Always and Forever by Cynthia Freeman

for return transportation sometime in February. He kept talking about flying to Paris. Would she ever see Phil back in New York? It was frightening to think that she might never see him again.
    Rhoda was having a hectic fling with Frank Collins, the would-be writer from Columbia’s School of Journalism.
    “Look, we’re three thousand miles from home,” she said calmly. “Why shouldn’t I play? We’re careful. I won’t get pregnant.”
    “You hope,” Kathy said grimly. So many girls played around during the, war years, and everybody just looked the other way. But she couldn’t bring herself to sleep with Phil. Her body said “yes,” but her heart said “no.”
    “I know nothing’s going to come of it. But ten or twenty years from now, when I’m teaching somewhere in Brooklyn, I’ll look back and remember this as the exciting, wild time of my life.” Her eyes were quizzical. “I can’t figure you out. I thought you and David had something real going on, and now you’re all starry-eyed over Phil. Not that everything female in this flat doesn’t feel the same way.” She giggled reminiscently. “But I’m happy settling for Frank.”
    “David is a close friend,” Kathy said self-consciously. That’s all he wanted to be. Maybe at first she was just flattered that Phil was interested in her. He made it clear right off that he thought she was attractive and exciting, and he was dying to sleep with her. He had a way of touching her—on the hand or shoulder—that shot off fireworks in her. She’d never known anybody like Phil. What was it Rhoda said the other day? “That Phil is something. Like a character in a Hollywood movie.”
    “If Phil does go to Paris, he’d better come back with six bottles of Chanel No. 5, or he’s in big trouble,” Rhoda laughed.
    Already, they learned, Brian was trying to arrange for return transportation for the group sometime in the latter part of February and encountering problems. They’d hoped that by this time not every transatlantic ship would be commandeered to return GIs to America or to ferry war brides and babies. But again, Kathy gathered, they’d sail home on something less elegant than a commercial liner.
    “I hear the Elizabeth will be back in normal business in the fall,” Brian said humorously. “But our funds will fade away by the end of next month.”
    On a cold early February night, when their coffee supply had run out, Phil arrived with a pound of Turkish coffee he had acquired at the waterfront. While Rhoda and Claire grabbed the coffee and went out to the kitchen, Phil pulled Kathy off into a corner of the living room. None of the others had arrived home from their assignments yet, but Phil and Kathy knew they’d be coming into the flat at any moment.
    “I wangled more than coffee today,” he told her with a triumphant smile. “I have plane seats for two to Paris on Saturday morning and return seats on Sunday night.”
    “This Saturday?” She felt her face grow hot. He’d said two seats.
    “Day after tomorrow,” he confirmed. “Come with me, Kathy. You can’t go home without seeing Paris.”
    “Phil, I can’t,” she stammered. “I mean, I’ll be working Saturday:”
    “Brian will give you a day off. You’ve been working harder than anybody—”
    “Phil, I can’t.” She forced herself to meet his eyes.
    “Nothing will happen,” he promised. “Not unless you want it to. We’ll take two rooms in some little pension, ” he teased. “With no connecting door. How can you turn down a side trip to Paris?”
    “All right,” she said after a moment. Her heart pounding in anticipation. “But only if Brian agrees. And nothing is going to happen,” she stipulated. No more than already had.
    “Brian will agree.” He reached to pull her close. “You know you drive me nuts, Kathy.”
    The others arrived, and they all gathered around to sample Phil’s cache of Turkish coffee. Now he told them about his imminent excursion to