That’s good, I thought. An old man flirting was not a pretty sight.

“I mean,” he said, “you’re not only physically beautiful, but a beautiful person as well.You always were. And I…didn’t handle your kind nature very well, did I, and—”

“Ross, no more, please.” I felt the Egg McMuffin I’d had for breakfast begin to rise in my throat. I couldn’t do this. “We’re done with this conversation. I forgive you for any and all transgressions, imagined or real. Now please, just get on with your life. And I need to return to work.”

I stood up, feeling his eyes on me as I walked through the restaurant toward the rest rooms. I needed to escape, not only from him but from the inevitable questioning I would be facing from my co-workers. I splashed water on my face, swallowing hard over and over again to get that McMuffin back where it belonged, and when I emerged from the rest room, I saw that Ross had gone, leaving his tray with its untouched burger and nearly full coffee cup for me to clean up.

1939

I was never able to tell my parents the truth about my breakup with Ross. How could I tell them that Ross’s parents—our next-door neighbors—had forbidden his son to date me because I was the daughter of an Italian immigrant? How that would pain my mother! So I told them that he and I had decided we wanted to date others for a while to be sure we were right for each other. I knew my parents thought that was strange; we had seemed an ideal couple to them. On a couple of occasions, they caught me crying and questioned me, wanting to make sure the breakup was my idea and not just Ross’s. I assured them I had been in agreement with him.

I returned Ross’s ring to him, and when the other kids in our gang expressed surprise, we said that we’d simply realized we weren’t ready for a steady relationship. My girlfriends did not quite believe that excuse, and although I would usually confide just about anything to them, I could not tell them the truth. It made Ross look weak and shallow. Still in love with him, I wanted to protect his exalted image to our group of friends.

It was painful, though, to be with him in a crowd without touching him. I’d watch him talk to the other girls and wonder how each girl’s pedigree compared to mine. I’d watch his hands when he ran them through his hair or when he’d cup them around a cigarette as he lit it, and I’d ache with the yearning to have those hands on my body again.

One night at Jenkinson’s, I was dancing with another boy when Ross tapped him on the shoulder to cut in. Ross put his arm around my waist, his hand pressed tight against my back. The band was playing Glenn Miller’s “Moon Love.” Ross was a good dancer, but it was not the dance I was thinking about. It was the nearness of him, the familiar scent of his cologne that filled me with longing.

“Maria.” He pressed his lips close to my ear. “I can’t stand it any longer. I have to find a way to be with you.”

I closed my eyes and breathed him in. “But how?” I asked. I wanted to hear him say he would stand up to his father, that he would give up Princeton, give up college altogether if that’s what it took to have me. But I knew that was hardly a fair expectation, and I wanted the best for him. Giving up all he’d worked for would not be it.

“I am going to start dating Delores,” he said. “And I want you to start dating Fred.”

“What?” I leaned away from him, startled. “What do you—”

“Shh,” he said, pulling me close again. “Listen. We date them. Casually, of course. And we let our families and everyone know that we’re involved with them. But then, you and I will meet on the sly.”

“How?” I whispered.

“We’ll have to work that part out,” he said. “But first, I need to know if you’re willing. What do you say?”

I felt weak-kneed, I wanted him so much. This was a way I could have him. Maybe we could continue the ruse through his college years until he was free of his parents’ control. Then we could finally come out in the open. Be married. “Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

I took Fred by surprise when I started flirting with him and in no time at all, he’d asked me to the movies. Ross had no problem arranging a date with Delores; she’d had her eye on him for years. Ross made me promise that Fred and I would do no more than kiss, and I extracted the same promise from him with regard to Delores. Thus our cover was complete.

The first night we attempted our ruse, it did not work as planned. I was to go to the movies with Fred, while Ross went dancing with Delores. I hated the thought of him having his arms around Delores, but reassured myself that his dancing with her was only a means to an end.

Fred was to bring me home at ten o’clock, an hour shy of my curfew. I would say good-night to him in front of my house, then slip across the street to the empty lot. Ross would drop Delores off at her house, then park on the street on the other side of the lot and meet me by the blueberry bushes. There, we would have a full hour together before we needed to go home.

I said good-night to Fred in his car and started to get out, but he was too much of a gentleman for that. He raced around the car to open my door for me and then walked with me to the front stoop of the bungalow.

“Your parents would think I was a boor if I didn’t make sure you got in all right,” he said.

I glanced over my shoulder at the lot, wondering if Ross was there yet. If I went into the house, I knew I would not be able to get out again without my parents asking a lot of questions.

“Well,” I said, when we reached my door, “I don’t want to go in right away. I think I’ll just sit on the step for a while and enjoy the evening.”

Stupid me!

“You’re right, it’s beautiful out,” Fred said. He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

I heard the closing of a car door somewhere on the opposite side of the lot and wondered how on earth I was going to get rid of Fred.

“I was so glad when you and Ross broke up,” he said. He turned to kiss me, and I dropped my head so the kiss landed on my forehead. The light was on. Ross could surely see us from the lot and I couldn’t bear to have him see Fred kiss me. I knew how I would feel if I had to watch him kissing Delores.

“Sorry,” Fred said.

“Just…not yet,” I said, feigning a prissiness that was not usually part of my character. Then I slapped my arm as if a mosquito had bitten me. “They’re really biting tonight,” I said. “I think I’d better go in.” I thought I would slip quietly into the house, stand inside the door until I heard Fred drive away, then slip out again.

I said good-night to Fred, then opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Our tiny bathroom was right next to the front door and I froze when I heard the toilet flush. The bathroom door opened and my father walked into the hall.

He looked surprised. “Well, hello, sweetheart,” he said. “I didn’t expect you home this early. Did everything go all right?”

“Fine, Daddy,” I said. “I didn’t want to make a late night of it.”

Foiled, I walked to the back porch to say good-night to my mother before going into my small bedroom. My bedroom’s only window faced the Chapmans’ house. I thought of removing the screen and climbing outside to meet Ross, but what if my parents discovered I was gone and worried about me? I sat on the edge of the bed, the room so small that my knees were up against the windowsill, and watched for Ross’s car to pull into his driveway. I heard a noise outside and yelped when his face suddenly appeared outside my window.

“Shh!” He pressed his finger to his lips and I giggled. “What happened?” he asked.

“Fred wanted to be sure I got inside all right,” I said.

“Figures,” he said. “Can you get out?” He touched the edges of the screen. “Does this pop out?”

“It does, but I can’t, Ross,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Whatever anxiety compelled me to stay inside that night fell away in the nights that followed. I learned how to quickly pop out the screen and slip through the window. I eased my fear of worrying my parents by leaving a note on my pillow. It read: “I didn’t want to wake you. Just felt like going for a walk.” And then I would meet Ross across the street, where we’d pick blueberries in the darkness and make love with their taste on our tongues.

Ross became my summer lover. I went to the New Jersey College for Women, and he followed his father’s footsteps to Princeton. We didn’t communicate during the school year, but I believed we both lived for the summers, when we would date others but take every opportunity we could to be together, away from the prying eyes of his parents. It was a wonder we were never caught. Perhaps it was also a shame.

CHAPTER 23

Lucy

Shannon wasn’t returning my calls. I hadn’t spoken with her since the ZydaChicks concert and I could only conclude that she didn’t want to listen to me lecture her again about telling Julie and Glen that she was pregnant. This afternoon, though, she finally left a message on my cell phone, sounding nonchalant, as though I hadn’t been trying to get in touch with her for the past week.

“How about I bring over some subs and we just veg in front of the TV?” she suggested.

I left a message for her in return. “Excellent,” I said. “See you at seven.” I would take her any way I could get her. She arrived wearing no makeup, and she was fresh faced and pretty, her long hair still damp and a little tangled from a shower. She looked only slightly more pregnant than she had at the concert, and it might even have been my imagination. She could pass as a girl who had simply put on a bit too much weight. In the next few weeks, though, that was sure to change.