The Obstacle Course (17 page)

“Sure I do.”

“I mean … you know …”

“Yeah …”

“I do, too.”

“You do?”

“Can’t you tell?” She took my arm. “I’m cold,” she said, pressing up against me.

We walked for a minute. I was counting my breaths. She giggled.

“Now I’m not.”

Her porch light was on. We stood off to the side so it wouldn’t shine on us. She had made me walk real quiet up the stairs, so her mom wouldn’t hear us.

“Well … good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Darlene.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

We stared awkwardly at each other.

“Darlene, would you like to go steady with me?” I heard myself blurt out. I hadn’t meant to say it, it just came out.

She was taken aback.

“I mean … I know it’s like …” What the fuck did I mean? I didn’t know myself. I did want to, I’d been wanting to since the day I laid eyes on her, but you don’t ask a girl to go with you when you haven’t even had one real date.

“I … my mother doesn’t let me.”

“Oh … okay … sure …”

“But if she did … I would like to go out with you whenever you can … when you want to … if you do … is that okay?”

“Sure, yeah. That’s great.” Is that
okay?
Is the pope Catholic?

“That’s good.” She smiled.

I’d run out of gas. This was more than I could handle for one night.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” I turned to go.

“Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want to kiss me good night?”

Whoa, Nellie. “Sure.”

She came to me. I held her, awkwardly, bending down and giving her a nice kiss, a kiss that wouldn’t offend her, since it was our first time.

A nice kiss was not what this girl had in mind. She Frenched me so deep down my throat I almost felt her tongue touching my tonsils.

That was all I needed. We made out like fiends, right there on her mother’s front porch. Even though she was wearing a heavy coat I could feel her titties pressed up against me. I had to shift my leg slightly so she wouldn’t feel my boner. She shifted with me, pressing her thigh right between my legs.

She took a deep breath when we finally came up for air. Then she leaned forward and bit my lip.

My leg started jitterbugging on its own. Damn, she was wild! Darlene Mast, who everybody thought was untouchable.

“Boy, Roy, you sure do kiss great.”

“So do you, Darlene.”

“I’ll bet you’ve had lots of practice,” she teased, “a lot more than me.”

I wasn’t sure about that, not after the way she’d just kissed me, but I wasn’t going to say so. You’ve got to act like a gentleman sometimes, even if it means not saying everything that’s on your mind.

“I don’t want to anymore,” I told her, “only with you.”

This was the truth. If I didn’t kiss another girl the rest of my life I wouldn’t care.

She leaned against me one more time before pulling away.

“My mother knows we’re out here,” she whispered. “I’d better say good night, so she’ll let me see you again.”

“Good night,” I said back to her.

She touched my cheek with her mittened hand one time, then darted inside. A moment later, the porch light went off.

I stood without moving for a long time, until I forced myself to walk down the stairs. I could’ve slept on their porch all night, except they’d have thought I was crazy.

I was floating on air as I walked home. This was definitely one of the great days of my life. Probably the greatest.

“T
HAT’S A NICE-LOOKING BLAZER
, Roy,” Admiral Wells said, squinting at me as I stood in front of the full-length mirror. “Blue looks good on you, which is fortunate for someone who aspires to Annapolis.” He has this real dry sense of humor, the admiral, half the time I don’t know if he’s kidding or not. He turned to the salesman, who was holding another sports coat. “Let’s try on the tweed now, shall we?”

We were in this very fancy men’s store in Washington, Louis and Thomas Saltz, where the admiral buys his own clothes. Everybody in here knew him—as soon as we walked in all the salesmen started falling over themselves trying to help.

“We need a jacket for my young friend here,” he’d told the salesman, “a sports coat he can wear with anything. We’ll also be wanting a couple of shirts, a tie, and a pair of slacks. Cords should do the trick, I think.” He glanced down at my shoes. I was wearing my clip-toe bombers, which have a two-inch thick sole. “We’ll worry about shoes next time, if that’s all right with you,” he said to me.

I shrugged, too intimidated to answer. I felt like a chump, not only because of the clothes—which if any of my friends ever saw me in would be the end of my being thought of as cool—but the fact that he was going to pay for it all.

“And some socks, too,” he added, “something that covers the calf. A gray should work.”

We’d been down in his basement earlier in the day, working on a model. I’d been over his house the last three weekends, since that first time he’d brought me there. It was great: we’d work on stuff together, and then talk about Annapolis and the Navy. The admiral talked to me like a regular person, not the way I’m used to being talked to by a grownup. Like two friends talking.

He’d turned to me, down there, and said, “By the way, you’ll be staying for dinner tonight. Mrs. Wells is having some people over and we want them to meet you.” Then he’d looked me up and down. I was wearing my usual, jeans and a sports shirt. “We’ll have to get you some clothes,” he’d said, “we dress for dinner.”

“I don’t have any money,” I’d stammered, scared to death. He must’ve thought I was rolling in dough, the way I was always buying models and stuff. “I mean on me.”

“This will be my treat,” he’d informed me, in this particular tone of voice he has. When he talks that way you don’t argue with him, you just do it. It’s the way he talked to the men in his command, I’ll bet. He never yells or anything, but you know that’s the way it’s going to be.

“That one looks better, I think,” he said now, confirming his choice with the salesman, who obviously agreed to anything the admiral wanted—meaning the tweed jacket, which I had put on. “How do you feel, Roy?”

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was a cool-looking sports coat, I had to admit. The only sports jacket I’ve ever owned was one my mom got me a couple years ago when we had to go to her baby sister’s wedding. It was from Robert Hall and didn’t fit very well. This one fit me like a glove.

“Yeah, I like it,” I kind of mumbled.

“That’s the one, then,” he said, smiling his approval. He smoothed the back of it. “It’s a good fit, don’t you think, Arnold?” he asked the salesman. “Even the sleeves.”

“Like it was tailored,” the salesman agreed. He was the kind of salesman who would agree with whatever the admiral said, I could tell that right away.

“It’s a good thing,” the admiral said, “because we don’t have time to have it altered. All right, then, shirts. Button-down. A white and a blue, I think.” He turned to me. “The blue one will be good for a more casual occasion. You’ll wear the white tonight, of course.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I nodded in agreement. It was his money; I was just along for the ride.

We waited while the tailor cuffed the pants. When they were finished, the salesman handed the admiral the bill. Admiral Wells signed it without even looking at the amount.

“Now we’ve got you properly attired,” he smiled, winking at me. “You’ll knock all the ladies dead tonight.”

“You’ll be sitting two places to Mrs. Wells’s right,” the admiral told me, “you’ll pull her chair out for her when we enter the dining room, and after she’s seated you will seat yourself. Are you clear on that?”

“Yes, sir.” We were upstairs in his private dressing room, getting dressed for dinner. Admiral Wells and Mrs. Wells both had their own dressing rooms. They had their own separate bathrooms, too. It was like being in a Cary Grant movie.

At least I wasn’t wearing one of those monkey suits. The admiral was all gussied up in a tuxedo, with a starched white shirt, gold cuff links, and shoes that were made out of patent leather, real shiny. They looked like ballerina shoes, I swear to God. He looked at me watching him getting dressed, and smiled.

“Do I look foolish enough?” he asked.

“No … I mean …” He did look pretty silly, but I wasn’t about to say so.

“I feel like a trained ape,” he said, “but once in a blue moon I have to do this, to please Mrs. Wells. Going formal is her idea of a good time, don’t ask me why. Generations of inbreeding, I suppose.” He looked me over. I was wearing all my new clothes. The only old stuff I had on was my underpants and shoes.

“We should have done something about your footwear,” he said, grimacing at them, “but your feet will be under the table most of the time. All in all, I’d say you look damn good. Damn good.” He winked at me like he’d done in the store, like we were sharing a private joke.

I was pretty nervous, but I was excited, too. I’d never had dinner with Admiral and Mrs. Wells before. Whenever he would bring it up it would turn out they had to be somewhere else, some fancy party or something. Mrs. Wells was always nice to me, but I had a strong feeling that eating dinner with me was not at the top of her list of have-to-do’s. That’s why I was really surprised when the admiral had told me, earlier that afternoon, that I was going to be one of the dinner guests tonight, and that it was Mrs. Wells’s idea. Mrs. Wells was with us in the study when he’d said that. I’d looked at her to make sure that this was for real. She’d smiled at me and said, “I hope you like your prime rib rare, Roy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I’d told her, “that’s my favorite way.” I didn’t know what she was talking about, but if that’s what they ate, it was fine with me.

We went downstairs. I followed the admiral around as he poked his head in the kitchen for a minute, talking to the colored cook about the dinner plans. She was wearing one of those gray-and-black uniforms like in
Gone With the Wind.

“That smells fabulous,” he remarked as he opened the oven door and stuck his head close. That’s what prime rib was, I realized—roast beef. It smelled great. I’ve only had roast beef a couple times in my life, it’s too expensive for us.

“Get that nose of yours out of my cooking,” the cook, whose name was Mary, scolded at him, laughing like they were the best of friends. “You’ll get your supper soon enough.”

“Not soon enough for me. I’ve got to do my dog-and-pony show first.” From the tone of his voice it sounded like they were sharing a joke, in a way that he’d never do with his own wife.

Mary looked over at me.

“This the boy you been telling me ’bout?” she asked him.

“Yep. Roy, come over here and say hello to the best darn cook in all of Washington, and Maryland and Virginia, too.”

“Oh, get on with you.”

“It’s the truth,” he told her. “Why would all of our friends be trying to steal you away otherwise?”

“Get on with you, Admiral Wells.” She was practically giggling like a schoolgirl, she was so tickled by his flattery. It was obvious they liked each other a lot.

It was the first time I’d ever seen a white person have a normal conversation with a colored person. I know that sounds weird, being raised in Maryland and all, but it’s the truth. It wasn’t the way I’d thought it would be, being in the same room with one and talking regular-like.

She caught me staring at her.

“Hello, there, Roy,” she said. She wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to me. I shook it. It was soft and hot, from being in the kitchen. “I hope you like old-fashioned southern cooking,” she said.

“He’ll love your cooking,” the admiral said.

“Yes, ma’am, I like it fine,” I said. I don’t know why I called her “ma’am,” since she was a colored person, but she was older than me, older than my mom probably, it seemed the right thing to do. Nobody I knew was there, they’d never know.

The guests started arriving. They were as old as Admiral Wells, some even older. The men were all dressed up in tuxedos like he was, or else in full-dress military uniform. The ones in uniform were all admirals or generals: each one had enough fruit salad on his chest to fill a trunk, while the women were all dolled up in fancy dresses, fancy hairdos, and tons of makeup. They wore jewelry, too; real stuff, diamonds and pearls. Nobody told me it was real, but I could tell.

“You look sensational, Sadie,” the admiral said to one of the women, “a picture of beauty.” He took her hand and kissed the fingers, like she was a queen.

“You’re the last real gentleman, James,” the woman answered, “even if it is absolute malarkey.” Talk about a thick southern accent! She must’ve been from Mississippi or someplace like that. “Your wife is the only beauty left. The rest of us make do with camouflage and girdles.”

He laughed at that, and introduced me.

“This is Roy Poole,” he told the woman and her husband, “a recent and valued acquaintance of mine. Roy is going to be joining us for dinner tonight. Roy, General and Mrs. McClain.”

I shook his hand and then hers—there’s no way I was going to kiss it, she wouldn’t have expected it anyway, not from a kid. She was wearing enough perfume to overpower a skunk—there’s no way I’d ever explain that smell on me to my folks. I’d lied like a rug already, calling them up to tell them I was spending the night at Joe’s, then having to call Joe to make sure and cover for me in case they called over, like if somebody died or something.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I said.

She smiled at me, kind of a blank smile, like she hadn’t actually said hello to a kid my age in twenty years.

The admiral greeted each couple as they arrived. They were all ex-military and their wives, all important people. He introduced me to one and all, like I was his new best friend.

“Why aren’t you in uniform, Jim?” joshed one of the men, who was himself in the full-dress uniform of a two-star Army general. “You like Ike, don’t you? You’re not a closet Stevenson supporter, for God’s sakes?”

“I like Ike fine,” the admiral answered, “but I’m retired now. I wore the uniform long enough. Let the men doing the fighting wear it. I’ll save mine for Armistice Day.”