This is a short story that takes place in the 1920s. I’ve always loved this time period because of all the excitement and the lovely dresses. I hope you enjoy it!!!
The city of New York in the 1920s was a palace of excitement and new rules that most everybody followed. Though prohibition had been passed to keep alcohol at bay, drinking was never a more favorite pastime with people who thought of laws as mere guidelines for them to break, like the rules of a schoolground, followed only by the students who had nothing else to do but follow the high standards that other people (most likely, their parents) set out for them.
The women at this time were beginning to have their first taste of freedom with their short dresses that seemed to have the essence of a renaissance dress, worn by queen Elizabeth herself, with whole mountains of pearl necklaces and diamonds that sparkled late in the night. The hair at this time was getting as short as the dresses were, with feathers and sequinced headbands adorning the woman’s hair in the unconventional way of that time. And the faces. Oh, the faces! The lips were thin with reddening lipstick and the eyes were the centerpiece of all attraction. Everything in 1920s New York City was a paradise of creativity and excitement…everything, except for me, that is.
Freedom, a powerful word that meant a great many things to a great many people, had not yet found a place in the life of Gloria Sandbourne, for my husband, who had as much as a pretty face as he had a brain that worked, was a conservative, religious man who followed the morale heart of the law, even though he terribly missed the old fashion that he used to drink in the evenings. He was the type of man who believed that change came only in the world of business and not in life itself. He also assumed that it was a woman’s obligation to stay at home to look after the household (as if the people we had hired weren’t enough to do just that) and to tend to her husband’s every need (as if slavery was never made illegal, even though New York was, in my opinion, at least, was as far north as one could go without reaching the freezing cold tundra’s of Antarctica.) I couldn’t even bob my hair or wear a little make-up when we went out to dinner, which was quite often, I’m afraid to say, for I could barely scramble an egg and, anyhow, daddy had left us plenty of money to do so when he passed.
I can’t even remember why I married Chris, handsome as he was to me. We had grown so far apart that we’d hardly even speak at dinner. Part of the reason for this, I must admit, was me being unable to concieve a child, let alone a son who would take over the business once the handsome man, whom I had to call ‘my husband,’ had either retired (a miraculous idea that held a high element of fantasy, since this man seemed to work nonstop) or had, more likely, perished from this world to join another land that many said laid in the far-off blue skies that also held the sparkling stars, as well as the round, grey moon, that even changed with the revolving world and, yet, seemed as if they would all stay in place for all eternity. Life seemed hopeless…until I met Philip.
He was a man who was young in both years and ideas, a man who, I later found, was very dear to my heart and whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
He started out as an accountant at my husband’s firm, as he had just graduated from Harvard with a degree in mathematics, but he had quickly risen to the position of assistant manager. It was his belief that a person who actually worked with passion was one who made a true difference in the world and this, I too, believed with my who heart. If I had gone to college and had a job of which I had earned my own money, I would have made a magnificent changer of the world, revolutionizing the role of a woman from a cumbersome, fretful female to a person who had as rich a personality as a long wad of black velvet fabric.
I met this young man of passion at a golden party that a friend of my husband’s was giving and we found ourselves talking about the changing world. As well as his belief that true passion from work made a difference in this world, he also supported woman’s rights as well as the belief that both sexes be paid equally. He shared my soaring views that all people deserved a voice that they could use to shout their beliefs as they walked from Egypt to Germany with the passion that seemed to rouse both of us in the morning when our first thought was to stay in bed all day to avoid the world of imprisonment.
Our second encounter happened just after I had gotten my hair done at the Ritz, as they had the finest barbers in New York who knew how to bob hair, but decided to leave mine long and flowing. When we met, Philip then claimed to have an appointment to get a shave, but spent the afternoon with me getting tea and cake in the lavish parlor. Again, we spent hours talking and for some reason that I still have yet to ascertain, I told him of my secret desire of always wanting to visit a speakeasy, an illegal place of passion where people of all sorts got in high spirits of drinking and dancing late at night, and I was so surprised to hear of his invitation to go to one with me that I actually accepted. I later thought that I simply wasn’t thinking clearly when doing this action, but then I realized that not a grey nor even a white cloud pondered in my mind when I accepted.
When I got home that evening to our brown house that seemed as dull as the two people living there, I did not tell my husband a thing, in fear that he would object to me going. I did tell him a version of the truth; that I was going out with some friends and wouldn’t be back until later that night. He didn’t try to stop me. In fact, he wished that I would have an enjoyable evening, so I went out and brought a sparkling gold dress that was as short as could be, exposing the length of my legs, which, surprisingly, did not put me in the least bit of discomfort. But it felt so strange not to be wearing a corset that being able to breath for the first time in my life felt immaculate. Just by wearing these short, loose, modern clothing for the first time, I felt the freedom that I’ve always craved. It was complete agony to wait until Saturday evening came around, but the day finally came with the expectation of a grand time at an illegal, secret speakeasy.
Philip finally arrived at eight o’clock and waited for outside the apartment so that my husband wouldn’t notice a man from work taking me to an illegal convention of alcohol. This man of mystery then told me that I looked beautiful and I believed he meant it because I’d never felt so good in my life. I felt confident and truly, truly happy for the first time in a very long time. We then took a cab to the speakeasy and once I was inside, I held my breath in awe. It wasn’t exactly attractive, but there was such an exquisiteness in the air; all the young women in their beaded, short dresses dancing to the jazz band on the makeshift, wooden stage, while the men were gathering the hard liquor that would keep the standards of this illegal place of style in motion.
We first danced the Charleston before I had my first taste of alcohol, which I quickly got used to once I donned a few glasses. We had such a time, dancing and drinking throughout the dark night, but what was really wonderful were the conversations we had amiss the slow, calming music that the band played.
I learned that he was from Wisconsin and that he grew up with his two elderly grandparents, who were both poor and struggled to raise him because both of their health’s were frail. No one ever thought that he would amount to much, but as he worked hard at school, he got a scholarship to Harvard. He told me that he had never made his grandparents prouder than on the day he graduated with honors. I do wish that I could have made my elders proud by going to school and getting more of an education that just learning how to speak French.
He spoke with such passions, such enthusiasm, that you could see his energy within the darkening, weak light-bulbed room. I think that this was the very moment that I found that I loved this strong, modern man, who had such strong ideas that could change the course of history and the culture of the entire world.
After a few excursions of illegal activity, I learned that Philip was in-love with me, as well, though I don’t know why. Perhaps it was my secret air of confidence or my secret desire of freedom. We even kissed each other under the midnight stars that barely shone, since New York was a bright light itself. I began buying more short dresses and going out with Philip to what seemed like every speakeasy in the city.
One night, when the time was nearing midnight, he took me outside and told me that he got another job outside of my husband’s firm and a bigger apartment…an apartment for two. I knew that this one moment would come and I knew exactly what my course of action would be. When I asked Chris about a divorce, he was furious, acting like a drunkard even though he was a man of the law. I tried to tell him about my desire for freedom, but then I found out the true mind of the man I married, for that was the moment that he said, “You can never be free without the access to money and if you leave me, you’ll never see a penny or nickel in the whole of your life.” Right then and there, I walked out of that apartment and never looked back.
Philip and I married and had two children, a boy and a girl, who both grew up fighting for their own freedom and having such confidence and such passion that my Philip had. Chris was right, in way, for we didn’t have much in the way of materialistic things, but we had our love, and that was all we really needed. And even though the Jazz Age was long gone and that Chris had tried to dull the pain when I left him all those years ago with sleep ailments, I still felt like that 1920s girl, like that modern flapper, who danced and drank until midnight, but who loved for all eternity.
The End.
Creative Writing of Emily Walz 