Dan Wakefield - Under the Apple Tree - A Novel

“You got to get hold of yourself,” Artie said in his manly new voice, which he tried to make even deeper so it sounded like the ad for Lifebuoy soap when the bass voice warned against getting “BO,” which stood for “body odor.”

“Got to celebrate the big V-E,” Fishy protested. “Don’t you listen to the box?”

“Sure, I heard about V-E Day on the radio, but what’s that got to do with chasing girls?”

“Says on the box in Chi, New York, Frisco—soldiers and sailors all smoochin’ the skirts in the streets to celebrate.”

“You’re not a soldier or sailor, though.”

“Any guy’s got patriotism can kiss the girls.”

“That’s in the city , fella. People do anything in the city.”

“Foog. Maybe I’ll roll up to Chi.”

“It’ll be all over by the time you get there. The kissing part, anyway. They can’t just keep doing it, even in cities. Otherwise, you couldn’t have traffic or anything.”

“Foog and double foog.”

“Well, I gotta go see a man about a horse.”

Artie got up all the sudden and left a dime on the table to pay for the Cokes. Fishy had given him a great idea, but he didn’t want to let on about it.

He went straight to Caroline Spingarn’s house and asked if she wanted to dance.

That’s what you did now if you wanted to make out. You danced. Everyone had seemed to realize all at once that spin-the-bottle was just a little kids’ excuse for necking, and the more mature, grown-up thing to do was put on a nice record so you could press your bodies together and go from there.

Caroline looked kind of suspicious at first when Artie showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the day asking to dance, but then she brightened up and said it just so happened she had a neat new record of “Swinging on a Star” if he wanted to dance to it. They went down to her basement game room, plugged in the Victrola, and Artie did a few jitterbug steps to the music before he pulled Caroline right up against him and planted one right on her mouth.

Caroline hauled off and slapped him one.

“What’s the big idea?”

“Don’t you even know? It’s V-E Day. Everyone’s kissing everyone, unless they’re unpatriotic or something.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“I figured you heard it on the radio.”

“I heard about V-E, but not about kissing.”

“Well, they’re doing it. New York, Chi, Frisco, everywhere.”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said, and went and turned off the record.

“Don’t know what? You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you.”

“What’s wrong, then?”

“It doesn’t seem right to go whole hog when just half the War is over.”

She folded her arms across her waist.

“Well,” Artie said, “you got to keep up morale to win the other half.”

“It doesn’t seem like the thing to go around kissing when Our Boys are still fighting and dying to beat Japan. You of all people should understand that. I mean, your own brother was wounded over there.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Artie felt pretty crummy when she brought that up, but then he found something good about it.

“When we beat Japan, I guess then is the time to go whole hog.”

“At least then the whole thing will be over, not just part of it.”

“Right! Listen, I’ll see you V-J Day!”

One hot August night after supper Artie was lying on the living room floor reading Knute Rockne, All-American , this book about the life of the greatest football coach in the history of the world, when suddenly he heard banging on the front door like someone was trying to break the house down.

“Hold your horses!” Artie yelled, and hurried to the door, scratching at the hair on his belly.

Fishy Mitchelman was standing there all decked out in his zoot suit, holding his gym bag. Before Artie could say anything, Fishy pointed to him and started singing, telling him to get his coat and hat and leave his worries. Artie opened the door, but instead of coming in, Fishy did a little jiggle step and motioned like he wanted Artie to follow him to “The Sunny Side of the Street.”

“What’s up? You going somewhere?”

“Rollin’ up to Chi. Wanna come?”

“Why? What’s goin’ on?”

“V-J Day! Smoochin’ in the streets!”

“Hey, don’t joke about something like that. The Japs have got to surrender first.”

“Laid down the foogin’ sword five minutes ago, said so on the box.”

As if to confirm the story, a fire siren started to wail, and the church bell began ringing.

“Wa-haaaaaa!” Artie yelled at the top of his voice.

“Grab your taps, Gates. Train to Chi at ten.”

“You really goin’ to Chicago, right now, at night ? Your Mom’s letting you?”

“Trixie? She’s comin’ too. Let’s perambulate!”

“Fish, I can’t just go to Chicago. I never even been there.”

“Do anything now, the War’s over!”

“Look, you go ahead, have a good time.”

Fishy shrugged, lifted his right hand and wiggled his finger as he pranced down the steps toward the street, singing.

Artie tried to call Caroline Spingarn, but the line was busy. Probably everyone’s line was busy all over America, people calling all their friends and relatives to talk about the war being over. Suddenly Artie remembered Roy, and was ashamed that his first thought was making out with a girl instead of giving thanks that his own brother had come through the War alive. He went to his room and closed the door, getting down on his knees by the window like he used to do, like he hadn’t done since way back last winter. He thanked God for ending the War and keeping Roy alive all through it, and prayed that now everything would get back to normal and life would be like it was supposed to be again, with everyone working hard and having a swell time. After his prayer he lay down on his bed and examined the hairs on his chest, looking for new ones. He pulled on the ones that were there, figuring that might make them get longer. Caroline had never even seen the hairs on his chest, so she didn’t know he was really becoming a man. Maybe tomorrow instead of just going by her house and trying to grab a V-J kiss in the basement dancing to some jivey record he’d invite her to go for a picnic and swim out at Skinner Creek. They could have a long philosophic talk about the War, the plans for Peacetime, and the meaning of Life. And all the time he’d be wearing his bathing suit and she could see the hairs on his chest.

Caroline lay on the rock in her bathing suit, sunning herself. Her eyes were closed, and she looked like one of those starlets that the guys overseas were always voting The Girl I’d Most Like To Be Under A Palm Tree With. That was great, but Artie was disappointed that she wouldn’t go in swimming.

“I can’t,” she said.

“How come?”

“Artie, there are certain things a girl can’t do at certain times, when she gets to be a certain age, and certain things happen.”

“Oh,” he said. “I get it.”

She was riding the rag. That’s what the guys called it, anyway, when girls were having their curse. He didn’t actually know what it all meant or why it happened, except it showed a girl was growing up and could have babies, and that meant she could go all the way. He never knew it had anything to do with swimming, but he tried not to let on. He just hoped not being able to swim didn’t have anything to do with not being able to kiss, but he couldn’t figure why it should. Caroline looked perfectly normal, lying there on the rock in her shiny blue bathing suit, in fact if anything she looked better than normal.