Полина Саймонс – Tully (страница 26)

Late February, Tully, Jennifer, and Julie sat in the Sunset Court kitchen.

‘Okay, what are we putting in our yearbooks, guys?’ said Julie. ‘We need to write out a will and a dream.’

‘We need a will to dream,’ said Tully.

‘Or a dream to will,’ said Jennifer.

‘Makker, Mandolini,’ said Julie. ‘Shape up. Let’s have it. The yearbook committee is not going to be waiting around for you. The deadline is March second. That’s this Friday, for your information.’

‘Oh, yeah? And who died and made you president?’ said Tully.

‘Secretary, actually,’ said Julie.

‘Well, inspire us. Let’s hear your will, Martinez,’ said Tully, doodling on her sheet of paper. ‘What are you going to leave Tom? Are you going to leave him your virginity? Or is it too late?’

Julie punched her in the arm. ‘Stop talking nonsense. Stop drawing nonsense, too. Work, work, work. How are you guys going to go to college if you can’t concentrate?’

‘My, she is bossy,’ said Jennifer.

‘I learned from the best,’ answered Julie, smiling and pointing at Jennifer, who didn’t smile back.

Tully changed the subject. ‘Where did you say your loved one was going?’ she asked Julie.

‘Brown.’

Tully smiled. ‘Yes. And you are going where? Northwestern? How many miles apart is that? A thousand? Knowing how intimate you guys are, I’m sure you’ll really miss that physical closeness you two share.’

‘Tully!’ said Julie.

Tully went to get a bag of pretzel sticks. Julie grabbed a handful. Jennifer said she wasn’t hungry.

A little later, Tully said, turning to Julie, ‘Robin asked me again if I’d consider moving in with him.’

‘He did?’ said Julie. ‘Again? That’s great.’ She saw Tully’s face, and Jennifer’s face, too. ‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it great? Isn’t it just what you want? To get out of your mother’s house?’

Jennifer and Tully stared at her, then exchanged looks. Tully nodded. ‘You know what it is, Jen,’ Tully said. ‘It’s all that great sex she’s been having with that Romeo of hers. She’s lost her mind.’

Jennifer smiled.

‘Why do you say that? It’s not fair,’ said Julie, banging the table.

‘Martinez,’ said Tully, banging the table herself in jest. ‘You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said the last two months. What are you paying attention to? Tom? The crisis in the Middle East, God help you?’

‘Tell me already!’ said Julie.

‘Julie,’ said Tully, shaking her head. ‘You know Jen and I are going to California.’

‘So don’t go,’ said Julie. ‘So stay. Robin is worth it.’

‘Worth it, huh?’ said Tully.

‘Sure,’ drawled Julie. ‘You stay, you get married, you have a couple of babies. He’ll buy you a house.’

‘Hell, why stop at a house?’ said Tully. ‘Why doesn’t he just buy me a whole life?’

‘Ask him, he’ll do it for sure.’

Tully smiled. ‘What’s wrong with you, Martinez? I don’t want to have babies, I don’t want to get married. I’ve been telling you that since I was about ten.’

‘Well, at ten maybe you didn’t want to,’ said Julie. ‘Right, Jen?’

‘Right, Jule,’ said Jennifer.

‘But you’re eighteen now.’

‘Nothing’s changed,’ said Tully.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Julie said. ‘What do you call Washburn Day Care every Thursday?’

Tully looked at Jennifer with a what-am-I-to-do-with-her look. Jennifer shrugged.

‘Besides,’ continued Julie, ‘what are you going to do with Jen in California? You know she’ll leave you first chance she gets. She wants to get married. She wants to have children. Right, Jen?’

‘Right, Jule,’ said Jennifer, looking at Tully.

‘Jennifer wouldn’t leave me,’ Tully said, mock pouty. ‘Would you, Mandolini?’

‘First chance I get,’ said Jennifer, smiling.

‘I don’t know. It seems a shame to throw Robin away, Tull,’ said Julie. ‘You guys sure do spend a lot of time together.’

‘A lot?’ asked Tully. ‘What, out of a whole day? A whole week? A year? Out of a life?’ Tully laughed. ‘We sure spend a lot of purposeful time together. That red leather in his ’Vette beckons us and seems better than, say, talking.’

Jennifer and Julie giggled. Jennifer was drinking a glass of milk and dipping her index finger into the glass, drawing concentric circles on the table.

‘But think about all the advantages of moving in with him,’ Julie persisted. ‘He’s got plenty of money. He’ll sire cute offspring.’

‘And Tull, think about it,’ interjected Jennifer. ‘If you ask, I’m sure he’ll buy you that house on Texas Street. Dad found out for me who owns it. An old lady.’ Jennifer raised her eyebrows. ‘A very old lady.’

Tully looked from Julie to Jennifer. ‘What is it with you guys? Leave me alone, will you? Jen, what’s the matter? What about Stanford?’

Shaking her head, Jennifer patted Tully on the arm and continued decorating the table with milk rings.

‘Think about it Tully,’ Julie said. ‘You’ll be out of your house.’

‘Yes,’ said Tully. ‘And in somebody else’s.’

‘Oh, yes, but on Texas Street! Just think!’ said Jennifer.

‘Mandolini!’ Tully exclaimed.

Jennifer laughed mildly. ‘I’m only joking, Tully,’ she said. ‘Julie, Tully doesn’t think she loves Robin. And how can you reason with a heart? Right, Tully?’ Most of the milk from Jennifer’s glass was drying on the table.

‘Right, Jen,’ said Tully, looking away.

‘Tully, how do you know you don’t love him?’ asked Julie.

‘I don’t know,’ Tully said slowly. ‘How would I know if I loved him?’

‘You’d know,’ said Julie, glancing at Jennifer. ‘Right, Jen?’

‘Right, Jule,’ Jennifer replied slowly.

Together, Jennifer, Tully, and Julie accomplished nothing that afternoon. At six in the evening they agreed to give up and surprise each other when the yearbooks came out.

In the car, Jennifer sat in the passenger seat and let Tully drive the Camaro to the Grove.

‘You’re doing well, Makker,’ she said. ‘A few more years, and you may pass your test.’

‘Get out of here,’ said Tully. ‘My test is March seventeenth.’

Jennifer shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe you should pray to St Patrick.’

FIVE Jennifer

March 1979

The days spun on. Their pattern was the same, small and uninspired, but each blade of grass brought with it the field of spring, each rainfall washed away the smell of winter. Each breeze carried off the last of winter air. The process was slow, of each tree’s and flower’s rebirth, of each day’s light getting longer by the minute and nightfall’s coming yet later and later. Had they all seen what was growing in the spring of all their lives, they would have paid more attention to those petty things that slip by so unnoticed, so unremembered. Time, however, is slow when nothing happens; and those cracks in the foundation seemed so unrelated, so trivial, that each incident was absorbed and forgotten, the way breakfast and sunset are forgotten – as part of the sameness that filled everyone’s days, especially theirs, especially the days of the young, when they gulped the air and lived to see the better world, the grown-up world, when they could not wait for the days to end so that they could get on with the rest of their lives.