August, 1943. Early Sunday Morning
Justin couldn't get the grin off his face as the streetcar joggled along Jasper Avenue in downtown Edmonton towards the hotel. He replayed the evening one more time ...
*********
"Company ... dismissed."
The ranks disintegrated, the young airmen turning and pelting across the parade square for the barracks. Inside, every bunk was perfectly made up for the next company that would come through; so tightly were the beds made you could bounce a dime off the sheets (and in fact early in the day the inspecting officer had done just that. It had been the dreaded white glove inspection, and God help the airman if the white glove should come up grey after a pass along the top of his locker or the underside of his metal barracks bunk.).
The men raced in and grabbed their duffel bags. Not all their worldly possessions, perhaps, but certainly everything they would take with them overseas. If it wasn't in your duffel or on your back, you better be prepared to buy it over there or do without - so on every duffel the seams strained and the canvas was stretched taut.
"One last night, boys," yelled Ernie Walker, a kid from Montreal, as he slung his duffel into the luggage compartment under the bus. "Look out, ladies of Edmonchuk!"
(Edmonton has always had a thriving Ukrainian community. Not far from Edmonton is Vegreville, home of the world's largest Pysanka - a fifty-foot tall, brilliantly coloured and intricately designed traditional Ukrainian Easter Egg. Because so many Ukrainian surnames end in "chuk" - Swischuk, Tokarchuk, Bolonchuk, Andreychuk - the very visible Ukrainian culture led to the city's nickname - "Edmonchuk".)
Ernie, Paul Steen, and Justin kibbitzed in their customary middle seats on the bus as it rolled towards downtown Edmonton. One night of leave before the train boarded Sunday night for Ernie's home town of Montreal and a troop ship bound for England. Given a choice between the free barracks and a pricey downtown hotel, almost all the men had opted for the hotel.
"I'll be sleeping on a cot and sharing a biffy with you crumbums for months," said Paul. "Tonight I want a soft fluffy bed, a nice hot shower, and a beautiful Uke girl."
"He'll be lucky if he goes one for three," said Ernie.
"And that's if he beats me to the shower," said Justin, and the three men - the three boys - laughed together as only lifelong friends do. In truth, Paul and Justin had grown up together; both had met Ernie during basic training. But that was a lifetime ago, wasn't it?
The bus offloaded at "the Mac" - The Hotel MacDonald, a grand old railway hotel in the heart of the city. The three shared a room - two double beds and a roll-away cot.
"Last one back here draws the cot," said Paul. "But if you're the last one back, it means you found yourself a honey, so no griping."
It was 8:30 by the time they got back to the room after a steak dinner at the hotel restaurant. Justin had run into some of the other fellows from the base and learned about a dance at a local roller rink. The plan was to go as a group, mustering in the hotel lobby around 9. One last check for mirror shine on the shoes and razor-sharp creases on their trousers and they were out the door.
The city bus spit them out right in front of the roller rink in the park. The strains of Big Band music quickened the pulse as they filed in through the front gates and paid the admission - fifty cents for civilians, but servicemen in uniform paid half that. Once in, the boys flared out in search of dance partners.
"Ohhh, will you look at her," said Paul, his eyes fixed on a stunning brunette across the floor. "Permission to file a flight plan ... I know where I'm headed. Here, Ling. Hold my Coke, I'm going in." He passed Justin his bottle of Coke and walked confidently up to the beautiful girl.
Justin watched, amused, as his best friend asked the girl to dance. Paul was a nice fellow, a great pal, but this girl? Not a chance. She was out of his league. In fact, she was out of anybody's league.
But by God, didn't she say "yes". As his gangly buddy - all arms and legs and elbows and knees and a face only a mother could love - squired this flawless beauty across the floor, Justin could not take his eyes off them. Well, off her, to be honest.
The dance finished, and he could see Paul lean in close and whisper something. She shook her head and replied, and Paul's eyes fell to her left hand and the ring there. He nodded, smiled, thanked the girl, and came back to get his Coke.
"No joy," he said, pulling deeply on the Coke and finishing with a resounding belch that turned a few heads around them. "Boyfriend. My luck."
"Mind if I try mine?" asked Justin.
"All you'll get is a dance."
"Maybe that's all I want."
Justin walked across the floor, his eyes never leaving the girl. Halfway across the dance floor, she felt his gaze, looked up, and held it as he came towards her. No shyness here, Justin thought.
"Would your boyfriend mind if we danced?" he asked the girl with a grin.
"Are you asking him or me?"
"Well - uh - you, of course."
"Well, *I* don't mind if we dance. You can dance, can't you?"
"I can try."
Her name was Mary, and he couldn't stop looking at her as they moved around the dance floor.
"What?" she finally demanded.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm just looking."
"Well, stop."
"You're pretty."
"Didn't your mother teach you about staring?"
He grinned. "She also taught me 'Never take your eyes off a pretty girl. You look away and they're gone.'"
"Well, that's just a lie. Nobody's mother teaches them that."
"So you're not going to disappear?"
"We're dancing. That would be rude."
"So maybe I'll just keep you dancing."
And he did keep her dancing. He was a good dancer - three sisters had seen to that - and she loved how it felt to have him guide her around the dance floor. Some boys led by strength, bullying you around the floor; others were tentative or as limp as a bad handshake. In Justin's arms, she could feel his confidence, his strength, his certainty.
And those eyes ... so blue! She felt she could fall into them and swim forever. She looked up into those eyes and smiled.
Her smile took his breath away. Everything about her did. Her voice, her laugh, the smell of her hair, how small and delicate she felt in his arms ... everything.
And what he loved most of all was how they moved as one on the dance floor. It was as if they'd danced together not just for years but for their entire lives - every move he made countered perfectly, every turn anticipated.
They fell into a different world as the music played on, their bodies and minds in perfect step. Conversation came in short, thrilling bursts as one or the other would lean in close to be heard over the music, cheek would press against cheek; most times it hardly mattered what was said.
As yet another dance finished, Mary drew back from him and glanced across the room. "Ohhh ..." she said.
"What?"
"My sister. We have to leave."
"This early?"
"Well, I have to get her home."
"I don't want to stay if you're going. Can I walk you home?"
Mary nodded.
"And your boyfriend? He won't mind?"
She grinned. "It'll be fine. I may have to break up with him."
"Poor sap."
He met Vera and asked the two girls to wait for a moment. He spotted Paul across the dance floor and took him aside.
"Leave the door unlocked," said Justin.
"Does she have a sister?"
"Yeah, but she's not your type."
"What type is that?"
Justin grinned at his pal. "She can see."
Paul clipped Justin a glancing blow across the back of his head. "Good thing for you this girl can't smell. Wonder what happened to her boyfriend?"
"Died in the war. Terrible thing. Don't wait up." And with that Justin turned and made his way back to where Mary and Vera were waiting, their sweaters over their arms.
"Here," he said to Mary. "There's a chill out." He took her sweater and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled. He gazed at her face, memorizing every detail - her liquid brown eyes, her exquisite cheekbones, the way her lips formed a perfect ...
"If we move fast enough, we can catch the next streetcar and we'll be warm enough that we won't need sweaters," said Vera brusquely. "Let's go."
*******************
Justin smiled as he remembered the streetcar ride to Mary's house - how they had talked and talked, lost in one another, oblivious to anything or anyone else. As he remembered the ride, he could see nothing but her face - not the driver, not Vera, not the traffic outside the bus or the street signs whizzing by. No way to know how far they'd gone or what direction they'd turned.
But he could remember the feel of his arm draped along her shoulder, her thigh along his as the streetcar rumbled along, how her eyes shone when she talked, how her laughter rang like a song, and how her hand felt as she reached over and grabbed his arm to warn him they were at the right stop. He remembered how small and fragile that same hand felt in his on the short walk from the bus stop to the big house with the giant verandah.
He chuckled to himself. If I had to find that house in the light of day, I don't think ...
And he froze, stricken.
... I don't think I could.
ACK!
This is awesome! I love hearing about places I know. Edmonton is one of my favourite cities! I lived in St. Albert (suburb) for 5 years and have cousins in Sherwood Park.
Pysanky is awesome! That giant one is so cool too:) I grew up with Ukranian friends and they taught me to do pysanky. And oh, the perogies we enjoyed! YUM!
I LOVE IT!!!
HURRY WITH THE NEXT INSTALLMENT! LOL
Posted by: Lowa | June 16, 2006 at 01:23 PM
I LOVE this. MORE!
Posted by: candace | June 16, 2006 at 03:19 PM
Very good... very good... MORE!
*please?
Posted by: CircusKelli | June 16, 2006 at 03:26 PM
just damm!
I'm leaving town till Monday. Looks like i'm going to have a lot of reading to do when I get back!
Posted by: Laura | June 16, 2006 at 03:36 PM
I hope you put in the next installment soon. I'm not always big on love stories, but I'm really enjoying this one.
Posted by: Squirl | June 16, 2006 at 06:37 PM
Best "how we met" story ever...except my own.
Posted by: wordgirl | June 16, 2006 at 07:02 PM
Much cooler than my "he wouldn't dance with me and my big perm" story of how my hubs and I met...more, please.
Posted by: The Kept Woman | June 16, 2006 at 09:38 PM
Sigh.....I love the part where they leave the dance. The signal with the shoes, and the sister and the streetcar.
And the hopeful buddies. Sigh.
Posted by: MrsDoF | June 16, 2006 at 09:49 PM
wow. this is such a lovely story. and i love the way you end with a cliffhanger. can't wait for the next part!
Posted by: Gora_Kagaz | June 17, 2006 at 01:25 PM
wow. this is such a lovely story. and i love the way you end with a cliffhanger. can't wait for the next part!
Posted by: Gora_Kagaz | June 17, 2006 at 01:25 PM
"She can see."
BURN!
Posted by: Bucky Four-Eyes | June 17, 2006 at 02:22 PM
Happy Father's Day, Nils. I don't know if you celebrate it in Canada, but, if not, you really should. :)
Posted by: Squirl | June 18, 2006 at 08:59 AM
The current celebration in the States is Father's Day. I'm hoping the sentiments cross the border for our neighbors to the North, and that your own day has been a good one.
Now, on to more pressing matters, such as the next installment for a sweet love story!
Posted by: MrsDoF | June 18, 2006 at 10:23 PM