Summer Accommodations: A Novel (38 page)

“White collection agency.”

“What? What kind of collection agency?”

“Open up, Diana, I'm here to collect a date, I mean a debt.” The door opened wide and Diana stood there, her hands on her hips. The frown that had drawn the corners of her mouth down slowly faded and a smile flickered into its place as she turned her head to avert her eyes.

“How's your back?” she said, a touch sarcastic. I smiled. When I didn't answer her she said, “Did you say ‘debt' or ‘date'?”

“I think I said both.” She was the sexiest girl I'd ever seen. Standing in the doorway, wearing a simple polo shirt and jeans, she exuded a stunning, effortless sensuality that rendered me helpless. Too bad it didn't make me speechless. “Remember? You'd said, ‘maybe another time,' so, there's no time like the present.” If I could have disappeared right then I no doubt would have, but of course I didn't, and reminding myself that nothing worth knowing can be taught, I forgave myself with the assurance I was embarking on my course of study about Diana and all of the Dianas of the world.

“Is your back acting up again, you look funny.”

If she was trying to bring us back to that pathetic night by the lake she had to be stopped. I was determined not to succumb to fear or any impulse to hesitate or be anything less than audacious.

“You know, it's really beautiful out here, why don't you come out on the porch with me or let's take a walk or drive someplace peaceful.”

“Don't you have to get back to the dining room now for the lunch meal?”

“As a matter of fact I don't, I quit this morning.” Her eyebrows flew up in surprise.

“You quit on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend? I don't believe you,” she said motioning me into her house. “Nobody quits on this weekend. They get fired sometimes, but nobody quits.”

“Well, Diana, as you well know, we Marines are not like everybody else.” That spun her around.

“You really are going to sign up?” I nodded. “You know when you told me that the time you came here with Ron, I thought you were just some Joe College bullshitter lying to me. I'm sorry, I don't know what to say, I apologize. Where did you go to enlist, Monticello?”

“If that's where the nearest recruiting office is we can go together, today.”

“Do you want a drink of something, a beer or something?”

“Sure.” We stood face to face in her little living room. I smiled at her. “God, you are something.”

“Yeah, that's what they say.”

“Uh uh, that's what
I
say,” I said, taking her hand. She looked down at our joined hands.

“What about the Marines, changing your mind?” She pulled her hand away.

“Hey, hey, that was you talking, I never said I wasn't ready to go to Monticello.”

“Just checking,” she said pressing herself against me as she had on the back stairs so long before,

“I'm just checking.”

“Well, a girl like you can never be too careful,” I said, reaching an arm around her.

I
n those days the future lay on the horizon sparkling like a glorious fountain spilling showers of hope in crystalline light. Back then I did not realize I had already walked into the future; that the future is always now, this minute, this experience.

That last weekend Diana became my future for three days. The U.S. Marine recruiting center in Monticello was closed by the time we arrived there. Diana had insisted on making lunch and telling me about her unhappy romance that had led her into Ron's path. Had it been open, and that would not happen for several more days with the next day Sunday and Labor Day following on Monday, I could have signed up knowing that at the physical I'd be rejected for my heart murmur, a harmless cardiac whisper that disabled me not at all but which my doctor said would exclude me from the Selective Service system. With that still undisclosed to Diana, and each of us needing the comfort of another's warm body, the weekend was everything I had wished for from a woman all summer. A gentleman does not give details. Suffice it to say it was and remains unforgettable.

When I returned home there was a letter from Columbia waiting for me. They had never told me there was still one more waiting list, the list of desirable alternates should someone drop out of the freshman class before school begins, and I was first on that list. Was I still interested in joining the class? While exhilarated and rejoicing I could not help but ponder if this was Abe Melman's magic, a lamedvovnik racing to my rescue at the eleventh hour. Was this the surprise he had forecast? I will never know the answer, but out of respect for Abe, even if his real name was Bernard, from that moment I have always tried to treat everyone with kindness.