Galveston Read online

  I lost my nerve when I saw him, and was about to let go the door, when it swung out with a suddenness that almost pulled me through it. A chubby, curly-headed man I recognized as one of the players asked, “Is there somethin’ we can do for you?”

  “I—well, oh no, you see—”

  “I know who you are,” he said, and popped a wad of chewing gum. “You’re lookin’ for Roman. Wait here. I’ll tell him you’ve come.”

  “I only want to deliver a message,” I said stupidly.

  He was off and through the lobby without hearing my last statement, though, and I had a feeling it gave him satisfaction to see me looking like a little idiot. I stepped out on the porch and wondered just how many girls had come looking for Roman Cruz. How many had he flirted with for a while, then jilted when he was bored with them?

  Soon he came out, a scowl on his face, so I began by apologizing. “Look, I’m sorry to have interrupted. I was about to leave when that fat fellow came and pulled the door open—”

  “It’s all right. You’re here now. What is it, anyway?”

  “I’ve got to talk to you, but if you haven’t time I’ll meet you another time … if I can.”

  “What d’ya mean, if you can? It’s all right. I have time. We’ve been working on music for a benefit performance later this summer, but we’re just finishing. Come on around to the back, where we can talk privately.”

  He took my arm and led me round to the back side of the building, facing the shore. We sat down on a back stoop below a stage door I hadn’t realized existed.

  “Well?”

  “My father has forbidden me to see you.”

  “Oh, he has, huh?”

  “He says you have a questionable reputation in Galveston, and that I shouldn’t be seen with you.”

  “Quit staring down at your feet and look at me,” he said. “Have you been telling him we’re meeting?”

  “No, I don’t know how he found out. It might’ve been Nick, or someone else. James denies he told.”

  “No, I doubt it would be that kid. He worships you, that’s obvious enough. Hmm …”

  “Well, what do you say? Can’t we just go and tell my father how ridiculous this is? He’s a reasonable man—”

  “I’m afraid not, for you see, it isn’t ridiculous at all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, did you think I come here every summer and gather seashells during my off-time?”

  “I guess I never thought.”

  “Yes you have. I’ve let you know I’ve had a few girls here and there. I’ve even gotten in dutch a couple of times, if you want the truth.”

  “Oh, I see.” I wondered how far “in dutch,” but was afraid to ask.

  “Look here, if your father forbids me to see you, I guess that’s it. I don’t know what to tell you. Oh damn, don’t start crying.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I must seem like a stupid little girl to you. I don’t know why you ever bothered with me in the first place. But I’ve never felt like this about anybody else. Nobody.”

  “In your long and varied experience, eh?” he said with a chuckle, then added more seriously, “Nor I, Serena, nor I.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “Listen, you’ve got to understand something. I won’t apologize for anything I’ve done, to your father or anyone else. I’ve had no strings attached, nobody to answer to. And believe me, I never forced any woman into being involved with me. If we’re going to go on seeing one another, we’ll just have to be discreet, that’s all. Have you never sneaked about anything in your life?”

  “Not before this summer.”

  “You are lily white, aren’t you?”

  I raised my head and took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m probably not your type at all.”

  “You’re right about that, sister. I guess that’s what I like about you,” he said, and pulled me over on his lap. His voice became low and soft; he pulled my hair back and kissed my neck lightly, playfully. It sent chills up my back, yet it frightened me too, and I said, “You don’t understand about me. I’ve never … never …”

  “You talk too much. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “But I’ve never even—”

  “I know,” he said, “don’t worry about anything,” and kissed me hard on the mouth. If he would have kept at it then, I would probably have wrenched loose and gone running down the beach. But with true musician’s timing he pulled away, as though something had just occurred to him.

  He folded his arms and looked out toward the sea. His face was flush. “What do you want, Serena? Hm? It’s up to you. Lord, if you haven’t got me hamstrung. But with me it’s all, or none of it. So make up your mind and stay here, or get out my life for good.”

  I sat there for a moment, sorting out his words. I knew exactly what he meant, knew suddenly that one did not dillydally a summer away, taking an occasional kiss, a handclasp, and expecting Roman Cruz to be satisfied with it. Yet I also knew there was no thought worse than a summer without him, this or any other.

  “I could never walk away from you,” I said finally, afraid to look into his eyes. I felt his hand cup my chin and turn my face toward him. He wiped away two wayfaring tears with the back of the other hand, and looked at me for a long moment. “I want you, Serena, have wanted you from the beginning …”

  My mouth was dry. I nodded.

  I remember thinking, as he carried me inside the dark hallway and up the isolated tower stairs, that it wasn’t going to be as I had always imagined. If for no other reason than that he, Roman Cruz, had his own way of doing all things, it would be different than with any other man. I held him tightly as we spiraled up toward the door. It was a time to fear what was about to happen, yet it was a time, too, for holding close, for trusting.

  “It isn’t a thing to be rushed,” he said when we were in the tiny room and sitting side by side on a makeshift bed in the corner. And I thought, oh no, he’s going to send me back home after getting this far—afraid of soiling the reputation of a preacher’s daughter. But he sat without touching me and looked away. “You look upon this act of love-making as a surrender, a kind of obligation you always thought you would have, to the man who married and supported you, don’t you?”

  I nodded, and in that moment felt the stupid tears smarting behind my eyes again.

  “This is so silly, I don’t know why I always cry around you—”

  He took my face in his hands gently, and said with logic, “It isn’t quite fair that it should be that way, is it?”

  I nodded again, my mouth still dry as harvested corn, first yes, then no, for he had been so right in my assessment about love-making. My hair had gotten caught inside my collar, and he pulled it free and kissed it softly, and said, “Don’t be afraid, darling, or shy or embarrassed.…”

  He stood me up then, gently as though he handled a china doll, and found where the buttons began on the ill-fitting bathing dress. And when he’d reached the last one and moved his hands to open it wide, I grabbed his hands and said, “Roman, I’m frightened, truly I am.”

  “Hush, darling, you’ve no more to fear than I,” he whispered, and continued to shed the clothes from my body until I stood before him as a bride on her wedding night. Then he said, “By God, you’re even more beautiful than I expected,” and swept me up against him. Soon after there was the feel of the rough bed linens against my back and his own body, warm and strong, fine as a god’s, bending above.…

  Afterward we fell asleep under the square of sunlight streaming through the tower window, and I dreamed an endless dream of lying on the edge of the shore and having skeins of colored silk, reds and pinks and greens and blues, washing over me again and again.

  When I awoke and opened my eyes, Roman was raised up on one elbow, looking down into my face; not in a crooning, loving way, but rather detached, as though he studied me. I panicked for a moment, and my eyes shot down. We were both covered by the bedsheet.

  “What time is it?”

  “What di
fference? Time means nothing.”

  “Yes it does, because if anyone finds out I could never come again and—”

  “And you want to come again?”

  “Oh yes, more than anything—”

  “Good, then, come again tomorrow.”

  “No, I can’t come until Monday. It isn’t that simple—I could never get away on a Sunday.”

  I rose from the bed, as shy as before at being unclothed, and pulled my swimming dress from the floor. He went on lying there, watching me.

  “You’re very lovely, you know.”

  “Oh, I … it’s nice of you to say so.”

  “There are some things I never say out of nicety. Come back here and kiss me again. Why should you be so anxious to go?”

  I went and sat on the edge of the bed. He kissed me once, then pulled away. “No guilt feelings or anything?”

  “No, not right now. Only a fear I’ll get caught.”

  “The light of day …” he said, smiling. “Just a piece of information for you, Serena dear. Don’t ever feel guilty about what happens between us. It’s all a hoax, this demand put on people by society, that nice girls mustn’t ever enjoy themselves.

  “And also, you were wonderful today, so much better than I could have imagined, but you’ll be better in time, just as I will be for you. You needn’t pretend it was perfect.

  “You may be a little uncomfortable for a day or so, but it won’t last beyond that, and—”

  Why did he have to analyze it, bringing it all down to simple facts, indisputable things that could prey on my mind? “Oh, Roman,” I said, and buried my head on his chest. He didn’t reply, just stroked my hair and let me stay there until I was ready to get up.

  At the door, I turned and told him, “It’s going to be a long time till Monday, and how I shall loathe Sunday.”

  “Will you have to see that self-righteous prig, the organist?”

  “I’m afraid so, unless I break it off with him, which perhaps I may—”

  “Watch out, darling. Don’t be overly daring yet. Best to go along with your routine, to act as though nothing unusual is going on. If you think you can trust the boy, bring him along to the Fischer place every day. I’ll meet you there, and if the coast is clear we’ll come back here. No one ever enters this room except me. I have the only key.”

  “Not even the manager, or the professor have—?”

  “Only me.”

  “You must be quite important to have such a privilege.”

  “King has no choice but to put up with me. I’m the only star he has.”

  “You sound as though he doesn’t like it much.”

  “He doesn’t. But not every good musician is willing to put up with a traveling show, either.”

  “I suppose not. Roman, have you had this room every summer since—?”

  “Yes, indeed. This is where I bring all my beautiful captives and torture them, didn’t you guess? Now I’d better walk you down and see if anyone’s outside.”

  We went stealthily down the stairs, and once outside he looked around and announced it was safe for me to come out. “Go on, darling,” he said, holding my hands. “Be careful, and don’t ditch me now you’ve got me all tied around your finger.”

  “Roman, you don’t think me … easy, do you? I mean, that I just … with anyone … that I was just putting up a front?”

  “There’s no question,” he said. “I would have known up there, if there was.”

  Strangely, though there were bound to be obstacles confronting us and although what I was doing was contrary to everything I’d ever been taught, I didn’t worry over these problems as I walked back from the beach. I had an exhilarating sense of freedom that not even the sea had ever given me. It was as though all the frustrations awaiting me at home no longer existed.

  I should no longer mind all the hours of being pent up with Mother, if I had the following morning with Roman to look forward to. I could even endure Nick a little easier, now that Roman had made himself a definite part of my life, secure in the knowledge that, no matter what Nick let himself believe, we would never be anything more than friends. For I was now certain I would never marry Nick Weaver. If Roman left and never came back, and I must spend the rest of my life looking after Mother and attending church bazaars, an aging spinster having only the memory of love to sustain me, I would never marry Nick. He would not snatch my happiness from me. No one could take the morning from me, even if it were never to be repeated.

  In the afternoon I sat in front of my vanity and studied my face in the mirror. As a rule, I didn’t spend much time doing this, not like Marybeth, whose dresser was lined with exotic creams and powders, and French perfumes, but that day I felt as though I must somehow look differently. Surely my cheeks had more color, there was more light in my eyes. Was I really beautiful, just as he had said? I’d never thought of myself as beautiful, had even taken James’s notions of my being so as childish prattle. But to be told by a man one is beautiful, a man like Roman Cruz …

  Yet another disturbing thought occurred to me as I sat there. Suppose I should become in the family way? Marybeth had told me long ago it took only once, and had said something vague about “certain precautions,” yet I hadn’t paid much attention, never imagining I might be faced with such a problem. Now I wished I’d listened more attentively to her, asked questions …

  Of course I couldn’t discuss the matter with Roman. He’d given me a chance to back out. Now that I had chosen not to, he would expect me to be intelligent enough to know—or at least to find out—how to avoid this problem. If I even brought up the subject with him, he’d probably be put off, bored with my ignorance. And even if not, I’d be far too bashful to tell him what was on my mind. Oh, it was silly, I knew, but I just couldn’t …

  There was one saving grace, which dawned on me then. Often I’d heard women say that if a woman has trouble becoming pregnant, most of the time her daughters will be so afflicted. My mother and father were married almost seven years before I was born, and another six before Donnie came. So it followed, didn’t it, that I could not conceive a child any more easily than Mother had?

  That thought put my fears at rest. Assuming Roman Cruz were to go on wanting me (oh, please, God, don’t let him tire of me!), I could perhaps try to find out what Marybeth meant by “certain precautions.” Yet it all seemed so foolish when I thought of Mother …

  Later, after I’d finished cleaning my room, which I had done out of an urgent need to be busy, Dad knocked lightly on my door. “Yes, come in.”

  “Hello, dear Nan, how are you?”

  “Fine, and you? How’re things down at the church? Did Claire work on the garden today?”

  “No, I haven’t seen her all day till just now. She called from the fence to invite us to dinner, so you needn’t bother fixing anything. I said we’d be there around seven.”

  “Oh? Would you mind going without me? I don’t think I feel up to it tonight.”

  “Are you ill, Nan, anything wrong?”

  “No, I’m fine, just don’t feel like going.”

  “You’re not angry, or disappointed, about last night?”

  “Of course not. As you said, how serious could things have gotten between Roman Cruz and me at this point? What you said made good sense. Don’t worry.”

  “Good. I knew you’d see it once you had thought about it. But Claire will be disappointed about your not coming. It wouldn’t hurt to leave Mother alone for just a little while, I don’t suppose.”

  “I know. Really, I just don’t want to go.”

  “All right. I’ll stop by and tell her on my way down to Schott’s, to pick up Mother’s medicine. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, and he left, shutting the door again. I looked in the mirror to be sure nothing showed in my face. It was something I would often do, over the remainder of the summer.

  James knocked on the door at five o’clock, while Dad was sitting in his chair reading the New
s. “I’ll get it,” I said, anxious to get alone with James before he’d gotten in the house.

  “Well, how did it go?” I asked him as we sat on the steps.

  “As a matter of fact, it went well. I met a new friend—Tommy Driscoll. He lives down the street on the corner. His father’s an undertaker.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, he asked me to go crabbing with him early tomorrow morning. Gets twenty-five cents a dozen for the catch. He explained to me all about how he does it, letting down the line and so forth. Of course I’ll be back early enough to go down to Marybeth’s with you, that is, if you want me to.…”

  “James, that’s something I’ve got to talk to you about. How are you at keeping secrets?”

  “Foolproof. Even Mother used to trust me with secrets from Dad. You know, like surprises for his birthday, and that kind of thing.”

  “I see … that’s good. As you know, my father forbade me to see Roman again.”

  “Yes, although I don’t see why.”

  “Trouble is, I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with him—that probably sounds silly to you, but remember, you’re my closest friend and I have to confide in someone.”

  “No, I don’t think it’s silly. People are supposed to fall in love. Mother always said so.”

  “It isn’t a bit fair, what I’m going to ask you, but I’ve thought it over and there’s no other choice.”

  “You’re not going to let me go to the beach with you anymore, is that it?”

  “On the contrary. I do want you to go with me every time you can. You see, it’s my only hope of seeing Roman. I know it isn’t right, seeing him without Dad’s permission … but someday I hope to make him understand about us, and in the meantime … Well, anyway, Roman will come round to Marybeth’s to get me, and I’ll go with him so we can be together for a while. Do you understand?”

  “It might look funny if you don’t take me along, is that it?”

  “Yes, that’s part of it; if we’re to be honest with each other as we promised, then I must be honest now. Sometimes a girl needs to ask a favor of her best friend. But there’s more. I want you to go because Marybeth’s place is such a wonderful spot for bathing—whether or not I’m around—and you couldn’t get in there without me.”