The beach was crowded, and the moment the party found a spot big enough they spread out a blanket and agreed to leave two people behind to guard it while the other two went in the water.
“You go first,” Mike said. “We’ll hold the fort for you.”
Debbie intended to allow Con to decide how long they should stay in the water. They were in no hurry to get out, but after a while Debbie thought it was unfair to deny her hosts their time in the water. “We should give them an equal chance,” she said.
“The longer we stay, the longer they’ll feel entitled to,” Con answered with the faintest of smiles. Debbie could barely imagine how Con planned to use his parents’ absence, considering how crowded the beach was. But then, she’d already learned how reckless he could be. Trouble was, beneath her feeling of safety was the wish that they actually did have the beach to themselves — or, perhaps, that they were in some other place, such as her room at the back of the Flynns’ house.
What happened next was totally acceptable on a crowded beach, and Debbie herself started it. Being naturally pale-skinned, she had experienced painful sunburn in the past and did not wish to be reminded of how it felt. So she dried herself as best she could and lay face down on the blanket. She reached into her bag and pulled out a squeeze bottle of sunscreen lotion.
“Con,” she asked in the most casual tone, “would you mind doing my back?”
Con took the bottle and surveyed the fraught task confronting him. Debbie’s swimsuit was not particularly provocative, but between the shoulder straps the cutout descended all the way to her waist. Con interpreted her back to include her neck, shoulders, arms, legs, and the revealed part of her torso.
“Arms and legs too?” he asked.
“Everything that’s showing. It’s all going to get burned if I don’t protect it.”
He took the bottle and surveyed the field from above before kneeling to apply the lotion. Beginning with her wrists, he worked his way up to her shoulders. The shoulder straps stopped him. “What about these?” he asked. “Just push them aside,” she answered, wondering why he bothered to ask. Maybe he hoped that she’d pull them down or, better, that she’d ask him to. But she did neither and he did exactly as asked.
That was the easy part. The legs were longer and more contoured. The distinction between applying lotion and caressing was so subtle that he knew he could deny any implication of impropriety. That is, until he was midway up her left thigh. “How high shall I go?”
“To the edge of the swimsuit, of course.” She stopped short of adding “no farther,” uncertain whether she’d be stirring his fantasies or her own. She spread her legs just enough to signal how far to go in that direction and ignored his hesitation as he applied the last dabs.
He next turned to her back, feeling his hands descend as they reached the narrowest part of her waist and be prevented by the edge of her swimsuit from going farther. The rest was left to his imagination.
“Do you want me to do the front too?” The words slipped out before he realized fully what she might think he was implying. To his surprise she replied matter-of-factly, “Yes please,” and turned over. Only limbs now, no torso. As he reached the upper parts of her thighs, it occurred to him that in any other place, say sitting on a sofa or in a movie house, placing his hands there would have been risky indeed. Yet here, on the beach within view of countless sunbathers, it barely attracted attention. He closed his eyes and let his imagination run free as he applied the last dabs of lotion. When he opened them, he was staring right into the face of his father, who had returned from the water unseen.
Gladys, standing just behind Mike, said: “Do you think that’s a good idea, Con?” Con was struck dumb but saved further embarrassment when Mike answered his wife. “It’s OK, Gladys. Debbie doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe she even enjoys it.”
Debbie, sitting up, defended herself. “He was just helping me with the sunscreen. I burn easily.”
“Yes, I understand,” Mike said. Debbie felt she was being accused of something but there were no accusing words to respond to. So she simply covered her legs with a towel.
“Maybe we should go,” she said. “I do have to get a bus back to Philadelphia, and I don’t want to get home too late. What with the walk to the car, the ride back to Brooklyn, getting my stuff, subway to the Port Authority Terminal, bus to Philadelphia, and local train at the other hand, it’ll be close to midnight by the time I get home.”
Gladys spoke up at this point. “Oh dear, I was hoping you’d stay another night and go home after breakfast. That would make everything so much simpler.”
“You heard her, Gladys,” Mike said. “She wants to go home tonight.”
Yes, Gladys had heard Debbie. She had also heard that Mike had his own reason for wanting to curtail Debbie’s visit. His facial expression did not reflect concern for Debbie’s long travel time.
Con and Debbie did not speak to each other until they were back in Brooklyn. He came up to her room to help her pack and closed the door.
She was on the verge of tears. “Your father seems to think I’m some kind of slut. But we weren’t doing anything wrong. The whole world could see us.”
“He can be such an asshole,” Con said, taking her by the shoulders. “At least my mother has some common sense. Obviously she thought it was all quite harmless.”
“And I did enjoy it,” he went on. “Didn’t you?”
She looked him in the eye. “Yes, I did. Maybe that’s what bothered your dad. Maybe he thought I was seducing you.”
“Were you?”
“No!” She pushed him away playfully. “I just needed sunscreen, and as long as you were willing to apply it, that was fine with me.”
Of course, there was more, as both knew and neither needed to say.
Debbie thanked Gladys for the invitation to stay longer but decided to start home. Con walked her to the subway station and gave her the necessary instructions for making connections.
“Are you still coming to Philadelphia?” she asked, wondering whether Mike would give him a hard time.
“Absolutely. Just let me know when your brother’s going to be there. I’d like to meet him too.”
Con walked back down to find his parents on the porch. His father was in a vastly improved mood. “Your mother talked sense into me. That girl is good for something!”
“That — is — not — what — I — meant!” Gladys shouted angrily. “Whatever’s going through your mind, I think Debbie is a lovely girl and I like her.”
“And she has a nice figure — especially for a Jew,” Mike went on, undaunted.
“Do you hold that against her? Twenty years ago I had a nice figure too, and it didn’t bother you a bit.”
“OK, OK. It’ll probably come to nothing. Just let Con enjoy her, and then he can get serious with a Catholic girl.”
Con, who witnessed this exchange, gritted his teeth and quietly asked his father, “Was I supposed to hear all that?”
“You bet, son,” his father answered. “You may as well know what I think. I’m giving it to you straight.”
Con left the porch without comment. So Debbie had a nice figure . . . especially for a Jew. He found his mother in the kitchen, visibly upset. “Sometimes I get so angry at your father,” she said. “I hope you understand that there are things he and I disagree on. If you get tired of Debbie, well, that’s the natural course of things at your age. But don’t let the views your father expressed be the cause.”
Con kissed his mother on the cheek and went into the backyard.
❖❖❖❖❖
“So, tell us about your weekend,” Max said at breakfast. “There must be lots to tell.”
“Oh, there is,” Debbie answered, “if you have time to listen to it all.”
Max pushed back his chair, crossed his legs, and folded his arms. “I’m making myself comfortable, so I don’t have to interrupt. Go ahead.”
Debbie did as asked, starting with the long subway ride to Yankee Stadium, the game, the dinner, the after-dinner neighborhood walk, church, and of course the beach.
Max couldn’t help interrupting. “They took you to church! Fascinating. How was it?”
“I was scared before we went, but once there I enjoyed it, especially the organ. I didn’t care much for the sermon, and I didn’t kneel. But nobody seemed to mind; I wasn’t the only one.”
“But you didn’t take dressy clothes, did you?” Esther said. “What did you wear?”
“Mrs. Flynn lent me clothes, even helped fit me. She’s wonderful.”
Both Max and Esther waited to hear more, about Mrs. Flynn and particularly about the hitherto unmentioned Mr. Flynn. But Debbie didn’t volunteer more.
“And Mr. Flynn?” Esther asked. Max stopped chewing.
“I’m not sure where to start,” Debbie said after a short pause. Then she recounted Mike’s views on integrating baseball; the way he’d studied her when she turned down the breakfast meats; and his remarks about the beach scene.
“Goodness,” Esther said, “that doesn’t sound welcoming at all. Did Mrs. Flynn react to her husband’s remarks?”
Debbie looked admiringly at her mother: always asking just the right questions.
“Yes, she got good and mad at him. Like I said, she’s wonderful. To be honest, I like her a lot and him not at all.”
“Justifiable,” Max said. “But don’t you think his reaction at the beach was understandable? I mean, OK, you weren’t doing anything improper, especially in open view of the beach crowd, but Mr. Flynn, as a father, could have been looking beyond that. I’m imagining myself right there next to him and also having second thoughts.”
“Daddy,” Debbie said, “Mr. Flynn wasn’t just talking about what we were — what he thought we were — doing. He was talking about me, describing my character in very unflattering terms.”
Max thought a moment. “Yes, I see that. But you did give him an opening, don’t you think?”
“I guess so,” Debbie admitted. “I just think you’d have handled it differently.”
Max quietly wondered whether he would. Mr. Flynn had instinctively wanted to protect his son from possible scandal; he, Max, would have been equally or even more concerned about his daughter. He did not comment on Debbie’s remarks, and Esther filled the silence.
“OK, let’s get to the central character. Did you invite Con to visit,” she asked.
“Yes. He said he’d like to meet Josh as well, and I promised to let him know when Josh is coming.”
“He called yesterday. He’s coming next Friday and staying through Labor Day. So give Con a call and ask him what’s most convenient for him.”
“Great. I’ll do that tonight.”