Read Online Camilla by Madeleine L'Engle - Free Book Online Page B

shoulders and said, “Listen, Camilla, you know what this is? This is a date. A dinner date. We’ll go to Nedick’s and pretend it’s the Persian Room at the Plaza. Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    We had a lovely time at Nedick’s. There was an old woman sitting next to us drinking that awful orange stuff and I think she’d been drinking something else before that because every few sips she would throw back her head and sing, and then she’d give a running commentary on the song and the people in Nedick’s; and one of the men kept threatening to throw her out if she didn’t keep quiet. Frank and I pretended the old woman was Hilde garde singing in the Persian Room at the Plaza, and the old woman loved it; I think perhaps she’d been an actress once upon a time.
    She was so happy because we were laughing and paying attention to her that you couldn’t mind about her being drunk, and Frank said, “Sing some Noël Coward for the young lady, Hildegarde,” and she shook with laughter and said, “Noël Coward. Now, there was an interesting man, dearie. I met him one day down at the Battery when he was writing the weather reports. You’ve never heard weather reports like he wrote. Better than singing commercials,” and then we all laughed and laughed, and then she started singing “Cockles and Mussels,” which seemed to be her favorite song.
    We took as long over our hamburgers and hot chocolate as we possibly could, and the old woman had one small orange drink after another; but finally Frank and I had to go, so we left her there, drinking her drink and singing “Cockles and Mussels.”
    Frank took me to the subway and I thought he was going to take me home, but he said, “I’m sorry I can’t ride back with you, Camilla, but I promised David I’d go see him this evening and it’s so late already, I’m afraid he’ll think I’ve forgotten him. David’s a veteran. He lost both his legs in the war.”
    â€œOh,” I said. We stood there at the mouth of the subway for a moment and then I said, “Thank you for the dinner and everything,” and Frank took my hand in his and held it, and then I turned and ran down the subway stairs.
    All the way home I thought about the way he had told me I was beautiful, and the way he had put his hands on my shoulders and told me we were having a date, and the way he had held my hand when we said good-bye; and for the first time growing up seemed something pleasant to me. Luisa can’t wait to grow up and go to medical school and everything, but I’ve kept having the feeling that if I weren’t growing up, everything would be all right with Mother and Father, and Jacques would never have happened.
    Once Luisa asked me, “Do you think Jacques is the first one?”
    â€œThe first what?”
    â€œNow, Camilla,” Luisa said, “don’t pretend to be dumber than you are. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
    So I said, very firmly, “Yes.”
    And Luisa said, “I hope you’re right, Camilla. I sincerely hope you’re right,” and shook her head in a way that reminded me of Mona. But I knew that I was right. Before Jacques started coming to the apartment everything was all simple and easy; now it is all complicated and difficult.
    Before Jacques. After Jacques. I seemed to label everything like that.
    But it was a funny thing: while I sat there in the subway on my way home I began to wonder for the first time if Jacques was really the only reason that everything seemed changed, or if he was only, as Luisa would say, the symptom and not the disease. Even before I was really aware of Jacques, things seemed somehow different; sitting there and looking at an ad for corned-beef hash, I had to admit that.
    Just the little unimportant things, walking alone down on the beach in Maine on the long summer evenings; tea parties