Pity Him Afterwards

“Sometimes. I used to come out here sometimes when I was a little girl. There’s an old broken-down shed around on the other side, if it’s still there. We played house in it, and the boys played war. It was a pillbox, and the ones inside were Japanese and the ones outside were Marines.”

“Let’s see this pillbox.”

“I’m not sure it’s even there any more. Come on, we’ll go around the island first, and then explore the interior later.”

Mel automatically took her hand, and they started off together, making their way along the water’s edge. There was no real beach anywhere around the island; the lake water was wearing the island slowly away, so at the point where land met lake there was usually only a sudden drop of a foot or two, and thick mud, and weeds and bushes growing right down to the edge, so they had to move slowly, and keep in a little from the water.

They had taken their time coming out here, floating around on the water till the sun grew too high and too hot, and then they’d found one of the few places where the ground sloped up gradually from the water, with a small clear grassy patch surrounded by the bushes and weeds, and there they’d landed. There were trees close by, gnarled and stunted, but big enough to offer a little shade. They’d sat a long while in this shade, talking amiably and casually together, telling each other anecdotes of their past life, getting to know one another a little better. Around one o’clock they’d eaten the lunch, and then digested a while, and now at last they were moving again.

Mel was not at all sure of himself. Mary Ann seemed open and honest and friendly, and she had no objection to being here alone with him, but he wasn’t at all sure just how much that meant. Because she was gradually assuming more and more importance to him, he wanted to make no rash or ill-advised moves, wanted to avoid inadvertently driving her farther away from himself.

So he hadn’t yet kissed her. He’d been thinking about it, more or less constantly, ever since they’d landed here, but as yet he hadn’t even begun a move in that direction.

He argued with himself about it, telling himself that after all she had come out here with him, and after all under circumstances like this she had to expect him to kiss her, didn’t she? But God alone knew what went on in the minds of girls; she might not be expecting to be kissed at all. She might be thinking of the two of them now as sister and brother.

On the other hand, what if he didn’t try to kiss her, and she’d been waiting all day for him to make the first move? Wouldn’t that be just as bad? If she did want to be kissed, and he didn’t kiss her, wouldn’t that drive her away from him just as surely as if she didn’t want to be kissed and he did try?

It was a problem.

And, damn it, it wasn’t always a problem. He’d had his share of girls, by God. Not all of those stories he’d told in the Lounge last night were false. He could make out as well as anybody, all things considered, and since living in New York had more than one night slept in a bed not his own. So why the big problem, all of a sudden?

He thought back to his earlier conquests, as he walked along hand in hand with this problem girl, trying to figure out what he had done those times that he was not doing now, or in what way the girl had been different, or the situation different.

Well, the situation was different enough, with this cloud hanging over everybody’s head. But to a certain extent they were out from under that cloud right now, even if only temporarily, and that should help equalize things.

The difference was, when all was said and done, this time he cared. He’d known the girl not yet twenty-four hours, but there it was just the same. It’s easy to be a make-out artist if you don’t give a damn about the girl; just go ahead and try. If she goes along with you, you’re in. And if she slaps your face and stalks off in a huff, small loss.

That was the difference. This time, big loss.

He thought about it all the way around the island, which, despite the slowness of their progress, didn’t take long. The island was very small, about fifty yards by thirty, and before he knew it they were back where they’d started, with the white-and-red rowboat bobbing at the end of its line, and the orange cat still tacking back and forth way down there by the Lounge.

“That’s enough for me for a while,” she said. “Let’s sit down and rest a minute.”

“Fine.”

He sat down next to her, and all of a sudden there was nothing to say. He’d done fine with the small-talk bit up till now — a lot better than with anything else — but all of a sudden there weren’t any more words. Maybe because of the realization he’d come to on the trek around the perimeter of the island: small loss versus big loss. Whatever the reason, right now he had absolutely nothing left to say.

So he kissed her.