Chapter 1
The bar was crowded and noisy; it smelled of beer, sweat, smoke, desperation, and loneliness. Euro disco pulsed over the sound system, and lights, flashing slightly off the beat, swept across the gyrating bodies. Marlene Dross sipped her overpriced drink and surveyed her surroundings.
"I shouldn't have come," she thought. "I hate these places under the best of times…and this certainly isn't the best of times…" Marlene perched carefully on a stool near the end of the bar; it allowed her to see most of the room and protected her from any approaches from the back. She could see potential suitors who were willing to fight the crowd; there hadn't, fortunately, been many of those this evening. Her perch also benefited from its out of the way location, at least as far as Marlene was concerned. Her friend Maria—who insisted that Marlene accompany her on the grounds that she was brooding too much over her recent breakup—had quickly attracted the attention of several men. The few who managed to find and approach Marlene had been quickly discouraged by the ice queen persona she had adopted for the evening. She wasn't sure where her confidence came from—perhaps it was her new job as a translator for the West German Army's liaisons with its American counterparts; perhaps her survival of the recent collapse of her first serious romantic relationship; perhaps the short but sleek navy blue skirt and form fitting white turtleneck and the shiny, new leather boots (purchased with part of her first paycheck from her new job); or perhaps that she at least could now pretend to be the tough, smart, honest woman her mother hoped she might become after she named her daughter after Marlene Dietrich.
A burst of noise and activity from a group of young men at the opposite end of the bar attracted Marlene. There were about ten of them, all with the well nourished, bright white teeth, and confident looks of Americans. Soldiers, Marlene guessed, escaping for a few hours from life on the nearby base. Scattered throughout the bar were several groups of these young Americans, some of them acting with the frenzy of animals just released from cages. They weren't bad, Marlene reflected. She came in contact with them every day—polite, respectful, homesick boys, many of whom had never been more than a few hundred miles from their homes. But in places like this, traveling in packs, they could be obnoxious, even dangerous. In the course of the evening Marlene swatted away a few of these American mosquitoes, acts that caused her some regret. Unlike several of her fellow recent university graduates, Marlene didn't believe that all of the world's ills could be laid at America's feet—many, certainly, but not all.
Marlene knew her view of Americans was filtered through her mother's admiration of all things and people arriving from the United States. Her mother had been a little girl at the conclusion of World War II, and had filled Marlene's head with stories of the American GIs and their kindness, of their gifts of Hershey bars and Wrigley gum and warm blankets. Her mother dreamed of visiting America, but the death of her husband and the need to care for her daughter kept that desire from being more than a dream. Now that Marlene had a good job, she hoped to help her mother achieve that and several other dreams.
Marlene smiled as she examined the small flocks of young Americans. Her mother was pleased that her daughter had found such a good job, but she worried about Marlene's exposure to, as she put it, "so many lonely boys." Her mother wanted to protect her daughter from heartache, not knowing that Marlene had already dealt with a fair amount of it. Marlene's pretty blonde looks, her intelligence, and her sweet nature attracted men, but, she thought, not always the best men.
"Well," Marlene thought. "I've learned not to fall in love with my teacher, my roommate's brother, my boss…sometimes you have to experience it…and all the pain."
Marlene was suddenly aware that a figure from one of the flocks was wading carefully through the crowd towards her.
"Wonderful." Marlene mentally gritted her teeth. "Another one…well, I can always pretend that I don't understand English."
The figure stood in front of her, and, in spite of her annoyance, Marlene was intrigued. The young man—barely more than a boy, she thought—was considerably more sober and polite than the men who approached her earlier. He was tall even for an American and just beginning to lose the gawky sense of not being sure of what to do with his long arms and legs. His dark brown curls were less disciplined than the hair of his companions, and his face appeared terribly young. But it was the chocolate eyes resting in the face that intrigued Marlene; the age of those eyes didn't seem to fit with the youth of the face.
"Please," the figure said in hesitant but only slightly accented German. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you…and if you want me to go away I will…but I…I wonder if I could ask a huge favor of you?"
Marlene studied the young man carefully. Either he was a superb actor or he was very shy and courteous. She sipped her drink as she considered her reply.
"Is," he asked, "my German that bad?"
A smile came to Marlene's lips. "No," she answered genially in English. "It's quite good. Although I bet my English may be a little better."
The young man looked surprised and relieved. He smiled. Marlene thought he had a wonderful smile.
"Thank you," he replied in English. "The truth is my ability to speak German is pretty limited."
"You're doing rather well…and at least you know it," Marlene said.
"Ah, but you haven't heard me dealing with any difficult verbs." He cocked his head. "Your English is excellent."
"Thank you," Marlene said and felt her cheeks redden slightly. He had found one of her vanities; Marlene was very proud of her linguistic skills. "It's very useful."
"I think I've seen you at the base," the young man said thoughtfully.
"Yes…" Marlene hesitated. Her work was occasionally sensitive, and she couldn't tell even an American soldier much about it.
"But," he said as if reading her mind. "You can't tell me much about it. Well, I don't think I can tell you much about what I do there either."
Marlene shared his smile. "So, what is this favor you need?"
He was ill at ease again. "Truth is…you're sorta doing it right now…"
Marlene's smile grew wider. "Just by talking to you?"
"This is embarrassing," he said, shifting on his feet. "The guys were giving me a hard time because this…" He waved a large hand at the bar. "It's not where…I don't usually come…and when I do…I don't…" Marlene thought he appeared younger and shyer by the minute. "I don't talk to the girls…I…uh…I…"
A light shone in Marlene's mind. She took pity on the young man. "So…they challenged you…or you made a bet…to talk to me…"
The young man stared at his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck. "It…it didn't seem so…I'm sorry."
Marlene saw a group of young men watching her and the young man with great interest. One or two members of the group had made some awkward approaches to her earlier in the evening. It might have been a desire to get some tiny revenge on those annoyances; the just enough to make her bold alcohol in her system; or the fact she liked this shy, charming boy/man, but Marlene was disposed to help him. She leaned forward.
"I think," she said sweetly. "That if we're going to have a conversation and maybe even a drink, we should know who we are." She extended a hand. "I'm Marlene."
His head shot up in surprise; he looked at her with enormous gratitude.
"Bobby," he said. "Thank you." Her small hand disappeared inside his large paw; his grip was surprisingly soft and gentle. He titled his head. "Marlene? Dietrich?"
Around Bobby—he was too tall to see over even though she was on a stool—Marlene saw his companions reacting with surprise, dismay, and, in at least two cases, satisfaction.
"Yes," Marlene said. "My mother is a great fan."
It became one of the more pleasant evening Marlene had enjoyed in some time. Bobby Goren—his last name, he told her with regret, wasn't German but Eastern European in origin—was quietly charming, quietly and enormously intelligent, and not so quietly curious. In spite of her usually reserved nature and determination to keep a distance, Marlene told Bobby a great deal about herself before she discovered he was from New York City. She nearly spilled both of their drinks when she jumped towards him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to frighten you…It's just…I've wanted to visit New York City all my life…It's my mother's dream…She loves all the movies about and set in the city…I have all of ON THE TOWN memorized…and all the movies with James Cagney…and I love Woody Allen…"
Bobby recovered from his shock and smiled. "You know, it's really not like any of the movies…There aren't gun battles in every street and Fred Astaire isn't dancing every night with Ginger Rogers in Central Park…"
"Or with Cyd Charisse," Marlene laughed.
"Sounds like your mom and mine might like the same movies," Bobby said, and a shadow crossed his face.
Marlene was too eager to learn about New York to register that shadow. In response to her questions, Bobby described some of his favorite places in the city. He told her about viewing the Statue of Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry; the grace and strength of the Brooklyn Bridge; the Art Deco designs glowing inside the Empire State Building; and the place he loved the most, the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue. In his enthusiasm Bobby revealed that he occasionally snuck into these places and the subway.
"You were a bad boy?" Marlene asked teasingly.
He reddened slightly. "Not bad…just poor. Ok," he said in response to her look, "a little bad."
"Riding the subway at night…by yourself? It wasn't dangerous?" Marlene asked.
Bobby smiled. "The subway trains aren't that dangerous…you just make sure you sit near the conductor…I'll grant that the stations and platforms can be a little scary."
Marlene glanced around the bar. It was late and the crowd thinning. "Your friends have left…will you be able to collect on your bet?"
"Yea…they're good guys…they keep their word…" He was shy again. "Besides…the bet…that's just an extra…I've really enjoyed talking to you…Thank you."
Marlene looked into her drink. The fact that her simple friendly gestures meant so much to Bobby touched her.
"I've enjoyed talking to you as well…thank you…you made this a very pleasant evening." Marlene scanned the dwindling crowd and saw no sign of Maria.
"Were you abandoned too?" Bobby asked.
"I'm afraid so," Marlene said. "Although I'm not surprised…I think my friend was using me as an excuse to come here…" She sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, Bobby…but I have to go…I have a bus to catch…" She smiled at him. "I've had a very good time, Bobby."
He looked at her shyly from beneath his long, dark lashes. "May I walk you to the stop…I have to catch a bus back to the base. You can call my commanding officer if you want to check up on me."
Marlene smiled. "I don't think I need to do that…especially since I was about to give you my phone number…that is…if you want it…"
Bobby stared at her in amazement. "You…uh…you…you don't have to…I mean…that's really kind of you…but…uh…" One of his large hands rubbed the back of his neck with increasing intensity.
"Do you want it?" Marlene said gently.
Bobby blinked. "Yes…please…very much…"
As they walked to the bus station he softly took her hand. It was a cold night, and when she shivered, he asked gently and hesitantly if he could put his arm around her. Marlene didn't know if she was charmed or disappointed by his refusal to attempt anything more. She leaned against him; he was warm and surprisingly strong, and the appearance of her bus caused a mild wave of disappointment in Marlene.
"You won't have to wait long?" she asked as she reluctantly pulled away from him.
"My bus is due in about five minutes."
Marlene's bus glided to the stop, and its door opened to reveal a sympathetic looking driver who, Marlene thought, had probably seen many scenes like this one.
"You will call me?" she asked Bobby.
"Yes…oh yes…maybe next Saturday…we could…I'm not on duty…" Marlene saw that Bobby hovered between wanting her to know how much he wanted to see her and trying not to frighten her.
"It's all right," she thought. "You can kiss me…I want you to…"
"I'm sorry," the driver said. "You need to get on the bus."
Marlene took a deep breath, stood on her toes, and gently pulled Bobby's head down. She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "Call me. I'll see you next Saturday," she said decisively.
Bobby stared at her in amazement and gratitude. "Yes…yes…I will!"
Marlene paused in the bus' doorway. "You better call me," she laughed. "Or you'll cause an international incident."
"Thank you!" Bobby called as the doors shut.
Marlene took her seat and turned to look out the back window as the bus pulled away. She laughed; she saw Bobby Goren, his figure outlined by the street lights, joyously dancing.
End Chapter 1