“Amanda, could you hold it a minute?” he shouted, and then lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello. Mr. Bridges?”
“Yes.”
“This is Agnes. May I speak to Kate, please?”
“Just a minute, Agnes. I think she’s still sleeping.” He cupped the mouthpiece and shouted, “Kate? You up?”
“Who is it, Dad?” Kate called from upstairs.
“It’s Aggie.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He waited until he heard Kate pick up the extension. He put the receiver back into its cradle and went back to reading his newspaper. Beverly dozed at his feet, basking in the sunshine. He had finished a cursory reading of the book section when he heard Kate coming down the steps and going into the kitchen. He put down his newspaper, belted his robe, walked past the living room where Amanda had begun playing again, and then directly into the kitchen. Beverly padded along behind him, sniffing at his bare feet.
“Morning, Kate,” he said.
“Morning, Dad.”
She was wearing a robe-over her pajamas. Her hair was tousled, and there was still a sleepy look on her face. She opened the refrigerator, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and then said, “Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes. But I’ll have another cup of coffee with you.”
“Okay,” Kate said listlessly. She poured coffee into two cups, and then sat opposite him at the table. “That was Agnes,” she said.
“Yes, I know.” Matthew put sugar into his coffee, added a drop of cream, and then stirred it.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad.”
“What’s the matter? Trouble?”
He could remember when she was a little girl. He could remember sitting at this very table with her, explaining the use of a skate key. He lifted his cup. With his dangling free hand, he idly stroked Beverly’s head where she lay by his chair.
“We’re going to the dance at the church tonight,” Kate said. “Paul Marris is taking me.”
“Mmm?”
“He’s going into the air force, Dad. He graduated high school last term, you know, and he’s enlisted, and he expects to be called by the end of the month.” Kate paused. “He’ll be gone for four years.” She swallowed a hasty gulp of hot coffee. “Do you have a cigarette, Dad?”
Matthew felt in the pockets of his robe, handed her the package, and then lighted one for her.
“Thanks,” she said. She blew out a stream of smoke and picked up her coffee cup again. “He’s going to ask me to go steady, Dad,” she said.
“Paul is?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Agnes told me. He’s discussed it with Ralph, his friend. He’s going to ask me to wait for him.” She paused. “He’ll be gone for four years, Dad.”
“I see.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
The table was silent. A car passed by outside, and Beverly leaped to her feet and began barking.
“Shhh, shhh,” Matthew said, and the dog growled once as an afterthought, and then collapsed at his feet again. In the living room, Amanda kept striking the same chord repeatedly as she transcribed it to the manuscript paper. “Well, do you like him, Kate?”
“Yes, I do, Daddy.”
“Well, I think...” He hesitated. He suddenly felt inadequate. “I think you should ask yourself whether or not, well... if he wants you to wait for him, Kate, this would indicate he’s pretty serious, wouldn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t be like getting engaged or anything, Dad.”
“I understand that.”
“But I couldn’t go out with anyone else, either. I’d be his girl.”
“Yes, I know.” Matthew paused again. “Well, he’s a very nice boy, Kate.”
“Yes, he is, Dad. Not at all hoody like some of the other boys around. But...” She shrugged. She picked up her coffee cup and stared into it, and then swallowed another gulp.
“Kate, maybe you’re a little young to be tying yourself down to someone. You’ll be getting out of school this summer, you’ll probably want to make plans for college, you—”
“Yes, I know, Dad. The only thing is, you see, I wouldn’t want to hurt Paul. I think he might be very embarrassed if he asked me to wait for him and I said no. You see, I do like him, and he is awfully nice, and I’m very flattered and all, but... well, I wouldn’t want to hurt him, especially when he’s going away to the air force. Because I like him, Dad.”
“I think it takes a little more than that, Kate. I think you should consider whether there’s more than just liking him.”
“Well, I like him a lot, Dad. But then...” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Mrs. Regan asked me if I’d like to go with her this summer, you know, when she goes to Italy, and—”
“I didn’t know that,” Matthew said.
“Yes. So there’s that to consider, too. I was going to ask you, Dad,” she said hastily. “I wouldn’t just accept without...”
“I know you wouldn’t. But I don’t see how the trip would affect—”
“Being away and all, I mean. And suppose I go to college in the fall... well, I don’t know what to do, Dad. Actually, I may not even go to college.”
“That’s up to you.”
“But I still don’t want to hurt Paul before he goes away.”
“Kate, do you love him?” Matthew asked flatly.
“No.” She paused. She looked into her empty coffee cup. “I love someone else.”
“Then that settles it, doesn’t it? It has nothing to do with the air force or the trip or college or anything but the fact that you love someone else.”
“Well, this other person doesn’t even know I exist, Dad.”
Matthew smiled. “How can anyone not know you exist, Kate?”
“Oh, it’s possible, all right,” she said. She smiled wanly, got up, and walked to the stove. “Would you like more coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
She returned to the table, poured herself a fresh cupful, put the pot back on the stove, and said, “Believe me, Dad, it’s possible,” and the kitchen went silent.
“Kate...” he said, and he paused. Go on, he thought, be the father. Make the father speech. He felt very clumsy all at once. “Kate, you’re a young girl,” he said. That’s a wonderful beginning, he thought. Always start with the obvious, especially when your daughter is someone as bright as Kate. “You’re a young girl and...” He groped for words. Amanda should be doing this, he thought, and then he saw that Kate was watching him, and listening to him intently, and he realized that he’d made the mistake again of thinking she was truly adult, of assuming she already knew what he was about to say. But she didn’t. She was a young girl, and this was all new to her, and she wouldn’t have begun discussing it if she hadn’t hoped for assistance. He suddenly thought of the skate key again, holding the skate and showing her how the key worked.
“Kate,” he said, “the important thing to think of is...” In a split second, he thought, No, don’t tell her that, don’t tell her to hurt this boy, don’t tell her to think only of herself, and he remembered when he was eighteen and he thought of a girl named Helen Kennedy and he wondered suddenly what Paul Marris had done to his daughter Kate. But very carefully, and all in the space of several seconds, he phrased what he was about to say, almost as if he were summing up a case for the jury, but this time he was only summing up a life, so how do you sum up life in a Connecticut kitchen on a sunny Sunday morning to a troubled girl of seventeen, how do you do that? It was so easy with the skate key, he thought, Jesus, it was so easy. How do things get so complicated?
“Kate,” he said, “I like Paul, he’s a nice boy. I’m glad you’ve been going out with him. I think Mother likes him, too. I think he’s sensible and levelheaded and nice-looking, but none of this matters a damn if you don’t love him, because there are a lot of nice-looking, sensible, levelheaded people in this world, and you’re going to meet a great many of them and, Kate, you can like them all, but that isn’t love, and if you loved Paul, you wouldn’t have to think about it twice, you’d know exactly what you wanted to do.” He paused. “I knew exactly what I wanted to do when I met your mother.”