“Yeah, sure,” Max responded pleasantly. Luke smiled, laughing to himself, as he sat watching Max try to explain the answer to Tweed, one she didn’t understand, and one Luke was certain she undoubtedly never would. Still, he couldn’t blame Max for liking her. Tweed was unbelievably attractive, but she obviously wasn’t intelligent. Luke was also right in his assumption that Tweed didn’t really care if she actually understood science. What she really wanted was an excuse to rub up against Max. She rested her leg next to his and put her hand on Max’s arm as she listened, seemingly engrossed in the explanation. “Does that make sense?” Max asked Tweed once he finished explaining the problem.
“It does now,” she responded sweetly with a flirtatious smile. “Max, you’re so smart. Thanks for your help. I get it now.”
Luke stifled his laughter but couldn’t resist saying, “Good, then the next question should be easy for you.” He added, knowing full well that she didn’t understand the concept at all, “It’s exactly like the one Max just explained to you.”
“Oh good,” she responded uncomfortably, then flashed one of her practiced, dazzling smiles at Max to hide her nervousness and ineptitude. She could kill Luke Tredsley. He was going to make her look like an idiot in front of Max. Thinking quickly, to avoid having to do the assignment in front of them, Tweed said, “Max, can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure. There’s one down the hall to the right, next to the dance studio.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Tweed walked seductively from the room. Knowing that Max and Luke were watching her, she became empowered. Flirting and boys were no problem for her. She was certain that Max was going to fall in love with her in no time. She walked down the hall and opened a door on the right, expecting a bathroom where she could check that her appearance was still perfect. Instead, Tweed mistakenly opened the door to the dance studio and discovered a girl in gray sweats sitting on the wood floor stretching. From what Tweed had heard from Max and Luke, she knew for certain this was Irene Duncan. Tweed disliked Irene instantly. She didn’t think it was fair for someone so painfully plain to have a father with so much money and influence. Irene also got to spend every waking hour with Max. In Tweed’s mind, she thought of herself as someone of great consequence, yet she didn’t have those things. “Well,” Tweed thought smugly to herself, “at least not yet.” Tweed was used to getting her way and knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Max, and she was going to get him no matter how good of friends he was with this simple girl.
Irene heard the door open and looked up to see someone she could only assume was the legendary Tweed Richards watching her. She was everything Luke had described her to be. Tweed was everything that Irene felt she wasn’t. She was beautiful. She was confident. Irene sat there in silence feeling more self-conscious by the moment. “Hi,” she finally managed timidly. “I’m Irene. You’re Tweed, right?”
“I didn’t realize that Max was babysitting tonight,” Tweed responded snidely at Irene and saw a stunned expression form on Irene’s face due to the blow her words had just delivered.
Tweed could tell that Irene wouldn’t say anything bad about her to Max because she was too intimidated. Tweed’s patronizing attitude gained momentum when she realized that Irene didn’t stand a chance against her because she could be so easily manipulated. She and Max may have been friends, but she was going to be Max’s girlfriend. Enjoying Irene’s discomfort, she finished sarcastically, “Of course, I’m Tweed. Get used to the name because Max likes me, and I’m here to stay.” She started to leave the room and then – as she turned back to see Irene who was still trying to process the import of her words – added, “Oh, and by the way, sweetie, love the sweats!”
Chapter 6
Over the next several months, Irene reconciled herself to the fact that Max was dating Tweed Richards exclusively. He still came to the house every day, but rather than just bringing Luke as he sometimes had in the past, he now often brought Tweed along as well.
Tweed had been right. She and Max had been seeing each other for months, and Irene proved to be no complication. She was certain that Irene never said anything to Max about their first meeting or her subsequent rude comments. She continued to intimidate and manipulate Irene in order to control her involvement with Max. She was cunning and took extreme care not to be unkind to Irene in front of him. She knew that Max would not stand for anyone, not even her, being unkind to the “little creature” that he loved and protected like a younger sister. However, when he wasn’t around, Tweed never hesitated to make it clear to Irene that her presence was most unwelcome. She told Irene that if she ever got in the way of her and Max’s relationship, she would tell him they couldn’t go to the Duncan home after school anymore because she didn’t feel comfortable there. Worried at the prospect of possibly losing Max, Irene kept her mouth shut – never telling him what Tweed had threatened. The last thing she wanted was to antagonize someone like Tweed Richards. Irene had already lost her mother, the person she had cared for most in life, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Max too. It seemed that the less she interfered with him, the more Tweed ignored rather than attacked her. When Tweed would come to the house with Max, Irene quickly got into the habit of retreating to her bedroom, the dance studio, the library, or her father’s study. Max assumed that Irene’s remoteness was to give him space to be alone with Tweed when, in all actuality, Irene was afraid of her and the repercussions that could face her if she were around.
One night after Tweed and Luke had left for the evening, Max sat on the couch in the family room adjacent to the kitchen area. He was deep in thought and seemed worried about something. The house was silent. He had left only one light on in the kitchen and sat stewing in virtual darkness. Just then, Irene walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in her pajamas, her long, dark hair still wet from a recent shower. She flipped on an additional light in the kitchen. She didn’t see Max in the dark family room where he sat watching her. She was humming to herself as she opened the refrigerator door and removed an apple.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Max asked, startling Irene so badly that she gasped and dropped the apple she was holding. It fell to the floor and rolled as she stooped to pick it up.
“Max!” Irene responded her breathing shallow and frightened. “You scared the daylights out of me.” Her breathing was still slightly uneven as she collected herself. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” With the last question, Irene flipped on a light in the family room. “You really shouldn’t scare people like that,” she warned mischievously. “Next time I may come at you with a baseball bat!” They laughed, but then she looked into his face and could tell that he was concerned about something.
“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, I know. Are you okay? You seem worried about something.”
He motioned for her to sit next to him on the couch. She walked over to him and sat down and looked at his face somewhat concerned as she waited patiently for him to tell her what was on his mind. Suddenly she knew what was wrong with Max. Irene was frantic. Max was going to tell her that Tweed had asked him to stop coming to see her. She sat there quietly, waiting nervously, willing herself not to react until Max finished telling her the bad news.
Finally, Max took a deep breath. “I’ve got a little problem, Irene.”
“What?” Her voice was a faint whisper.
“I can’t dance.”
“What?” Irene questioned, her voice returning to normal, her anxiety leaving her instantly.
“You know that I asked Tweed to go to prom with me. Well, that was just brilliant because Tweed told me tonight how excited she is. She went on and on about how much she loves to dance and how good she is at it. How am I supposed to take her to prom when I can’t dance? I probably should have thought of that before I asked her to go. That was smart,” he said sarcasti
cally. He seemed genuinely worried about his minor predicament. Irene’s initial concern was fast replaced by amusement, and she tried to stifle her laughter, but it was too late. “What’s so funny?” he said.
Irene burst out laughing – as Max’s own face spread into a large smile in response to her reaction. “I’m sorry I’m laughing. Nothing’s funny. From the look on your face I thought that something was actually wrong. I should have known it was something serious,” she teased. “Max, you don’t even have to know how to dance anymore,” Irene explained. “You just stand on the dance floor with your hands on her waist and sway back and forth to the music, if you can even call it music. It‘s not like you have to know how to actually dance like people used to. Trust me, you’ll be fine. No one will know whether or not you can dance because they’ll all be dancing just like you.” Her grin became even broader, her voice teasing, and she winked at Max. “No worries, twinkle toes.”
Max repeated jokingly, “Twinkle toes, huh?” Irene understood the mischievous expression on his face and stood up, backing away from him. Max also stood up – suppressing his smile – and began to follow her. Irene turned and ran toward the kitchen, moving behind the kitchen table with Max following her quickly. The table separated the two of them, and Irene moved tentatively trying to decide how to best outmaneuver him. Max watched her face enjoying her dilemma. “Come on, Irene. Give up. There’s no where to run. I’ve got you cornered.”
Irene was laughing hysterically, unable to prevent the tears from rolling down her face. She darted around the table and began to run back into the family room. Max caught her, gently grabbing her around the waist, lifting her easily off her feet. During this playful struggle, they lost their balance and fell ungracefully to the floor where they ended up sprawled together in a tangled heap, Max’s large frame on top of Irene’s tiny one. They were both laughing uncontrollably, their breathing labored from the lively tussle. “You weigh a ton, Max. I can hardly breathe,” Irene joked. “Get off me before you kill me.” She was silent a moment, then her eyes gleamed with amusement, and she pretended to be serious. “You know, on second thought . . . your dance technique’s not half bad. It really was most impressive, twinkle toes.”
“You just keep asking for it, don’t you?” Max looked down into Irene’s flushed face and grinned at her. He rolled off her and stood up, then reached a hand down so that he could help her up off the floor.
When they were both on their feet, Irene volunteered, “Max, if you’re really worried about your dancing, I can help you work on it.”
“Really?”
“Really. We can start right now if you want.” Max nodded eagerly in agreement, and Irene moved to stand directly in front of him. She took his arm, pulled it away from his body, and put her hand in his. “I put my hand on your shoulder,” she explained, “and you put yours on my waist.” After Irene’s initial instructions, Max soon got the hang of things and moved Irene easily around the family room and kitchen. “That’s it! See, I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”
“And we’re not even just swaying back and forth,” he joked. “Thanks for helping me,” Max responded as they finished their last turn around the room.
“You’re welcome. But just remember that one day I may need a favor, and guess who the lucky guy’s going to be?” They laughed again, both enjoying the moment. It had been a long time since they had had this much fun together. They hadn’t been this relaxed since Max started dating Tweed.
After they finished the dance, Irene let go of Max’s hand and moved back so that his arm was no longer around her waist. Max continued, “Well, thanks again. I’m sure Tweed will appreciate it. I didn’t want to end up embarrassing her.” He joked, “She’ll certainly be surprised when she finds out that I’m now an acceptable dancer, thanks to you.”
At the mention of Tweed, Irene’s smile vanished. Her expression turned distant. She spoke as if almost to herself. “It’s interesting, isn’t it, that in a dance timing’s so important. I mean, if you’re on, then everything’s set – but if you get off track, even for a second, it’s hard to ever compensate for the lost time.”
“I’ve never thought about it before.” Max was silent a moment – deep in thought. “I guess you’re right though. In a dance – or even in life – it’s harder to get something back rather than losing it in the first place.” He paused and then smiled reassuringly, “But look at the bright side – you said it was hard – you never said it was impossible – right?”
“No, no it’s never impossible.”
Chapter 7
Boston – Irene age 17
“Irene,” Duncan called up the stairs of the entryway, adorned with lavish Christmas decorations, “Max’s here.” He turned back to Max and embraced him in a warm, fatherly hug. “We’re sorry that Blake’s out of town, but we couldn’t be happier that you’ll be spending your holiday break with us.”
“Thanks for having me, Duncan,” Max responded with a smile. “This place feels like home to me, and there’s no one that I’d rather spend Christmas with than you and Irene. Uncle Blake’s missing out!”
“He certainly is! Well, that’s what you get when you schedule business meetings out of town at this time of year.” They both laughed as Duncan took Max’s coat and hung it on a coat rack and then moved his luggage next to the stairs to take up later. “So, tell me, Max, how’s Harvard?” Duncan questioned as he and Max walked into the family room and sat down. “I know that Irene still sees you, but it seems that I’m never home these days because of work. I hear that you’re graduating in the spring.”
“That’s right. I can hardly believe that it’s coming right up.”
“I’m proud of you, Max. What are your plans after graduation? Are you going to work for Blake right away?”
“Not right away. I’ve applied to Columbia for grad school, but we’ll see what happens. I’m hoping to start there next fall. If all goes well, I won’t be working for The Post until after that.”
“I’m sure that everything will go your way. So, you’ll be in New York in the fall? Irene sure will be excited to hear that!”
Max looked puzzled. “Why would Irene be glad to hear that I’m leaving Boston? I mean, I’m not suggesting she’d be too upset, but I thought she’d be sort of sad to see me go considering all the time we’ve spent together.”
“Hmm . . . hasn’t she told you that she may be moving to New York?” Duncan looked at Max and saw that his words had surprised him. Why would the prospect of Irene’s moving to New York bother Max? “No, I can see from your expression she hasn’t,” Duncan said growing confused. “I’d assumed she told you that she’d applied to Juilliard.”
“She did what?” Max gasped. The puzzled expression disappeared from his face and was replaced by one of hurt. His usual even temper had been provoked, and his voice was stern. “She never told me that she was even considering Juilliard. Every time we talked about her going to college, she changed the subject as fast as possible. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!”
“Why are you so upset?” Duncan responded trying to find the underlying cause of Max’s irritation. “Don’t you want Irene to go? Or is it that you need some space – is that why you seem unhappy about the news?”
“That’s not it,” Max said as he got up and walked away from Duncan. He stood by the window, gazing pensively outside into the frosty, winter night. “I just can’t believe that she never said anything about it.” He sighed heavily, “Don’t you think it should’ve occurred to her to say something to me?”
“Something like what?” Irene asked hearing only Max’s last comment as she walked into the room. She was wearing a baggy red turtleneck and ill-fitting jeans. As usual, she didn’t have on makeup, and her brown hair was wavy and natural. Max turned to face her – his face cold – his arms folded across his broad chest. Her father remained seated on the couch
and felt the tension in the room. Duncan had no idea why Irene hadn’t told Max that she had applied to Juilliard – that she’d been working toward that goal ever since her mother died. “What’s the matter, Max,” Irene asked tentatively, sensing his displeasure. “What should I have told you?”
“That you applied to Juilliard!”
Irene gasped, her eyes troubled, and she looked accusatorily at her father. “You told him! Why?”
“Why?” Max repeated annoyed, “Obviously it occurred to your father that I’d want to know that my best friend applied to the top art school in the country. Don’t you think you should have mentioned it?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll check on some business matters before dinner,” Duncan said clearing his throat uncomfortably as he stood and left the room so that Max and Irene could finish their discussion in private. “It’ll be easier for you two to talk without an audience.” He exited the room hastily before Irene could object to his departure.
They stared at one another, neither saying a word. The silence was long and uncomfortable. Finally, Irene said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Max. I was going to tell you.”
“When?” He raised an eyebrow and countered sarcastically, “Before or after you graduated?”
“Once I found out if I was accepted or not. I didn’t want to tell you unless I got in, because if I wasn’t admitted, then I wasn’t going to tell you I’d ever even applied.”
“So, if you weren’t accepted, I was never supposed to know? Is that it? I thought I meant more to you.” Max’s look changed from annoyance to sadness. He felt disappointed and let down. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I can’t believe I had to find out about it from your father.”
Realizing she had hurt him, Irene walked to him and put her hands just above his elbows, his arms still folded across his chest. “I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t think there’s much of a chance I’ll get in. When I don’t, I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”