The following afternoon, Shirley and I had plans to meet up and go to the library in the basement of the elementary school, followed by a trip to Hoy’s and the new little boutique in town that had bikinis in the window.
Shirley was late though. Very late. Eventually, I walked down the street and got myself a milkshake from Avalon Freeze. If she wanted one, she could get one when we were done. I sat on a bench with it, waiting and people watching. The story I was writing would be set in New York, but I could still pick up mannerisms from the pedestrians here.
A woman a few years older than me walked by, holding the hand of a young girl, her husband on the other side of the daughter, an even younger daughter on the husband’s shoulders.
“You have to admit it’s lovely here,” the man said to his wife.
“It is, darling,” she said. “Of course, it’s no Hereford.”
The man rolled his eyes with a small laugh. “You don’t think anything is as good as Hereford, Evelyn.”
“That’s because nothing is. But if it means we get an extra two weeks of beach time with you, I can make an exception once in a while.”
The husband smiled at her.
“Who wants ice cream?” she asked the girls. “Joanie? I know you do.”
The little girl on her father’s shoulders squealed and clapped her hands. “It does make everything better, doesn’t it?” the husband said.
“I thought that was you?”
He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
I watched them as they walked away. They seemed so very much in love, which, with two young children, felt like an accomplishment. I tried to remember the last time I saw my parents show each other affection, and I couldn’t think of anything.
Eventually, I gave up, assuming Shirley forgot about me. I debated going to the library myself, but I had a new box of books from my mother and decided to wait. We could always go another day. It was too nice out to be in a moldy basement anyway. I could sit out on the porch and read with a glass of lemonade quite contentedly. Or maybe take my typewriter out there and work at the table. I wanted to use the easy way that husband looked at his wife so adoringly somehow.
But as I reached 23rd Street, I saw Shirley practically running toward me. I looked to see who could possibly be chasing her, but there was no one. “You don’t need to run—it’s okay that you forgot,” I called to her.
She reached me, panting heavily for breath. “Marilyn—you—won’t believe—what—just happened.”
“Catch your breath,” I told her. She took a moment to collect herself.
“Freddy is getting married,” she said, still huffing slightly.
I felt my shoulders tense. I told him I wasn’t ready for any of that. He said he understood. And now he was telling his family that he was getting married?
“Not anytime soon,” I muttered darkly. But Shirley didn’t seem to notice.
“A girl he was dating in the spring showed up with her parents—she’s pregnant. And Papa said if Freddy doesn’t step up and marry her, he’s going to cut him off!”
My blood turned to ice, and my vision narrowed to a pinprick of light. I reached out and grabbed at Shirley’s arm dizzily, close to fainting for the first time in my life. Shirley was still talking, but she sounded far away, like a buzzing insect somewhere out of sight yet trapped in the house.
I kept breathing, and finally my vision cleared. “Stop,” I said weakly. “I—you must have misunderstood.”
Shirley shook her head, then finally seemed to notice I was in distress. “Wait—I thought you weren’t keen on him.” I couldn’t answer. Shirley’s face turned suspicious, and she crossed her arms. “You said it was just a bit of fun.”
“I suppose I didn’t realize he was ‘having fun’ with so many people.”
“You’re not in a fix too, are you? That’d make this a lot more interesting.” She grinned gleefully at the idea.
I turned abruptly and started walking home. Shirley trailed after me. “He’ll likely choose you if you are. Especially because Papa will definitely cut him off if he got two girls pregnant, and you’ve got plenty of money—”
“Please just let me be,” I said, shaking off the hand she tried to put on my arm.
She stopped walking but shouted after me. “It’s not my fault, you know. I told you what he was like. If you were stupid enough to fall for him anyway, that’s on you!”
Ada was sitting at the desk in the living room when I walked in. Sally didn’t even bark at me anymore. “Are you all right?” she asked, rising.
“Too much sun, I think,” I said. “I’m just going to go lie down.”
I didn’t look to see if she believed me. I just went up the stairs. But the tears wouldn’t come. It had to be a mistake. Or a mean joke from Shirley. There was just no way . . . Was there?
No, I knew I wasn’t Freddy’s first, but even if the girl showing up were true, would he—could he marry someone else when just the night before, he was planning for our future?
I went to the bathroom and retched, then returned to my room, where I lay down and stared at the ceiling for an eternity, wondering if this was my punishment for refusing to marry him after what we had done.
At some point, I dozed off. Miserable and curled on my side in the fetal position, I awoke to the sound of Sally barking wildly. Dumb dog, I thought, burrowing further into my pillow. If I was asleep, I didn’t have to feel anything.
But Sally kept barking, and above that, I heard Ada talking to someone. Sally’s barking cut off abruptly in a sound I knew—Ada was holding her mouth shut. I stood and crept to the door and opened it a crack.
“Absolutely not,” Ada was saying. “And even if I were going to allow her an audience with a young man, she’s unwell today.”
A young man. It was Freddy. I knew there was a mistake!
I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping, and then skidded to a stop on the wood floor. They both turned toward me. Freddy looked wretched—like he had aged ten years overnight. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was pale under his tan, and his hair was disheveled. Ada looked from me to him and back to me. A muscle ticked in her jaw, which was set firmly.
She finally turned back to Freddy. “You have ten minutes. On the porch. And I keep the windows open.”
I was frozen in place. The fact that he was here. That he looked as miserable as he did. Shirley had been telling the truth. And if I didn’t go on that porch, I didn’t have to hear it from him. I could run back upstairs and pretend it never happened. But Ada looked at me. “Unless you don’t want to go. I can send him away,” she offered.
I blinked heavily, and then walked forward. The air had turned to soup, too heavy to move through as I normally would, and I was afraid it would drown me.
“Ten minutes,” she reminded us. “And not one second more.”