Summer Girls, Love Boys

by Norma Fox Mazer

  The service for Mrs. DeAngelo at Meekham’s Funeral Home was crowded with kids who had graduated with Jimmy the previous year and with neighbors. Jimmy’s older brother, a skinny man wearing glasses and a frown, had flown in from California.

  All through the service Jimmy cried. Afterward everyone went up to him and said something. When Bibi’s turn came, she said, “Geez, Jimmy, I’m sorry for your loss,” and she squeezed his hand. He looked at her with wet black eyes. What a face, she thought, a little ashamed to be so frivolous on such a sad occasion. To make up for it, she squeezed his hand harder and said, “Don’t you worry, Jimmy, you got lots of friends.”

  “Thanks, Bibi,” he said, “but nobody could be a friend like my mother.” And again his eyes filled. It just about broke Bibi’s heart, the same way she used to feel when Celia’s eyes blurred with tears.

  A few days later, passing Jimmy’s house on the way home from school, Bibi thought, If Celia was here we’d go right in and cheer up Jimmy, tell him some jokes or things. She’d heard Zenetta talking to her mother, saying how Jimmy hadn’t set foot outside his house since the funeral. “I wonder what will become of the poor boy,” Zenetta said. “How can he get along on his own? You know, his mother did everything for him.”

  Bibi kept walking, but now that she’d started thinking about Jimmy she couldn’t stop. Felt sorry for him and, well, something else, too. Wasn’t she the only one who could ever stop Celia from crying? Cheer her up? Make her laugh? Bibi had a funny thought, then. God made some people like Jimmy and Celia—so beautiful you didn’t want to stop looking at them. And then He made some people like her—monkey-faces. Maybe it was all for a good reason—like the monkeyfaces had to be matched up with the angel-faces.

  The next day she walked right up the narrow walk to the DeAngelos’ front door and knocked, loud and cheerful. After a couple of minutes Jimmy opened the door. At first Bibi was scared he didn’t recognize her. Then he said, “Oh, Bibi. Hello.” He looked bad, stains on his shirt and his beard growing in, in patches.

  “Hey, can I do anything to help you out?” Bibi said.

  “What?” Jimmy was smoking and he had a dazed look.

  Bibi glanced past him into the house. What a mess. Clothes all over—she saw a pair of dirty socks right on the table—crusty dishes on the windowsill and the floor, dustballs everywhere, and the whole house didn’t smell too good.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” she said, “your mother didn’t keep house like this, I bet. Let me help you clean up a little.” She walked right in, almost laughing when she thought that Celia always did say she had all the nerve.

  Jimmy sank down into a chair and stared as Bibi started picking up stuff. She piled dishes in the sink, dumped cigarette butts into the garbage, swept the floor, and opened a window to air out the place. “How about picking up your clothes, Jimmy?” she said. “Put them in the hamper or something.” He nodded and got up. “What’d you eat today?” she asked. Except for sour milk and a piece of moldy salami, the refrigerator was empty. In the cupboard Bibi found a can of clam chowder, heated it, and cooked a pot of noodles.

  “Come on, sit down.” She poured the soup into a bowl and set the buttered noodles in front of Jimmy. “Dig in,” she said, sitting down opposite him. “You gotta eat, Jimmy.” Her tone was frank and friendly, just the way she’d always talked to Celia. Jimmy just sat there, looking like he was a war victim.

  “I guess you miss her a lot,” Bibi said.

  “You want to know something? The morning she went out—to check the car? She left me a glass of fresh orange juice. Not the frozen kind, she never used that. She squeezed it fresh for me, every morning, before she did anything else.”

  “She took good care of you,” Bibi said.

  “She understood me,” he said. “It wasn’t just the orange juice. She always understood me. And now I’m so ashamed.” His eyes watered.

  “Hey,” Bibi said, “you got nothing to be ashamed of, Jimmy. You were a good son.”

  “No,” he said. “I never told her how much I loved her.”

  A couple of days later Bibi went over again, cleaned up things, and cooked Jimmy a meal. She got into the habit of dropping in after school, cooking supper, then sitting around talking to Jimmy about his mother and work. Just before his mother died, Jimmy had been laid off his job in Highgate Motor Sales. “They said I was one of the best salesmen they ever had, Bibi.”

  “I believe that, Jimmy.”

  “But they had to lay off someone, and I was low man on the totem pole.”

  “You’ll get another job, Jimmy.”

  “That was a good job, wish I had that one again.”

  “Maybe they’ll call you back. I bet they will!”

  Sometimes they played cards or watched TV. One thing Jimmy especially liked was when Bibi read the newspaper to him while he ate supper. His mother used to do that. They’d laugh over Ann Landers, check out the letters to the editor, and talk about which movies were playing.

  Jimmy was looking better, shaved, and wearing clean jeans and one of his V-necked wool sweaters when Bibi came over. Sometimes she ate supper with him. He always asked her, but usually she refused, because her mother expected her for supper, too. All day in school Bibi would plan what she was going to cook for Jimmy and think about the things they’d talk about. It made the dull hours pass and helped her forget how much she still missed Celia.

  Bibi was a good cook. She’d been standing at Marie’s elbow in the kitchen since she was a little girl. Jimmy went crazy over the way she cooked chicken with pineapple juice and tarragon. “Not to be disrespectful to my mother,” he said one day, “but you beat her at cooking, hands down.”

  “Hey, I gotta do something good to make up for this mug,” Bibi said.

  “Looks don’t matter,” he said, and he gave her a hug.

  “They don’t matter if you got ’em,” she said with a big laugh. Jimmy still had his arm around her waist. “Jimmy, you remember when those kids put that sign on me at the Halloween Fair? ‘I’m a dog, bark if you agree.’”

  “I don’t remember that,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, I do,” Bibi said.

  That night she wrote Celia a letter. “Ain’t life funny? You in Alaska, and me friends with De Angel. If you were here, it would be perfect.”

  A few days later, when she walked into Jimmy’s house, she found him lying on the couch, feeling bad. “I got to thinking about my mother.” Bibi patted his face and his head. “Jimmy, you’re gonna be okay. Listen, Jimmy, she’s in Heaven now.” She made him get up and wash his face, while she cooked supper for him. She’d brought a pint of his favorite French vanilla ice cream.

  Later, it came out that he was blue for another reason, too. No money. The rent was due. The Caddy people were coming to take away the car. He’d already missed two payments.

  “Do you think your brother would help you?”

  “He doesn’t care if he never sees me again. Lucky he came for my mother’s funeral. I need a job, Bibi.” For a couple weeks now, Jimmy had been looking for work.

  “No luck today?” Bibi said. “Where’d you go?”

  “McPharry’s, that furniture place on the boulevard.”

  “You’d be some good furniture salesman, Jimmy.”

  “I wouldn’t mind selling furniture at all.”

  “Maybe I can help you out,” Bibi said. “I got money saved from the summer—”

  “I couldn’t take your money.”

  “Sure, you could. It’s just sitting in the bank. You can pay me back when you get a job.”

  “Bibi, you’re the best,” Jimmy said, and he got up and hugged her and told her she was the only person left who cared about him. And before you know it, he was kissing her.

  Geez! Bibi thought, I’m in heaven! And remembering how she and Celia used to play kissing De Angel, she couldn’t help laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Jimmy said. “Don’t you like the way I kiss?”

  Bibi could
see he was getting upset. “I got a fault of always laughing at the wrong time,” she said. “The way you kiss, it’s heaven.”

  Then they kissed some more, and when they stopped to get their breath, Jimmy said, “Bibi, let’s get married. I want to get married to you. You’re the nicest girl I know.”

  Bibi couldn’t even speak, just nodded okay. And they kissed again on the cheeks and on the mouth, and they were hugging and kissing so hard they lost their balance and fell down on the floor. And then they were both laughing something awful, and Bibi knew she’d never been so happy.

  Going home, she was still in a daze. Me and Jimmy De Angel! But at home, when she looked in her mirror, she got sober fast. No, oh, no, this couldn’t be De Angel’s future wife. She didn’t feel sorry for herself, just saw that she was what she was. Loved De Angel too much to think of him marrying Bibi Bow Wow.

  She went there the next day as usual, cleaned up, and cooked a Spanish omelet and Pillsbury biscuits, and happened to notice one thing about Jimmy’s manners. He used his biscuit to wipe up his plate. “When should we get married?” he said.

  Bibi had planned all day what to say. “Jimmy, you don’t have to do that. I release you,” she said, a bit grandly. (She had heard that on TV.)

  “You don’t want to?” he said, his fork freezing in the air.

  “Just because you said it yesterday, I ain’t going to hold you to it, Jimmy.”

  “You don’t want to?” he said again.

  “Oh, I want to.”

  “Well, so do I,” he said.

  Her mother didn’t want to give permission. She said Bibi should wait until she was eighteen. “You don’t want to have a baby so young, honey.”

  “I’ll wait for the baby,” Bibi said. And she thought how pretty Jimmy’s babies would be.

  “Well, does he love you?” Marie said.

  “Hey, you think no one could love this face?”

  “Now, I didn’t say that, Bibi!”

  They were still going at it when Zenetta came in, put her big red arms down on the table, and said, “Bibi, you know I love you like a mother, so don’t take me wrong, but Jimmy DeAngelo could have any girl in the world. So, why you?”

  “Why Bibi?” Marie slapped her hand on the table. “Because the boy loves her, that’s why. Bibi, you want the wedding right here in our house?”

  After that, Jimmy brought over his clothes and his mother’s double bed and this and that, and they moved everything into Bibi’s room. It was December then, and they went to church one Saturday afternoon and got married. Her mother cried, but Jimmy winked at Bibi and she wanted to laugh, even though it was a solemn occasion. She had a new yellow dress and a bouquet of tea roses. Mrs. Lillian was there, Zenetta, the neighbors who always sang—almost all the same people who had gone to Mrs. DeAngelo’s funeral. Her grandfather’s legs were feeling weak, so he didn’t come, but when they got home, he gave Bibi ten silver dollars and said, “You’re a good girl, Bibi. I wish you all the luck.”

  In January, Bibi quit school and took her job in K mart full time. Marie didn’t want her to do that, but Bibi couldn’t see freeloading off her mother. Every week she gave her mother room and board money, took some for herself, and gave Jimmy the rest so he’d feel good. He hadn’t found a job yet.

  Celia wrote her a letter. “I still can’t believe I’m looking at your wedding picture. I guess we were silly kids—remember our vows and stuff? Maybe I’ll go to college. I haven’t made up my mind.”

  Every morning Bibi and her mother ate breakfast together and left for work together, and every night they came home about the same time and made supper, taking turns with the cooking, now that Bibi was a real married woman. Then, when everything was ready, they’d call Jimmy and Grandpa and they’d all sit down together. Jimmy smiled at Marie, asked about work, and said how good the food was. Marie wouldn’t want to smile back, Bibi could see that, but she nearly always did. After supper the two women did the dishes and ironed and folded clothes while, in the front room, Jimmy talked to the grandfather.

  And later, in their bedroom, he and Bibi would tell each other everything they’d done that day. For Bibi, that was the best part of every day except sometimes, in the morning, when she’d wake up, look at Jimmy sleeping next to her, and think, This is Jimmy De Angel, he’s my real husband now.

  Zenetta came over to visit, brought a bag of sweet rolls. “How’s the old married lady?” Some girls from school came into K mart. “Geez, Bibi, never thought you’d get married so soon. Isn’t it something, you being married to Jimmy DeAngelo.”

  “Being married is great,” Bibi said, flashing her wedding ring. “You oughta try it.”

  But there were little problems. Hard to find enough time to do everything. Sometimes she got real tired. And Jimmy was still out of work. He missed having a car, too. They talked it over, decided to save money for a down payment on a car—not a Caddy. One of the economy cars, maybe a K Car. They saved their money in a Paul deLima coffee can. They liked to count it together, see how close they were coming to having the down payment. Jimmy studied the auto magazines so they’d be sure to get the best buy.

  “Well,” Marie said one night when she and Bibi were doing the dishes, “it’s nice having a man around the house. I admit it. And Jimmy’s a nice boy, even Zenetta admits he’s settled down.”

  Things were going good, and then it seemed as if they got to the top of a hill and just naturally had to slide down. Bibi wasn’t surprised. All along she’d been waiting for that slide. Jimmy picked up an ear infection, he was sick for a couple weeks, and the doctor bills were awful. No money went into the Paul deLima can. Jimmy was cranky all the time he was sick and, even when he got better, didn’t get into a good mood. He didn’t want to talk, watch TV, or even go out and have a beer. Sometimes he’d lie on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, and not saying anything for hours. It spooked Bibi.

  “You two fighting already?” Marie said.

  “No fights,” Bibi said. That was true. Jimmy didn’t like fighting, he was never nasty or mean, just said, “Leave me alone.” Bibi wished he would fight. She knew more about that than “Leave me alone.”

  It was February, and instead of snow they had rain every day; the whole city was gray, and mildew got into the bathroom and on the kitchen walls. Jimmy hated the weather and stayed in all day.

  One night Bibi and Marie were scrubbing the bathroom. “You think your husband is going to get a job?” Marie said.

  “Yeah, he will,” Bibi said. “He’s had tough luck.”

  “Luck’s not going to get any better if he just lies around reading dirty magazines all day.”

  “Leave him alone,” Bibi said.

  “I don’t touch him. I’m just reporting what Grandpa says.”

  “Grandpa is an old man.” Bibi wrung out a rag.

  “Don’t be disrespectful. Jimmy’s not looking for a job. He’s letting you work, period. He’s found himself a soft berth, my girl. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Bibi bent over the tub, scrubbing at one spot. “He’s still feeling bad from his ear infection.” Her heart pounded, she was scrubbing so hard. That spot wouldn’t come out. She scrubbed harder.

  “You’re making excuses for that boy.”

  “I don’t want to hear no more!” She flung down the rag and went to her room. Jimmy was lying on the bed, reading a magazine. She stood at the foot of the bed. “Hello.” Jimmy didn’t say anything, just lay there in his green flannel pj bottom, showing his smooth chest, looking handsome and sad.

  Bibi held up the new pink nightie she’d bought on her lunch hour. So pretty she couldn’t resist it. “Like my new nightie?” She shook his arm. “Jimmy!”

  “How much did it cost?”

  “Me to know, you to guess.”

  “Ten bucks.” She shook her head. “Twenty?”

  “Getting close.”

  “More?” He pushed himself up against the pillow. “Now we won’t have a
nything to put in the coffee can again.”

  “Well, I wanted something pretty. I work all week and I wanted something pretty for myself.” And then, unable to resist, she added, “You want to put money in the coffee can, get a job.”

  He flushed. “So you wanted something pretty. Is that it?”

  “Yeah,” she said, recognizing the challenge, “want to make something of it?” And she didn’t even care that she’d given him that dig about a job, because fighting at least made him talk.

  “You wanted something pretty?” he said again. And he smiled, showing his teeth.

  “What’s so funny?” Bibi said. “Must be really funny to get a smile out of you.”

  “Yeah, it’s funny.” He pointed to the nightgown, then to her and said, “Bibi Bow Wow.” He said something else, too. But Bibi didn’t hear the something else. She went right into a daze, just like the day he asked her to marry him, couldn’t speak, and fell back against the pillow. Didn’t say anything. Not a word. Hardly breathed.

  “Bibi?” he said. “Say hey, what’s the matter, Bibi?” Still couldn’t speak. “Hey, Bibi.” A look in his eyes now, as if he was scared. “It was just a joke,” he said. He closed his hand around her arm. “It was just something to say. You’re not taking it serious, are you?”

  And still Bibi couldn’t speak. Oh, the pain she felt, something pressing behind her ribs, the worst, most awful pain she’d ever felt, worse even than when Celia left her. She raised her hand, opened her mouth to speak, let her hand drop. And a tear fell from one eye.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Jimmy bent over her. “Bibi, hey! Hey, Bibi, I love you.”

  Then she looked at him, her beautiful husband, her Jimmy De Angel with the long lashes. “I love you, too,” she said, and she kissed him on the shoulder. And then, right where she kissed him, she bit him, bit so hard she broke his skin.