Fools Rush In
Page 32
“You’re just not cool enough,” Danny answered, grinning. I burst into merry laughter as Sam scowled at me.
“No, really, Dad, you’re a cop,” Danny explained. “You know, you’ll make everybody behave.”
“You better behave anyway.”
“Oh, of course I will. Please. You know I don’t do that sh—stuff. Straight edge all the way. Don’t worry about me.”
“I will anyway.” For a tiny second, Sam looked a little bit sad, but then he picked an errant weed out of his garden and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. Nice cover, I thought.
“Aunt Mil will keep an eye on me, right, Millie?”
“Yes, of course I will, Daniel,” I answered. “And Sam, just because Joe and I are incredibly cool and you’re not doesn’t mean—”
“Give us a hug, sweetheart,” Sam said, opening his arms wide. I leaped up and ran away across the lawn, shrieking with laughter, feeling about nine years old again.
JOE WAS MORE THAN HAPPY to come to the Lighthouse Dance with me. “Great!” he exclaimed when I called him. “Man, those things were fun when we were kids, weren’t they, Mil?”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Lighthouse Dance,” I told him.
“Really? How could you have missed out on that?”
Because I was fat and had acne and braces and would have jumped off the Sagamore Bridge before going. Luckily—or not—Joe didn’t seem to remember me back then. “Oh, I was kind of shy back then,” I answered.
“Well, we’re going to have a great time, Millie. You’ll see.”
I was excited, too. According to the guidelines the Lighthouse committee had sent me, chaperones were encouraged to dress up as well. Jill Doyle was going to be a chaperone, too, and she’d invited Joe and me to have dinner with several other couples before the dance. It all sounded very grown-up and fun.
I arranged to have my hair cut and colored again and had lunch with Curtis and Mitch in P-town afterward. When I got home, I called my mom and threw her the bone she’d been waiting for her whole life.
“Mom, I need a dress.”
“Millicent Evelyn Barnes!” she exclaimed in Nordstrom’s dressing room later that week. “Look at you! What a figure you’ve got, honey!”
“Well, I finally managed to lose some weight,” I answered modestly.
“But you kept your curves, you lucky thing,” she said. “Trish and I are just skin and bones.”
“I think slender is the word you’re looking for,” I said, blushing with pleasure.
Mom had me try on roughly a thousand dresses. The one we (she) picked in the end was, I had to admit, fantastic. Creamy-white satin, knee-length, with wide, 1950s off-the-shoulder straps and a curving, graceful neckline. The dress definitely made the most of my light tan and, uh, curves.
“You have such a natural beauty,” my mom sighed, looking mistily at me. Then she snapped out of it. “On to shoes. And we’re going to need a serious bra for that thing. Hurry up, honey.”
I didn’t have to work the day of the dance. Instead, I spent all day primping, just as I should have done as a teenager. First, a run for the healthy glow, then a boring but healthful breakfast. I vacuumed the sand out of my car and washed the windows clean of their doggy nose prints. Then I shaved my legs oh-so-carefully. Bubble bath with fantastic-smelling products. A manicure with clear nail polish, two coats. A long chat with Katie, then another with Curtis and Mitch, who cooed simultaneously into the same receiver. They advised cucumber slices for the eyes and lots of water.
“This is fun,” I said to them. “I never went to my prom, you know.”
“Really,” Mitch murmured politely, pretending to be surprised.
“You’ll be the prettiest one there,” Curtis replied loyally.
At five o’clock, I was ready. Joe pulled in promptly and came to my door, a single red rose in his hand. He looked—oh, magnificent didn’t do him justice. He’d gotten a haircut and looked more mature, more reliable than he did with the shaggy adorableness he usually sported. He was freshly shaved and grinning, dimples in full glory. He wore a navy-blue suit with a bright white shirt and blue-and-red tie.
“My God,” I breathed as I opened the door. “You’re beautiful, Joe.” I kissed him carefully so as not to mess up the three coats of lipstick I had painstakingly applied.
“You look great, too,” he said, handing me my rose. “Ready?”
We drove to Jill’s in my car—I hadn’t wanted to crawl in and out of Joe’s truck wearing the dress of all dresses, after all. Jill clucked and cooed over Joe and me and introduced us to the other chaperones as “the most beautiful people here.” I beamed. In fifteen short years, I had gone from fat girl to prom queen.
Jill’s dinner party was lovely. No one was ever allowed to be sad or shy around that woman, and her guests were lively and friendly. Except for one…
“Hi, I’m Millie Barnes,” I said, extending my free hand to an attractive woman in her early forties.
“Lorraine McNulty,” she said, taking my hand. “Fantastic dress.”
“Thanks! This is Joe Carpenter,” I said, turning to introduce my guy.
“Joe.” Lorraine’s features turned to stone.
“Hey, how are you?” Joe said. He looked at my full glass. “Millie, need another drink?” With that, he fled. I guessed the reason.
“Nice to meet you,” I said to Lorraine and followed Joe into the kitchen. He was gulping down some wine. “I guess you know her, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Old girlfriend?” I asked mildly.
“Something like that,” he answered. He finished the wine and then smiled at me. “Don’t leave me alone with her, okay?”
“Anything you should tell me?”
“Shit, no.”
I tried not to mind. There were too many of them to take offense. I’d always known that, I reminded myself. Besides, it was my very first big dance, and I wanted to enjoy it. I ate carefully, knowing the effect of my dress would be rather less with a big splotch of cocktail sauce on the bodice. I took only a few sips of wine; I was a chaperone, after all.
We settled into our dinner, chatting, laughing, having a lovely time, aside from the granite-faced Lorraine. Joe seemed subdued, speaking in a low voice, carefully not glancing at her end of the table.
“Well, my dears, I believe it’s that time,” Jill trilled after coffee and cake. We thanked her profusely and headed to our cars.
“So, Joe, you okay?” I asked as we drove up Route 6 toward the high school.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you seemed a little shaken up by seeing that woman…Lorraine?”
He sighed and glanced at me. “She was one of those women I kind of told you about, Millie. I was doing some work at her house, and she put the moves on me, and the next thing you know, she’s talking about leaving her husband and—”
“She’s married?” I barked.
“Yeah. Well, she was back then. I think she got a divorce.”
“Joe! You slept with a married woman?” I couldn’t keep the shrillness from my voice.
“Well, yeah, I guess. But she was the one cheating on her husband, not me.”
Sam would never do anything like that. The thought popped into my head, taking me by surprise. But it was true. While I wanted desperately to believe there was a secret, heroic side to Joe Carpenter, there was nothing secret about Sam’s goodness.
“That’s not how adultery works, Joe,” I began, my voice tight. But at his look of confusion, gave up. We were at the school, and I couldn’t deal with this conversation right now. As we pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, the kids were starting to arrive, the girls as bright as exotic birds in their dresses, the boys adorably awkward in their suits.
Joe took my arm and led me toward the school, whistling under his breath. Once again, he was oblivious to how I was feeling. I gritted my teeth and tried to shove my negative thoughts away. He can’t help how women act around him, Millie. But it wasn’t just how the women acted. It was Joe, too.
“Ready, gorgeous?” Joe beamed at me, holding the door.
Forcing a smile, I took Joe’s hand. He’s not perfect, I told myself. No one is.
The gym was festooned with streamers and balloons, and strands of multicolored Christmas lights winked. In the middle of the room was a model of Nauset Light, about fifteen feet high, with a real light going round and round inside it.
“Oh, look, Joe! A lighthouse!” It was so charming that I forgot my turmoil.
“Yeah, well, I hate to tell you this, Millie, but they’ve had that since we were here.”
“Oh.” My smile slipped.
We wandered around, waving to the other chaperones and kids we knew. Our duties were pretty vague; keep an eye out for drinking and drugs, overly intense making out, stuff like that. Be the grown-ups, in other words.
My nephew and Sarah approached us. “Hi, you guys!” I said. “Oh, Sarah, you look beautiful! Wow!”
“So do you, Millie,” she said shyly. “Hi, Mr. Carpenter.”
“Hi, Danny,” I said, reaching up for a hug. “You’re so handsome, my little angel boy,” I whispered into his ear.
“Thanks for whispering that,” he said, grinning happily. “Hey, Joe.”
“Hey, Dan,” Joe answered amiably. “You having fun yet?”
“Sure,” they answered in unison.
“Well, go have a good time. You don’t have to hang around and talk to us.” I shooed them away, swallowing around the lump in my throat at the sight of my nephew. I hoped Sam had been able to see Danny and Sarah looking so beautiful. I hoped he’d taken a picture for me.
“She called me Mr. Carpenter,” Joe said, jerking his chin toward Sarah. “That girl.”
“Well, Joe, you are almost twice her age. We both are.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Makes you feel old, though.”
“Thirty is not old, Joe.”
“I guess not.” He sighed. “Hey, are you gonna dance with me or what?”
I hesitated. “How about in a little while, when more people are dancing. I don’t see any other chaperones out there yet.”
“Okay, okay,” Joe muttered, looking a bit irked. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, all right?”
“Sure.” I watched Joe walk around the dance floor to the exit. He might be twice the age of some of the girls here, but that didn’t keep them from stealing looks at him. Yes, I was definitely with the prom king. A rather old prom king, but a prom king nonetheless.
Somehow, though, the rush of surprise and pleasure that I’d once gotten from being near him was absent tonight. The voice that usually defended Joe was getting a little quiet these days, and I was having trouble reconciling what I thought about Joe to…well, to how he was.
I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling a little awkward, standing there alone amid all the kids. Maybe I would go to the ladies’ room and give my bra a tug. Couldn’t hurt. I walked in that direction, careful not to twist an ankle in my high heels. As I glided cautiously, I spied a familiar figure…tall, lanky, graying brown hair. Sam!
His back was to me, and he was talking to another chaperone whose name escaped me, though she had been at Jill’s party. I stood politely to the side for a minute, waiting for them to notice me. Just as it became uncomfortable, the woman said goodbye to Sam and gave me a little wave.
“Hi, Sam!” I said. He turned around.
“Hey, Millll…” was all that came out. Sam stared at me like he’d never seen me before, mouth slightly open, looking rather stunned. His eyes traveled down and then up, and I couldn’t help giggling. I spun around so he could see the whole dress. His breath came out in a rush. “Wow.”
“Did my dad pay you to say that?” I asked, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Millie, my God.”
“Thank you. You’re too kind.” Even though it was just Sam, the thrill of being openly admired washed over me. “Okay, close your mouth. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t cool enough.”
Sam gave his head a little shake. “Sorry. Okay. What did you say?”
“Why—are—you—here—Sam?” I asked again, over-enunciating the words as if he were hard of hearing.
“Oh. Randy Lynch got appendicitis. Danny asked if I could fill in at the last minute.”
“Oh, great! For you, I mean, not for Randy. I just saw Danny and Sarah. Did you take lots of pictures?”
“I sure did.”
We stood there a minute. As the music pulsed, more people ventured out onto the dance floor. It was funny to watch; you could tell that all the girls had practiced for hours in front of the mirror, they moved with such grace and precision. The boys, on the other hand, danced as if they were being poked with an electric cattle prod, sudden, spastic movements of long limbs and jerking heads.
“Did you have fun at your Lighthouse Dance?” I asked, dimly remembering Trish primping much as I had today.
“Oh, sure. Did you?”
“I’ve never been to one before.”
“Really? How come?” Sam asked curiously.
“Because, dummy, I was fat and hideous and awkward and there was no boy on earth who wanted to be around me. Don’t you remember?” I gave a sharp laugh, irritated at having to revisit my gawky adolescence for a second time.
“No, really, Dad, you’re a cop,” Danny explained. “You know, you’ll make everybody behave.”
“You better behave anyway.”
“Oh, of course I will. Please. You know I don’t do that sh—stuff. Straight edge all the way. Don’t worry about me.”
“I will anyway.” For a tiny second, Sam looked a little bit sad, but then he picked an errant weed out of his garden and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. Nice cover, I thought.
“Aunt Mil will keep an eye on me, right, Millie?”
“Yes, of course I will, Daniel,” I answered. “And Sam, just because Joe and I are incredibly cool and you’re not doesn’t mean—”
“Give us a hug, sweetheart,” Sam said, opening his arms wide. I leaped up and ran away across the lawn, shrieking with laughter, feeling about nine years old again.
JOE WAS MORE THAN HAPPY to come to the Lighthouse Dance with me. “Great!” he exclaimed when I called him. “Man, those things were fun when we were kids, weren’t they, Mil?”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Lighthouse Dance,” I told him.
“Really? How could you have missed out on that?”
Because I was fat and had acne and braces and would have jumped off the Sagamore Bridge before going. Luckily—or not—Joe didn’t seem to remember me back then. “Oh, I was kind of shy back then,” I answered.
“Well, we’re going to have a great time, Millie. You’ll see.”
I was excited, too. According to the guidelines the Lighthouse committee had sent me, chaperones were encouraged to dress up as well. Jill Doyle was going to be a chaperone, too, and she’d invited Joe and me to have dinner with several other couples before the dance. It all sounded very grown-up and fun.
I arranged to have my hair cut and colored again and had lunch with Curtis and Mitch in P-town afterward. When I got home, I called my mom and threw her the bone she’d been waiting for her whole life.
“Mom, I need a dress.”
“Millicent Evelyn Barnes!” she exclaimed in Nordstrom’s dressing room later that week. “Look at you! What a figure you’ve got, honey!”
“Well, I finally managed to lose some weight,” I answered modestly.
“But you kept your curves, you lucky thing,” she said. “Trish and I are just skin and bones.”
“I think slender is the word you’re looking for,” I said, blushing with pleasure.
Mom had me try on roughly a thousand dresses. The one we (she) picked in the end was, I had to admit, fantastic. Creamy-white satin, knee-length, with wide, 1950s off-the-shoulder straps and a curving, graceful neckline. The dress definitely made the most of my light tan and, uh, curves.
“You have such a natural beauty,” my mom sighed, looking mistily at me. Then she snapped out of it. “On to shoes. And we’re going to need a serious bra for that thing. Hurry up, honey.”
I didn’t have to work the day of the dance. Instead, I spent all day primping, just as I should have done as a teenager. First, a run for the healthy glow, then a boring but healthful breakfast. I vacuumed the sand out of my car and washed the windows clean of their doggy nose prints. Then I shaved my legs oh-so-carefully. Bubble bath with fantastic-smelling products. A manicure with clear nail polish, two coats. A long chat with Katie, then another with Curtis and Mitch, who cooed simultaneously into the same receiver. They advised cucumber slices for the eyes and lots of water.
“This is fun,” I said to them. “I never went to my prom, you know.”
“Really,” Mitch murmured politely, pretending to be surprised.
“You’ll be the prettiest one there,” Curtis replied loyally.
At five o’clock, I was ready. Joe pulled in promptly and came to my door, a single red rose in his hand. He looked—oh, magnificent didn’t do him justice. He’d gotten a haircut and looked more mature, more reliable than he did with the shaggy adorableness he usually sported. He was freshly shaved and grinning, dimples in full glory. He wore a navy-blue suit with a bright white shirt and blue-and-red tie.
“My God,” I breathed as I opened the door. “You’re beautiful, Joe.” I kissed him carefully so as not to mess up the three coats of lipstick I had painstakingly applied.
“You look great, too,” he said, handing me my rose. “Ready?”
We drove to Jill’s in my car—I hadn’t wanted to crawl in and out of Joe’s truck wearing the dress of all dresses, after all. Jill clucked and cooed over Joe and me and introduced us to the other chaperones as “the most beautiful people here.” I beamed. In fifteen short years, I had gone from fat girl to prom queen.
Jill’s dinner party was lovely. No one was ever allowed to be sad or shy around that woman, and her guests were lively and friendly. Except for one…
“Hi, I’m Millie Barnes,” I said, extending my free hand to an attractive woman in her early forties.
“Lorraine McNulty,” she said, taking my hand. “Fantastic dress.”
“Thanks! This is Joe Carpenter,” I said, turning to introduce my guy.
“Joe.” Lorraine’s features turned to stone.
“Hey, how are you?” Joe said. He looked at my full glass. “Millie, need another drink?” With that, he fled. I guessed the reason.
“Nice to meet you,” I said to Lorraine and followed Joe into the kitchen. He was gulping down some wine. “I guess you know her, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Old girlfriend?” I asked mildly.
“Something like that,” he answered. He finished the wine and then smiled at me. “Don’t leave me alone with her, okay?”
“Anything you should tell me?”
“Shit, no.”
I tried not to mind. There were too many of them to take offense. I’d always known that, I reminded myself. Besides, it was my very first big dance, and I wanted to enjoy it. I ate carefully, knowing the effect of my dress would be rather less with a big splotch of cocktail sauce on the bodice. I took only a few sips of wine; I was a chaperone, after all.
We settled into our dinner, chatting, laughing, having a lovely time, aside from the granite-faced Lorraine. Joe seemed subdued, speaking in a low voice, carefully not glancing at her end of the table.
“Well, my dears, I believe it’s that time,” Jill trilled after coffee and cake. We thanked her profusely and headed to our cars.
“So, Joe, you okay?” I asked as we drove up Route 6 toward the high school.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you seemed a little shaken up by seeing that woman…Lorraine?”
He sighed and glanced at me. “She was one of those women I kind of told you about, Millie. I was doing some work at her house, and she put the moves on me, and the next thing you know, she’s talking about leaving her husband and—”
“She’s married?” I barked.
“Yeah. Well, she was back then. I think she got a divorce.”
“Joe! You slept with a married woman?” I couldn’t keep the shrillness from my voice.
“Well, yeah, I guess. But she was the one cheating on her husband, not me.”
Sam would never do anything like that. The thought popped into my head, taking me by surprise. But it was true. While I wanted desperately to believe there was a secret, heroic side to Joe Carpenter, there was nothing secret about Sam’s goodness.
“That’s not how adultery works, Joe,” I began, my voice tight. But at his look of confusion, gave up. We were at the school, and I couldn’t deal with this conversation right now. As we pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, the kids were starting to arrive, the girls as bright as exotic birds in their dresses, the boys adorably awkward in their suits.
Joe took my arm and led me toward the school, whistling under his breath. Once again, he was oblivious to how I was feeling. I gritted my teeth and tried to shove my negative thoughts away. He can’t help how women act around him, Millie. But it wasn’t just how the women acted. It was Joe, too.
“Ready, gorgeous?” Joe beamed at me, holding the door.
Forcing a smile, I took Joe’s hand. He’s not perfect, I told myself. No one is.
The gym was festooned with streamers and balloons, and strands of multicolored Christmas lights winked. In the middle of the room was a model of Nauset Light, about fifteen feet high, with a real light going round and round inside it.
“Oh, look, Joe! A lighthouse!” It was so charming that I forgot my turmoil.
“Yeah, well, I hate to tell you this, Millie, but they’ve had that since we were here.”
“Oh.” My smile slipped.
We wandered around, waving to the other chaperones and kids we knew. Our duties were pretty vague; keep an eye out for drinking and drugs, overly intense making out, stuff like that. Be the grown-ups, in other words.
My nephew and Sarah approached us. “Hi, you guys!” I said. “Oh, Sarah, you look beautiful! Wow!”
“So do you, Millie,” she said shyly. “Hi, Mr. Carpenter.”
“Hi, Danny,” I said, reaching up for a hug. “You’re so handsome, my little angel boy,” I whispered into his ear.
“Thanks for whispering that,” he said, grinning happily. “Hey, Joe.”
“Hey, Dan,” Joe answered amiably. “You having fun yet?”
“Sure,” they answered in unison.
“Well, go have a good time. You don’t have to hang around and talk to us.” I shooed them away, swallowing around the lump in my throat at the sight of my nephew. I hoped Sam had been able to see Danny and Sarah looking so beautiful. I hoped he’d taken a picture for me.
“She called me Mr. Carpenter,” Joe said, jerking his chin toward Sarah. “That girl.”
“Well, Joe, you are almost twice her age. We both are.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Makes you feel old, though.”
“Thirty is not old, Joe.”
“I guess not.” He sighed. “Hey, are you gonna dance with me or what?”
I hesitated. “How about in a little while, when more people are dancing. I don’t see any other chaperones out there yet.”
“Okay, okay,” Joe muttered, looking a bit irked. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, all right?”
“Sure.” I watched Joe walk around the dance floor to the exit. He might be twice the age of some of the girls here, but that didn’t keep them from stealing looks at him. Yes, I was definitely with the prom king. A rather old prom king, but a prom king nonetheless.
Somehow, though, the rush of surprise and pleasure that I’d once gotten from being near him was absent tonight. The voice that usually defended Joe was getting a little quiet these days, and I was having trouble reconciling what I thought about Joe to…well, to how he was.
I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling a little awkward, standing there alone amid all the kids. Maybe I would go to the ladies’ room and give my bra a tug. Couldn’t hurt. I walked in that direction, careful not to twist an ankle in my high heels. As I glided cautiously, I spied a familiar figure…tall, lanky, graying brown hair. Sam!
His back was to me, and he was talking to another chaperone whose name escaped me, though she had been at Jill’s party. I stood politely to the side for a minute, waiting for them to notice me. Just as it became uncomfortable, the woman said goodbye to Sam and gave me a little wave.
“Hi, Sam!” I said. He turned around.
“Hey, Millll…” was all that came out. Sam stared at me like he’d never seen me before, mouth slightly open, looking rather stunned. His eyes traveled down and then up, and I couldn’t help giggling. I spun around so he could see the whole dress. His breath came out in a rush. “Wow.”
“Did my dad pay you to say that?” I asked, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Millie, my God.”
“Thank you. You’re too kind.” Even though it was just Sam, the thrill of being openly admired washed over me. “Okay, close your mouth. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t cool enough.”
Sam gave his head a little shake. “Sorry. Okay. What did you say?”
“Why—are—you—here—Sam?” I asked again, over-enunciating the words as if he were hard of hearing.
“Oh. Randy Lynch got appendicitis. Danny asked if I could fill in at the last minute.”
“Oh, great! For you, I mean, not for Randy. I just saw Danny and Sarah. Did you take lots of pictures?”
“I sure did.”
We stood there a minute. As the music pulsed, more people ventured out onto the dance floor. It was funny to watch; you could tell that all the girls had practiced for hours in front of the mirror, they moved with such grace and precision. The boys, on the other hand, danced as if they were being poked with an electric cattle prod, sudden, spastic movements of long limbs and jerking heads.
“Did you have fun at your Lighthouse Dance?” I asked, dimly remembering Trish primping much as I had today.
“Oh, sure. Did you?”
“I’ve never been to one before.”
“Really? How come?” Sam asked curiously.
“Because, dummy, I was fat and hideous and awkward and there was no boy on earth who wanted to be around me. Don’t you remember?” I gave a sharp laugh, irritated at having to revisit my gawky adolescence for a second time.
