are always some fellows who wait till the last minute. Good-bye, Prue.”

  He went at once to Debbie’s house, and as he pulled up he felt a moment’s reluctance. Debbie’s mother was very society minded, and the house was like a museum. He told Debbie once, in a jocular fashion, “Your mother ought to make people take their shoes off like they do in China. Or is it Japan?” Debbie had not found that amusing, and he had not referred to it again.

  Moving up the porch, he rang the bell, and when Mrs. Peters opened it, he said, “Hello, Mrs. Peters. Is Debbie around?”

  “Yes. Come in, Mark.” Mrs. Peters was a small woman, overweight from rich foods. She had been pretty as a girl, Mark supposed. In fact he knew it, for he had seen pictures. She had looked exactly like Debbie when she was a young woman. This had given him some pause, and he had tried to visualize Debbie as a thirty-five- or forty-year-old woman. Mrs. Peters was all right, but she sure needed to lose some weight.

  “Have you decided about the football scholarships, Mark?”

  Mark hesitated, then said, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Mrs. Peters.”

  “Well, I know it would be thrilling for you to go to some of the schools in the East, but I’m hoping you will go to the University of Arkansas. It’s so close to home, and we’ll get to see you and Debbie so often.”

  “Well, that may be,” Mark said noncommittally. At that moment Debbie came in, and for the next half hour he was subjected to the latest on dresses for the prom. This was rather boring to Mark, to whom the prom was just another dance, but Debbie put special emphasis on it, and he made himself show all the interest he could possibly work up.

  “I guess we’d better get started if we’re going to catch the movie, Debbie,” Mark said, looking at his watch. He managed to maneuver her out, and Mrs. Peters gave the inevitable warning about “Drive safe, and have her home early; Mr. Peters will be here, and you two can talk about the university. He went there, you know, and played football.”

  Mark had heard this at least a hundred times, but he managed to keep himself from looking bored. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be in early.”

  They went to the movie, which was not particularly exciting, and as soon as they were out, Debbie said, “Let’s go down to Cranston’s and get something to eat.” Mark agreed, and he sat there eating a hamburger, drinking a chocolate malt, and listening to Debbie talk rapidly about the prom. Who was going with whom, and who was not going with whom. Finally they left, and when they pulled up at the Peters’ home, he shut off the engine and said, “Debbie, I’ve got to talk to you about something.”

  Debbie turned to him, her eyes wide with expectancy. “Why, yes, Mark,” she breathed, moving over closer to him. “What is it?”

  Mark had his mind on other things, or he would have noticed that Debbie was waiting for him so expectantly that it could only mean she was thinking that he might be about to propose. But Mark said, “I’ve got to tell you something that I haven’t told anyone else—not even my parents.”

  “Yes?” Debbie’s lips were parted as she moved even closer and reached out to hold his hand. “What is it, Mark?”

  “Well, I know everyone’s expectin’ me to go to college, and I could go on a scholarship, but that’s not what I want.”

  Debbie sat absolutely still. This was not what she had expected. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re going to college!”

  “Debbie, listen to me. College is right for some people. It’s probably right for you, but I want to be a writer, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t learn to write in college. Not the kind of writing I want to do.”

  “Of course writers go to college! What’s the matter with you, Mark? Everyone’s depending on you. I’m going to be there, and we’re going to have a wonderful time.” She spoke earnestly, and Mark sat silently, listening, but when she ended, his voice was stern.

  “I may go to college after a year, but I’m taking a year out to travel this country; I hope I can get a job with somebody as a reporter. Even if I can’t, I can write, and after it’s over I’ll know whether I’m fit to be a writer or not.”

  Debbie was furious. She, her mother, and her father had made careful plans. Both of her parents were planners, and Debbie had inherited their inclination to take over where others were concerned. At first she pleaded with Mark to listen to reason, telling him why it was foolish to waste a year. The scholarships wouldn’t be there a year later; he wouldn’t have any money. Even if he did come, she’d be a sophomore, and he would be only a freshman. On and on she went, and finally she said, “So, Mark, you see it’s impossible, don’t you?”

  Mark turned to her, and there was a determination in him as he said, “I’m sorry, Debbie, but my mind’s made up. I’m going to do this. It may mean we’ll have to postpone our plans for a while, but—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Debbie pulled away and sat glaring at him. “It’s not fair, and you’re being totally selfish!” She went on for some time, expecting him to change his mind. She had always been able to sway Mark. This time, however, she saw that her attempts were hopeless. She drew back from him and stepped outside the car, saying, “I’m not going to take this as your final answer! We’ve got our lives planned, and you can’t just break those plans! You have to think about other people!” She turned and walked away, leaving Mark to stare after her feeling defeated and frustrated.

  For the next week a state of unarmed warfare existed between Mark and Debbie. She was totally determined that he would go through with what she had considered the best plan, and Mark was just as determined not to do it. At one point he was dragged into the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Peters, who threw their weight behind Debbie, and all he could do was sit with his head half bowed and his teeth clenched. But he had finally said, “I am sorry if it disturbs you all, but I feel this would be the best thing for me, and the best for Debbie too, in the long run. I need to find out who I am. Can’t you see that?”

  The Peters could not see that, and at the end of the week when Debbie encountered Mark in
the hall at school, she said briefly, “I’m sorry that you’ve been so stubborn, Mark, but until you come to your senses, I think it’s best that we not see each other.” This had been the plan that her parents and she had agreed on, confident that it would bring Mark to his senses. Then she added quickly, “I also think it might be best if I went to the prom with Harry Findley.”

  Mark stared at her helplessly. “But, Debbie…” he began.

  But she shook her head and said, “I’m sure a little time apart will make you see reason, Mark.” She turned and walked away, and Mark, feeling as if he had been hit in the stomach, turned too and wandered down the halls, missing his next class and wondering how he had ever gotten himself into such a predicament.

  Prue was shocked when two days after Mark’s breakup with Debbie he told her what had happened. She was feeding the tiny fox that a neighbor had found in the woods, a vixen, and she looked up with astonishment from inside the pen where she kept the tiny animal. “What did you say, Mark?” She rose at once and stepped outside, saying to the fox, “No, Pulitzer, you stay in.” Then she turned and said, “You and Debbie have broken up?”

  “That’s about it. You want to hear the gory details?”

  “If you want to tell me.” Prue saw that he did want to talk, and the two walked slowly to the edge of the woods that flanked the Deforge farm. They sat down on a log, and Prue listened as Mark recounted the incident. When he was finished, he looked up at her with despair and said, “I guess you think I’m nutty, don’t you? Everybody will. Giving up all those scholarships to go traipsin’ all over the country.”

  Prue reached out and put her hands over his. “If that’s what you want to do, Mark, and you think it’s right, do it! But I believe you ought to talk it over with your parents, and all of you make the decision. It’s a family matter.”

  Mark looked relieved. “Well, gosh. It’s good to hear you say that, Prue. I been thinking I was the world’s worst punk. I’ll tell you, those fights with Debbie and listening to her parents just about did me in.”

  They sat there talking on and on, Prue mostly listening to Mark’s plans to travel the United States. It did not disturb her, for she knew if he went to college she would not see him often anyway. Finally, when he mentioned he was not going to the prom, she said instantly, “I think you ought to go, Mark.”

  “Why? What fun would it be?”

  “Well, it’s sort of the end of your high school career, and besides, I don’t want Debbie to think that she’s defeated you. You ought to get a date and go with your head up.”

  “No, I wouldn’t want to do that.” He looked at her and smiled warmly. “You’re good medicine, Prue. I was about ready to jump in the river, but it makes me feel good to know that at least one person thinks I’m not completely off my rocker.”

  Later that night, after supper, Mark called his parents together for a conference. They listened carefully as he explained what he wanted to do; finally Les said, “Is it really what you want, Mark? You’ll be giving up a lot, like college and football.”

  “Those things are important for some people, Dad, but honestly, they don’t mean a thing to me.” He looked at his mother and said, “Mom, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve always wanted to be a writer. It’s all I ever wanted to do; I could spend four years at the university, but I’ve read what I think are good writers. They didn’t learn it in college. It was something inside of them, and I think if I don’t try this, I’ll always think I missed the boat.”

  “Then you ought to do it, son,” Joy said. She came over, kissed him, and said, “I’ve seen something in you for a long time, and I’ve been waiting for you to tell us about it.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d understand, but I was wrong. I should have come to you.”

  They talked for a long time, and finally he mentioned not going to the senior prom, and he also related what Prue had said to him.

  “Prue’s absolutely right,” Les said. “You don’t want to go off like a whipped cur.”

  “Yes, and I know exactly who you should take.” Joy smiled. She looked at her husband and said, “Are you thinking what I am?”

  Les said, “Who would you really like to go with, Mark, of all the girls you know?”

  Mark hesitated, then blinked with surprise. “Why, Prue. I have more fun with her than anybody.”

  “Then you’ll ask her, and we’ll get her ready for the prom.”

  “But it’s only two days. She can’t get a dress—”

  “You do the asking, I’ll do the paying, and your mother will take care of the dress,” Les said forcefully.

  Prue put down the phone with a dazed expression on her face. She stood there for a long time, but her mother did not seem surprised. “Mom, didn’t you hear what I said? Mark wants me to go to the prom with him!”

  “Yes, and his mother and I have already talked about it. The three of us are going to Fort Smith today, and we’re going to find a dress that will make every other girl’s dress at the prom look like an old dishrag.”

  “Mother! You mean you knew?”

  Violet slipped over and put her arm around her daughter. She was forced to look up to her, but she squeezed her hard, saying, “It was Mark’s idea. He said he’d rather take you than any girl he knew, and I think he’s showing good sense.”

  When Mark pulled in front of the Deforge house and got out of the car, he felt rather strange. “All these years, and never once did I think I’d be taking Prue Deforge to the senior prom.” He was wearing a tuxedo, and when he knocked and Violet Deforge answered the door, she looked at him and let out a long whistle. “Well, aren’t you the handsome thing, though. Come in. Prue’s about ready.”

  Feeling more awkward than ever, Mark stepped inside, where he found Dent waiting. Dent grinned and said, “I like your monkey suit. How’d you like to wear one of those every day?”

  “I’d hate it,” Mark said, pulling at his collar, “but everybody’s got to wear one. I wish—” He stopped abruptly, for Prue appeared on the stairs, and he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

  The dress hunting expedition to Fort Smith had taken all day, and considerable cash and persuasion to get Prue fitted. But as Violet took in the sight of her daughter coming down the stairs, she thought, It was worth it!

  Prue’s dress was made of a light lavender taffeta that complemented her dark hair and eyes. It had a low, rounded neckline with a white bead trim and a high waist that fit snugly under her bosom, where it was accented by a darker lavender ribbon tied in the front. Long, see-through sleeves ended at the wrist in white bead trim; the skirt was narrow with a small slit up the right side to the knee, and the bottom of the dress barely touched the tops of her lavender bead-trimmed shoes. Her hair was done up into a looped bun with several small ringlets escaping around the sides and the nape of her neck.

  Prue came down the steps, walked right up to Mark and said, “I’m ready.”

  Mark swallowed hard and said, “You sure are! You look beautiful, Prue. Just beautiful.”

  Prue flushed and shot a quick glance at her mother, then at her father; then she laughed and said, “You’re beautiful too!”

  Mark handed her the orchid he had brought, and they went through the ceremony of pinning it on Prue’s dress.

  Mark said little as they drove to the prom, but he kept looking at Prue in a state of shock.

  He was not the only one, for when they entered, a murmur went around the room. They were somewhat late, and everyone turned to see them.

  “The word is out that Debbie and I have broken up,” Mark whispered as they walked into the room. He saw Debbie standing with her date, and she was glaring at them furiously.

  Prue made quite an impact that night. It was as if she was a stranger whom the young men had never seen before. Mark let many of them dance with her but finally said, “No soap, you guys! Go get your own date!”

  As they moved around the floor to the sound of the orchestra
playing Elvis’s newest hit, “You’re the Devil in Disguise,” Mark pulled her a little closer and said, “I can’t get over it, Prue. I always think of you as nursing a sick squirrel, or out grubbing in the garden. You look like—you look like a fashion model.”

  “They’re all skinny and bony, aren’t they?”

  He caught the humor in her eyes and grinned. “Not you,” he said. “You’re just right. Have you noticed how we just fit?”

  “That’s the only reason I like you, because you’re so tall.” Prue did not realize how provocative she was. Her eyes were sparkling, and her clear complexion glowed. Mark’s mother had bought her some perfume, and the saleslady had warned them, “Be careful. It’s dangerous.”

  They enjoyed the dance and finally made their way home. Mark pulled up in front of Prue’s house, got out, went around and opened the door, then walked her to the porch. “Your folks have probably gone to bed,” he said, seeing the dark house except for the porch light. “I guess they must trust me.”

  “Yes, they do. They think you’re something else, Mark—” Then she added, “and so do I.”

  “Do you, Prue?” He hesitated, then said, “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “Ever since I kissed you that night, I’ve been feeling guilty. It was like—well, I don’t know. It was like I kissed my sister almost. That’s sort of the way I always thought of you.”

  “I am not your sister!” Prue said with finality.

  “No, you’re not. I think I’m going to kiss you again. Do you mind?”

  Prue did not answer, but her silence gave assent. She felt his arms go around her, and his lips came to hers, then she responded to his kiss. She stepped back finally and said, “Good night, Mark. It was a wonderful evening.”

  When the door slammed, Mark was still standing there somewhat shocked at his reaction. “It’s like another person. She’s not the little kid that I dug fish bait with.” He went back to the car feeling ten feet tall, and as he drove away he looked back at the house and muttered, “Prudence Deforge, you have certainly grown up!”