I nodded, and we finished our dinner talking about other things.
As prom night drew closer, the excitement in the school was palpable. There was truly an electricity in the air, spurts of laughter and giggling, smiles flashing, everyone assuring and promising everyone else that the night would be very special. I began to feel sorry for those girls who had not been asked. Their faces looked pale and forlorn. It was almost as if they were watching their youth pass them by, leaving them lost and alone on some street corner, at some bus stop where no bus ever came.
My grandparents kept asking about how we would spend the time between the prom and the picnic the next morning. I finally found out that a group of us was going to spend the night at Ruth Gibson's house. Her parents had to attend her father's brother's twenty- fifth anniversary affair in Dover, Maryland, so she had the house to herself, and they had given her permission to have some friends over. It was one of the bigger homes in Centerville, the nearby village. Being so close to our hamlet gave my grandparents some comfort, although my grandmother wasn't happy about there not being any older person to chaperone.
"Let them take on their own responsibilities," my grandfather said. "Alice is a pretty levelheaded kid."
She gave in, but she wasn't as confident about me as he was, and besides, she said, pointedly directing herself at me, "Sometimes, it's not you but your friends who get you into trouble."
"You toss the dice from the moment you drop them off at kindergarten on," my grandfather muttered.
Because I had imposed such a restricted, introverted, almost hermetic existence on myself, they were caught in a conflict. They had done what they could to get me to be more social, and now that I was, they didn't know how restrictive they should be without turning me back to the person I had been. I couldn't give them any clue. I was in uncharted waters myself. I would either drown or sail on. Grandfather Michael was probably right--you just toss the dice and pray.
Now that everything was laid out, our evening began to fall into place. Craig informed me Friday night that we were definitely not going in the limousine, however.
"First, I don't need to hear or to have them question me as to why I don't have my car," he said, "and second, I don't intend on sharing my time with you, not even a few minutes."
"What will we do?"
"Don't worry. I'm working on something very special," he told me and winked.
The night before the prom, I had this terrible nightmare in which I discovered that Craig's parents had decided to have him locked away so as to prevent him from taking me. He was chained to some wall, crying and screaming. Now I was like those other girls, the ones without a date, watching her youth float away unexplored. I actually woke in a sweat and found my heart thumping. Nothing pleased me as much as seeing the sunlight come pouring through my windows, cutting the darkness into shreds.
He called me twice that day, both times to reassure me that all was fine.
"My mother decided to go on a full-day shopping spree. It's her way of getting back at both me and my father, mostly him, because she's probably going to spend a ton of money on unnecessary things."
"What is your father saying?"
"Nothing. He just looks at me and shakes his head. I don't respond. They'll get over it," he said. "She'll have her tantrum and that will be that. Now be sure you take a nap like the young women did in
Gone with the Wind,"
he said, laughing.
"Like I could fall asleep."
He laughed, and then he told me his special secret about our transportation. He had rented Harold Echert's '57 Ford Thunderbird, a restored classic automobile.
"As it turns out, we're going to arrive at the prom in the most striking automobile."
"He let you rent it?"
The car was always parked in front of the Echert garage and drew the attention and admiration of tourists and locals alike. It was always kept washed and shined. There was a story about a movie company that had even used it in a film. It was fire engine red with those big white wall tires.
"Let? I gave him a pretty big chunk of change. It has that tuck and roll interior. I took it for a ride yesterday to be sure it was in tip-top condition. What power it has. Wait until I pick you up," he said. "My father did me a favor taking my car away."
"Okay," I said, laughing. "We'll send him a thank- you card."
His excitement was infectious.
Later in the day he called again to make sure I had rested and was ready for what he described as a life experience. I began to prepare myself nearly two hours before he was to come by. My grandmother was in and out of my room the whole time, fidgeting with my gown, my shoes, checking on my makeup and nay hair, acting more nervous about the prom than I was. My grandfather finally told her to leave me be.
"You're driving her crazy," he said.
"I just want her to be--"
"She'll be; she'll be. Relax, Elaine," he said, and finally she retreated to sit with him to wait for me to descend.
I did the best I could to stuff my own nervousness deep down inside me. Before I left my room, Aunt Zipporah called to hear how I looked in my gown and wish me a good time.
"I almost drove over to see you off, but Tyler said I would make you nervous."
"You would," I said, and she laughed.
"Make sure I get a picture."
"Okay."
"Have a great time, honey."
"Okay," I said as if it was all up to me.
Finally, I started down. Craig was due any minute. My grandparents, both pretending to be interested in what they were reading, nearly leaped out of their chairs. My grandmother couldn't help herself. She had to get up to fix one or two strands of my hair that had come loose from my hairpiece.
"You look fantastic, Alice," my grandfather said. "It's like a real princess came downstairs."
I smiled at him If only I could find someone to love me half as much as he did, I'd be fine, I thought. We heard the doorbell ring. My grandmother gave my grandfather a look, and he hurried to get their camera. Then she let Craig in.
He looked so handsome in his tuxedo. His face was beaming with excitement, and when he saw me, he looked like he had lost his breath.
"Wow," he declared. "I've got the prom queen for sure. Do I know talent, or do I know talent?"
"Oh, shut up. And stop congratulating yourself so much," I said.
He laughed and produced my corsage. As he pinned it on me, my grandfather started to take pictures. We posed for a few, and then my
grandparents followed us out to look at the car.
"A beaut," my grandfather said. "I've been envious of the Echerts for years because of that car."
"She rides like a dream," Craig told him My grandfather looked in the window at the seats and dashboard and whistled.
"Brings back memories," he said. "Nights in the drive-in, cruising .
"Keep those memories to yourself, if you don't mind," my grandmother told him, and they laughed.
Then they both hugged me, and Craig ran around to open the door for me.
"Have a wonderful time, you two," my grandfather said.
"Call us in the morning," my grandmother said. "Please. And be careful."
"We will," Craig said.
He started the engine, nodded at them and then we drove off. I thought I had been holding my breath the whole time, waiting to see if I would wake up and discover it had all been a dream. Craig reached over to squeeze my hand gently.
"We did it," he said. "And you are beautiful, Alice. You're truly like a discovery, a treasure, someone who has been hidden away too long." He laughed. "If we were real socialites, this would be your coming out party, like some debutante."
I smiled and thought,
It's true. It is an emergence of sorts. I'm breaking out of the attic.
The shadows were in flight. The brightness from our happiness was too strong for them.
We floated off like two meteors side by side on the way to another universe, one where darkness and unhappiness didn't exist. Neither of us spoke. It was as if we needed only to think at each other and look at each other to know the contents of our hearts.
"I've always been afraid to be this happy," I said in a loud whisper.
He turned and smiled at me.
"Why?"
-
I don't know. It's like . ."
"Like you're letting go of all the bad stuff?" "And that makes you feel guilty?"
"Yes."
"Then let's both feel guilty," he said, "like Adam and Eve. We'll both break the rules."
He laughed.
But was it funny? Should we laugh and be happy? After all, they lost paradise.
"Yes"
The Cherry Hill was one of the most glamorous and well-known hotels in the upstate resort area. It was a large, sprawling property with its own golf course, Olympic-size pool, nightclub and indoor skating rink. Normally, the students who went there for any reason were excited about it, but tonight we were given the golf club to use as our private dance hall and party room, and that made it even more exciting.
The hotel provided valet parking and had spotlights set up so it looked like celebrities were arriving. There was even a red carpet for us. When we drove up in the classic automobile, the students who had already arrived came to the door to look, and those who had just arrived ahead of us stood by to watch us pull up. There was even some applause. The class had hired a photographer to take the prom pictures, and he was clicking away madly as Craig and I stepped out of the car, his flash popping. The music was piped into some outside speakers so that it felt as if the party began the moment I stepped out of the car. Showing off for his friends, Craig took me in his arms and spun us around like two professional dancers on the red carpet. There was laughter and applause.
Craig's face seemed to absorb the brightness from the flashbulbs. His shoulders rose, and he swelled with pride. Right from the moment he had picked me up, I had been wondering if his parents' anger and attitude about his taking me would somehow seep into the evening and ruin our night. I was sure it was on his mind as well.
"I knew I asked the right girl to the prom. I told you that you would be the prom queen," he whispered as he took my arm and continued to lead me down the red carpet.
Craig's buddies wanted to know how he had managed to get the car. No one asked why he had done it; they all just assumed he wanted something special. Everyone was shaking his hand and patting him on the back as if he had hit a home run at the play-off game and not struck out.
I felt as if I had been lifted off earth in a rocket ship. Just a few weeks ago, before the spring break, I had been less than a shadow in the school--and a passing one at that. Now, I was the absolute center of attention with a ring of envious girls circling me, trying to get me to talk to them. Girls like Mindy Taylor and Peggy Okun, who had once tried to hurt me, were now relegated to the dark corners of the room. Amazed at my turnaround, they had sour faces and looked like they had been shrunken. I was sure they were in just as much a daze over all this as I was, only they weren't enjoying any of it.
Craig and I went out to the dance floor immediately, and so did the others around us. In fact, it seemed as if we were leading most of the prom attendees about on a leash, doing whatever we decided to do. When we went to the punch bowl, others did. When we had some snacks, they did. When we danced, they danced, and when we stood around to talk, the crowd gathered to hear every word.
What would my mother's life have been like if she had experienced these things? I wondered. Would it have changed her, helped her, kept her from disaster? If ever there was such a thing as an injection of self- confidence, this was it. I could now tell myself that there wasn't anyone who intimidated me, who danced much better than I danced, or looked much better than I looked. Suddenly competing with girls my age in this world didn't seem all that difficult. I truly felt as if Craig and I glowed on that dance floor, and it wasn't only because of the car and our clothes.
Craig was already a big shot in the school, being the class president and an athletic hero. Our stunning, dramatic appearance and the energy we radiated simply enhanced it all. Now that I was here, I did feel like I had been discovered, and deservedly so. I soaked up the attention from other boys and the girls willingly. I know I was far more talkative than ever, laughed more than I had ever laughed, and simply enjoyed myself for myself. I had never really taken pleasure in who I was, but I did this night and thought perhaps I would from now on. We had both made good decisions for ourselves when we remained determined to stay together and attend the prom.
"I can't believe how pretty you look. You're like an actress or something," Marsha Green told me. I just smiled at her. I didn't know what to say to someone gushing at me like that, especially her. She sat next to me in math class and hadn't so much as yawned in my direction before this.
A little while later, Craig pulled me aside and took the glass of punch out of my hands.
"I just found out that someone poured vodka in it," he said.
"Really? I didn't taste it."
"That's the idea. It's well disguised, but I don't want a replay from Mickey's party. I have something else for us that's better," he told me and patted his jacket.
Before I could ask him what that was, he was pulled away by Bobby Robinson to hear a joke. Even though all the boys had dates to attend to, they still liked to clump together and pass stories among themselves. Why were only girls considered gossips? I wondered and laughed to myself. I was making so many new and wonderful discoveries about the world I was in and the people I knew.
Moments later, the band, who was given the task of choosing the prom king and queen, stopped playing to announce whom they had selected. My heart began to pound. I could see from the way most of the others were looking at Craig and me that they expected we would be crowned. Nevertheless, when the band leader said our names in the microphone, I felt my legs nearly turn to jelly.
"C'mon," Craig urged. "Let's get those crowns before they decide they made a mistake."
I was in such a state of shock that I'm sure I looked like someone sleepwalking to the stage. I was to be the prom queen? Me? The town leper?
In a mock ceremony with lots of pomp and circumstance, trumpet and drum roll, we were coronated, and the others cheered and clapped. The photographer was snapping his pictures from all angles, and some of the other students who had brought cameras were doing the same. I even saw one of our chaperones, Mr. Kasofsky, taking pictures.
After the crowning, we had to dance by ourselves, like a bride and groom at a wedding, while a small spotlight followed us about the floor. I was terrified I would stumble or somehow look silly and awkward, but in Craig's strong embrace, I felt secure. He moved me about gracefully.
"I was afraid they'd choose Bobby and Charlene," Craig whispered. "They were our only real competition."
I glanced at Charlene. Although she had a soft smile on her face, I was sure she was disappointed. I felt sorry for her. In my mind she was really the most beautiful girl in the school, and Bobby cut a handsome figure, too.
"I guess in the end we were just too much for them," Craig added.
I looked up at him. Self-confidence was slipping quickly into arrogance, I thought. Maybe his mother was coming through, after all.
"I don't feel right about it," I said. "Charlene certainly dances better than I do, and she's prettier."
"The band didn't think so, and that's what matters most," he replied. "Don't be silly. Enjoy it," Craig said.
He was certainly basking in the attention.
"Won't my parents be speechless when they find out?" he muttered. "Dad's customers will be congratulating him, and he'll have to smile and thank them. I know my mother will permit herself to bask in the glory, even though she'll never admit she was wrong. Serves them both right. I hope they find it difficult eating crow."
I wished he wasn't so bitter about his own mother and father. It still bothered me that I was partly, if not wholly, to blame, and it made me feel funny to see him happier about making his parents uncomfortable than enjoying our moment for what it truly was.
The attention we received on first arriving was compounded by the coronation. Everyone wanted to know what our plans were for after the prom and the next day. An invitation to Ruth Gibson's house quickly became as valuable as an invitation to the White House. I was surprised by the girls who came to me to ask if I could get them and their dates invited.
"It's not my house and not my party," I said, blowing the ingratiating smiles off their faces.
"How quickly someone can become stuck up," Jennifer Todd muttered loudly enough for the other girls nearby to hear. Heads were nodding, and my welcome mat was quickly pulled out from under my feet and rolled up again.
Envy has a way of turning into resentment, I
thought and wished we had made far less of a spectacular appearance. I had wanted only to have a good time, to have something to remember forever, a cherished remembrance to press into a photo album. I wasn't looking to conquer the school and become Miss Popularity.
Soon after, the group that was going to Ruth's house decided it might be time to leave. Some of them asked Craig, and he told them yes. The prom had run out of speed, especially for him. What else was there to do here after you had been crowned king?
"Now the real partying begins," he whispered to me as we left. "We're going to have a good time," he chanted. "My parents have failed to spoil this night for me. We've shown them."
That sounded that earlier sour note. I certainly didn't want us to have a good time in order to spite anyone. I wanted it to be our good time for ourselves, pleasing only ourselves, but Craig was on a tear about it now. During the last hour at the prom, I noticed he was behaving differently anyway. He kept leaving me to join his buddies around the punch bowl, which I knew had vodka in it. There was no smoking permitted inside the club, so those who wanted to smoke had to go outside. Craig joined them even though he didn't smoke. He left me alone for a good ten or so minutes, and when he returned, he was more hyper and excited. It was soon after that when the decision to leave was made.
We got into the car quickly and followed the line of cars off the hotel grounds, heading for Ruth Gibson's home. We were still wearing our crowns. I thought it was silly to keep them on, but Craig insisted.
"We have to wear them all night, even sleep in them," he joked.
It was just past midnight. The party at Ruth's house consisted of ten couples, but only three were going to sleep over. We were all taking one of the back roads, a shortcut that would get us there faster. With only our car headlights and the taillights of the cars ahead of us to illuminate the way through these secondary roads slicing through wooded areas, I suddenly felt as if I were in an eerie procession. It made me nervous.
"Here," Craig said, taking his hand off the steering wheel to hand me a dark cigarette. "Light one of these."
"I don't smoke, and I thought you didn't," I said. "It's not a cigarette, Alice. Don't you know what it is?"
I shook my head but smelled it.
"Is it . . . pot?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, laughing. "It won't make you sick, and you'll relax quickly." He reached for the cigarette lighter and held it toward me. I hesitated. "C'mon, hurry up. I want some, too. We have a right to celebrate. We're royalty."
Even more nervous now, I lit the joint and took a puff, blowing it out quickly and coughing. He laughed at me again.
"You have to hold it in," he said and took it from me to show me how to smoke pot.
"Here, try it again."
"I'd rather not," I said.
"C'mon, Alice. Loosen up. We have a great night ahead of us."
"That's the way I want to keep it," I said.
"Wow."
He shook his head in disappointment, but he didn't argue. I could see he was very annoyed with me, but he didn't say anything nasty. Instead, he smoked faster and held the smoke in his nostrils longer. "You don't know what you're missing," he sang and bounced about in the seat, leaning over to kiss me and then offer me the joint again and again.
I tried to ignore him. Finally, he turned up the radio and laughed.
"Look how fast Jack Montgomery is going," he said, nodding at one of the cars quite ahead of us. "I know what's on his mind. He wants the best guest room for him and Brenda. That creep.
"Wait a minute," he said. "We're the king and the queen of the night. We shouldn't be following them. They should be following us."
With that, he pulled out and accelerated, passing two of the cars ahead of us and leaning on his horn. They did the same. Jack Montgomery's car was the last one ahead of us. Craig sounded his horn, but Jack refused to move to the right. Craig drove up to his bumper, practically colliding, and tapped the horn continually. Jack only accelerated.
"The bastard," Craig said and accelerated too. "You're going too fast," I said. "It doesn't matter, Craig. Let him go."
"It matters," he said. "Everyone is trying to box me in. It's like my mother is in that car," he muttered. "What?"
What a strange thing to say,
I thought.
He didn't respond. He drove faster.
The back roads were far more narrow than the main roads in our area. Some of them hadn't been attended to for years and were broken up. The shoulders of the roads were soft, and on both sides there was deep ditching, but because the ditches hadn't been cleaned out for some time, they were disguised with mud, leaves and dead branches.
Craig drove with the joint dangling from the corner of his mouth like any ordinary cigarette. When he took a deep and hard draw on it, the smoke streamed out of his nostrils, making him look like a mad hull.
Gradually, he caught up to Jack's car again, only this time, instead of trying to get him to pull to the right, he swerved radically to the left and began to pass him. We were side by side, and when I looked over, Jack was laughing, but his girlfriend Brenda was just as terrified as I was, and she was pounding him on the shoulder to get him to slow down. I saw him turn to push her away, and when he did, he jerked his car dangerously close to ours. Craig compensated by moving to the left, only our front left wheel fell into the ditch.
It was as if someone, some great invisible giant, had reached through the darkness and taken our car into his huge hand, spinning it around. The wheels froze on the macadam nd the car literally lifted off the ground and turned over, crashing into the large oak and hickory trees. I screamed. I heard the sound of glass and metal smashing and felt myself being lifted and thrown about. My eyes were closed. I never felt any pain when we stopped thrashing about. I was simply in the darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was looking at a white ceiling, and I heard the sound of some sort of beeping. Slowly, I began to focus, but with it came a surge of pain along my left side, up my leg and into my hip. I groaned. When I turned my head, I saw my grandfather sitting near me in what was obviously a hospital room. He had his head lowered so his chin nearly rested on his chest. I closed and opened my eyes and then called to him. At first I thought I was in a dream and calling in my sleep, because he didn't respond. Then he raised his head slowly and looked at me.
He looked exhausted, looked like someone who had been up for days and days. His face was unshaven and his eyes drooped, but he managed a smile and stood up slowly to come to the bed and take my hand.
"Hey, princess, how are you doing?" he asked.
"Where am I?"
"You're in the county hospital. You've been in and out of a coma for two days. Your grandmother is out in the hallway speaking with the doctor," he said.
"What happened?"
"Don't you remember?"
I shook my head. Was this that famous selective amnesia again?
"You were in a very bad car accident, Alice. Very bad. We're lucky to still have you. Don't you remember any of it?"
I stared at him The pain seemed dull now. I noticed for the first time that something was stuck in my arm, and I followed the tube up to a bag hanging on a stand. I wanted to ask about it, but I felt my eyelids closing, and my effort to keep them open was futile. In moments I was asleep again.
When I woke this time, my grandmother was standing there with the doctor. My grandfather walked into the room and joined them.
"Alice," my grandmother said. "Alice, do you hear me? Alice?" She turned to the doctor. "She's looking at me, but she doesn't seem to hear me or even see me."
"She's still in quite a daze," he said.
Was I dreaming? I seemed to be looking at them through a thick fog. Slowly, it began to clear.
"What happened to me, Grandma?"
"You shattered your hip pretty badly," she said. "You're going to need an operation to see what can be done. You have a concussion, but the doctor says it's not life threatening. You have trauma all over your body, Alice. It's amazing you don't have even more serious injuries."
As she spoke, I looked at my grandfather and then the doctor. They weren't just watching my reactions. There was something else in their faces, something that frightened me. I closed my eyes and tried hard to remember everything. It was as if I were coming up from a pool of ink, slowly rising toward the light. A part of me wanted to keep from rising. I was shaking my head, pleading to stop going toward the light, but I couldn't prevent it.
I burst out, and the memories rushed at me like some sort of mad little animals, eager to take a bite out of me. I brought my left hand to my face and moaned.
"Easy," the doctor said.
"What . . . where's Craig?" I asked.
No one replied. They just looked at me. Then my grandmother looked to my grandfather and he stepped forward.
"Craig didn't make it, Alice."
"Didn't make what?"
"His injuries were far more severe."
I continued to stare at him, waiting for him to add,
"But he'll be all right."
He didn't add anything. He lowered his eyes. "You mean Craig's dead?"
"Oh God," my grandmother said. Her lips trembled.
It was as if her face was in an earthquake. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"He's dead?" I asked again.
"Yes, Alice. He's passed away," my grandfather said.
I closed my eyes, and then I fell back into the inky pool and began to descend.
When I woke up again, my aunt Zipporah was there. She was staring out the window.
"Aunt Zipporah?"
"Oh, Alice. I'm so glad you're awake. You poor kid."
"Where are Grandpa and Grandma?"
"They're having something to eat in the hospital cafeteria. How are you feeling?"
"Numb," I said. I thought for a moment. Had I been awake and had I spoken with my grandparents and did they really say what I thought they had said?
Aunt Zipporah pulled a chair close to the bed and took my left hand into her hands. She smiled at me.
"You'll be all right," she said. "Banged up, but you'll be all right."
"I was in a car accident."
"Terrible one. Your grandfather says anyone looking at the wreck would have a hard time believing you lived."
"But Craig . ."
"I know. It's so sad. Can you remember what happened?"
I thought for a moment. Words and pictures seemed to jumble around like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in my head. Slowly, some of them fit together.
"We were going to a house party."
"Yes, I understand," she said, nodding to urge me on. "It was after the prom."