“Not quite,” Matthew answered, “but pretty close. That’s remarkable. Brian told you, didn’t he?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Brian swore. “She’s uncanny, that’s all. Gilly, do the Russian story, will you?”
“No, not now, Brian. If you live in Virginia, why were you heading for New Haven?”
“Army business,” Matthew said.
“Will you go to the theater there?”
“I hadn’t thought so. Should I?”
“Yes, you should. They’re trying out a wonderful show at the Biltmore. At least, I think it’s still there. It may have already moved to New York. It’s called Sons and Soldiers.”
“A musical?”
“No, no, a straight drama.”
“Who’s in it?”
“Geraldine Fitzgerald plays the woman,” Gillian said. “And there’s a new actor called...” She paused. “Gregory something. I can’t remember. He’s very tall, with dark hair and brooding eyes, and a strong profile.”
“I’ll try to see it,” Matthew said.
“The band’s starting,” Brian said. “Are we getting out of here?”
“Shhh,” Gillian said, “they’re playing our song.” She winked at Amanda and led Brian onto the floor.
“How old is your friend?” Matthew asked.
“Eighteen.” Amanda paused. “Does that make her old enough?”
“Legally, do you mean?”
“However you prefer.”
“I prefer honey blondes who fall out of peach trees. I thought I told you that. I’m going for that drink. Will you come with me?”
“I’m not thirsty,” Amanda said. She hesitated. “But I’ll go with you.”
“Shall we tell them we’re leaving?”
“Why? We’ll be back.”
“Yes, of course,” Matthew said.
He took her arm and led her out of the gym. It was a dark night, almost moonless. They walked slowly toward the car.
“Why’d you ask how old Gillian was?”
“I was curious. She seems older somehow. And yet I knew she was just a kid.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Two things I’ll never guess at are a woman’s age or her weight.”
“I’ll give you a hint. I’m finishing my sophomore year.”
“That isn’t a hint at all. You can be a very bright sophomore, and therefore quite young, or else—”
“I am very bright,” Amanda said.
“Yes, and quite young.”
“And how young is quite young?”
“Younger than Gillian,” he said.
“Really? You don’t believe that.”
“No. I know it isn’t true. But you seem much younger than she does.”
“Why is that?”
“Search me. Here’s the car.”
He opened the door on her side. She hesitated.
“Go on,” he said. “Get in.”
“I told you. I don’t want a drink.”
“Get in, anyway. I hate to drink alone.”
“All right,” she said. She got into the car, and he slammed the door behind her. She immediately tucked her skirts around her, but they wouldn’t stay put because of the crinoline petticoats. The door on his side of the car opened, and he slid onto the seat, leaned over, and thumbed open the glove compartment.
“There we are,” he said, reaching for the pint. He unscrewed the cap and held the bottle out to her. “Sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I don’t drink,” she said.
“See what I mean?”
“No. See what you mean about what?”
“Your youth. How old are you anyway, Miranda?”
“Amanda,” she said. “I was twenty just this month.”
“Amanda, of course.” He tilted the bottle to his mouth. “Happy birthday, Amanda.” He took a quick swallow, screwed the cap back on, and put the bottle into the glove compartment, slamming it shut. “There.”
“Is that all you’re going to have?” she asked.
“Isn’t that enough? Did you think I was an alcoholic?”
“Well no, but...”
“Somehow all this undergraduate nonsense gives me the willies. I needed that drink. But I feel perfectly fine now.”
“I’m terribly glad to hear that. I’m sorry our dance seems childish to you,” she said, slightly miffed.
“It does,” Matthew admitted.
“But of course we aren’t experienced citizens of the world who—”
He kissed her suddenly. One arm moved swiftly across the back of the seat, his right hand capturing her right shoulder. His left arm swung over simultaneously, his head was suddenly moving toward hers, his lips found hers, held them, pressed tightly against them. She pushed him away and caught her breath.
“Hey!”
“Hey,” he mimicked.
“I... cut it out.”
“Why?”
“I...” She shrugged. “Just cut it out. Let’s go back.”
“Don’t you like the way I kiss?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t. I’m going back. Are you coming?”
She was in his arms again suddenly, swiftly his mouth descended, she could feel the bristles of his mustache, again she pulled away, and again she had to catch her breath.
“Now... now stop it,” she said.
“Why?”
“I don’t like it, I don’t know you, your mustache, I don’t like it, stop it.”
“No,” he said, and he pulled her to him, and she found herself succumbing to the warmth of his mouth, gentle now, not at all harsh, the warm enclosing embrace of his arms, she felt a sigh murmur through her body, and she turned her face from his and buried it in his shoulder. Weakly, she said, “I don’t think...”
“Neither do I,” he answered, and he kissed her again.
She did not mind the mustache at all, she hardly noticed it any more. He touched her face with his hands, and she murmured gently, his hands were on her throat, his fingers touched the hollow of her throat, his mouth was on her ear, and suddenly his hand dropped, touched the neck of her gown briefly, and then pressed into her flesh beneath the gown, under her bra, she felt her breast caught in his hand, and she tried to sit erect, she felt suddenly violated, felt suddenly as if her body were not her own, felt his mouth on her cheek, felt his lips again, his tongue exploring, his hand tightening on her breast, shocked, she sat shocked, trembling with outrage, his hands on her body, and finally she pushed him away violently and moved to the other side of the car, and said nothing, and opened the door, and got out and then turned, her breast suddenly cold now that his hand was no longer there, she was sure she looked naked, she was certain her breast was exposed so that everyone could see it. She turned, and very coldly said, “Good night, Captain Bridges,” and as she stalked away from the car she heard him say behind her, “Good night, Miranda,” and she was sure there was a smile on his face.
Gillian did not get back to the dormitory room until two o’clock that morning. Amanda was waiting up for her, sitting with the pillows propped behind her, wearing blue cotton pajamas, her blond hair caught with a blue ribbon at the back of her head.
“Hi,” Gillian said.
“Hi.”
Gillian went to her bed and flopped onto it. “I’m pooped.”
She lay silently for close to five minutes until Amanda thought she was asleep. Then she stirred and sat up and took off her high-heeled pumps without touching them with her hands, and then she walked to Amanda’s bed and said, “Unzip me, will you?” She hung limply in the dress while Amanda pulled down the zipper. She threw the blue silk onto the foot of her bed, took off the rest of her clothes, turned out the light, got into bed naked, and pulled the covers to her throat.
“Gillian?” Amanda said.
“Mmmmm?”