Star Shine (5 page)

“Well, I guess that's what women's lib is all about, right?” Mr. Clay jabbed at his chicken parts, one after the other. “Feels a little tough,” he said. “Well, dig in. We'll see.”

Valiantly they chewed. The cousins giggled and exchanged glances. Sue's blushed-on cheeks deepened in color. Jenny knew she was staring and was unable to stop.

From the grown-ups' table one of the two pale blue persons—Harry, it was—boomed out, “Your daughter reminds me of Alice in Wonderland.” Everyone turned to look. There was no doubt which daughter Harry had in mind.

Jenny began her fart barrage. Mary said in a loud voice, almost a shout, “Who? What?” to drown her out.

“You know, Alice in Wonderland. Through the Looking Glass. Down the Rabbit Hole.”

Mary blushed, but Jenny kept it up, surpassing her previous performances.

The cousins, momentarily nonplussed, turned to each other. “Alice who?” they asked.

“It's all the telly these days, isn't it?” Harry chortled. “Kids don't read anymore nowadays, do they?”

Jenny pretended she had something caught in her throat and made a big to-do of choking to death. Mary pounded her vigorously on the back, smiling tightly. “Are you all right, Jen?” their father said.

“How about another piece of chicken?” Mr. Clay asked, brandishing his serving fork.

“Oh, I simply couldn't!” Willie cried. “It was simply delicious, though, George. You must give me your recipe.”

“Well, first you brown your parts,” George began.

“Will you get the salad, please, Susan,” Mrs. Clay said. Sue left the table, and the blonder of the two cousins said, “How old are you, anyway?”

“Fourteen,” Mary lied sedately, grateful for Sue's absence. She wouldn't be fourteen for another nine months, so she wasn't even thirteen and a half.

“Your sister is very young for her age, isn't she?” the other cousin said, drawing perceptibly away from Jenny, who choked some more just to show she wasn't fooling around.

“How can you say that when you don't know how old she is?” Mary said indignantly.

“She just seems young for her age, that's all.” The cousins bent over their plates and continued to fight with the coq au vin. Sue returned with the salad. Mary saw Sue's lips moving and knew she was reminding herself to “serve from the left, take away from the right.”

“Then you take a truffle …” Mr. Clay doggedly pursued his recipe, although his audience had left him.

“A truffle?” Willie said faintly, eyes glassy.

They had peach shortcake for dessert.

The cousins were cruising along the coast of Maine next week in a sailboat. “Pray that Johnny's there!” they said, rolling their eyes. “If Johnny's there, we hope the fog sets in. I mean, too much.”

“Yeah,” Jenny said, “I agree.” They looked at her from the corners of their eyes and said nothing.

Shortly thereafter, their father looked at his watch and said he knew it wasn't nice to eat and run but they really must be going. He was expecting a phone call, he said, and the girls had an early dentist's appointment. The three of them lurched home, pretending they'd had too much wine.

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” their father asked, putting his key in the lock. Sure enough, the telephone started to ring.

“I thought he was making it up,” Jenny said.

“Yes, I'll accept the charges.… Hello.… No, we just got in from dinner at the Clays'. How is everything?” He listened, frowning. They could hear their mother's voice but not what she was saying.

“They're fine,” he said at last. “They're right here.” He held out the receiver and Mary took it while Jenny raced upstairs to talk to their mother on the extension.

“Darlings, how are you?” Their mother's voice sounded as if she were in a tunnel. “How nice of Susan's mother to ask you all over. Was it fun? Oh, this is such an experience! I have never worked so hard, learned so much! Are you both all right? I'll be home before you know it. Now I've got to run, put on my makeup. Good-bye, good-bye, my darlings!” She blew kisses into the phone and hung up.

Slowly Jenny replaced the receiver. I didn't open my mouth, she thought sadly. I didn't say a word. She picked up the phone again, thinking she'd hung up too fast; maybe her mother was still on the other end. But the sound of an empty line hummed back at her. I didn't open it, not once. I should've told her I want her to come home.

“Didn't you think she sounded funny?” Mary said.

“No, she sounded all right. Don't you think so, Daddy?”

“I imagine she's worn out. That's tough going, driving from one place to the next, always on the move,” he said. “How's that for timing? We walked in the door and there she was. Pretty good going, I'd say.”

They kissed him and went up to bed. It was very hot in their room. A foul-tempered mosquito kept zooming in on them every time they turned off the light. Finally, after about an hour, they nailed him and hurled the corpse out the window.

The darkness in the room was so dense that when Mary closed her eyes, then opened them, she couldn't tell the difference. There were no outlines of windows or furniture. The dark was total. She opened and closed her eyes several times, testing.

“May I just ask you one thing?” Jenny's voice came from a great distance. “What I want to know is, how come it's O.K. for a mother to be young for her age, but it's not O.K. for a kid to be. Just answer me that.”

“They didn't mean anything,” Mary said.

“Asses.”

Mary opened and closed her eyes a few more times. The room filled with the clicking sound of Jenny sucking her thumb. Followed by snuffling sounds.

“What's the matter now?” said Mary. “She's coming home soon, isn't she? What more do you want?”

“She left, didn't she?”

Mary lay rigid, speechless.

After a bit Jenny said, “I bet those asses never even heard of Peter Pan, either.”

Mary swallowed, then said in a falsetto, “Alice who?”

Their laughter came in a rush, then stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and they both dropped, like stones, into the deep well of sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sometimes it seemed their mother had always been away. Her going left a huge hole in their lives. She was always planning things for them to do, spontaneous things—trips, picnics, the more spontaneous the better. “I hate plans!” she told them. “The more spur-of-the-moment something is, the more fun!”

One day last fall, the first really crisp day of September, she'd said, “Let's go pick apples!”

They piled into the car and wandered over back roads, looking for Abernathy's Orchard, where you could “Pick Ur Own,” the signs said.

“Look at that! Will you just look at that!” Their mother jammed on the brakes. “Let's go to the top and see what we can see.”

“That” was a spectacular hilltop, which, they found when they climbed to its top, afforded a wonderful view of Long Island Sound sparkling in the distance.

“It's like the ocean!” they cried. Their mother pointed in her dramatic way and said, “Across there lies Portugal.”

Portugal!

Their mother shielded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the horizon. “Is that a pirate ship I see?” she asked them. “I do believe it is.” So they shielded their eyes with their hands in an exact imitation of her, and, sure enough, they too swore they could see a pirate ship, the one she meant.

“It's probably filled with gold and spices, and Tyrone Power's jumping around on the deck brandishing his sword, and Maureen O'Hara's popping out of her dress and watching,” Mary said.

“Or it might be Errol Flynn,” their mother said. “From here it sure looks like Errol Flynn to me.” Then she flung wide her arms and shouted in exhilaration, “World, I salute you!” and bent down in a deep bow.

Mary and Jenny broke into wild clapping, and Mary cried, “Bravo! Bravo!” getting into the spirit of things, and Jenny joined in, and together they shouted, “Bravo! Bravo!”

Their mother's face became flushed and she said softly, “You know, I think ‘Bravo!' is the sweetest-sounding word in the English language. Imagine being onstage and having the audience rise to their feet and shout ‘Bravo!' over and over. Just imagine what that must be like.” She clasped her hands, and they stood silent, watching her.

She encircled them with her arms and said, “Thank you, darlings,” and they smiled, feeling they'd done something special.

“You know something?” Her mood changed and she was brisk again. “This would be absolutely a perfect place to fly a kite. Up high here it would be marvelous.”

“That would be fun,” Jenny said. “I've always wanted to fly a kite.”

“Then we will. We'll find someplace where they sell kites, and we'll buy one and bring it back here and fly it.”

“What about picking apples?” said Mary, who had been looking forward to this.

“We'll do that too, but first well find a kite.” Their mother started back down the hill.

They drove all over, looking for a store that sold kites. At a small general store a man told them they'd have to go to the mall over on route 12. “There's a hobby shop there might have one,” the man said. “We used to carry 'em, but there's not much call for 'em anymore.”

By the time they found the hobby shop, clouds had swallowed up the sun and a chill wind was blowing. The hobby shop was out of kites.

“Never mind, girlies. We'll do it another day,” their mother said.

“How about the apples?” Jenny said in a small voice.

“It's too late and too cold for that now.” Goose bumps climbed their arms and hid under their shirt sleeves.

“We'll do it the next chance we get,” their mother told them.

But somehow they never had. Still, it had been a wonderful day, they agreed. A day to remember.

The postcards continued, sometimes two a day. She never signed her name, only a row of xxxxx's at the bottom.

In addition to sitting for the Hirshman kids, Mary went several times a week to help Mrs. Wilcox with her twins. “Come with me, Jen, why don't you?” Mary said. “We're starting to toilet-train them today.”

Jenny's eyes bugged out in horror. “Not me! That's not my bag, Mary. Who needs it?”

“The twins, that's who,” Mary said. “They're so adorable. You know what, Jenny, I decided something very important yesterday. I waited to tell you until I had definitely made up my mind. But now I have.” Mary's face and voice were very solemn, and Jenny held her breath, wondering what the big decision was.

“I'm naming my first baby after you. If it's a girl, of course.”

Jenny gulped. “Does that mean I have to see the kid goes to the dentist and church and all that?” she asked.

“Only if I die when it's young,” Mary said. “If me and my husband both die. But we won't,” she said confidently.

“Well, that's all right then.” Jenny felt she should say something more but wasn't sure what. “Thank you,” she said at last. “Thank you” was always good, Jenny decided. “That's very nice of you.”

She told Mrs. Carruthers the news over a glass of iced tea. “My sister Mary's naming her first kid after me.”

“That's a great honor, Jenny. You should be very proud,” Mrs. Carruthers said.

Jenny nodded. “That's what I thought,” she said. “When she first told me, I was a little nervous, but I guess I can handle the responsibility. Of course, it won't happen for a long time. Mary's only thirteen.”

“Oh, you are close then, aren't you? Is that Mary I hear playing the piano?” Mrs. Carruthers asked.

“Yup. She practices a lot. That's delicious iced tea,” Jenny said. “The best I ever tasted.”

“Thank you, Jenny. Another cookie?” Mrs. Carruthers passed the plate.

“Well, I'm watching my weight,” Jenny said, remembering the man at the party.

“Why, you're as slender as can be. You don't need to do that.”

“Did you eat all the Girl Scout cookies?” Jenny sold Mrs. Carruthers ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies every year.

“Long ago. You know my sweet tooth.” Mrs. Carruthers helped herself to another cookie.

“Did I tell you I passed?” Jenny said. “I was afraid I wouldn't, but I did, so this coming September I'm going to junior high school. I'll be in seventh grade. Mary's in eighth. You know something, Mrs. Carruthers?” Jenny's eyes were huge in her thin face.

“No, Jenny, what?”

“I'm scared. In seventh grade things change. People start thinking about boys. People have to be popular in seventh grade. People are not children when they hit seventh grade. At least they pretend they're not children anymore. I like being a child. I wouldn't mind being a child a while longer.”

“Then you just keep on being one.” Mrs. Carruthers patted Jenny's hand. “You just go on being you. That's a very good thing—to be yourself. Don't let anybody talk you into anything. Just stick to your guns and act as you have been acting, and you'll be fine. I promise you, you'll be fine.”

After she'd said good-bye and was on her way home, Jenny thought that was one thing about getting older. Like Mrs. Carruthers. When she said, “You'll be fine,” she sounded absolutely sure of herself.

“I'll be fine!” Jenny said in a loud voice. A tan dog passing by on the other side of the street paused, looked startled, and went on his way, looking back once or twice to see if she was following him.

CHAPTER NINE

“You guys are weirdos, you know that? Absolute weirdos!” Susan exploded. “Here I tell you I've got fantabulous news and you sit there filling your fat faces like nothing had happened!”

“My face isn't fat.” Jenny scooped a big spoonful of marshmallow fluff from the jar. “I've got the thinnest face in the family.”