Tuesday, June 30th, 1936
10:48 p.m.

"Give her here."

"I can't."

"Well, hurry up, would ya?"

"Keep your voice down! She's finally asleep, goddammit."

"Come on! And get the envelope from my pocket." The woman sighed, passing the sleeping two-and-a-half-year-old to her husband. The little girl held onto a hand-crocheted toy lion as she moved from her mother to her father, resting her head against his shoulder, still sleeping soundly. Reluctantly, she pulled a wrinkled envelope filled with dollar bills from her husband's pocket and "Ring the bell, would ya? They're expecting us and we're already fifteen minutes late."

She looked over at her sleeping daughter for another moment and stroked her light brown hair before ringing the doorbell of St. Margaret's.

10:48 p.m.

Still clinging to the handle of the '34 Dodge that had pulled into the driveway of her father's house, Carol leaned her head in and thanked her friend for driving her home after the pictures, quickly wishing a goodnight before rushing toward the front steps of the house to open the door. Carol wrung her fingers around the chrome fixture, tightening her grip on it as she heard it click securely shut. The front light was on. The bulb swarmed with pesky mosquitoes and whatever other bugs were attracted to the brightness in the midst of the summer night. She really just wanted to sit outside, but wasn't in the mood to have her arms and legs covered with mosquito bites for the next few weeks. Definitely didn't want any blemishes all over her legs from scratching them even though she knew she oughtn't. Before she hesitated any longer, Carol opened the front door of the house and rushed in, hoping none of the bugs had followed her indoors.

Carol paused as soon as the door was closed and locked behind her, catching her breath as she rested her back and arms against the cool metal door. She shut her eyes and took several deep breaths, pausing before opening them again to peer into the darkness of the foyer. It was still, the air heavy and warm. She could feel the coolness radiate off the metal door and permeate her thin cotton dress. Maybe all she needed was thirty minutes or more in the comfort of a nice, cool bath to make things better rather than standing directly in front of the main door to the house.

Mostly, Carol was upset because the nice cool air that had been surrounding her for over three hours inside the movie theater, all the lovely coolness that she had successfully built up over all those hours, had just gone to waste while sitting in the front seat of the car that, according to what she saw out the window, had just turned out the driveway and onto the road. She didn't bother turning on the entry light; she didn't intend on standing there all night long and certainly didn't want any of the bugs from outside to start thinking they had a chance with the other illumination nearby.

Carol still tried to calm her breathing, but now her legs were shaking, almost wobbly, with little tremors every thirty seconds so. It was too hard to regain her focus after something like that. Thank God when she got out of the car she didn't have to too walk far to get to the front door because she'd never have made it otherwise.

Her stomach was in knots, fluttering and jittery, tight and nervous as she composed herself. She couldn't have been happier for having skipped dinner because if she hadn't, it no doubt would have been spewed across the entryway of the house due to sheer nerves. Coupled with the thought that if she had those completely wobbly legs, it could have been an utter nightmare.

She pressed her thighs together, feeling cool, damp satin between her legs as she squirmed back and forth. The fabric of the tap pants she was wearing did next to nothing to absorb the wetness that had accumulated. Maybe it was a good thing to have stopped where they did. It was so embarrassing how aroused she could get from just a little necking in the front seat of a parked car on a summer's evening. Was it supposed to be like that? Luckily there hadn't been any wandering hands up her skirt and no awkward explanations needed to be provided.

She tried bending her knees: one knee that had been far too cramped along the bench seat of the car and the other that had been poised on the floorboard for balance. That's what happens, Carol, when you're at least five inches taller than everyone, she reminded herself. Looking down at her knees, she was able to faintly make out in the moonlight how the stocking on her right leg, the one that had been resting against the floorboard of the Dodge, had a slight tear, no doubt from the twisting and pressure she had been putting on it. Perhaps she could repair it with some needle and thread in the morning. It wasn't as though she had big plans for the following morning anyhow, that was, other than sleep in, listen to the radio, and perhaps talk a walk if the weather was agreeable.

When she glanced down to her knee and looked back up, only then did she notice on the entryway table a small pile of presents, a few envelopes, and two Butterscotch Krimpets with an unlit candle placed in the middle safely sitting underneath a glass dome. Finally turning on only one switch from the overhead lighting so she could see everything plainly, Carol smiled.

The sweet treats were all her dad; he probably arranged everything like that before he left on business for at least a week. From among the envelopes, the first item that caught her attention was a postcard, unmistakably from Abby with the messy writing and the colorful, yet frightening image of chiseled blond men in scant athletic garb on the front.

I'd say "wish you were here!" however I don't think you're entirely ready for this scene yet - no matter how mature you are, Carol. Maybe for your 18th, yeah? Europe's great and all, but I miss you, N.J. and all the gang back home. I hope this arrives in time for your birthday. Happy 16th!

Liebe Grüße & Best Birthday Wishes!

Abby

p.s. write me some time, would you?

Carol flipped over the postcard to look at the front then turned it back over, noting that it had been sent three weeks earlier. Well, at least it made it in time for her birthday, she gathered. Either that or her father or Martha had saved it for her until then.

There was a pretty card from her grandparents in Connecticut that had a five-dollar bill tucked inside, folded into the shape of a heart. Carol laughed to herself, knowing that only her grandfather would have taken the pains to do that just for her. She already knew what she wanted to get herself with the majority of the money and planned on going out in the morning to buy it.

We'll see you (and spoil you something awful) in a couple weeks. Until then, buy yourself something nice to tide you over. Happy 16th Birthday!

Love, hugs and kisses,

Grandma & Grandpa

On the table there were also two wrapped gifts in different papers: one large, one small. She picked up the smallest package first, tugging away the string around it so she could get at the little notecard safely tucked between the paper and the string. It was a gift from her aunt who lived down in Maryland with her grandmother on her mother's side of the family.

Fondest birthday wishes to our delightful Carol.

Many happy returns,

Your loving aunt and grandmother

Could they be any more impersonal in their message? Carol asked herself. It wasn't as though they never saw each other or had never spent a day together in their lives. Unwrapping it to find a thin square box, Carol raised the lid to find, of all things, a pearl necklace. Not to be ungrateful, but what did she want with a pearl necklace? All the other girls at school wore them. All the ones who thought they were somebody least. She didn't want to be like all of the others. It was certainly pretty; she didn't exactly have an entire jewelry box full of earrings, bracelets, and necklaces to start with anyways. Supposing needed to start somewhere and with something, she took out the necklace and shut the lid, faintly smiling at the nice gesture, and put the box aside. Without having to look in the nearby mirror, Carol took each end of the necklace in her hands and looped it around to the back of her neck to secure the clasp. Letting both her hands run past the beads around her neck, one hand fell to her side, the other lingered and she gently toyed with her thumb the individual pearls within reach.

The last item, rectangular and heavy, made a familiar sound when she grasped it in her hands; a sound that made her happy because it could only be one thing. The one gift she really wanted. The one gift her father absolutely knew she wanted. There was no card with it, however there was no need because she knew who it was from. When she tore off the paper, Carol grinned, holding in her hands a thick hardback book with a pale yellow and dark brown dust jacket. Inside the front cover there was a brief inscription:

June 30, 1936

Happy 16th Birthday, Carol!

Love,

Dad

And the inscription was followed by a small insert on pink paper: This is the right one? I hope so! The ladies in line were vicious this morning. I fought three of them off with my bare hands, then bought them coffees. Love you!

Now she'd have to find another way to spend the five dollars of her grandparents' money since she no longer needed to spend three of those dollars on a copy of Gone With the Wind. Carol felt better after opening the cards and presents, smiling as she looked over the little pile of items on the table as she forgot how nervous she had been during the ride home from the pictures and then the moment her friend had parked the car.

Thinking back, she realized that had this been the year before, she would have been absolutely terrified of how her evening had gone, not to mention terrified of having to spend an evening alone opening her presents. She missed her father, and even her sister, but she loved how the day had turned out. She loved her presents. She loved that her family (at least the ones who mattered) trusted her enough to let her stay alone, aside from the daily visits from the housekeeper. She even loved how her father had put out her favorite sweet snack just for her, which she soon wrapped in a strip of the torn wrapping paper to carry upstairs with her for later.

As she passed by the mirror in the entryway to switch off the light, Carol stopped to look at herself. Her hair was slightly out of place, especially when she unpinned her hat. Her cheeks were still flushed, warm to the touch. She ran her hands from her neck on down her figure, fondling the new necklace and smoothing out her dress. Thoroughly observing herself in the mirror, Carol noticed her own pale pink lipstick was smudged and that there was an even deeper shade of raspberry pink streaked along the side of her neck, leaving residue on the collar of her dress.

Admiring the smudges of lipstick, Carol faintly smirked at her own image in the mirror before heading upstairs to eagerly take that nice, cool bath and start reading her new book. She didn't feel an ounce of remorse or guilt. Well, there might not have been any tongue, but that was a damn good first kiss.