Читать книгу Christmas Presents and Past - Janice Johnson Kay - Страница 5

1968

The cough and choke of Will O’Keefe’s 1952 Chevy brought Dinah racing to the front window. This was the second time he’d picked her up, but their first real date. The other time they’d been going to that jam session at Miguel’s and Will had just been a ride—although it hadn’t turned out that way, since they’d stuck together the whole night as if it was a given.

By the time she peeked around the drape, he’d slammed the car door and started up her steep driveway. That’s when dismay punched her in the chest. In his hands was a gaily wrapped Christmas present with a bright red bow atop. It had to be for her!

But they’d only met two weeks before, at Terri’s party. They’d talked there for hours, and then again at Miguel’s. But that didn’t really count, did it? They weren’t going together or anything, so why had he bought her a Christmas present?

Her mind raced. Had she bought anything for her brother or father that she could pretend was for Will? But neither present was right. The album she was giving Stephen maybe, but she had no idea whether Will liked Country Joe and the Fish, and anyway…She didn’t have enough money left to buy Stephen something else before Christmas! If only she’d thought to bake cookies, or make fudge, and had some saved for him. Since it was almost Christmas.

The doorbell rang. She was out of time.

Dinah took a deep breath and opened the door. “Hi,” she said brightly, then looked at the gift as if she hadn’t already seen it. “Oh, no! I didn’t get you anything.”

“Why would you? We just met.” He offered her the smile that had made her heart skip a beat when Terri introduced them. It was genuine, even sweet, not marred by pretence or self-consciousness.

Will O’Keefe wasn’t exactly handsome. He was only a few inches taller than her five foot seven, maybe five-ten. He was actually pretty skinny, although he had big hands and feet that gave him a puppy-dog look. And his face was, well, the kind her eye skipped over in a crowd. Just ordinary.

It was definitely the smile that had gotten to her. The smile, and his eyes, an amazing shade of blue, all the more unusual with his dark hair.

“Then why…” she asked, gesturing at the gift in his hand.

“Why?” He looked down. “Oh. I got stuck with my Mom the other day while she was Christmas shopping. And I saw this, and thought of you.” He thrust the package at her as if to get rid of it. “It’s no big deal. It was probably a dumb idea. I just thought…” His shoulders moved in an awkward shrug.

She glanced at the Christmas tree near the front window and the gifts piled beneath it. “Should I save it? Or, um, open it now?”

“Now,” he said. “Since I’m here. Unless you want to save it.”

“No. Now’s fine. Do you want to sit down?”

“Sure.” He shut the front door behind him and chose a place on the Danish modern sofa with the olive-green upholstery fabric that made Dinah’s legs itch if she was wearing shorts.

She perched at the other end of the sofa, turned to half face him, glad no one else was home. Her mother would have raised her eyebrows at some boy she’d never met buying her daughter a present, her dad would have nodded in approval because Will’s hair was short and Stephen would have given her a hard time about going out with a guy who looked so square. He wouldn’t believe her when she said Will wasn’t, that he’d cut his hair so he could be on the wrestling team at his high school. According to Will, his coach was like this Nazi, who practically measured every strand of hair to make sure his wrestlers looked like these perfect, all-American boys.

Dinah hesitated. Will smiled encouragement and she tore the paper to find a plain box inside. He looked nervous, she saw out of the corner of her eye. He really wanted her to like whatever he’d bought. She opened the box and stared in puzzlement at folded white canvas, like that of a sail.

“I had to wad it up to get it in,” he apologized.

Dinah lifted it out, then breathed, “Ohh,” as she saw what he’d bought because it made him think of her.

An apron. A chef’s apron. A real one, the kind professionals wore, extra wide so it would wrap around her and long enough to reach her knees.

“When I picked you up Saturday you were wearing that little flowery apron.” Will gestured at his front. “And after you’d told me how much you love to cook, and how you’d like to be a chef or caterer, I thought you should look like one instead of wearing your mom’s apron.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You believed me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“My parents don’t. They want me to go to college, not culinary school.” She hugged the apron to herself and sniffed. “Thank you. I love it.”

“Really?” With hopeful eyes, he looked more than ever like a puppy.

“Really.” She scooted across the sofa and kissed his cheek.

Because he was a guy, he turned his head and found her mouth with his. Not for the first time. He’d kissed her Saturday night, before he dropped her off just in time for her 1:00 a.m. weekend curfew. But that kiss was like any first one, with Dinah, at least, worrying about what he’d think if she touched her tongue to his, or if she wrapped her arm around his neck or shifted more to face him. It was funny, because Dinah had spent all evening—while they sat side by side on the floor in the hall at Miguel’s—thinking about how much she wanted him to kiss her. And she’d looked at his hands, splayed on his thighs, and wondered how they would feel touching her. But when he did bend his head to kiss her…Well, she’d had the panicky feeling that it was coming too soon. She wanted to keep wondering. She knew she was going to be really disappointed if he grabbed her breasts and reached for her zipper while mumbling in her ear, like Toby had when she let him kiss her at a party, that “sex is natural, man.” When she’d pulled away from Toby, he’d asked her with genuine puzzlement, “Why are you so hung up?” Maybe she was, but she didn’t want some guy pushing inside her when she hardly even knew him. And she hated the idea that Will might be like that, just assuming. But he hadn’t assumed anything. That first kiss had been so self-conscious and brief, she’d worried instead that he was turned off and didn’t care if he touched her breasts or not.

But now he’d bought her a Christmas present that told her he’d listened to her and that he liked her. And he was kissing her again, and this time wasn’t nearly as awkward. Their shoulders brushed, and their thighs, but otherwise their mouths were the only connection. The kiss went from gentle to passionate and back again, and by the time he moved his face back an inch or two and they smiled foolishly at each other, Dinah felt incandescent, as if a candle had been lit within her and the light glowed through the translucent layers of her body.

Just like that, she was ready to give up her virginity. She was the last holdout of all her friends. In fact, she might be the last virgin in the junior class at Half Moon Bay High School. Or maybe at the whole high school. She did have hang-ups. But finally, she knew what they were. She’d been waiting. Not for the right time, but for the right guy.

“Hey,” Will said. “We’d better get going. We’ll be late for the movie.”

It took her a moment to remember what their plans for the evening had been. “Oh. Right. This was such a cool present. Thanks.” She kissed his cheek again, then jumped up, took the apron to her bedroom and grabbed her purse. She paused to brush her hair again, checking herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of her door.

She wore men’s shrink-to-fit Levi’s, a Mexican peasant shirt embroidered down the front, sandals and big gold hoops in her ears. Her strawberry-blond hair hung straight and smooth from a center part, reaching to the middle of her back. She looked hip enough not to stand out in the Haight-Ashbury, except she was cleaner than she would be if she was sharing an apartment with ten other people. Dinah had gone to places like that with friends and seen how one big group lived on practically nothing but still somehow had hashish to fill a bong. It seemed like they were passing one around anytime several of them were home, sitting cross-legged in the living room on the mattresses that substituted for furniture. The bedding was always disheveled and grungy. She’d felt uncomfortable and passed the bong on without doing more than pretending to take a draw. She didn’t actually like being stoned. And, despite being antiwar and in favor of loving everyone, some part of her was too materialistic to want to live that way. No, too establishment. If she ever had a boyfriend she really loved, she wouldn’t share him. And she hated being dirty. So maybe she was a pretender, a traitor to her generation.

But Will seemed to like her, didn’t he? He straddled two worlds, too. He told her he’d also gone to antiwar demonstrations, and they’d seen some of the same concerts at the Fillmore Auditorium and Winterland. Only, he was a really good student, and he cared enough about making state in wrestling to cut his hair.

They saw the movie Bullitt, a police drama with Steve McQueen that was really good. Afterward, they stopped for a burger and fries, and talked about the movie and eventually the war and their parents. Will wouldn’t be graduating in June with his class; he’d gotten meningitis when he was a freshman and had been really sick, so he was enough credits short he had to go half-time first semester the next year.

“What a drag!” She couldn’t imagine having to go back after all your friends had tossed their graduation caps in the air and were gone to college and jobs.

“Yeah,” Will said, sounding gloomy, “but the thing is, I don’t know what I’m going to do after graduation anyway. I guess I’ll apply at San Francisco State,” he said, swirling ketchup on his plate with a French fry. “Or I could go to Skyline.”

He was from Pacifica, which was close to Skyline Junior College, so he could easily live at home and take classes there. Dinah lived in El Granada, half an hour farther south along the ocean from San Francisco. If she were going into the city, she’d drive right through Pacifica.

“You don’t sound like that’s what you want to do,” she said, resting her elbows on the table.

“You can tell, huh? The thing is, I like to build.” His face lit with enthusiasm. “I thought about going for a degree in architecture, but I’m not very good at art. I can see what I want to do with wood, but I can’t put it down on paper. Anyway, design, that’s not the same thing as actually building something with your own hands.”

Dinah nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. She did enjoy creating new dishes, but mostly what she loved was the act of cooking. Reading a cookbook wasn’t the same as appreciating the textures of everything from flour, which was puffy and lighter than air, to ginger root, which could be tough, filled with threads and yet bursting with moist sweetness. She found satisfaction in perfecting the techniques to draw out the most flavor, the precision of measurements, the exhilaration when a flash of creativity proved to be genius instead of a gigantic, mouth-puckering mistake and, in the end, from the beauty of the food arranged on the plate. She liked to touch, to mold, to roll out pastry, to chop and stir. Will just liked doing the same things with wood and tile and drywall.

“My parents keep telling me I’m too smart to be a carpenter,” he continued, his expression brooding. “And then there’s the draft.”

“But you don’t have to worry yet, do you?”

He grimaced. “I’ll be nineteen in August. I started kindergarten a year late.”

“Oh.” The realization stole Dinah’s breath. A couple of boys who’d gone to her high school had died in Vietnam. She’d known one. Not well, but enough to be shocked when she heard. Donald had played football, and a girl who’d been in Dinah’s geometry class had gone to the prom with him. He was drafted, sent overseas and killed six weeks later. Dinah was already worrying about her brother. “It’s awful!” she burst out. “What would you be fighting for, anyway?”

“That’s why they have to hold a draft. No one wants to enlist anymore.”

The awful thing with the draft was its unpredictability. How did young men plan their future when they could get drafted anytime? A student deferment was about the only protection, and that was temporary. Everybody knew now how awful it was in Vietnam. Every night, the news was filled with gruesome images. The Tet Offensive had been heavily covered by reporters and cameramen. Supposedly Nixon, just elected, had a plan for ending the war, but nobody under thirty believed that. And now Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy had both been assassinated, silencing their voices. Dinah sometimes felt as if there was no hope.

Now, feeling desperate, Dinah said, “But if you go to college, you’ll be safe.”

Will pushed his plate aside. “Now you sound like my mother.”

It went against the grain, but Dinah stuck to her guns. “Maybe she’s right. If you get drafted, you could die. For something you don’t even believe in.”

“Yeah, but what if the war goes on and on? Being stuck in college…” His face showed his struggle to find the right words. “It would be like treading water. I wouldn’t be going anywhere!”

“At least you’d be alive,” she said passionately.

“I might not get a low draft number.”

“But what if you do?”

“I don’t know!” he almost shouted.

Dinah bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I guess I do sound like your parents. It’s just because the idea scares me.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I know. It scares me, too. But it makes me mad that I should have to spend years more in school because of Nixon, even though it’s a waste of time for me.”

She nodded. It didn’t make sense. There must be tens of thousands of guys taking college classes they didn’t even care about, just to keep from having to go to Vietnam. And that was horribly unfair to the ones who couldn’t get into college and win a deferment.

“None of it’s fair,” she said.

He squeezed her hand. “Let’s not worry about it right now. I don’t even have to apply to college until fall. That’s a long time away. The war might be over by then.”

She nodded. “If Nixon starts withdrawing troops, the way he’s talked about, they might not need to keep on with the draft anyway.”

“Right. So let’s forget it.” Will grinned at her. “You want to split a hot-fudge sundae?”

While they were eating it, laughing when their heads bumped as they dueled with plastic spoons for luscious drips of chocolate, Dinah thought of all the things her mother was afraid she did whenever she was out at night. Mom lay awake worrying that she was smoking pot, at least, if not dropping acid or having wild sex. Here she was instead, eating a hot-fudge sundae with a boy who hadn’t even had a drink. How innocent could it get?

Their relationship stayed innocent for a couple of months. Will always drew back when their making out got too hot and heavy, as if…She didn’t know why! Did he think she wasn’t ready? Just because she’d stiffened a couple of times when his hand touched her waistband? She was a virgin! But even though Dinah was nervous, she wanted him to unbutton her jeans and slip his hand inside her panties anyway. She just didn’t know how to tell him.

The night Dinah started lying to her two best friends about her sexual experiences—or, actually, the lack of them—the three girls were having a sleepover at her house. The family room was downstairs from the bedrooms, so they had complete privacy. Christina had run ahead and claimed the sofa, so now she was queening it over Dinah and Susan, who sat on the floor where they’d spread their sleeping bags.

“So, what did you and Will do last night?” Susan asked.

“His parents weren’t home, so we just hung out.” She hadn’t planned to lie, but when she blushed at the remembrance of what she and Will had done, they both got wide-eyed.

“You finally did it?” Christina crowed.

She was too embarrassed to say no. So she nodded, and they both cheered.

“Far out. It’s about time!” Christina exclaimed. A curvy brunette, she’d always been ahead of the other two. She had her first boyfriend when she was thirteen, and lost her virginity when she was fifteen. She always got this rosy glow when she talked about sex. Dinah could tell she really liked doing it.

“You know, we only started going out two months ago,” she argued, knowing it was futile.

Susan, who’d lost her virginity on her sixteenth birthday, gave Dinah a look. “Two months is forever.”

Christina’s eyes widened. “He wasn’t a virgin, was he?”

“Of course not!” Dinah disclaimed, although she started to wonder. He was a really good kisser, but that would explain why he might be shy about going further, too. “Thank goodness. One of us had to know what to do.”

Her closest friend from the time they were in the same kindergarten class, Christina gave her an evil grin. “Haven’t we given you adequate instructions?”

They had, although secondhand descriptions of sex didn’t make it sound very appealing. Which might be one reason, Dinah thought privately, she hadn’t been in any hurry to try it.

The other reason being guys like Toby, who thought sticking his tongue in a girl’s mouth was enough preamble to sticking his dick into her, too. Forget romance or anything approaching tenderness.

Susan moaned, “Wow, bummer! If you’d waited just a few weeks, you could have done it for the first time on your birthday, too. That would have been cool, having something like that in common.”

Her birthday would be perfect, Dinah thought. One of the things she’d wondered was whether Will thought she was too young, but on her birthday she was turning seventeen, and he was still eighteen for a few more months. Officially, only one year older than her until summer.

Immediately scheming, she realized she would never be able to tell her best friends when she did finally have sex with Will, now that she’d lied. No, maybe someday she could, when they were old, like maybe thirty, and still best friends and could laugh about her being totally humiliated to still be a virgin when she was ready to turn seventeen.

Her birthday was on Thursday, but her party was planned for Friday night. Thursday would be for family, and for Will.

Mom invited Will to dinner—by this time, he practically was family—and he was there when Dinah blew out seventeen candles on her cake. Then she opened her presents. Mom and Dad gave her a shirt that was actually okay, and a promise that Mom would take her shopping for a dress to wear to Will’s senior prom.

Stephen was disgusted. “I can’t believe you’re going to the prom. Nobody goes but the cheerleaders and jocks.”

Will didn’t act insulted. “I guess I’m a jock.”

Dinah stuck out her tongue at her brother. “It’ll be fun. You’re just skipping yours because nobody’ll go with you.”

Stephen was a senior at Half Moon Bay High School. It was a little bit irritating, following him through school. Teachers always remembered Stephen, because he had a big mouth. Fortunately, after a couple of weeks they’d forget she was Stephen Gallagher’s little sister, because she was an A student and always good. Nauseatingly good, according to him.

He gave her the new Grateful Dead album she’d been wanting. Will’s present was a paring knife, which brought puzzled looks from her family.

“Will knows I like to cook,” she said. “Chefs have their own sets.”

“Oh.” Her mother smiled. “How thoughtful.”

Her father scowled. Of course, he wouldn’t approve of anyone “encouraging” her in such an unsuitable ambition.

Stephen, of course, looked disgusted. He probably thought Will should have given her some really high-quality LSD, right in front of Mom and Dad.

“Smothers Brothers is on,” Mom said. “If you two would like to watch with us.”

But they were okay with it when Dinah said they thought they’d go out. “I did my algebra problems right after school,” she said, anticipating any objections.

Once they were in Will’s car, she suggested they just go to his house. “Your parents will be bowling, right?”

“Yeah, they won’t be home until nine.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “We can do anything we want.”

She wriggled over to snuggle against him. “I know what I want to do.”

They kissed, right there in front of her house even though it wasn’t dark yet. Then Will drove faster than usual, slowing down only along Devil’s Slide, the stretch between Montara and Pacifica where Highway 101 had been carved out of a cliff high above the ocean. The sharpest curves always scared Dinah. The guardrail wouldn’t keep a car from plunging over the cliff and onto the rocks where the surf crashed dizzyingly far below.

Will lived in a development where all the houses looked alike, stucco-sided and two stories on small lots mostly landscaped with palm trees, red or shiny white gravel and swaths of ice plant in bloom. Will’s mother had planted bougainvillea in their yard that climbed up to the second-story balcony and smothered the railing with purple flowers. Without that vine, if Will had parked in the driveway of the houses on either side, Dinah would have headed for the front door without noticing they were at the wrong place.

They left his bedroom door ajar so they could hear in case his parents came home early for some reason. Will flopped on the bed and drew her down atop him. They made out, his hands roving up and down her back and even squeezing her butt. But the moment came, as it always did, when he turned his mouth from hers and rolled to one side, so she no longer lay astride him.

“Um, maybe we should…”

She took a deep breath for courage. “Why do you always stop?”

He froze for what had to be ten seconds. Then, voice hoarse, he said, “You don’t want me to?”

Suddenly shy, Dinah shook her head, her hair falling over her face to shield the heat in her cheeks. “Not anymore,” she whispered.

His hand on her upper arm tightened. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I am seventeen now.”

“Yeah. Wow.” He sounded dazed. “Have you ever…you know?”

She shook her head again and buried her face against his shoulder. “Have you?”

“Um…yeah. A few times.”

He still hadn’t made a move. Dinah mumbled, “If you don’t want to right now, that’s okay. I mean, I just thought I’d tell you…”

“Not want to? Are you kidding?” He rolled abruptly so that, this time, his upper body pinned her down and she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “I just thought…I mean, you seemed shy. I didn’t want to, like, scare you away.” He tucked her hair behind her ears, his fingers lingering. “I have some condoms down in my car. In the glove compartment. Will you wait here?”

Emboldened, she lifted her head and kissed his jaw. “I’m on the pill.”

“Really?”

“After I met you, I started complaining every month about my cramps. So Mom was okay with it.”

Will was still laughing when his mouth claimed hers. Almost immediately he began to tug at her clothes. She tried to help, and they whacked their noses against each other, both of them laughing again even though they had tears in their eyes, too.

Then he spotted his bedside clock and exclaimed, “Damn! We need to kind of hurry. It’s not that long until my parents get home.”

So they did, shedding clothes and eyeing each other shyly but with rapt interest, kissing deeply, Will thrusting his thickened penis against her. Even after she parted her legs, it took some fumbling on his part to find her opening.

When he pushed, Dinah felt first pressure, then pain. When she stiffened, he went still.

“Are you okay?” He was breathless.

She managed a nod, although her teeth were clenched.

“Because I can stop.”

“Do you want to?”

“No!”

“Then…then just do it!”

So he did, and she felt as if her innards were being ripped open. She panted while he pumped a couple of times, then jerked and collapsed on her. Even when his penis shrank and slipped out of her, she kept hurting.

Wounded and indignant, she thought, Why didn’t anybody tell me it was so bad the first time? Christina and Susan had giggled about losing their virginity! And “J,” the author of The Sensuous Woman—which they’d all passed around and Dinah, at least, had read with a flashlight under the bedcovers so her mother wouldn’t see the book—didn’t say anything about how you had to just lie there rigid the first time and hope sex wasn’t always like that. Because if it was, who’d want to do it again?

“I’m sorry,” Will said. “I didn’t know it would be so hard to push through your, um…”

“What?” she snapped. “Or you wouldn’t have done it?” She rolled away to hide her tears.

He was quiet for a minute. Then, voice low, he said, “I wanted you so much. But maybe you weren’t ready.”

“I was!” she cried, turning back to him, her face wet. “I just didn’t know it would hurt so much!”

His eyes were a rich, dark blue, and so kind she cried harder. “It’s not supposed to hurt ever again.” Then he said, “Oh, crap!” and jackknifed to a sitting position.

Dinah heard it, too, the sound of the garage door being opened. “Oh, God, I’m a mess!”

She jumped up, grabbed her clothes and raced down the hall for the bathroom. There she cleaned herself up, got dressed and washed her face over and over. While using a brush she found in a drawer to smooth her hair, she stared at herself in the mirror in despair. Her face was still blotchy, her nose red and her eyes puffy. But she couldn’t stay in here forever!

Finally she just walked out. Will was already in the living room, talking to his parents like nothing was any different. Glancing over his shoulder at her as she came down the hall, he said, “I’d better take Dinah home.”

At the sight of him, lanky and reassuring and, oh, just Will, her eyes welled with tears again.

“I’m sorry,” she said to his mom and dad. Inspiration came to her. “I just…I heard this guy I knew in school was hurt really badly in Vietnam. And I was telling Will, and…” She fled back to the bathroom for a tissue.

When she came back out, they were really nice. That made her feel guilty for lying to them, so she cried again once she and Will were in his car driving away from the house.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” She mopped her tears.

“Do you wish we hadn’t made love?”

“No! That’s not it.”

But it was why she couldn’t seem to stop crying, Dinah realized. She had this huge iron cauldron of emotions bubbling inside her, and it was hard to separate one from another. She closed her eyes and imagined herself cooking a stew, skimming one emotion after another from the top. Disillusionment, because the experience had been pretty awful. And mixed in like pepper, stinging, was some fear that it had been such a comedown for Will, he wouldn’t want to be with her anymore.

In her mind, she kept skimming, trying to identify fleeting whiffs of emotion. Despite the tears, she felt exhilaration because she’d done it and she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Guilt because she had to hide the fact that she was a woman from her mother, who was living in the fifties or maybe even the forties and really, really thought her daughter might wait until her wedding night. And sadness, because Dinah couldn’t talk to anyone, not her mom and not her two best friends. She felt grief, too, as if she’d lost something meaningful although she didn’t know what that was.

“I’m a mess,” she said aloud.

Will took his hand off the steering wheel to clasp hers. “Yeah, but I love you anyway.”

“Do you?” She searched his face. “I mean, really? You’re not disappointed in me?”

He gave her a smile of such sweetness, it pierced her heart. “That’s insane! Why would I be disappointed? You chose me to be the first guy ever. That’s, like, the most amazing gift.”

“Oh.” Something eased inside. “Next time will be different.”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “You’ll see.”

She pictured his body, even skinnier than he looked in clothes, but also the jut of his erection, not skinny at all, and actually felt a buttery-soft melting low in her belly.

He pulled up in front of her house. She scooted over, kissed him quickly and whispered, “I can hardly wait to find out,” then jumped from the car, slammed the door and raced up her driveway.