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Chuck's leave had ended weeks ago, and he was back in Hawaii. Woody still did not know what to think about Chuck's confession. Sometimes he felt as shocked as if the world had turned upside down; other times he asked himself what difference it made to anything. But he kept his promise not to tell anyone, not even Joanne.
Then Woody's father went off with the president, and his mother went to Buffalo to spend a few days with her parents. So Woody had the Washington apartment--all nine rooms--to himself for a few days. He decided he would look out for an opportunity to invite Joanne Rouzrokh there, in the hope of getting a real kiss.
They had lunch together and went to an exhibition called "Negro Art," which had been attacked by conservative writers who said there was no such thing as Negro art--despite the unmistakable genius of such people as the painter Jacob Lawrence and the sculptor Elizabeth Catlett.
As they left the exhibition Woody said: "Would you like to have cocktails while we decide where to go for dinner?"
"No, thanks," she said in her usual decisive manner. "I'd really like a cup of tea."
"Tea?" He was not sure where you could get good tea in Washington. Then he had a brainwave. "My mother has English tea," he said. "We could go to the apartment."
"Okay."
The building was a few blocks away on Twenty-second Street NW, near L Street. They breathed easier as they stepped out of the summer heat into the air-conditioned lobby. A porter took them up in the elevator.
As they entered the apartment Joanne said: "I see your papa around Washington all the time, but I haven't talked to your mama for years. I must congratulate her on her bestseller."
"She's not here right now," Woody said. "Come into the kitchen."
He filled the kettle from the tap and put it on the heat. Then he put his arms around Joanne and said: "Alone at last."
"Where are your parents?"
"Out of town, both of them."
"And Chuck is in Hawaii."
"Yes."
She moved away from him. "Woody, how could you do this to me?"
"Do what? I'm making you tea!"
"You've got me up here on false pretenses! I thought your parents were at home."
"I never said that."
"Why didn't you tell me they were away?"
"You didn't ask!" he said indignantly, though there was a grain of truth in her complaint. He would not have lied to her, but he had been hoping he would not have to tell her in advance that the apartment was empty.
"You got me up here to make a pass! You think I'm a cheap broad."
"I do not! It's just that we're never really private. I was hoping for a kiss, that's all."
"Don't try to kid me."
Now she really was being unjust. Yes, he hoped to go to bed with her one day, but no, he had not expected to do so today. "We'll go," he said. "We'll get tea somewhere else. The Ritz-Carlton is right down the street, all the British stay there, they must have tea."
"Oh, don't be stupid, we don't need to leave. I'm not afraid of you, I can fight you off. I'm just mad at you. I don't want a man who goes out with me because he thinks I'm easy."
"Easy?" he said, his voice rising. "Hell! I've waited six years for you to condescend to go out with me. Even now, all I'm asking for is a kiss. If you're easy, I'd hate to be in love with a girl who's difficult!"
To his astonishment, she started to laugh.
"Now what?" he said irritably.
"I'm sorry, you're right," she said. "If you wanted a girl who was easy, you would have given up on me long ago."
