Page 43 of Twice
“Was that a Friday or Saturday?”
“Friday, February third.”
“Wow. You sure?”
“I remember ’cause it was Pete’s birthday. Why?”
I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I whispered the wordtwiceand landed back at that party, with a red plastic cup of beer in my hand. I looked at the crowd. I looked at the beer. I saw Maisie approaching and heard Elliot holler, “This is my friend Alfie! He needs sex badly!”
Before she could say anything, I yelled, “This is my friend, Elliot, he’s totally wasted!” Then I lowered my voice to Maisie and said, “I don’t really need sex.”
“Too bad,” she said.
I took an awkward sip of beer and excused myself. I went home a few minutes later. I didn’t sleep with Maisie, or any of the other girls in the repeated weeks that followed. It didn’t really change things. It didn’t make me a virgin again. I was just trying to feel better about myself. And to be better for Gianna. Not that she knew anything about it.
?
Summer came, and once again, Gianna and I were three thousand miles apart. I called her in California, just to say hello, and she mentioned that she was coming to visit her roommate in early August.
“Can we please get together?” I asked. “I promise the car won’t break down this time.”
She half laughed and finally agreed. “But if you stand me up, Alfie, I will never speak to you again.”
We arranged to meet on a Tuesday at noon. The plan was to walk around downtown Philadelphia, maybe get some pizza.
Two days before our rendezvous, they started talking about the weather. A huge storm was coming. A hurricane moving up the coast. I didn’t want to know. I saw this day as a chance to clear the slate with Gianna, away from school, away from other friends or guys she knew. Nothing could interfere.
The night before, my father watched the TV news and said, “This storm is a whopper. They’re saying we might get five inches of rain. Make sure you don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t,” I lied.
Now, these days, Boss, I follow weather all the time, especially if it’s going to be rough and I need to secure the beach house. Put up the storm shutters, check the caulking. It’s part of my job. You even joke about me and rain, how I sit on the deck and stare at it, getting soaked. You once said “Alfie, you must be part frog.” I guess it looks that way.
But back then, when I was twenty years old, wind, rain, lightning, they were just annoyances. If you wanted to do something fun, you found a way. And meeting Gianna was more than fun. It was going to be the day I told her how I felt.
?
I got to the city early. The air was thick, and the wind was already swaying traffic lights. You could feel the dark, looming clouds ready to explode.
Gianna and I had arranged to meet on the corner of Eighth and Market Streets, by a department store called Gimbels. I chose that spot deliberately, because her birthday was the following day, and I wanted to get her a present. A taxi dropped me off an hour before our meeting, and I went in and started wandering up and down the aisles.
There were few customers. I guess the storm had scared most people off. Searching for the right gift, I entered the women’s clothing area and flipped through sweaters and blouses. Then I realized I had no clue what size Gianna was and would inevitably pick something wrong or insulting.
So I moved on to the perfume section, where a boredworker offered to spray my wrist with fragrance. I realized I also knew nothing about perfumes. Or body sprays or eau de toilette, whatever that was. So I followed a sign into the jewelry section and perused the glass cases of rings, watches, necklaces, and bracelets.
“How much is that one?” I asked the saleswoman, pointing to a simple shiny stone on a gold chain.
“That’s half a carat, bezel set,” she said, pulling it out. “Very nice. It’s two thousand.”
She must have seen my Adam’s apple jump up my neck.
“Maybe something simpler?” she said.
“Yeah,” I rasped.
“What does she like? The person you’re getting this for?”
I thought for a moment.
