Worlds Apart (37 page)

“Hamlet, right?” said Delancey.

I was startled by her voice, and didn’t realize she was standing right behind me.

“That’s right,” I said. “Nice party. Thank you for inviting us.”

“It’s my pleasure, thank you for coming. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d have no one here to talk to, no one here to quote Hamlet.” Delancey glanced at the party, and seemed lonely to be apart from the crowd.

“It’s for a good cause….I’m sure we are really helping out someone by being here, even though we can’t contribute much. What exactly is the fundraiser for?” I inquired.

“It’s a fundraiser to restore Ellis Island and make it into a museum,” Delancey said proudly.

“Ellis Island has been closed for so long, why not leave it closed or why doesn’t the federal government restore it?”

“Ellis Island opened in 1892 and has been closed since 1954. Twenty million passed through Ellis Island as immigrants. Millions of people in America, that is if they are of European decent, can trace their roots to an ancestor coming and stopping off at Ellis Island. Imagine, you get on a ship across the world, and you are waiting to get to America at Ellis Island. Diseases, death, poor conditions, medical inspections, all kinds of stuff, and then you were either sent back or allowed to come ashore to New York. It is too important a place to forget and ignore. If we wanted it screwed up completely, then yes, we would let the government handle it.” She laughed, exposing the fire behind her eyes, and a passion for making things right. She really would make an excellent lawyer. “Actually, the president asked for this to be completed with private donations. Lee Iacocca, the chairman of Chrysler, is heading up the fundraising across the country. This is just a party to thank some of the donors. Ellis Island is going to open next year, and a great museum will open to the public.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Museums are for the deceased. Do we really need another museum in New York?”

“It’s too much a part of the world’s history not to make it into a museum.”

I decided to change the topic. The last thing I wanted was an argument.

“Who’s house is this?”

“It’s my mother and stepfather’s. They were married about four years ago. This is where I live on the weekends.”

“It’s a beautiful house, some property.”

“Don’t be intimidated by it. It’s just a house, although it’s nice to have ten acres,” she said genuinely.

Delancey summarized that her stepfather was a Wall Street money manager for mutual funds. She offered to have her stepfather, Bruce, tell me more. Awkward silence filled the air between us. We both glanced down at the grass.

“I don’t have many friends at Stanton,” she said.

“I find that hard to believe; you seem so popular.”

“It’s true, there’s no one that I really hang out with or can feel comfortable with. Except for you. I can’t seem to relate to other teenagers…but for some reason, I feel I can have a real conversation with you.” She looked down, feeling shy, or maybe just being coy.

“So why are you hanging out by yourself behind the cabana? In the dark?” she asked.

“You know, I really like it back here. I’m actually a big fan, an aficionado of cabanas. It’s going to be my major in college – I will major in the design of cabanas.” We both giggled at my sarcastic joke.

“You don’t have to feel uncomfortable or awkward. These are really nice people. I know it’s probably not your scene; it’s not my scene either, but they are harmless.” I couldn’t help but stare at her lips.

“What gave it away, was it my suit?” I asked.

“I like your suit; it reminds me of my trip to Greece a few years ago. We had a bartender that had a similar one.” We both laughed again. She drank my wine as I held the glass.

“So what’s the deal with you and Svetlana? Is she here? Did you bring her? Its funny…but she doesn’t really strike me as your type.”

“No. I told you she, there is nothing between us. And what exactly is my type?” I asked.

“You are more cerebral, more bohemian, and I think you would like someone…uh…a little less developed, less busty, more demure…with an American accent.” She was holding back her laughter, her eyes gleaming.

“How come you know so much about me?” I was astonished at her assessment.

“I always thought that you were interesting, and I guess I just paid attention. But, now that you are with Svetlana, I guess I really don’t know anything about you.” She glanced down.

“There’s really nothing going on between Svetlana and me. We were friendly, but nothing serious. Its...well I can’t get into it, but there is really nothing. I never even asked her to the dance, she just kind of invited herself to go with me. Don’t believe Sam. She and I recently became friendly over the incident with Mr. Zoose,” I tried to reassure her.

“I did hear about that. I thought her Russian accent turned you on, as opposed to my American accent. But I have to admit, I was a little jealous, I may even have thought that I had lost the cold war,” Delancey was grinning.

“Well you didn’t. And you don’t have an American accent Delancey…you have a Long Island accent….everything west of us is America…this is different, you’re different…..” The wine was kicking in, and I was feeling much more at ease.

Delancey hit me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t tease me about my Long Island accent.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I love your Long Island accent.”

“You lllovvve my acccentt?” she said, slurring her speech. She didn’t need any more wine. Our eyes met and she held my hand. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. We were alone, behind the cabana, in the dark, and I leaned in, put my other hand on her neck, and kissed her softly. She responded in kind, and we kissed for several minutes. I felt electricity between us, and the warmth of her skin against mine, through our clothing. I moved my hand softly up and down, caressing the curvature of her back. She was awesome to touch.

She looked at me and smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“You’re a great kisser,” I said, “and great to kiss.”

She said that she really needed someone to be close to. I would have liked to be that someone, but reminded her our time was limited since we were graduating in a few months. She said that it was fine, for as long or as short a time period as we had. “There is life after high school, you know,” she whispered in my ear. “We can be friends for all eternity.”

“Is that what you want, just to be friends?” I asked.

“I don’t want to think about the future or about categories of friendship. I just want to spend some time with you here, under the stars.”

I kissed her again and we embraced. If there was ever a moment in my life that wished I could freeze forever, if there was ever an instance that I hoped could endure until the end of time, this would be that moment. I held her closer, feeling every breath she took. I didn’t want to let go, and we stayed in the embrace for a minute or two.

“What about Svetlana?” she asked.

“What about her? Are you jealous?”

“Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall,” she said, giggling like a little girl.

“It’s done. But I am probably still going to the dance with her. I might be obligated,” I told her.

“You still have to dance with me,” she said eagerly.

“Absolutely!” I shouted.

We went back to the party, and I felt more comfortable. And it wasn’t just from the wine. I shook hands with a few people, even saw an artist’s rendering of Ellis Island depicting its restored appearance. The building still seemed eerie, even in the painting, which was an optimistic vision. I met Delancey’s step dad, by way formal introduction, and she told him that I had some questions on his line of work.

“Well, what can I answer for you, besides how much money I make?” Bruce Yuridis laughed, shaking my hand.

“Don’t worry sir, I would never ask anything like that. I’m curious…what did you study in college, and how did you end up in your field?” I asked as politely as I could.

“I went to a state college, and studied English and history. It’s a long story. After graduating, a friend told me about an opening at his financial firm. They needed someone to write brochures, and draft and edit letters and prospectuses to clients. I signed on, and gradually learned more about the financial side of the business. When an opening came up in finance, I interviewed and got the job.” Bruce seemed happy to tell the story.

“Wow, I would’ve guessed that you majored in economics or finance or something business related,” I said.

Bruce had dark hair, and a stocky build. He wore a blue blazer, white shirt, camel colored dress pants, and no tie. He walked away, and motioned for me to follow, greeting various people along the way. He led me into the house. We made a left off the kitchen, and headed down a long hallway filled with pictures of Bruce with famous people. We arrived in his office, a medium sized room, with marble floors, and dark mahogany finished walls. The shelves held old leather bound books. On the far wall was a refinished English shield, the kind that knights took into battle. Near to the window was a large antique desk, and some pictures from his college days.

Bruce sat down in a hunter green leather chair that had an unusually high back. He swiveled around, removed a cigar from his humidor, and lit up. He offered me a Cohiba, but I declined. Bruce poured two glasses of scotch, and placed one in my hand. This time I could not decline. We clicked glasses, and he said “Salute.”

I drank the scotch, not thinking twice. The scotch was smooth, and did not have an after burn.

“How do you like it?” Bruce asked.

“It’s good. I’m not much of a scotch drinker,” I said.

“I should hope so, its $200 a bottle. Single malt, 25 year old scotch that I brought over from Scotland.”

“Its the best drink I’d ever had.” I remarked gratefully.

“That’s more like it. So… you are a Stanton man?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I am. I’ll be graduating in June,” I said proudly.

“I grew up on Long Island, but I know the Stanton reputation. My father went there.” Bruce paused, taking another sip. “I grew up in Massapequa, in a middle class neighborhood. Where are you from?”

“Astoria, Queens.”

“Sure…I know Astoria, lots of great Greek cafes and restaurants. Gotta love that souvlaki. Now I understand your outfit.” We both laughed.

I sipped more of the scotch and it went down smoother. My posture was relaxing, and I was feeling intoxicated and was slouching in my chair. I glanced around the room. He had various antiquities. I saw an antique Grecian urn on a pedestal, and a marble bust, as well as old paintings of mythological scenes. On the far right corner, he had a statue of a man’s body with a bull’s head on it.

“You buzzed yet?” he asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“I know you never actually asked, but I’m willing to offer you my advice. Believe it or not, people pay plenty of money for my advice. ”

Bruce took a long sip of scotch, and I remained silent, contemplating my luck tonight. There was no chance for a poor kid like me to ever get advice from a person at Bruce’s level. My ears perked up.

“Go to any college you want, and major in anything you like, and it could lead you down a career path that may seem unlikely and completely unexpected. I have friends from college that majored in liberal arts, or history, and they are bankers, and stockbrokers. Of course, they had to pass the series 7, but your major in college shouldn’t determine anything. Keep in mind that this is America, the land of the capricious and it’s becoming normal to have three or four career changes in one’s life time. Success boils down to how hard you work, whether you are good at a certain field, or if you interview well or make an impression on people. I see that your friend Sam is going to Harvard.”

“Yes. He’s practically been accepted to all the top schools in the country and he’s graduating at the top of our class.” I wasn’t certain why I needed to paint an accolade filled picture for Sam.

“Harvard is one of the best schools in the country, and probably the world. A lot of people here are impressed with that stuff, but I listened to and watched Sam, and I wasn’t impressed. Sure he says the right things, but he seems like a real suck up.”

I laughed. “Bruce, I guess you can really read people.”

“I’ve been around a long time. Look here’s the deal. Harvard is as good as it gets, but not everyone that goes to Harvard excels in life. Some become very good in their respective fields, but Harvard is filled with legacy, nepotism, and political favors. The kids that attend the elite prep schools are destined for Harvard, and they have the ability to pay without financial aid, which is a big deal. Keep in mind, its harder to work your way up from nothing. I personally would have never felt comfortable at Harvard when I was your age. I come from a blue collared background, my father was a cop, my mother was a housewife. I loved state college. There were more kids like us there, and it was a lot of fun. But, whether it’s a state school, or an ivy league school, you gotta make the most of it. You gotta try everything, do everything, meet everybody, and just live it up. It’ll be the most important four years of your life as far as personal development. The academics are important but not as important as your personal development. The last thing you want is to leave college the same as when you entered. That would mean that you did not develop.” Bruce puffed his cigar, and drank a more scotch.