balled up."
"Go to sleep."
It was warm in the room, but I slid off the bed and put a blanket over him. He caught my wrist and held it, his eyes closed.
"Where does she go, Evie?" he asked. "Where does she go?"
To celebrate the sale, even though it hadn’t happened yet, Mr. Grayson announced that he was taking us all to dinner down the coast. Even Peter.
Chapter 18
It was time to wear the moonlight dress.
I wanted to make an entrance. Mrs. Grayson would say, I was sure, that the dress deserved an entrance.
I got dressed the way I'd seen Mom do it. Not just throwing on clothes, but walking back and forth between the mirror and the closet, brushing my hair, studying my face, sitting in my slip, smoothing the tiniest wrinkles from the skirt of the dress. Carefully, slowly, putting on lipstick. Watching myself in the mirror as I put powder on my nose and my bare shoulders. Perfume in my cleavage, the way I'd seen Mom do.
I'd mostly been just a kid during the war, and now that it was over, the only thing I wanted to remember was the romance of it. I didn't want to think of it like Mrs. Grayson, that it gave the small-minded among us something to do. It made me think of Grandma Glad, pursing her lips over the success of her Victory Garden, refusing to give away her cabbages.
I wanted to think of music, of dances, of falling in love and getting married before he got shipped overseas. And the songs —
I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
— all that longing, all that waiting. It made sense to me now. Every lyric. It wasn't about just hearing it on the radio. The strings were stretched and quivering and going crazy inside me.
If Peter and I had met during the war, would we have gotten engaged? Would things have moved faster? I knew girls who were pre-engaged at school. I used to laugh at their smugness. Now I wanted it. Time rushed at me like a subway, all air and heat. I was afraid one day we'd all pack up our cars and drive away, and I'd lose him.
"You ready in there?" Joe bellowed.
"I'll meet you downstairs! I'm not ready!"
"Aw, criminy, Evie. Do me a favor. Don't turn into your mother."
I could see it in his face. Peter saw me, really saw me, and so did Mrs. Grayson and so did Mom and so did Joe.
"You look like a dream," Peter said.
"Where did you get that dress?" Joe bellowed the words, and the lobby went silent.
Mrs. Grayson moved forward and took my arm. "I bought it for her. Doesn't she look stunning?"
"Beautiful," Peter said. "She's all grown up."
"No, she's not!" The sharpness in Mom's voice made everyone freeze.
Joe came forward. He took my other arm. "Go upstairs and put something decent on."
"Joe, she's perfectly decent —" Mrs. Grayson started.
"I'm her
father!”
Joe tugged me toward the elevator.
"She's almost sixteen," Mrs. Grayson said. But Mr. Grayson looked at her and she stopped talking.
Joe went on one side, Mom on the other. They steered me into the elevator and we went up to the room. I wanted to cry in great heaving gulps, in a way I hadn't cried in forever. But I didn't.
Mom went to my closet and got out my old best dress, the pink one with the lace on the collar. She unbuttoned the gown and got me out of it. She pulled the pink dress over my head.
"That's it," Joe said from the other room. "That's it, Evie. If you're sneaking around behind my back, it stops now."
Mom's fingers fumbled as she tried to zip up the dress.
"I won't have that man sniffing after my daughter!" Joe shouted. "Did you see the way he looked at her? Like a boy scout going for his merit badge in hound dog!"
Mom got the zipper up. She turned me around. She leaned forward and wiped my face with a wadded-up tissue. Which didn't make sense, because I wasn't crying. She was.
"It has to stop," she whispered. "Baby, it has to stop."
Joe's mood improved after three cocktails. At the restaurant he pounded Tom on the back and called him "buddy." His face was flushed red, and Mom started to
"Go to sleep."
It was warm in the room, but I slid off the bed and put a blanket over him. He caught my wrist and held it, his eyes closed.
"Where does she go, Evie?" he asked. "Where does she go?"
To celebrate the sale, even though it hadn’t happened yet, Mr. Grayson announced that he was taking us all to dinner down the coast. Even Peter.
Chapter 18
It was time to wear the moonlight dress.
I wanted to make an entrance. Mrs. Grayson would say, I was sure, that the dress deserved an entrance.
I got dressed the way I'd seen Mom do it. Not just throwing on clothes, but walking back and forth between the mirror and the closet, brushing my hair, studying my face, sitting in my slip, smoothing the tiniest wrinkles from the skirt of the dress. Carefully, slowly, putting on lipstick. Watching myself in the mirror as I put powder on my nose and my bare shoulders. Perfume in my cleavage, the way I'd seen Mom do.
I'd mostly been just a kid during the war, and now that it was over, the only thing I wanted to remember was the romance of it. I didn't want to think of it like Mrs. Grayson, that it gave the small-minded among us something to do. It made me think of Grandma Glad, pursing her lips over the success of her Victory Garden, refusing to give away her cabbages.
I wanted to think of music, of dances, of falling in love and getting married before he got shipped overseas. And the songs —
I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
— all that longing, all that waiting. It made sense to me now. Every lyric. It wasn't about just hearing it on the radio. The strings were stretched and quivering and going crazy inside me.
If Peter and I had met during the war, would we have gotten engaged? Would things have moved faster? I knew girls who were pre-engaged at school. I used to laugh at their smugness. Now I wanted it. Time rushed at me like a subway, all air and heat. I was afraid one day we'd all pack up our cars and drive away, and I'd lose him.
"You ready in there?" Joe bellowed.
"I'll meet you downstairs! I'm not ready!"
"Aw, criminy, Evie. Do me a favor. Don't turn into your mother."
I could see it in his face. Peter saw me, really saw me, and so did Mrs. Grayson and so did Mom and so did Joe.
"You look like a dream," Peter said.
"Where did you get that dress?" Joe bellowed the words, and the lobby went silent.
Mrs. Grayson moved forward and took my arm. "I bought it for her. Doesn't she look stunning?"
"Beautiful," Peter said. "She's all grown up."
"No, she's not!" The sharpness in Mom's voice made everyone freeze.
Joe came forward. He took my other arm. "Go upstairs and put something decent on."
"Joe, she's perfectly decent —" Mrs. Grayson started.
"I'm her
father!”
Joe tugged me toward the elevator.
"She's almost sixteen," Mrs. Grayson said. But Mr. Grayson looked at her and she stopped talking.
Joe went on one side, Mom on the other. They steered me into the elevator and we went up to the room. I wanted to cry in great heaving gulps, in a way I hadn't cried in forever. But I didn't.
Mom went to my closet and got out my old best dress, the pink one with the lace on the collar. She unbuttoned the gown and got me out of it. She pulled the pink dress over my head.
"That's it," Joe said from the other room. "That's it, Evie. If you're sneaking around behind my back, it stops now."
Mom's fingers fumbled as she tried to zip up the dress.
"I won't have that man sniffing after my daughter!" Joe shouted. "Did you see the way he looked at her? Like a boy scout going for his merit badge in hound dog!"
Mom got the zipper up. She turned me around. She leaned forward and wiped my face with a wadded-up tissue. Which didn't make sense, because I wasn't crying. She was.
"It has to stop," she whispered. "Baby, it has to stop."
Joe's mood improved after three cocktails. At the restaurant he pounded Tom on the back and called him "buddy." His face was flushed red, and Mom started to
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