“Not so fast, young lady. You are going to stay here and mingle.”
Val sighed, still managing to look poetic. I had to hand it to her. Then Clover introduced Val to Mama Lucia, which I know Val must have dreaded, because now that she’s seventeen, there’s just no way around it: she prefers the company of men to that of almost any woman.
“I don’t want to miss Aunt Theo,” I said to Clover.
“You won’t. The bodega is just around the corner. But hurry, Franny. Hurry.”
Once we got to the bodega, Alexander offered to pay for the bag of ice. It was a small gesture, but still, I thought it was very gentlemanly of him and I was very impressed by his behavior. It was kind of like his bothering to wear a jacket to the party tonight in that it showed that he paid attention to the little things.
“When do you go back to Boston again?” I asked him. Everything on the city sidewalks at that moment was bright and vivid to me. A cocker spaniel on a red leash; a girl hailing a taxi in a blue polka-dot dress. Even a cone of pistachio ice cream that was melted at my feet. I had to move aside to make sure I didn’t step in it, but I didn’t mind. Even the messiness of New York—New York in the summer, ice cream spilled on the street, even the garbage cans, by this time at night overflowing—made me think: Such richness. That was the same thing I’d felt the very first night we got here, walking around the Village with Clover. I thought it again but even more strongly tonight.
“Soon,” was all Alexander said. And then: “When do you go back to San Francisco?”
“Soon,” was all I said too.
Because with some people you don’t even need words. With some people you can be silent comfortably. You just have this feeling about them. It’s kind of like what Clover called being a kindred spirit.
Alexander took my hand as we walked inside the building. He’s going to kiss me! I thought. And when finally he did, I was so relieved, because let’s face it, I did want to get to go back to San Francisco and say to all of my friends: I’ve been kissed.
But it made me realize again what a difference there can be in kisses. For instance, there was the way that I had seen Digby kiss Clover that day at Grand Central, a sad, lingering kiss. I am sure that there was sadness in that kiss; I felt it. I think that must have been because they were older and meeting again for the first time in years. And then there was the way that Val told me that Julian had kissed her for the first time on the roof-deck of Barge Music, taking her into his arms all of a sudden. I think that must have been because they were young and confident. But Alexander and I were even younger than them, of course, and not quite so confident. For one thing, even though he kissed me, he forgot the part about taking me in his arms, like Julian did with Val, or like they do in the movies. Instead he just kind of bent down a little and pressed his lips to mine, and I pressed mine right back. Because, even though there can be such a difference in kisses, your first one is something to remember all your life.
22
Nice to Have Known You
I was still thinking about Alexander kissing me—trying to remember it—when we got back to the party and Clover asked Val and me to step away and have a private talk in our bedroom.
“Sit down,” she said, closing the door behind her. We sat down on our little Madeline beds. Then Clover sat down on my bed too and squeezed my hand.
Valentine was impatient to get back to the party. She gestured to her empty glass. She was thirsty, she said.
“Girls…” said Clover, and paused.
“What is it?” whined Valentine. And although I wouldn’t have spoken to Clover that way under any circumstances, I was getting impatient too, because I only had thoughts for Alexander.
“I’m going to put this plainly. Something terrible has happened. I just found out over the phone, while you were out getting ice, Franny. Well—this is it. What I have to tell you. Aunt Theo died.”
“Died?” echoed Valentine, her mouth a perfect O. Then before I knew it, she was crying. It was only now that I noticed there were faint tears on Clover’s lashes. She must have tried to wash them away before telling us the news.
“What? When?” I asked.
“In Germany. She was still in Germany apparently. She never did get on the plane. Oh, it sounds like it was very peaceful! She was in her bed at home. She always made sure she had a beautiful bed. She always had all of these velvet pillows…” And at the mention of the velvet pillows now Clover was crying too, and had gone over to Valentine’s bed to give her a hug.
“Had she been sick a long time?” I wanted to know, still taking it in.
“Yes actually, though she didn’t want me to tell you girls or your parents either—she didn’t want to let on.”