Cutler 1 - Dawn (12 page)

"I knew you were headed for stardom," he said. He looked at Daddy, who lost his smile again. "You've got a talented daughter, sir."

"Thank you," Daddy said. "Well, I guess we all better head home and relieve Mrs. Jackson."

"Oh, Daddy," I said after Philip had taken my hand, "Philip is taking me to have some pizza. Can you look after Fern until I get back? We won't be long."

Daddy looked uncomfortable. For a moment I thought he would say no. My heart pounded in anticipation, teetering on the brink of disaster. Philip looked as if he were holding his breath. Daddy gazed at him a moment and then looked at me and finally smiled.

"All right, sure," he said. "Jimmy, are you going with them?"

Jimmy stepped back as if he had been punched. "No," he said quickly. "I'm going home with you."

"Oh." Daddy looked disappointed. "Well, okay then. Be careful and come home early. I just gotta check on how things are being cleaned up, Jimmy. And then we can go."

"I'll go with you, Daddy," he said. He looked at me and then at Philip. "See you later," he added quickly and followed Daddy down the hall.

"Come on," Philip said, pulling me along. "Let's beat the crowd out of here."

"I've got to get my coat," I said, and he followed me to the music suite. When we arrived, we found a small group of girls gathered around Clara Sue. I had forgotten what Louise had done to her coat. She looked up at me hatefully.

"This wasn't funny," she said. "This was an expensive coat, probably worth more than your entire wardrobe."

"What's she talking about?" Philip asked.

"Something stupid that happened earlier," I said. I just wanted to get away from all of them and their stupidity. Suddenly all that seemed so immature. I grabbed my coat and we left. After we got into his car and started away, Philip insisted I tell him all about the bathroom incident. As I did, he grew angrier and angrier.

"She's so spoiled, and she hangs around with spoiled girls," he said. "Jealous, spoiled girls. My sister has become the worst of all of them. When I get my hands on her . . ." He nodded and then he suddenly laughed. "I'm glad you gave it back to her."

"I didn't," I said and told him about Louise.

"Good for her," he replied. Then he looked at me and smiled. "But let's not let anything ruin this night, your night—your opening night, I should say.

"Dawn, you were so good. You've got the prettiest voice I've ever heard!" he exclaimed. I didn't know how to react to such lavish praise. It was all so overwhelming. I felt a warmth in my heart and sat back. It was wonderful . . . the applause, Daddy's happiness and Jimmy's pride, and now Philip's affection. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. If only my luck would spread to Momma, I thought, and help her get better quicker. Then we would have everything.

A number of students from Emerson Peabody came to the restaurant to get pizza. Philip and I had a booth toward the rear, but anyone entering the restaurant could see us. Most of the students who attended the concert came by to tell me how much they'd enjoyed my singing. They heaped so many compliments on me, I really did begin to feel like a star. Philip sat across from me smiling, his blue eyes twinkling with pride. Of course, the girls who came by all made it their business to say hello to him, too, and bat their eyelashes. Suddenly Philip looked at me with such longing.

"Why don't we order our pizza to go," he said. "We can eat it under the stars."

"Okay," I said, my heart pounding.

Philip told our waitress, who then brought our pizza in a box. I felt every other student's eyes on us as we got up and left the restaurant.

After we drove off, Philip decided we should have a piece of pizza on the way. The aroma was driving us crazy. I held his piece for him and fed him carefully as he drove. We laughed at the string of cheese he had to gobble. Finally we drove down his secret road and parked in the darkness with the stars blazing in the sky before us.

"Oh, Philip, it's everything you promised. I feel like I'm on top of the world!" I cried.

"You are and you should be," he said. He leaned toward me and we kissed, a very long kiss. Before it ended I felt the tip of his tongue press against mine. It shocked me at first and I started away, but he held me firmly and I let him continue.

"Didn't you ever French kiss?" he asked.

He laughed.

"I do have a lot to teach you. Did you like it?"

"Yes," I whispered, as if it were a sin to admit it.

"Good. I don't want to go too fast," he said, "or scare you like I did the last time we were here."

"I'm all right. My heart is just pounding," I confessed, frightened it would cause me to faint.

"Let me feel it?" he said, bringing his fingers to my breast slowly. But then suddenly his hand was at the bottom of my sweater, his fingers gliding underneath and coming up to my bra. I couldn't help getting tense.

"Easy," he whispered into my ear. "Relax. You'll enjoy it. I promise."

"I can't help being nervous, Philip. I never did this with any other boy but you."

"I understand," he said. "Easy," he whispered in a soothing voice. "Just keep your eyes closed and lean back. That's it," he said when I closed my eyes. He slipped his fingers under the elastic material and gently lifted it from my naked bosom. I felt a rush of heat just before he brought his lips to mine again.

I moaned and leaned back. Contradictory voices were crying out. One, sounding like my mother, demanded that I stop, that I push him away. For some reason Jimmy's angry eyes flashed before me. I recalled the way Daddy had gazed sadly at Philip when I had asked him if we could go for pizza.

Philip started to lift my sweater.

"Philip, I don't think—"

"Easy," he repeated, lowering his head so he could bring his lips to my breast. When they touched me, I felt as though I would burst with excitement. I felt the tip of his tongue begin to explore.

"You're delicious," he said, "so fresh, so soft."

His other hand began to make its way under my skirt. Wasn't this all happening too quickly? I thought. Did the other girls my age let boys touch them under their clothes like this? Or was I being the bad girl they gossiped and lied about?

I envisioned Clara Sue's hateful face before me when she said, "My brother makes girls like you mothers once a month."

Philip's fingers found the bottom of my panties. I twisted my legs away from him.

"Dawn . . . you don't know how long I've dreamt of this. This is my night . . . your night. Relax. I'll show you . . . teach-0u." He brought his lips to the nipple of my breast and I felt myself sinking back, giving in like someone losing consciousness. His other hand was in my panties. How do girls resist? How do they stop it once the feelings get so strong? I wanted to stop it, but I felt so helpless. I was drifting, losing myself in his kisses and his touch and the way it brought heat to my breasts and into my thighs.

"I want to teach you so much," he whispered, but just at that moment the light from another car's headlights exploded over us, and I screamed.

Philip pulled back instantly, and I sat up to straighten my clothing. We turned to see the second car pull very close to ours.

"Who is it?" I asked, unable to hide my fear. I rushed to bring down my sweater.

"Aw, it's just one of the other guys from the baseball team," Philip said. "Damn it." We could hear the radio playing in his friend's car, and we could hear the laughter of girls. Our precious, private place had been invaded; our moment violated. "They're probably going to bug us soon," Philip said angrily.

"I thought this was your special place, Philip," I said. "I thought you found it accidentally."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I made the mistake of telling one of the guys about it one day, and then he told someone else."

"It's getting late anyway, Philip, and with Momma sick . . . I'd better get back."

"Maybe we can go someplace else," he said, not hiding his disappointment and frustration. "I know other spots."

"We'll come back some other time," I promised and squeezed his arm. "Please. Take me home."

"Damn," he repeated. He started the car and backed away before his friends could bother us. They beeped their horn, but we didn't pay any attention. Philip drove me home quickly, barely looking at me.

"I should have come right up here instead of taking you for the pizza," he said, almost in a growl.

We made the turn on our street, but as we were approaching the house, I thought I saw Daddy and Jimmy rushing down the sidewalk toward our car. Drawing closer, I was sure of it and sat up quickly.

"It's Daddy! And Jimmy! Where are they going so late?" I cried. Philip sped up until he pulled alongside, just as Daddy got behind the steering wheel.

"What is it, Daddy? Where are you going this time of night?"

"It's Momma," he said. "The hospital called Mrs. Jackson just now. Momma ain't doin' so good."

"Oh, no!" I felt my throat close up and the tears come rushing over my eyes. I got out of Philip's car quickly and into Daddy's.

"I hope everything will be all right," Philip called out. Daddy just nodded and started away.

As soon as we reached the hospital, we rushed to the entrance, where the security guard came forward to stop us. I recognized him as the same one who had been at the emergency room when we had brought Momma in.

"Where you all heading?" he asked. He spoke gruffly, demanding an answer, and just like the first time, looked closely at Daddy.

"The hospital just phoned about my wife, Sally Jean Longchamp. They told us to come right over."

"Just a minute," the security guard said, holding his hand up. He went to the central desk and spoke to the receptionist. "All right," he said, returning. "Go on up. The doctor's waiting for you." He followed us to the elevator and watched us go in, still staring hard at Daddy.

When we arrived at the door to the intensive care unit, Daddy paused. The young-looking, red-haired doctor who had examined Momma in the emergency room was off to the side talking softly with a nurse. They both turned when we approached. I felt the lump crawl up in my throat, and I bit down on my lower lip. There were shadows deep and dark in the young doctor's eyes. Suddenly they looked more like the eyes of an old man, a more experienced doctor who had seen a great many more very sick patients. He stepped up to Daddy and shook his head as he came forward.

"Wha . . . what?" Daddy asked.

"I'm sorry," the young doctor said. The nurse he had been speaking to joined him.

"Momma!" My voice cracked. My tears were stinging.

"Her heart just gave out. We did the best we could, but she was so far gone with this lung congestion . . . the strain . . . it was all just too much for her," he added. "I'm sorry, Mr. Longchamp."

"My wife's . . . dead?" Daddy asked, shaking his head to deny whatever the young doctor would say. "She ain't . . ."

"I'm afraid Mrs. Longchamp passed away a little over ten minutes ago, sir," he replied.

"NOOO!" Jimmy screamed. "You're a liar, a dirty liar!"

"Jimmy," Daddy said. He tried to embrace him, but Jimmy pulled away quickly. "She ain't dead. She can't be dead. You'll see; you'll see." He started for the intensive care door again.

"Wait, son," the young doctor said. "You can't . . ."

Jimmy thrust open the door, but he didn't have to go in to see where Momma had been lying and see her bed was now empty, the mattress stripped. He stood there staring incredulously.

"Where is she?" Daddy asked softly. I embraced him around the waist and held on tightly. He had his arm around my shoulder.

"We have her down here," the doctor said, pointing to a door about halfway down the hall.

Daddy turned slowly. Jimmy came up beside him, and he reached for him. This time Jimmy didn't pull away. He drew closer to Daddy, and the three of us moved down the hallway slowly. The nurse led the way and stopped at the door.

I couldn't feel myself moving; I couldn't feel myself breathing. It was as if we had all slipped into a nightmare and were being carried away by it. We're not here, I hoped. We're not about to go into this room. It's a terrible dream. I'm home in bed; Daddy and Jimmy are home in bed.

But the nurse opened the door, and in the dimly lit room I saw Momma lying on her back, her black hair resting around her face, her arm at her sides, the palms up. Her fingers were curled inward.

"She's at peace," Daddy muttered. "Poor Sally Jean," he said and moved to the side of the gurney.

Everything in me broke loose. I cried harder than I had ever cried. My body shook and my chest ached. Daddy took Momma's hand into his and held it and simply stared down at her. Her face looked so peaceful. No more coughing, no more struggle. When I looked at her more closely, I thought I saw a slight smile on her lips. Daddy saw it, too, and turned to me.

"She must've heard you singing, Dawn. Just before she passed on, she must've heard."

I looked at Jimmy. He was crying now, but he stood so still, his firmly fixed on Momma. His tears ran down his cheeks freely and dripped off his chin. A part of him was fighting the show of emotion and a part of him was just letting go. The struggle dazed him. Then he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and turned away. He started for the door.

"Jimmy!" I cried. "Where are you going?" He didn't answer. He just kept walking.

"Let him be," Daddy said. "He's like my side of the family. He's got to be alone when he hurts real bad." He looked back at Momma. "Good-bye, Sally Jean. I'm sorry I wasn't more of a husband for you; sorry the dreams we started with never took shape. Maybe now you'll realize some of them." He leaned down and kissed Momma for the last time. Then he turned, put his hand around my shoulder, and started out. I wasn't sure whether he was leaning on me for support or I was leaning on him.

When we left the hospital, we looked for Jimmy, but he was nowhere in sight.

"He ain't here," Daddy said. "We might as well go home, Dawn."

Poor Jimmy, I thought. Where could he be? It wasn't right for him to be all alone now, I thought. No matter how strong the Longchamps were when it came to hard times, everyone needed comfort and love when he or she was cast so deeply into the pool of tragedy as we were. I was sure he was feeling the same deep pain I was, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out, as if he were made hollow and so weak and light, a gust of wind could wipe him away. He probably didn't care anymore, didn't care what happened to him or where he would go.