Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
9 January 1955
W took me to the movies last night, to see White Christmas . Christmas was obviously over weeks ago now, but when I told W I hadn’t seen it, he insisted we go. And I’m glad he did. It was a simply wonderful film. Vera-Ellen danced around the screen with the most glorious skill. And in one scene with Danny Kaye, it was as though she barely even touched the ground.
W made me laugh by twirling me around on the pavement outside. But he said the characters played by Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney reminded him of us, which was the moment I was pulled right back to earth, because I am far from the quiet and cautious older sister. And that he thinks that made me wonder if he knows me at all. Vera-Ellen’s character was the one who called to my soul. She had such spirit and bravery.
Upon returning home, I said as much to my mother, who told me that the film was just fantasy and that true braveness is much less obvious. She also said that adventures are created wherever you decide to have them. She told me that some are quieter, that any movement forward in life is a new adventure. And I suppose she is right.
W has openly declared his love for me now. My parents couldn’t be happier about it. I told my mother that I don’t see W that way. That I love him as a friend. She tells me that this is the most important type of love one can have in a marriage, that after a while, romantic love fades, and if friendship is what’s left, then life will be good.
Mother also told me that now I am a woman, I cannot think of my current happiness, I must think of my future happiness and what is necessary for a comfortable life. With W, I would have a very good life. I would never have to worry about the prospect of poverty or resentment after the shine of romance has faded.
I suppose I should heed her words. But the thought of entering a marriage with someone who lights no fire in my soul fills me with desolation. Not that W has proposed marriage yet, but I think he eventually will.
Sometimes, for just a second, a part of me wishes I had never met M. For then I’d never know what I was missing; no flame would have been set alight. But that thought flickers away quickly, because I know, even if that fire were to be put out by the cold rains of life’s storms, I would never live to regret it. Because I’d know, even if I never found it again, that for one brief shining moment, my heart truly lived.