As she turned back toward the bathroom she pulled the nightgown off over her head and flung it toward the rumpled bed. She angled the bathroom door so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror, and then stepped back, feeling a familiar guilt at this recently instituted ceremony of self-appraisal. The shadowy light in her bedroom deepened her tan and exaggerated the pallor of the bands of white across her breasts and pelvis. Mealy white, she thought. It makes nakedness look more naked. Go on, girl. Stare at yourself. Criticize. What do you want? Reassurance? Took myself for granted for so damn long, and suddenly turn into a nervous exhibitionist, wondering if it’s all exactly what Mr. Dallas Kemp wants for his very own. Shoulders back, girl. That’s a little better. Dal, honey, you better keep on liking it just as much as you seem to right now, because it’s all there is. And it’s all — forgive the expression — girl.
She was too healthy-minded to endure this fleshy appraisal without its awakening her sense of comedy. She smirked at herself and struck a pose that parodied the contrived bawdiness of the girls on questionable calendars, and laughed at how silly she looked, and went on into the bathroom.
While she stood under her hot shower, she knew that no deep sleep and no prolonged shower could completely relax her. There was a greedy little knot of sexual tension within her, which, at nineteen days before marriage, was, she suspected, a desirable thing.
For a moment she felt darkly envious of the brides of bygone years who were virgin right up until the first night of honeymoon. They too could have this itch of yearning and wanting, but it would be dampened by their fears. But she knew just how good it would be with Dal Kemp, because there had been that brief, intense, carefully rationalized affair with him back when they had been antagonistic toward each other, before they had, to their mutual surprise, fallen deeply in love.
And last night had not been calculated to relieve anybody’s tensions. They had parked on the way home for the usual talk and the usual kissings, under a partial moon. But the kissings had carried her away into a buttery, swarming, under-watery place, puffing like a small frantic bellows, twisting under his hands to make everything readily accessible to him — and had not somebody somehow touched the horn ring, blasting the quiet night with an electronic bray that set nearby dogs to barking and froze both of them in a moment of induced terror, they would have had to part with wry confessions of mutual weakness, and wistful words about the pact they had broken.
After the howl of the car horn had substituted for character and they sat carefully apart with their breathing slowing, Dal was inclined to be grumpy, saying, “It’s a pretty artificial arrangement, isn’t it? After all, we’ve...”
“But that was two other people, darling. That was the worldly young architect sneaking that silly blonde in and out of his bachelor quarters. Not us. Silly people having a silly affair. But along came love. Remember?”
“Somehow the logic of this escapes me, dearest.”
“But it isn’t logic, Dal darling! It’s sentiment. I love you. I’m going to marry the man I love. And I just want to be as much of a traditional bride-type bride as I can. I just want to be — shy and coy and apprehensive. I’m certainly not so cynical I’m trying to nail you down by locking the cookie cupboard. Do you think that?”
“No, no. I do know what you mean. But at times like this my nerves go bad. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be ready to joke and sing and do card tricks.”
After he had dropped her at her home, Helen realized that she had not risked telling Dal about her impending Saturday-night date with Arnold Crown. The narrowness of their escape from breaking the pact had kept it from ever being the right time or place. It would have to be done today, and he would have to be made to understand why she had to see Arnold.
After her shower she packed fresh tennis clothing and a swim suit in her zipper bag and, wearing a summer skirt, blouse and sandals, went downstairs. Her mother was on the phone, talking about appointing some kind of a committee. They exchanged morning smiles. Helen fixed juice, toast and coffee, and took her tray out onto the kitchen patio.
Jane Wister brought her own cup of coffee out and sat at the round redwood table with her daughter and said, “The bride-to-be was positively radiant.”
“Glowing with tremulous anticipation,” Helen said. “Why don’t you appoint a committee to run this wedding?”
“Would that I could, child. And how does it feel to be one of the unemployed?”
“I can’t really tell yet. I wouldn’t be working today anyway. Ask me on Monday, Mom. They had a sort of a farewell party for me at the office yesterday. I had to make a speech, even.”
“Baby, your father and I think you’re getting a pretty nice guy.”
“I know I am.”
“After some of those clowns you ran around with...”
“You hush!”
“What’s the schedule for today?”
“Dal and I are meeting Francie and Joe at the club at noon for lunch. Then tennis. Then a swim. And then a drink.”
“You may run into two twelve-year-old Martians posing as your twin brothers. I think they plan to spend the day making the pool unbearable for the general public. What are you and Dal doing tonight?”
“I’m going to see Arnold Crown tonight, Mom.”
“You’re what? What does Dal say about this?”
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“You’re doing a very stupid thing, Helen.”
“I can’t help it. I feel responsible. I was nice to Arnold because I felt sorry for him. I had no idea he was going to — get so carried away. I can’t help it if he got the wrong idea, But it was my fault for going out with him in the first place. And I’ve got to put a stop to all this — constant heckling, all these notes and phone calls, and his driving by the house all the time, and following Dal and me whenever he can. It’s a kind of persecution. I hope I don’t have to be cruel, but I’ve got to make him understand he has absolutely no chance at all.”
Jane Wister smiled at her daughter. “Ever since you were eleven there’s been some smitten Arnold hanging around. You attract the lame ducks, dear. You’ve always been too kind to them.” The smile disappeared. “But this is a grown man and I think he’s an unstable man. You see him in a public place and you be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone with him, you understand?”
“Oh, he’s perfectly harmless! He’s just terribly upset.”
“Let your father handle it. Or Dal.”
“I promised him I’d see him tonight, Mom. I can settle him down. Don’t fret about it. It’ll be wonderful not to have him popping up from behind every bush. And I can stop flinching every time the phone rings.”
“I’d just like to know where a person like Arnold Crown got the idea he’d have the ghost of a chance with a girl like you. The Wisters have been...”
“Knock it off, Mrs. Wister. Snobbery doesn’t become you.”
“But you’ve had every advantage, and he...”
“Owns and operates a gas station, a good one.”
“And Dallas Kemp is one of the finest young architects in the state. So I’m a snob. So be it.”
Helen Wister did not find a good opportunity to tell Dal Kemp about Arnold Crown until a little after four that afternoon. They had swum in the crowded pool, and then Dal had pulled one of the poolside pads over onto the grass away from the heavy traffic. They were stretched out, prone, side by side, the late afternoon sun biting their backs.
“You get bossy when we play doubles,” Dal said lazily.