“A lot of yous in that sentence, Mom,” Jamie said, and Renee cracked up.
“I’m going to go do some sit-ups before they get here,” Renee said, sliding off her stool.
“Don’t you dare exercise because a movie star is coming over!” Betty called after her. “You’re perfect!”
The doorbell rang and Jamie and her mother froze up, looking at each other.
“Jesus Christ, they’re early,” Betty said.
Rosa wiped her hands on her apron and headed out of the kitchen to answer the door.
“No!” Betty stopped her. “I don’t want them thinking we have some white hierarchy thing going on in this house. You take care of the kitchen and I’ll get the door.” Jamie followed her mother to the door and stood right beside her as she opened it. A long-faced man and a beautiful brown-haired, blue-eyed woman stood on the porch.
“Betty?” the woman asked. “I’m Veronica.” Betty shook Veronica Hale’s and John Krane’s hands and invited them in without introducing Jamie. John and Veronica each carried a soft leather duffel bag, which they dumped on the entrance hall floor.
“Tell Jesus to take their bags up to the guest room,” Betty whispered to Jamie.
“But he’s Mexican. Shouldn’t a white person take them up?” Jamie asked, in earnest.
“Just go get him!” Betty hissed, then rushed over to John and Veronica, who were wandering the living room looking at the paintings.
Jamie helped Jesus take the bags up. There was a fat bouquet of yellow roses on the dresser in the guest room. Betty had never put flowers in the guest room for anyone, not even her best friend from college, not even the president of a company Allen was consulting for, not even her own sister. But for Veronica Hale, flowers were everywhere.
When Jamie came downstairs, Betty, Veronica Hale, and John Krane were standing by the pool. Jamie sat on a boulder and watched her mother rigidly gesturing as she chatted with the couple. Allen came home from the store and joined them, and suddenly everyone, especially Betty, seemed more relaxed. Veronica told Betty and Allen that she loved the pool, she loved the boulders, she loved the landscaping.
“There’s a eucalyptus grove way back there,” Jamie said, “and there’s a trampoline on the lawn.”
“You have a trampoline?” Veronica asked Jamie.
“Yeah, down the hill,” Jamie said.
“I love trampolines,” Veronica said.
Veronica Hale pointed her toes and lifted her arms like a ballerina when she jumped. She was in blue jeans and a puffy-sleeved Mexican peasant blouse that billowed out each time she went up. Jamie jumped with Veronica, facing her, watching her. Veronica didn’t talk or look down at Jamie; she simply jumped in a rhythm, staring off into the distance. Jamie felt like she was jumping by herself while watching a movie of Veronica Hale on a trampoline. She wondered if the only way to endure public life as a movie star was to create invisible walls between yourself and everyone around you. Veronica Hale seemed supremely alone, safely separated from Jamie and anyone else who might approach.
While John Krane and Veronica Hale were in the guest room showering and changing, Betty, Allen, Renee, and Jamie huddled together in the backyard.
“I think she’s too skinny,” Betty said. “I mean, she’s had two children—she doesn’t look normal.”
“Lois is skinnier than she is,” Jamie said.
“Lois never had kids,” Betty said.
“She looks fine,” Allen said. “She seems wonderful.”
“Oh, of course she’s wonderful to you! Why wouldn’t she be wonderful to you? I bet that yellow-aura penis of yours just loves her!”
“Mom!” Renee said. “Don’t talk about Dad’s penis in front of us!”
Rosa came out to the backyard.
“Miss Betty,” she said, “the Chumash are here, but I think you’ve been duped! That lady in there is no Chumash; she’s a Mexican!”
“How do you know?” Allen asked.
“I know my own people,” Rosa said, “just like you’d know yours.”
“But Chumash, Mexican, they look pretty similar, don’t you think?”
“No,” Rosa said.
“Is it the people who did the food at the aura reading?” Jamie asked.
“Yes,” Betty said. “They’re Chumash and they’re fabulous. Chumash wouldn’t lie about being Chumash.”
“Yes, but a chola might lie,” Rosa said.
“What’s a chola?” Allen asked.
“Mexican American!” Rosa said. “They lie all the time.”
“How can you say that about your people?!” Betty said.
“One’s people is all that we have in this life!”
“That lady is Mexican,” Jamie said. “She told me the last time they were here. Her boyfriend is Chumash.”
“Well, one Chumash is fine!” Betty seemed near tears.
“Just leave them alone and let them cook!”
“Okay, okay,” Rosa said. “It’s your Veronica Hale party, not mine.”
“Jamie probably knows more about the Chumash than that Mexican lady in there,” Renee said.
“I probably do,” Jamie said. “Did you know that the Chumash believe in four celestial gods?”
“We know, dear, you’ve told us,” Betty said. “Now go get ready for the party.”
Debbie and Tammy appeared just as the party was starting. Jamie vacillated between regretting having invited them and being glad to have them witness Veronica Hale hanging out with her parents and their friends. What she really hoped, however, was that somehow, in the absence of their boyfriends, she and Debbie and Tammy would fall into place together and things would be giddy and wonderful the way they had been at the beginning of the summer.
Tammy’s father walked into the kitchen with Tammy and Debbie. He glanced out the glass doors toward the pool. It was clear he was hoping to see Veronica Hale.
“This thing black tie?” Mr. Hopkins never looked at Tammy’s friends when he spoke to them; it was as if he were avoiding something in their faces.
“I don’t think so,” Jamie said. “Veronica Hale’s wearing a long flowery skirt and a green blouse that’s tied up at her waist.”
“Tied up at her waist?!” Tammy asked. Tammy was in tight, red pants with a red-and-yellow-striped cap-sleeved shirt.
“Yeah, you know, in a big knot.”
“Can you see her belly button?” Debbie asked. Debbie was in Chemin de Fer sailor jeans and a gauzy button-front blouse. She untucked the blouse and tied it around her waist. Jamie was in shorts and a T-shirt. It hadn’t occurred to her to dress for the party and it was entirely unlike her parents to either note what their daughters wore or direct their choice in clothing.
“So Hanoi Hale’s here,” Tammy’s dad said. “I got a thing or two I’d like to tell her.”
“The party’s a fund-raiser for her husband,” Jamie said.
“You know, my brother fought in Nam.” Tammy’s dad nodded his head as spoke, as if he were physically working up to something. “And my father fought in World War Two. Tammy comes from a long line of good American soldiers.”
“How’s this?” Debbie asked, showing her tied-up shirt.
“I wouldn’t let that woman in my house to clean the toilets,” Tammy’s dad said.
The Chumash man at the stove stared at Mr. Hopkins with dark, hard eyes.
“Do you think I should change into a blouse?” Tammy asked.
“You look fine,” Jamie said, “and the party’s already starting.”
“Don’t you girls listen to any of her mumbo jumbo now, you hear?” Tammy’s dad ambled toward the door, his giant belly leading the way.
Tammy waved to her father as he walked out.
“See you, Mr. Hopkins!” Debbie called after him.
“My dad hates Democrats,” Tammy said. “He told me they’re ruining the country, giving away all the money to lazy people and stuff like that.”
There was a wooden clanking as the Chumash
man knocked his spoon against the side of his pot while watching Tammy as if she were a bobcat.
“Can we please call Jimmy and Brett and let them come to the party?” Debbie asked. “I mean, there are so many people here, no one would notice them.”
“No way,” Jamie said. “Mom said if we hang around we have to help, pass out food and stuff.” Betty had told Jamie that she’d have to help out, but Jamie knew she wouldn’t have minded having the boys around too. Jamie didn’t want them there because they would have wedged Tammy and Debbie even farther from her; Jamie would be left alone, knocking around the party like a single marble loosed from its bag.
“You girls ready to work?” Rosa pointed to three silver trays on the counter, each with a different appetizer.
“What are these?” Tammy sneered. “They look like slugs on crackers!”
“Go on!” Rosa clapped her hands to move the girls along.
Tammy and Debbie hovered in the vicinity of Veronica Hale. Jamie stood with her back to them, half-listening to an old man with a folded, melted face who talked to her with fishy breath.
Veronica said, “Girls, I won’t be having any appetizers at all this evening, so you can stop offering them to me.” Tammy and Debbie hurried off, giggling, to the other side of the pool. Jamie was embarrassed for them.
Betty stood with a cluster of women. Jamie came up behind her and tapped her mother’s back.
“What, sweetheart?”
“Anyone want some of these?”
“No, honey. Everyone’s had some. Take them over there.” Betty paused before turning away; she had just spied Allen talking to Veronica Hale. They were too far away to be heard, but Allen’s hands flapped enthusiastically as he gestured. Veronica seemed enraptured; she leaned back laughing, then put a hand on Allen’s upper arm as she replied.
“Tell your father he needs to man the bar,” Betty said.
“Jesus is at the bar,” Jamie said.
Betty looked toward the bar, where Jesus was pouring out cherry-colored margaritas into a row of tall, wide glasses.
“Well, tell him to check on the food.”
“I was just in there, everything’s fine. Rosa and the non-Chumash Mexican lady are talking to each other in really fast Spanish.”
“Christ, Jamie! Tell your father to mingle, tell him it’s a big party and he needs to acknowledge more than one guest!”
Jamie wondered what it would be like to love someone as long as her parents had loved each other—to want to be, after so many years, the world’s most beautiful woman in your husband’s eyes. She had been with Flip for less than a summer—not enough time to ever feel an ownership of his love. And Scooter Ray had lasted for, what, an hour? Not even long enough to develop a jealousy.
Jamie wandered to the far side of the pool where Tammy and Debbie nestled together, their empty trays hanging at their sides.
“Did you see him?” Tammy asked.
“Who?”
“The cute one,” Debbie said. “He is so, so, so cute.”
“I tap-tapped him,” Tammy said.
“Yeah,” Debbie said, “can you believe she tap-tapped him, as if I’m going to try and compete with her.”
“What do you mean you tap-tapped him?”
“She dibsed him,” Debbie said.
“You put dibs on a man?”
“Yeah,” Tammy said, “or you or Debbie would try to get him first. Do you think your parents would mind if I smoked? I’m dying for a cig.”
“There’s no way a grown man would be interested in any of us,” Jamie said. “I mean, Veronica Hale’s here!”
“You don’t even know who we’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jamie said. “There’s no one here who would want us. You don’t have to put dibs on some random cute man.”
“Of course he’d want us!” Debbie said. “We’re young and juicy!”
“God, if I don’t have a cigarette soon I’m going to explode. Seriously.”
“What about your boyfriends?” Jamie said. “You’re the one who’s always talking about morals. You’re the one who was mad at me for having sex with Scooter Ray!”
“Well, that was very un-Christian of you! You know that!” Tammy said.
“Oh my god, shut up, shut up, here he comes!” Debbie pulled her tray in front of her chest like a shield.
The man was cute in the same way a Ken doll is cute. He had eyelashes like a woman: long, dark, and thick. There were white marks, like a drawing of sun rays, darting out from around his eyes; it seemed he’d been tanned while squinting. He was tall with a flat, broad body, younger-looking than Jamie’s parents. And he was staring at Jamie.
“Mmm, can I have one of those?”
Jamie pushed her tray toward him. Tammy and Debbie were silent, watching. Tammy was breathing with her mouth hanging open in a wide O; Jamie looked at her, waiting for her to speak, as she had always been the one who was bold enough to talk to boys and men.
“That’s good,” he said. “Did you make these?”
“No. Chumash people made them.” Jamie shot her eyes toward Tammy, begging her to start talking so Jamie wouldn’t have to.
“Chumash, huh.”
“Her parents always hire Chumash Indians to cater their parties,” Tammy finally blurted.
“Oooh,” he said, still staring at Jamie, “you’re Allen and Betty’s daughter. Are you Renee?”
“I’m Jamie.” She wanted him to stop staring. His gaze made her skin prickle, like he was shooting hot sparks from his eyes.
“Are you the older one or the younger one?”
“The younger one, I guess,” Jamie said.
“You guess?” he said. “You don’t know how old you are?”
“No,” Jamie panted. Tammy and Debbie laughed with goofy little hiccups. “I’m definitely younger than my sister.” Jamie looked toward Tammy again.
“She’s younger,” Tammy said. “I can confirm that. By the way, do you have an extra cigarette?”
“I don’t smoke,” the man said, “and you shouldn’t either.”
“I do a lot of things I shouldn’t do,” Tammy said, and she and Debbie cackled and fell against each other.
“Well, Jamie, we’ll have to talk again later.” The man winked at Jamie, then walked away, skimming through the crowd like a shark in shallow water.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Tammy said.
“Did what?” Jamie asked.
“I tap-tapped him. I put dibs on him. And then you snake him out from underneath me!”
“I passed some food to him! I didn’t want to talk to him!”
“She did tap-tap him,” Debbie said, “and you can’t say you didn’t know that.”
“I’m not interested in that guy. He’s gross. He’s a perv.” Jamie felt her throat quivering. Then, like in the opening credits of Get Smart, Jamie imagined a wall sliding shut between herself and Debbie.
“Oh, right, so since I like him he’s a perv?” Tammy faced Jamie, her hands on either hip, the empty tray dangling from one fist.
Jamie felt another wall slide shut in front Tammy.
“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” she said. “That guy came over here and ate something off my tray. He knows my parents, he asked about me. I’m not about to go off and sleep with him.”
“You say that as if you’ve never gone off and just slept with some guy.”
An imaginary ceiling panel slid above Jamie’s head.
“You told us yourself about Scooter Ray,” Debbie said.
A third wall came down with a thud.
“I was drunk! I honestly forgot about Kim, okay?!” Jamie felt she had to raise her voice for them to hear through the walls.
“You know, ever since that baby died, you’ve changed,” Tammy said. “And Debbie and I wanted to, like, forgive you, you know, let it go because we were hoping you’d come back to normal, you know, but you just haven’t. You’re a different person. You t
hink you’re a Christian but you clearly aren’t—”
And the fourth wall closed in. Jamie felt boxed away from them, in a different orbit.
“I don’t think I’m a Christian,” she said.
“It’s not even the Christian thing,” Debbie said, and she tried to smile. “It’s just that you used to be so much fun. I mean, like, we had fun together and now it’s like you don’t even know how to have fun anymore. You’re so serious all the time.”
“And you’re not interested in the same things,” Tammy said. “I mean you used to want to hang out with the surfers, you wanted to relax on the beach and have fun, and now . . .I mean, you show up at the beach one night and you sleep with Scooter Ray? Like, what were you thinking?” Their voices sounded tinny and hollow, like they were yammering through aluminum pipes.
“Kim found out,” Debbie said. “And Tammy and I promised her we’d never talk to you again, you know, out of loyalty to her—”
“Loyalty to her?” Jamie said, her voice echoing in her head.
“Listen, you haven’t been around!” Tammy said. “Kim is one of our best friends, I mean, we can’t even tell her that we’re here tonight, it will break her heart.”
“How did she find out about me and Scooter Ray?” Jamie asked. It was her final question, the last thing she’d push through the walls to them.
“You’ve gotta understand,” Debbie said. “Kim is with us at the beach, all day, every day. Our boyfriends are best friends. She’s part of our group! We can’t not tell her. I mean, when you were in our group you would have wanted us to tell you, right?”
Jamie could no longer speak, yet there was a way in which she felt powerful and strong. She sensed herself as supremely alone, like Veronica Hale on the trampoline.
“I think it’s just easier for all of us if we’re officially not friends anymore,” Tammy said, speaking more gently. “I mean, we’re not interested in any of the same things, our values don’t match.”
The Summer of Naked Swim Parties Page 23