Chapter Fifteen #2
Mina’s chin went down, and her eyes narrowed, as if to say, I know you are lying. “From what Pelham said, there was quite the blossoming romance. He seems to think he wronged you somehow.”
From what Pelham said … Did that mean he was in New York? Julia skipped right over wondering why he was there and went straight to a hot rush of humiliation. She imagined Pelham confessing to Mina about his abominable treatment of poor, naive Julia. Oh, and have you met Svetlana…?
Mina’s annoyance notwithstanding, Julia was glad she had never told her.
Even if she had sworn Mina to secrecy, it was easy to imagine her scolding Pelham for his neglect, and then defending herself later on the grounds of her abiding loyalty.
How could I be silent when my friend was treated so poorly?
In the process, of course, she would have cemented the image of Julia pining away while Pelham and Svetlana romped about.
“Well, he told me he wants to see you. He’ll be in Washington next week.”
So, I must face this humiliating apology in person? Having already implied this was much ado about nothing, however, Julia could hardly say she had no desire to see him.
“That’s fine.” Julia shrugged.
“He is joining the civilized world again. I gather one of the men in that Bolshy French commune made off with all the money. He’s taken a job with a magazine. The man will always be poor as a church mouse, not that that need weigh with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“That if you agree to give this supposedly nonexistent romance another go, his bank book will not matter to you.” Mina said, still using that deliberate I will humor you, though I know you’re lying tone.
“Oh.” Julia, who felt neither a need nor a desire to explain herself, changed the subject. Mina left soon after, having failed to extract information or an apology.
Julia thought it was possible, if not likely, that Mina was misinterpreting whatever Pelham had said to her, but at least it was not as bad as what she had imagined: Pelham commiserating with Mina about poor Julia, while Svetlana stood by, blond and bored, smoking a cigarette.
This image reminded Julia how much time she had already wasted thinking about Pelham. She decided to put him out of her mind until such time as she heard from him. When the week passed without a word, she concluded that Mina had indeed misunderstood matters.
She was completely unprepared, therefore, when she got home from school on Friday and found Pelham waiting on her front stoop. He rose and met her at the iron gate.
“Hello, Pelham.” She stopped in front of him.
He was not “old enough to be her grandfather,” as he had joked in one of his letters, but there were lines in his forehead and around his eyes that had not been there before the war.
Somehow, as was so maddeningly the way with men, they made him look more distinguished.
“I am sorry to surprise you like this, but I wanted so much to see you, and I thought you might not agree if I asked first. Will you let me take you to dinner?”
“Tonight? I have plans.”
“Tomorrow?”
“All right.” She could not hold back a weary sigh. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Thank you, Julia.” Pelham had the decency to look pathetically grateful.
As she got ready the next evening, Julia wished she had some guidebook for how to handle what she found to be a confusing situation.
The old courtship rules were ridiculous, and she was glad her generation had tossed them out, but it would have been useful if they had replaced them with something else.
Given that she could not even categorize what they had, she had no idea what her attitude should be.
They were two adults who spent one day together, had one kiss, and exchanged some letters that were intimate, in their way.
None of that constituted anything like a promise. Did she even have a right to be angry?
He had offered to pick her up for dinner, but she declined, having no idea how things would go, and not wishing to be beholden to him for transportation home. By the time she met him outside Café St. Mark’s downtown, she had come to no conclusions about how she should think about this encounter.
That said, she did put on a very pretty gown, dotted net over black satin, which he seemed to admire.
The café was in an old Presbyterian church that had been made over to look like an indoor Italian garden, with stucco walls, fountains, and a pergola below the sapphire blue ceiling.
She wondered at his selecting St. Mark’s, which was popular with Washington’s “residential set.” Sure enough, as they walked to their table, Julia was hailed by a number of people she knew from that milieu.
Pelham seemed amused by this, and she was secretly pleased.
It seemed like compelling testimony to the full life she lived in Washington.
Julia knew that this was a meeting of sorts, and since Pelham was the one to call it, it was his responsibility to set the agenda. Still, she expected some small talk first and was disconcerted when he launched in as soon as they had ordered drinks.
“Julia, I wish I knew how to begin to tell you how sorry I am for breaking things off as I did. I was horribly wrong. I cringe whenever I think of the absurd things I said.”
Julia paused and looked off for a moment, feeling flummoxed. “I don’t know that you owe me an apology or explanation, Pelham,” she said finally. She heard the uncertainty in her own voice.
“Of course I do.” His own tone suggested far more certainty, and when she met his eyes, she saw chagrin. “I was horrible, and not that it should weigh with you, but I have been wretched about it for some time.”
“I see.”
“I hope you took none of my words to heart because they were perfectly backward. I disparaged your tendency toward cheer, toward joy, when those are the best things about you. And while I imagine it is hard for you to believe, I care so much for you. I would like another chance, if you would just allow me to explain.”
Julia did not understand why it was that only now, after Pelham had acknowledged his error, she felt indignant about his treatment. It was as if she was deferring to his terms for her own feelings.
But when she looked at him and took in his gentle, beseeching expression, she experienced the same powerful tug of attraction that she had felt the first time she laid eyes on him.
No other man had ever made her feel this way, and she had begun to wonder if one ever would.
Though he seemed in earnest, he had indeed wronged her, and Julia knew she would have to tread more carefully this time.
However clarifying these feelings of aggrievement were, she found she had a desire neither to vent them nor to hear his explanation.
“Perhaps it would be best if we just began again, Pelham. We shall just see how things go.” She smiled. It was a rather closed-mouth affair, that smile, and not particularly encouraging, but it was all she could manage.
“Beginning again,” after all, did not mean forgetting.