Last Night at the Telegraph Club

Finally Kathleen said, with a faint look of disappointment, “I have to go home. I’m supposed to babysit.” She started to head toward the door.


“Wait,” Lily said. The moment was about to slip from her grasp, and she couldn’t let that happen. She finally latched her book bag closed. She slung the bag over her shoulder, and it came to rest against her hip like a nudge. “I’ll walk with you. I mean, can I walk out with you?”

Kathleen turned back with a surprised smile. “Sure.”



* * *





Kathleen lived in North Beach near Washington Square. She was half Italian and Catholic on her mother’s side; she had three siblings—one older, two younger; and most days after school she had to babysit her younger sister and brother, although her sister was twelve and could’ve managed on her own. She spoke about her siblings with a mixture of exasperation and love that Lily found quite endearing. As they walked down Columbus together, talking about their families and math class, Lily wondered why she hadn’t gotten to know Kathleen before. They had been in the same classes together for years, but it was as if they had been figurines in an automated diorama, moving on mechanical tracks that approached each other but never intersected until now. Today they had broken free from those prescribed grooves, and Lily was acutely aware of the unprecedented nature of their new friendliness.

At the corner of Columbus and Filbert, where Washington Square Park occupied a flat green expanse of North Beach, Kathleen said, “I have to turn here.”

They stopped at the intersection, and Lily wondered if this was the moment she would ask the unspoken question still caught in her throat—but no, Kathleen was moving on, and Lily said hastily, “Thanks, Kathleen. Thanks for helping me out with Will.”

“You’re welcome.” Kathleen paused, then asked, “Do you mind—will you call me Kath? My friends call me Kath, not Kathleen.”

She seemed a little abashed; a shyness flickered across her face, which turned the palest shade of pink. Her cheeks, Lily noticed, were now the same color as her lips: that delicate shade of blush, like a peony.

“Of course,” Lily said. “I’ll see you at school, Kath.”

When they parted, Kath walked east toward the Gothic towers of Saints Peter and Paul Church, and Lily headed south toward Chinatown. The word friends echoed in Lily’s memory like the chime of water dripping into the bathroom sink.





8





What did you do?” Shirley demanded in a whisper. She had cornered Lily at her locker in the ten minutes between the end of school and the start of student council. “Will is acting so uptight about the dance. Did he ask you to go with him?”

Ever since that afternoon by the trophy case, Will had avoided being alone with Lily, and when they were with their other friends, he carefully did not meet her eyes. She had been happy to accept this delicate distancing because it absolved her of having to give him an answer. She was disappointed that Shirley had noticed.

“I didn’t do anything,” Lily said a bit sharply. “But, yes, he asked me.”

“What did you say? You didn’t say no, did you?” Shirley sounded aghast.

Lily sighed. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.”

Shirley’s eyebrows rose. “Yes! You should have said yes.”

“But I don’t—why can’t we all go together in a group, like always? He said there was going to be a group dinner at Cameron House before the dance. Are you going?”

“No, I have to be at school early to set up. You should go with him.”

Beyond Shirley down the hall, Lily saw Kath hovering by the main doors. They had taken to walking home together, but during school hours they also made sure to act like they barely knew each other. They hadn’t discussed this strategy, but had fallen into it so naturally that only now, with Shirley pressing her about Will, did Lily notice how strange it was.

“Don’t you like him?” Shirley asked, bewildered. “You two make the perfect couple. I know you can be shy about these things. Do you want me to talk to him?”

Lily couldn’t tell if Shirley was being kind or condescending. It was probably a little of both. “No, don’t talk to him,” Lily said. She saw Kath take a seat on a bench near the main office, waiting for her.

“Well, you’d better talk to him, then,” Shirley said. “It’s not right to make him wait for an answer like that.” She glanced at her watch and said, “I have to go now. Talk to him, Lily.” She hurried off down the hallway toward the student council room.

Lily finished packing her book bag and went to meet Kath, who stood up as she approached.

“What’s going on?” Kath asked as they exited the building together. “You don’t look happy.”

“It’s nothing.” Lily didn’t want to talk about Will; she didn’t even want to think about him. It made her antsy, as if she didn’t quite fit in her skin. “Do you have to babysit today?” she asked Kath.

“Not right away. My brother and sister are at our nonna’s today. I’m supposed to go get them in a couple of hours, though.”

“Let’s do something,” Lily said impulsively. The sky was bright blue above and the scent of the ocean nearby made her restless. She had to distract herself from that conversation with Shirley.

“What do you want to do?” Kath asked, sounding amused. “Don’t you have to go pick up Frankie today?”

Lily had nearly forgotten her own plans. She groaned and looked at her watch. “Yes, but not for a little while—not if we hurry. Let’s get ice cream.”

“Where?”

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