"Slide," I urged him.
Daddy used to say that if you build something up too much, no matter how wonderful it is, you'll be disappointed.
"Keep a lid on your expectations. Rose. Take things slowly, enjoy the surprises."
I tried so hard not to expect bells ringing or feel myself floating on clouds, all the things I read in books. This was my reality, my entrance into womanhood. Anyone could have sex anytime, but to have it with love was what I was longing for and hoping would happen. It was the only dream I permitted, the one expectation I would not deny myself.
And it was all that I had imagined it would be. We were gentle with each other and loving. We did feel connected, a part of each other in a deeper way. It seemed to me we tasted each other's very souls, and when it was over, we held onto each other to prolong the moment and put it forever and ever indelibly on the very face of our hearts.
When Barry and I stepped out of my bedroom, we walked right into Charlotte coming up the stairs. She paused, a wide, salacious smile on her face. Mammy was not with her.
"Is this your boyfriend from the past?" she asked. Barry looked nervously at me.
"No. He's my boyfriend from the present. Barry Burton, this is Charlotte Alden Curtis."
"Hello," Barry said.
"Is Rose giving you a tour of the house?"
She laughed and continued up the stairs.
"Don't wait up for your mother," she said as she passed me.
I felt the blood rush into my face and quickly continued down the stairs. Without a word. I walked out of the house.
"What did she mean?" Barry asked.
"My mother is enjoying the social life Charlotte has found for her. She seems to take pleasure in my uneasiness about it," I said, firing a hot look back at the doorway.
"Will you be all right?"
"Yes," I said. "Don't worry, Barry."
He nodded a
nd then kissed me good night. I watched him leave and looked toward the darkness that closed in around his car, wondering where Mommy would be spending the night tonight and what would become of us.
All the next day. Mommy's behavior and new lifestyle gnawed at me. At dance practice. Miss Anderson immediately saw something was bothering me.
"You're missing beats. Rose," she said. We were rehearsing for the spring variety show. I was going to do an interpretive dance she had choreographed, 'Something wrong?"
At first I shook my head and just started dancing again, Then I stopped and started to cry. It was as if my tears had control of me. I couldn't stop them and I couldn't stop shaking.
Miss Anderson put her arm around me and led me to the chair. "Can I help you?" she asked.
I swallowed the heavy throat lump and took a deep breath. "No," I said. "It's not something anyone can help. I guess."
"Try me." she pleaded.
I told her about Mommy and how she had changed so much. She listened with a look of concern, nodding occasionally with understanding.
"Maybe you don't realize how lost she was after your father's passing. Rose. She had to find a way out of her pain. too."
"She's just so changed," I moaned.
"Great events change you sometimes," Miss Anderson said. She went on to tell me how she had been a very shy girl most of her life. She revealed that she had an older sister who had died from Hodgkin's disease.
"She was beautiful and bright and well on her way to becoming a dancer, too. She was like you born with natural rhythm, graceful, with the ability to touch people's hearts and souls through her dancing. When she died, it broke my mother and father's hearts. I felt an obligation to fill her shoes and smothered my shyness. I had to wash the gloom out of their eyes. Great events change you she repeated.