Finding Bluefield (15 page)

“Some of my people see the marble cake as a symbol of harmony,” Susan said. “Everything is intertwined and each flavor relies on the other for existence.”

“It’s just cake,” Nicky said.

“You say that, but I’ve had your pie. And even if it wouldn’t cost me your friendship, I would never say your blackberry pie is just pie. That would just be wrong, plus I don’t think you believe that.”

“I wanted to put frosting on it.”

“That would be wrong. Just wrong.”

Nicky had often wondered if Paul’s father was Jewish. She remembered his name sounded Jewish and he was a teacher. She secretly hoped all the desirable Jewish stereotypes would show up in Paul. What do you do when the stereotypes are true? Look at her and Barbara. Don’t most stereotypes start somewhere? Maybe they’re not stereotypes then. Maybe they’re some sort of cultural identity. Like farmers and the weather. Nicky was glad the Schulman’s were Jewish—not that she had ever had Jewish friends before—but, just in case Paul was part Jewish, genetically speaking, then the Schulmans were exposing him to his own culture, his own heritage, without him even knowing it.

Susan put the sugar on the tray and poured milk into a server. “I have a cousin who lives on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and works in publishing,” she said. “She’s a lot like you; you’d like her.”

“How is she like me?” Nicky was counting coffee cups.

“Her name is Alice.” Susan handed Nicky plates and forks. “We grew up in the same building on Ocean Parkway and I never knew. She told me she didn’t know either, at least she wasn’t sure, until she went away to college, Sarah Lawrence. Not that it was Sarah Lawrence that made a difference.”

“You lost me, Susan.”

“It’s a messy situation,” Susan said. “She lives with her girlfriend and has to tell her parents that they’re roommates. Her parents are always trying to fix her up with men. Mostly widowers, because she’s older now. They surprise her with these fellows when she comes home for Shabbat dinner. When she brings Deborah over, that’s her girlfriend, they sometimes have two men as dinner guests. I asked Alice why she won’t just tell her parents that she’s a lesbian and be done with it? She says it’s because there’s a lot of money involved. Her father made a killing in wash and dry shirts. I think she’s scared it might kill him and cost her any inheritance.”

Nicky sat down. She felt a mixture of panic and relief. She liked Susan and wanted to confide in her, but didn’t want to jeopardize Paul’s chance to stay friends with Josh. “Exactly how are we alike?” Nicky braced herself.

“You know,” Susan stopped cutting and looked directly at Nicky, “you and Barbara.”

“I don’t follow,” Nicky said, trying to stay calm.

“The lesbian thing.”

“Did you ever consider you could be wrong?”

“Me?” said Susan. “Am I?” Susan sat next to Nicky.

Nicky was not really sure what to make of all this. Was this the reason Susan invited them over?

“Maybe I’ll invite Alice and her friend Deborah up for a visit,” Susan said.

“And maybe I’ll invite my Jewish friends over to meet you.”

“Okay, I deserve that,” Susan said, grabbing the tray. “I think that’s everything. Let’s join the others.” Susan stopped in the hallway and turned to Nicky. “So do you have another Jewish friend?”

“No.” Nicky laughed. “Do you have any other lesbian friends?”

“Yes.” Susan took Nicky’s hand. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know.” Nicky took a deep breath. “Are we that obvious?”

“Probably not. But remember, I’m from New York and I’ve learned the signs. And even without all those signs, with your looks, you could get any man you want, so you probably don’t want one. Most people wouldn’t think anything. I’d never say anything to anyone, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Nicky said. “I never worry. Hardly ever. So when did you first suspect?”

“Suspect? I knew when you showed me around your house the day we met.”

“Feel free to invite them. But only if they’re coming to visit you.”

“Good. Now let’s have cake.”

Nicky looked at Barbara sitting in the chair near Abe. They were talking about the space program and waves and transmitters. Barbara could not only appreciate what Abe had to say, she could also follow him, something Nicky found difficult.

“Did you ever want to be an astronaut?” Nicky asked Abe.

“Never. I like the analyzing data. I’m not too crazy about life-and-death adventures. But I’ve met some of the astronauts.”

“Did you meet these?” Josh asked.

“Yes. They go through lots of training.”

“You went through lots of training,” Nicky said.

“Astronauts are a different kind of people. Remind me of cowboys.”

“You’ve met a lot of cowboys?” Susan asked.

“No,” Abe said. “My point is that I resemble them in no way. But we get along because they understand what I do. And I appreciate what they do.”

On TV, the anchors were reviewing those moments when the computers were aiming the astronauts at a crater and had to be shut off. Those were some quiet moments at the control center while Armstrong maneuvered the Eagle craft manually toward a landing. They were also replaying old footage of John Kennedy promising to put a US astronaut on the moon within the decade.

“Too bad we can’t make the same promise to provide health care for all,” Barbara said. “Probably cost less than the space program.”

“You don’t like the space program?” Susan said.

“I like it,” Barbara said. “Exploration is what humans do. Scientific research is always valuable. But a lot of our motivation is to beat these Russians. I just want to know why we don’t want to beat them at health care and housing. They have us beat there. And let’s compete with them in art and music.”

Paul was asleep on the couch by the time Neil Armstrong opened the landing craft and, followed by Buzz Aldrin, took those few steps down the ladder onto the surface of the moon where he kicked up some moon dust. A human had set foot on the moon and did not sink waist deep as had been feared. And for the first time, one of us had left the shelter of our planet and touched another surface in the universe.

“What must that feel like to be out there on another orb, in another realm,” Abe said. “I wouldn’t want to make the whole trip, but I’d love to have that experience. Imagine what it would be like without TV or radio,” Abe said. “You’d see the astronauts leave and then hear about their return. Like Columbus. No one knew what Columbus was up to, whether he was alive or not, or what he found until he came back. And even then, they weren’t completely sure where he’d been.”

“Hey, Abe,” Nicky said, “do you think we’ll ever leave the solar system or find life on another planet?”

“Astronomers have a joke,” Abe said.

“They only have one,” Susan said, “and it’s not even funny.”

“Let me tell it,” Abe said. “Other forms of life have and do exist throughout the universe, but each time a life form evolves enough to be able to seek out other life forms, they destroy themselves.”

*

Nicky stood on her back porch looking over the yard, looking for something that needed doing. The garden was all set. Nothing to do but water and wait for harvest time. The plants were big enough to take care of themselves. The lawn was cut. The new swing set was assembled and stained. When the teapot whistled, she returned to the kitchen where Paul was eating pancakes. Barbara came in as Nicky was pouring hot water through coffee grinds.

“Those look good,” Barbara said to Paul as she kissed him.

“Want some?” Nicky asked.

“I’m late. I’ll eat at the office.”

“How unusual,” Nicky said. She poured Barbara a cup of coffee. “Good thing I don’t fix you a plate anymore. I’m starting to miss those predictable hospital shifts.”

“Not me.” Barbara took the cup, gave Nicky a kiss, and finished buttoning her skirt.

“Paul starts school soon,” Nicky said.

“I know that.”

“Everything will change.”

“Everything always does. Give me a clue here. I’m in a hurry.”

“We’re going to be tied to Paul’s school schedule,” Nicky said. “I’m worried that spontaneity will be gone. We’ll be bound to weekends and school vacations from now on. We won’t be able to get up and go whenever we feel like it. We won’t be able to jump in the car and take trips.”

“We don’t do that now.”

“Still, this is our last chance for a while.”

“There’s still other summers, but do we need to talk about this now?”

“Of course not.”

Barbara was trying to sip as much hot coffee as she could. “Are you okay, Nicky?”

“I’m bored.”

“And I’m late,” Barbara said. “We’ll talk tonight?”

“Do you want to go to the outdoor music festival everyone is talking about?” Nicky said. “It’s not far. White Lake. Maybe two hours.”

“This weekend?”

“I think it starts today and goes for the weekend.”

“I really can’t get off,” Barbara said. “Why don’t you go without me and I’ll meet you there? Maybe ask Susan and Josh.”

“That might work. We could meet on the weekend. It’s not far.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting away,” Barbara said.

“You could volunteer for the medical tent.”

“Spend the weekend treating drug overdoses?” Barbara said. “No, thanks.”

“I’m going to call Susan and ask her if she wants to come along. Maybe we’ll leave today.”

“Just call the office and let me know what you decide,” Barbara said. “I’ve really got to get going.”

“Susan doesn’t like to camp. We’ll have to get a hotel.”

“Call me,” Barbara said. She kissed Paul and Nicky and left.

Nicky gave Paul another pancake and picked up the phone to dial Susan to ask her about going to Woodstock. “Joan Baez will be there. Maybe Dylan will show up. He’s supposed to live around there. The weather is supposed to be great. We should take the boys and go. It will be fun.”

“I’d love to see Dylan again. Abe and I saw him in the city before he got famous. Not that we knew. Who knew?” Susan said. “We didn’t even know he was Jewish.”

“So you’ll go?” Nicky said.

“I can’t. We’re having some friends come up from the city this weekend and it wouldn’t work. But Diane is over here listening and she’s jumping up and down and wants to talk to you.” Susan lowered her voice to a whisper, “I think she wants to go.”

“Put her on,” Nicky said.

*

When Diane and Mary came up the block, Nicky was putting camping gear in the trunk—a precaution in case they couldn’t find a hotel room. Diane lived three houses up the street on Susan’s side and had begun hanging around with Susan and Nicky. Her daughter Mary was the same age as Josh’s little sister, Lila, and she and her husband had been raised in Medford. Her husband worked at the post office and they owned several apartments in town that they rented to students.

“I can’t believe you brought so much food,” Diane said, looking at the backseat. “I think Susan is rubbing off on you.” Diane took Mary out of the carriage and put her in the backseat with Paul. She added her baggage to the trunk.

Nicky closed the trunk and left Diane with the kids and went inside to call Barbara. This time she reached her. “Susan couldn’t go, but Diane wanted to,” she told Barbara.

“You asked Diane?”

“She was at Susan’s when I called and she asked me. I couldn’t say no.”

“I think she likes you,” Barbara said.

“I like you being jealous.”

“Call me tonight,” Barbara said. “Let me know where you are.”

“Love you,” Nicky said and hung up.

Nicky was relaxed behind the wheel as they headed east on Route 206. The top was down, the sun was out, the air was warm. “It’s good to be on the road without an errand,” she said. “I really needed to get away, to get a break from the routine. Especially with kindergarten coming up.”

Diane adjusted her sunglasses and turned the rearview mirror so she could fix her lipstick. “You do this kind of stuff a lot, think up adventures?”

“Not nearly enough. This suburban life is still new for me.”

“I know. Mike has been working a lot this summer, and then he has his softball team,” Diane said. “Mind if I find some music?”

“Go ahead,” Nicky said.

“How do we get tickets?” Diane turned on the radio and adjusted the station.

“They’re selling them at the gate. There should be plenty.”

“I heard Dylan might show up.”

“He’s supposed to live around there.”

“This is great,” Diane said. “People around Medford don’t usually drive convertibles.”

Nicky liked to listen to Diane talk about Medford and its history and customs. It reminded her of the way people back in Bluefield talked about local ways.

“Mike’s father had one of these, but it wasn’t a convertible.” Diane was brushing her hair. “He drove it when we started dating.”

“Was it a Bel Air?”