How we cite our quotes:
[Lorraine:] Monday when we had the spaghetti dinner and put on those costumes was a lovely evening. It really was. I think when we looked at each other in the candlelight, it was the first time I was glad to be alive. I didn't know exactly why. It was sort of silly I suppose—him with his moustache and me with the feather in my hair—but somehow it was as if I was being told about something, something wonderful, something beautiful waiting just for me. All I had to do was wait long enough. (12)
Lorraine's memory of this evening is equally happy. They have created the Hollywood version of the "romantic dinner," complete with candles, wine, and fancy clothes.
[Lorraine:] This particular mood in John had been building up ever since the night that he kissed me in the bedroom. I don't know whether he had just started thinking about our relationship—that I might possibly be something more than his straight man. I really don't know. But suddenly we had become slightly awkward in front of each other. Of course I had always been clumsy around him, but at least I knew I had been in love with him for months. I also knew he liked me a lot but only as a friend or a dreamboat with a leak in it. But now suddenly he was wearing shaving lotion, combing his hair, and fighting with me. There was something about all that which made me smile as I scraped the Sloppy-Joe sauce off his plate. (12)
We see more of Lorraine's feelings about the early stage of their romance. Interestingly, Lorraine sees John's picking fights with her as romantic. Huh? In their world, it seems that bickering is taken for granted as an aspect of romance.
[Police officer:] "This where you live?"
[Lorraine:] "Yes . . . please. . . ."
"Do you kids always get your kicks picking on old people?"
"Please just let us go. I promise we won't do anything like this again. We won't go over there any more." I was ashamed of myself because I was beginning to plead.
"Let's just talk to your family a minute," the skinny one said, opening his door. I burst into tears as the cold air rushed into the car. […]
The policeman took me up the steps.
"My mother's going to beat me."
"You should have thought about that a little earlier, young lady." He rang the bell. (14)
We suddenly see Lorraine and John's involvement with Mr. Pignati from the point of view of the police, who think they are bad kids "picking on old people."