“That’s not what I mean....” How to explain it? “Listen, Etta, I wanted to study things like history. Not the stuff they gave me at high school. Real history. There is colour in it. The books never speak of that, though. They give you only dates and names. But when you shut your eyes you can see helmets and campfires. Flames and singing people in forests, monks in black hoods, golden coins. That’s funny how those golden coins come to you when you shut your eyes. That.... That’s history.” “Oh, I don’t know. I never cared much for it in school.” “Because you never shut your eyes to see. Then, take drawing. The way I imagine it.... Well, I wasn’t good at it, of course. My lines took crazy turns. They moved about the paper and I couldn’t stop them. The teacher was angry. But what could I do? He put there a vase and a strawberry box and I could see only patches of colour and sometimes fountains and sometimes dancing flowers. You know.... The lines went their own way. Sometimes one side was larger than the other, sometimes you could see through it.... And my teacher was angry.” “I don’t understand you. What you mean flowers was dancing?” She reached out for his hand and patted it. “You say such funny things, Manny. What you shouting for so?” He felt her face very close to his. Her hair touched his eyes. He brushed that aside. He spoke in whispers now. “Listen, Etta, I’ll teach you how to sing. I’ll teach you. I can do it. I can’t sing myself, but I can teach you. It’s here in me! Shall I?” She didn’t seem to care about that. She was flushed, her eyes had grown wide, warm. Her red bit of a tongue moistened her quivering lips: “Yeah!” Hers was also a whisper. Then her arms were about his neck. Feeling the touch of her bare elbows, Emmanuel stopped talking. The arms were hot. Through her thin blouse he could see the girl’s shoulders. Suddenly he bent his face to hers, almost bit into her lips. He was happy. No, not the melody of the street ... that was gone just now.... This was something else. His legs trembled. “Etta, I love you!” She lay back in his arms. She knew. She kissed him with even more passion than before. He was going to be a doctor.... “We’re sweethearts, ain’t we, Manny?” “Yes, yes!” Ah, it was good to kiss her. “We’re gonna go steady, yeah?” He would be a doctor. They would go “steady.” Then there would be a “catered supper” in the pink reception room of an East Side hall after the wedding, with many candles in the hands of the guests, a band for dancing, a paper-flower decorated throne for the bridal pair. “Steady, yes, Manny?” There was only another year of college.... III Another year of college.