Eleanor (14 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A
ubrey and Eric didn't join David's carpool, though they did eat at the same restaurant. The night of the dance, Chang's was filled with formally attired teenagers. It was one of the more unusual places to eat within easy commuting distance from the Masonic Hall, where the dance was held.

Karen had driven David to Eleanor's house at five o'clock. She followed him to the door with a camera. Eleanor opened it while Tabitha hovered behind her with a camera herself.

Before they were allowed to leave to pick up Brian and Jennifer, the mothers posed the couple against the fireplace wall for a hundred pictures. David remarked on Eleanor's stunning dress. At her mother's insistence, Eleanor had forgone the big puffy sleeves that had been popular in Canada a century earlier for spaghetti straps and a tight waist. Instead of the hoop skirt which she'd imagined, her mother had talked her into a long, flowing, slender gown that sparkled in the light. There'd been two of them at the secondhand shop, obvious wedding party castoffs, but they were nice, and one was nearly Eleanor's size, so Tabitha had little difficulty fitting it to her. The blue paisley-patterned shawl could be taken off to expose Eleanor's pale, satiny shoulders or worn delicately around them, showing off her slender neck without detracting from her gown. Eleanor was hard put to remove the shawl, even in her front room for pictures. She felt nearly naked in the tight dress, and barely recognized herself in the mirror after her hair was curled and styled, and Tabitha had done her eyes. She'd stared at her face, memorizing it like it was a new shape and then deciding she liked it.

She was pleased, more pleased than she'd imagined she'd be, that David liked it, too. He could barely contain his excitement and frustrated his mother, who demanded he look dignified and mature for the photos. Tabitha wasn't as concerned and snapped candids of him gawking proudly at Eleanor's outfit.

Jennifer had gone with lavender, a shade not dissimilar from Eleanor's. The boys of course were in black tuxes, a boutonniere on each lapel labeling them to their dates. The wrist corsage on Eleanor's arm was strange and heavy, but she loved it and tried to leave it at home where it wouldn't get ruined dancing. One look from her mother killed that idea instantly. All night, she held her arm close to protect it. She'd never seen rosebuds so small and so delicate; they looked like playmates to the baby's-breath.

The waiters at Chang's had fallen into formal character, and the entire restaurant had transformed from an upscale ethnic bistro for visiting moneyed tourists, to a dimly lit, romantic getaway for the town's children. Waiters presented the long menus with a flourish and stood by to answer any questions the diners might have. Naturally no one drank wine or spirits, but the waiter counted off a list of other beverages the kids might want and, without writing down a word, took their orders and disappeared.

“I've never seen this place like this,” said Brian.

“I've never seen inside this place, period,” said David.

“I have,” said Jennifer. “My mom took us here when my uncle visited. It's really good. We have to do it family style—that's what that big lazy Susan is for.” She pointed to a disk in the center of the table. “We order all kinds of different food, put them there, and then share, picking at them with our chopsticks.”

Eleanor had never used chopsticks before. The others all had, and David was best with them. After their hors d'oeuvre arrived—pot-stickers, whatever they were—David scooted his chair over and showed Eleanor how to hold the sticks.

His hands were warm and strong, and as he positioned the sticks in her fingers, he lingered a moment longer than required, cradling her hand like a gem. His touch, so gentle, so alive, was powerful and electric. Eleanor felt lightheaded.

“Well?” he said.

“Well, what?” she said. She hadn't heard a thing he'd said.

“Give it a try?” he said. When she hesitated, trying to recall his instructions, David reached out again, took her one hand in both of his and led it over the plate. He manipulated her hand, his soft fingertips suggesting movement, not forcing it, until the sticks clasped a dumpling.

“Now dip it in this sauce,” he said. “It's crap without it.”

She did.

“Now eat it, silly,” he said, laughing.

She did. It was wonderful.

They ordered a family meal. The management had a “Christmas Prom Special,” tonight only. The meal was hearty, tasty, and affordable. They drank hot tea. David encouraged his friends to drink it without sugar, but he was ignored by Eric and Jennifer, who thought it was too bitter. Eleanor drank it without sugar and found it savory.

Jennifer scanned the restaurant for familiar faces and measured the success or failure of each couple's evening by the expressions on their faces while eating.

“It's a science,” she said. “Hunger and kindness are linked.”

“What are you talking about?” said David.

“It's scientific.”

“Let me guess,” said Brian, “You read this in
Vogue?”

“Elle,”
she said defensively. “It's still real.”

By Jennifer's own logic and scowling brow, she and Brian were on shaky ground.

At six thirty, David's mother picked them up in front of the restaurant to take them to the dance.

Eleanor had eaten more than she'd have liked, but the novelty of the spices was intoxicating. Her usual fare seldom rose to grander culinary heights than macaroni and cheese casseroles or canned spaghetti sauce doctored with “Italian Spices,” from a plastic shaker.

The entire town of Jamesford pitched in for the Winter Dance. That was a great thing about the small town. Local artists brought new pieces to the hall to show off. Restaurants competed to give away the grandest door prizes, and there was a music try-out before the band was booked. Women's clubs had taken on the decoration, and local businesses had donated streamers, balloons, punch, cake, confetti, and a twelve-foot Christmas tree for a festive photographic backdrop. There was no shortage of chaperones. They arrived as couples and grouped up with other adults to admire the youth, reminisce, and every so often, when the right song played, steal onto the dance floor.

To David's dismay, there was no DJ, only a live band in western shirts and cowboy hats. The familiar twang of a steel guitar was the first dark cloud of the evening for Eleanor as David asked about the possibility of playing songs from a CD he'd brought.

Mr. Blake, the tenth grade chaperone, shook his head. “Give the band a chance,” he said.

The couples split up to explore the room, which was rapidly filling. Soon it would be a slow, civilized, and formal reenactment of the halls of Jamesford High in between classes, but with music and better clothes.

David found a seat for Eleanor then gallantly fetched two glasses of pink punch from a long table in the back. A thin slice of orange peel floated in her cup and Eleanor nearly picked it out before realizing that it was part of the beverage.

She took in the room. The dance floor was seniors and juniors only. No sophomore had found the courage to step onto it yet. The music was lively, but not sweat-inducing.

David pointed out people they knew as they came in, though of course, Eleanor had seen them first. She waved to Aubrey. Eric was wide-eyed and nervous, a cornered mouse looking for a sudden escape. When Russell and Barbara came in with Tanner and Crystal, David commented that Russell looked whipped.

She studied him. He wore his tux like it was a bear skin. He tugged at his collar and fumbled with his cummerbund. His patent leather shoes were slippery, and he slid and skidded on the tiles. He watched his feet and trailed two paces behind Barbara as they crossed the room to a table where Alexi sat drinking punch with her date.

“He's dangerous, you know,” Eleanor said. “You shouldn't try to provoke him.”

“I don't. He just takes it that way. Bad family or something, I suppose.”

Eleanor was surprised with David. He knew it had been Russell who'd attacked him on Halloween, knew he'd intended to hurt him as much as possible, but here he was pardoning him. She didn't understand.

“You know what would really provoke him?” asked David.

“No, what?” she said tentatively.

“If we have a good time tonight,” he said, brightening.

“So we shouldn't?” she said.

“Actually, in this case, I don't think there's a way in the world I can't provoke him.”

A new song began, a wandering tune. David stood up. He took Eleanor by the hand, bowed ever so much, and invited her to dance.

Eleanor had never danced before, but she was a quick study. She'd watched the other dancers and instinctively memorized their movements and mannerisms. She didn't want to look stupid. She knew she was being watched. David and Eleanor were the first sophomores to dance that night.

David slid his arm around Eleanor's waist and held her left hand up. “Just twirl,” he said. David took a step, Eleanor matched it. He turned a quarter and she followed. With each step he persuaded her body to follow. The music grew louder, and Eleanor realized they'd twirled across the entire expanse and were now under the bandstand. David chose to remain there, and together, they danced.

Eleanor blocked out the hundreds of eyes following her, and focused instead upon David's face. He looked happy. He had looked happy for weeks, but now, with her, he looked profoundly content. Before she could stop herself, she mimicked his feeling and lost herself in the dance.

When the music stopped, David signaled one of the musicians. “Got something slow and swaying?” he asked.

The musician nodded and called the tune.

From wandering to moody, the music began again. It was not a country song, but a haunting lament.

“This is the Cure,” he said to Eleanor. “These guys do a pretty good job with it.”

Eleanor didn't know what he meant, but as he dropped her hand and reached around her waist with both arms, she tingled.

It wasn't as much a dance as a rocking embrace. Eleanor found that the only comfortable place for her head was on David's shoulder. He nuzzled her when she put it there. She listened to his breathing and his strong steady heartbeat. She checked them against her own and matched them perfectly. She breathed in his cologne, smelled his skin, and picked out the mint shaving lotion he'd used that afternoon. Before closing her eyes, she noticed the tiny parallel cuts on his neck where his razor had stumbled. A sudden urge to kiss him there was barely turned away.

When the song ended, neither David nor Eleanor let go. They continued to sway to music in their minds until the band played the dreaded line dance and called for everyone to separate into a cowboy side and a cowgirl side.

“Let's sit down,” David said, clearing his throat.

He led her to a table where Midge and Jennifer sat alone. Eleanor felt as if the entire room watched her, though she didn't catch anyone staring except Mr. Blake, who wore a happy, but faraway expression.

“Where are your dates?” asked David.

“Bathroom,” said Jennifer.

“This place is huge,” Midge said.

They all agreed it was.

The dancers pranced forward and then back again, kicked up one heel and slapped the other with a palm before resetting to go again.

Barbara and Russell were in the line, though neither looked to be having fun. Several times Russell glanced at David, which made Eleanor's blood race. Barbara too stole looks at David, which made Eleanor's blood boil.

When the music ended, the dancers applauded. The missing boys rejoined their dates. Midge meekly introduced her date as Henry Creek. Henry was full-blood Shoshone, she said. His skin was the color of fine leather and his hair, longer than any girl's in the hall, was pulled in a tightly knotted braid. He didn't wear a tuxedo, but a studded western shirt and vest. His Levis were still creased, and his cowboy boots shone in the light. He wore a bola tie cinched with an arrowhead clasp carved from obsidian and surrounded by pebbles of turquoise. He shook hands with David, who introduced him to Eleanor.

“I saw you guys dancing,” he said. “You were . . .” He trailed off.

“We were what?” said David.

Henry made circles with his thumb and fingers.

“Uh,” he said staring into space as if the streamers overhead would tell him what to say. “You guys looked to be enjoying yourselves.”

David wanted to know what had taken them so long in the bathroom. Eleanor knew the answer. She could smell it on the boys' breath. Not too much for the average person to notice, not over the half can of breath mints they'd each eaten, but Eleanor knew they'd both had a drink of whiskey.

Another song began, and Midge took Henry to dance. Unable to hold off any longer, Brian too was led out onto the dance floor. David nibbled on an éclair. Eleanor watched the dancers.

She felt him put his arm around her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Doing what?”

“Being so nice to me. You know I'm not exactly the most popular girl in school. At least I wasn't until you showed up.”

“We're engaged,” he said.

“Don't be silly,” she said, happy he hadn't removed his arm. “You could have any girl in school you wanted. Even Alexi with all her money and Barbara with all her curves.”

David laughed. “Don't get all insecure, Eleanor,” he said. “There's not a person in town who'll remember either of them tomorrow, probably not even their dates. But you, you they'll remember.”