By the Light of the Moon, Part 3

Read Part 1 & Part 2 for the full story. Be sure to come back for Part 4 later this week!

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On Friday, I finished work early and immediately returned to my dorm to shower and change. With the student discount tickets for the play in hand, I stepped into another spectacular fall evening, pleasantly warm without significant humidity.

My plan was to take public transportation down to the theater at Eighth and Lombard Streets. If the weather remained pleasant and the hour not too late, we’d walk back to campus. I arrived at Hill Hall on time and immediately phoned Susan’s floor from the lobby.

“Suite 4b, this is Janet speaking.”

I asked to speak to Susan. I heard a clattering bang as Janet put the phone down to fetch her. I was left with the distant sound of people talking and moving about, Janet calling Susan, Susan acknowledging the call, then footsteps as I imagined Susan coming to pick up the receiver.

My anticipation grew. I quickly practiced what I was going to say, hoping I wouldn’t forget my own name. The phone rattled again when someone picked it up. I prepared for Susan.

“She’ll be down in a minute. How are you doing?” I relaxed. “Ellen? I wanted to talk to Susan.”

“She’s on her way down. You’re here, right? I hope you realize that dates usually pick her up in fancy cars. Paul Steven’s chauffeur picked her up in a limo the other night.”

“Tough competition. I can provide public transportation, my company, a ticket to the show, and ice cream later if I have some money left over.”

“You’re hopeless.”

I got off the phone with Ellen, moved into the lobby, and rested against the rail overlooking the dining room. Some diners still lingered but the staff had stopped serving. The snack bar was open for short-order food and snacks.

I periodically glanced in the direction of Susan’s suite, then checked the clock on the wall. The few minutes that passed before she emerged seemed endless.

Then, she appeared as she started down the stairs from the second floor. Over her shoulders, she draped a light green shawl that matched the flowers on her knee-length skirt.

As she walked toward me, I imagined that she was in a field of tall grass that waved to-and-fro as she gracefully moved through it. Her hair trailed behind her in the gentle breeze as her dress rose just above her knees revealing her thighs.

I looked away from her for a moment, and my heart skipped a beat. The people in the lobby had all turned to gaze in her direction. Susan greeted me when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes sparkled.

“We better go. My private train is meeting us at Thirty-fourth and Market.” I motioned to the door. As we left the dorm, I snuck a glance up at the balcony of suite 4b. All of Susan’s hall mates, Ellen among them, hung by the railing watching as we departed.

“We’re going to take the El,” I said. “That’s short for elevated. The elevated train in Philadelphia runs underground.”

“Actually,” Susan began with kind reassurance, “in New York, we have this type of public transportation.”

“Yeah? But I thought they called it the subway.”

“They have elevated trains, too.”

“I’m going to make this a personal tour,” I continued. “We will begin with the fine art that decorates the walls. Then, we can play a game I call, ‘what’s in the bag of our fellow riders.’”

Susan laughed. I made her laugh. I smiled.

We talked all the way to the subway. I learned more about her courses and her plans to become a physical therapist. I told her I was a biology major and recently signed up for pre-med. She was modest and unassuming. Most surprisingly, she seemed totally unaware of her beauty which only served to heighten her attractiveness.

“We originally lived in a small community on Long Island near Queens. When I was in seventh grade, our family moved to the north shore, a town called Roslyn,” she explained.

She described her home and I imagined a massive estate with a long tree-lined drive that ended in a circle before the grand entrance to an East Egg-style mansion. She told me about her parents, her little sister, and especially her dog, Mike, an oversized German Shepherd around whom one never said, K-I-L-L.

We arrived in Center City with plenty of time to walk the rest of the way to Eighth and Lombard. We entered the theater, found our seats, and waited for the play to begin.

I watched the performance intently, even enjoyed it, but in the end, I thought I missed something. I realized how little I had gotten out of reading it as a freshman. When the clapping stopped and the players finished taking their bows, I turned to Susan.

“Well, do you think they are still waiting? That was a sorry lot of characters, don’t you think? The whole thing was a little strange,” I said.

“I’m glad I saw it before I read it. I’m not sure I understand it all.” Susan paused, stood, and we filed out of the theater. Once on the street, we began to talk again. She spoke about the use of symbolism and commentary on life. I nodded and encouraged her, captivated by her perceptions and reasoning. 

A smile spread across my face and I relaxed my jaw. She seemed to enjoy the play. Points made about it in class came back to me and it began to make more sense. I took issue with some of her comments and offered some of my own. The ebb and flow of the conversation continued as we walked.

When we reached Walnut Street, I suggested we walk back to campus. It was only another twenty-four blocks or so. Susan smiled and gestured for me to lead on. Many people were still about and the night air was still and fresh, as fresh as night air can be in the center of a major city.

We proceeded at a comfortable pace, past the teen-numbered streets and into the twenties. Our conversation drifted away from the play and school. “What do you like to do for fun?” I asked.

“I like to swim. I tried out for the team. I kept getting lapped by this one girl. Turns out, she is training for the Olympics. Did you know that there is a group that does synchronized swimming? I may switch to that. How about you, what about your family?”

“That would be Ellen, my mom, and I. We live in an apartment just outside of Philadelphia. My parents are divorced. Mom works at the University, so my sister and I can attend tuition-free. We’re both very grateful for that.”

Just past Twenty-Fourth Street, we entered the bridge over the Schuylkill River. When we reached its center, I stopped.

“Look back at the city,” I told Susan and pointed east. “It’s beautiful at night. Far away are the tall buildings, some with lights still on, grand and important. Now, consider the sorry rundown structures by the river. In this light, they’re also beautiful, all different shades of gray with only two dimensions.”

I stopped to let Susan take in the view. “Can you tell whether the bricks are faded or that the windows are broken? Can you see the rusted derelict equipment on the ground and the remnants of once used railroad tracks overgrown with weeds? You can’t.”

I pointed down. “Now, look at the river. It’s a dead river, black at night and black during the day. What a waste but observe how the moonlight strikes the crests of the miniature waves created by the current. Their reflection sparkles like diamonds. That’s magic.”

I paused and gazed at Susan as she studied the moonlight reflecting off the water. How stunning she was by the light of the moon. I wanted to take her in my arms and press my lips against hers. I shook with desire and anticipation. I started to move my hand along the rail on which we leaned toward hers but hesitated.

“Do you like fishing?” I asked with sudden urgency in my voice. “When I come to a body of water, even a puddle, it cries out to me. Drop a line in, catch a big one.”

“I fished at summer camp,” Susan replied. “I hated it. Catching the fish was all right. I don’t like taking them off the hook.”

“I could do that for you,” I blurted out.

Susan turned to me. She knit her brow again. Does she think I was going to ask her out for a fishing date? I took the cue.

“No more fishing talk,” I said. “Come on, let’s go. I want to get back to campus before the snack bar at Hill Hall closes.” I took her hand and gently coaxed Susan on again. She didn’t pull her hand away. Our pace may have slowed but our conversation did not.

Once inside Hill Hall, we made our way to the snack bar.

“Do you realize that we just walked four miles? Want something to drink or eat?” I asked hoping I had enough money left to cover the bill.

“What are you having?” Susan asked.

“I think I’ll have a root beer float.”

“That sounds perfect. I was thinking of having a soda but the water they make it with tastes awful. A root beer float then, I’ll have that too.”

I ordered two root beer floats: a financially sound suggestion given my resources.

We took our drinks to the next floor and sat on the steps leading up to the suites. We continued to talk long after we finished them. A peek at the clock told me curfew was fast approaching. The doors shut at 2 a.m. on Fridays. I wanted to stay but the campus guard was already rounding up the men and moving them to the exit.

“Looks like they’re going to kick me out,” I said as I pointed in the direction of the guard. “Is it hard for you to study here in the dorm? I found a great place on the fourth floor of the library, quiet, no fooling around.”

Susan smiled. “Fourth floor of the library? Is that where I can find you?”

“Yes, I’m always there but you’re not obligated to come. I mean, please consider joining me. I do all my heavy-duty studying there from 7:30 to 11:30 every night, Monday to Thursday, and sometimes Friday and Sunday. I sit at a large table with plenty of room, comfortable chairs, air conditioning on hot days, heat in the winter, bathrooms, and a water fountain.”

The guard approached. Susan stood and started to move up the stairs. I gazed up at her. She stepped down, touched my hand, and kissed my cheek. My heart flipped.

“I really had a good time, Joe. See you at dinner or maybe the library.”

“Okay, Romeo. Time to go,” the guard said as he reached me.

I walked backward, watching Susan ascend the stairs. I couldn’t wait to be with her again. With a burst of energy, I hit the street, compelled to run, to make the world a blur, to feel the cool night air rush by me as I cut through it like a knife. I propelled myself fast enough to barely perceive my feet on the ground and in doing so, achieved a feeling close to flight.

I didn’t break stride until just before reaching the front door to my dorm. Short of breath, my energy spent, I touched a finger to my lips as another smile spread across my face.

The next morning on my way to breakfast, I bumped into Ellen. “Did you talk to Susan after she got back from our date?” I blurted without even saying hello first.

“Susan arrived in the hall at curfew, Bonnie was waiting for her. She carried a clipboard with messages for Susan.” Ellen paused and glared at me. “Tell me you didn’t really make her walk back from the theater. Couldn’t you spring for the subway fare? And then, all you bought her was a root beer float. You’re a sport.”

“But did she tell you she had a great time?”

“She said it was romantic, but then, I’m your sister. What is she going to say to me?”

After we parted, I thought about what Ellen said. Susan found the evening romantic. A warmth welled up in my chest and my feet felt like dancing.

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Need more great reads? Check out these fantastic pieces from the MockingOwl Roost fam.

• By the Light of the Moon – Part 1 & Part 2
• In the Mediterranean at Midnight – Romance fiction
• Vacation to the Dragons of Io – Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3 – Science Fantasy fiction
• A Sighting – Nature fiction
• Where Would I Be Without You? – Dark comedy romance fiction
• Emma’s Place – Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3 – Emotive fiction