Authors: Misha Crews
Her eyes rested on Adam. He must have felt her attention — or was it Jenna’s presence that he sensed? — because he glanced up at that moment. When he saw that Jenna had arrived, his whole being lit up. Midge could almost see love shining out of him. And in that instant, she realized that she would have to move him from “Interested” to “Uninterested.” Because whether or not he knew it, his heart would never belong to anyone but Jenna.
Adam detached himself from the men that he had been conversing with and came across the room to greet Jenna. Suddenly Midge felt that she couldn’t bear to be there when they spoke, that the emotion would be too much to take. Her heart ached: not for herself, but for Adam. Anyone who loved that strongly was bound to get hurt eventually, and Midge didn’t want to be around to see that happen.
She turned to Jenna and laid an impulsive hand on her arm. “Be good to him,” she said softly. “Try not to hurt him too much.” As Adam approached, she dropped her hand and smiled. “And enjoy the party,” she added, making sure that her voice was loud enough for him to hear. Then she turned and walked away.
* * *
Jenna stared after Midge, cheeks burning. How did she know? Midge seemed to take it for granted that Jenna would do some sort of damage to Adam. Was that true? Would she hurt him? God, that was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Jenna.” Adam was at her side, reaching out to take her hands. “I’m so glad you came. You have no idea what this means to me.”
His smile was infectious, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way they only did when he was especially pleased.
“You’ve been busy since I saw you last,” she said. “This place is amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks.” The two of them hadn’t exchanged a word since the Fourth of July, and that was five months ago. He gazed at her as if her face was an oasis and he was a man dying of thirst. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Of course I came. I couldn’t miss this.”
His expression altered slightly. “Where’s Frank?” he asked stiffly. “Parking the car?”
“He’s out of town,” Jenna spoke carefully. She didn’t want to give Adam the impression that she was harboring some romantic intentions, but at the same time she was glad that Frank wasn’t with her tonight. She didn’t want to examine the reasons behind that, though. “Are Bill and Kitty still here?”
“They left a little while ago. Kitty said she wanted to get home early so they don’t miss church tomorrow, but really I think that the jazz scared them away.”
Adam’s eyes twinkled, and Jenna felt her lips twitch in response. As if by mutual consent they paused to listen to the delicate strains of Miles Davis’
It Never Crossed My Mind
float across the room.
“Oh dear,” Jenna said. “Do they think the beatnik culture has intruded on gentle suburbia?”
“They could be right. Maybe I’d better hide the Kerouac.”
She looked at him with curiosity. “And what do you know about Jack Kerouac?”
“Well, I don’t live in a cave, you know. I read
The Town and the City
back in ‘51. His second book is coming out next year, I hear. Besides, Midge talks about him sometimes. Says he used to read poetry at this little bar where she and her college friends would spend time when she lived in New York.”
“Midge seems like quite a girl,” Jenna said neutrally.
“She’s the best.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let me show you the house.”
It was a remarkable building. But of course, she knew that already. The rooms flowed beautifully one into the other, with two bedrooms on the main level, and two more downstairs. Adam referred to the downstairs as the “lower level,” good description, since it was anything but a dark, dank basement. There was a secondary living room down here, with another wall of windows to bring the outdoors in.
“In most cases, the houses are built to suit the lots,” Adam said. “The windows are positioned to give the best view of the outside.”
“Sounds kind of like some of Frank Lloyd Wright’s designs.”
“Very much like them, yes.”
Every room was crowded with party guests, and as the evening wore on, people continued to arrive. The music went from Miles Davis to Elvis Presley and Little Richard. The dancing started, and the drinks flowed freely. Eventually Adam was pulled back into playing host, but wherever he was, he made sure Jenna was in eyesight.
It had been a long time since Jenna had been to a real party. She couldn’t count the dinner parties that Frank’s co-workers had hosted: those were staid gatherings with mild cocktails and civilized conversation. This was a party: hard liquor, loud music, heated debates with much emphatic waving of hands. The glowing tips of cigarettes traced neon lines through smoke-filled air. She had some dim recollection of Lucien hosting parties like this when they lived in Chicago in the early ‘30s, but it was too long ago for her to remember it well.
The upcoming presidential election dominated the conversation. As Jenna wandered from group to group, she struggled to remember what she’d read about the candidates and the issues. Lucien never had much patience with politics, and Jenna had adopted his lackadaisical attitude. Kitty and Frank were staunch supporters of Adlai Stevenson, while Stella and Max seemed to favor Eisenhower’s re-election. Bill always said he couldn’t tell the difference between the two, and that when his turn came to vote he planned to just close his eyes and push whichever button his hand landed on first.
“And what do you think?” one man asked Jenna, glowering heavily.
Put on the spot, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I think I’d have more respect for both candidates if they hadn’t mutually agreed to set aside the racial issue.”
The man stared, and Jenna felt herself blush. Why had she even tried to state an opinion? It wasn’t like she knew what she was talking about….
“Are you saying they should have made it one of the issues of the campaign?” The man was half-shouting to be heard above the music and the conversations going on around them. “We’d have another civil war on our hands! This country is not ready to debate the racial issue!”
Suddenly Jenna was very interested. “What’s to debate?” she asked hotly. “All Americans should have the same rights. There can’t be any debate about that.”
The man tilted his head to the side to take a puff of his cigarette. “Separate but equal. That’s what the government says.”
Joseph’s innocent face flashed before Jenna’s eyes, and she heard Maya’s mocking voice ask,
What kind of futuristic utopia do you live in?
She thought of Denny, who had wanted nothing more than to marry the girl he’d fallen in love with.
“Separate is not equal!” Jenna’s own voice had risen, but it had nothing to do with the noise level around her.
Suddenly a hand reached through the crowd and touched her arm. She turned, cheeks flushed, and looked into Midge’s calm blue eyes.
“Having a good time?” Midge asked. But before Jenna could answer, Midge turned to the man and said, “Barry, why don’t you go crawl back into your cave? The humans are trying to have a civilized conversation out here.”
Jenna half-expected him to explode. But instead, Barry — which was apparently the man’s name — just grinned and took another drag on his cigarette. “Oh hell, Midge, you’re ruining my fun! Can’t you see how pretty she is when she’s mad?”
“Get lost, chum,” Midge said, not unkindly. As Barry turned and lumbered away, Midge leaned close and spoke in Jenna’s ear. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE
T
HE AIR ON THE BACK DECK
was cool and damp and fragrant with the smell of changing leaves. Jenna breathed deep. “What time is it?” she asked. She squinted at her watch, but it had stopped.
“A little after one,” Midge said. “Things should be winding down pretty soon.” She took out a silver cigarette case and opened it, offering it to Jenna.
“No thanks,” Jenna murmured.
Midge tapped out a cigarette and lit it with a small silver lighter. “You don’t smoke?”
“I lost my taste for it when I was pregnant, and I just never took it up again.”
“Does it bother you?” Midge held the cigarette as if she were going to put it out on the railing of the deck, but Jenna shook her head.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Okay, then.” Midge inhaled meditatively and looked at Jenna through a haze of smoke. “So what was that in there? Are you involved in civil rights?”
“Everybody’s involved,” Jenna said evasively. “Whether they know it or not.”
Midge nodded. “You answered my question without really answering it. Nicely done.” She smiled and stubbed out her barely-smoked cigarette. “Look, let’s just cut through it, okay? It’s too late at night to play games.”
Jenna stiffened. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Adam is important to me. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
Hurt.
There was that word again. “Well, I don’t want him to get hurt, either.”
“Are you in love with him?”
Some part of Jenna thought she should be reprimanding this young woman for her impertinence. But Midge didn’t actually seem impertinent, just concerned. “Are you?” Jenna countered.
Midge considered the question. “I care about him. I’ve never let it get beyond that.”
Jenna looked away, feeling her stomach clench. “Lucky you.”
“I’ve never let it get beyond that,” Midge repeated, “because I knew, from the first day I met Adam, that some part of him belonged to someone else. And tonight I found out that the someone is you.”
“What makes you say that?”
Midge’s eyebrows rose. “I have eyes, my dear.”
Jenna wasn’t sure how to answer that. She considered several responses, some of them less polite than others. What she finally ended up with was, “I’m engaged to someone else.”
“Ah.”
“He’s a very nice man.” Jenna heard the defensive note in her voice but she couldn’t disguise it.
“I’m sure he is.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“I have no idea, actually. And let’s be honest, it’s really none of my business, except as how it relates to Adam. So maybe we should just leave it at this: When you love someone, you try to do what’s best for them. Even if that means walking away from them.”
Walk away. Hadn’t she tried to do just that? And yet here she was, back again. Jenna’s eyes abruptly filled with tears, and she put a trembling hand to her forehead. She reached for the railing, but she missed and staggered a step. “Oh, God, I think I drank too much.”
“Don’t worry, there’s a lot of that going around tonight.” Midge took Jenna’s arm and helped her into a chair. “You’ll be all right. Let me get you a glass of water.”
“No, don’t go.” Jenna grabbed her hand. “Just sit with me for a minute, will you?”
“Sure.” Midge sat down and held Jenna’s hand loosely in her own.
Silence grew between the two women while Jenna regained her composure. She felt embarrassed by her outburst and for asking Midge to remain with her. Noise from the party buffered the air like static. They could hear the sound of good-byes being called from the front of the house.
Jenna heard her own voice speaking, and what she said surprised her. “When I was young I was very much on my own. Isolated, I guess you could say. Then I met Adam, and Bud, who later became my husband, and all I wanted was to be part of a family. I threw myself into it, into wanting that. Adam went off to fight in the war, and while he was gone I married Bud, and I became really and truly part of his family. But now Bud’s dead, and I have my son to care for. He loves his grandparents, and they love him. We’re still a family. And yet now I find myself wanting to create something new — something bigger, I guess.”
“With Adam?” Midge asked. “Or with your fiancé?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
Midge squeezed Jenna’s hand, a sympathetic gesture that had tears dancing behind Jenna’s eyes once again.
“Do you really know Jack Kerouac?” Of all the things she could have said at that moment, Jenna wasn’t sure why she’d asked that particular question.
Midge laughed. “Not well, but I did meet him once or twice.”
“What’s he like?”
“Brilliant. Charming. Magnetic.” Midge paused, then a mischievous grin twisted its way across her face. “And great in the sack.”
A bark of laughter escaped Jenna’s lips. “Well, well. I definitely didn’t expect you to say that.”
“Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.”
“Indeed it is.”
They looked at each other, eyes glowing in the darkness. “Party’s almost over,” Midge said. “Are you going to go home, or will you stay awhile?”
Jenna spoke without hesitation. “I think I’ll stay.”
Midge nodded. “I had a feeling that would be your answer.” She didn’t sound happy.
* * *
The noise level dropped gradually, like water receding at low tide. Even the music became quieter, more subtle, as if it too were preparing the house for slumber.