Worlds Apart

by Luke Loaghan

  Delancey looked shocked. “I didn’t realize you two were still together.”

  “We’re not…we are not together. We’re just friends,” I said quickly.

  “Wow,” Delancey said, with flushed cheeks. She appeared devastated. I was livid with Sam for telling her about my situation.

  “Are you going to the dance?” I asked her.

  “I’m no longer sure. I thought I might have had a date, and now that doesn’t seem to be the case,” Delancey replied.

  “Well maybe you and I could go together. I’m a real good dancer,” Sam said. I was in disbelief. One minute he wasn’t going, and the next he was asking out Delancey, right in front of me.

  “I don’t think so,” Delancey said curtly. She looked at me and said, “By the way, there is a fundraiser this Friday night in Long Island…my mom is part of the group hosting. I came by to invite you; you should come, it will be a lot of fun, and I’ll get you in for free. You…can…bring who…ever.”

  Before I could answer, Sam said, “We’ll be there, just give me the details.”

  Delancey gave us an invitation and left. Sam was pleased with himself.

  “First of all…I don’t know where to even begin! Why did you tell Delancey about me going to the April Dance with Svetlana? Second of all, you said you could not go to the dance…and third of all, you ask her out, right in front of me, and fourth of all, I don’t want to go to some stuffy fundraiser. We’ll be completely out of place. Those are rich Long Island people and two boys from Queens are going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “Listen to me carefully….this is a good opportunity for you to see the other side. Rich people are great, very friendly, and it will do you some good. Besides you owe it to Delancey after stomping on her heart. You agreed to take Svetlana to the dance, not me. Also, it’s for a good cause, it’s a fundraiser. Charity is a good thing. Now, I will be going to the dance…to dance with Delancey. I’ll find a way,” Sam said.

  The address on the invitation read Oyster Bay. It sounded so far away. A few things in life made me uncomfortable; being held at gunpoint in Central Park was one of them. Dancing in public was another. But the thing that made me most uncomfortable was being around rich people. I wasn’t ashamed that my father was one of the hardest working poor people on the planet. But I was not willing to be scrutinized by the rich. The last thing I needed was to go to this fundraiser, but Sam would not let me out of it, and now Delancey was expecting me.

  I went shopping for clothes to wear to Delancey’s fundraiser and the dance. I ended up on Steinway Street in Astoria, a busy shopping area with stores run by mostly Greeks. I told the clerk my dilemma, that I needed an outfit for two occasions, and he sold me something that he said would be perfect. I was a little hesitant; after all, the guy dressed like a night club owner in Athens, with gold chains covering his hairy chest. I paid for it with the money I made from the café last weekend.

  On Thursday, I went to the Ziegfield movie theater in the city, with Svetlana. She wore a leather skirt and white sweater. Her hair was made up nicely, but she had a strange expression on her face. She was not her usual self, and seemed aloof. We sat and watched the movie. Let me repeat that…we sat and watched the movie, in its entirety. There was no physical contact between us. She didn’t want to hold hands. She didn’t want to sit close, nothing at all. I wondered if it was this cold in Siberia. When the date ended, I looked at her as she walked away, and knew that my friendship with Svetlana was just about over.

  On Friday, I was dreading the entire fundraiser ordeal. At lunch, Delancey confirmed our attendance. Sam asked her what to wear, and she said it was a dressy event.

  “I don’t own a dress,” Sam said and then chuckled. Delancey seemed annoyed that Sam would be accompanying me. We would have to take the Long Island Railroad to Oyster Bay and then take a cab.

  “My dad is going to pick us up at eleven. So going back won’t be that bad.” For all the trouble he’s worth, Sam always had a plan.

  We decided to meet at the Nathan’s Hot Dog stand in Penn Station at seven o’clock. I wore my new suit and my father said I looked very European.

  Sam was wearing a gray suit, white shirt, and skinny leather tie. His black shiny shoes matched his tie. He looked preppy and even wore a Harvard lapel pin. If Sam could carry a large flag that read “I’m going to Harvard” he would.

  Sam laughed when he saw me. He said that I looked “like a Greek night club owner,” and then asked me for a souvlaki. It was going to be a long night.

  We took the long ride on the Long Island Railroad. Through the dusty windows of the train, the congested streets of Queens flashed by. I had butterflies in my stomach; I had never been to Long Island before, and I didn’t know what to expect. I pictured myself in my strange outfit, and my Queens accent, trying to fit in.

  We had to take a cab from the station to the house. When the cab pulled up in front of the house on Crescent Moon Drive, Sam told me to close my lower jaw. It was the biggest house I had ever seen, a contemporary design, on a dark, tree lined street with no other homes visible. The mansion was white, with a stucco and glass exterior. There were lots of windows, and a large circular driveway preceded it. It was built to be intimidating, and I sat frozen in the cab.

  The cab driver was as astounded as I was. “This is some house,” he said. “Wow.” He took the words right out of my mouth. I paid the fare. Sam, as usual, did not have any money.

  “How much bigger than my house do you think this is?” I asked Sam.

  “At least six or seven times your house, and that’s just the first floor.”

  We walked up the long cobble stone driveway. A man asked if we were the valets. Sam replied, “Not us, not tonight.”

  When we arrived at the oversized entry doors, a butler in a black tuxedo immediately asked our names, and a man with a clipboard checked us in. The party was in the back. Sam and I walked through the house to find the back door. The floor was granite, and the ceilings were at least twelve feet high. The front stairs were marble, with dark wrought iron railings. There were several fireplaces. One was made of flat gray stones, stacked one on top of the other, all the way to the ceiling of the second floor. The kitchen was as big as my entire house, complete with cabinets made of shiny white metal. Sam and I stepped out of the kitchen by opening an oversized sliding glass door. We stepped onto a large wraparound limestone patio. The backyard looked as big as the Great Lawn in Central Park, which no longer seemed so great from where I was standing. There were lamp posts in the yard, but it was mostly dark.

  Delancey gave me a big hug. She was dressed like a model from an upscale fashion catalog, wearing a blue dress and a matching scarf around her shoulders. It was made of silk, with a jeweled clip in the middle. She introduced us to her mother, who shook our hands, and thanked us for coming. There were no other young people; everyone else was an adult.

  The deck was lit by torches, and several tables were set up with hot foods. The caterers walked around with serving trays and napkins. On the far left was a kidney shaped swimming pool, complete with a diving board and a swim up bar. The yard was enclosed by large old trees, some as high as fifty to sixty feet. Sam and I ate appetizers, but here on Long Island, the waiters referred to them as hors’doeuvres.

  I felt uncomfortable, and completely out of place. I walked into the backyard, alone, as Sam stayed back and kept kissing up to Delancey’s mother. I now understood that Sam would fit in at the Ivy League. I lacked his social graces. Sam was a smooth talker. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a doctor’s son.

  A waiter offered me a glass of white wine, and I took two glasses and walked deep into the sprawling backyard, into its darkest corner, hoping that no one would see me or follow me. I wanted this evening to be over, as my level of anxiety and social awkwardness increased with every person that said hello to me. I just wanted to be alone, away from their smiles and pleasantries.

  In the corner of the backyard wa
s a small house, with a sign that read “Cabana.” I peered in and saw some adults snorting lines of cocaine off a glass coffee table. They were laughing. Some had drinks in their hands. Brass needed to find his way to the suburbs if he was serious about making money.

  The people in the cabana were friendly, and even offered me some of the white stuff. I declined, explaining that I was cutting back due to the recession. They roared with laughter. I slipped into the darkest portion of the yard, a corner dark as an abyss, behind the pool house, and slowly drank the wine. In this moment of social awkwardness, I knew that it wasn’t the party that was the problem, it was me. I stood under the shadows of a weeping willow tree with long leaves and dipping branches, and became an observer. I was far enough not to be seen. I watched in silence.

  Sam, was talking to Delancey, and telling jokes to Delancey’s mother and her friends. He had them laughing non-stop. Delancey’s mother looked just liked her, tall, with regal features. When Sam told jokes, he couldn’t stop laughing. Sometimes he could barely get the punch line out.

  The ladies laughed, and one reached over and held the Harvard pin on Sam’s lapel. She then moved her fingers slowly up and down his arm and shoulder. Sam looked very comfortable in this situation. On the other hand, I was insecure about my outfit, my hair, my shoes, my looks, and my family’s lack of money. Even my wallet was feeling insecure.

  Sam told the ladies that he had been accepted to Harvard, and that his father was a doctor at New York Hospital. He was a really big hit, more so here than in high school. He was meant for parties outside of school. Delancey was glancing around, looking for someone. She leaned in and asked Sam a question, to which he shrugged and pointed in my general direction.

  Sam was having a great time, talking to everyone he could. One of the pleasant things about acceptance to Harvard is that it happens to be a great conversation starter. Acceptance to a state college was really not much of a conversation piece. I finished my wine and gazed at the stars. It was a clear night, slightly cool, and there were more stars in the wealthy Long Island night sky than there ever was in all of Queens. You get a lot for your taxes out here. I was only about 30 miles away from home, but it felt like I was in another country. The Pinot Grigio was good, sweet, but dry.

  I stared up at the heavens, noticing Orion’s belt, and the Big Dipper, and wondered if I would ever live in a house like this, if it was in my stars. I thought about my family, and how poor we were, and how my mother had worked long hours for such little pay before she passed. My father was good, hard working and honest. I wondered if we had some sort of family curse that prevented us from living a better life. I remembered a quote from last year’s English class. I said it out loud, “the fault lies not in our stars but in ourselves.”

  “Hamlet, right?” said Delancey.

  I was startled by her voice, and didn’t realize she was standing right behind me.

  “That’s right,” I said. “Nice party. Thank you for inviting us.”

  “It’s my pleasure, thank you for coming. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d have no one here to talk to, no one here to quote Hamlet.” Delancey glanced at the party, and seemed lonely to be apart from the crowd.

  “It’s for a good cause….I’m sure we are really helping out someone by being here, even though we can’t contribute much. What exactly is the fundraiser for?” I inquired.

  “It’s a fundraiser to restore Ellis Island and make it into a museum,” Delancey said proudly.

  “Ellis Island has been closed for so long, why not leave it closed or why doesn’t the federal government restore it?”

  “Ellis Island opened in 1892 and has been closed since 1954. Twenty million passed through Ellis Island as immigrants. Millions of people in America, that is if they are of European decent, can trace their roots to an ancestor coming and stopping off at Ellis Island. Imagine, you get on a ship across the world, and you are waiting to get to America at Ellis Island. Diseases, death, poor conditions, medical inspections, all kinds of stuff, and then you were either sent back or allowed to come ashore to New York. It is too important a place to forget and ignore. If we wanted it screwed up completely, then yes, we would let the government handle it.” She laughed, exposing the fire behind her eyes, and a passion for making things right. She really would make an excellent lawyer. “Actually, the president asked for this to be completed with private donations. Lee Iacocca, the chairman of Chrysler, is heading up the fundraising across the country. This is just a party to thank some of the donors. Ellis Island is going to open next year, and a great museum will open to the public.”

  I rolled my eyes and said, “Museums are for the deceased. Do we really need another museum in New York?”

  “It’s too much a part of the world’s history not to make it into a museum.”

  I decided to change the topic. The last thing I wanted was an argument.

  “Who’s house is this?”

  “It’s my mother and stepfather’s. They were married about four years ago. This is where I live on the weekends.”

  “It’s a beautiful house, some property.”

  “Don’t be intimidated by it. It’s just a house, although it’s nice to have ten acres,” she said genuinely.

  Delancey summarized that her stepfather was a Wall Street money manager for mutual funds. She offered to have her stepfather, Bruce, tell me more. Awkward silence filled the air between us. We both glanced down at the grass.

  “I don’t have many friends at Stanton,” she said.

  “I find that hard to believe; you seem so popular.”

  “It’s true, there’s no one that I really hang out with or can feel comfortable with. Except for you. I can’t seem to relate to other teenagers…but for some reason, I feel I can have a real conversation with you.” She looked down, feeling shy, or maybe just being coy.

  “So why are you hanging out by yourself behind the cabana? In the dark?” she asked.

  “You know, I really like it back here. I’m actually a big fan, an aficionado of cabanas. It’s going to be my major in college – I will major in the design of cabanas.” We both giggled at my sarcastic joke.

  “You don’t have to feel uncomfortable or awkward. These are really nice people. I know it’s probably not your scene; it’s not my scene either, but they are harmless.” I couldn’t help but stare at her lips.

  “What gave it away, was it my suit?” I asked.

  “I like your suit; it reminds me of my trip to Greece a few years ago. We had a bartender that had a similar one.” We both laughed again. She drank my wine as I held the glass.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Svetlana? Is she here? Did you bring her? Its funny…but she doesn’t really strike me as your type.”

  “No. I told you she, there is nothing between us. And what exactly is my type?” I asked.

  “You are more cerebral, more bohemian, and I think you would like someone…uh…a little less developed, less busty, more demure…with an American accent.” She was holding back her laughter, her eyes gleaming.

  “How come you know so much about me?” I was astonished at her assessment.

  “I always thought that you were interesting, and I guess I just paid attention. But, now that you are with Svetlana, I guess I really don’t know anything about you.” She glanced down.

  “There’s really nothing going on between Svetlana and me. We were friendly, but nothing serious. Its...well I can’t get into it, but there is really nothing. I never even asked her to the dance, she just kind of invited herself to go with me. Don’t believe Sam. She and I recently became friendly over the incident with Mr. Zoose,” I tried to reassure her.

  “I did hear about that. I thought her Russian accent turned you on, as opposed to my American accent. But I have to admit, I was a little jealous, I may even have thought that I had lost the cold war,” Delancey was grinning.

  “Well you didn’t. And you don’t have an American accent Delancey…you have a Long Island accent
….everything west of us is America…this is different, you’re different…..” The wine was kicking in, and I was feeling much more at ease.

  Delancey hit me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t tease me about my Long Island accent.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. I love your Long Island accent.”

  “You lllovvve my acccentt?” she said, slurring her speech. She didn’t need any more wine. Our eyes met and she held my hand. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. We were alone, behind the cabana, in the dark, and I leaned in, put my other hand on her neck, and kissed her softly. She responded in kind, and we kissed for several minutes. I felt electricity between us, and the warmth of her skin against mine, through our clothing. I moved my hand softly up and down, caressing the curvature of her back. She was awesome to touch.

  She looked at me and smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

  “You’re a great kisser,” I said, “and great to kiss.”

  She said that she really needed someone to be close to. I would have liked to be that someone, but reminded her our time was limited since we were graduating in a few months. She said that it was fine, for as long or as short a time period as we had. “There is life after high school, you know,” she whispered in my ear. “We can be friends for all eternity.”

  “Is that what you want, just to be friends?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to think about the future or about categories of friendship. I just want to spend some time with you here, under the stars.”

  I kissed her again and we embraced. If there was ever a moment in my life that wished I could freeze forever, if there was ever an instance that I hoped could endure until the end of time, this would be that moment. I held her closer, feeling every breath she took. I didn’t want to let go, and we stayed in the embrace for a minute or two.

  “What about Svetlana?” she asked.

  “What about her? Are you jealous?”