The Class

“May I speak to Maria Pastore, please~” he asked nervously.

“Oh, she doesn’t live at home anymore —”

Danny’s heart sank. He was, as he had feared, too late.

“— But I could give you the number of her apartment. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Uh — it’s, uh —it’s Daniel Rossi.”

“Oh my,” she responded. “I knew the voice was familiar. We’ve been following your career with enormous admiration.”

“Thanks. Uh — is Maria well?”

“Yes. She’s teaching dance at a girls’ school and enjoys it very much. She’s there now.”

“Could you give me the address?” Danny interrupted.

“Certainly,” Mrs. Pastore replied, “but I’d be glad to pass on a message.”

“No, please. In fact, I’d be grateful if you didn’t say I called. I’d sort of like to … surprise her.”

-*-

“One-two-three-plie. Now fourth position, girls. Tuck in at the back, please.”

Maria was leading a ballet class of a dozen or so ten-year-olds at the Sherwood School for Girls. She was so involved that she barely perceived the studio door opening behind her. Yet something made her gaze into the mirror and see the reflection of a once-familiar figure.

She was astonished. Incredulous. But before turning around she had, enough presence to tell her charges, “Keep repeating those movements, girls. Laurie, you count the beats.”

She then about-faced and walked to greet her visitor.

“Hello, Danny.”

“Hello, Maria.”

They were both distinctly uneasy.

“Uh — are you in town for a concert? I must have missed it in the papers.”

“No, Maria, I flew out especially to see you.”

That stopped the conversation cold.

For several moments they stared at each other mutely while behind them ten-year-old Laurie counted cadence for the little dancers.

“Did you hear me, Maria?” Danny said softly.

“Yes. It’s just that I don’t know what to think. I mean, why after all this time — ?”

Rather than answer her question, Danny asked the more urgent one that had been burning in his brain during the entire flight to Cleveland.

“Has some lucky guy nabbed you yet, Maria?”

“Well, I’ve been sort of going with this architect …”

“Is it serious?”

“Well, he wants to marry me.”

“Do you ever think about me anymore?”

She paused and then replied, “Yes.”

“Well, that makes two of us. You’ve been on my mind.”

“When do you have the time, Danny?” she asked with gentle sarcasm. “Your love affairs are so public I can read about them at supermarket checkout counters without even buying the paper.”

“That’s somebody else. The real Danny Rossi is still in love with you. All he wants is a wife named Maria and lots of kids. Maybe half-a-dozen cute little dancers like those girls over there.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Why me?”

“Maria, it would take a hell of a long time to explain.”

“Could you give me a brief outline in twenty-five words or less?”

Danny knew that if he could not sway her now, he would never have another chance.

“Maria,” he said earnestly, “I know the last time you saw me I was drunk with applause. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t like it anymore. But I’ve realized it isn’t enough. My concerts may be packed, but my life is incredibly empty. Am I making any Sense?”

“You still haven’t answered my original question. Why me?”

“This is kind of hard to explain, but since I’ve become — I guess famous is the word — everybody I meet says they love me. And I don’t believe a goddamn word of it. The only person I ever came close to trusting was you. I know you understand that I put on my cocky little show because deep down I don’t think that anybody could really care.”

He paused and looked at her.

“That’s slightly more than twenty-five words,” she replied softly.

“How much do you believe?”

Her answer was barely audible because she was on the verge of tears.

“Everything,” she said.

***

Though he never told a soul, it was the only educational experience that Jason ever enjoyed more than Harvard. The twenty-one-week course at the Marine Basic School in Quantico, Virginia, offered instruction in such unacademic subjects as leadership, techniques of military instruction, map reading, infantry tactics, and weapons, as well as the history and traditions of the corps. In addition, there was first aid, combat intelligence, vertical development operations, tank and amphibious operations, and, his favorite of all, physical training and conditioning.

While the majority of the other college graduates were either fainting or groaning, or praying for it to end, Jason grew more elated with every pull-up, push-up, sit-up — and every mile he ran. He actually loved the obstacle course and spent some of his rare free moments trying to perfect his technique in negotiating it. His rifle became even more familiar to him than a tennis racket.

Though he had been far from an outstanding student in college, he was determined to finish number one in this class.

In the final week they took written examinations in military knowledge and skills, as well as practical tests in land navigation and techniques of military instruction. While Jason scored well in these, he was counting on the more sportslike contests to win him a gold medal.

He qualified with extremely high scores in rifle and pistol marksmanship, but was still outshot by half-a- dozen country boys who’d used firearms all their lives. Still, he led everyone in the physical-fitness tests. And that was some consolation for his overall finish in fifth place.

Second Lieutenant Jason Gilbert, USMC, took advantage of his first leave to write a long letter to Fanny explaining the reason for his silence. She answered briefly but warmly.

I was really surprised to hear from you. Maybe the Odyssey is not such a fairy tale after all.

Now it’s my turn to plead for your patience as I have my qualifying exams to study for. Afterward, when I’m working in a clinic, I’ll have time to write.

Love, F.

p.s. Did I mention that I miss you?

At Christmastime he deliberately wore his dress uniform (blue jacket, gold buttons rising to the neck, white hat) to make the maximum impression on his mom and dad.

Unfortunately, his impressively costumedarrival was upset by a more somber event.

When Jason made his grand entrance, he found his father, mother, and sister all sitting at the dining-room table. Julie was leaning forward, her head in her hands. The cries of baby Samantha were audible from another