Snow Apples (10 page)

“Jack!” they called. “Come on, buddy. Join us for a beer. We can sit on the ladies' side, eh, Sheila?”

“She'll never pass for twenty-one,” said Jack. “No use trying.” He put his arm around me protectively.

“Oh, I don't mind. Just as long as you don't expect me to drink beer. I've never even tasted it.”

“Okay, you guys, but no horsing around.” Jack pushed open the door and led us to the darkest table he could find, one in the corner. I sat farthest from the light. The waiter didn't give me a second look. He gathered up the dirty glasses and wiped the table with a cloth that my mother would have held at arm's length. Then he set down two glasses of beer before each of us.

I managed to finish one. I hated the taste, but the Chinese food had left me thirsty. Jack drank the other one for me. By the time we left at closing time, I had eaten two bags of peanuts and half of Jack's potato chips.

“What I save on beer on her, I lose on the groceries,” Jack told the rest of them, but he was smiling.

Before we got to my hotel, he stopped in one of the darkened storefronts and put his arms around me.

“I had a really nice time, Jack,” I said, pulling myself back. “But I'm going with somebody and he's...kind of jealous.”

“No sweat,” he said, dropping his hands. “Want to go out for dinner tomorrow night?”

“No, I'm going home on the seven o'clock boat. But, thanks.”

“Okay, Sheila.” He raised his hand in a half-salute and started off down the street, whistling as he walked.

I watched him go. I liked him very much, maybe because nothing was complicated with him.

Most of Friday afternoon was spent at the dentist. Even while sitting in the chair, my mouth numb with novocaine and the sound of the drill vibrating in my head, I relived
the evening with Jack. Everything had been new and exciting—the sounds, the smells, the sights. Gibson's Landing was far away.

The nurse made up my bill. “Six fillings at two dollars a filling. That's twelve dollars.” I counted out the money. It was all I'd earned in the month of Saturdays at Dr. Howard's, but it was worth it.

At Gibson's Landing there was the usual Friday night crowd to meet the boat. I didn't see Nels from where I stood on the lower deck, but I did see Jean, a girl who sat behind me at school. She left the crowd and came over to the boat.

“Sheila, guess what?”

“What?” I asked, leaning far over the rail.

Jean looked around to see who was listening, then stage-whispered, “Nels was out with Gwen Hall at Roberts Creek last night. He took her home from play rehearsal. She told everyone at school today that he kissed her.” Jean had eyes that grew bigger the more she talked.

I felt as if I had been hit in the stomach.

“Oh.”

“I'd sure hate to be you, Sheila.” By this time Jean was standing on tiptoe, her hands clinging to the solid mesh wire that was part of the ship's railing.

“Why?”

“Arnie Olsen came back on the morning boat, and he told us he'd seen you in the Austin beer parlor, drinking beer with four guys...”

The boat's whistle blew. Jean let go of the wire mesh and stepped back on the wharf.

“I told him he was crazy,” she shouted at me.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“It's okay,” I said.

But it wasn't okay. I was sure of that.

A
LL DAY
S
ATURDAY I
wondered if Nels would call on me for the dance. If he did, he'd want me ready.

After supper I dressed in my new skirt and sweater. I had bought them in Vancouver with part of the money I'd earned at the Lawsons'. The skirt was brown wool with box pleats, and the yellow cardigan had small brass buttons. Nels had given me an enamel pin shaped like a leaf and colored the reds and browns of autumn. It was perfect with the sweater.

I put Vaseline on the ends of my eyelashes. My hair had grown out of the feather-cut. Nels said he liked long hair, and already it was down to my shoulders.

Four or five times I thought I heard Nels' truck, but I was always disappointed.

My mother, who was polishing the cook stove with a
crumpled newspaper, was still questioning me about Dad and Vancouver. She'd been asking the same things since I got home.

“Tell me, Sheila,” she said, as if it had just occurred to her. “Did your father say what he was doing that he couldn't even take you out for dinner?”

“No, Mom. I already told you everything.” Which wasn't quite true. I'd left out the part about him being all dressed up, nervous and in a hurry.

“Do you think,” she said, trying to sound offhand, “that he has another woman?”

“Mom, I don't know!”

But my mother wouldn't let it drop. She worried away, returning to it again and again. It was the same way that our dog, Pep, shook an old sweater, as if it were prey.

Was that a car stopping? I looked out the window. It had begun to rain lightly and was already dark. I saw a car's headlights on the side of the road, shining through the trees.

I found my new lipstick, Tangee Medium Red, and put it on carefully. There were only a few drops of Evening in Paris left. I pressed them on my temples, in the hollow of my throat.

“Do you know where my jacket is, Mom?” I rushed around. “Nels and I are going to the dance. I'll be home about twelve.” I paused at the back door. “Mom, maybe Dad had some business of some kind. Something to do with that job he wants in the interior.”

“I doubt it. Unless it was monkey business.” She rattled
the grate of the stove, pulled out the drawer of ashes roughly. But I was already halfway out the door.

When I got to the top of the road, I was out of breath. I made myself slow down. The truck was like a dark, crouched animal behind the rain-misted headlights.

Nels held the door of the truck open.

“I bet you thought I wasn't coming,” he grinned.

“I didn't know,” I answered. Was he making fun of me?

“Come on, don't stand there, get in.” He waited until I'd closed the door. Then, suddenly serious, he asked, “You want to talk about it now or later?”

“Now, I guess.”

We drove up the back road and pulled off to the side. The leaves were almost gone from the trees, and bare branches scraped at the roof of the truck. A wind gusted, bringing squalls of rain that lashed at the windshield.

“It looks like a Squamish. Wonder if there are any dead trees around?” I rolled down the window, stuck my head out to look, relieved to be doing something. “None,” I reported, “but it is a Squamish.”

The wind made my eyes sting. Closing the window, I sat back again and waited tensely for Nels to begin.

He was leaning against his door, and I did the same on my side so that we faced each other. He seemed to be in a good mood. His mouth was relaxed, his hands loose. There was a faint smell of whiskey in the truck.

“I took Gwen what's-her-name home on Thursday night.”

“Hall. Gwen Hall,” I supplied quickly. “Yeah, well, I guess so. And I kissed her goodnight.” He waited, as if I was supposed to say something, but I didn't.

“Wanted to see what it was like, being with another girl. Maybe I was missing something.” He looked at me. “Yeah, well, I wasn't...” His voice trailed off, then came strongly. “She's okay, but she isn't you.”

I didn't know what to say. I felt relieved, but I wanted to stay angry with him a little longer.

“There's no use pretending you're so innocent, Sheila. Arnie Olsen came back from Vancouver, and he couldn't wait to tell me about you and the guys from the boat.”

“But I didn't kiss anyone.”

“No, I didn't think you would. You've got to admit, though, Sheila, it didn't look good.”

“I know that,” I said. “I'm sorry, Nels. But really, there wasn't anything to it!”

He leaned toward me.

“Don't do it again,” he said, taking hold of my hand. “Okay?”

I pulled my hand away and faced the front of the truck. The wind was whining through the cracks.

“How about you? Doesn't it work both ways?”

“I told you before, Sheila, not to be too sure of me.”

“Sounds kind of one-sided.” My hands were tight fists at my sides.

“Sure it's one-sided. What's the matter with that?” He grabbed my hand again, this time pinning it down so that
I couldn't pull it away. “You know you can't stay mad at me,” he said, laughing now as I tried to yank my hand from under his. “Let's forget it, okay? Come here, I haven't kissed you for—how many days? Too many, anyway.”

He began to unbutton my sweater, then bent suddenly to kiss the top of my breasts. He had never done this before, and I felt a swift, sweet stab in my lower stomach.

I could see the shape of his head, how it curved. And the long line of his neck. It made me ache.

He brought his head up then and kissed me, his mouth opening slightly on mine until finally he pulled back and said, his voice unsteady, “If we're going to the dance, we'd better go.”

Was this the way he had kissed Gwen, I wondered? He switched on the headlights. The rain was sheeting down; it was almost like being under water. The wind slapped wetly at the windows.

By the time we got to the dance, the rain had slackened, but the wind was stronger than ever. It was a strong Squamish. It had funneled down between the mountains at the head of the Sound and would finally blow itself out past the Gap. Now it whipped at us as we ran from the truck to the hall.

I loved dancing with Nels; he was easy to follow. And it was wonderful to be with him again. No one cut in on us. It just wasn't done, not for a couple going together as we were. Nor did Nels dance with anyone else.

The only times he left me were when he went outside
to have a drink with his friends. He went out four or five times in the evening. Each time he stayed a little longer.

Embarrassed to be standing alone waiting for him, I went into the girls' dressing room. It was where we changed for basketball, and there was always a strong smell of running shoes and stale gym clothes. The room had a few hooks on the wall, a cracked and wavy mirror, a bench on either side. It was empty now as I combed my hair, trying to find a place on the mirror that didn't divide my head in two.

Then I saw the blur of another face in the mirror. It was Gwen Hall. She took a step backwards when she saw me, then changed her mind and came in.

“Hi, Gwen,” I said.

She seemed relieved, friendly. She flipped up her skirt and yanked down her blouse and then began to comb her hair, which was blonde and naturally curly. Her large brown eyes stared at me. She always reminded me of a yellow pansy with a velvet brown center.

“I hope you're not mad at me,” she said, getting out her lipstick, a poppy pink. “About Nels.” She put the lipstick on carefully, running the top of her little finger lightly around the outline of her lips. She worked her mouth. “I didn't go after him or anything. I knew you were going with him.”

“That's all right.” I found it easy to be friendly. I was the one Nels loved. “Don't worry about it.”

“He is nice! Though all he did was talk about you.” She turned to me. “Sheila, you're so lucky...”

“I know,” I answered, feeling privileged. Everyone liked Nels.

We left the dressing room together. Arnie Olsen was waiting for me just outside.

“You'd better come,” he told me. “Nels is sick.”

“Sick? Where is he?” Worried, I followed him down the short hall.

“Out back, in his truck. He wants you.”

We had trouble pushing open the door against the wind. An empty garbage can rattled across the back porch. The rain had stopped, but the ruts and holes in the parking lot were filled with water, and it was impossible to avoid stepping in them. Arnie came as far as the truck, then left me, hurrying back to the hall.

Nels was sitting on the passenger side of the truck, hunched over.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“What is it, Nels? Do you hurt somewhere?”

He didn't seem to hear me. The truck reeked of whiskey. I rolled down the window, but the wind filled the truck. Hurriedly I closed the window except for a crack.

“What's the matter? Arnie said you were sick. Do you feel like throwing up?”

He groaned and turned away from me. I didn't know what to do. Nels' face was wet with perspiration, and he breathed in short, panting gasps.

“Nels, I'm going to get one of the boys to take you home.”

He didn't answer, but turned back, putting his head down on my shoulder. I put my arms around him.

After a minute, I felt him stir, become restless. Then he lunged to open his door. I could hear him retching out on the grass.

He was still vomiting when I left to find Arnie.

Arnie was hanging around the back door. He seemed surprised to see me.