“No, I can’t have you do that. But thank you. It’s just that it’s been months and months and months and months, and after all that waiting…”
“I understand. If Hank came back and I wasn’t allowed to see him, I’d have a fit! I can’t believe you’re so calm.”
Mother calls up, “May, are you on the telephone? Who are you talking to?”
“Gertie!”
“Oh.” She walks upstairs looking disappointed for me. “I’m going to bed. Your father is sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because, that’s why.”
“Can I stay on the telephone a moment longer?”
“Yes, but do try to keep your voice down.”
I watch her disappear into their bedroom and shut the door. “I think she banished him to the sofa!”
Gertie whispers back, “I heard! Is she really that sore for what he did?”
“Seems like it!”
“Yes, Papa! Oh May, I’m awful sorry but I have to go.”
“Thanks for taking the time to talk.”
“Goodnight! If you hear anything from him tomorrow, promise to call me?”
“As if I wouldn’t!”
We reluctantly hang up from opposite sides of Albany. Though it’s a small town, it sure feels like she’s worlds away.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sad.
Trudging to bed in my nightgown, I shut the door. Right now everything feels heavy, even these tucked-in blankets. So I fall on top, and ball myself up.
I truly had anticipated a phone call.
Sure, during those long months I often tried to prepare myself that perhaps his letters were merely the sign of a lonesome sailor searching for hope. I felt I was living in the clouds, and the fall would be awful long if I wasn’t careful. But I could never hold onto that idea. He seemed so genuine. And there were so very many letters.
Perhaps a call tomorrow.
But he said he would see me today.
He wanted to!
I know Father was upset.
He could’ve tried!
He just left.
How could he do that?
And not telephone me.
Hearing a knock, I groan, roll off the bed, and open my door expecting to see Mother checking on me again. She’s been worried, too, that my heart might break.
Nobody’s here?
That’s peculiar.
Poking my head into the hall I look both ways and realize that the knock sounded kind of funny. I look behind me and see Jerald’s handsome face in the window holding his finger to his mouth. I cover mine to keep from screaming in shock, blood racing. As quietly and quickly as possible, I shut the door and run over.
Unlatching the lock and swinging it open, I whisper, “What are you doing?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
His green eyes are troubled, whisper earnest, “I read your letters, May. I spent all day reading them. Did you mean it that you would marry me?”
“Yes!”
“Pack your things.”
“Where are we going?”
“To elope.”
I grab his face and kiss him. “Wait here!”
Dashing to my closet, I pause and realize that Jerald is hanging off the side of the house. Running back to him I ask, “Am I to climb out the window?”
“No way! It’s too dangerous.”
“Father is sleeping on the sofa downstairs!”
Jerald’s lips tighten as he searches for possible solutions. “Has he been asleep long?”
“I don’t know!”
“Here’s what you do. Pack up. Change into your pajamas. Pretend like you’re hungry and go to the kitchen. See if he’s awake. If he is, bide your time and do it again. Keep checking until you know for sure he’s out cold. Then tiptoe down the stairs with your suitcase. I’ll be waiting for you no matter how long it takes.”
I smile feeling like my lungs might bust, “Okay!”
He crawls down, and I stick my head out to watch. I never knew a drain pipe could make me so happy.
I own two suitcases. One is for family vacations or to visit my grandparents. For those trips I need to stock up. The other is much smaller for sleepovers at Sable’s house which we’ve had a lot of. It’s lighter so I choose that for sneaking out. In it, I throw my lavender shirtwaist dress, my Mary Jane heels, two pair of stockings without runs, and the blue taffeta dress I wore to the dance where I met Jerald. My bra and panties I tuck under everything, grab my hairbrush from the dresser, and toss that in, too.
Into the hall I walk, headed for the washroom as if it’s any other old night.
The house is awful quiet, and I try not to do anything funny. I’m sure I don’t usually brush my teeth this slow, but one can’t be too careful. Can’t raise suspicions by hurrying.
I hold the toothbrush against my side, walk out, and run smack into Mother.
Her hand flies over her heart. “May! You frightened me!”
“I’m sorry! Didn’t you see the light on under the door?”
“I suppose I’m half asleep. Just awoke from a nightmare and realized I hadn’t made use of the washroom before bed.”
Moving out of the way I nervously laugh, “It’s a good thing you didn’t! Otherwise you might still be having that nightmare. It woke you up! Having to go, I mean.”
“Yes,” she smiles, “I suppose it did.”
“Goodnight Mother!”
She yawns, “Goodnight.”
She didn’t see the toothbrush! Can’t imagine how I could’ve explained that. Shutting my door, I stare at the suitcase brazenly sprawled on my bed as if I put it there without a care in the world. Lucky for me her bedroom is in the other direction. If she’d walked past, all would be lost.
How long will she be in there?
I hear footsteps.
The click of her bedroom door.
Don’t be a goose!
Move!
Avoiding all the floorboards that I know for a fact creak, I wrap my toothbrush in a clean scarf. This will have to do.
Steeling myself, I hold the doorknob, take two silent but very deep breaths, and turn it.
I’m simply grabbing a small snack from the kitchen, that’s all I’m doing.
Perhaps I’m thirsty, and need something to remove the parch.
Perfectly normal!
Downstairs I catch sight of Father sprawled on our sofa.
I’m just walking to the kitchen like a normal daughter who would never sneak out and marry
