“Nobody said one word tonight about Shannon and her cello,” my mother said. There were tears in her eyes. “As long as that girl’s been able to speak, all she’s ever cared about was music. And tonight it was like that part of her didn’t exist.” She pointed toward the door through which Shannon and Tanner had made their exit. “That boy cares about himself and his own…his Nazi children, or whatever they are,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “I bet he’s never even asked to hear her play.”
Lucy tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but our mother brushed it away.
“I’m tired, Lucy,” she said. “I’m going to take a nap. Then maybe later you could drive me home.”
“Of course,” Lucy said, dropping her arm to her side.
Ethan came to stand next to me, and we watched my mother disappear down the hallway.
“Whoa,” Lucy said. “What’s with her?”
I remembered Shannon as a little girl. She didn’t want to listen to the funny little songs that other kids found entertaining. “I wanna hear YoMaMa!” she’d say, cracking Glen and me up.
“She’s right,” I said. “No one said a word.”
CHAPTER 35
Date Rape.
I knew many people my age ridiculed that term, believing it was a way of pinning the rap on a boy when a girl later had regrets, but I embraced the concept, because it eased my guilt about what happened toward the end of the summer of 1944.
That was the first summer that Charles spent his weekdays in our new home in Westfield while I remained at the bungalow with my parents. Charles was doing his residency at a veterans’ hospital, choosing it over pediatrics because he was passionate about continuing to serve his country in whatever way he could. The war permeated every aspect of our lives, from the constant newscasts on the radio to the rationing that affected our food and our gasoline and nearly everything else we needed to exist.
I’d considered staying in Westfield with Charles, only going to the bungalow during the weekends as he did, but he insisted there was no point in my staying in the heat of the suburbs when he would be able to spend so little time with me there. His hours were long and grueling, but he loved what he was doing and the contribution he was making. I was very proud of him, yet I missed him during the week. I missed sleeping next to his warm body and our long, happy conversations about the future. We’d talk about the children we would have and all the things we wanted to be able to provide for them. And we made love, though not as much as I would have liked. I knew he was tired, but I often wondered if I simply had a stronger sex drive than most women. My friends and I never talked about that sort of thing, so I was not sure if I was normal.
My parents had developed a thriving social life as more people who were tolerant of my mother’s heritage moved to Bay Head Shores, so they were often out having fun, and my old girlfriends were either working or busy with new babies. Many of their husbands were enlisted men, some of them fighting in Europe. I knew I was lucky that
One weekday night when my parents were out, I was on the porch reading
I watched him smoke for the longest time, my book forgotten. I imagined how his mouth would taste—like wood and leather—and then, as if on automatic pilot, I stood up from the rocker and walked outside. I let the screen door slam behind me so he would not be surprised when I appeared in my own yard.
I walked toward the canal and sat down on the bulkhead, bending my legs and wrapping my arms around them. The water was as smooth as gelatin, and the reflection of the nearly full moon was a brilliant white disk floating on its surface. I was perhaps four yards away from Ross, and although he had put out the cigar, the scent of it was still strong in the air.
“Beautiful night,” I said, turning to look at him. I could see him more clearly than I’d expected, the moon was so bright. His eyes were on me, his hand rubbing his jaw lightly as if he were deep in thought.
“It is,” he agreed.
“How come you’re able to be here during the workweek?” I asked.
“I took the summer off from law school to be with Joan and the baby,” he said.
I turned to look back at their darkened bungalow. “Where are they tonight?”
“Joan has some friends in Brielle,” he said. “She took Ned over there for a visit.”
“Ah,” I said. He, too, was alone.
“I imagine it’s hard not having Charles here during the week,” Ross said.
“Yes,” I said. “But it could be worse. He could be overseas.” I thought of how, without Charles at the bungalow, I felt like the single girl I used to be, ready to go to Jenkinson’s at night with my gang of friends or to the movies with a date.
Ross stood up and stretched, and for a moment, I feared he was going to go into his house. But he walked toward me and my head felt light as he sat down next to me, letting his legs hang over the bulkhead.
“I’m glad you found someone like Charles, Maria,” he said. “His politics are screwy, but he’ll be able to lift you up. Your social status, I mean. The wife of a doctor.”
“That was not why I married him,” I said.
“No, of course not,” Ross said. “But that’s a nice bonus for you.”
“I really don’t care about that sort of ‘bonus,’” I said.
He smiled. “You’re still a feisty one, aren’t you.” He lifted his hand to my chin, turning my head toward him. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “Not just…you know, the physical part of our relationship. I’ve missed
