Seems Like Old Times (22 page)

"I've been thinking about this a long time," she
said. "The greatest pressure to change to what might seem to be a more
prominent job comes from the outside--from other people’s expectations. I’m not
convinced it’s what I want to do."

"Then don’t move until you’re sure."

"That’s what Miriam said."

"And your, uh, friend in New
York?"

She dropped her gaze to her salad and pushed the arugula
around with her fork. "He said, 'Go for it'." She saw the surprise on
Tony's face as he quickly averted his eyes and concentrated on his salad. She
tried to explain. "He's very much in favor of doing all one can to get
ahead. He's a very successful man."

Tony reached for the wine to top off their glasses.
"Successful. I wouldn't expect you to be with anyone who wasn't.
Sort of a grown up Ken Walters."

She winced at the memory of the boy she'd promised to go
to the prom with. So Tony, too, must have been thinking of the last time they
went to a dance together. She had trouble finding her voice a moment.
"Much nicer," she said finally.

"I should hope so."

They ate in silence,
then
the
waiter took away the salad dishes and brought their prime rib.

She picked up her fork,
then
put
it down again. "Let's forget about New York and business and all of that
tonight. Let's just talk like friends--the way we used to do."

"That sounds like a good idea." His megawatt
smile sent all topics of conversation flying from Lee's mind. She had the
girlish notion she could sit there all night looking at his smile. But then
Tony began talking to her. He had a knack for conversing she’d always admired.
He could talk to anyone about anything at
anytime
. He
claimed it came from playing baseball--
that
he had to
learn to spend long hours sitting in the dugout or at practices with a group of
guys. They had nothing to do but talk and tell stories, and so they had to
learn how to do it in a way that was interesting, passed the time and put each
other at ease.

Tony had been a good conversationalist when he and Lee
were young. Lee had to learn to become one, learn how to soften up the elusive
politicians, publicity-seeking celebrities, and distrustful citizens involved
in newsworthy events with idle patter and simple questions, and then delve
deeper, move to tougher questions, hard-biting comments. When she was
"on," in other words, working, she was always verbally quick, and
because of that was often invited to be a guest on one of TV’s numerous
"talking-heads" political shows. With Tony she relaxed, without the
edge caused by constantly being on her guard or trying to pierce through any
subterfuge and double-talk. She let him carry the conversation, and he did,
easily and entertainingly.

They discussed Tony's ranch and how much Vic taught him
about making the ranch profitable, and he eventually got her to talk about her
personal life in New York, about her friends and how she liked the big city.

They talked about politics, movies, and even the San
Francisco Giants chances for winning a World Series again (nil, they decided).
Before they realized it, it was past eight o'clock.
Time to
go to the dance.

The feelings that came over Lee as they rode along the
familiar streets to the high school were so confusing and conflicting she could
scarcely breathe. The last time she was at a dance at the gym with Tony had
been prom night. Yester-year seemed suddenly so close, as if all the time in
between had vanished into nothing. She struggled to convince herself that it
was already a new
century, that she was rolling rapidly
towards forty,
and that the man beside her wasn't her boyfriend anymore,
but practically a stranger.

He turned into the parking lot and found an open spot.
Neither moved to get out of the vehicle, but instead sat, feeling
the moment.
In the soft light of the parking lot, she was sure that the
wistful expression on Tony's face mirrored her own.

"This car is all wrong, Tony." Her voice was
soft, wistful. "We should be in your big Bonneville."

He glanced at her, eyes dark and deep, then his eyebrows
rose and a saucy grin stole over his face. "We can pretend. I've got some
fond memories because of that car."

Yes, many memories. She laughed. "Hmm, maybe we'd
better go inside."

They got out of the car and he took her hand as they
walked toward the gym. Her stomach grew increasingly tense as they neared it.
Every step she took made the memory of the last time they were here that much
stronger. That was the night she realized how much she loved him.
Always before he'd been her "
boy friend
"
with all the light hearted romantic notions that went along with a teenage
girl's use of that term.
But as they danced the prom away, she saw that
the scraggly boy she'd known for three years had grown into a handsome young
man.
Her friend, her partner, her everything.
Love--it
seemed too small a word for the feelings that swept over her that night. She
needed a word at least fifteen syllables long.

"Ready?" he
asked,
his hand
on the door handle.

"Too late to back out now,
Santos."

He laughed and pulled open the door.

The gym was decorated in metallic blue and silver, with
big
hole
"45" records dangling from the
ceiling, and a cardboard cutout of a giant jukebox decorating one wall. A large
crowd had already
gathered,
a lot of people who
appeared to be in their forties or fifties, and a few who were scarcely out of
their teens. Lee was relieved to see that most people were dressed to the
nines.

The loud strains of "Do the Locomotion" nearly
blasted them back into the parking lot.

A ticket seller sat just inside the door. Tony reached
into his back pocket for his wallet as Lee opened her purse. "No," he
said to her, taking a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the
ticket seller.

She handed another twenty to the curious ticket seller.
"It's for a good cause."

As "The Monster Mash" played, Tony looked for a
table. "We'll sit this one out. God, I wonder if I know how to dance to
any of these old songs? Where are Gino and Miriam when we need them?"

Her eyes caught Tony’s and they grinned.

They no sooner sat, though, when the DJ put
"Runaround Sue" on the record player. Tony jumped to his feet.
"That's more like it," he said. "Come on."

He held out his hand.

"Oh, Lord!" She was suddenly startlingly aware
of what she'd set herself up for. She hadn't done "fast" dancing
since college. Tony's feet tapped to the music. She could see he was aching to
dance. It made sense. He was the best dancer she'd ever known.

She held her breath, feeling clumsy before she even stood,
and followed him to the center of the floor. Walking across the dance floor
helped. The floorboards reverberated with the heavy, steady beat, so that by
the time Tony faced her and took her hands, she was at least ready to give it a
try,

It took her most of the song, however, to get over her
awkwardness and to get her body to remember the way she used to dance years
ago. The pattern and the steps must have been engraved somewhere in her psyche,
though, because once she let herself really listen to the music and watch Tony,
she was able to follow his lead.

Tony was as limber as ever. He moved easily, as if his
whole body was attuned to the beat. She loved watching the rhythm in motion of
his body. She always had.

The disc jockey was merciless. Immediately, he put on
"Please Mr. Postman", a Motown favorite.

"Remember the calypso, Lisa? Let's try it!"

As soon as the song ended, Tony took off his jacket and
rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, but returned to Lee's side in time to twist
and calypso their way through some rock classics--the
Isley
Brothers' "Twist and Shout," Buddy Holly's "That'll Be the
Day," and Bobby Darin's "Dream Lover." Lee was exhausted, but
laughed and somehow managed to keep up with him. Being with him was like trying
to follow a comet. Neither of them knew the steps to "The Stroll,"
and tried to follow some of the older couples on the floor. As they nearly
tumbled over with laughter as their feet kept getting tangled up, Tony
suggested a breather.

They no sooner finished their iced punch when they heard
the
the
slow, dreamy strains of "You Send
Me."

Tony glanced at her, and the look in his eyes rocked her.
There was no need for him to ask. All night she'd wondered what it would be
like when the first slow song played, how it would feel to be in his arms
again. All night he'd wondered if it would be as good as the first time they
had slow-danced, how it would feel to hold her close to him once again.

She put down her glass and stood. He took her hand,
lightly at first, then his fingers tightened and he led her onto the dance
floor. He turned and held out his arms.

She walked slowly into them,
then
placed one hand in his, her other on his shoulder. His shoulder was thicker,
more muscular than she remembered.

He touched her waist,
then
eased
her nearer. She swayed closer. His arms tightened until his cheek rested
against her temple. The feel of his head, the way his body curved around hers
in the dance position, being in his arms, was wonderfully familiar to her.

Taut and sensitive, her body fairly crackled with
awareness of him.

He took one tentative step, and she followed, then another
and another until in some magical way, as they moved to the music, they melted
into one. She shut her eyes, swaying to the seductive strains of the music. She
felt the heat of his body from their fast dancing, and felt the dampness of
perspiration on his skin. The scent of his soap and after shave surrounded her,
and she remembered so many times being with him like this. It was like coming
home again, but this home wasn’t the cold, forbidding place where Judith lived,
this one was welcoming and filled with love.

He tucked the hand he held to his chest, and she could
feel his
heart beat
. She relaxed against him, her
eyes shut to everything but him.

His hand lowered to her hip, pressing closer to her and
the fast, erratic beat of his heart pounded through her as if it were her own.
"You smell good," he said, his voice husky and low.

"You, too," she murmured.

He pulled his head back, looked at her. His eyes spoke
reckless volumes, while his words tried to be light and joking. "You're
crazy."

"Yes," she whispered. But it was his eyes she
answered. Her gaze drifted over his face, different yet so familiar, so...with
a jolt she realized she loved the shape of his nose. It was smooth and shiny,
thin, with arched nostrils. She never before thought she could love the way a
nose looked, but suddenly, she did. "I am crazy," she agreed as her
arms tightened around him.

For the briefest moment a look more of agony than pleasure
flitted over him. Then he nodded as if to say, "Me, too." Crazy to
be here, like this, wanting her, loving
her, all over again.

She pressed her face against his cheek, lost in a medley
of emotions. When the music stopped, it hurt to pull away.

"Where Did Our Love
Go
?"
began and the question in the title resounded through her. It was like a knife
wound. Stricken, she turned and walked back to their table, trying not to
listen to the words.

He followed her and stood while she sat, still not able to
look at him. "Lisa," he said. "Let's go outside."

 They stood on the landing at the top of the stairs
that led down to the parking lot. She ran her hand over her hair, trying to push
loose tendrils back into her chignon. "It was quite warm in there."

"The breeze feels good."

"Excuse me." A middle-aged couple stood before
them. "Aren’t you Lee Reynolds?" the man asked.

"My name's Lisa," she said.

The man looked skeptical. "
But
"

"Give her a break," Tony said, taking Lee's arm
and leading her away from the two. "Don't you know all blondes look
alike?"

Embarrassed, the couple backed away, muttering an apology.

Lee did all she could not to laugh aloud.

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "I couldn't help
myself."

"It's all right. You did just fine."

He smiled at her. "Are you enjoying this, Lisa?"

"I can't begin to tell
you "
She began enthusiastically, then stopped. "Are you?"

"It...
it's
good.
It's..."

"Yes?"

He shook his head.
"Nothing.
Is it too cold for you out here? Evenings in Miwok--cold wind and fog, just
like always."

She folded her arms. "It's scarcely chilly at
all."

He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her
against his side. Someone swung the door to the gym open all the way so that it
caught and didn't close again--apparently others were also feeling the heat
inside.

She glanced back at the door, then at the man beside her,
and let herself lean against him, enjoying his nearness.

"It's strange to be here again with you, Tony. It's
as if seventeen years of my life didn't really happen, and I'm here, and this
is what's real..."

"Don't, Lisa!"

Startled, she hid her hurt. "It's not that I want to
have such thoughts. I can't help it. I spent so many years not letting myself
think of those days. And then I came back."

He touched her jaw, his thumb under her chin as he lifted
her face toward his own. Her pulse raced at his touch. The distant sound of
"Since I Fell
For
You" reached them.