“I was talking about you. I feel like I’m here with Rita Hayworth.” Frank smiled at her with a grin that had been melting her heart since they were fourteen years old. “You look spectacular tonight.” He gave her a loving peck on the cheek and then pulled out her chair. They hadn’t been out like this in so long that Margaret had forgotten she could actually be in the world as a woman, not just a cook, laundress, and mother of his three children.
“How about two Pi?a Colada Copacabanas?” Frank raised his eyebrows to confirm with her and then turned to the waiter. They were seeing Harry Belafonte. Carolyn had told her that this was his “return debut,” after having been banned in 1944 for being African American. Margaret vaguely remembered reading something in one of the gossip rags about this but had been too busy with her studies to pay much attention. Anyway, this night probably cost Frank a week’s wages, and the headliner made it even more special. She needed to appreciate every single moment.
When their drinks arrived, Frank lifted his daiquiri glass. “Nothing like a paper umbrella to make an evening feel really special.” He smiled and put his hand on Margaret’s knee as she giggled, nuzzling into him. She loved the strength of his chest. And his spicy-sweet smell, so comforting and familiar; for a moment, she was that brazen young girl again who asked him to the homecoming dance. Back then she had picked him. She knew he would be too timid to ask her on a date, even though she could feel him looking at her differently. She wanted to be more than just the friend down the street who used to beat him in sprints. And she was pretty sure he wanted that too. She had been right.
So why, now, did she feel like she had to hide herself from him? Why did she have to pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t?
The waiter arrived with spareribs, egg rolls, pork chop suey, and even Cantonese lobster—Chinese food in a Latin-themed club! How perfectly exotic.
Everything was delicious, and the two of them ate as if they hadn’t had a meal in weeks. Margaret would normally have worried that her dress would burst, but right now she didn’t care. She didn’t know if it was the loud music, or the rum, or just being out alone as husband and wife but, for a moment, she felt like her old self: happy, carefree, brave. She threw down her napkin and turned to Frank. “Should we dance?”
“Absolutely.” He stood, holding out his hand to her, and then they made their way to the dance floor. The music was fast and the Latin rhythms unfamiliar to them both. Margaret tried to mimic the hip swings of the dancers onstage and failed miserably, which left Frank nearly doubled over in laughter. And then the music slowed. Finally, they could actually hear each other speak, and Frank held Margaret close.
“I think you know this already, but I thank my lucky stars every day that I got to have you as my own.”
She moved even closer to him, so grateful.
“I know things have been hard on you lately, sweetheart—but don’t worry, you’re doing a great job with all three kids, and the sales at the store are better than ever. We are going to be just fine.”
His words broke the spell. She was not doing a great job. She had actually made a terrible mess of things and was only hiding it from him with the help of her mother. Her nose began to tingle, and her lip began to shake, and she couldn’t stop the tears as they started rolling down her cheeks. Frank didn’t notice right away. But they quickly gained momentum, and before she knew it, sobs racked her whole body.
“Mags? What’s going on?” Frank looked so confused.
“I’m sorry, I just need a minute,” she managed to choke out, and then she ran across the dance floor and into the ladies’ lounge, where she locked herself in a stall and let herself weep. I need to stop this. I must stop this. Get yourself together, Margaret. Make this night okay. You’re at the Copa . . . Harry Belafonte . . . But the more she tried to calm herself down, the harder she cried. She felt like she had climbed out of her body and was an innocent bystander. She had so little control over her feelings right now.