Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

moved toward his when he released them. "Will you save me a dance?"
    "Of course I will, Gavin. In fact, you will be the first person I dance with, okay?"
    "First?" The idea seemed to frighten him. He knew it would make us the object of everyone's attention.
    "Why not?"
    "Maybe you should dance with Jimmy first," he suggested.
    "I'll see," I said coquettishly. It made him blush. "Don't go hiding in a corner with Ricky Smith and Warren Steine. I’ll just come looking for you," I threatened playfully.
    "I won't hide," he said. "Not tonight; it's too special a night for you."
    "I hope it will be for you, too," I said and he brightened.
    Across the grounds, I saw Mommy waving and calling to me from the front of our house.
    "I have to get going," I said. "See you soon."
    I reached out and he did, too. Our fingers touched for an instant, the feeling sending a warm, electric sensation up my arm and through my bosom until it reached my heart and sent it fluttering. I turned to run off and stopped.
    "I'm glad you're here," I cried back.
    "Me too," he said.
    I ran on, crossing from the gloom of clouds into the sunshine that had broken through and promised me the most exciting night of my life. The ocean breeze kissed my face and lifted my hair. I was fleeing from childhood, rushing headlong onto the threshold of womanhood, both excited and terrified by the new and deeper feelings that lay in waiting.
     
    After my shower Mommy came in to do her hair and make-up beside me at my vanity table. Now that we were side by side, giggling excitedly about the upcoming extravaganza, I could see why most people thought we looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. Of course, Mommy had been so young when she had had me. She was only in her early thirties now, and she had the sort of face and complexion that would take centuries to show her age. I hoped I would look just like her forever and ever, but at this moment, with our faces next to each other in the glass, I could vividly see the differences, differences that had to be attributed to my father. I paused in brushing down my bangs.
    "What did he look like, Mommy?" I suddenly blurted.
    "He?"
    "My real father?" I said. Somehow, gazing at each other through the mirror made it seem as if we were speaking to each other from a distance and that distance made the questions and the answers easier to ask and to answer. I was hoping Mommy would seize the opportunity to tell me now the things she had promised she would tell me tonight.
    "Oh," she said and continued to brush her hair for a few moments. I thought she wasn't going to answer. Then she stopped. "He was very handsome, movie-star handsome, with broad shoulders and dark, silky hair," she said, her voice quiet and sounding far-away. "He always looked elegant and he had these dark blue eyes that sparkled with an impish glint." She smiled at her memories. "All the girls at the school were totally in love with him, of course. And he knew it!" she added, brushing her hair harder. "You will never meet a more arrogant . . ."
    I held my breath, afraid that if I moved or spoke, she would stop.
    "I was just another one of those wide-eyed, foolish teenage girls he took advantage of easily. I'm sure to him I was a sitting duck, swooning, believing everything he told me, walking around with my head in the clouds."
    "Do I have his eyes then?" I asked cautiously.
    "Yours are the same color, but his were usually oily slick and full of false promises."
    "I must have his mouth," I offered. She studied me a moment.
    "Yes, I suppose, and your chin is shaped like his. Sometimes, when you smile . . ." She stopped as if coming to her senses.
    "Was he always terrible, even in the beginning?" I asked quickly, hoping that she would keep talking about him.
    "Oh no. In the beginning he was beguiling, charming and loving. I believed everything he told me, swallowed a feast of his lies eagerly. But," she added, tilting her head, her eyes suddenly growing sad, "you have to remember, I was a young girl without any real family to call my own. Grandmother Cutler had agreed to send me to New York, mostly as a way to get rid of me, and my mother was incapable of helping herself, much less me. I was truly an orphan.
    "Then along came this devastatingly handsome, world-famous music star showering his attention on me, promising me I would someday sing alongside him on the world's greatest stages. Why wouldn't I fall head over heels and believe every promise? Like a