Fine Romance, Circa 1945- With Billie Holiday In Mind    

 

Over in a darken corner a couple, she a very perky bleached blonde, naturally so or not only she and her God know (perhaps her hairdresser as well but what with the war shortages with the chemicals necessary for artificially very bleached blonde hair going into Europe rather than say the hair of frisky brunettes probably only her God just then as the war was winding down but had not quite finished up and so shortages still held sway), mascaraed blue eyes which the bleached blonde hair only accentuated, made more alluring, and a fair dusting of powders and whatnots that make a gal alluring to the opposite sex. Especially members of the opposite sex who have been spitting the muds of wartime Europe out of their mouths, have breathed in the odors of men’s fears, men’s food, men’s lack of toiletries and other refinements for the previous three years but who even if they had not been close enough to a woman, a perky blonde one at that, had not lost the taste for such company.  (Some men had lost that desire, not in the throes of desire for other men, you know some homosexual impulse previously unexplored, although that happened too, happened anytime you had men cooped up in war, in prisons, on merchant ships, hell, in boarding schools, but from the shock of war, from what would then be called “shell shock,” and now some post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD. Those “lost boys”, those who would have trouble getting back to the old routines, getting back to the “real” world as a later war generation would call their malaise would be legend as the years wore on and they drifted mainly west, west of wherever they were from and never quite got back to that pre-Pearl Harbor calm, never).

 

Those appealing eyes and hair were accompanied by a long slinky gown although not of recent purchase since like the hair ingredients the materials for such glamour-enhancement long ago went ashore at Normandy fitted over a slender but what guys back then would call “curves in all the right places.”  And silver dancing slippers of recent purchase since she had a friend who had a friend who worked on Seventh Avenue and that was that, nothing more need be said just in case some noisy bureaucrat was in the house and jealous that he did not have such resources to get a pair for his own girlfriend.

 

Her picture completed in the glimmer of the candle emanating from their table any idle eyes at the bar filled with plenty of men who had not been close enough a woman but had not lost the habit and those were staring hopefully in her direction that she was talking to her companion of the evening. His description was ease itself beyond the short high side walls haircut that meant he was still in one or another branches of the military service, just then clean-shaven although he was one of those men bedeviled by the need to shave twice daily (made worse in those European muds when a man dared no shave for fear of being some sniper’s target when the opposing armies were in close proximity); regulation cologne, although a sea of cologne would not wash away that smell of men’s fear, even brave men, which made a guy alluring to the opposite sex, regulation brown eyes, and a fairly-well beribboned, beribboned beyond what every combat soldier received for just being in a war zone,  Army uniform to take the mystery out of which branch he belonged to and which made clear that he had seen action in some theater in Europe. He was raptly listening to whatever it was she was saying as if just the act of hearing her voice, hearing a female voice, an American female voice was worthy of such rapture.     

 

In front of the young couple who from a quick glance and the reserved manner of their gestures had not known each other long (and how could they in 1945 the war not even half over yet and the soldiers just starting to pour back to the states) were well-used glasses of red wine accompanied by some wine correct meat dishes. Probably the Beef Alsace for which the Club Martin up in high 49^th Street  New York City was famous for far and wide. On the other hand those gestures did not exhibit the obvious tell-tale symptoms of a first date, a nervous first date for her since mother had warned against any such cavorting with soldiers and for him nervous with nothing but the memories of those muds, fears, and the assorted horrors of war that he might have lost his touch despite his desire for the society of women, the timid talk skirting around anything favorite colors, her blue, him black, films, her romantic comedies, him film noir, songs, her I’ll Get By, him We’ll Meet Again, the off-hand laughter (she kept calling it a gun and he insisted on rifle and the occasional blush  when in the newness of the situation one party makes a social blunder (or when the slightest sexual reference came up although both probably even then sensed they were headed for the sheets sometime). But moving closer, although not close enough to break the spell of the darkness they craved in those tender moments the menu of the day was far removed from what they were talking about, what interested them that evening.

 

See our beribboned, clean shaven, slightly flush with the taste of wine in his mouth soldier boy, let’s call him Adam Jordan which is actually his name so there need for there to be anything  mysterious or nefarious about it, and his perky blonde date, let’s call her Brenda Dubois for that is her name although she would not like that information broadcast widely since she is under-age, under-age for nightclubbing if not for other activities had just a few minutes before abandoned their darkened safe harbor and stepped to the back of the house into a back room of the Club, the band’s dressing area, and shared a joint, marijuana, with Nick Janeway, the famous trumpeter, who was working at the Club now that he had been discharged from the Army, discharged with a fairly beribboned uniform which meant that he too had seen serious action in one of the European theaters of combat although this evening he was wearing the standard tuxedo of the house band at the Club Martin. As anyone may have guessed Nick and Adam had served together in Europe and this night Nick had gotten Adam and Brenda through might and main as his guests for the evening’s entertainment. Might and main since such elegant supper clubs were booked solid with the regular Manhattan Mayfair swell who frequented such places bolstered by scores, hundreds of returning servicemen just off the troop transports and with plenty of dough and desire to “live it up” after the travails of the European theater.

 

This night was hardly the first time that Nick and Adam had “flamed” up (their personal term so the hick other soldiers who were still drinking sodas or six point two Army beer would not catch on since that “reefer madness” mad rapist pervert junkie stuff was still making the news, literature and the films) for they had endured the travails of the slugfest battles of Europe by being well-doped up when the action cooled off (and decidedly not when in battle as those medals on their respective uniforms can attest to since both had led squads from Normandy eastward). This night however was Brenda’s first time, her first encounter with reefer which previously along with soldiers, sex and about seven other things she had been warned off by her mother, and while she was thrilled and afraid at the same time when Adam had broached the question of taking a “hit.” Softened up by the wine, and frankly by her unquestioned attraction to Adam, she wanted to be a good sport so on the first hit she inhaled deeply, too deeply. The mandatory few drags had the equally mandatory effect common among first time users who treat reefer inhalation the same way as smoking tobacco cigarettes had fits of coughing which accompany the harsh smoke. Now back at the table Brenda was just beginning to get a decent buzz off of the stuff.

 

Brenda thought to herself, beside the million flashing silly thoughts,   that Adam was a cool guy, knew some cool guys and maybe they would get along after all. He sure was attractive enough, for that read sexy enough as she confided to a girlfriend from work who when that friend met him had her Adam thoughts and probably ready to catch him if Brenda didn’t work out, as she could tell by the wandering female eyes that followed Adam when he was not at table. She had not been sure the first few dates after Adam had picked her up at a USO dance over in Times Square when she had gone with a girlfriend in order to support the guys who were coming off the transport ships by the thousands now that the war in Europe was almost over that they would get along since he was so worldly and she was just a very bleached blonde from Brooklyn. He had laughed while they were finishing dinner at that remark and asked her if she wanted to go back to Nick’s hangout and blow another joint. Loosened up she agreed and they sat with Nick until it was time for him to perform.       

 

As Nick headed out of the dressing area to do his work for the night Brenda and Adam had once again navigated their way back to their darkened corner and were talking loosely with spurts of giggles on Brenda’s part when Nick and his fellow band members mounted the small elevated stage several tables away and began their be-bop swing combo intros. While Brenda and Adam were lighting each other’s cigarettes (tobacco of course) the house lights dimmed even further and a tall black woman, maybe thirty or so with a big flower, some kind of orchid in her pulled back shiny jet black hair, and an elegant fitted deep red gown with matching slippers that certainly had been recently purchased as Brenda had seen a copy of a dress like it, war shortages of no war shortages, in one of the recent issues of a women’s magazine and began singing A New Romance in a sultry, sexy, sassy, voice that would make Jehovah’s angels bow their heads and weep for their inadequacies. Brenda with all kinds of buzzes going through her head looked over at Adam who was watching and nodding encouragement to Nick as he played an interlude solo break and thought, a new romance, a new romance indeed.