HER WORDS hit me right where I lived. I let them sink in and wondered what to say.
It wasn’t easy. I thought of a lot of things, but each sounded more trite than the last. All were inadequate. They had been said before by other men under other circumstances. For that reason, they’d be bound to sound corny.
We stood there looking at each other. She was waiting for me to say something and I wasn’t saying it. I did the next best thing. I put my arms around her again. If a sparrow cop had come along, we’d have looked very silly: a man and a girl locked tight in the middle of some very cold winter.
Then I said things. They were the things a kid might say to his first girl—and they were said that way. I wanted Dana to understand how much I loved her; how deeply I was touched by what she was offering. It was important for her to understand that because I knew I was going to turn it down.
I released her, then took her arm and started walking. She walked, too. You could hear our thoughts racing.
Inside, I was all mixed up. Emotions and common sense were having themselves a pitched battle. It would have been easy and delightful to say Yes. But I knew I was going to say No. Only trouble was, I didn’t know how to do it. The situation was delicate. I could turn her down and feel noble. But I didn’t want to feel noble. I didn’t care how I felt. It was Dana I was concerned about.
I said, “Let’s keep one thing in mind, sweetheart. I love you.”
That wasn’t too good, but it wasn’t too bad, either. I had said it before, but it still fitted. She didn’t even look at me. I hadn’t covered quite enough territory. I tried again.
“The idea is startling. It’s the thing I’d like second best in the world.”
“And the first best?”
“Would be to marry you.”
“We’re back where we started,” she said.
I asked, “Shall I diagram it?”
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“All right. The words are going to be all mixed up. They’re going to sound cold and logical instead of the way I want them to sound. They’re going to make me out a wooden Indian.”
“In other words . . .” She took the play away from me, “You’re refusing.”
I tightened my fingers on her arm. It was the most precious arm in the world. The girl it belonged to was the most precious girl. I said, “Let’s don’t put it in simple words, Dana. It isn’t a simple matter. It’s merely that I’m looking farther ahead than you are.”
“That’s our trouble,” she retorted with some bitterness. “We’ve always looked so far ahead that we’ve failed to understand what’s happening right now. And don’t tell me that I’m acting on impulse. Don’t tell me that I’m angry with Ricardo. Quarreling with him tonight only served to crystallize ideas I’ve had for a long time.”
I said, “It wouldn’t work out. You ’re not the sort of girl who could live with a man she wasn’t married to and get away with it.”
“I’m not afraid of what people would say.”
“It isn’t people I’m afraid of. It’s you. There would always be that between us. You’d always be wondering what I was thinking.”
“Doesn’t that seem rather unimportant, Kirk?”
“No.” I stopped walking and so did she. “I’m going to quit sparring,” I said. “I’ll hand it to you straight, and you’ll either understand it or you won’t. You want this maybe a tenth as much as I do. You’re the one who would be sacrificing something. It’s a sacrifice I won’t let you make.”
“I’ve thought it over.”
“Then you’ve thought the wrong way. You’ve probably tried to justify and rationalize a move which you instinctively know is wrong. Oh! I’m not talking morals. What you’re suggesting wouldn’t be immoral—no matter what people might think. It wouldn’t be immoral, but it would be wrong because it would be foolish. You’ve got to see what I’m driving at! Get it into your pretty head that I’m not a prude. It all adds up to this: What we both want is permanence. We wouldn’t get it that way.”
“What does that make me?”
“The sweetest, bravest girl I’ve ever known. And if you start feeling sorry for what you’ve done, I’ll pin your ears back.”
Her eyes held mine. They were fine, steady eyes. They saw in my face a lot of things I hadn’t been able to put into words.
Then, for the first time, a little smile played about her lips. She said, “You’re right, Kirk. I was afraid you would be.”
“Afraid?”
“I wanted you to do the wrong thing. I wanted you to say Yes. I wanted you to be swept by your desire for me . . .”
“That,” I said, “would be easy.”
“But it won’t happen. I know. As a matter of fact, I agree with you.” She laughed. “My God!” she said, “the tricks that intelligence can play!”
We started walking again, this time toward Fifth Avenue. I said, “Is it necessary for me to start building up again to make you understand how much this has meant to me?”
“You know better than that, darling. And I don’t feel like a woman scorned. I don’t feel that you have rejected me. I don’t feel anything but grateful—and disappointed.”
We looked at each other and smiled. “Okay now?” I asked.
“Okay, Mister.”
And it was okay. That was Dana. No putting me on the spot. Instead of driving us farther apart, this had drawn us closer. She said, “If you ever change your mind, Kirk—I can be had.” She said it lightly, with an obvious effort to relieve the tension.
I said, “I’ll come up and see you sometime.”
We left the park and walked as far as Lexington. We went into a hamburger stand and sat on red leather stools in front of a polished white counter. We ordered hamburgers and steaming coffee. Until we started to eat, we didn’t realize that we’d forgotten dinner altogether.
The place was immaculate. We were the only customers. The counterman looked us over and walked to the front of his place where he stood staring moodily out into the street. Everything was back to normal again.
Dana smiled at me without turning her head. She smiled into the big polished mirror and I smiled back the same way. She said, “I should feel embarrassed.”
“You should? What about me?”
“You’re a big strong man. You’ve done your good deed for the day.”
“And in consequence, I feel like a dope.”
“That’s nice, she said. “I hoped you would.”
We wound up with more coffee and some sugared doughnuts. We were beginning to get down to earth. Dana said, “At least I won’t hate myself in the morning.”
“I wish I could say the same thing.”
“Pure,” she said, touching my cheek. “Pure as the driven snow.”
“You could have gone on,” I grinned. “You could have said, ‘and twice as cold’.”
We were back in the groove by the time we finished our informal meal. We stopped at the cash register and paid the counterman. I left a tip that made his eyes bug out. He said, “Good luck, buddy,” and I thought I knew what he meant. I looked at Dana and she giggled. Then I knew that everything was right as rain.
The Caliente was jammed when we got there. Chris, the doorman, greeted us. The head waiter walked around the velvet rope and said, “Somebody been asking for you two.”
“Who”
“Candy Livingston. She’s got a big party tonight.” He gave a little thought to his next comment, and then took a chance. “She’s kinda high,” he said.
It was a gay party, all right: a long table at the ringside. Candy was there, looking as though she’d been poured into the black evening gown which set off her blonde beauty to rare advantage. She was surrounded by a half dozen other people. Across the table from Candy sat Agnes Sheridan. Arthur Maybank wasn’t anywhere around, but that didn’t surprise me because this was one of his duty nights at the hospital.
Candy saw us coming. As an interceptor, she was good. She said to Dana, “I’ve already got three extra places at the table. That hooks Kirk as of now, and you and Ricardo later.”
They talked for a few seconds, and then Dana rushed off to dress for the supper show. Candy dragged me after her and introduced me all around. She sat me next to her, which put me right across from Agnes.
I was interested in Agnes. She seemed to have plenty on the ball, and I wondered what she saw in Arthur. Maybe, I reflected, it was that he was a doctor in the hospital where she was a lowly nurse’s aide, so that she saw something other than the puny frame and shy manner of a little man who was considerably less than a shining personality socially. But looking her over now, she seemed to me to belong more definitely with Candy Livingston than with Arthur. And Candy seemed to think so, too, I gathered from snatches of conversation that Miss Livingston and Miss Sheridan had been seeing quite a bit of each other.
Candy’s party was in high gear when I sat down. The hostess was particularly gay. Once she leaned over and whispered, “Changed your mind yet, Big Boy?”
I laughed and pretended not to take her seriously. She said, “Are you hard to get! ” and the scene in the park flashed back to me. It all made me feel slightly ridiculous.
The show started and finished. A few minutes later Dana joined our table and right behind her came Ricardo. They paid no attention to each other, and I didn’t know whether the fight was continuing.
Ricardo was still working on Candy. But he was overdoing it. Candy winked at me. I had an idea that Ricardo wasn’t ever going to get to first base. But he kept right on trying.
I danced with Dana, and asked about Ricardo. She said, “He’s still in an ugly mood. But I kept my mouth shut.”
“Smart girl.”
She glanced at the table. “Candy and Agnes seem to be hitting it off, don’t they?”
“I was thinking the same thing. But why not?”
“No reason. As a matter of fact, I like Agnes myself. She’d be good for Arthur.”
I said, “How about Candy? Who would she be good for?”
Dana didn’t answer immediately. Then she said, “I don’t know. Maybe Ricardo. Maybe you.”
“We don’t play in the same league.”
“It could be arranged.”
“You flatter me.”
“I’ve flattered you twice tonight. You should be a bundle of conceit.”
The party kept going until three o’clock. Candy wanted to continue celebrating. Dana and I talked our way out of it. Ricardo checked in with her suggestion. He was full of optimism.
I left Dana in front of her apartment house. I went home and prepared for bed. I set the alarm clock, and knew I wasn’t going to like it when it exploded in my ear four hours from now.
I got a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I didn’t think I merited any applause, which was why the night seemed so fantastic.
I thought back beyond that. Within the past week, I had turned down a very gorgeous young lady who offered herself and twenty million dollars. Tonight I had said No to the girl I was in love with.
“If you heard that about someone else,” I remarked to my reflection, “you’d say he was a double damn fool.”
I snapped out the light, opened the window and slipped into bed. “And,” I finished, “you’d be right.”