The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [200]
They followed the other couples towards the ballroom. Studs was afraid he wouldn’t dance well, and was too excited to say anything clearly to her. But he felt quite proud that others could see him with Lucy, see how well-dressed she was. A spine-shivering solo from the saxophone broke into his attention. It made him sad and want to be reckless. He walked down the steps with her, and saw the dancers inside, wheeling, and spinning on the glossy floor in dim lights.
The Blue Room was square-shaped, with French windows on two sides, a vaulted ceiling, and pillars in the center of the floor. The decoration was in a blue motif. He danced a little stiffly. The mere touching of her in the dance postures made him want to crush her to him, squeeze her against him almost to the point of breaking her bones, tell her that goddamn it, she had to be his woman, and there was no other side to the question. It made him gloomy. Some said a dose could never be cured, although his doctor said otherwise. Maybe even if she did love him and would marry him, he’d never be able to. A sudden vision of him ruining her for all times came to him like a nightmare. They swung into a patch of colored orange light, and then passed the tuxedoed orchestra, which was playing wildly on a dais. She let herself go against him, drew back. He wanted her close against him, wanted to feel her belly hot against him. He didn’t have the nerve.
The lights brightened, and the music stopped. Following the example of other fellows, he clapped perfunctorily. A fat blond girl smiled at him. He smiled hack, not knowing who she was. Must be a sorority sister of Fran’s. It was pleasing, though, to have people he didn’t know remembering him.
“Studs, you dance nicely,” Lucy said.
He tried to take the compliment modestly, but wondered if she was only pulling his leg, the way janes always enjoyed pulling a guy’s leg. He guessed, though, he did dance well enough to get by. And he wanted Fran, everybody to notice it. If he and Lucy went together, he’d learn how to dance as good as all the cake-eaters, even Rolfe. He saw Rolfe with Loretta at the other end of the room. Fritzie looked sweet in her new black velvet dress; too sweet for Rolfe.
The music commenced, and he tried to dance more swiftly, like so many of the guys did, and they got out of step and Lucy almost tumbled on the floor. She smiled, then laughed. There seemed to be a twinkle in her eye, the twinkle in the eye of the old Lucy, and he was reminded of the way she’d smiled at the party at his house on the night of their graduation.
“You trying to win a race or go to a fire?” she asked.
“We better not go so fast,” he said with gravity.
He passed Rolfe and Fritzie, holding his head erect. His face was grave, and he nodded curtly. Phil smiled back at him, and then bent down to say something to Fritzie. She smiled sweetly at him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” said Lucy.
“I was just noticing my kid sister.”
“Oh.”
She turned and smiled at Fritzie.
“I’ll bet she’d like to hear you calling her your kid sister. She’s a young lady now.”
He went outside of Carroll Dowson and Fran. They smiled at him; he nodded back.
“You know a lot of people here,” he said to make conversation, noticing how many couples she greeted.
“Oh, you meet everybody, here and there,” she said with intended casualness.
“Yeah, it’s tough being popular.”
“Now, don’t you go getting sarcastic,” she said, but not angrily.
Christ, he felt that he was acting and talking like a goddamn dingbat. Well, if it was so, he was only getting what he had bargained for. He looked into Lucy’s face, and away, and felt again the desire to crush her to him.
Fran and Dowson joined them after the dance. She bestowed an approving glance on Studs and told Lucy that she looked lovely and darling. She said with enthusiasm that the dance was way over, and