While he searched for his key, Mabel leaned her head back to take in the full scope of the night sky. Were those the same stars and moon she’d seen before they’d blown up the mine? Everything felt different now. She was different. When they entered Arthur’s flat, it also seemed different with just the two of them in it, the street light shining through the window and pooling onto the floor. It was both threatening and exciting. Mabel was nervous. She let her fingers trail over the back of a chair. The sensation made her dizzy.
Arthur lowered the blinds and Mabel’s heartbeat quickened. In the slashes of light, she could see the outline of his firm body, the sinewy muscles cut like a navy yard brawler’s.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Raise and lower the blinds so much.”
“I don’t know. I like the street light at night, I guess. It’s comforting. I know I’m a little old for that, but…” He shrugged, sheepish. One minute, Arthur was streetwise and bold, full of swagger. The next, he was boyish and sweet. Right now the way he was looking at her was anything but boyish.
“I-I should probably go home,” Mabel said, though she didn’t want to leave.
Arthur closed the distance between them. “Didn’t you tell your parents you were staying the night with Evie?”
Mabel swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He took hold of Mabel’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. Mabel could scarcely breathe. Arthur cocked his head. “Is… is there another fella?”
Another fella. It was funny to Mabel now to think that she had ever wanted Jericho. Cool, detached Jericho. They were chalk and cheese. Arthur was a fire and, at twenty, a man. It was only just now dawning on Mabel that she had found someone to match her passion.
“No. Not anymore,” she answered.
“I like you so much, Mabel Rose. Do you…?” He left it unfinished.
“Yes.”
Arthur drew Mabel into his arms and kissed her.
The only other kiss Mabel had known was with Jericho. Even then, she’d suspected he had done it more out of curiosity and politeness than real desire. Now that she was being kissed properly, she knew the difference. Arthur held her tightly. The stubble of his chin scratched her cheek, not unpleasantly. She had the fleeting thought that she’d need to cover it with powder later—maybe Theta would have some? But then she was lost to that fire again.
Arthur broke away, and Mabel wanted him back.
“Stay?” Arthur pushed back the curtain. His bed lay behind it.
For just a second, Mabel wished she could call and ask Evie what she should do. But Mabel had been breaking the old rules tonight. She was a new girl. No, a new woman. She needed to make her own decisions. She was shy about showing her body. Slim flappers with sun-golden tans were the fashion. Mabel’s body was curvaceous and soft, pale and a little freckled. What if Arthur didn’t like the way she looked and felt? He moved behind her and unbuttoned her dress, letting it slip to the floor. He kissed tenderly from her right shoulder up her neck to her ear. Mabel moaned as his hands came around front and cupped her full breasts under her chemise. And then her chemise was on the floor. She curled into herself, seated at the edge of the bed.
“I want to look at you,” Arthur said. His voice was husky. It made Mabel’s stomach flutter, made her head dizzy.
She turned to face him, keeping her arms protectively crossed over her chest like a shield. Arthur was naked. Mabel gasped. She’d never seen a naked man before, and she’d certainly never seen an aroused naked man. The moonlight shone on Arthur’s tight muscles, making them seem carved of marble. There was a dusting of hair that led from his navel down to the part that both fascinated and terrified her. She was doing this, then. They were doing this. This was real.
“I want to see you. All of you,” Arthur said gently. He ran the back of his hand down one of Mabel’s crossed arms. Mabel lowered them, exposing herself, blushing as Arthur took in all of her. Arthur leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Then he laid her back on the bed and kissed her breasts, moving farther and farther down. Instinctively, she clamped her legs shut.
“No?” Arthur whispered, coming back up to face her. He swept her hair back from her forehead and looked into her eyes.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m… I don’t know what to do.”
Arthur kissed her. “I do,” he whispered.
Slowly, she opened her legs. Mabel had felt many wonderful things: the first snow landing on her upturned face. The warm summer sun shining down on her toes in the Coney Island sand. But when Arthur touched her between her legs with his warm, sure fingers, she was certain it was the most exquisite feeling she had ever had in her life. He kept at it, building heat there until she thought she might burst from ecstasy. Warmth shot from her belly up to her head, and she cried out and flung her arms around Arthur’s neck. He smiled and reached into his nightstand drawer and brought out a small package.
“A raincoat,” Arthur said, taking out the rubber and putting it on. Mabel looked away, embarrassed. It seemed silly to be embarrassed by this considering what he’d just done to her, what they were about to do, but somehow watching this act made everything seem all too real.
“I love you, Mabel Rose,” Arthur said, and then he was inside her. At first, there was a little pain. But then, as they moved together, it went away. Mabel felt warm and free. Her mind whirred: He said he loves me.
I am now a woman.
My mother would kill me if she knew. My father would kill him.
Will they be able to read it in my face? Will everybody?
I got there before Evie did—I was finally first.
Everything is different now.
Arthur cried out and went very still. For a second, Mabel was afraid she’d hurt him. He collapsed and rolled to the side of her, breathing heavily. Grinning. He was grinning from ear to ear. I did that, Mabel thought. I made him smile like that.
“Come here, you,” Arthur growled, and drew Mabel into his arms. “Mabel Rose. My beautiful Mabel Rose.” They lay like that for some time until they fell asleep.
Only a few blocks away, Henry and David sat beside each other at the piano and finished up a song they’d been working on well into the night.
“And with each kiss such bliss is mine, you see. For he’s the boy whose heart beats sweet for me.…” Henry sang. He looked shyly at David. “They’ll make us change that line, you know.”
“Yeah. I know. But I wanted to hear you sing it to me just once.”
“I’ll sing it to you anytime,” Henry said.
“That true?” David asked, keeping his eyes on the piano keys. And Henry could feel the real question lurking underneath: Do you really care about me? Or are you still in love with a ghost?
After Louis, Henry had held back some part of himself. He was afraid of being hurt again. There’d been so much loss that sometimes, Henry worried that he would always walk through life with a thin glaze over the cracks in his heart. But sitting there on the piano bench, looking at David’s sensual profile, listening to him play with the melody they’d written together, it was almost as if he could hear Louis whispering to him: You got a lot to live for, cher. You can run from it or you can fight for it.
When Henry didn’t answer, David turned to face him, puzzled. “What?”
“This,” Henry said, and kissed David deeply.