Page 36

"Go slowly. Like anything, most things in life, if you take your time, you're usually better off. Some of those old adages are so true. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. You know what I mean. I'm sure. That's it. That's my fatherly or grandfatherly advice. The rest is up to you. Enjoy yourself. Have a good time. Goodness knows, we're always worrying you won't. I don't want to put the wrong interpretation on anything and put you back in some cage. Just know I trust you will always make the right decisions."

"Why do you trust me?" I challenged.

"I just do," he said.

"You mean you just hope," I countered, and he laughed.

"That's why I trust and not just hope," he said. "Why?"

"You're pretty smart. You've got something special. You have that artist's insight, that third eye."

I didn't have his confidence in me. I didn't know why he should have any. I had no doubt I would have gone too far with Craig if my grandfather hadn't arrived when he had and I couldn't claim I was happy that we had stopped. I was at least a little

disappointed. What did that say about me?

My grandfather either couldn't or wouldn't see that in me. In the end, everyone sees and believes what they want to see and believe, I thought. Maybe my mother wasn't so different from everyone else after all. She just had a different shade of rose-colored glasses.

Craig called after my grandmother had come home from work at the hospital. Her face was a movie marquee full of questions about him and me. She came at them indirectly by asking, How was school? What did I do after school? I knew my grandfather had told her Craig had been up in the attic with me. They never kept secrets from each other. Because my answers were so simple, she finally asked about him, and I said he was very nice and was going to take me to school again in the morning. She didn't approve or disapprove. She simply nodded, and I went up to do my homework. That was when he called.

"Is everything all right at home?" he asked. He was sure my grandfather was at least suspicious.

"Yes."

I could almost feel his relief through the phone.

"Good. Listen," he said, "I know you might think I'm moving too fast, but I was never one to procrastinate."

"You don't have to convince me of that," I said, and he laughed.

"I never know what you're going to do or say," he told me. It was becoming a chant. "But I love it," he quickly added.

Was it his way of dealing with my cold truthfulness, or was I really like that? Was I spontaneous and unpredictable, the very words Aunt Zipporah had used to describe my mother?

"Anyway," he continued, "I've been thinking about you all night and wondered if you would go with me to the prom."

"The prom?"

"It's not quite a month off, but I know a girl needs time to prepare. You probably heard that we're having it at the Cherry Hill Hotel this year. As a community service, the hotel owners donated their ballroom. You know how we all hate to go to dances at the school. You're there all day. Who wants to return at night for a dance? This is more like a night out. It's going to be great, probably the best prom the school's ever had."

I didn't know how to react. One of the most popular boys at school was asking me to be his prom date. Because I didn't say anything quickly, he kept talking.

"They've got this four-piece band that's supposed to be terrific, and the hotel's providing the food. Some of the guys want to rent a limousine, but I haven't decided whether or not to join them. We could just go ourselves, of course. It's up to you. We don't have to make that decision right away.

"It's traditional for us to stay out all night," he continued without pausing to take a breath. "The next day we

drive to Bear Mountain and have a picnic. It's the boys' responsibility to get the food and drinks. We throw out blankets and listen to music, do some barbecuing. I'm babbling," he finally said.

I smiled to myself. Then I thought about his parents and how they would react. Would it spook them to hear that their son was going out with the daughter of the woman who committed a murder in their home?

"Are you sure you want me to be your prom date?" I asked.

"About as sure as anything I've ever done or wanted to do. What do you say?"

"All right," I said. "Yes."

"Good. I'll stop holding my breath."

I laughed, and then we talked about his baseball schedule, the away games, which was specifically to let me know when he could and could not take me home after school. Finally, before we ended the call, I asked him if his parents knew he was picking me up for school and that he was asking me to the prom.