“I need to jump in the shower and get this plane grime off of me,” I said.
“I need to shower too,” Ben said, raising his eyebrows. He kissed my cheek, then my neck and whispered, “Seems like a shame to waste all that water...” He was grinning at me so boyishly that I couldn’t be mad anymore.
“I think that sounds amazing,” I said.
I turned and ran toward the bathroom, Ben laughing and following behind me. I loved squeezing soap into the ridges of his tight abdomen, those dimples in his cheeks coming out as he leaned over and kissed me, so much taller than I. I felt myself relax. I felt my body meld into his, free from the stress of whether it was going to fail me yet again, of whether next month would bring yet another negative pregnancy test. In those moments with Ben, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was right where I needed to be.
Lovey
A Thing About Marriage
May 1945
I’d been warned against wasteful spending my whole life. So, the entire time I was in New York City, I sent my parents one telegram. It read,Celebrated victory in Times Square STOP Home May 28 STOP Love you STOP. In those days, you quickly became experienced at saying everything you needed in the ten-words-or-less telegram price break.
I never heard back. Needless to say, I had no idea what to expect on the final leg of that trip back to reality, back to where I’d come from. I cried the entire plane flight home. Partially, I’m sure, I was sad about leaving a world that had charmed me more quickly than a soldier on leave. But the real tears were for the actual soldier on leave that I was flying away from. Conveniently, Dan’s family had moved from Bath just up the road to New Bern. “Had to come all the way to New York City to find each other again,” we were fondof saying. We weren’t neighbors, exactly, but weekend visits were possible.
“I’ll write you every day,” I had said when our lips parted.
“No need,” he said breathlessly. “As soon as I talk to your parents, I’ll be asking for your hand.”
I smiled thinking about that, the rain clouds of my tears finally drying up in the midafternoon sun streaming through the window. His love was all I needed.
I’d certainly never wanted to be a model, so this contest, this win, this picture in the magazine, it truly must have been orchestrated by someone much greater than I was to fling me back into the arms of my Dan. I had had my picture taken a few more times during the trip to document how marvelous winning this contest was, and how fantastic the cosmetics were too, of course. Me at the theater, me dancing at the Waldorf, my hair blowing at the top of the Empire State Building.
They told me I had potential; they could maybe even offer me a contract. But I wasn’t a model. And I wasn’t a New Yorker. I was a farm girl. I wanted to be a wife. Dan’s wife. And, as I had discovered on that trip, I wanted to be a student too. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to travel the world. I may never stand atop the Eiffel Tower or sit on the steps of the Great Pyramid of Giza. But I hadn’t been valedictorian of my class for nothing.
I had practically whispered to Dan over tea at the Plaza that I thought I might like to go to college. He had lit up brighter than the chandeliers above us. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’m going to college too.” His face fell and then it lit up again. “You should go to UNC. Gosh knows, you’re smart enough.”
I smiled into my tea even thinking about what Daddy would say if I told him I wanted to go to the University of North Carolina.“Dan, honestly, don’t you think that’s a little improper? I was assuming I’d go to Women’s College just like Lib did.” I knew Momma and Daddy wouldn’t like it, but they couldn’t very well pay for Lib to go to college and not do the same for me.
He shrugged. “But then we have to be apart. If you go to UNC, we can be together, we can get married.”
Married... It was that sweet thought that I held on to as I closed my eyes, preparing myself for what it was going to be like to be home again. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked through that door. Coldness. Screaming. The punishment to end all punishments.But,I reminded myself in my white gloves and best traveling suit,I am a grown woman now. I’m going to be married soon.What could they really do to me?
I walked through the door to silence. Complete, deathly silence. “Momma,” I called. “Daddy, I’m home.”
“In here,” came Momma’s voice from the kitchen.
She was standing by the stove, the radio droning in the background, her apron tied around her petite waist. Daddy was in his dinner chair, reading his paper.
“Hey, baby,” he said when I walked in, not bothering to get up.
“We’ve got fried chicken, okra and mashed potatoes for dinner,” Momma said. “Hope that suits.”
After weeks of the finest cuisine flown in from all over the world, I would like to say that my palate had become more sophisticated. But I was still a down-home girl at heart.
The cuckoo clock chimed from the dark, paneled den, and everything around me felt eerie, like the foreboding music in a picture before the murderer makes his kill. They didn’t ask about my trip, and I didn’t tell. It was as though I had walked down to the corner grocery for sliced bread and come back.
About halfway through dinner, I couldn’t take the suspense any longer, and, so, I finally said, smiling, “I met a man.”
That did it. Daddy banged his fist onto the table, his napkin clenched inside. “I told you we should go after her, Lily Ann. I told you she’d meet some damn Yankee and be gone forever.”
Momma’s face was white. To the outsider it might seem like she was afraid of Daddy’s anger. But I knew better. She was afraid of me. Coming home and saying I’d met a Yankee was only a step off saying I was marrying a Catholic.
“Calm down, Daddy.” I laughed. “He’s from New Bern. Do you remember Dan from school?”
Momma nodded. “Really? Dan?”
