you wish we hadn’t made love?”
“No! That’s not it.”
But it was why she couldn’t seem to stop crying, Dinah realized. She had this huge iron cauldron of emotions bubbling inside her, and it was hard to separate one from another. She closed her eyes and imagined herself cooking a stew, skimming one emotion after another from the top. Disillusionment, because the experience had been pretty awful. And mixed in like pepper, stinging, was some fear that it had been such a comedown for Will, he wouldn’t want to be with her anymore.
In her mind, she kept skimming, trying to identify fleeting whiffs of emotion. Despite the tears, she felt exhilaration because she’d done it and she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Guilt because she had to hide the fact that she was a woman from her mother, who was living in the fifties or maybe even the forties and really, really thought her daughter might wait until her wedding night. And sadness, because Dinah couldn’t talk to anyone, not her mom and not her two best friends. She felt grief, too, as if she’d lost something meaningful although she didn’t know what that was.
“I’m a mess,” she said aloud.
Will took his hand off the steering wheel to clasp hers. “Yeah, but I love you anyway.”
“Do you?” She searched his face. “I mean, really? You’re not disappointed in me?”
He gave her a smile of such sweetness, it pierced her heart. “That’s insane! Why would I be disappointed? You chose me to be the first guy ever. That’s, like, the most amazing gift.”
“Oh.” Something eased inside. “Next time will be different.”
“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “You’ll see.”
She pictured his body, even skinnier than he looked in clothes, but also the jut of his erection, not skinny at all, and actually felt a buttery-soft melting low in her belly.
He pulled up in front of her house. She scooted over, kissed him quickly and whispered, “I can hardly wait to find out,” then jumped from the car, slammed the door and raced up her driveway.
Chapter 2
As Will put away the last plates and hung up the wet dishtowel, his mother let the water drain out of the sink and turned to him with an especially bright smile he knew was fake.
“So, do you and Dinah have plans tonight?”
Wary, he shrugged. “We’ll probably just hang out. Maybe go over to Miguel’s. Some guys are jamming tonight.”
She gave a delicate shudder. “It’ll be a wonder if any of you have any hearing left by the time you’re thirty.”
Will rolled his eyes. Like anybody worried about what would happen when they were thirty!
“Didn’t you see Dinah last night?” his mother asked. “You two seem to get together every day.”
“So?” He stared back at her, not giving an inch. “It’s summer.”
“But you have to get up so early for work. You look tired, honey. Why don’t you stay home tonight and get a good night’s sleep?”
Aching to escape, he repeated, “It’s summer. I’m supposed to be having fun.”
“You’re supposed to be working and saving up for college.”
“I am working, and saving. Does that mean I can’t do anything else?”
“I’m not saying that.” She came to him and smiled, patting his cheek, oblivious to how he stiffened. “But you have other friends. It doesn’t seem like you ever see them anymore. What about Alan? What’s he up to these days?”
“Hanging out with his girlfriend.”
“Now, don’t sound so testy,” she admonished. “You know your father and I think the world of Dinah—she’s such a nice girl. But we worry that you’re getting too serious about each other, considering you’re only nineteen and still have college ahead of you before you can even consider getting married.”
Frustration buffeted him. He took a step back from her. “College?” His voice was too loud, and he saw her eyes widen. “What about the draft? Have you forgotten that? They’re saying they might get rid of the student deferment. You know, I might have to go to Vietnam. I might come home in a body bag. So excuse me if I want to live a little first, okay?”
He walked out, his stomach churning. His parents lived in some pretend world where nice boys and girls followed the life plan laid out for them and didn’t have to worry about shit like getting sent involuntarily overseas to shoot women and babies in little villages carved out of the jungle. They needed to get a clue.
With it being August now, the late afternoon was warm. Most days, fog massed offshore, ready to roll in by four o’clock, but today the sky stayed clear. When he picked Dinah up, he said, “Do you really want to go to Miguel’s? My mom was hassling me, and I don’t feel like a party.”
Dinah smiled at him, her eyes soft, and shook her head. Her hair, almost reaching her waist now, shimmered like a length of satin. She had the prettiest hair he’d ever seen, the color between moonlight-blond and pale peach. She had a redhead’s freckles, too, but like her hair they were pale, scattered across her nose and cheeks, and on her chest. In contrast her stomach and breasts were creamy white, and the freckles she said she had on her shoulders and legs were lost in the tan she’d acquired from lifeguarding all summer at the high school swimming pool.
“Let’s go over to the Point,” she suggested. “We can just walk on the beach.”
The Point was a finger of land that jutted at an angle, forming a natural bay that had been further enclosed with a stone breakwater to shelter fishing boats. A military radar dish dominated the high wedge of land, but a rutted dirt road allowed local access to the wild stretch of beach on the other side.
“Why don’t you grab a blanket and some matches,” he suggested. “Maybe we can have a fire later.”
Will’s was the only car when they reached the top and were able to see the Pacific Ocean stretching onto the curve of the horizon and farther. They had to hike down a switchbacking trail to reach the beach below, where driftwood flung ashore by winter storms nestled against the cliff. The waves surged in a rhythm that felt eternal.
Not talking much, Will and Dinah walked along the pebbly beach until they found a spot between the water-worn stump of a giant tree and a crisscross of silver-gray logs. He spread the blanket there, and they lay quietly, her head on his shoulder, watching the sun sink toward the horizon.
It was no more than a fiery orange half circle when Dinah asked, “What was your mother hassling you about?”
“College. Filling out applications. Saving money to pay tuition.” He was silent for a moment. “She thinks we’re seeing too much of each other. She doesn’t understand.”
Her hand found his and squeezed. “That our generation knows we may not have forever, the way they thought they did.”
“There could be a nuclear war tomorrow,”
