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PART I
SPEAKING IN TONGUES

31

“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Marina murmured when Dot joined her on the sidewalk for their trek to school Wednesday morning.

Dot shook her head. “Did Trey say anything about what happened Saturday?”

The day the world fell down on top of Dot.

“I haven’t seen him any more than you have. Maybe after school he’ll … ”

“Maybe.”

They walked the rest of the way to school in silence. Dot, who usually couldn’t stop talking or bouncing around, was dragging her feet, clutching her books to her chest, and hanging her head.

Marina felt like doing the same, especially since Ruthie and her pals had noted that for the last two days, neither Trey nor Gene had picked Marina and Dot up after school, and they had heard through the grapevine that neither man had shown up at Kresge’s Monday and Tuesday. They may have been able to pass that off if Dot had confronted life as blisteringly defiant as usual. But her hurt was too fresh and Sister Albright wouldn’t allow Dot to stay home over a broken heart.

Both Marina and Dot were silent throughout classes. P.E., a class they both hated, was at least more horrible than what had happened Saturday. Marina still had hope Trey would be at the bottom of the front stairs of Paseo High School when final bell rang, but he wasn’t.

“I don’t want to go to Kresge’s, Marina,” Dot said dully.

“But what if—”

“Dot!”

“Dot!”

“Dot!”

The boys descended on her like they always had before manly Gene Luke had sauntered in their midst, parting them like Moses parted the Red Sea. While Dot brightened up to half her old self, it was only a show for Ruthie and her clique. Marina sighed. Before Trey and Gene, Marina would have felt hurt and left out of the flock of boys around Dot as they walked, but now she was simply sad.

“When I have a daughter,” Dot muttered resentfully once she’d shaken the boys and they were alone again, “and something like this happens to her, I’m going to take her out to get ice cream and shopping and, and, and … ”

“You’re going to college, remember?”

Dot hesitated. “Yeah. Sure.”

Saturday, during their second jaunt to Elmwood for another picnic, a taciturn Gene had taken Dot off for a private walk only to tell her he would not be seeing her anymore, as he was twenty-two and she was sixteen—an immature sixteen. He had left the cemetery, leaving Trey to squire both girls home.

Trey had dropped Dot off after Marina because, Dot had told her, he wanted to offer his apologies for the way things had gone. Perhaps. Dot didn’t remember much of what Trey had said to her. She thought maybe he was truly sympathetic, but it didn’t matter.

“Dot,” Marina said resolutely, “we’re going to Kresge’s.”

Dot sighed, but didn’t argue. She, too, had hope that Trey would be there to shed more light on the situation. Marina’s only hope was that Trey hadn’t dumped her, too, but that hope was slim.

Her heart turned over in her chest when they entered Kresge’s to find Trey holding their table. Dot dashed forward and slid into the seat across from him. Trey’s mouth twisted with sympathy and he shook his head.

He stood for Marina to slide into her seat, but instead of sitting beside her he said, “Marina, I have an appointment and can’t stay. I didn’t want to miss another day without letting you know.”

This was it. Marina could barely look him in the eye, somewhat because he wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Are you … I … ” She couldn’t say it. “Too?”

“We can talk about that later.” He touched his fingers to his forehead. “Ladies,” he muttered, then he was gone.

Just like that.

Marina sighed, her chest aching, her eyes stinging. “We even get dumped together,” she said with a little creak in her voice.

“Let’s go home,” Dot said listlessly.

“I’m hungry,” Marina said just as listlessly, “and Mother’s taken to watching every single bite I take.”

“Oh. All right.”

They ate onion rings in silence while Dot did math homework and Marina continued to read Elmer Gantry. When the basket was empty, Marina ordered another, and another flip.

Dot frowned. “That’s not like you.”

“I told you. I’m hungry, and Mother’s making liver’n’onions tonight.”

Dot grimaced and went back to her homework.

At supper, Mother inquired as to whether Trey would be at services that evening since he hadn’t been to Sunday worship.

“I don’t think so,” Marina muttered, now picking at her food. “He … ” She took a deep breath and confessed, “Gene broke up with Dot Saturday.”

“Oh, is that right!” Father said, shocked. “I thought he— That is, Mr. Dunham told me Mr. Luke was smitten with her.”

Marina shrugged helplessly. “We thought that, too, but he told Dot she was too immature for him and he wouldn’t see her any longer.”

“Is that why you were home so early?” Mother asked, also a little surprised.

“Yes. Trey took Dot home.”

“Uh … ” Father seemed rather more shocked and distressed by that than Marina would have thought. “He— And Mr. Dunham? He hasn’t been around at all?”

“He met us at Kresge’s today, but … ”

Father and Mother waited. “But … ?”

“I think he broke up with me too.” Marina repeated the conversation.

“Marina,” Mother said stiffly. “You may not think so now, but you two are lucky to be shed of those men. There’s something not right about twenty-four-year-old men wanting to walk out with sixteen-year-old girls.”

“Gene’s twenty-two.”

“That is still six years older than Dorothy and Mr. Dunham is eight years older than you. It is not right,” she insisted. “There is nothing fascinating about sixteen-year-old girls to men of that age and circumstance. They wanted something from you two, and I hope to God they didn’t get it.”

Marina’s shoulders slid forward the tiniest bit, waiting for Father to contradict that, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “If Mr. Luke broke up with Dorothy because she is immature, then I can only presume Mr. Dunham broke up with you for the same reason. I expected better of you, Marina.”

That was what she got for allowing herself to play and be bright like Dot.

Mother sawed at her liver’n’onions. “I suppose you’ve worked having a beau out of your system now?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “May I be excused from services tonight? Dot won’t be coming.”

“Absolutely not,” Mother replied archly. “The world doesn’t stop turning because your heart is broken. I doubt Dorothy’s mother would disagree.”

Marina shook her head. Sister Albright had at least said it with more sympathy.

She looked down at her plate and, regardless how hungry she was, knew she could not take another bite. “Mother, may I make supper tomorrow? I— There’s something I want to try.”

“What?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I think that’s a fine idea!” Father said.

Mother’s mouth tightened. “Is my cooking not good enough for you, dear?”

“It’s delicious,” he said. “However, I would rather you tend other needs in the congregation than be burdened with kitchen chores when Marina is willing to take over.” A little cheered, Marina didn’t dare exchange conspiratorial glances with Father. “Mrs. Holcomb did just have another baby, and I overheard you tell Mrs. Dial you would minister to her.”

“Hrmph. Why are you bothering with that? Meatballs are meatballs.”

“I thought so too, but then Trey took me to Correggio’s. Theirs are simply atrocious.”

“That is true,” Father murmured, before sipping his coffee.

“How do you know?” Mother asked sharply.

“The deacons and I had our last quarterly meeting there.”

That seemed to stump Mother. “Oh.”

“I didn’t say anything to Trey because he seemed to like them, but I could not abide more than two bites and I know I can do better.”

“I for one am absolutely certain you can,” Father said. “Did you have anything there you liked?”

“The antipasto, which was olives and prosciutto, and then after the entrees came, I said I couldn’t eat another bite, but Trey asked if we could switch plates because he’d rather have the meatballs than his dish. Pasta alla Norma. That was lovely, and I would like to try that next week, if I may. We had cannoli for dessert—”

“What is cannoli?” Mother asked.

“I would describe it as fried puff pastry rolled into a tube, with sweetened cottage cheese stuffed inside. They were good, but I wouldn’t make them even if I could.”

“Why not? That sounds delicious.”

“They were bland. I didn’t like them enough to spend time learning how to make them.”

“Oh.”

“Did you try the calamari?” Father asked.

“No.” And now she would never get to.

“What’s calamari?” Mother asked.

“Deep-fried squid.”

Mother’s eyes bugged out and she gulped.

“It looked wonderful going by.”

“Well! I certainly hope you are not going to attempt to recreate that!”

“Oh, no.”

Father pulled his linen off his lap and patted the corners of his mouth, then arose. “Mother, Marina, if you will excuse me. Sermons don’t prepare themselves.”

Thursday, Dot refused to go to Kresge’s, but again Marina pled hunger, which was not in any way feigned. “I didn’t eat supper last night and you know how much I hate Mother’s greasy fried eggs.”

Once home, she got to cooking immediately and by the time supper was ready, she was almost stuffed. Still, she ate a whole plate of her meal. That would have raised Mother’s eyebrows if she knew how much she’d eaten at Kresge’s and snitched while cooking.

“I must admit these are delicious,” Mother sniffed. “Not too spicy at all.”

They weren’t spicy enough for Marina, but she only said, “Thank you.”

Friday, the last day of school, ended with no Trey at the bottom of the steps of Paseo High School. The girls trudged home silently, Ruthie’s taunts following them. They silently agreed that there was no point to going to Kresge’s. They planned nothing for Saturday because, after all the fun things the men had taken them to do, window shopping had lost its appeal. Marina made supper again, collected compliments from both Mother and Father, and accounted for her semester’s marks, which were commendable if not spectacular.

Nobody expected Marina to be spectacular at anything and life would go on as it had before Marina met Trey.

Only now she knew what she was missing.

31

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Speakeasy staff.