know where she is, to call her, and she doesn’t know where I am, here at Ocean City, to call me. So of course I haven’t talked with her.”
“Couldn’t you hold off? Until you do?”
“And say what?”
“Find out how she feels.”
“You mean, ask her permission?”
“Gramie, she’s entitled to be heard.”
“Not on this—nobody is, but me and Sonya.”
“Well, thank you!”
“Not even beautiful you—get your mouth out.”
“Now I know where I get off.”
“Are you coming?”
She went into a long harangue, with tears, pleas, and jokes about Jane’s desires, saying everything all over, and when at last I told her to cool it, that my mind was made up, she moaned: “Then—if you’re set on doing this thing—of course I want to come. I thought her a very nice child, and I felt she was a musician. Over the phone I liked her—she was respectful, and I felt she had something. So it’s not personal. But Gramie: You’re talking about love, I’m talking about money—and there’s no reason you can’t have both. You can have that million dollars, and you can also have love, love by the dark of the moon, that Jane doesn’t know about. And once Sonya gets through her head what she eventually will come into, as Jane can’t live forever, you’ll be surprised at how sensible she’ll be. Will you talk it over with her? She’s entitled to be heard, you said!”
“No, I won’t.”
“Then all right, I’ll come to your wedding.”
She made it sound like good-bye in the deathhouse, but I played it straight, thanking her, and said we could meet at the Langs’ and all go in my car. Then she asked if it would help if she rode the Langs in her car to Rockville, so I could go there with Sonya, and not have to haul anyone else. I said it would, and that if she would call the Langs, I’d check with her later, as soon as I got home with Sonya.
“Then all right, Gramie. God bless.”
“And God bless you, Sweetie Pie.”
I walked back up the boardwalk again, but before going upstairs climbed down once more to the sand, and camped again on my dune. The beach was deserted at this hour, except for a girl some distance down, exercising a dog with a ball. It was me, the sand, and the sea, and I thought to myself, Why are you being so noble? I don’t think anyone’s ever quite sure why he does something important, but my coming back to this dune, to look at the sea and think, was certainly some kind of tip-off. Because once more I thought about God, who was certainly part of it, this decision I had come to. Until now, God and I weren’t exactly intimates. I often took Mother to church, and sometimes Jane went with us, to St. Andrews in College Park, and put something in the plate, as well as kicked in for all kinds of different charities but it was strictly a Sunday thing, and I’m not sure I ever prayed. But when I was with Sonya, God was part of it too, and I wasn’t sure He’d get the point, or play it funny at all, if I gave Him a ring just now, and said: “Hold everything, God—there’s been a switch in the plans, and I don’t want to get married now.” I thought He might be getting a bit sick of me. I thought, when you make up your mind on something, at least something as big as that, you’ve made it up for keeps or it’s not made up at all. I knew then it would stay made up.
When I got back to the suite, Sonya was charging around, dragging the bags to the door, her suitcase, my canvas zipper bag, the hatbox, and the various other boxes. She said: “Okay, you carry the bag, I’ll carry the rest.”
“Fine. Kiss me.”
“What did she say?”
“What did who say?”
“Your mother. Remember?”
“Oh! That she’s hauling your parents to Rockville.”
“What else?”
“That she likes you, that she thinks you’re a real musician, that though young, she felt you had something, when she talked to you over the phone.”
“What else?”
“Was I sure I knew what I was
“Couldn’t you hold off? Until you do?”
“And say what?”
“Find out how she feels.”
“You mean, ask her permission?”
“Gramie, she’s entitled to be heard.”
“Not on this—nobody is, but me and Sonya.”
“Well, thank you!”
“Not even beautiful you—get your mouth out.”
“Now I know where I get off.”
“Are you coming?”
She went into a long harangue, with tears, pleas, and jokes about Jane’s desires, saying everything all over, and when at last I told her to cool it, that my mind was made up, she moaned: “Then—if you’re set on doing this thing—of course I want to come. I thought her a very nice child, and I felt she was a musician. Over the phone I liked her—she was respectful, and I felt she had something. So it’s not personal. But Gramie: You’re talking about love, I’m talking about money—and there’s no reason you can’t have both. You can have that million dollars, and you can also have love, love by the dark of the moon, that Jane doesn’t know about. And once Sonya gets through her head what she eventually will come into, as Jane can’t live forever, you’ll be surprised at how sensible she’ll be. Will you talk it over with her? She’s entitled to be heard, you said!”
“No, I won’t.”
“Then all right, I’ll come to your wedding.”
She made it sound like good-bye in the deathhouse, but I played it straight, thanking her, and said we could meet at the Langs’ and all go in my car. Then she asked if it would help if she rode the Langs in her car to Rockville, so I could go there with Sonya, and not have to haul anyone else. I said it would, and that if she would call the Langs, I’d check with her later, as soon as I got home with Sonya.
“Then all right, Gramie. God bless.”
“And God bless you, Sweetie Pie.”
I walked back up the boardwalk again, but before going upstairs climbed down once more to the sand, and camped again on my dune. The beach was deserted at this hour, except for a girl some distance down, exercising a dog with a ball. It was me, the sand, and the sea, and I thought to myself, Why are you being so noble? I don’t think anyone’s ever quite sure why he does something important, but my coming back to this dune, to look at the sea and think, was certainly some kind of tip-off. Because once more I thought about God, who was certainly part of it, this decision I had come to. Until now, God and I weren’t exactly intimates. I often took Mother to church, and sometimes Jane went with us, to St. Andrews in College Park, and put something in the plate, as well as kicked in for all kinds of different charities but it was strictly a Sunday thing, and I’m not sure I ever prayed. But when I was with Sonya, God was part of it too, and I wasn’t sure He’d get the point, or play it funny at all, if I gave Him a ring just now, and said: “Hold everything, God—there’s been a switch in the plans, and I don’t want to get married now.” I thought He might be getting a bit sick of me. I thought, when you make up your mind on something, at least something as big as that, you’ve made it up for keeps or it’s not made up at all. I knew then it would stay made up.
When I got back to the suite, Sonya was charging around, dragging the bags to the door, her suitcase, my canvas zipper bag, the hatbox, and the various other boxes. She said: “Okay, you carry the bag, I’ll carry the rest.”
“Fine. Kiss me.”
“What did she say?”
“What did who say?”
“Your mother. Remember?”
“Oh! That she’s hauling your parents to Rockville.”
“What else?”
“That she likes you, that she thinks you’re a real musician, that though young, she felt you had something, when she talked to you over the phone.”
“What else?”
“Was I sure I knew what I was
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