Chapter 18 #3
We reverse our earlier drive, heading south into the heart of the city. The lights from the buildings filtering through the windows illuminate the car in tiny, fleeting pockets.
Beau points out notable landmarks to Kitty, who oohs and aahs, as his friend and Eleanor engage in a whispered conversation that appears intimate.
The car continues to wind through the city until we pull to a stop in front of an old stone building, even larger and more intimidating than Eleanor’s home.
“This is Beau’s social club,” Kitty whispers as we step out of the car. We’re ushered along a stone path covered by a long awning into a small lobby area where our coats are gathered and given to a coat check girl.
“He comes here three times a week,” Kitty continues. “Two days to curl and one to play tennis. It’s incredibly exclusive; you need to be invited to join.”
I nod, my face an expression of awe, although not at the exclusivity of the place but at how unbelievably different Beau’s life is from mine.
It’s a thought that lingers as we are escorted into a small but beautiful ballroom with glittering crystal chandeliers and dark mahogany floors, where we’re seated at a table next to the currently empty dance floor.
We’re brought a round of elegant-looking drinks in fancy cocktail glasses, and intricate canapés served on silver trays by men with white dinner jackets and black bow ties.
The dream, the night, whatever this is, continues to roll on as we are joined by more and more of Beau’s friends dressed in elegant evening wear, bearing bottles of champagne or shiny crystal glasses of dark liquor.
I sit back and watch it all as if it were a movie playing out right in front of me.
The crowd gathered around our table, with Kitty holding court in its center.
The careful way she drops her voice, low and conspiratorial, as she tells a story.
The way the crowd around her leans in close, hanging on her every word.
Her brief pause, just before the punch line, that causes everyone, including myself, to hold their breath.
She’s magnetic.
Even I am drawn into her orbit, wondering what she will say next, until she throws her head back and laughs, declaring, “You have all been such wonderful company, but I do think it’s time for someone to ask me to dance.”
There is a ten-person band set up in the opposite corner.
They’ve been here since before we arrived.
Yet, I only now notice that their subdued jazzy notes of earlier have been replaced by lively swings and jitterbugs.
One of Beau’s friends, a tall ginger-haired man, quickly takes up Kitty’s ask and offers her the first dance.
Then Beau himself takes the second and third.
Song after song ripples through the ballroom.
Kitty dances them all, barely leaving the dance floor before she’s swept back with a new partner.
At one point, I lose track of her completely, but then, I walk into the ladies’ room and see her sitting on a plush sofa in the corner, reading a piece of paper, her eyes red and puffy.
“Kitty! What happened? Are you okay?”
Kitty looks up at the sound of my voice. Her fingers fumble with the paper before shoving it into her evening bag. She pulls out a small white handkerchief, which she uses to dab at the corners of her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. “Just needed a little break from all of the dancing, that’s all. This place is fabulous. Don’t you think? I’m having the best time.”
Best times don’t usually lead to crying in a bathroom.
“What’s that?” I drop my gaze to her evening bag.
Kitty hesitates, looking from me to her bag twice before slowly prying it back open. She reaches inside, pulls out the piece of paper from earlier, and hands it to me.
“He gave it to me just before your daddy drove us to the bus station. I didn’t tell him why we were coming here, but I think he knew.”
I unfold the paper carefully. The loopy blue handwriting is vaguely familiar.
Dearest Kitty,
I had a dream last night. You were in it.
We had a quiet little cottage down on the beach.
It wasn’t big, but it was nice, with a stone fireplace in the kitchen and a big veranda where we could sit out and watch the water.
You were sitting in my lap, and my arms were around your waist, and I swear I could even smell the flowers of your perfume.
It’s like you were really there. I’ve been working hard at the dance hall.
Mr. Scott says he’s considering retiring soon, and I hope he will make me manager.
Whatever happens, I’m saving all of my extra money so I can buy a nice place one day.
I don’t know what I meant to say with this letter.
I think I may have gotten a little off track.
But I did want to tell you that I think you’re swell and I hope you think the same of me.
I’ll be working at the dance hall this weekend and will save every dance for you if you’ll have them.
Sincerely yours,
Knots
My stomach does a funny flip as I read the sign-off. When I look up, Kitty watches me as if waiting for my reaction.
“I think he might be in love with me.” She reaches for the note.
I fold it back up and hand it to her. “And are you in love with him?”
She tucks the folded paper into her purse, avoiding my eyes.
If an answer was coming, it’s interrupted when the door to the bathroom swings open, hitting the wall with a bang.
I watch as Eleanor strolls in, heading straight for the mirrors above the sinks.
She leans in close to apply a tube of deep red lipstick, not noticing Kitty until she appraises her own reflection and spots her in the mirror.
She spins around to face the couch. “Kitty, there you are.” Her voice reflects the gin fizzes she’s been drinking all evening.
“I have been looking for you everywhere. I want you to come meet my friend Darlene. She is a riot.” Eleanor returns to the mirror to give herself a final look, too preoccupied with her own reflection to notice Kitty dabbing her eyes a final time.
“There.” Eleanor steps back, making a quarter turn left and then right. “Come.” She holds out her hand to Kitty, who takes it.
I don’t get Kitty alone again till well after midnight.
Not until Beau has dropped all of us off at Eleanor’s house, and Kitty and I are tucked in next to each other in the giant four-poster bed.
The room is dark, but the moonlight filtering through the window gives me just enough light to make out Kitty’s face.
“Hey, Kitty…”
I slipped into this dream intentionally tonight so I could ask her a question. But now that I have her here alone, in the quiet, I don’t know where to start.
She doesn’t yet know she marries Beau.
She doesn’t even know who I really am.
“What’s the matter, Dotty?” Kitty runs her finger along the crinkle between my eyebrows. “You look so worried right now.”
Worried isn’t quite it.
“If you had to decide whether to do something that was good for you and could one day enable you to help people, but it might make life a little harder for many people you care about, what would you do?”
Kitty yawns and snuggles deeper into her pillow, making me wonder if she will answer.
But she opens her eyes and looks into mine.
“Thinking about what’s best for you doesn’t mean you don’t care about other people, Dot.
It means you’re smart enough to realize that you can’t help anyone if you don’t first help yourself. ”