At Syracuse, Kathy Stein told her roommate, Jane Krasner, that she’d met someone over the holidays. “And I think…well, I really liked him.”
They were on their beds with the pink and red plaid spreads they’d bought during orientation week on sale at Dey Brothers. They’d become friends right away, decorating their tiny dorm room, figuring out how to share the only closet and the personal items they’d brought from home—Kathy’s clock radio, Jane’s foldable clothes dryer. Every night Jane diligently hand-washed her heavy wool socks in Woolite along with her bra and underpants and hung them on her wooden clothes dryer. Kathy collected her laundry for a week before using the washing machine in the basement of their dorm. Now, with finals coming up, they were studying, Kathy wrapped in the hand-knitted afghan her mother had made for her, Jane in her flannel robe.
“That was fast,” Jane said. “Where does he go to school?”
“Okay, promise not to laugh?”
“Promise.”
“He’s a senior in high school but he’s coming to Syracuse next year, assuming he gets in.”
Jane just looked at her.
“He’s mature for his age. Actually, we’re just a few months apart because he has a winter birthday and mine is November. So I want to get home for break after finals to see him again.”
“You better make your reservations now.”
“Come with me. I’ll introduce you to my cousin Phil. He’s Steve’s best friend. We’ll have fun.”
“Where am I supposed to get the money to fly?”
“I’ll bet my dad would spring for your ticket,” Kathy said. Her father was an orthopedic surgeon.
“Don’t do that. Don’t ask your dad to pay for me. I can take the bus.”
“But that would take all day, and another day getting back.”
“That’s why I might not come.”
“That’d be a disappointment.”
“You’re going to see a boy. You don’t need me around.”
“But it’s more fun when you’re around.”
“Thanks.”
“Wish me luck,” Kathy said. “I’m going to call home now.”
“Good luck.”
Kathy went out to the pay phone in the hall to dial her parents.
Elizabeth Daily Post
PELHAM GIRL HAS BEST POSTURE
Cites Muscular Control
JAN. 10—The annual Posture Queen award at Barnard College was given yesterday to Miss Marjory Schulhoff of Pelham, N.Y. Freshmen were judged on the basis of carriage, poise and ease of movement, both walking and sitting. Miss Schulhoff, a prospective art major, was also queen of the Columbia College rush last fall.
She attributed her success to sleep, good food and muscular control. “Exercise alone won’t do it,” she said. “I know plenty of football players who walk like apes.”
“You know,” the newly crowned Posture Queen added, “I’d feel better if it was an academic award.”
10
Miri
Usually, January was the longest month, dragging on and on, the weather cold and dreary, school routine and boring, everybody’s noses runny, their throats sore. But this January everything was different. Mason called Miri every night, sometime between nine and ten o’clock, whenever he got a break at the bowling alley. If she’d finished her homework she might be watching TV at Irene’s with Rusty and Ben Sapphire, who sometimes slept over on Irene’s couch. Miri would leave the door between her house and Irene’s open so she could hear the phone. When it rang she’d run up the stairs, pick up the phone and drag it by its long knotted cord under the bathroom door, locking it behind her. Then she’d sit on the edge of the tub in the dark, smelling Rusty’s bath salts—lavender, citrus, musk—listening to Mason’s breaths and her own, until she could feel him breathing into her ear right through the phone.
After they’d said goodnight, she’d turn on the bathroom light and look at herself in the mirror on the medicine chest. Her face was always pink and warm. She’d splash it with water to take away the blush. Then she’d flush the toilet for no reason except to announce she’d finished in case anyone was interested, return the phone to the hall table and run down the stairs to catch the rest of whatever TV show they’d been watching. Irene wouldn’t say anything. Neither would Rusty. But Miri was sure they’d had plenty to say while she was gone, unless it was Wednesday and they’d been watching Kraft Television Theatre. Then they wouldn’t have talked at all except during commercials.
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