Everybody's Daughter (14 page)

“I’ll have the roast beef,” Beamer said to the waitress. “And a Coke.” The others ordered sandwiches and soft drinks.

“You know, Beamer,” said Sarah, “I never could figure out how a vegetarian could run a bait shop. Isn’t that just dealing in dead animals?”

“Hey, not our bait. It’s fresh.”

“But you’re promoting the killing of fish, aren’t you?”

“True. But after years of soul-searching my parents decided that eating fish was okay. For other people, that is. Their diet is still pure soybeans and nuts.”

“What’s the difference between eating a fish and eating a cow?”

Beamer shrugged. “They’re the first to admit that their philosophy isn’t pure. We all just make our choices, I guess.”

Wendy grabbed Beamer’s arm and pointed at the stage, where a trio of dancers had appeared. “And my choice,” she said, “is the one on the left.”

With the first gyration the crowd roared and began a ceaseless, rhythmic hand-clapping. Beamer munched her meal and watched the dancers. The music was loud, the costumes brief, the guys young, oiled, and good-looking. “That’s not dancing,” she whispered to Wendy during one number. “He’s just doing aerobics.” Wendy shushed her, then shouted out a lewd invitation to the dancer that was lost in the general uproar. Beamer turned to Jessie, who seemed to be the only one besides herself maintaining a sense of decorum. “Are they going to strip?”

“Later, I think. They want the crowd in a frenzy first.”

“A frenzy? What do they call this? Oh, no, look at that!” she said as two women rushed the stage and reached for a dancer, who adroitly wiggled away.

During the first intermission Beamer questioned Wendy about Bart. “Well, who is he and how did you meet him?”

“He graduated from Pine Grove last year and is going to the community college. We met at a party last fall at the park.”

“Is it serious?”

“We’re serious about having fun.”

Martin’s philosophy. Beamer considered it while sipping her soda slowly. The ice had melted, which watered down the flavor. She made a face.

Wendy laughed. “Look at her—she has to think about having fun.” Wendy shook her head. “Loosen up, Bea. A little pleasure would do you no harm. And it doesn’t look like your chances for that are good with Andy.”

Beamer didn’t want to talk about Andy. “Back to Bart,” she said. “I don’t understand it—you’ve been going with a guy for four months and I don’t even know about it.”

Wendy lit a cigarette. “That’s because, dear girl, if you are not off someplace being chaste with Saint Andrew, you’re playing with that friend of yours—the one on the radio.”

“Martin.”

“Yes, Marvelous Martin. No one ever sees you anymore. You play softball during lunch hour, you take the first bus home after school, and you hide on the weekends.”

Beamer rubbed her eyes. The cigarette smoke was thick and irritating. “I’m not that bad.”

“You are that bad. Of course, if I were dividing my time between two boys, no one would ever see me either.”

Jessie wrapped ice cubes in a cocktail napkin and handed them to Beamer. “Here, hold this against your eyes. It cools the burning.”

“Don’t bother her about Martin,” said Sarah. “She assures me it’s a platonic relationship.”

“Is it?” asked Jessie.

The melting ice soaked the napkin and started dripping down Beamer’s wrist. She opened her eyes and blinked. The burning was gone. “Yes,” she said. “It is very platonic and very innocent.”

“I bet,” said Wendy. “Innocent with Martin like it’s innocent with Andy.”

Wendy had put her burning cigarette in an ashtray next to Beamer, who pushed it across the table and waved away the column of smoke. “It is innocent, Wendy,” she said.
Nothing you’d understand, of course,
she added silently.

Wendy picked up her cigarette, inhaled, and released a series of small rings. “Then you’re a fool.”

Beamer was relieved when the music resumed. She’d never actually liked Wendy.

Two numbers into the second set, Wendy rushed to the stage and held up a five-dollar bill. The dancer grabbed the bill and placed it between his lips, then unsnapped the leather-and-rhinestone side snaps of his silk briefs. He tossed the briefs into the audience. The audience increased its roar and speeded the pace of its clapping. A G-string. Beamer wondered if it was called something different on a guy. Maybe a G-thong? The dancer sashayed toward the edge of the stage, turned his back to the crowd, untied the string, and waved it above his head as he quickly exited. The audience erupted.

Beamer slumped in her seat. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to Jessie.

“Do you want to leave?” Jessie said. “I’d like to. Sarah can get a ride with Wendy.” Beamer nodded and they rose and left, their exit scarcely noticed by their friends.

Outside, they quickly walked to Jessie’s car. Beamer inhaled deeply; the sharp, cold air was immediately and thoroughly cleansing. “I’ve never done it,” she said, “but I think now I understand the attraction of jumping naked into a snowbank after a sauna.”

“It really was hot in there. What should we do now?”

“How about a thick, cruel malt at Simpson’s Cafe?”

“I don’t think so. It’s awards night for the fishing tournament, and the place will be packed with lonely fishermen.”

“Sounds dangerous. Well, if you don’t mind eating carob and nut cake and listening to old hippies playing children’s games, we can go to my place.”

“Can’t be any worse than what we’ve just seen.”

“Okay, we’ll party at the bait shop.”

Beamer repressed a moan as she sat on the frigid car seat. When Jessie started the car, the cold air stored in the heat vents burst out, rushing over their feet and across their faces.

“Why do we live in this cold place?” said Jessie. “It’s so inhuman.”

Beamer stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets. “A naked guy,” she said. “Jessie, do you realize I’ve just seen my first naked guy?”

“Happy birthday, Beamer. Happy birthday.”

Chapter 15

The highway out of town was deserted. Jessie fiddled with the radio, finally pulling in a distant southern station. They listened to the strong, dear sound for several minutes before speaking.

“Carob, that’s a substitute for chocolate, right? So your family doesn’t eat chocolate either?” Jessie’s voice was politely incredulous.

“I’m exaggerating. They gave in years ago and started eating chocolate again.”

“You always make fun of the commune. I can’t believe you hated it that much. What was it like?”

“The commune?”

“Yeah.”

“It was pretty. Woodlands must have been the most beautiful spot in northern Minnesota. Still is, even though they’ve built those townhouses and tennis courts.”

“That’s not what I meant. What was it like living there?”

Beamer took off her mittens and stuffed them into her jacket pockets. “Crowded. Maybe not literally, but it felt that way. There were people everywhere. If I went walking in the woods, there was someone there. If I went to the beach, someone was there. Everywhere. We lived in this dorm, kind of a cabin, really—”

“Like the one by the picnic spot?”

“That’s the very one. Twelve of us lived in that dorm.”

“Twelve people, wow.”

“And that was after they built the other dorms. For about two years everyone was together. Let me tell you, you can crowd a lot of bunk beds into one building. I was conceived in a bunk bed.”

Jessie laughed. “It does sound crowded.”

“It wasn’t just the living conditions, it was knowing that no matter what I did, people were watching. Everything. When I was eight I wanted to join the Brownies. They took a vote! All of them. My parents couldn’t just decide that for themselves; they all had to vote. That’s what I really mean by crowded.”

“Did they let you join?”

“No. They decided the Scouts were too militaristic. Those brown uniforms, I guess.”

Jessie laughed, shifted slightly in her seat, and changed her grip on the steering wheel. “At least you were never lonely.”

Beamer turned to look out the window. “I’m not so sure,” she said softly.

They let a mile speed by. The radio station was playing another Tina Turner song. The girls looked at each other and smiled.

“She’s older than my mother too,” said Beamer. The rough beat of the song kept pace with the speeding car. Beamer closed her eyes and nodded along. The song was on the jukebox at Simpson’s Cafe, and she and Andy had often danced to it. “You know, Jessie, this may come as a surprise, but Andy is a terrific dancer.”

“I’ve noticed. We’ve all noticed. And we’ve also all noticed that you are the only one he ever, ever dances with. He’s a nice guy, Beamo. You’re lucky. Too bad about tonight, though.”

“He is a nice guy. And of course, if I had been with Andy tonight I would not, definitely not, have seen a naked guy.”

“You guys have been going out for—what?”

“Six months. Steady and true.”

“And still no sex?”

“No.”

“Everyone knows about his famous statement, of course, but we were all so quick to laugh that no one asked him why. Can you tell me why he doesn’t want to? Religious reasons?”

“No. It would be nice if it were that clear.”

“Why, then?”

Beamer drew a long breath.
He does want to,
she thought, but didn’t say. “Waiting isn’t a strict rule for him, okay? He just thinks it might be a good idea.”

“A good idea for others?”

“For anybody.”

“If it’s not an absolute, why not?”

Beamer shrugged.

“No suspicions? You two must at least talk about it.”

“A little.”

“So?”

“What can I say? All year he’s been staying in touch with his old girlfriend. And sometimes I think he was avoiding even talking about sex because he was confused about commitments.”

“Sarah told me he broke off with her.”

“I’ll kill her.”

“Who?”

“Sarah. She’s got such a mouth.”

“So if Andy’s not confused anymore, what happens next? More talk, or will he push for something else?” Their warm breath had fogged over the side windows. Beamer traced a heart and inscribed it with her own and Andy’s initials. “True love always,” she said. Jessie laughed.

“Andy would never, ever force anything,” Beamer said.

“Of course not. So it’s mostly you saying no.”

“Mostly.”

“Why?”

Beamer didn’t answer.

“Everybody who’s doing it says it’s pretty special.”

Beamer shrugged. “So they say.”

“You doubt it?”

Beamer thought of Wendy, of the women screaming after the strippers; she thought of Martin and his long list of girls. “Jessie, I truly believe that without anything meaningful in life, yeah, sex probably seems special. I suppose it could fill some emptiness.”

Jessie laughed. Beamer looked at her and frowned. “I’m sorry, Beamo. What you said is really great. I think you’re right. I laughed because, well, most of us have fears about sex, or ideas about sex. You have a philosophy.”

Beamer smiled. “It’s how I was raised. Life itself is a philosophy.”

“So tell me, is there a simple reason why you don’t want to have sex with Andy?”

With a slow circular motion of her palm, Beamer erased the heart. “I guess I just don’t want to be that close to someone.”

They reached the store. “Thanks for letting me intrude on something so private,” Jessie said.

“No big deal.”

“It was always an issue between Rob and me, which might explain why once again I was free and single on a Saturday night.”

“I’m glad you were. Rob’s loss.” They got out of the car and walked toward the store. “Jessie,” said Beamer as she reached to open the door, “I feel like I should warn you about this.”

“About what?”

“These people are kind of weird about my birthday. I was the first baby born at the commune, and they have always celebrated my birthday. With or without me.”

“That’s weird? It just sounds sweet.”

“No, it’s not sweet, it’s like—” She gripped the doorknob tightly, but didn’t turn it. “—it’s like they can’t let go of something that isn’t there.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Beamer sighed. “Let’s see if there’s any cake left.”

Their entrance went unnoticed. A small circle of the friends were engaged in earnest conversation around the wood stove. Beamer led Jessie to the back room, where they deposited their coats, then up the stairs to the family’s home. They met Maud going down. Beamer introduced Jessie.

“Wonderful,” said Maud. “We’re about to start charades and can use some more people. Will you join us?”

“Probably not,” said Beamer.

“Maybe after we have some cake,” said Jessie.