“No idea.”
“They play Rotation,” Steve said. “The musical chairs of making out. That’s a prelude to sex if ever there was one.” It was one thing to make a joke of it with Phil, but if he ever found some guy messing around with his sister, he’d tear him to shreds. Not just Natalie, but Fern. The men of the family had to be vigilant. It was their job to protect the women. That’s the way it was, whether the women liked it or not. The family’s honor was at stake. No one told him this in so many words, but he understood what his mother expected of him. To be an honorable man. He was his mother’s favorite and he knew it. Natalie and Fern were more daddy’s girls. He had ten years before he had to worry about Fern. She was just in kindergarten. By then he’d be, what—twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight? He’d probably be married, maybe with his own kids. Jeez, that was a scary thought.
“So what time tonight?” Phil asked Steve.
“Around eight.”
“I’ll be there.” Phil turned to Mason. “You want a ride home? I got the car outside.”
“Yeah, sure,” Mason said. “I just have to pick up my dog. The janitor’s watching him in the basement.”
Steve had a car outside, too. But they were going in different directions.
Mason
Phil took Mason home for supper, introduced him and his dog, Fred, to Phil’s parents. Phil swore it would be okay, said his mother liked dogs, and it was true—she took to Fred right away, scratching him behind the ears like she knew what she was doing. “Look at this little fellow. What a darling boy you are,” she said to the dog, who cocked his head at her. “I miss my dog Goldie very much,” she told Mason.
At the dinner table, Fred sat at Mrs. Stein’s feet, looking up at her, hoping for scraps. There was no more talk of Goldie and Mason didn’t ask any questions.
Phil’s father was some big-deal executive. He and Phil talked about football over the roast beef. They were New York Giants fans and had tickets for tomorrow’s game, the last of the season, against the New York Yanks.
“Are you a fan, son?” Phil’s father asked Mason.
“Yes, sir,” Mason answered.
“What team?” Phil’s father asked.
“Yours, sir, the New York Giants.”
“Attaboy!” Phil’s father said, clinking his fork against his glass.
Mason preferred baseball to football but he kept that to himself. He still couldn’t believe Joe DiMaggio was retiring.
After dinner Phil asked Mason if he wanted to go to Steve’s. When Mason hesitated, Mrs. Stein picked up Fred. “It’s too cold for such a sweet little fellow to be outside. He can spend the night here and you can get him tomorrow.” Fred didn’t complain, didn’t even run to the door when Mason left with Phil.
Natalie
The Osners’ house was down Shelley Avenue on the left, across the street from School #21, where Natalie had gone to elementary school.
“I don’t see why Steve needs to be a chaperone tonight.” She was arguing with her mother in the upstairs hallway. “I mean, really, what do you think is going to happen? You know all these kids. I’ve been going to school with them since seventh grade. They’ve been here a million times.”
“Boys can get rambunctious, especially this time of year,” her mother said, her southern drawl more pronounced during an argument. “The holiday season makes them crazy. I don’t want any trouble. We have a responsibility to the other parents.”
“But it’s not like you won’t be home. You’ll be in the den.”
“Steve will be unobtrusive.”
“I hope you know you’re ruining my get-together. I hope you know that.”
“You won’t even know he’s there. He’ll be in the laundry room.”
“The laundry room?” This almost made Natalie laugh. The laundry room was next to the finished basement and almost as big.
“With some of his friends.”
“His friends? I don’t want his friends anywhere near my get-together.”
“I just told you—you won’t even know they’re there.”
“I’ll know. I just hope my friends don’t find out. If Daddy were here he’d understand.”
“I’m sure your father would agree with me.”
“I doubt it. And keep Fern upstairs. Please! All I need is Fern walking around with her cowboy bunny. It’s hard enough to be fifteen without your family making it worse.”
“You’re not fifteen yet, Natalie Grace Osner.”
“But I will be soon, unless I die of humiliation first.”
Just before the party began Natalie confronted Steve in the laundry room, where he was setting up a card table. “Just stay out of our way. Don’t ruin my get-together with your wisecracks.”
“I’ll bet your girlfriends wouldn’t mind. They like my wisecracks.”
“Stay away from my girlfriends!”
Steve laughed. “As if I’m interested.”