Short Story (Copacabana)

Title
The girl slowly made her way to a table near the back of the small makeshift dancehall and sat down. Smiling absentmindedly, she took a sip of her drink and cast her gaze at the couples now swaying in time with a slow jazz number. Everyone stationed at Ft. Hamilton had been looking forward to this; for many of the soldiers this would be their last Christmas at home – some would never return. But they didn’t know that and no one on base was afraid for their life, or at least they didn’t show. It hadn’t been quite three weeks since the brutal bombing of a small Hawaiian Naval base, and yet thousands upon thousands of men had already joined up or been drafted.
Boys Lola thought, looking at the young soldiers dancing with her fellow nurses, just boys. She suddenly felt a pang of sadness and fear, thinking about the two boys she’d grown up with who were now among the boys that had joined up. Their mother had been sick with worry, but with reports of seamen still trapped and awaiting rescue or death inside the USS Arizona coming in daily, she had little choice but to accept her two sons’ decisions. And her daughter’s – Lola may have been a lady, but when push came to shove she had all the fierce determination and resolve of Joe and Charlie. Which came in handy as at just a year shy of adulthood, she hadn’t been and wasn’t yet old enough to join the Red Cross.
She came back to herself presently, Charlie was still on the mainland, and Joe hadn’t reached Africa yet; they were fine for now. She pulled herself back to the party and tried not to think of how many of the boys in front of her, now dancing to a fast paced swing number – Sing Sing Sing – would be coming back in caskets. As she watched, the dancers performed back flips and Texas Tommy’s, Sidecars and Candlesticks. She watched them, hypnotized by their artful movements and the rhythms of the toms from the big band on stage. She felt herself drift off again, happy and oblivious.
“Great party, huh?” Lola jumped in surprise and turned to look at the source of interruption of her reverie. One of the boys. He was handsome with dark eyes and hair, and high cheekbones. Like the rest of the boys he was in shape, a little more so than the other soldiers perhaps. She smiled in agreement and he flashed her a dazzling, somewhat lop-sided grin, sipped his whiskey, turned in his seat to watch the couples. Lola looked back at the dance floor as well, embarrassed. She eyes found the tops of her new shoes – bought for the occasion – and she tentatively sipped her drink. How long has he been sitting here?, she thought, stealing a glance at the friendly G.I. out of the corner of her eye. She felt bad for not noticing him sooner.
“I’m Tony, by the way,” he said, smiling at her again.
“Lola,” his infectious smile now spreading across her face. They smiled at each other a few moments, then both looked away shyly, smiling and chuckling. They looked back up. This process repeated itself over the course of a few minutes, Lola was not at all sorry for the distraction. Finally, in a testament to his valor, Tony ended the awkward situation by asking Lola her age. He immediately regretted it and it showed on his face. She chuckled at his blunder, which seemed to ease his discomfiture, and answered. She froze, straightaway realizing her mistake. Tony’s eyebrows were raised, lips slightly parted in wonder as he looked at her, but they slowly curved into a smile and Lola breathed a sigh of relief.
After a pause, Tony asked her another more well-played question: “So, where are you from?” trying to sound casual.
“Kendall, in the Northwestern part of the state.” Tony’s eyes widened in incredulity.
“Kendall?”
“Yes - “
“Kendall, New York?”
“Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it? I lived there ‘til I was twelve!”
“Really?” Lola said, half surprised, half excited.
“Yeah, right around, uhhh, what was it called…. Troutburg! The wharves in Troutburg!”
“My brothers and I used to play there when we were kids!” The two quickly realized they had quite a bit of shared history growing up together in Kendall, and spent the next hour or so reminiscing about escapades among the neighborhood kids to break into the old run down mill on Halloween (“We always had to pull you and your brothers out the basement window for that, remember?” Tony beamed. “Ha ha, my father’s a dentist, he’s still uncomfortable with the idea of us being out on Halloween!”), tree climbing contests (“The first time I ever broke my arm.” “How many others have there been?” Lola said, a skeptical smile painting her face), fishing (“Remember that time we pushed Jimmy into the river and he got the five foot salmon?” “It wasn’t that big!” “Yes it was, Mr. Freen still has it up in his bait shop”) and riding bikes. Well, one bike, as between the 14 of them, the neighborhood kids of Kendall had only managed to pull together enough money for one.
After a lull in their musings, Lola asked “Where did your family go after your father lost his job?” Tony’s face burned when she mentioned his father’s lay-off and she wished she hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“
“No, that’s fine” Tony said sincerely, “Everyone got hit pretty bad when the Depression hit. We went to the city; both my parents were able to find enough work to put food on the table.” Lola nodded, remembering the unhappy event of Tony and his family’s departure from Kendall. The whole town had shown up to see them off. Only six years ago she thought. It seemed like it had been much longer.
“- is going to be the last dance of the night, so grab that special someone –“
Tony and Lola looked up, suddenly aware of their surroundings once more. Around them, couples were getting up from their tables and moving to the dance floor hand-in-hand. They looked at each other. With a little smile, Tony offered his hand and together they moved to the center of the room. As the music started they held each other, and swayed slowly in time with the music.


Tony picked up another speckled glass and began cleaning it off. He looked over at the stage where Lola would be dancing in fifteen minutes. He could hardly contain his excitement, not at seeing Lola dance for he’d seen that hundreds of time before during his three year tenure as bar tender for one of New York’s hottest night clubs, but at the surprise he had in store for her tonight.
When he’d finished cleaning the glass he set it back in its proper place below the counter. He paused then, and withdrew a small velvet box from his pocket. He looked at it a moment, then flicked it opened and watched as the ambient lighting glistened on the smooth curve of the band and the many facets of the brilliant stone set into it. A moment longer and he closed the box and replaced it in his pocket. He felt his heart race.
Just in time, he noticed that a customer had sat down at the bar. He hurried over and took the man’s order.
“Scotch on de rocks” the man grunted in a thick Cuban accent. Tony quickly made the drink for him, and went back to his musings. He thought of how she’d react. Would she play with her hair, the way she always did when she was nervous? No wait, she didn’t always do that when she was nervous, and sometimes she did it when they were joking around. And still other times for no discernible reason at all! What if she did twist her hair around her finger when he popped the question, what would it mean?!
The house lights turned down, leaving Tony in the dark to silently fret over all the possible signals that Lola may or may not send him in two hours time. He looked over at the stage as it lit up, and a line of showgirls entered left and right kicking in time to the music that was now filling the club. He saw her, third one in from the left, and his fears were allayed. He took a deep breath and leaned forward on the bar to watch the show.
It was spectacular as always, from what he could see between filling drink orders, which, of course, were always more frequent during shows. Tony didn’t think he could wait; the show was nearly halfway through now, and he knew Lola would get a break soon. He could get his friend Jeff to cover for him. Granted Jeff was a waiter with little experience in bartending, but what did that matter? If he waited another second, Lola might start twisting her hair around her fingers! When the intermission-of-sorts was called, Tony called Jeff over before the crowd could rush over.
He looked up at the stage while he quickly filled Jeff in, scanning for her. He didn’t see her. Anywhere. His eyes scanned the crowd and he saw her; she’d been called over by the Cuban man. Jeff, following Tony’s eye line, informed him that the man’s name was Rico. Tony sized him up, and instantly hated him – he was clearly very wealthy from his dress Tony now noticed, but the thing that really bothered him about this “Rico” was that he had called Lola over. It was a condition of working at the Copa that the showgirls had to attend to customers who wanted to talk to them. He wants to do more than talking Tony thought bitterly, ignoring the frustrated customers now dealing with Jeff’s incompetence.
More than anything, Tony wanted to marry Lola and get her out of this squalor. They’d both gotten jobs here after the war ended, as a way to pay their way through college and save up for a house. The former had been accomplished unexpectedly fast thanks to the G.I. Bill, so they had begun saving for a house. Lola insisted she didn’t care about the stigma of living together unmarried, as long as they were together but Tony knew a little part of her would care. And besides, he wasn’t about to let her reputation be ruined on his behalf. She’d been somewhat concerned about where all the money was disappearing to, but she had trusted enough not to be too concerned. And now, with all of the vanishing money sitting snuggly in a velveteen box in his pocket about to pay off, Tony had to wait for this disgusting pig to shove off.
“Stop it!” he heard Lola say, irritated but not distressed. Then “Get off!” clearly struggling now. Tony felt his blood boil. He grabbed a knife from a nearby table and ran through the crowd toward Rico, shoving patrons out of his way, murder in his heart. He wanted to cut Rico to shreds, make him suffer for touching Lola like that. As he neared Rico, a mob of other Cubans came out of the woodwork, all with handguns. Lola turned and saw Tony, the look of mixed rage and surprise on his face. She panicked, froze, stricken with a precognitive knowledge of what was about to happen. A single shot was fired and ripped through Tony’s chest. He fell to the ground. He looked up at her, tried to say her name, but he couldn’t. In his mind he desperately asked her to marry him, but he hadn’t the strength to make the words come out. Lola knelt down next to him, held him in her arms and watched the light leave his eyes forever.
Lola was dimly aware of yelling, screaming, someone trying to take her away. She clung to him, and they finally gave up. Rico and his cronies were gone, escaped in the chaos, but this matter very little to her. She held him for a long time, her bright yellow costume becoming drenched in his blood – a shocking contrast of colors.
It was hours later, after the police had cordoned off the area and taken his body away when Lola discovered the ring lying on the floor, missed by detectives and police. When she saw it, she picked it up, held it, put it on her finger, imagining it the way it was supposed to be. For a moment she relived the events of the night, and tried to convince herself when she got to the end of Tony’s life that he had simply fallen to his knees. In her mind’s eye, she saw him there pretending to be injured, then looking up at her, a big lop-sided smile on his face, and everything was okay.
Then she came back to herself, looked at the ring on her finger and collapsed on the floor, crying, her body alive but her life as much ended as her lover’s.

Half-heartedly, she checked herself in the cracked vanity. She fixed her hair and re-applied her make-up, ready for the next show. For now, she went out to the main room and ordered straight vodka. She planned on drinking herself into a stupor and nobody was going to stop her. Today it was exactly thirty years ago that Tony had died, and Lola had wanted to join him everyday since. She took an entire bottle over to a table near the back, furthest away from the stage, and closest to the bar. She began to drink. Within minutes she had finished the entire bottle – years of practice had afforded her this talent.
She thought back on their plans – her’s and Tony’s plans together. Well, he had planned to marry her; she knew that now. She wandered in amusement if the house had actually been in the plans. She thought of known, bending down on one knee in front of her, asking if she’d like to have a baby with him, and then informing her that she was already pregnant. Lola smiled at the thought of this – it seemed absurd yet somehow in keeping with Tony’s personality.
Presently, her now very impaired gaze wandered over to the exact spot Tony had lain dying in her arms thirty years ago. Suddenly, for the first time since that night, Lola felt a sharp, poignant pain, as strong as it had been when her life had been changed forever. She looked at the spot, tears rolling down her cheeks now, and wished in her head that she could die right now ad end the suffering. The alcohol finally overcame her and she closed her eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

An inestimable amount of time had passed when she woke. She was sitting at a table near the back of the small makeshift dancehall and sat down. Smiling absentmindedly, she took a sip of her drink and cast her gaze at the couples now swaying in time with a slow jazz number. She looked around herself; something was nagging her in the back of her mind, but she ignored it. She began to think of the coming war, of the small Hawaiian base, the men still trapped in ships there, of the men – no boys. Of the boys……..boys? Why is that word bothering me? She pushed it from her mind, and tried to focus on the dancers. There was a boy – no, a man, she told herself firmly, trying to put the nagging thoughts out of her mind. She concentrated on this for a while, staring hard at the floor. Then she noticed a pair of shoes that were not her own on the floor in front of her – they belonged to the man who’d been crossing the dance floor a moment earlier. She looked up at him, and was suddenly confused.
“Tony!” she cried in jubilation, finally realizing what the wonderful nagging in the back of her mind had been. He flashed her a dazzling, lop-sided smile, and they embraced and held each other tight. When they finally pulled apart, he offered his hand and together they moved to the center of the room. As the music started they held each other, and swayed slowly in time with the music.