Crazy in Love (20 page)

“No, I wouldn’t do that, Rachel. You’re right; you’re not
a child anymore, and I don’t intend to treat you like one.
You’re old enough to decide who you want to see and who you don’t want to see. I must say, however, that I am
disappointed. I thought you had stronger ties to your
religion, to the whole Jewish heritage. I realize that you’re
not about to marry Saul, but I thought you’d be more
interested in cultivating relationships with Jewish boys.
And the fact that Saul is Puerto Rican ... well, you
couldn’t have found someone with a background more
different from yours if you had tried.”

As I watched this scene, I remained silent, but my eyes
were wide as they stayed focused on Rachel’s face. I
listened to Mrs. Glass’s words, and they did not surprise
me. After all, she was merely repeating what she had said to
me the week before. But I kept waiting for Rachel to argue
with her, or at least say
something.
She, too, remained
silent.

“That’s really all I have to say. It’s late, and I think
we should both get to bed. I’m sure Sallie’s parents don’t
want her out at this hour.” Mrs. Glass stood up and slowly
pushed her chair to the kitchen table. “I’m not asking you to
make a decision now. But I trust you, Rachel, and I know
that you’ll come to the one that’s right for you. Good
night.”

For a long time, neither Rachel nor I said anything. We
just sat at the table, listening to the silence of the apartment,
each of us lost in her own thoughts. Finally, when I couldn’t
stand it any more, I said, “I guess I’d better get going.”

I waited for her to protest, but she merely looked at me
with sad, confused eyes. I started for the door, then
hesitated. “So what happens now?” I asked.

Rachel gave me a long, soulful look, then blinked her eyes hard. “Funny, I was just going to ask you the exact
same thing, Sallie,” she answered in a voice so soft that I
could barely hear her.

Never let it be said that Sallie Spooner is not one heck of a resourceful person. Besides walking, eating, and looking
at dinosaur bones, I have a score of other possible ways of dealing with my problems and tensions. In fact, I’d never
even realized how good I was at distracting myself until that
week following the Saturday night of the WROX contest
and the discussion on Rachel’s social life afterward.

I didn’t see very much of her during that time. Oh, we
passed each other in the hall at school, and we continued
making our nightly phone calls to each other, but things weren’t the same. We were distant, Rachel and I, and it was because she was so torn up about this conflict with
Saul, It was the first time she’d ever had a major
disagreement with her family, and it was the first time she’d had to sit down and decide exactly what her priorities were. It was a tough time for her, and as close as we were, there was little I
could do to make things easier. So I just made sure she
knew I was around and kept myself busy with other things.

There were plenty of ways to occupy my time. I
think I saw about four thousand movies—some with other
friends, some with Jenny, some by myself. I read a lot. I
even wrote a nice little duet for guitar and piano.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’d sort of forgotten about Nick. That’s not quite as terrible as it probably sounds. All I mean is, I became so wrapped up in everything else that was going on that it took me a few seconds to remember who he
was that Tuesday night when he called me.

“Sallie, telephone!” Jenny came bounding into my room
after dinner, pulling me out of the world of Chicago in the
1890s as I plowed through Dreiser’s
Sister Carrie.
“It’s a
boy,” she went on, so loudly I was convinced that whoever was on the other end of the wire must be blushing down to his sneakers. Then I realized that it was probably Saul, and I
dragged myself to the phone,

I didn’t particularly feel like talking to Saul, because I had no idea what I could say, so there was noticeable
reluctance in my voice as I said hello.

“Hello, Sallie?”

“Yes, this is Sallie.” It wasn’t Saul’s voice, but I couldn’t
imagine whose it was. “Who’s this, please?”

“This is Nick. Remember? From the WROX contest?
You know, the guy with all the electrical wires wrapped
around his neck.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” I laughed. “I’m sorry, Nick. It’s
just that I’ve been in another world these days. How are you?”

“I’m fine. How about you? Has the excitement of
winning the songwriting contest worn off yet?”

“My feet are back on the ground again, that’s for sure.
School and tests and parents have a way of bringing things right back into perspective. I’m still really pleased about it,
though.”

“You should be. You and that guy were terrific!”

“Thanks, but we still have the second level of the contest in two weeks. That’ll be the tough part. This first level was
kid stuff.”

“You’ll be great. Besides, don’t forget that I’ll be there,
rooting for you from backstage.”

“You will? I didn’t realize you’d be working that
night.” I was genuinely glad, and I could feel the familiar
rush of pinkness to my cheeks. Fortunately Jenny was off in her room somewhere.  I wasn’t in the mood for any more of
her teasing, not after that whole fiasco with Saul.

“Are you busy practicing every minute of the day,” Nick went on, “or will you still be able to find a few hours to
teach me the joys of musical expression?”

“I think I could manage an hour or two,” I joked.

“Great. So we’re still on for Friday night? How
about if we start with a movie, just as I promised, and then
you can teach me a few chords?”

“Sounds fair.”

“I have a slight problem, though,” he said. “I don’t have
a guitar.”

“That’s okay. We can use mine until you decide if you’re
musically inclined or not.”

“I suspect that I’m not. Unfortunately, science and the
arts don’t usually mix too well.”

“That’s not true!” I protested. “Look at Dr. Albert Schweitzer! When he was in Africa curing the natives, he
used to spend every evening playing the organ!”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Well, maybe there’s hope
for me, after all.”

We agreed on the time he’d pick me up, and I gave
him my address. By the time I hung up, I felt
so lighthearted that a huge smile had begun to occupy my face full-time. I was happier than ever that Jenny wasn’t
around.

With Friday night’s date definite, my mood improved considerably. I began to feel that I was spending too much time thinking about other people and not enough thinking about myself. Still, some things are easier said than done, and I continued to worry about both Rachel and
Saul, separately as well as together.

Then, something finally gave way on Thursday night.
Jenny and I had just come home from seeing a French
movie over on Second Avenue. It had been fun, and we’d
topped off the evening by stopping off for hot-fudge sundaes
at Swenson’s, an ice cream parlor right across the street
from the theater. All the way home, she and I kept up a
hilarious dialogue, using these ridiculous French accents.
We both laughed hysterically for ages, and I ended up with
a stomachache.

Anyway, we’d just come home, and I was standing in
front of my closet trying to decide what I would wear the
next evening on my date with Nick. I’m always very
particular about things like that when I’m going on a first
date. I heard the doorbell ring, which was
kind of strange, because it was so late. Not just anyone can
float by our doorman without being announced, so I knew it had to be someone near and dear to the Spooner family who
had made his or her way to our humble abode at that
unusual hour. When there was a cautious knock at the door
of my bedroom, I knew it had to be Rachel.

“Come on in, Rachel,” I called.

Sure enough, it was she. She opened the door and stuck
her head in.

“Hi, Sallie. Is it okay if I come in?”

“Sure. I was just trying to decide what to wear ... oh,
never mind. Have a seat.”

We sat down on the floor together, me in
my turquoise chenille bathrobe
, Rachel in her jeans and a ski jacket. She was all
out of breath, and her cheeks and eyes glowed. I could
smell the cold night air on her.

“Sallie, I know it’s late, but I’d to talk to you. I’ll get
right to the point. I’ve been giving this whole thing a lot of
thought ... and I’ve decided not to see Saul anymore.”

There it was. After all those minutes and hours and days
spent agonizing over how this whole thing was going to turn
out, there it was. Rachel had reached her decision.

I didn’t know what to say. I was disappointed, of course,
and Rachel knew it. After all, we’d already been through all this once before. So I simply nodded and said, “Okay.”

She looked at me sadly, and I could see the difficulty she’d
been having—and still was having—with this.

“You don’t understand, do you.” It was a statement, not
a question.

“No. You know I don’t. I never have understood.”

“Even after what my mother said the other night?”

I shook my head. “I understood what she said, and I
know your line of thinking. But after knowing Saul as well
as I do, and
liking
him as much as I do—as much as we
both
do ...”

Rachel started to stand up. “I hoped you’d be on my side,
Sallie. You know this hasn’t been easy for me. But I have to
do it this way.”

“Have you told Saul yet?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you
before I did.”

“Was he very upset?” I asked softly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

I sighed, feeling sorrier for Saul than I did for Rachel.
After all, he was the one who was being rejected, and on
grounds that were entirely out of his control. And, as far as I was still concerned, completely irrelevant.

“Well, I guess that’s it, then. Will you still be coming to
hear us sing at the WROX contest next weekend?”

“I—I think it would be better if Saul and I just avoided each other completely. You’re not mad, are you?” she
added quickly.

“Well, of course I’d like you to be there, but I suppose that, under the circumstances, there’s really nothing I can
do.”

“Oh, Sallie, please don’t hate me!” Rachel wailed.

“I don’t hate you, Rachel. I guess I just need some time to get used to this. I thought everything had been settled,
and you and Saul seemed really happy together. And now,
all of a sudden, it’s off again. It’s not that easy to digest.”

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend! You have to accept
my decision on faith. Please?”

“I’ll try.” I stood up, too, and we hugged each other. But even though we were pretending that things were back to normal, they weren’t, really. Just as Rachel was confused
about where her loyalties should lie, so was I. I needed time
to think, to sort everything out.

“I should be getting home now,” Rachel said
distractedly.

“Okay. Good night, Rachel. I’ll see you in school.”

“Yeah. See you.” And she was gone.

I didn’t sleep very well that night. It was more because I
couldn’t decide what to think than because I was angry or
disappointed. Rachel was my best friend, and so I should have been prepared to support her in anything, no questions
asked. Wasn’t that what friendship was all about? But maybe there came a time to draw the line, to say you couldn’t agree with something because it was wrong,
because it was hurting someone. This was even hurting
Rachel, as far as I was concerned. I finally drifted off to
sleep sometime after three
A
.
M
.
without having decided
exactly what role I should be playing.

In school the next day, Rachel and I made a point of
avoiding each other. I felt terrible doing that, but with
things so unresolved, I didn’t know what else to do.

Fortunately a surprise quiz in music theory kept me distracted enough to get me through the day.

It was with a heavy heart that I dressed for my date with Nick. At that point I couldn’t get very excited over the issue
of purple sweaters versus striped blouses, and I ended up
throwing on the most convenient outfit I could find. What
difference does it make what you’re wearing when your
whole world is in turmoil? As I was brushing my hair halfheartedly, glowering at my reflection in the mirror and
wondering about the meaning of life, I heard the doorbell
ring.