by Judy Blume
Late in the day, she and Bru walked hand in hand along the water’s edge, stopping once to lie in the wet sand, their bodies pressed together, his hand pushing up the top of her bikini as they kissed hot, salty kisses. When he promised a surprise for her birthday, she smiled. After all, wasn’t he what she wanted more than anything? But not here, not now. It would happen later, after dark, with the stars overhead and Stevie Nicks singing.
By the time they got back Caitlin and Von had the picnic supper spread out on Abby’s best blue and white cloth. “I know you’ll be disappointed,” Von told them, “but Caitlin forgot the tofu.”
This had become a running joke between them since Caitlin had convinced Von to give up his Marlboros. She’d told him how she hated the smell and the taste of tobacco and just like that, he’d gone cold turkey. Hey … what guy in his right mind wouldn’t trade his Marlboros for Caitlin? he wanted to know. But give up his barbecued chicken, greasy burgers, and fries? Give a guy a break. There was a limit to his adoration.
He came up behind Caitlin, his arms around her waist, his mouth against her neck. “I guess I’m gonna have to eat her instead,” he said, nibbling his way down to her shoulder, while she closed her eyes.
It was a rare, sultry Vineyard night and Vix threw Bru’s old shirt over her bikini but she didn’t button it. After they’d polished off the chips and salsa, the couscous and veggies, the bread and fruit, after the guys had each put away a couple of beers, Caitlin carried out the birthday cake with one sparkler blazing in the center. They sang to her, making her laugh with their off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” then Caitlin dropped to her knees, taking Vix’s face between her hands like a lover, kissing her directly on the lips, embarrassing the guys and Vix. “Did you make a wish?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What’d you wish for?”
“I can’t tell … if I do, it won’t come true.” But she looked at Bru and knew her wish was going to come true.
Caitlin laughed, then flopped down beside Von. “And now …” she said, pulling a fat joint out of a Baggie, “a little something to help us celebrate.”
“What’s this?” Von asked, totally disbelieving. “Since when does the Tofu Queen indulge?”
“Oh, come on …” Caitlin laughed. “It’s not tobacco … it’s homegrown stuff … direct from Santa Fe.” She lit up, took a drag, and passed it to Von, who didn’t argue, but closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before passing it to Vix.
Somebody always had a joint at school parties. By then she’d been to her share and that was the least of what they had. Sure, she’d tried it a couple of times, not enough to get really stoned though. It made her more sleepy than silly. But that night she already felt so high —from the moonlight, from the music, from the promise of what was to come—that when Von passed her the joint she took a deep drag, then lay with her head in Bru’s lap watching the stars overhead. If you concentrated on the sky on a night like this you could almost always find a shooting star. On the boom box James was singing “How Sweet It Is” … then Carly joined in on “Devoted to You,” which made Vix sad because everyone knew they’d split up. She had no idea how much time had passed, how many drags she’d taken on the joint, when Caitlin jumped up. “Wait …” she cried. “I forgot to give Vix her present!” She grabbed a flashlight and raced back to the truck, returning with a big, beautifully wrapped box. “For you, Vix … ”
“For me?” Vix sat up.
“Yes … open it.”
“Open it?”
“Yes.”
Vix pulled off the paper and ribbon, slowly raised the lid off the box, and lifted out something delicate and white. She wasn’t sure what. She started laughing. Was it a nightgown or a prom dress? And where did Caitlin think she would ever wear it?
“Try it on,” Caitlin said.
“Try it on … now?”
“Yes …”
“But I’ve got citronella … and sunscreen …”
“It’s washable,” Caitlin said and now she was laughing, too. “I made sure before I bought it … that it was … you know … washable.”
“Washable …”
“Yes … washable.”
This struck Vix as hysterically funny. She wondered why Bru and Von didn’t get it, didn’t get that this dress, or whatever it was, that was suitable for a princess to wear to a garden party, was washable. The word itself—washable—was enough to send her into gales of laughter.
Caitlin held out her hand. Vix took it and Caitlin pulled her to her feet, then led her behind the dunes. Vix tossed Bru’s shirt up in the air, still laughing. She untied her bikini top and flung that aside, too.
Caitlin dropped the dress over her head. It fell around her, cool and smooth, a perfect fit. Well, maybe it was cut dangerously low in front, but so what? Who was going to see it besides Caitlin and Bru and maybe Von, but he had eyes only for Caitlin.
Caitlin adjusted the silky rose centered between Vix’s breasts. “Here …” she said, “I think it goes more like this …” and she eased the dress off her shoulders. She stepped back to admire her work. “God, Vix … you look so beautiful!”
Then they were dancing on the beach, Caitlin and Vix, twirling to “Wild thing … you make my heart sing …” Vix had never felt more beautiful, more desirable. She couldn’t wait to be with Bru! Couldn’t wait to actually make love, to feel him inside her. Was she stoned? Maybe … probably … but so what? For once she wasn’t self-conscious about her body. She was proud of her lush breasts, her shapely legs glistening with oil, her long dark hair swinging back and forth as she twirled, growing more and more dizzy. It was her birthday, she was seventeen, dancing on the beach in the moonlight as her lover watched, watched with desire written all over his face. Tonight she was the wild thing. The temptress.
Then they were all dancing together, all four of them, and she was thinking, It can’t get any better than this … ever! They were hugging and kissing, so much in love. This will be my best Vineyard memory. This will be the one I remember all my life.
The kissing grew more serious, deeper, hungrier. Vix let her eyes close and she moaned softly, turned on by hot breath, soft lips, hands sliding the dress from her shoulders, hands on her naked breasts. She felt the hardness inside his shorts and reached down.
“Vix …” he whispered. “Oh baby …”
Oh baby … oh baby? Wait! Something was wrong with this picture. The hands on her body weren’t Bru’s, the lips on her lips weren’t his. She tried to keep her eyes open but everything was so fuzzy.
Suddenly she felt sick. She broke away and raced down to the water. She bounded out in the low tide … farther and farther, until the water caught the skirt of her dress, making it billow out around her like a parachute. Then she leaped like the deer she’d once seen in the pond, until the water was deep enough to carry her. She lay down … lay down and let the rise and fall of the sea carry her away. She could hear Caitlin’s voice screaming, “Oh my God … Vix … ”
And Bru yelling, “Victoria … Victoria!” Then they were coming after her but she didn’t care. She was swimming now, swimming straight out like a mermaid, all the way to China, or whatever was on the other side.
20
SHE WAS DREAMING of her own funeral. Tawny peered into the casket and yelled at her. Drugs, Victoria! After you promised …
One joint! Vix argued, sitting straight up in the casket. One joint between four people.
Tawny wouldn’t accept her feeble excuse. You see … you see now why we made you promise! But you broke your promise, didn’t you? Drugs and sex and … I don’t even want to think about what else. I should have sent you to parochial school.
But I’m dead, Mother. What’s the point in being angry?
Then act dead! Tawny shoved her back down and lowered the lid on the casket.
The scene switched. Vix was in the ocean and it was dark. So dark. She kept slipping under. There was no point in struggling. She might as well give
in to it. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She thrashed, kicked, screamed. Then she was being carried, no dragged, across the beach. Someone else was there, too. She could hear them whispering as they dumped her body into the back of a pickup truck. But it wasn’t really a truck, it was a hearse. They thought she was dead. She cried out and banged on the glass partition separating her from them. But it was no use. They couldn’t hear her.
She awakened and sat upright, gasping, drenched with sweat. A terrible feeling washed over her, a feeling of impending doom. By sunrise she was dressed and throwing her clothes into the blue canvas duffel she’d bought with her own money to replace Tawny’s old suitcase. She had to escape. Now … before it was too late.
As daylight lit the room Caitlin stirred. Vix stood absolutely still, willing her to stay asleep. But Caitlin opened her eyes, saw that Vix’s bed was neatly made, looked around, then focused on Vix and her duffel.
“Don’t do this, Vix. Don’t ruin everything.”
Vix felt like shouting at her, I’m not the one who ruined it! Even though she couldn’t remember everything about last night she remembered enough. It could have been another Vineyard disaster. She could have been the next Mary Jo.
“So we got a little stoned,” Caitlin said. “Big deal. Nothing happened.” She gathered her hair with one hand and pulled it away from her face.
When Vix didn’t respond Caitlin sat up and pointed a finger at her. “Where do you come off acting so fucking self-righteous? It’s not exactly like you were playing jacks with Von!”
Vix felt her legs begin to tremble.
“Look at you …” Caitlin said. “You’re so scared of that side of yourself you have to run away.”
Suddenly it all became clear to Vix. “You planned it, didn’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was supposed to be the best damn birthday you’ve ever had. So maybe it got a little out of control. I’m sorry. Is that what you want me to say?”
“Was Bru in on it? Just tell me … was he part of your plan … or was it just you and Von?”
“You’re paranoid if that’s what you think,” Caitlin said. “Nobody planned anything. It just happened.” She lay down again with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
Vix’s head was pounding. If she didn’t get away … if she didn’t get out of here … She zipped up her duffel, expecting Caitlin to jump out of bed and beg her to stay, reminding her that their friendship was more important than anything or anyone.
“You know something?” Caitlin said, her voice a disgusted whisper. “You’re an emotional iceberg, terrified of your own feelings.”
Keep your feelings to yourself, Victoria. Don’t ever show anyone your disappointment.
She slung the duffel over her shoulder. “And you’re a disaster waiting to happen!” she told Caitlin.
“Fine, go …” Caitlin dismissed her with a wave of one hand. “Have a mediocre life filled with mediocre people. Forget NBO … forget our pact. Because that’s exactly what you’re heading for … a boring and ordinary life.”
“Which is better than what you’re heading for!” Vix longed to slam the bedroom door. Instead, she pulled it closed behind her, tiptoed down the stairs, left a note for Abby and Lamb on the kitchen table, then let herself out the door. Only then did a single sob escape from deep inside. But she swallowed that, too.
She’d hiked halfway out to the main road when she heard a truck coming from behind. She shifted the duffel to her other shoulder. But she didn’t turn, not even as the truck slowed down.
Gus
WHAT WERE THEY going on about at the crack of dawn? He’d tried holding the pillow over his head but he couldn’t breathe that way. Fuck. He’d been out until after two A.M. Not that he was complaining. You don’t complain when a good-looking woman hands you a slip of paper with her room number on it while you’re clearing away her grilled swordfish, even if she is wearing a wedding band.
They’d have to use the bathroom, she whispered, when he’d knocked on the door, in case her girlfriend returned while they were at it.
Okay … sure … the bathroom. What did he care? She’d padded the tub with a blanket and towels. If by chance her friend came back early, she’d say she was taking a bath. A bath, right. Whatever she wanted. She was wearing a silky pajama top with nothing underneath. Nothing. He was hard just thinking about it.
He took off his jeans, climbed into the tub, lay on his back. She straddled him, talked herself through it. That’s it, oh yes … keep going … oh … you’re so strong … She bit his shoulder, pulled at his hair, clamped her hand over his mouth so he couldn’t cry out when he came. Thank you, very nice … she’d said, shooing him out as soon as they’d finished.
Now he can hear the door across the hall open, then close. He listens. Cough Drop. He’s sure of it. Recognizes her footsteps. He pulls on his jeans, sneaks downstairs, gets into the truck, trails her down the road. She’s carrying her goddamn duffel over her shoulder like some kind of navy recruit. Where does she think she’s going?
21
VIX NEVER FOUND OUT how Gus happened to be driving down the road early that morning. Or how he knew the Homeport was looking for mid-season replacements. She got in beside him and stared straight ahead. He didn’t try to make small talk. He asked only one question and that not until they’d stopped to buy juice and doughnuts which they ate overlooking the cemetery in Chilmark.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You sure you don’t want to go home?” Gus said.
She thought he meant Santa Fe and shook her head again. No way could she deal with her parents now.
The Homeport hired her just like that, without even checking her references. It meant a big cut in salary unless she could make it up in tips. But as she explained over the phone to Joanne, the owner of the cleaning service, her circumstances had changed and she couldn’t come back.
“What about Caitlin?” Joanne asked.
“I can’t speak for her.”
“Well, this is very disappointing,” Joanne said. “You and Caitlin were the perfect team. I depended on you to finish the season.”
“I’m really sorry. It was a great job. But I have no choice.”
Joanne didn’t get it and tried wooing her back with more money.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling even more foolish. “I’ve already taken another job.”
Joanne sucked in her breath. “With the competition?” Joanne never referred to the other cleaning services by name.
“No … at the Homeport.”
“The Homeport? Why would you want to work there?”
“It’s … personal.”
“I see.” She paused and Vix imagined her chewing on her pencil, the way she did when she was talking to a dissatisfied client. “Well, if you change your mind give me a call. I’ll always have a job for you.”
“Thanks.”
Vix dragged her duffel halfway out the long dock, to Trisha’s boat, and caught her just before she left for work. When she explained that she’d left Lamb’s, that she had a job waiting tables at the Homeport and needed a cheap place to stay, Trisha said, “You’re looking at it, honey.”
Trisha tossed her a key to the hatch lock, told her to take either of the berths in the main cabin, then left for Vineyard Haven. “I should be back around seven, unless I meet Arthur, my new squeeze, for dinner.”
The second Vix was alone, she crumpled. She wept, she wailed, she soaked her T-shirt with her tears, sob bing until she gagged. She was not an emotional iceberg! Then she lay down in the tiny berth and fell into a deep sleep.
She’d have slept all day if she hadn’t heard banging on the hatch and voices calling her name. She jumped up, disoriented, needing a minute to figure out where she was and why. When she finally opened the hatch and squinted in the bright sunlight, she saw Lamb and Abby.
“Vix,” Abby began, “we were so worried!”
&n
bsp; “Didn’t you get my note?”
“Yes … but you didn’t say where you were going, or why.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure where I was going when I wrote it.” How had they found her? Had Trisha called them already?
“Look …” Lamb said, “whatever happened between you and Caitlin I know she regrets it.”
“All friends have disagreements from time to time …” Abby added. “It’s only natural … it’s like a marriage …” She looked at Lamb, then back at Vix. “Oh, Vix … no boy is worth this kind of grief.”
How did she know there was a boy involved? How much exactly had Caitlin told them?
Abby came toward her, steadying herself as the boat rocked in the breeze. “Come home,” she said, hugging Vix. “We’re family. You belong with us.”
“I can’t … please …” There was no way for Vix to explain.
Finally Lamb said, more to Abby than to her, “If Vix needs some time and space … I trust her judgment.”
“How much time?” Abby asked. “A day … two days? We’re responsible for you, Vix. We can’t just let you live on your own. Your parents assume …”
Her parents! “Please don’t tell my parents I’ve left. Not yet …” Then she added, “I’ll understand if you want to give the scholarship to someone else, someone more … worthy.” Her voice broke on that. They wouldn’t be as lenient this time as when they’d found out she and Caitlin had been hitching. A few soft words, a promise they wouldn’t hitch again, and that had been it. Not that it mattered because by the following summer Caitlin had her license. This time was different. This time there was more at stake.
Lamb and Abby looked at one another again. Then Abby said, “This has nothing to do with the scholarship. Nobody’s going to take anything away from you.”
Vix wanted to cry with relief. How easy it would have been to go back with Abby.