I didn't respond.
"You know where I live, right?"
"No," I said.
He rattled off the address and then added directions.
"It's only about a ten-minute walk from where you are," he concluded.
Balwin lived in a nice neighborhood. I had been down that street before. but I didn't know anyone who lived there, until now.
The night before he had told me a lot about himself, His parents were both professionals. His father was an accountant and his mother was a dental hygienist. Like me, he was an only child. He was about twenty pounds or so overweight for his five foot ten inch frame, but he had a nice face with kind, intelligent black eyes and firm, straight lips. He was definitely the best-dressed boy in school and was often kidded about his wearing dress slacks and a nice shirt. They called him Mr. Noble. making "Mister" sound like a dirty word. Some of our teachers called him Mr. Noble, too, but they weren't teasing him. They were showing him respect because he was a good student, polite and very ambitious.
"Okay," I decided quickly."I'll be there."
"Great. This is going to be fun," he said and hung up before I could even think of changing my mind. It brought a smile to my face, which had become like a desert when it came to smiles these days.
I put on my jacket and called to Mama and Daddy from the doorway.
"I'm going out for a while." I shouted.
"Bring back a carton of milk," Mama screamed back at me.
"Okay," I said.
I knew they both assumed I was just going for my usual walk around the block or maybe past some of the stores to look in the windows.
It was a cool, gray day with some wind. Spring was having a hard time getting itself a foothold this year. Winter just seemed to be stubborn, refusing to be driven off. We had had flurries in early April and only one day more than seventy degrees. Today it was in the low fifties. People walked quickly, some re netted not wearing their heavier coats and hats. The weather made them any, as angry as people who had been cheated and scammed by some con man or woman. In this case, the villain was Mother Nature who had offered a contract with the calendar and then broken it with northerly winds and heavy clouds.
I wore a light-blue sweater and skirt along with a pair of black buzzin' boots with three-and-a-halfinch heels. I liked feeling tall. I heard some catcalls and whistles from men in passing cars. but I kept my eyes forward. Once you look their way, they think you're showing some interest.
A gust of wind brought tears to my eyes as I quickly whipped around a coiner and headed down Balwin's street. I was practically running now. When I got to his door and pressed the buzzer, he opened it so quickly. I had to wonder if he hadn't been waiting right in the entryway the whole time.
"Looks nasty," he said glancing at the way the wind had picked up some discarded paper and chased it up the gutter.
I took a deep breath and nodded.
He looked nervous and started to talk so quickly, I thought he would run out of breath.
"I should have taken my father up on the car offer. He put a dollar value on my weight, offering to deposit so much for every pound I lost. I was to be weighed every morning before he went to work and he was going to keep this big chart up in his home office. but I never cared if I had my own car or not and he withdrew the offer."
He smiled.
"Maybe eating was just more important. Sorry. I could have picked you up tonight if I had my own car. My father won't let me use his car, and they took my mother's car tonight, which was the car I used to take you home from the Kit-Kat. They went to New York to see a show and have dinner," he said finally pausing for a breath. "Let me take your coat and hang it up for you."
I was shivering. but I gave it to him and he put it in the hallway closet. Whenever I visited anyone who had his or her own house. I understood Mama's constant longing to get us into something better. Odors from whatever other people on your floor were cooking didn't permeate your home. Noise and clatter were practically nonexistent. You had a true sense of privacy.
Balwin's house was a little more than modest. His parents had decorated it well. The furniture looked new and expensive. It was all early American. There were thick area rugs, elegant coffee and side tables, interesting pole and table lamps and real oil paintings on the walls, not prints. A large, teardrop chandelier hung over the rich, cherrywood dining room table.
"You want anything warm to drink? I'll make you some coffee or tea, if you like."
"Tea." I said nodding.
"Milk or sugar or honey?"
"Honey."
"That's good. That's what singers should drink," he said smiling.