Part 8 (2/2)
We drank our liqueurs and then ordered stronger drinks. It wasn't long before we signalled the waiter for a third round. We were drinking more heavily than usual. Also, conversation was difficult for both of us. Every topic seemed to fall flat and there were many long heavy silences.
I guess the same thing was on both our minds. It was Friday night... D Day. Someone had to take the lead but neither of us was willing to do it because we had set up an impossible situation... whoever spoke first could be accused of dictating to the other. It was ridiculous but we were both too shy to do anything about it.
We didn't dance. The tension between us was so strong that I don't think either of us could have stood the close contact. I looked at Allison sitting across the table from me and I ached to hold her in my arms but I just went on making foolish conversation.
By the time we were on our fifth round of drinks the place was so crowded it looked like bargain day for lesbians: two for $1.98... slight manufacturer's defects that won't affect their serviceability.
The noise was deafening. The jukebox was blaring and everybody was trying to shout above it. Cigarette smoke hung like a cloud in the stale air.
”I can't breathe with all this smoke. Let's get out of here,” Allison said.
We paid the check and left. Outside the air was heavy with the poignant sweetness of Spring. It was the sort of night when the lights and sounds of the city seem somehow sad, like a lover who sighs in the midst of his pleasure because he knows it can't last.
Allison breathed deeply. ”It's a beautiful night.”
”Yes,” I said. ”I wish we were out in the country though. On nights like this in the Spring you can smell the earth.”
”Any place in particular you'd like to be?” she asked, not looking at me.
”Yes. I'd like to be up in the Catskills. Around Woodstock. It's beautiful up there. Particularly at this time of the year.”
”Let's go.”
”Huh?” I inquired brilliantly.
”We could borrow my room-mate's car. She doesn't have another flight until Tuesday and she won't be using it. I'm sure she'd lend it to us.”
”It would be silly to just drive up there and come back,” I protested. ”It's a three hour drive.”
”We could stay at a motel over night... or for the whole week-end, if you'd like,” Allison said.
I looked at Allison and in her eyes was the question and the answer. Desire sprang up in me so strong I doubted that I would be able to wait until we reached Woodstock.
”Call your room-mate,” I said. My voice had suddenly become lower and husky.
Allison called her room-mate from a drugstore phone booth. It was all right, we could have the car.
We took the subway uptown to save money. I waited on the steps outside her house while Allison went in and got the car keys... I thought it best not to meet her room-mate that night.
The car was a beat-up old red Plymouth convertible. It had seen better days but it still had dash. It was the sort of car a college kid would have jazzed up with a racc.o.o.n tail fastened to the antenna.
Allison handed me the keys. I was to drive. She handled it as she had indicated who was to lead when we danced.
I drove through the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey and past the sleeping towns where endless neon signs advertised the joys of conspicuous consumption.
There wasn't much traffic on the Thruway. We rode through the rolling countryside without talking. The radio was tuned in on WQXR and the music of Debussy played a soft accompaniment to the lonely hissing of the tires.
I turned off the Thruway at Kingston. There was about ten miles of unlighted road to Woodstock. Black trees hovered protectively over us, shadowy leaves sifted against each other in the night wind.
As we drove up the hill toward Woodstock, the lights of the Red Lion Inn came in view.
”What about staying there?” I asked. ”I've stayed at the Red Lion before and they've got nice clean rooms for not too much money.”
”Fine,” Allison said.
I parked the car in the parking lot between the restaurant and the Inn. I shut off the motor, the radio, and the lights. The sudden silence was startling.
”There doesn't seem to be anyone around,” Allison said. ”I wonder if everybody's asleep already?”
”No. I know the proprietress. She never goes to bed before dawn. She's quite a woman. I think you'll like her. She's a wonderfully alive, warm Rumanian. I think she's a little bit mad but delightful.”
”Aren't all Rumanians? Mad, I mean,” Allison asked.
”You're thinking of Hungarians.”
We got out of the car and stumbled in the dark to the back door of the restaurant. It was unlocked so we walked in to the bar.
Theresa Golovin was sitting on a stool at the bar listening to flamenco music from the jukebox. She kept the jukebox stocked with the kind of records she liked and to h.e.l.l with the customers if they didn't like it.
I introduced Allison to Theresa. Theresa asked us to wait until the record was over and then she'd show us to our rooms.
When the record was finished, Theresa took us to the Inn.
”I've got a big room available. Big enough for both of you. No need to pay for two rooms. Eh?”
I don't know if Theresa was being politic or if she really suggested a double room to save us money. Anyway, we agreed that it would be silly to pay for two rooms and took the big one.
I paid Theresa for two night's rent. She left us and went back to the bar.
Neither of us had any luggage to unpack. That was one of the little details we had overlooked. Another one was not bringing a bottle. The situation demandeda”no, screamed fora”liquor.
”I'd like a drink. How about you?” I asked.
”Yes, I'd like one but I'd like to rest for a moment before going down to the bar,” Allison replied.
”Suppose I ask Theresa if she'll sell us a bottle and we can drink it up here? It's illegal but I think she'll do it.”
”Good idea,” Allison agreed. ”I'd like cognac. Is that all right with you?”
”Fine. Anything with it?”
”No, I like it straight. Hurry back, darling.” Allison flopped down on the bed and a.s.sumed an exaggeratedly s.e.xy pose. Then she smiled at me lazily, mocking my self-conscious formality.
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