Such Sweet Thunder (68 page)

When they parted he gave her a note for Cosima. It contained the sonnet that he had not been able to read in class. On his way home he imagined her reading it in secret, feeling the passion with which he would have read it had his heart not overwhelmed his voice. She would place it under her pillow and listen to his words in the dark.

Even as he uttered them now, in the dark, from the depths of the red room. He turned on his side and discovered that the stars shone brightly. It seemed a good omen.

He was already awake when Rutherford called, and all along the way to school he plotted his campaign. He would concentrate on the yearbook, making a mental list of the districts he would canvass for ads. He would try to get the dances organized as soon as possible, so that he might get a chance to dance with
her
, to talk to
her
all the sooner. He suddenly realized that he had never talked to her, never had a real conversation with her. In fact, he had hardly heard her voice at all, except in class, only to answer a question, which answer was usually brief and
always
right. Reserved and shy, he reflected admiringly. A real lady! Yes, he must get the dances organized as soon as possible. To dance with
her!
Hey! hey! But dignified! None a that grindin’ and stuff. On the toes, Jack! In a graceful whirl on the toes! Round and round! The dance, that was it. And the honor roll? At this point the incorrigible doubt assailed him: a looooooooong chemistry equation deployed and encircled him, while history threatened his rear. “We realleh ccaun’t geo on like thissss!” he exclaimed aloud in an effort to cheer himself up, but anxiety made him cast a quick glance at the trees, at the sky in which the sun glared threateningly. He reflected that if he could only pluck it out of the sky and put it in the icebox, keep it cool, he might check the advance of spring, and he would have the chance to do all the things he wanted to do, all the things he hadn’t done in sixteen years, but which he must now attempt to do in three — not quite three — months!

By the end of March time had become a heavy weight that had insinuated itself into his blood, turning it into iron; his head was a heavy iron ball and his clothes were of mail, everything he touched seemed so heavy that he could not take hold.

The first dance had finally been arranged for the second week in
April. He had wanted one every week, but the administration had objected because of the expenses. So the second week in April came and the dance was on. The orchestra played smooth and easy, like John Kirby said. Like Basie and Lunceford. The senior class turned out full force, but
she
didn’t come. He danced with Ruth, Helen, and Mary Ann. He did the boogie with pretty little June Williams. But not one dance with Cosima Thornton.
She
was not there.

“What happened, Mary Ann?”

“I don’t know.” She touched his arm consolingly.

“Did you give her the poem … eh … the note?”

“Yes.”

“What did she
say?
Did she read it?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. She probably did.” Her eyes darkened.

“Wanna dance?”

“If you want to.”

They danced. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. She really was not there. He looked at the side of Mary Ann’s face, at her mouth which was very close to his, taking secret pleasure in the thought that he might kiss her if he wanted to, if he
dared
, and enjoyed the virtuous feeling that resulted from rejecting this temptation out of deference to his Queen.

It was a nice dance, a pretty dance, but
she
had not come. A light shone in the upper windows when he passed her house on the way home that evening, but he couldn’t see anyone behind the curtain. Up and down Eighteenth Street people stood in groups talking about the war over in Europe, but he didn’t stop to listen. Something has happened, he thought, but just what it was he could not say. He walked distractedly home trying to figure out why she hadn’t come.

All through supper he stared blankly at the big black letters sprawled across the pages of Rutherford’s paper.

“Man-man!” said Rutherford, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

“What?” Viola asked.

He looked at his mother with deep affection, as though he were just returning after a long absence and was rediscovering her. She’s getting a little fat. He let his gaze rest upon her full face. She looked buoyant, as though she were slightly filled with air. Her hair was evenly streaked with gray. But she’s still nice looking, though.…

“What?” she was asking, and he observed his father. His hair was black, though they were the same age. But he’s getting a little fat, too.

“Boy — looka there!” he heard Viola teasing him. “You gittin’ faaaaaaat! Got a bay window like nobody’s business!”

“Aaaaah-ha!” he had exclaimed with some embarrassment, drawing in his stomach and sitting a little straighter in his chair.

He doesn’t have to go to war, Amerigo thought. Too old. He measured the time, counted the suns and moons, the raindrops and snowflakes, measured the volume of the wind: I’m sixteen … and he’s … they’re thirty-one … -two … because …

“Man-man!…” Rutherford was saying.

“What?”

“I see here where ever’body that ain’ called yet’s gonna either have to go or work in a defense plant. You
know
where
I’m
goin’!”

“It’s takin’ a war to
blast
you out a that hotel!” Viola exclaimed. “You might as well be makin’ some of that good money, too.”

“Things gittin’ tight,” Rutherford continued. “Ol’ Uncle Joe’s been bidin’ his time so far, but now the Russians an’ ever’body else’s gotta pee or git off the pot if we gonna git out a this mess, ’cause them Germans are terrible — you heah me?”

I’ll have to get up early in the morning, he thought. Rutherford’s words had merely reminded him that tomorrow was Saturday and that if he were not careful Jerry Evans would beat him out of the business manager’s post. Then, too, there was the commencement speech to write, just in case he was accepted by the honors committee. Miss Southern was the chairman, so the speech would have to be good. And if that was not enough to occupy his mind, final examinations were coming up soon. Looooooong division! a voice whispered, and he heard the poisonous hiss of chemistry, watched the steel-helmeted dates and isms that were history, climbing over the top. He should get the next dance arranged. So many people to call and all. And the choir was singing next Thursday at the synagogue.…

“I made it,” he exclaimed to Mary Ann the following afternoon at four o’clock.

“But the grades aren’t even out yet!” she exclaimed.

“Aw, I don’t mean that, I mean I sold the most ads for the yearbook. I’m the business manager.”

“That’s
wonderful!
” she cried, a bit too joyously, he thought. Her eyes shone as though they were wet under the long fringes of her eyelashes.
He couldn’t avoid looking at them, and she, perceiving this, blushed deeply, which caused the dimples on either side of her mouth to make her face look pretty, even beautiful! he hazarded to think.

“Come on,” he said, taking her affectionately by the hand.

“Where?” she asked.

“I’ll show you.”

“Here,” he said at last. They stood before the gate of Aunt Rose’s yard. April had washed it clean. All the grasses and new flowers were shining, immaculate even behind the ears.

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclap!
thundered the myriad invisible hands as they entered the yard.

Aunt Rose stood behind the screen, her body forming a huge bulky silhouette that filled the door.

“Why come on in —” she exclaimed before he had a chance to ring the bell, “come in!”

He opened the door and stepped back so that Mary Ann could enter first. And presently they were sitting at the big round table all decked out in Aunt Rose’s finest linen, with beautiful cups and saucers that he had only seen in the china cabinet, and bright polished spoons of real silver.

“One lump or two, miss?” said Aunt Rose.

“Please call me Mary Ann.”

“All right, Mary Ann.”

“Two, please.”

“Lemon or cream?”

“Lemon, thank you.”

“How about you, Amerigo?”

“Huh? Eh — two. I mean three! Please.”

“Lemon? Cream?”

“Eh, no’m — neither … ne
i
theh one, thanks.”

They sipped their tea and he felt like a sissy, drinking from that thin little cup that was so light that he could hardly feel the weight of it in his hand. Two gulps and the tea was gone. He stared at the biscuit in his other hand. He had intended to eat it as he drank the tea. Frustrated, he looked at Aunt Rose with a confused smile. She smiled back and they laughed, Mary Ann, too, they all laughed heartily. The ice was broken.

“So you’re goin’ to teacher’s college —” Aunt Rose was saying to Mary Ann. “That’s fine. I wish you all the success in the world. I knew my boy could pick ’um, all right —”

He looked anxiously at Mary Ann. He tried to interrupt Aunt Rose, but she was drifting through the mellow haze of a pleasant speculation. “Amerigo’s a lot different from the others, Mary Ann, he’s a dreamer … got his head in the clouds. Always did. Like his momma. Aaaaaalways did wanna be somebody. It does my heart good just to look at the two of you. How many kids you plannin’ on havin’?”

He blushed to the roots of his teeth while Mary Ann laughed as though his embarrassment were tickling her to death.

“She’s very nice,” said Mary Ann, as they left the house. She locked her arm in his and pressed her cheek against his shoulder as they walked, while he strained to control the uneasy feeling that her nearness gave him. He consoled himself that it wasn’t
his
fault, that
he
hadn’t done it. Done what? He stopped abruptly and looked at her as though she were a stranger.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him in a tone that betrayed the fact that she knew, releasing the grip on his arm with an expression that once again obscured the beauty of her face and metamorphosed her into a negative of Cosima. He looked at her now as though he were trying to discover Cosima in her face. It’s no use, is it? her expression seemed to say. And once again he had the feeling that something had happened, and he knew that he knew.

“You got a date for the dance yet?” he asked her.

“No!” She turned away from him.

“I mean —”

“I
know
what you mean!”

“Has anybody asked
her
yet?”

“No! Nobody dares.”

“Will, will you ask her for me?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself!”

“I never get a chance to see her alone. Always in class. And you
know
how everybody talks! Old lady Southern saw us coming in class together the other day and she called her and said something to her. I couldn’t hear it, but you
know
what she said, and I do, too! They don’t think I’m good enough for her. I —”

“I’ve asked her already,” said Mary Ann in a quiet even voice that was a little frightening.

“WHAAT?”

“I
know
you’re blind as a bat, Amerigo Jones, but are you deaf, too?” she shouted.

But he didn’t hear her, the bells of the world pealed in his ears, and he struggled to scream above the roar:

“W-h-a-t — d-i-d — s-h-e — s-a-y?”

“She said she’d see. Mrs. Thornton wouldn’t care so much, but it’s
Mister
Thornton — he’s the one you’ve got to —”

“All I want to
do
is take her to a
dance!
” he uttered painfully. “I’m not going to
eat
her!”

“Amerigo,” said Mary Ann, “that dance is two months away! There’s still time! Besides, the world won’t come to an end if —”

The pained expression on his face made her stop, as though she, too, heard the loud pealing of the bells, all the bells in the world.

“Amerigo! I made it! I made it!” Mary Ann shouted as she rushed up to him the following evening.

“Congratulations,” he said, forcing a bitter smile.

“Oh,” said Mary Ann, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —”

“That’s all right. That’s … that’s all right.”

“But you can
still
read your speech!” she said consolingly. “You don’t
have
to be on the honor roll. The announcement came out today, the speeches are going to be judged on the basis of quality alone — and on how well you say it. You’ve still got a chance. Is it ready?”

“Ready? Oh — what’s the use!”

“What’s the
use!
A-merigo Jones!”

“What do you want me to
do?
” he screeched. “You
know
that if I’m not on that list, and everybody
else
who’s making a speech
is
— I don’t have a chance!”

“You can try!”

“You think I
could?
”

Again her eyes shone as though they were wet, as though they would extinguish the ravaging fires that consumed the world.

“I
know
you can!” she declared.

Her gaze was steady, her smile full of hope. Their faces grew close.

“Maybe I could,” he whispered. “Aaaaaaaaaw —”

“Now what?” she asked impatiently.

“I’ve hardly even started it. And it has to be ready day after tomorrow. And there’s the
dance! That’s
not even
half
ready!”

“Oh!” cried Mary Ann, “I almost forgot.…”

“What?”

“She’s coming. She asked Mrs. Thornton and she said yes before her father had time to object, only she has to be home by six o’clock.”

All the next day he struggled under a mountain of cares, while his classmates flitted in and out of sunny rooms, sporting their blue and gold ribbons that furled in the freshets of spring air bursting from bellowing lungs, from windows thrown open, from slamming doors, as though March was still pursuing April who was stuck on May!

All day long the torturous bliss inspired by the knowledge that
she
would come was rendered less bearable by the insinuating bells:

Rrrrrrrring!

A veil of light fell from the sky and caught the twelve o’clock sun blushing in its nakedness. And then May shivered sensuously into the afternoon.