Astor Place Vintage: A Novel (35 page)

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, observing my naked body as if discovering it for the first time.

He took a condom from the nightstand drawer. I considered telling him not to bother this time, to let nature take its course, but that would’ve required a force of will I couldn’t summon. After the condom was in place, he took off his glasses—a moment I loved, when his face became vulnerable and soft. We rolled so that he lay on his back and I got on top. By the time he’d guided himself in, I barely felt him inside, couldn’t perceive where he ended
and I began. He moaned with pleasure beneath me as I moaned along because I was a bad girl, a very bad girl, but it felt so good. A girl needed to feel good or she’d feel worse than bad, she’d feel nothing. I felt like everything everywhere and didn’t want it to ever end. Finally, I couldn’t be stopped from exploding into a moment of pure delight that ended too quickly.

I rolled off him and lay on my back. My chest rose and fell with each breath. The bracelet pressed into my wrist. He cuddled up to me, nestled his face into my hair, and exhaled with satisfaction. My heartbeat slowed back down. My utter failure to assert myself sank in.

RAGTIME BLASTED FROM
the half-basement of a saloon on Bowery. A handmade sign over the door let me know I’d found
THE MAJESTIC.
I went down the cement steps into a large dim room where dancing couples crowded the floor. Admission was free, but the hat check cost a nickel. The stifling smells of tobacco, alcohol, and sweat made me wish I didn’t need to inhale.

I stood by the wall and observed the scene while trying to get my bearings. Angelina sat with a crowd from the store. Sadie danced past with the young man who demonstrated vacuums. I didn’t see Joe, but he had to be somewhere. A waiter asked if I wanted a drink. “No. Wait. Yes.” Everyone else used liquor to relax. “A whiskey, please.”

Dancing couples whirled past. I gaped at a girl in a shimmering red satin skirt. The entire front of her body was grinding in a circular motion against her partner. How could she do that in full view of anyone who wanted to see? I turned away, as shocked as Ralph Pierce would’ve been at the idea of me seeing it. Now Angelina’s
seat was empty. I scanned the crowd for her, and my eyes snagged on a man staring back at me. He was short, unshaved, and wore ragged clothes. His smile revealed two missing front teeth. I pretended not to notice him and prayed he’d go leer at someone else.

The waiter handed me my glass of whiskey. I took a gulp of the sour, bitter drink. A tumbler of gasoline would’ve been as enjoyable. I made myself drink more. Unfortunately, the place didn’t appear to serve food. I hadn’t eaten since lunch and not much then. To think I could’ve had lobster! The leering man started toward me, so I navigated to the other side of the room. While standing in a dark corner, I downed the entire glass—hang the consequences. Sadie danced past again, laughing, her frizzy hair already coming loose. I’d never seen her so happy.

I skirted the room once more and found Angelina sitting at a table, talking with Joe. My stomach did its own dance at the sight of him. Angelina rose from her chair. A moment later, so did Joe, handsome in dark trousers and a waistcoat that showed off his broad shoulders. She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek, said something that made him laugh, and then made her way toward the door. I rushed across the room to head her off. “Angelina, wait!”

She turned and saw it was me. “I’m just leaving.”

“I need to talk with you.”

“Better make it quick, then.” She stopped to get her things from the coat check. I inserted myself beside her.

“I’ve been an idiot,” I said, frustrated that I had to appeal to her profile. “You were right, and I was awful to judge you. Won’t you please accept my apology?”

“You want my forgiveness?” she said, looking straight ahead. “Fine.”

“You mean it?”

“Sure,” she said, watching the girl search through a clutter of hats and coats.

I wished I could cup my hand under Angelina’s chin and turn her face toward me. “So we’re friends again.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then you’ve not forgiven me.”

“We’re too different, that’s all.”

If only we could be alone, somewhere quiet. “But we aren’t so different, not really.”

The girl finally returned with Angelina’s hat and jacket. I followed her to the door, where she stopped to pin her hat.

“I realized something,” I said, thinking I should’ve retrieved my own hat, since I had no reason to stay now that she was leaving. “All the ways they say we’re supposed to behave, and these rules we’re supposed to follow—they’re impossible.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she said. “Well, good night.”

I followed her out the door. If I went back for my hat, I’d never catch up.

“They’re not only impossible,” I continued, “they’re set up to keep us down, and then if we ignore them, we’re told we’re evil, and who has any right to judge someone when life can be so dreadfully hard?”

She stopped and finally turned toward me. “Please don’t bother trying to make it right. It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does. Anything I said that hurt or insulted you was from ignorance. You once said you wanted to learn from me; the truth is, I’m the one who needs to learn from you.”

She laughed sharply. “That’s a joke.”

“I’m serious.”

“Pretty words, but I don’t believe ’em.”

“Why not?” I couldn’t understand why she had to be so stubborn.

“If push came to shove, you’d be judging the next girl, same as ever.”

“That’s not true. People can change.”

“So you say. Anyway, I gotta go.” She took off down the street.

I caught up. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“You’ll never be able to understand a girl like me, not really. Even if you got it all worked out in your head, you won’t feel it in your gut.”

“You think I’m so insensitive?”

“Far as that goes, I’d say you’re better than most.”

“Then why?”

We’d reached the corner. A truck barreled past, and she was forced to stop. Light from the streetlamp hit her face and illuminated a sadness in her eyes. I wanted to give her a hug, to make her laugh. “Why?” I asked again.

She turned to face me. “Because.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re too scared.”

I stared into those dark eyes as if I’d be able to see into her brain. “Of what?”

She stared back. “Being a woman.”

All I could do was stand there and blink as she turned away and crossed the street.

Remembering my hat, I returned to the Majestic. I didn’t want to stay but felt too weak to walk home. I needed food. Spotting an empty chair by Sadie, I went straight to it and dropped onto the seat as if it were the last life raft off a sinking ship.

“What’s wrong?” Sadie said. “Relax. You want a drink?”

“Have they nothing to eat here?”

“You think this is a restaurant?”

A young man I didn’t recognize asked her to dance. She took a sip of her drink and then handed it to me. “Go ahead,” she said as he pulled her to the floor, “finish it off.”

I hesitated and then took a gulp. My throat burned with every swallow. Soon the room transformed into a blur. Red lips, rouged
cheeks, warm bodies pressed together. With the music washing over me, my muscles pulsed with the urge to move. Why should I resist? The wish to dance was only human. Didn’t I qualify?

Joe sat across the room with Bill from the furniture department. If I could see him, presumably he could see me, yet he hadn’t asked me to dance. Obviously, his sweet talk and stairwell kiss meant nothing—the brute. On the other hand, he wasn’t dancing with any other girl either. I started toward him, ignoring the wooziness in my head and the floor shifting sideways under my feet.

He smiled as I approached and seemed to be surprised. “So you came after all!”

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed me before. I extended my hand toward his face. “Wanna dance?”

“You were drinking?”

“Just a little.”

“A little too much,” he said with a laugh, taking my hand nevertheless, and pulling me to an empty spot on the floor. The moment we faced each other, panic washed over me. I’d never moved my body by instinct alone—not even in the privacy of my bedroom, much less a roomful of people. But his arms went around me, and I had to move my limbs. Attempting to imitate the other women was useless. My body simply couldn’t match the syncopations of the music. I shook my head and shuffled my feet back and forth and laughed at my own ineptness. “I can’t!” I tried pulling him off the dance floor, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Stop thinking,” he yelled back, “and move!”

I was about to yell that I was moving—off the dance floor. But the room went dark. My initial relief at turning invisible was replaced by fear that something had gone wrong. I braced to get trampled in a rush for the door. Then I heard giggles and whispers and realized the lights had been extinguished on purpose. In a
moment Joe’s arms pulled me right up against him. My hands found the smooth silk on the back of his waistcoat. The music was calmer now, slower, but my heart raced as if I’d just run out the door. We swayed back and forth together. “
Sei così bella,
” he whispered in my ear. “
Così bella
 . . .”

Of course he’d try seducing me with his Italian. It wasn’t necessary. The nearness of his warm body was too tempting to resist and my curiosity too powerful to ignore. Enveloped in his arms, cloaked by darkness, I let his lips find mine and let them stay. His mustache felt like the silky fur of my old beaver hat, and I nearly laughed to think of it. Our lips melded with slippery warmth, and I wished I could swallow him up. Nothing had ever felt so luscious. I wanted it never to end.

His hands began to creep down into areas no one had ever touched. Could he tell I wore no corset? As he caressed and cradled my waist and hips, I could imagine I actually had curves. A voice in my head reminded me not to let him have his way. As Dr. Galbraith said, I needed willpower. Except with every passing moment, his way blurred into mine. He pressed hard against me and I pressed hard back, even with the shock of that bulge of his stroking the opening between my legs. If only we could squeeze through the weave of our clothes, or melt away the layers of fabric separating our skin. Shouldn’t I have the chance to find out what everyone else seemed to know? I was sick of being innocent; being the innocent was being the fool. This man could show me everything far better than any book, and then I’d never see him again, and no one would ever have to know.

The lights came on. Squinting from the sudden brightness, I didn’t know where to look, didn’t want to see or be seen.

“Let’s go,” Joe said under his breath.

He took me by the hand and pulled me across the room. Once again I failed to retrieve my hat. We flew out the door and ran
down the sidewalk as if leaving ourselves behind. Before the fresh air had a chance to clean my lungs, we reached the door to his building. I remembered entering this same hallway once before. Funny, I was missing my hat that time, too.

While climbing the stairs lit by a flickering gas jet, I counted the days since my last monthly. Fourteen days, two weeks, the middle of the cycle. According to Dr. Galbraith, I didn’t have to worry. Not that I’d let it reach that point—the risk was too great, and I wasn’t a fool. But it was nice to know, just in case.

He unlocked the door next to Angelina’s, and I followed him in. From the glow of the streetlamp outside the window, I made out two trunks against the wall. His room was the mirror image of hers, except that it was nearly empty. Before I could say anything, his arms circled my waist and he pulled me close again.

“
Bella ragazza,
” he whispered in my ear. “
Stasera sei mia
.” His lips nuzzled my neck with little kisses. “
Tutta mio
.” He let go of me to pull off his boots. I sat on one of the trunks and unbuttoned my shoes while asking myself what I thought I was doing. Getting comfortable, that was all. He pulled off his vest and then his shirt, and I barely had a chance to admire the bulging muscles of his arms or the burly bronze chest that tapered down to his slim waist before he pulled me up from the trunk and into his arms for more kisses.

Once more I was lost in his embrace with my eyes clenched shut. The smoldering itch for his touch that had propelled me to this room almost instantly flamed back up. I couldn’t stop wanting his lips and his body, and my skirts just got in the way. He pulled up my dress and my petticoat and ran his hands up and down and around everywhere he could reach. I’d never known I could open up so wide with such a wild craving to be filled. Except I had known, in my dreams; I just wouldn’t let myself realize it while awake. Yes, she was right; I’d always been afraid.

I wasn’t afraid now. Joe began to fumble with the buttons
down the front of my dress. I wondered if he had one of those rubber bags. I couldn’t possibly mention such a thing, and not only because it was vulgar; I couldn’t let him think I might let him continue to ravish me. And what if he didn’t have one? Then I’d have to insist we stop at once, and I’d never know what happened next.