Summer Sisters

by Judy Blume

  “Well, Victoria?” Paisley said.

  “Yeah … some of it is funny, I guess,” she answered. She tried to remember if she and Bru ever sat around laughing after sex. She didn’t think so. Usually they fell asleep in one another’s arms. Just thinking about it made her miss him.

  Caitlin called at four A.M. from Paris. “I had an affair with a woman. She reminded me of you.”

  “What do you mean?” Vix spit hair out of her mouth.

  “Dark hair, full breasts, beautiful skin …”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

  “Why … does it shock you?” Caitlin asked.

  “Are you trying to shock me?”

  Caitlin laughed. “I’m always trying to shock you.” A long pause, then, “I’ve met a lot of LUGs here.”

  “Slugs … did you say slugs?” She held the phone to her other ear.

  “LUGS. L-U-G-S. That’s what they call themselves. Lesbians Until Graduation.”

  “Oh … LUGs.”

  “But she was possessive,” Caitlin continued. “She accused me of being a political lesbian, not a biological one, and when I refused to give up men she got so pissed she cut my panties into little pieces and tossed them out the window … right onto the Boul St. Germain. I was lucky to get out of there alive!” Laughter. “Are you still there … did I lose you?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Did you know this is the warmest February on record in Paris?”

  “No.”

  “Flowers are blooming in the parks.”

  Bru had sent her an amaryllis for Valentine’s Day. It sat on her windowsill, its petals falling to the floor.

  Paisley

  WHAT SHE LIKES BEST about Victoria is that she listens and evaluates. She doesn’t just run on endlessly for the sake of hearing her own voice, the way Maia does when she’s feeling insecure. When Victoria invites her to dinner at Lamb and Abby Somers’ house she’s impressed. It’s a gorgeous old place on Appleton, very smartly done, very Cambridge. She doesn’t quite get the relationship between Victoria and the Somers. Victoria calls them her surrogate family. Surrogate as in Baby M? She’d love to know but she doesn’t ask.

  At dinner she’s seated next to the Democratic State Chair. She takes this opportunity to expound on the state of politics in the U.S. of A. She lets him know exactly what she thinks of Nancy Reagan and her Just Say No campaign. As if simplistic slogans can solve the problems of the world! She’s worried about the state of this country. Really. Someone has to take action before it’s too late!

  He’s dazzled by her sharp thinking, she can tell, and encourages her to join the Young Democrats. A bright young woman like you can go far. Have you thought of running for office one day? Run for office? Is he out of his mind? She’s got other plans. And was that his hand on her thigh or was it just her imagination?

  The Young Dems love having a southern girl like her aboard. Of course, they don’t know shit about the South. Half of them don’t know what state Charleston’s in. And this is Harvard! Which proves geography’s another thing going down the tubes in the U.S. of A.

  28

  VIX AND PAISLEY worked their tails off trying to get out the vote for the Mondale-Ferraro ticket and were devastated by the landslide presidential election.

  “Welcome to the eighties,” Maia, the only Republican among them, sang.

  “The eighties are half-over,” Paisley reminded her.

  “Too bad,” Maia said.

  Paisley groaned. “Four more years of Adolfo suits and tight smiles. Do you think she goes down on him?”

  “Please!” Maia said. “She’s the First Lady.”

  They were living in Leverett House. Vix had thought, when she’d signed up with Paisley last spring, she’d be getting away from Maia. But now they had two classes together and Vix was surprised by Maia’s intelligence. Not only that, but they both enjoyed Mexican food, the hotter, the better, foreign movies, even bad ones, and Joan Armatrading. Besides, they weren’t sharing a room, which made it easier. And Maia swore she was going to conquer her nail-biting habit.

  Caitlin called from London on election night. “Politics are such a bore,” she said when Vix griped about the results. “Look at it this way … anyone who’s willing to run, I’m not willing to vote for.”

  “But you had an absentee ballot, didn’t you? You voted.”

  “No, I didn’t vote. I just told you.”

  “That’s why we lost! Because people like you just don’t care enough.”

  “People like me? Should I be offended by that remark?”

  “No … well, maybe … sorry. I’m just disappointed. And tired. What are you doing in London anyway? I thought you were at the Sorbonne.”

  “I’m here to see a play. The producer invited me. I’ll be back at school on Thursday.”

  “Are you coming home for the holidays?”

  “I’m going to Gstaad with Phoebe. Our annual mother-daughter ski trek. Want to come?”

  “I have other plans.”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  Abby invited Vix for Thanksgiving dinner but she opted for the Vineyard instead. When she got there she was miffed Bru wasn’t as affected by the outcome of the election as she was.

  He didn’t get her anger. He’d voted the straight Democratic ticket. What more did she want? It wasn’t worth getting all steamed up over. Besides, Reagan was good for business. And business was what mattered.

  They began to argue about everything. What did you mean by that? she’d ask. Nothing, just forget it, he’d answer. For the first time it occurred to her that he had no books in the cabin, that she’d never seen him with a book. He probably never read more than the Gazette, if that. He was still listening to Van Halen. He hadn’t even heard of Joan Armatrading.

  When she complained about the Porta Potti, he asked what was wrong with it? What was wrong with her? Was she taking her vitamins?

  “You think everything can be magically cured with vitamins?”

  “Everything but us,” he said.

  She was tempted by Abby’s invitation to join them in Barbados over Christmas, but angry at herself for behaving badly over Thanksgiving, finding fault with everything. It was probably hormonal, she decided, since she’d been premenstrual. So she went back to the Vineyard, to Bru.

  And it went well over Christmas. The two of them bundled up and walked on the beach, shopped for gifts in Vineyard Haven, made love in the late afternoon in front of the woodstove. They shared Christmas goose with Bru’s extended family—the three uncles and aunts, the twelve cousins, their significant others, their babies. All of them welcomed her into their homes, into their family. She should have felt at home. They were blue-collar, hardworking, a rowdy, beer-drinking crowd. They knew how to have a good time. They weren’t all in therapy, they weren’t all trying to find the meaning of life. They didn’t sit around comparing their dysfunctional families, blaming their parents for all their problems like her friends at Harvard. True, a few of them were already in twelve-step programs, but that meant they were trying to help themselves. Let Caitlin call their lives ordinary, even boring. This was where she belonged, wasn’t it? If she belonged anywhere.

  Phoebe

  SHE HASN’T SEEN Caity in ages, not since she caught up with her last July in Perugia. She’s glad Caity’s finally settled in Paris and that she’s going to school. She doesn’t usually admit this but she’s always wished she were better educated. One year at Stephens College didn’t do much for her.

  She’s been looking forward to their ski week together so she’s slightly miffed when, on their first night, Caity picks up a handsome young man in the bar at their inn and stays out till all hours. She doesn’t expect Caity to be a virgin but she’s taken aback by the ease with which her daughter attracts men.

  Next day, as they’re riding up in the chairlift, she decides to bring up the subject. She explains that when she was Caity’s age she’d traveled abroad, too. She
knows the score. I’m not going to tell you what to do or not to do, but you need to be discriminating. Just because men … She pauses. What is it she’s trying to say? It’s true variety is the spice of life but that doesn’t mean … Mean what? she asks herself. That Caity should follow in her footsteps? She’s still thinking about it as they reach the top.

  Thanks, Phoeb, Caity says, adjusting her goggles. I’m glad we had this talk. Then she turns and skis off.

  Well, fine … if Caity’s going to be out every night she might as well find some action herself. There’s a charming Dane in her ski group …

  Abby

  SHE’S LESS WORRIED about Vix and Bru. Whatever understanding they have, it doesn’t seem to be affecting Vix’s chance for an education, and really, that’s the most important thing, isn’t it?

  She’s relieved Caitlin has agreed to study at the Sorbonne, though she wishes she hadn’t entirely given up on Wellesley. They’re all disappointed she’s not coming home. Vix, especially, seems at a loss to understand. She’s embarrassed to admit that last June she’d overheard a phone conversation between the two girls. She should have replaced the receiver but what mother isn’t guilty of occasional lapses in respecting her children’s privacy?

  Why? Vix had asked when Caitlin gave her the news.

  Because I belong here. Except for you and Shark and Lamb there’s really no reason to come back.

  It’s time to get over her, Caitlin, Vix said.

  Who?

  Abby. Isn’t that what this is all about?

  She’d clapped her hand to her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her sharp intake of breath.

  This has nothing to do with Abby, Caitlin said.

  Then what?

  It’s complicated.

  What a relief! To know Caitlin’s decision has nothing to do with her. Not that Lamb has ever hinted … but the thought has crossed her mind.

  She has a plan to get Caitlin back, temporarily anyway. A surprise fiftieth birthday party for Lamb. Even though he claims he doesn’t want to celebrate, she’s sure he’ll love it.

  29

  CAITLIN, in a tiny black Lycra dress and thigh-high boots, her hair cut stylishly short, looking like she’d stepped out of the pages of Elle, greeted Vix outside Lamb’s house, shivering in the damp, cold, late April night air. She hugged Vix tightly, then held her away. “You look … older. Do you feel older?”

  “Yeah,” Vix said, “almost two years older.”

  “Almost two years. Has it been that long? Is that possible? Come inside. I’m freezing. I forgot how late spring can come here. In Paris …”

  Vix cut her off. “Everything’s in bloom.”

  Caitlin laughed. “It’s so good to see you! I miss you every single day of my life.”

  Vix had been a wreck, charged with nervous anticipation all day, like a child expecting the return of a long-lost parent. If Caitlin felt Vix’s cold shoulder, punishment for having abandoned her in the first place, she didn’t show it. “I have so much to tell you,” she said, “but it will have to wait until after the party. You’ll spend the night, won’t you?”

  “I didn’t bring …”

  “Never mind. I’ll give you a toothbrush. Do you still gag?”

  “Only if I stick it down my throat.”

  “I wasn’t talking about toothbrushes.”

  “I was.”

  Caitlin grabbed Vix’s arm and led her through the crowd already gathered inside the house. “Fifty guests for fifty years. Is that cute or what? Sharkey’s here and Daniel but I don’t think Gus made it. What do you think of my hair? I hate it. I’m letting it grow. Lamb doesn’t look fifty, does he?”

  Vix began to melt.

  All through the buffet supper Caitlin clung to her. “I need you tonight. Don’t desert me. This is so hard.”

  “What is?”

  “Being here. I feel like everyone’s judging me.”

  Vix couldn’t imagine who might be judging her or why Caitlin would suddenly care.

  Sharkey

  HE’S JET-LAGGED. Feels like shit. Took the red-eye from L.A. where the big guys at Cal Tech tried to convince him to do his graduate work. But M.I.T.’s after him, too. He’s going to meet with them on Monday. Until then he’s not going to make his decision.

  Abby’s asked him to make a toast to Lamb. Something short, she said. Something humorous. He’s promised to try. He’s been rehearsing it in his mind. He hates the idea of standing up in front of all those people.

  When the time comes he raises his glass of champagne. To Lamb … he says, a father who knows when to leave well enough alone. The crowd grows quiet, like he’s said something disrespectful when he meant to convey how lucky he feels that Lamb never pushed, that Lamb accepted him as he was, as he is. He was just trying to thank him, that’s all. So how come they’re all looking at him like that? Before he has the chance to figure it out Lamb is at his side, his arm around his shoulders. Thanks, Shark, he says. No father could ask for a better son!

  Then it’s Caitlin’s turn and every guy in the room is drooling. And she’s smiling at all of them, letting them think it’s a possibility. To Lamb … she says, the best man I’ve ever known. And I’ve known more than my share.

  Daniel

  AT LEAST he stands up and makes a proper toast, which is more than he can say for the bitch. Christ, you could hear the guests hold their breath when she finished, until Lamb laughed. Laughed and kissed Caitlin, telling her no father could ask for a more loving and spirited daughter. Leave it to Lamb to get out of an uncomfortable situation. He’s got to hand it to him. The guy is never at a loss. He should be running for office.

  Gus

  HE WOULD HAVE gone but he’s got a paper due Monday and on top of that his grandmother’s sick. It doesn’t look good. They’re keeping a bedside vigil. He can’t stand the idea of her suffering even though they keep telling him she’s not in pain. He and his grandmother have a special bond. He doesn’t want to lose his Baboo. And he knows how badly she wants to make it to his graduation.

  He calls during the party to wish Lamb a happy fiftieth. Just before they hang up he asks to speak to Vix.

  Hello, she says.

  Hey, Cough Drop … how’s it going?

  What? she says. There’s a lot of noise. I can’t hear you.

  Gus Kline, he shouts. Just wanted to say hello.

  Is this really Gus?

  He laughs.

  Because if it is … I can’t hear a thing.

  Never mind, he says. He’d like to see her again. He’s curious.

  AFTER THE CHAMPAGNE and cake, the poems and songs and silly gifts, Vix went upstairs with Caitlin, to the room that had always been reserved for her visits. Like Caitlin’s room on the Vineyard, Abby hadn’t touched this one either. Caitlin sat on the edge of the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. “I suppose you can tell I had an abortion.”

  Vix was stunned. “God, Caitlin, I had no idea! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Do you tell me everything?”

  Caitlin had her there. “When?” Vix asked.

  “Six weeks ago. It was a mistake. I’m still not sure how it happened. The condom broke, I think.”

  “Are you still seeing him?”

  “No. He’s married.”

  “The producer?”

  “What producer?”

  “The one who took you to the play in London?”

  “What play in London?”

  “You told me … when you called.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “It wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Well … I’ve been busy. A lot of things happen. I don’t necessarily remember all of them.”

  How come Vix remembered if Caitlin didn’t? “Did you love him?” She didn’t know why she bothered to ask when she already knew the answer.

  “No, I didn’t love him. But I enjoyed his company, in and out of bed.”

  Could she say the same about Bru? They hadn’t spent that
much time together out of bed, but in it …

  “I left the Sorbonne. I felt claustrophobic there. Everyone was so … French. It really got to me after a while. I’m better off in London, don’t you think?”

  Vix had no idea.

  Suddenly, Caitlin’s face lit up. “I’ve just had the most brilliant idea. Take junior year abroad. Wherever you decide to go, I’ll go with you.” She was dancing across the room now, singing out the names of cities. “Paris, London, Rome, there’s even a program in Grenoble.” She flopped back on the bed then rolled over to face Vix.

  Paris, London, Rome … Maia had considered spending junior year abroad but her parents urged her to wait. Paisley’s family didn’t have the money. We have fallen into genteel poverty, she’d told them, doing Scarlett O’Hara.

  “Well? …” Caitlin asked.

  “I can’t.”

  Caitlin’s mood shifted. “I’m so sick of hearing you say that!” She jumped off the bed, unzipped her dress, yanked it over her head, and dropped it on a chair. She was wearing black lace underwear, probably French. She grabbed a fuzzy robe out of the closet, way too small, left over from some visit when she was a kid, and pulled it around her.

  “You’re turning into the most negative person,” Caitlin fumed. “I can’t believe what that school is doing to you!”

  “It has nothing to do with the school. I’ve got responsibilities. I can’t just pack up and take junior year abroad because it’s a nice idea!”

  “What responsibilities … the scholarship?”

  “More than that.”

  “Don’t tell me …” Caitlin sounded thoroughly disgusted. “You’re tied down already and you’re not even twenty!” She sat back on the bed and worked off her boots, easing them down from thigh to ankle.

  “I’m not tied down,” Vix said.

  “Oh, please …” She kicked off one boot, then the other. “He needs you more than you need him. Where is he, anyway? How come he’s not here tonight?”