“Then why’d you mention Raging Bull?”
“I didn’t, you did!”
“I don’t get it.”
“Oh my goodness!” Maria exclaimed.
I was sort of playing with her, but I admit she
knew more about movies than me.
“I know you’re not a moron,” she said, as if she knew what I was feeling at that moment. “I’m just messin’ with you.”
What made Maria even smarter is that she wasn’t just one, but two grades behind me. A freshman. I thought that was weird, because she hung out with sophomores like Jeff’s sister. I asked her if she was left back a grade or two, and she said she didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it drop. Things were going so well, and I was so surprised that she’d told me so much already, that I didn’t want to ruin the momentum.
“You know something,” I said, “you’re beautiful.” I nudged her chin with my finger, the way my father used to nudge me when he called me Butch. Maria giggled.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said.
I was in heaven. I reached out and grabbed her hand. Both, actually. And we swung our arms, back and forth, in and out, joyfully like children.
I could tell at that moment that despite her tough exterior, Maria was a little girl inside, wishing for a best friend, and a boyfriend, or both. I loved it about her. She was like the male version of me! She was a sexy, cool, nice person with a heart.
“You’re a sexy, cool, nice person with a heart,” I said. I’ve never said that to anyone else, but I’m saying it to you. And you’re the most beautiful girl at this dance. I swear to God that’s true. You’re so fucking beautiful.” I don’t know why I cursed. I guess I was just so excited to be holding her, even if it was just her hands. But she didn’t mind. The tears rolling down my cheeks diverted her attention. They were tears of pure joy.
I looked into her doey eyes. “I want you to know something. I want you to know that, well, that you are a special person. You are a beautiful person. And I’m not just talking about your face. I’m talking about you. Maria. The person. “I want to be your friend so much. I want a person like you as my friend. It would be an honor.”
A tear rolled down Maria’s cheek. She seemed as happy as I was. “If you had the choice between staying home and curling up with your girlfriend—uh, me—to watch a good movie—she smiled coyly—would you do that, or would you go to a club or bar or whatever?”
“Go the bar—” I said. “…?…”
Maria looked at me intently.
Go to the bar—if it’s with you,” I said. “Or stay at home—if it’s with you.”
“Right answer!” She beamed.
Suddenly, our hands stopped swinging, and they met in the middle. Our bodies pressed together so that the only thing separating us was our clenched fists. It’s the only moment of my life when I felt I was choking on happiness. But it was a good feeling, one I wish I could have turned into an action. I felt that feeling because, deep down inside, I knew that I would never be that happy again.
Suddenly, blasting from within the gym, was the last song of the night. We knew it was the last song because the last song was always the slow one. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t the usual In Your Eyes, but a different, more familiar song. Love, love, love… love, love, love—those words echoed softly out the gym door, down the hallway, and engulfed me and Maria. Was it…? Could it be…? All You Need Is Love! Yes! I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, my contempt for dancing melted away. I asked Maria to dance with me. She said yes.
Moments later we were dancing close in the gym amidst a sea of couples. But none so genuine and pure as Maria and I. I didn’t want to let go of her. I never wanted to let go. Her taut breasts were pressed firmly against the center of my chest. I remember feeling her nipples—they were tight and perky and piercing my ribs. Best of all, we didn’t even have to dance. We just hugged… and swayed.
Caressing her cute little ass that night, I didn’t think of it sexually. I only recall appreciating it’s full, circular form. It was soft as a feather pillow, tight as a trampoline. And her perfume, oh, her perfume! I’d never noticed a girl’s perfume until that night. But Maria’s added to her beauty. I sensed the hint of a rose and the scent of an orange—it was sweet but raw, natural and pure. I inhaled it.
My forehead was damp, as was the rest of my body. I was nervous about it until I noticed that hers was, too. Sweat trickled off my brow. As it rolled off my face, it melded with Maria’s perspiration. My mouth was dry and closed, and I could smell the salty steam emanating from our bodies. It was always unbearably hot and humid on the dance floor, but I didn’t care that night. In fact, I loved it. The heat seemed to melt our bodies into one.
Had I died that night, right after the dance, my life would’ve been fulfilled and complete. I didn’t need anything else in the world. Christ, I wish I had died that night.
After the song ended, Maria and I walked upstairs to get our coats. I remember checking my hair in the blur of the chrome fire extinguisher as I walked by. Thinking of Rachel, I sort of chuckled to myself as I passed that fire extinguisher. Maria heard me and asked what was so funny. “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.” And then I felt as if that chapter of my life, or whatever the fuck it was—a crisis of adolescent stupidity and confusion, I suppose—was completely over with. I placed Maria’s coat on her shoulders and she smiled as if no boy had ever done that before. We remained silent. Occasionally, we’d gaze at one another, singing love songs with our eyes.
We strolled outside into the chilly air. Our bodies quickly cooled. Stream rose from our foreheads, and our mouths shot gusts of frozen air into the night. I grabbed Maria’s arm and pulled her toward me to help generate some warmth. My perception of the world was suddenly so clear. For the first time in my life, I blocked out the noise of the crowd and the traffic with ease. I didn’t see any hoods or freaks around me. Only Maria.
Only Maria.
We walked toward the curb where her father was waiting in his van. Kiss her, I thought. Kiss her!
I wanted to kiss her oh-so-badly, but I held back. There will be time, I thought, confidently. There will be time.
In lieu of a kiss, I whispered in her ear, casually, so her father couldn’t see, “I want to kiss you. But I won’t. I won’t kiss you until I break up with Lynn. I would never cheat on her no matter how bad things were going.” I wanted to let Maria know that I was seriously interested in her.
“What?” she said. “You’re crazy.” I don’t think she believed me. I was crazy for saying it, but for whatever reason that night my instincts led me down daring paths. When I think I about it I realize that that night represented the birth of a new me. To her, who the hell knew? Maybe she had no desire to ever see me again. Maybe she danced with me as, perish the thought—a friend.
“What I mean is…” I said, and I anxiously trailed off. “Listen, just go home now, and we’ll see each other again, okay?” I swear, I was about to say I love you, when she interrupted: “Promise?” Smiling and shivering and looking as though she’d give me one final hug if it weren’t for her father being so close by, she turned toward the van. “Promise,” I whispered.
And then—hocus pocus!—she was gone. That was it. The best night of my life had come to an end. Amongst hundreds of students and parents and teachers amassing as the dance let out, I stood there in the cold, alone once again.
New York City winters are brutal, but I didn’t move from that spot for at least ten minutes or so. Cemented to the pavement, I felt like an electric fan, spinning so quickly that I looked still to those around. You can’t avoid that feeling when you’re with a girl you love, just as you cannot avoid it when flying in a B-52, right over ’Nam, frightened as hell, fearless as a shark. I only wish my dad could have seen me that night. Hey, Dad! I yelled silently within. Look over here! I’m flying your plane, and I’m doing so well! I was so happy that I again almost cried.