Crazy in Love (9 page)

Saul went home a while later, after we both promised
each other that we would make lyrics the most important
thing in our lives until we finished the song. One thing we
were both sure of: we would have to come up with some
pretty terrific words to go with the wonderful melody we
had written.

After he’d left, I happily retired to the bathroom to wash
my face and brush my teeth. I was feeling really good,
about our song, about Saul, about life in general. I even
noticed that, thanks to Dr. Glass and his magic dermatolog-
ical powers, my skin was looking as creamy as an English baroness’s.

I was just about to climb into bed when the telephone
rang. It was so late that I figured the call was for one of my parents, so I didn’t bother charging out into the hall the way I usually did. Instead, I got under the covers, ready to succumb to my growing tiredness and mull over the events of the day.

So I was surprised when my mother came to my door and
said, “Sallie? Are you still awake? Telephone. It’s Rachel.”

I threw on my old turquoise chenille bathrobe and went
out into the hall.

“Rachel? What’s up?”

“Were you asleep, Sallie? I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I’d just gotten into bed.”

“Because I could talk to you tomorrow in school...

“No, no,” I assured her again. “It’s okay. Why? What’s
up?”

“Sallie, the weirdest thing just happened.”

“Really? What?” I settled into the chair that’s next to the
telephone table, prepared for some really hot gossip.

“Saul just called me and asked me out for Friday night.”

“What?”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing her correctly. Surely there was some mistake! Perhaps I was sleepier than
I’d realized.

“You know, Saul. The guy you introduced me to tonight.
He just called from a pay phone. He was on the way to the subway, he said, and he wanted to call me before it got too
late.”

“How did he get your number?” Although all my
tiredness had vanished, I was feeling dazed.

“In the telephone book. I mean, he knew my last name,
and he knew that I live on East Seventy-seventh Street.
Look, I’m as surprised about this as you are.”

“Well, what did you say?”

“Oh, nothing much. It was a short conversation.”

“No, I mean about going out with him Friday night.” I
was gripping the receiver so tightly that it was slipping out
of my sweaty palm.

“I said yes, of course. I don’t really know the guy, but I kind of like the idea of going out with him.” She paused,
then added a bit dreamily, “We’re going to the movies.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, that’s great, Rach. I’m very
happy for you. Saul is a terrific guy.”

There was a dead silence. Then Rachel said, “Oh, Sallie,
you’re
not interested in him, are you? I assumed that you
guys were just working on songs together, but if you had
something else in mind
...”

“Oh, no,” I assured her. “My interest in Saul is purely
professional.” I sounded so convincing that I almost
believed myself. But the fact that my heart was beating a
trillion times a minute was a dead giveaway. “I mean, he’s a
nice guy, and he is kind of cute....”

“Because if you want to go out with him, I certainly
won’t.”

“No, go out with him. He obviously likes you a lot. He even tracked down your phone number.” The hallway had
become a total blur.

“Gee, I’m glad you feel that way,” Rachel said, sounding all dreamy again. “Because I’m really excited
about going out with him. Sallie, how well do you know
him?”

“Not very well at all. Why?”

“Because I have this funny feeling that Saul is
...
I
don’t know,
different
from the other guys we know who are
our age. Remember our double date with Dan and Fred?”

“How could I ever forget?” I groaned. “That experience
has warped me for life.”

“Well, you know what I mean, then. Those guys are so
immature, so irresponsible ... and I have this uncanny
feeling that Saul isn’t like that at all. He seems so
...
so
stable.”

“Maybe. I don’t know him that well.”

Rachel sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to
fall asleep tonight. See, my mom was right. It’s just a
question of time before we meet nice,
mature
boys. Oh,
Sallie, I hope you start going out with somebody like Saul,
too!”

“Yeah,” I said glumly. “Well, look, I’d better hit the
sack. Big French test tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you in school! And Sallie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for introducing me to Saul. I know you weren’t trying to match us up or anything ... but thanks just the
same. I have this feeling that things are going to work out
really well for us.”

“Sure. Anytime. Bye, Rachel. See you tomorrow.”

That night it took me a long time to fall asleep. Maybe it
was because I was confused, maybe it was because I was stunned—or maybe it was because I knew I wouldn’t be
dreaming about mischievous grins and dark mustaches any
more.

Whenever I get upset or depressed
, there are two things I do. The first is to take long
walks around New York City. There’s no better way to
forget your troubles than by strolling around the Lower
East Side, for example, where Mott Street, the heart of Chinatown, runs parallel to Mulberry Street, whose cappuc
cino bars and bakeries carry you to Italy. Or Spring Street, filled with galleries and poster shops and tiny
bookstores that look as if they got stuck in a time warp and still think it’s 1968. Even my own neighborhood is fun to
poke around in. It seems as if every time I stroll down
Second Avenue, there’s some new store or restaurant that
didn’t exist until five minutes earlier, when it magically
sprang up out of nowhere.

The whole week after I discovered that Saul had asked Rachel out, I did a lot of walking. I also did a lot of eating,
my second way of dealing with bad moods. The rest of
Jenny’s cookies were the very first to go. After that I
became less choosey. Anything would do. Besides eating
and walking, I found myself avoiding Rachel. I pretended I had a big test to study for, when the only test I really had
was the test to see how many Oreos one person could
consume at one sitting.

It was Jenny, the cookie monster herself, who eventually
came to my rescue. On Friday evening, the night that I
knew Saul and Rachel would be going out together while I was left behind, she found me putting my jacket on around
seven in the evening, the dating hour.

“Where are you going?” she asked cheerfully.

“I thought I’d hike over to Ray’s and get myself a couple
of slices of pizza. That way I can indulge in both
eating and walking in a single outing.”

“I’ll come with you,” she offered, heading to her room
to grab a heavy sweater.

“I thought you were going to paint tonight,” I said, a little
cross. I’ve never liked the idea of being pitied,
especially by a thirteen-year-old.

“It can wait. I’ve lost my inspiration. Besides, a piece of
pizza sounds like a good idea. I love Mom dearly, but her
meat loaf is not exactly known as one of New York’s finer
delicacies.”

The two of us started across town, over to Ray’s.

“It’s a nice evening,” Jenny noted cheerfully.

“I wish it would rain,” I said, scowling.

“Maybe you’d like to tell me about it.” Sometimes
Jenny amazes me with how serene and well adjusted she is.
Suddenly I realized that even though her ears were not particularly
experienced, they would be sympathetic and possibly even consoling.

“It’s Saul.”

“Oh. I thought it might be.” She paused as we moved
aside to make room on the sidewalk for an out-of-breath jogger.
“I’d noticed he hasn’t been around lately.”

“We’re still writing our song for the contest. It’s just that ... well, he asked Rachel out. Tonight’s their first
date.”

“Rachel?
Our
Rachel? Rachel Glass?”

I nodded. “None other.”

“But she’s your best friend! Isn’t anything sacred anymore?”

“Relax, Jen. She had no idea I was interested in him.” I
sighed deeply. I had to admit that it felt good telling someone what had been on my mind all week. It certainly beat holding it in. Or trying to eat it away. “Look, the way I feel—at least rationally—is that Saul met both of us,
and he picked Rachel. It’s not her fault, and it’s not his fault.
It’s just ... life.”

“Hmm. It sounds like a tough situation. I’ll tell you one
thing, though, Sallie. I like Saul a lot. But I’d hate to see your friendship with Rachel jeopardized, over
anything. I
mean, you two are practically twins, for goodness sake.”

“I know. That’s what I keep reminding myself. And in a
way, maybe it was inevitable. Rachel and I are so much
alike that it stands to reason that we’d both be attracted to
the same type of guy. But you’re right. My friendship with Rachel can get through anything, even this. It’s too important
to me, and that’s all there is to it.”

“That’s the spirit! There’ll be a lot of men in your life,
but best friends are hard to come by. What’s that the famous writer Dorothy
Parker said? ‘Men are like streetcars; if you miss one,
there’ll be another one coming along soon.’“

We both laughed, and I started to feel better. Jenny was
right, of course; I’d never doubted it. Not for a second
had I had any intention of letting Saul—or any other guy—-come between Rachel and me. It would just take a while to get used to this whole thing. I knew I’d learn to live with it.
Besides, I still had Saul as a friend and musical partner.

I was still marveling over how rational and well-adjusted I was being the next day when I took advantage of a brisk Saturday morning to stroll through Carl Schurz Park, along the East River. Actually, I’m fooling myself if I pretend that I was merely seeking fresh air. After all, I was walking,
one of my two great escapes, and it was around the time I expected that Rachel would call me with all the juicy details of her night on the town with Saul. Well, I never said I was
perfect.

So there I was, hanging out with the joggers and all
the other people strolling around. I was taking in the
view, which is not particularly pleasant, since it happens to be the small factories of Queens. As I stared into the dark waters of the East River, I heard a familiar voice calling my
name: “Sallie! Sallie!” Actually it was more like a
semi-hysterical shriek. I turned around and saw Rachel
running toward me. I couldn’t tell by her contorted face if it was very good news or very bad news that had brought her out to Carl Schurz Park on this fine September morning.

“Hi, Rachel,” I said calmly, my arms spread out across the iron railing as if the park were my own living
room. “How did you know I was here?”

“I was just over at your apartment. Your mother told me
where to find you.” She was all out of breath.

“You’re certainly up and out early this morning.”

“Sallie, I have to talk to you.”

It was at that point that it became clear to me that the
news that had prompted Rachel’s dramatic histrionics was
bad news. I braced myself.

“What’s up?”

There was fire in her eyes as she stood before me, her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted into an angry frown.

“Sallie, Saul is Puerto Rican!”   

Was
that
all? By that point I was so used to that fact that it
was beyond my comprehension that anyone could possibly
be fazed by it.

“Yes, I know.” I wasn’t trying to be irritating; I just couldn’t help sounding matter-of-fact.

“You know? You
know!
Then why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you? Why should I have told you?
There are a lot of things people know about each other that
they don’t bother to go around telling the whole world.”

“Come on, Sallie. You know what I mean.” She insisted
upon maintaining that same pose. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. It was becoming clearer and clearer to me
that Rachel really was serious about all this.

“All right, I suppose I could have told you. But to tell
you the truth, I never even thought of it.”

“Well, maybe you should have!”

“First of all, calm down, Rachel. People are looking at
us. Second of all, what’s the big deal?”

“Why, Saul and I are from entirely different back
grounds...
.”

“You mean he’s not Jewish.”

“Well, yes….”

“Plus there’s the fact that being Puerto Rican is not
exactly the most stylish thing to be these days.”