Marsha

AN OLD LOVE INTEREST 

Max went up to the room as soon as they got back to the Chancellor. The others sat around the lobby for a while reliving the high moments and the low moments of Convention Week. As Roger and Vern went in search of one last drink, Buzz found himself on the elevator with Judy and Marsha. 

“Floors, ladies?”  

“Five.” 

“Seven.”

He pushed both buttons, then pushed ten for his own floor. Judy moved to the door at five. 

“Should we walk you to your room?” Buzz asked. 

“Not necessary. My room’s right there.” 

He held the elevator door until they could see she was safely inside. At seven, Marsha looked at him with that saucy smile. “My room’s a long walk down a dark hallway. I’d feel safer with an escort.” 

Neither was the walk long, nor the hallway dark, but Buzz didn’t mind. It gave him another minute to enjoy Marsha’s company. 

She turned to him at the door to her room. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.” Then, she made it appear almost as an afterthought, “Why don’t you come in for a little while? We’ve still got so much to talk about.” 

The invitation took him by surprise, but he was quick to accept. He had enjoyed chatting with her on the plane. He had found her a pleasant addition to tonight’s dinner party and to the gab session in the lobby. To be truthful about it, he hadn’t felt like this with a woman since losing Elaine. What a shame she’s married, he said to himself. 

He sat down in the wooden-armed padded chair that she indicated to him. She sat down near him on the straight-back desk chair.  

They chatted gaily for a long time about old friends and old times. She remembered the counting game they used to play in sophomore French class — the game Miss Avery called “Buzz.” Going up and down the rows, students would count in French, substituting “buzz!” for any number containing a seven or any multiple of seven. 

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, buzz!” she recited. “And the girls who thought you were nice would look at you and put a romantic inflection on it: ‘bu-u-zz!’ You would blush. Everybody would giggle. And it took Miss Avery a long time to figure out why.” 

They reminisced about class picnics, the handful of movies they had seen together, school dances, the junior class sailing trip, and about the careers and whereabouts of classmates. They even talked about the stories they each had covered at the convention. Then, suddenly, as sometimes happens during even the most spirited conversations, both parties fell silent for apparent lack of something to say next. 

Those old feelings Buzz had felt stirring inside him had gotten stronger and stronger as they talked. 

After what must have been a half minute of silence, Marsha asked softly, “A penny for your thoughts.”

Christ! He couldn’t give a truthful answer to that one. Then it came to him. 

He laughed. “I was just thinking how different our lives might have been if you’d said ‘yes’ the night I wanted to kiss you good night.” Good recovery, Buzz. Good recovery. “Do you remember that?” 

“Yes, I remember. Guess I was playing hard to get. Or maybe because Dad was being transferred — and this wasn’t a time to get serious. If you’d asked me again next time you took me out, I probably would’ve said ‘yes.’ But you never took me out again.”

“I was too humiliated. I can laugh about it now. But for a seventeen-year-old kid who’s taken a month to get up the courage, you get a girl you really like, and she tells you, ‘Let’s leave things the way they are’ — that’s a tragic moment in a young life.” 

“Is that what I told you?” 

“That’s what you told me. Sure, I should’ve tried again. Or I should’ve taken you in my arms and just done it. That’s what I did when I got serious about Elaine. So you see, I did learn something.” 

Again, a moment of silence. 

“You asked about my thoughts? I was thinking about that kiss I didn’t get.” 

“I could make it up to you now.” 

Max went up to the room as soon as they got back to the Chancellor. The others sat around the lobby for a while reliving the high moments and the low moments of Convention Week. As Roger and Vern went in search of one last drink, Buzz found himself on the elevator with Judy and Marsha. 

“Floors, ladies?”  

“Five.” 

“Seven.”

He pushed both buttons, then pushed ten for his own floor. Judy moved to the door at five. 

“Should we walk you to your room?” Buzz asked. 

“Not necessary. My room’s right there.” 

He held the elevator door until they could see she was safely inside. At seven, Marsha looked at him with that saucy smile. “My room’s a long walk down a dark hallway. I’d feel safer with an escort.” 

Neither was the walk long, nor the hallway dark, but Buzz didn’t mind. It gave him another minute to enjoy Marsha’s company. 

She turned to him at the door to her room. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.” Then, she made it appear almost as an afterthought, “Why don’t you come in for a little while? We’ve still got so much to talk about.” 

The invitation took him by surprise, but he was quick to accept. He had enjoyed chatting with her on the plane. He had found her a pleasant addition to tonight’s dinner party and to the gab session in the lobby. To be truthful about it, he hadn’t felt like this with a woman since losing Elaine. What a shame she’s married, he said to himself. 

He sat down in the wooden-armed padded chair that she indicated to him. She sat down near him on the straight-back desk chair.  

They chatted gaily for a long time about old friends and old times. She remembered the counting game they used to play in sophomore French class — the game Miss Avery called “Buzz.” Going up and down the rows, students would count in French, substituting “buzz!” for any number containing a seven or any multiple of seven. 

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, buzz!” she recited. “And the girls who thought you were nice would look at you and put a romantic inflection on it: ‘bu-u-zz!’ You would blush. Everybody would giggle. And it took Miss Avery a long time to figure out why.” 

They reminisced about class picnics, the handful of movies they had seen together, school dances, the junior class sailing trip, and about the careers and whereabouts of classmates. They even talked about the stories they each had covered at the convention. Then, suddenly, as sometimes happens during even the most spirited conversations, both parties fell silent for apparent lack of something to say next. 

Those old feelings Buzz had felt stirring inside him had gotten stronger and stronger as they talked. 

After what must have been a half minute of silence, Marsha asked softly, “A penny for your thoughts.”

Christ! He couldn’t give a truthful answer to that one. Then it came to him. 

He laughed. “I was just thinking how different our lives might have been if you’d said ‘yes’ the night I wanted to kiss you good night.” Good recovery, Buzz. Good recovery. “Do you remember that?” 

“Yes, I remember. Guess I was playing hard to get. Or maybe because Dad was being transferred — and this wasn’t a time to get serious. If you’d asked me again next time you took me out, I probably would’ve said ‘yes.’ But you never took me out again.”

“I was too humiliated. I can laugh about it now. But for a seventeen-year-old kid who’s taken a month to get up the courage, you get a girl you really like, and she tells you, ‘Let’s leave things the way they are’ — that’s a tragic moment in a young life.” 

“Is that what I told you?” 

“That’s what you told me. Sure, I should’ve tried again. Or I should’ve taken you in my arms and just done it. That’s what I did when I got serious about Elaine. So you see, I did learn something.” 

Again, a moment of silence. 

“You asked about my thoughts? I was thinking about that kiss I didn’t get.” 

“I could make it up to you now.”