been confined to brief kisses at school parties or on the steps of brownstones after movie dates, discovered in the next few minutes many variations on the same fascinating theme. At last he simply held her close, his arms wrapped around her slim body, her face buried in his shoulder.
She lifted her head, looking a little dazed. “We have the whole day ahead of us,” she said. “Just think of that.”
“I am,” he answered. “And it’s clearing up.”
Out in the harbor the clustered masts were emerging from the mist. On one a flag stirred and opened to the rising breeze, flaring into color with the first touch of sun. Behind them the wet branches of the trees shone silver in the new light growing in the east, and on the face of the river the fog rolled and broke, the gray water suddenly flashing blue.
They turned to walk along the waterfront, their arms entwined, the big dog ranging among the trees, the world brightening around them. Ahead stretched a day of infinite possibilities unfolding before them like a multicolored fan.
Chapter Eleven
October came, and Bren spent most of its brief golden days either in class or entombed in the theater. He made this sacrifice willingly, but not without regret.
Macbeth
and Erika claimed the time he would have spent squeezing the last good out of the park before winter’s early dark changed everything.
Preparations for the play quickened toward its opening on November sixth, a date that now seemed terrifyingly near. Edward Behrens spent the hours after school in the cafeteria trying to persuade his young cast that the words of Shakespeare expressed the passionate lives of people as real as themselves. It was uphill work.
Meanwhile in the basement, the technical crew struggled with tasks at least as hard. How would the witches disappear into thin air or Banquo’s ghost come and go in the crowded banquet hall? There were apparitions (four of them, all different) and a forest that got up and walked. These problems were added to others that were more conventional but hardly less daunting. A grim and solid castle was required. Some scenes would take place inside, some out, and some both out and in. And all this had to be whisked away to give place to a barren heath.
The electrical wonders created by Eli and Bren were matched on the stage itself by the carpentry work of a blond giant named Jeremy, who had an uncanny way with canvas and chicken wire, and by Erika, who had somehow become chief carpenter’s mate. Bren was not sure that he liked Jeremy, but he had little chance to find out. Dragging the heavy skeins of cable across the back of the balcony and listening to the hammering and laughter from backstage, he reflected bitterly on his original picture of himself and Erika working together day after day on the production of
Macbeth
.
But they still left school together and walked to Broadway through the autumn dusk. Sometimes they stopped off for coffee or ice cream before going home. On two successive Saturdays they worked in the theater, and on both Sundays it rained. There was no repetition of the idyllic day by the river, and Bren began to wonder if there ever would be.
Then one evening, as they stood indecisively on the corner, Erika said, “Hey, I know what, Bren. Come on home with me for a little bit. We can have a beer instead of all this legal slop, and you can see my place. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and meet my old man.”
Bren studied the last sentence for traces of irony, but was unable to decide whether Erika actually wanted him to meet her father or not. The proposal was curiously unappealing, especially since he was sure his beloved was one jump ahead of him and would soon be hinting at a reciprocal visit. Her interest in his home and family had not faded with time and evasion. Rather the contrary. Still, he was curious to know what lay beyond the Apthorp’s courtyard and reluctant, as usual, to part from her after their short walk.
The front door
She lifted her head, looking a little dazed. “We have the whole day ahead of us,” she said. “Just think of that.”
“I am,” he answered. “And it’s clearing up.”
Out in the harbor the clustered masts were emerging from the mist. On one a flag stirred and opened to the rising breeze, flaring into color with the first touch of sun. Behind them the wet branches of the trees shone silver in the new light growing in the east, and on the face of the river the fog rolled and broke, the gray water suddenly flashing blue.
They turned to walk along the waterfront, their arms entwined, the big dog ranging among the trees, the world brightening around them. Ahead stretched a day of infinite possibilities unfolding before them like a multicolored fan.
Chapter Eleven
October came, and Bren spent most of its brief golden days either in class or entombed in the theater. He made this sacrifice willingly, but not without regret.
Macbeth
and Erika claimed the time he would have spent squeezing the last good out of the park before winter’s early dark changed everything.
Preparations for the play quickened toward its opening on November sixth, a date that now seemed terrifyingly near. Edward Behrens spent the hours after school in the cafeteria trying to persuade his young cast that the words of Shakespeare expressed the passionate lives of people as real as themselves. It was uphill work.
Meanwhile in the basement, the technical crew struggled with tasks at least as hard. How would the witches disappear into thin air or Banquo’s ghost come and go in the crowded banquet hall? There were apparitions (four of them, all different) and a forest that got up and walked. These problems were added to others that were more conventional but hardly less daunting. A grim and solid castle was required. Some scenes would take place inside, some out, and some both out and in. And all this had to be whisked away to give place to a barren heath.
The electrical wonders created by Eli and Bren were matched on the stage itself by the carpentry work of a blond giant named Jeremy, who had an uncanny way with canvas and chicken wire, and by Erika, who had somehow become chief carpenter’s mate. Bren was not sure that he liked Jeremy, but he had little chance to find out. Dragging the heavy skeins of cable across the back of the balcony and listening to the hammering and laughter from backstage, he reflected bitterly on his original picture of himself and Erika working together day after day on the production of
Macbeth
.
But they still left school together and walked to Broadway through the autumn dusk. Sometimes they stopped off for coffee or ice cream before going home. On two successive Saturdays they worked in the theater, and on both Sundays it rained. There was no repetition of the idyllic day by the river, and Bren began to wonder if there ever would be.
Then one evening, as they stood indecisively on the corner, Erika said, “Hey, I know what, Bren. Come on home with me for a little bit. We can have a beer instead of all this legal slop, and you can see my place. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and meet my old man.”
Bren studied the last sentence for traces of irony, but was unable to decide whether Erika actually wanted him to meet her father or not. The proposal was curiously unappealing, especially since he was sure his beloved was one jump ahead of him and would soon be hinting at a reciprocal visit. Her interest in his home and family had not faded with time and evasion. Rather the contrary. Still, he was curious to know what lay beyond the Apthorp’s courtyard and reluctant, as usual, to part from her after their short walk.
The front door
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