Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

by Ann Brashares

  She realized once she was out on the sidewalk that it was almost midnight and she was still wearing her pajama top. Who at the hospital would let her in to see Bailey at midnight? Didn't visiting hours end by eight?

  She backtracked and got her bike from the open garage. She didn't have very much time. Bailey was afraid of time.

  She raced through the streets. The traffic lights on Wisconsin Avenue were flashing yellow.

  The regular entrance to the hospital was mostly dark, but the emergency entrance was alight. Tibby walked in and past the assortment of miserable people in plastic chairs. Even emergencies grew boring after people waited for a few hours in this place.

  Luckily the woman in the reception box had her head tilted down. Tibby walked right by. She struck out for an elevator.

  “Can I help you?” a passing nurse asked her.

  “I'm, uh, finding my, uh, mom.” Tibby lied badly. She kept walking. The nurse didn't come after her. She took fire stairs up to the main floor, hovered in the stairwell until the coast was completely clear, then sped to the elevator.

  There was a tired-looking doctor in the elevator. Tibby rummaged around her brain for excuses, until she realized he really didn't care what she was doing. Obviously he had better things to think about than hospital security.

  She got off at the fourth floor and immediately ducked into a doorway. The floor was very quiet. The reception area was to the left, but a sign indicated that room 448 was to the right. There was a nurses' station farther down the hall to the right. She barely breathed as she moved along the wall like a spider. Thank goodness, room 448 was close. The door was partially open. She slipped inside.

  She stalled in the little vestibule. From there she could see Jay Leno up on the ceiling-mounted TV doing his shtick in silence. She could see no parents in the chairs by the windows. She had to make herself go in.

  She was afraid she would see a different Bailey, a leftover Bailey. But the girl sleeping in the bed was the same as the girl she knew. Only she had tubes sticking out of her wrist and a tube in her nose. Tibby heard a high-pitched little gasp escape her own throat. There was more emotion bubbling around in there than she could hold back.

  Bailey was so tiny under the covers. Tibby saw the flutter of pulse at her neck. Gently Tibby reached for Bailey's hand. It was made of bird bones. “Hi, Bailey, it's me,” she whispered. “The girl from Wallman's.”

  Bailey was so small there was enough extra room for Tibby to sit on the bed next to her. Bailey's eyes stayed shut. Tibby brought Bailey's hand to her chest and held it there. When her own eyelids started to droop, she lay back gingerly, resting her head on the pillow next to Bailey's. She felt the soft tickle of Bailey's hair against her cheek. Tears slipped out of her eyes and went sideways into her ears and onto Bailey's hair. She hoped that was okay.

  She would just stay here holding Bailey's hand for all time, so Bailey wouldn't be afraid that there wasn't enough of it.

  That night was the celebration of Koimisis tis Theotokou, the Assumption of the Virgin. It was the biggest Greek Orthodox holiday after Easter. Both Lena and Effie joined their grandparents in the small, plain, lovely church for the liturgy. Afterward there was a small parade, and then the whole town got busy eating and drinking.

  Grandma was on the dessert committee, so she and Effie made dozens of trays of baklava with every conceivable kind of nut in the filling for the delicate pastries. Grandma had intensified Effie's training now that the summer was almost at an end.

  Lena had one glass of strong, rough-tasting red wine, and it made her feel tired and sad. She went up to her room and sat by her window in the dark, where she could watch the festivities from a bit of a distance. This was the way she liked to enjoy a party.

  Down on the sidewalk and in the little plaza a few yards down from Kostos's house, the celebration became more boisterous after sunset. The men drank loads of ouzo and got very expansive once the music began. Even Bapi wore a big, silly smile.

  Effie drank a few glasses of wine herself. There was no official drinking age in Greece. In fact, even their grandparents pushed wine on Effie and Lena on special occasions, which probably made Effie much less interested in drinking than she would have been otherwise. Tonight, though, Effie was flushed and exuberant. Lena watched her sister dance to a few songs with Andreas the waiter and then sneak off into an alleyway with him. Lena wasn't worried. Effie was carbonated, but under that she was possibly the most sensible person Lena knew. Effie adored boys, but even at fourteen, she didn't abandon herself for them.

  Oia, tonight, had two equally vivid full moons, one in the sky and one in the sea. If Lena hadn't known better, she wouldn't have been able to pick the original.

  In the moonlight she saw Kostos's face. He didn't notice Lena's absence or care. She felt sure of it.

  I wish you cared, Lena told him telepathically, and then wanted to take it back.

  She watched Kostos approach her grandmother. On her tiptoes, Valia hugged him and kissed him so hard, Lena wondered if she might strangle him. Kostos looked joyful. He whispered something in Valia's ear that made her smile. Then they began dancing.

  Dinky, small-town fireworks erupted from the plaza. In a way, those were the most awe-inspiring kind, Lena decided with a tiny chill. Unlike the Disney World variety, these homemade ones had a sweet crudeness you could respond to. They showed the effort and the danger, while more polished presentations hid it.

  Kostos spun Grandma around. Laughing, she managed to keep her feet under her. He ended the song with a dramatic dip, bending Grandma practically in two. Lena had never seen her grandmother look so happy.

  Lena studied the faces of the girls on the sidelines. She could tell that Kostos owned the lust of what few local teenage girls there were in Oia, but instead he chose to dance with all the grandmothers, all the women who had raised him, who had poured into him the love they couldn't spend on their own absent children and grandchildren. It was just a poignant fact of island life that whole generations left to set up real lives in other places.

  Lena let the tears dribble past her chin and down her neck. She wasn't exactly sure what she was crying for.

  Even after the late hour at which the party ended, Lena couldn't sleep. She sat by her window watching the moon. She waited for breezes to feather the edges of the sea-moon. She imagined all the happy inhabitants of Oia falling into deep, drunken sleep.

  But as she craned a little out the window, she recognized another pair of elbows in the far window of the second floor. They were Bapi's wrinkly elbows. He was sitting at his window, staring at the moons, just like she was.

  She smiled, both inside and out. She'd learned one thing in Santorini. She wasn't like either of her parents or her sister, but she was just like her Bapi—proud, silent, fearful. Lucky for Bapi, he had found the courage once in his life to seize a chance at love from a person who knew how to give it.

  Lena prayed on these two moons that she would find that same courage.

  Lena slept in the next morning. Well, she didn't sleep in. She stayed in bed hours after she woke, because she couldn't figure out what to do with herself. She was fitful, both energized and apathetic.

  Effie ended the morning when she banged in, needing to raid Lena's closet for something or other. “What's the matter with you?” Effie asked over her shoulder while rummaging shamelessly through Lena's things.

  “I'm tired,” Lena claimed.

  Effie looked suspicious.

  “How was last night?” Lena asked to deflect attention.

  Effie's eyes brightened. “It was unbelievably great,” she gushed. “Andreas is the best kisser. Much better than any American boy.”

  “You mentioned that,” Lena pointed out sourly. “Besides, you're fourteen.”

  Suddenly Effie stopped jangling hangers. She was completely motionless.

  “What?” Lena demanded. Effie made her nervous whenever she was quiet.

  “Oh my God,” Effie breathed.
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  “What!” Lena shouted.

  She cringed when she heard the rustle of paper and saw what Effie was holding. It was the drawing she'd made of Kostos.

  “Oh my God,” Effie repeated, slower this time. She turned to Lena, as though seeing her sister through new eyes. “I can't believe you.”

  “What?” Lena's vocabulary seemed to have come down to that one word.

  “I cannot believe you.”

  “What?” Lena shouted again, sitting up in bed.

  “You are in love with Kostos,” Effie accused.

  “No I'm not.” If Lena hadn't known she was in love with Kostos before, she did now. Because she knew what a lie felt like.

  “You are too. And the sad thing is, you are too much of a chicken to do anything about it but mope.”

  Lena sank into her covers again. As usual, Effie had summed up her complex, anguished mental state in one sentence.

  “Just admit it,” Effie pressed.

  Lena wouldn't. She crossed her arms stubbornly over her pajama top.

  “Okay, don't,” Effie said. “I know it's true anyway.”

  “Well, you're wrong,” Lena snapped babyishly.

  Effie sat down on the bed. Her face was serious now. “Lena, listen to me, okay? We don't have much more time here. You are in love. I've never seen anything like this before. You have to be brave, okay? You have to go and tell Kostos how you feel. I swear to God if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your cowardly life.”

  Lena knew this was all true. Effie had hit the mark so blatantly, Lena didn't even bother refuting it. “But, Ef,” she said, her voice belying her raw agony, “what if he doesn't like me back?”

  Effie considered this. Lena waited, expecting, hoping for reassurance. She wanted Effie to say that of course Kostos liked her back. How could he not? But Effie didn't say that.

  Instead she took Lena's hand in hers. “That's what I mean about being brave.”

  Bailey was looking at Tibby when she woke up in the hospital bed. So was the nurse carrying Bailey's breakfast tray. Bailey looked pleased. The nurse looked slightly annoyed.

  “I hope you enjoyed your rest,” the nurse said, looking up at Tibby from under her eyebrows and giving her a small half-smile.

  Tibby slid off the bed. “Sorry,” she said groggily. She'd left a spot of drool on Bailey's pillow.

  The nurse shook her head. Her face wasn't mean. “Mrs. Graffman was quite surprised to find you here last night,” she said to Tibby. “Next time I suggest you try coming during regular visiting hours.” She looked from Tibby to Bailey. “I hear you know this young lady.”

  Bailey nodded. She was still lying back, but her eyes were alert.

  “Thanks,” Tibby said.

  The nurse checked the chart at the bottom of Bailey's bed. “I'll be back in a few minutes in case you need any help with that.” She gestured with her eyes toward the breakfast tray.

  “I don't,” Bailey said.

  The nurse gave Tibby a stern glance before she left the room. “Don't eat her breakfast.”

  “I won't,” Tibby promised.

  “Come back,” Bailey said, bouncing her hand slightly on the bed.

  Tibby got back on. “Hi,” she said. She almost said, “How are you feeling?” but she managed not to.

  “You're wearing the Pants,” Bailey observed.

  “I needed help,” Tibby explained.

  Bailey nodded.

  “Mimi died.” Tibby could not believe she'd said those words. Without warning she started to cry big, sloppy tears.

  One delicate tear trailed down Bailey's face. “I knew something was wrong,” she said.

  “I'm sorry,” Tibby said.

  Bailey shook her head to fend off the apology. “I knew you were here last night. It gave me good dreams.”

  “I'm glad.”

  Bailey looked at the clock. “You have to go. Your shift is starting in thirteen minutes.”

  “What?” Tibby was genuinely confused.

  “Wallman's.”

  Tibby brushed it aside with her hand. “It doesn't matter.”

  Bailey looked serious. “It does too matter. It's your job. Duncan counts on you, you know. Go.”

  Tibby looked at her in disbelief. “You really want me to go?”

  “Yes.” She softened a little. “I want you to come back, though.”

  “I will,” Tibby said.

  When she got to the lobby, Carmen was sitting there. She got up when she saw Tibby and hugged her. Tibby hugged back.

  “I have to go to work,” Tibby said numbly.

  Carmen nodded. “I'll walk you.”

  “I have my bike.”

  “So I'll walk you and your bike,” Carmen said.

  “Oh, wait.” Carmen stopped just inside the automatic doors. “I need the Pants.”

  “Right now?”

  “I think so,” Carmen said.

  “I'm kind of wearing them,” Tibby pointed out.

  Carmen took her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. She took off her baby-blue flares and offered them to Tibby.

  It was further proof of the magic of the Pants, how fantastic Carmen looked in them and how laughably dumb Tibby looked in Carmen's baby-blue ones.

  Though Carmen had slept in every morning until at least ten o'clock for the past two weeks, on the morning of August 19, she sprang out of bed with the sun. She knew what she was going to do. She pulled on the Pants, loving the snug, perfect fit around her hips. It felt like they loved her. She pushed her feet into leopard-print slides and quickly fastened the pearl buttons of a black collared shirt. She shook out her voluminous hair, still clean from being washed last night. She jabbed silver hoops through her earlobes.

  She left a note for her mom on the kitchen table and heard the phone ringing as she sailed toward the door. It was Mr. Brattle, she could see from the caller ID. She let him ring himself out. She wouldn't torture him today.

  She took a bus to the airport, where she picked up an expensive round-trip ticket that she'd reserved last night with her father's “emergencies and books” credit card.

  She slept peacefully across three seats on the two-hour flight to Charleston, waking only for the snack. Today, she ate the apple.

  She used up some time reading magazines in the Charleston International Airport; then she took a cab to the Episcopal church on Meeting Street. This time the live oaks and beard-trailing pecan trees looked nicely familiar.

  She arrived a few minutes before the ceremony was to begin. The ushers had finished ushering, and the congregation was assembled among giant bouquets of purple and white blossoms. She tucked herself anonymously into the shadowed back row. She could recognize two of her aunts in the second row. Her stepgrandmother, whom nobody liked, sat next to her aunts. Otherwise Carmen didn't know a single guest on her father's side of the aisle. It was sad how couples only seemed to have couple friends and lost them all once they stopped being a couple.

  Suddenly her father appeared at the side door, tall and distinguished in a tuxedo, with Paul in an identical tuxedo standing by. Paul was his best man, she realized. She waited to feel the bile leak through her, but it didn't. Paul looked so serious about his job as best man. Albert and Paul looked right together with their light hair and matching heights. Her father was lucky, she knew.

  The bride music started. First to emerge was Krista, looking like a piece of candy in her dress. She looked nice, Carmen decided. Her skin was so pale it looked blue underneath. The music seemed to notch up in volume, a dramatic pause elapsed, and Lydia appeared.

  There was something about a wedding. It didn't matter that Lydia was in her forties and wore a silly dress. She was transformed by grace as she walked up the aisle, and Carmen felt just as moved as she was supposed to. Lydia's smile was the perfect bride's smile, shy but sure. Her father's eyes feasted upon his bride's perfection. Once she arrived beside him, the four family members made a crowded half circle beneath the altar.

 
Carmen felt a momentary pang, seeing the family arranged like that. They wanted you there too. You were supposed to be there.

  Carmen let herself be hypnotized by the sawing of the cellist, the smell of the candles, and the drone of the minister. She forgot that she was the daughter of the groom and that she was dressed inappropriately. She left her body and traveled high up into the arches, where she could see everything, the big picture.

  It wasn't until they were marching back down the aisle that her father found her eyes and pulled her from the ceiling and into her body. The look on his face made her want to stay there.

  Diana somehow managed to make her brownies in the camp kitchen. Ollie tried to give her a back rub. Emily offered to lend Bridget her Discman.

  They were all worried about her. She heard them whispering when they thought she was asleep.

  She went to dinner with them the next night, just because she was sick of them clucking around her and bringing back care packages. There was a pile of rotting food under her bed.

  After dinner, Eric came over and asked her to take a walk with him. It surprised her, coming from the man who would not be caught. She said yes.

  They walked over the headlands to the main part of the Coyote beach. In silence they walked past the RVs to a secluded place at the end, where palm trees and cacti took over the sand. The sunset was fiery behind their backs.

  “I was worried about you. After the game yesterday and everything . . .” His eyes told her he meant it.

  She nodded. “I don't always play well.”

  “But you've got a spectacular talent, Bridget. You must know that. You know that everybody thinks you're a star.”

  Bridget liked compliments as well as the next person, but she didn't need this one. She knew how she was.

  He dug into the sand. He smoothed the walls of the hole he'd made. “I was worried that what happened between us . . . I was worried that you were hurt by it. Maybe more than I understood at the time.”

  She nodded again.

  “You haven't had much experience with guys, have you?” he asked. His voice was gentle. There was nothing demanding. He was trying to help.