She paused again. “Fine.”
“That’s it?” Her capacity to end such a heated discussion so quickly and maturely was startling.
“Yeah. Fine. Okay. But I don’t know if Lynn will want to be my friend if we start dating.” She was really worried about her stupid friendship with Lynn.
“Listen, Lynn wasn’t exactly your best friend. If you only knew what she said about you...”
“What did she say?” Maria demanded.
“It’s not so much what she said, really. But I think she wanted to fool around with me to get me to keep going out with her, and avoid dating you.” Was this true? Probably. Partially. But I had no right to say it. I had Maria so confused. I just wanted her to forget about Lynn. I didn’t want her to even see Lynn again. I wanted that part of her life, and mine, to be over with.
“Don’t worry, all that matters is that now we can go out whenever we want to! I really like you, Maria. Please don’t ruin this for us. Just forget about it.”
“Please don’t ruin this for us?” She was so angry and perplexed she sort of stressed every word in that sentence. There was a long pause. But then she gathered her thoughts and calmed down. “All right,” she said. “All right.”
I didn’t let a second go by before I asked her out. I can’t explain how badly I wanted to see her again. It’d been so long since I’d last inhaled her luscious aroma and touched her tiny hand. We’d had only one date in Central Park, that’s it. There was so much more to do.
I thought about how beautiful she was that day in the park, and how she clasped her hand to mine so tightly. I wanted to hold her hand again. I wanted to hold it and never let go. I told her so on the phone. I divulged all of the high hopes I had for us. And I told her that I had a surprise for her when we went out the next time. And I did. I wanted to carve our names into the tree near the pond where we’d sat for hours talking.
“What’s the surprise?” she said.
“Say you’ll go out with me this Saturday, and then you’ll find out. Please.”
“I want to see you again, too, A.J. But, I don’t know, something just doesn’t seem right.”
“What do you mean? You’re just worried about Lynn!” I was exasperated. But don’t worry—that’s all in the past now. We can do more than talk on the phone now. We can see each other as often as we want.”
She seemed a little confused, but I knew I’d gotten through to her.
“You’re right, A.J.” She paused again. She was always pausing. “Where do you want to go this weekend?”
“Same place as last date. Same time.”
I felt her smile over the phone. “Okay—the mall at eleven, right?”
“Let’s make it twelve. I should be done with my test by then.” God, was I thrilled that she wanted to see me again.
“Oh, that’s right. You’ve got your SATs on Saturday! Good luck, A.J.!” Her upbeat voice would propel me through the SATs successfully, and right into the Air Force Academy. I just knew it.
“Thank you,” I said. “I know I’ll do well now that I’m with you.”
“And I know it, too. Good night, hopeful.”
“Goodnight, hopeful?”
“Yes, because that’s what you are—you’re hopeful—to me. You’re the only person who gives me any hope. Just don’t disappoint me, okay?”
I wanted to say I love you. I wanted to ask her to marry me right then and there. I wanted to go over to her house and see her, only I couldn’t drive yet. So I just said: “Thank you, Maria. Thank you so much for saying that. Goodnight.”
Chapter 7
Two Firsts
Looking back on my second date with Maria and describing it without bias is an arduous task. The sum of my time spent with Maria is uniformly positive or negative, depending on my mood. Nevertheless, in my heart, I am confident that the second time Maria and I went to Central Park was flawless, no matter what mood I’m in when I recount it.
It was a beautiful day in May. It was the kind of weather where you can keep your window wide open perpetually, warmed by the sun by day and cooled by the breeze at night. Between the SAT in the morning and my date with Maria in the afternoon, that day could have been a powerful journey from childhood to manhood. Could have been.
I took the test that morning and met Maria precisely at noon in front of the Queens Center Mall. She asked if we could go shopping in the mall for a while first, but I politely refused. I wanted to be with her in the park as soon as possible, and I told her so. She complied, gracefully.
The subway ride to the city was quiet; I think we were both excited that it was our first real date. This’ll sound corny, but that day my big plan was to I ask her to be my girlfriend. This was a big moment. It meant we didn’t have to worry about anyone else. Aching to surprise her and give her a day to remember forever, we ascended the subway stairs and were bathed in sunlight.
As usual, we entered the park through Central Park South. The sun was shining brightly on Maria’s dark hair, creating a sparkle in her beautiful nutmeg eyes. Inhaling the scents of the newly budding flowers and Maria’s perfume, I flew high as an F-15 and soared through the stratosphere. The F-15 can fly one hundred thousand feet up in just under four minutes. I think I was flying higher than that in Central Park, and I wanted to take Maria with me. I could have sworn I saw one of those awesome F-15s in the azure sky above. I was gripping it’s tail, feeling a cool breeze of perfume lifting my body.
We walked down the stone staircase on the corner of Central Park South and Fifth Avenue, toward the pond where little children were tossing bits of bread to the ducks and geese. I wanted to feed those ducks, too, but didn’t have any bread. But I had Maria. She was holding my right hand with her left. You know that feeling you get when you first step into a frosty-cold day from within your warm home? Like when suddenly goose bumps chill your entire body? Well that’s what I felt like with Maria. And, on top of that, a million butterflies were flitting through my stomach. It was a crazy, mixed up feeling that can only be described as love.
As we walked along, as the sun beamed its warmth down on my face, I noticed my shadow strewn across the pond’s edge, moving right along with us. But I didn’t see a separate shadow for Maria. I saw only one shadow, our shadow, as whole and united as we were that day.
I remember what she was wearing—dark blue denim shorts that covered just enough to leave the eye wanting; a red, cotton, v-neck T-shirt, tight yet modest; and a pair of ivory white gym shoes. She looked like a tennis player in the U.S. Open—young, energetic, fit, ambitious. Maria had just a dab of makeup on her face—just enough to make her naturally spectacular face glow. But the absolute best part was her smile. No make up could simulate a smile. She looked as though it was the happiest day of her life, as though she was up 40-Love, about to win game, set, and match. It was almost as if she was bursting to tell a joyful secret, waiting for a window of opportunity.
Not until we sat down together on a park bench by the ball field did we begin to converse. Baseball season was in full swing. In the background we heard the crack of aluminum bats and the sound of cheerful crowds. Neither of us was tempted to watch the game, though. We opted to gaze into one another’s eyes, almost as if we were studying one another.
“So tell me your story, kid,” I said. It was an unusual way to begin a conversation, I know. But I was so goddamn excited.
“My story? Well, I don’t know,” she said coyly. “I adore Central Park. I really love it here. I used to come to Central Park with my grandfather when I was a little girl. I think I told you that last time we were here. I suppose that’s why this place—the trees, the pond, the ducks—is so comforting.”
“Well, we’ll come here as often as you want from now on, I promise.”
Maria suddenly seemed to be lost in deep thought. Patiently, I waited for her to turn toward me once again.
Several minutes later, a glossy-eyed Maria continued. “You’ll meet my grandpa someday, A.J. I see him about
once each week. He almost died three summers ago of a heart attack. Then he had a stroke several weeks afterward. Obviously, he hasn’t been the same since.
“Tell me more,” I said. “I love listening to you.”
“Grandpa used to be so proud of his daily routine: wake at seven; go to eight o’clock mass; walk two miles to the seniors club; eat lunch at Claudio’s; walk two miles to the donut shop; read the Post over a cup of coffee; walk back to the club; grab dinner at Michael’s Diner; walk back home; watch TV; go to bed at ten. Same thing, A.J., every day. But he loved every minute of it. Amazing, huh?
“But since his surgeries, grandpa’s daily routine has changed a lot. He used to walk six miles a day and then watch two or three hours of TV each evening, and now he walks very little and watches TV all day long. Non-stop.
“A nurse comes in every afternoon to cook and help him bathe. He takes a different pill for every color of the rainbow. Basically, he has nothing to live for...”
Maria swallowed hard and peered searchingly into my eyes.
“...except for my visits. My mother, my father—they’re too busy to see him more than once a month or so. But I visit grandpa at least once a week after school. That’s when he turns off the TV—it’s usually hot as an oven, it’s been on for so long—and talks to me. For two or three hours each week, grandpa tells me the stories of his life—he’s a very reflective old guy—and answers all of my questions about the past. ‘What was it like to see Joe DiMaggio play in Yankee Stadium’; ‘Was Roosevelt a good president?’; ‘What did people do before TV was around?’ Just one of those questions gets him talking for hours.”
Maria smiled proudly. “A.J., you have to see it. To grandpa, these conversations are like, um—what’s that thing at the hospital that keeps you alive?”
“Life support systems,” I said.
“Yeah! That’s right. I think I’m sort of like his life support system. Sometimes I think he could go without the pills, just as long as he gets rejuvenated once a week when we talk.”
“So you’re saying that without you he’d die?”
“Well, I guess so, in a way,” she said. “I think that all people kind of need a life support system. But not a machine, A.J. I mean a real-life human being. People to engage them, question them, listen to them. Nurses and pills can help you to a point. But all people—young and old, sick and well—crave a person to depend on just as they can count on the sun rising each morning.”
I was touched. I didn’t know her grandfather. However, at that moment, for the first and perhaps the only time in my relationship with Maria, I grasped precisely what she craved: a confidant. Maria lacked the life support system that she provided so gracefully for her own blood. Though during the moment I didn’t know if Maria would ever surrender herself to me physically, on that exquisite day in the park she handed me her soul in the palm of her hand, and I gratefully accepted.
The world surrounding us stopped for a moment, silently acknowledging the holy transaction that was taking place. A jet flew into my mind, an EA6B electronic jamming plane, used by the Navy and Marines to stifle enemy aircraft’s radar technology. A hush blanketed us, the world around didn’t exist. The earth’s rotation came to a halt. Maria gazed sleepily into my eyes as if she were about to fall into my waiting arms. A gentle breeze whistled through the trees surrounding us. Abruptly, a loud burst of cheer resonated from the ball field, waking us from the hypnosis.
“You can always count on me,” I responded, finally. “I promise.”
“Always? You mean it? Do you think we’ll be together forever, A.J.?” Smiling softly, Maria stroked my fingers, searching for an answer that I had planned on providing well before she raised her question. Although I’d wanted to broach the issue of our future together, Maria slyly beat me to it.
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Maria.” Then I placed the palm of my hand against her right cheek, and looked harder at her than I ever had before. I was so happy I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. Instead, I continued with my plan.
“Maria,” I said, “I want to be with you forever. I know that sounds crazy—I mean, hell, we’re both still teenagers, right?—but it’s true. Let’s begin forever today. Let’s take the first step now.” I breathed in deeply, paused for a second, and exhaled. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”
Even though she knew I’d ask that, she was surprised. So was I. My heart throbbed but before I had a chance to notice it, Maria replied.
“Yes,” she said, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” And she smiled and gave me a hug.
Heaven on Earth. That’s all I can say.
We talked more for a while, probably for an hour or so. As usual, we talked about everything from politics to movies, from travel to religion. Neither of us was very religious. I was happy to hear that she, like me, was an atheist. It’s that like we hated the idea of God, we just despised the notion that some people justified moral superiority with their faith. That’s why neither of us went to Church. I had gone once in the past year or so, but that was for Christmas and with my parents. She said she hadn’t gone in years, and I thought that was cool.
“Tell me about your family. Do they know that you like me?” I asked.
“Well, I tell my mother everything,” she said, “but I don’t think my father knows about you yet.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know. I just don’t think he knows about you yet,” she said.
“Why? Will he be mad or something?”
“Oh no, it’s not that.”
“Well, what do you mean?”
“He just doesn’t know,” she insisted.
“Why not? What’s the big deal?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” she replied. Suddenly, she grew visibly uneasy. How, I wondered, can I be her confidant if she bottles her secrets up?
“Listen, Maria, I care about you and would never judge you. So whatever it is, please tell me.”
“I don’t know. Something tells me it’s not a good idea.”
“Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I think it’s best to get things out in the open.” I placed both my hands on her face, parting the hair away from her eyes. She looked up at me and let out a warm, minty breath.
“I don’t think my father knows abut you yet, A.J., because he’s always drunk when I talk about you at home.”
Dead silence. I had no idea what to say. “My father’s an alcoholic, A.J.”
And with that her little eyes began to tear. She wasn’t crying so much as she was whimpering. Quickly, however, she wiped away her tears and stopped, as if she had never begun. She was such a proud girl.
I can’t describe how surprised I was to hear about her father. An alcoholic! My God! I wasn’t surprised, but appalled. I’d never tasted alcohol before. I’d despised alcohol from the moment I realized what you were, Mom.
One time in freshman year I was at a school dance, and Kyle snuck in a few of those little bottles of vodka, the same kind that you get on commercial airliners and hotel room bars. He said he stole them from his grandmother’s liquor cabinet. I was pissed. My opinion of liquor was patently different than my friends’. All hallucinogens were evil. Liquor was no different than religion—they both made you believe something that wasn’t true. Kyle was swigging vodka while I still had stuffed animals in my room.
What a fight we had! He wanted to drink the vodka right in the middle of the dance. “Over my dead body,” I exclaimed, as I grabbed the bottle from him and flung it to the gym floor. Unfortunately, it was plastic, so it just bounced around for a while, and remained intact. Kyle reacted with a goofy smile—he had won—and he picked the bottle off the floor, unscrewed the little red cap, and drank away.
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