yet, out in the garden, I realized that some of the strange feeling of the first night still lingered. But I couldn’t tell, really—it was all still so puzzling and so new. And the night breeze blew till the thin silk of my slip licked against my legs, cool and clean.
Beside the garden path was a rose vine clinging to a rough lattice support, the tender trailers tied with bits of string. Theheavy-headed red roses looked black in the darkness, their perfume floating upward, bewitching the air. Over the whole garden the crickets sang with a steady, rhythmical cheeping, keeping time to the music of the night. The air was soft and warm with the smell of damp earth and the lush darkness of summer. Somewhere, off where lights were bright and the night was moving, I heard a car’s brakes screak. The echo waited a moment and then all was still. One thought in my mind sang a beating refrain with the crickets—“in just a few minutes Jack will be here.” Far up in the darkness was a thin yellow arc of moon, turned over on its back, and the night sky was faintly star-dusted. Something deep within me stirred and a throbbing warmth surged through my whole body until the very tips of my fingers tingled. The whole night was drawn out like soft, silver music. Dew from the plant was cool and clean on my wrist, and as I stooped to pick the little flower heads in the darkness a small night moth with white tissue-paper wings fluttered upward from the leaves. I remember suddenly my lips felt soft, as if I had just smiled, and with a hushed feeling of breathless awe I heard myself whisper a single-word prayer, “God!”
I know you will think it’s terrible, after I had only been out with him two times but in a way I couldn’t help it—even if I did know from the very beginning of the evening, or at least from the first dance, that it would happen. If I had heard of any other girl’s doing it I would probably think the same thing you will think but, well, I did it—and I wish I could make you understand.
I can’t explain much about it—the dance itself, I mean. So much happened that I don’t remember any of it very distinctly; but it doesn’t matter much, because it wasn’t the dance, it was the evening as a whole that was so important. I do remember seeing Lorraine dance by several times with the pale blind date who had come up from Milwaukee with Art. He looked a little odd to me, gaunt and dry—like something you should soak overnight before using, but Lorraine didn’t seem to mind. Having been to college, she knows how to act at dances. She had on purplish lipstick and was dancing with her head back, laughing very hard and having a very gay time, but he was looking at her in a surprised sort of way, holding his head back at a funny angle as if his neck were stiff.
At times I could hardly believe I was actually with Jack. When he was talking to someone else and I was watching him he seemed so tan and clean, so familiar and yet so far away; he was so much fun and everyone liked him so well that it didn’t seem as if he could possibly be my date at all. It didn’t seem that a boy so nice could really be with me. Several times I felt quite sure that when the music began again he would be off dancing with someone else. Once when he introduced me to a friend of his, Dick Fox, who said, “So this is the Angie we’ve been hearing so much about,” I looked at Jack quickly but he was looking at Dick just as if he hadn’t even heard him at all.
One dance I had with Tony Becker, a boy from Oshkosh, whom Jack didn’t seem to like very well. They had playedbasketball together on opposing teams during the winter and that night Tony didn’t have a date—he was just out with the fellows, he told me. I liked Tony. I liked the way he held me when we danced and I liked him for telling me he thought my formal was pretty and for commenting on the flowers in my hair. Of course I knew it wasn’t all true but it was fun talking to
Beside the garden path was a rose vine clinging to a rough lattice support, the tender trailers tied with bits of string. Theheavy-headed red roses looked black in the darkness, their perfume floating upward, bewitching the air. Over the whole garden the crickets sang with a steady, rhythmical cheeping, keeping time to the music of the night. The air was soft and warm with the smell of damp earth and the lush darkness of summer. Somewhere, off where lights were bright and the night was moving, I heard a car’s brakes screak. The echo waited a moment and then all was still. One thought in my mind sang a beating refrain with the crickets—“in just a few minutes Jack will be here.” Far up in the darkness was a thin yellow arc of moon, turned over on its back, and the night sky was faintly star-dusted. Something deep within me stirred and a throbbing warmth surged through my whole body until the very tips of my fingers tingled. The whole night was drawn out like soft, silver music. Dew from the plant was cool and clean on my wrist, and as I stooped to pick the little flower heads in the darkness a small night moth with white tissue-paper wings fluttered upward from the leaves. I remember suddenly my lips felt soft, as if I had just smiled, and with a hushed feeling of breathless awe I heard myself whisper a single-word prayer, “God!”
I know you will think it’s terrible, after I had only been out with him two times but in a way I couldn’t help it—even if I did know from the very beginning of the evening, or at least from the first dance, that it would happen. If I had heard of any other girl’s doing it I would probably think the same thing you will think but, well, I did it—and I wish I could make you understand.
I can’t explain much about it—the dance itself, I mean. So much happened that I don’t remember any of it very distinctly; but it doesn’t matter much, because it wasn’t the dance, it was the evening as a whole that was so important. I do remember seeing Lorraine dance by several times with the pale blind date who had come up from Milwaukee with Art. He looked a little odd to me, gaunt and dry—like something you should soak overnight before using, but Lorraine didn’t seem to mind. Having been to college, she knows how to act at dances. She had on purplish lipstick and was dancing with her head back, laughing very hard and having a very gay time, but he was looking at her in a surprised sort of way, holding his head back at a funny angle as if his neck were stiff.
At times I could hardly believe I was actually with Jack. When he was talking to someone else and I was watching him he seemed so tan and clean, so familiar and yet so far away; he was so much fun and everyone liked him so well that it didn’t seem as if he could possibly be my date at all. It didn’t seem that a boy so nice could really be with me. Several times I felt quite sure that when the music began again he would be off dancing with someone else. Once when he introduced me to a friend of his, Dick Fox, who said, “So this is the Angie we’ve been hearing so much about,” I looked at Jack quickly but he was looking at Dick just as if he hadn’t even heard him at all.
One dance I had with Tony Becker, a boy from Oshkosh, whom Jack didn’t seem to like very well. They had playedbasketball together on opposing teams during the winter and that night Tony didn’t have a date—he was just out with the fellows, he told me. I liked Tony. I liked the way he held me when we danced and I liked him for telling me he thought my formal was pretty and for commenting on the flowers in my hair. Of course I knew it wasn’t all true but it was fun talking to
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