Pages held together by a rusted paper clip. Paper not exactly crumbling, but after seven decades, it’s discolored and brittle. A short story, written so long ago.

Long hidden in a mountain of college papers, here’s a six-page class assignment. A short story, neatly typed, with a few pencil scratches. Probably a “final draft,” as there’s no grade or notes from the professor.

I can only imagine Dad’s reaction if he were still here to reminisce. He loved it when a delve into the past jogged his memory. “Wow – I never would have thought of that again. I was just a kid when I wrote it.”

A stand-up guy, Dad probably witnessed this sort of creepy behavior from some of the girl-crazy fellows he met in college. (I’ll seize upon this opportunity to use some photos of Mom and Dad in their college years, with the note this short story is pure fiction.)

Dad majored in English at Providence College (1947-1951). From reading the many letters he and Mom exchanged during their years of college separation, I can attest to the language used in this short story; they really talked like this!

Double Date

“Helen, I’ve got a little problem.”

“Really? Let’s hear it.”

“Well,” began Sue, “I just received a letter from Tommy saying he’d be home from college for the weekend.”

“That’s no problem.”

“Let me finish. He’s bringing his roommate with him, and I was sort of hoping you’d make it a foursome this evening.”

“Why Sue, I’ve never even met the boy.”

“So what? Tommy says he’s a swell kid, and not bad looking, either. Who knows, this might be the start of a beautiful friendship. Besides, you’ve often told me you were dying to meet Tommy, and here’s your chance.”

Helen studied her reflection in the long mirror at the far end of the living room.

“Golly, I don’t know. I would like to meet Tommy after all you’ve told me about him; but this idea of going out with a perfect stranger doesn’t quite appeal to me. What it amounts to is a blind date, and I’ve heard of so many that went sour. If that ever happened, I think I’d die.”

“Look, Helen, you’re only borrowing trouble. Tommy and I will be there in case the conversation lags. It’s not as if you were going to sell your soul. What could possibly go wrong on a simple dancing date?”

“Nothing, I suppose.”

“Then you’ll go?”

“On one condition.”

“O.K. Name it.”

“Promise me that if anything does go wrong you’ll get the boys to take us home early.”

“My God, Helen, stop worrying or you’re going to ruin the evening before it starts.”

Sue got up and walked toward the mirror, smoothing down her skirt as she went. Suddenly, turning to Helen, she exclaimed, “Hey, I’ve got to run along. Mother asked me to go down to Harper’s this afternoon and help her pick out a hat. After she bought that bird-cage affair in April, Dad made her promise to never go hat-shopping without me. Oh, I almost forgot: Tommy said he’d call for me at eight-thirty, so we’ll probably get here about nine. Can you be ready by then?”

Helen nodded.

“Good. We’ll see you at nine. Don’t bother coming to the door with me. After all these years I think I can find it.”

“So long,” Helen called after her.

– II –

It was a few minutes past nine when Helen heard a car pull up in front of the house. Having given herself a last critical look in the mirror, she played nervously with the pearl bracelet on her wrist. The door chimes sounded. She took a deep breath, walked to the door, and opened it.

“Good evening, I’m Bill Craig.”

“Hello, I’m Helen Graves. Won’t you come in?”

“I’m awfully glad to meet you — “

“Please call me Helen.”

“I’d love to, if you’ll make it Bill. — Tommy is still at Sue’s house. She wasn’t quite dressed, so he suggested that I drive over and pick you up.”

Her nervousness was strangely gone as she spoke.

“Wonderful. Would you care for a drink before we leave?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not just now, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“May I get your coat for you?”

“Golly, it’s so warm tonight I think I’ll go without one. Say,” she said, starting towards the door, “we’d better not keep Sue and Tommy waiting too long.”

* * * * *

As they approached Sue’s house, she and Tommy came out of the house and down to the curb to meet them.

Sue was the first to speak.

“It’s about time you two got here. I was beginning to think you’d skipped town with the car.”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Bill tried to explain, “we just stopped a minute for gas.”

“Hundred octane or hundred proof?” quipped Tommy.

“There’s a friend for you,” countered Bill.

“Hi, remember me?” It was Helen speaking.

“Vaguely,” said Sue, grinning impishly.

Tommy opened the rear door of the car and they got in.

“Helen, this is Tommy Norton.”

“You know, Sue, I had a sneaking suspicion you were going to say that. How are you, Tommy?”

“Ready for action. By the way, has anyone decided where we’re going?”

“I think the Wisteria Room at the Commodore would be as good a place as any,” Helen suggested. “Larkin’s orchestra is there tonight, and their Manhattans are simply out of this world.”

“The Commodore it is, then. Do you know how to get there, Bill?” asked Tommy.

“Sure thing. I passed it on my way to Helen’s house.”

Tommy was aware that Helen had been studying him through the rear-view mirror for several moments. Sue noticed it too.

“What’s the matter, Helen,” she said, “has Tommy got two heads or something?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry. Tommy, I’m sure we’ve met before.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the boys,” he replied coyly.

“No, seriously. I can’t seem to recall where it was, though.”

Sue was amused. “”Old home week,” she commented.

Ahead of them a huge neon sign crawling up the side of a building spelled out HOTEL COMMODORE. They found a parking space without any difficulty, and shortly afterwards they were seated comfortably around a circular table in a booth directly across from the orchestra. Then came the inevitable “Excuse us for a minute, please,” and the girls disappeared through a door marked LADIES, leaving Tommy and Bill to order the drinks.

– III –

When they returned to the booth, Sue looked angry, almost belligerent; her mouth was set in a tight, thin line. Tommy had seen her like this before, and he knew that it meant trouble. She sat down and her eyes bored into the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Her tone was cutting, icy.

Bill, sensing the situation, motioned to Helen and together they moved onto the dance floor.

Tommy tried to be natural. “Would you like to dance?”

“No!” She spoke softly yet emphatically. “Tommy, I’m going home.”

“Home? Hey look, we just got here. What’s come over you all of a sudden?”

“I’m not going to make a scene here. If you drive me home now, you’ll find out in good time. If not, I’ll call a cab.”

“Of course I’ll drive you home, but hadn’t we better wait and tell Bill and Helen where we’re going?”

“I said now! I’ve already told Helen.”

He slipped a bill under his glass and followed Sue. He overtook her in the lobby, and they walked in silence to the car. When they had left the lights and the Saturday-night traffic far behind, Tommy boke the silence.

“Now what’s this all about, Sue?”

“While we were in the powder room, Helen remembered where she had met you before.”

“Well?”

“It was at the Delta Tau Sigma dance last month; the one you said you couldn’t take me to because you’d just had the car fixed and were short of money. You had enough to take that blond vixen Marilyn Willcox, though, didn’t you? And those weekends you said you couldn’t get home because you had heavy studying to do. You were studying, all right, but not out of books. There are probably names for people like you. I wish I could think of one low enough.”

Tommy switched off the ignition and the car coasted to a stop in front of her house.

She unfastened his fraternity pin from her dress.

“Here,” she said, throwing it in his lap, “you’ll need it for future conquests.”

In an instant she was out of the car. She ran up the front steps, tore open the screen door, and slammed it behind her. Then everything was quiet except for the lament of a lonely bullfrog in the distance.

Tommy turned the pin over and over in his hand. Slowly a relieved smile spread across his face. Perhaps it was better this way. Anger is so much easier to take than tears. After all, he had promised Marilyn his pin on their very next date.

And a promise was a promise.

– – – – – – – – –

With boxes upon boxes of writings from long-ago years still to go through, I can only imagine the treasures that await. Each poem, letter, and short story provides another piece to the puzzle of Mom and Dad’s early days.

“Double Date” © 1948 Harold E. Vayo. All rights reserved.

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