by Dean Hughes
“I know that’s how I seem.” Wally leaned forward, took hold of the steering wheel, and put his chin on his hands. “But I do think about serious things.”
Lorraine laughed. “Like what?”
Wally waited, and then, sounding solemn, said, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking lately. We’re going to graduate in a couple of months—and then what? It’s very possible that the boys in our class will end up fighting—maybe dying—in Europe.”
“My dad says we’ll never get involved over there.”
Wally allowed some time again, and then he said, “I hope he’s right. But I think war is coming, and when it does, I don’t see how America can stay out of it.”
“And you’re really worried about that?”
“Well . . . it makes a guy stop to think about his life and what he wants to do with it.” He leaned back and shut his eyes.
“So what do you want out of life, Wally?”
Wally thought he heard the sarcasm again, but he pushed ahead anyway. “I used to think about making money, but that’s not so important to me now. What I picture is a nice house, great kids, and above all, a perfect wife. That’s what counts.”
“So what’s perfect? Rita Hayworth?”
“I want her to be pretty, if that’s what you mean. But I want someone who’s not just pretty on the outside. I know it sounds trite, Lorraine, but I want someone just like my mother.”
Lorraine didn’t react for a time. “Your mother is a wonderful woman, Wally,” she finally said, and her voice had become as solemn as Wally’s. Or maybe too solemn. Was she making fun of him?
“I think a lot about being married,” Wally said. “I see myself sitting by a fire on a winter night, reading a good book, and then I imagine myself looking over at my wife and suddenly going absolutely weak all over—just because I love her so much.”
“That’s so nice, Wally. I’m glad you can talk to me this way.”
Wally heard the words he wanted to hear, but the tone was wrong. He folded his arms and looked down. “I know you have no reason to believe any of this, Lorraine. I don’t reveal my true self very often. No one really knows me.”
“Oh, I think the girls at East High do.”
Wally could see little more than the silhouette of Lorraine’s face and hair, but he could see a spark of reflection from her eyes, like fire. “What?”
“Gwen Larsen and I are very good friends, Wally. We talk about everything. Think about that.”
Wally realized he was in trouble. “Look, Lorraine, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“That you can talk to me better than any girl you know?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Wally tried to think what to do.
“Wally, you drove Gwen up here—probably to this same spot—and you told her all the same baloney. Then you kissed her—her first kiss—and she floated on air for a week. But that was three weeks ago, and since then, you haven’t even called her.”
“That’s not exactly . . .” Wally had started a sentence with the hope of discovering an end to it along the way, but nothing came to him.
“I can’t believe you, Wally. You really hurt her.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’ll ask her out again sometime.”
“No you won’t. It’s just a game you play. You take a girl out until she starts to like you, but once you kiss her, you’ve won, and you look for another challenge.”
Wally was surprised. Maybe that was the game he played, but girls had their own games. “Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t make such a big thing of it. Gwen wanted me to kiss her.”
Lorraine’s head snapped around. “You’re such a drip, Wally. Take me home—right now.”
“Hey, talk about playing games. You were just waiting for me to say something that I also happened to say to Gwen—so you could jump all over me.”
“That’s exactly right. And I got you, didn’t I?”
Wally couldn’t think what to say for a moment, but he realized he was smiling. “Well . . . yeah.”
Lorraine laughed and then leaned back against the door. “You’re a sad case, Wally. I really don’t like you at all.” But her voice had lost its venom.
Wally was surprisingly relieved. It was good to have the game finished, even if he had lost. “Lorraine, I didn’t mean to hurt Gwen. I didn’t think about it that way.”
“Don’t you care about people? Something like that—a first kiss—means a lot to a girl. Didn’t you stop to think how she would feel if you never asked her out again?”
Wally thought for a few seconds, and then he told the truth. “Not really.”
“Wally, that is so pathetic.”
“Maybe so,” Wally said, and he found himself wondering about himself. “Honestly, I think there’s something wrong with me. Everyone seems to know how I ought to feel about things, but most of the time, I don’t feel anything at all.”
It was a strange moment. Wally had never said anything like that before, but the words, as though they had come from someone else, struck him as right, and they seemed to reformulate his entire view of himself. There was something missing in him, he realized, and he didn’t know what it was.
“A lot of boys are like that,” Lorraine said, softly. “Maybe girls, too. I don’t know.”
“So what do I do about it?”
“Grow up, I guess.”
A frightening sadness had come over Wally, but he wanted to keep talking. “Let’s go out and sit on the grass,” he said.
“Wally, why?”
“I don’t know. It’s nice out tonight. And I like to talk with you.”
“I wouldn’t use that line if I were you.”
“No. I didn’t mean it that way.” Wally opened his door and stepped out, and to his surprise, before he could walk around the car, Lorraine got out too. So he stopped in front of the car and sat on the grass. Lorraine didn’t come near him, however. She chose a big boulder several feet away, and she sat on that.
Wally could see her better now with moonlight falling across her face. Her skin was radiant in the delicate light, and she was wearing a simple dress—flowered and knee-length. He could see her slenderness, the subtle curves of her body. What he couldn’t guess was what she was thinking. He knew that most girls found him good looking, and he had always cared about that. He wore argyle sweaters and expensive slacks to school, and he took time with his hair. But Lorraine had never paid much attention to him, and now, after the things he had done and said, this would certainly be his only date with her.
“What are you going to do after you graduate?” he asked her.
“I’m going to work this summer and then go to the U in the fall. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I want to get away from Salt Lake.”
“Really? Where do you want to go?”
“I’ve thought about joining the service.”
“I thought you were afraid of going off to war.”
She was teasing him now, and Wally was embarrassed. He let the question go by and merely said, “I want to see some other places.” He lay back on the grass and looked at the sky. Away from the smoke of the city, the Milky Way was thick as a smudge of chalk across a blackboard. “What do you want to do with your life, Lorraine?”
“I don’t know. Get married, have kids, wash on Mondays, iron on Tuesdays—all the regular things. But I want to do something else before I commit my whole life to that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t really want to go to college. I’d like to get a job and earn some money of my own. And then I’d just . . . I don’t know . . . maybe take some trips.”
Wally laughed. “So why don’t you do it?”
“My parents say college is the best place to meet a good husband. And I guess that’s right.”
“If you ask me, the U is an extension of East High. All the same crowd will be up there. I want a change in my life.�
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“What does your dad say about that?”
“I’m not going to let my dad make my decisions for me anymore.” Wally felt some dampness on his back, even through his sweater. He sat up. “My dad will never be satisfied with anything I do, Lorraine. So why try to please him?”
“Wally, come on. I know your father. He came to visit my mother when she was sick last year, and he give her a blessing. He was so tender with her, and he told my dad, ‘Don’t worry. She’s going to get better.’ You should have heard his voice. I didn’t doubt for a minute after that. There’s just no way you’re going to convince me that he goes home at night and turns into some sort of bad guy.”
Wally didn’t say anything. He knew the tender side of his father, knew the confidence the man had in the promptings he received. And Wally understood entirely why people in the stake loved him so much. But he also knew what it was like to live within the compass of his authority.
“You love your father, don’t you?” Lorraine asked. It was a simple question, seemingly offered as a reminder more than a query, but Wally was surprised by the confusion it set off. “I guess I do,” was all he could think to say, but he knew the real answer was too complicated for him to explain.
“Look, Wally, I do need to go home now.” She stood up.
Wally hesitated. He knew she was disappointed with his answer, but he couldn’t think what to say. He finally got up too. “Will you go out with me again?” he asked. He stepped a little closer to her.
“No, Wally. I told you. I don’t like you.”
“That’s all right. I don’t like me either.” He tried to laugh, but they both knew he was telling the truth, and it was an oddly personal, even poignant moment.
“Don’t say that,” she said, and she reached out and touched his arm. “Wally, you’ll be okay. You’re just trying to figure yourself out. Most guys our age are doing that.”
“But I’m not finding any answers.”
“Are you really that unhappy?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what I am. I just feel . . . lost.”
“Oh, Wally.” She reached her hand behind his head, rested it on the back of his neck, and then touched her cheek to his cheek for a moment. “You’ll be okay,” she said.
Wally felt a kind of weakness come over him. “Will you go out with me?” he asked.
“Wally, I didn’t mean it that way. I just feel bad for you.”
“I know. But will you?”
“No. I’ll be your friend. That’s all.”
“How about next Friday? Would you be my friend that night?”
She was silent for a long time. And then she said, “Okay. But not on a date. We could talk some more, if you want.”
The two got back into the car, and Wally drove her home. He said very little along the way. He was still lost inside himself and sort of numb from that one little touch.
At the door she was careful to keep her distance. She only said “Thanks” and went inside. Wally walked to the car and got in, but he didn’t want to go home. Suddenly he wanted to talk to Mel. He looked at his watch. Eleven-ten. He didn’t have to get the car home until midnight. And so he backed out of the driveway, drove half a block to Thirteenth East, and turned north. Mel lived a couple of blocks up the street, close to East High.
When Wally pulled up in front of Mel’s, he could see that most of the lights were out, and he didn’t want to get anybody out of bed, so he walked around to the back, where he found that Mel’s bedroom light was on. He tapped on the window.
In a few seconds, Mel appeared, and the window slid open. “Oh, no,” Mel said. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something to brag about.”
Wally grabbed the window sill, pulled himself up, and then swung a leg inside. He was trying to think of something funny to say. He didn’t want Mel to know what had happened.
“Be quiet,” Mel said. “Tim’s asleep.”
Wally heard the big band music on the radio. He thought of teasing Mel about being home on a Saturday night, but the words wouldn’t come. “Gene Krupa’s band comes on at eleven-thirty,” he said, just to say something, but his voice sounded flat.
“There’s no way you kissed Lorraine Gardner,” Mel was saying at the same time. “Don’t even try to make me believe that.”
Mel was an ungainly kid with a skinny neck. He had a tendency to get pimples, especially near his ears, and his reddish skin made them shine like beacons. He was rather broken out now, in fact, and in his pajamas, he looked terribly young for his age.
Wally turned Mel’s desk chair around and sat down. “I want to talk to you about something,” he said.
“Hey, what happened? Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Did you try?” Mel sat down on his bed, facing Wally.
“No. She saw right through me. I didn’t get anywhere.”
“What? The champ gets KO’d? Joe Louis, down for the count?”
Wally laughed a little, but stiffly. “Yup. I guess so.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Tim stirred in his bed and then sat up. He looked around, bleary-eyed. “It’s okay,” Mel said. “Go back to sleep.” Mel laughed and then turned back to Wally.
But Wally didn’t want any more probing. “Mel,” he said, “right after graduation, let’s do what we talked about. Let’s join the navy.”
“I don’t know if I want to, Wally. My dad and I talked about it, and he—”
“Don’t give me that, Mel. We both know what our fathers will say. But who cares? We’ll never have another chance to do something like this. We can see the world—sail the seven seas.” He spread his arms wide and managed to smile. “Just think how much fun we could have.”
Mel leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know if I’d like that kind of life,” he said.
Wally stood up, furious but not wanting to show it. “Okay. Fine. Never mind.” He walked back to the window. “I’ll send you postcards so you can see what you’re missing.”
“Hey, come on, Wally. I’ll give it some thought. But it’s not something you just jump into.”
“Mel, that’s exactly what it is. For once in my life I want to take a leap and see where I land. I’m tired of everything around here.”
“What happened tonight?”
“I told you—nothing.” But then he added, impulsively, “She felt sorry for me, Mel. That’s what she told me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a mess. You know that. I’m a complete mess, and she felt bad for me.”
“Come on, Wally. You’re not a mess. You’re fine.”
“That’s not what the guys on the track team are saying.”
Mel looked down at his bedspread, ran his fingers across the bumpy brown chenille. “They’re just mad right now. They’ll forget about it.”
“No they won’t. They’ll be up at the university this fall, still hating me. And my dad will still be wondering how he managed to raise a quitter.”
Mel didn’t look up, didn’t say anything.
“I just want to go where no one knows me—and start over.”
“Wally, you can’t decide anything tonight. You’re upset. Lorraine must have gotten to you.”
“Maybe so. But let’s think about this—seriously.”
“Okay. We’ll talk about it.”
Wally sat down on the window sill and was about to swing his legs outside.
“Don’t feel bad about getting shot down by Lorraine,” Mel said. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”
“I know that. I’m fine.”
“Hey, I’m the sad case around here. I’ve only kissed one girl all year, and that was Alice. It took me about twenty tries before she let me give her a little kiss on the porch.”
“That’s your mistake, Mel. Never kiss them on the porch. Kiss them on the lips.” Mel laughed a little too hard, but Wally welcomed the new mood. Th
at was what worked for him; he was always better off to be funny, not to think so much. “I’ve tried the veranda a couple of times,” he said, “but all in all, the lips are still the best.”
“Wally, do you like her or something? Is that what’s bothering you?”
“Lorraine?”
Mel nodded.
“She’s all right.” Wally swung his legs outside, and he dropped to the ground. “I’ll see you,” he said.
“You’re okay, aren’t you, Wally?”
“Sure.”
Wally walked to the car and got in, even turned the ignition on. But he didn’t push the starter button. He sat and stared straight ahead. He tried to put a name on what he was feeling, but nothing occurred to him. He longed to catch a highway and head somewhere—California, maybe. Or all the way to the East Coast. Instead, he started the car and drove slowly home. And he told himself along the way that he was going to join the navy, no matter what Mel decided.
Chapter 13
“Elder Smith, do you have just a minute?”
Apostle Joseph Fielding Smith looked up from the papers on his desk. “President Thomas. Of course. Come in.”
The apostle and the president had known each other for more than twenty years, and they had met on stake matters many times. In recent years they had also seen each other at East High events. Some of their children, about the same age, were good friends. All the same, they addressed each other with their titles, and President Thomas stood with his hat in his hand until Elder Smith stood up, shook his hand, and then invited him to sit down.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” President Thomas said. “Your secretary said you wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s right. She thinks I have nothing to do around here.” Elder Smith sounded terse, but he smiled, and President Thomas knew he was teasing.
“I was wondering what you think might happen with our missionaries in Germany.”
“Reuben Clark is the one you ought to ask. He knows people in the State Department, so he keeps up on things. Anything I know, I hear from him.”
President Thomas nodded. “I guess that’s right, but I read in the paper that you’re on your way to Europe in a few days, and I thought you might have looked into things a little.”