Summer Sisters by Judy Blume
“I know. That’s what made me think of you. I don’t want you to miss this. Joanne will give you a week off. You know she will.” She paused, then added, “And so will Bru … if he really loves you.”
She wished Caitlin would stop tempting her, would just quit telling her everything she was missing. She’d get there someday. On her own.
“I just hoped …” Caitlin said, barely audible, “because I’m not coming back in September …”
“What do you mean, you’re not coming back?”
“I’m taking a year off before Wellesley, to travel and study abroad.”
“When did you decide?”
“Just now,” she said. “But it’s always been a possibility.”
Caitlin began to send postcards, a series of them, each one from a different place, a few cryptic words printed on the back.
I am the most …
You are my …
In the whole world …
We could be …
If only …
They reminded Vix of the messages printed on little candy hearts, the kind her father brought home for Valentine’s Day. At the end of the week she laid them out, trying to find the hidden message, but there were too many possibilities.
Abby convinced her to bring Bru home for dinner. “Really, Vix … this is getting ridiculous. You can’t keep him to yourself forever …” She knew Abby was right but she was nervous, afraid they would … what? Judge him and find him lacking? She didn’t have to worry. He arrived on time with a bunch of cosmos for Abby. He was polite, almost shy, endearing.
Abby served a simple summer meal of grilled sword-fish, island-grown corn, salad, blueberry pie. “We think of Vix as our daughter,” Lamb said, during dessert. “We’re her Vineyard family.”
“Yes, sir. I know that.”
“And we’re very proud that she’s going to Harvard in September,” Abby added.
“I know that, too.” He squeezed Vix’s thigh under the table, letting her know he got the message, a gesture neither Abby nor Lamb missed.
“What are your plans?” Abby asked Bru. “Do you think you’ll stay here, on the Vineyard?”
“I’m an islander. I’ve got a good job with my uncles’ construction firm. So long as the market for second homes holds we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“He seems like a very decent chap,” Lamb said that night, after Bru left. “With a bright future.”
“But Vix is so young …” Abby argued, “with her own bright future.”
“Vix isn’t going to do anything foolish, are you?” Lamb asked, to ease Abby’s fears.
Before Vix could answer Abby said, “But she’s in love … anyone with eyes can see that.”
By mid-August Vix was exhausted. The boundless energy of early summer had dissipated. She felt as if she could sleep for weeks. “I don’t like the idea of you starting college in such a rundown condition,” Abby said. “Why not stop working now and take some time off to just relax?”
“I’ll be okay,” Vix told her. But she wasn’t so sure. She felt so down, so depressed.
Bru said, “Maybe you need vitamins.”
“Maybe I just need more sleep.”
“So what’s the point of driving all the way down island every night?” he asked. “What’s the point of sleeping in Caitlin’s father’s house when you could be sleeping here with me?”
She couldn’t answer his question. She didn’t really understand it herself. She only knew she needed Abby and Lamb. She needed to feel connected. She felt safe with them. But every time she tried to explain that to Bru he’d get defensive.
“You feel safe with them but not with me?”
“It’s not a competition. It’s not you against them.”
“Sometimes I feel like it is. And there’s no way I can win.”
“You’ve got it backwards,” she told him.
On her last night on the island they made love until dawn. “Think that’ll hold you till we see each other again?” Bru asked.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “How about you?”
“I’ll just think about tonight. And if that doesn’t do it, there’s always the phone.” But when the time came, when she tried to get out of bed, he reached for her and whispered, “Stay with me, Victoria. I need you here, in my arms … please don’t go.”
And at that moment she felt that nothing … nothing would ever matter but this.
PART THREE
We Are the World
1983–1987
26
AT HARVARD she called herself Victoria.
Maia, her freshman roommate, an elfin princess from New Jersey, with colorless braces on her teeth—Don’t even ask! It’s my second round of orthodontia. My parents are thinking of suing—took one look at Bru’s picture and said, “God … what a great-looking guy. I love those rugged, outdoorsy types. Where’s he go to school?”
“He’s out of school.”
“Really. What’s he do?”
“He’s in construction.”
“Construction?”
“He works for his uncles. They build houses … on the Vineyard.”
“Oh, wow … the Vineyard. I hear that’s a great place. So where’d he go to school?”
“On the island.”
“Really? There’s, like, a college on the island?” She hated Maia already and they’d just met.
The freshman class was filled with high school valedictorians, people who’d scored in the high fifteen hun dreds on their Boards. They were talented, brilliant, intense, and competitive, used to being number one in everything they tried. Graduating second in her class from Mountain Day meant nothing at Harvard. It was a joke. She couldn’t imagine why they’d admitted her. She was out of her league, to use Tawny’s expression.
Even her roommate had bagged straight A’s. At least that’s what she claimed. She drove Vix up the wall with her running commentary and questions. Not that she answered any of them with more than a yes, no, or maybe, not since that first day. And the way Maia bit her fingernails as she studied, like a hungry gerbil. Vix had fantasies of tying her hands behind her back, or painting her nails with some vile-tasting substance that would send Maia racing across the hall to the bathroom. She couldn’t wait until Maia crashed at night so she could have some peace and quiet in their room.
Maia
SHE CAN’T BELIEVE she’s stuck with this creature for a whole year! Disappointed doesn’t begin to describe her feelings. They have absolutely nothing in common. She assumes the creature is at least smart. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here. But try to have a conversation and all you get is yes, no, maybe, like when she asks about the photos, not just the hunky boyfriend but the kid in a wheelchair. My brother. That’s it, that’s all she says. There must be a story there but the creature’s lips are sealed. And then there’s the beautiful girl looking right into the camera. There’s something about that face that keeps drawing her back. And the tantalizing signature—NBO, Your Summer Sister. When she asks what it means, the creature says, Nothing, really.
When she complains about the creature to her mother she tells her to keep trying. She could be shy, Maia. No, that’s not it, Mom. It’s something else. Snobby, maybe. Aloof. Paisley, their suitemate, thinks Victoria is deep, even mysterious, that she’s had experiences she isn’t able to share. Look into her eyes, Paisley says, and you’ll see what I mean. But when she looks all she sees is disapproval.
THERE WAS A TIME when Vix thought she’d choose a career in social work or physical therapy, maybe teaching, something, anything, to give back to Nathan. At UNM she might have gone that route. But now that she was at Harvard, now that she saw all her options … She thought at first she’d choose English for her concentration, because students at Harvard didn’t have majors the way they did at other schools. They had concentrations. But should it be just plain Literature or English in American Literature, or History in Literature? Or maybe she should go with Sociology or Social Anthropol
At night in their rooms at Weld South ideas were batted around like badminton birdies. Vix listened and absorbed but rarely spoke as the others discussed the equality of the sexes, genes versus environment, and the biggie—The Meaning of Life. Never mind that the Countess had told her there was no meaning. She was in Robert Coles’s Gen Ed 105, The Literature of Social Reflection. He understood life. She wanted to.
On the first Tuesday in October, Vix’s father called at dawn to tell her Lanie had given birth. Vix was an aunt to a baby girl named Amber.
Maia rolled over in her bed. “What?” she asked, half-asleep, as Vix hung up the phone, dazed.
“My sister had a baby. I’m an aunt.”
“I didn’t know you had an older sister.”
“I don’t. Lanie’s just turning seventeen.”
Maia sat up. “You mean she’s like a … teenaged mother? A statistic?”
“Exactly. She’s a statistic.”
No teenage sister of Maia’s would ever get pregnant and if she did, she’d have an abortion. Vix knew that Maia thought of New Mexico as a third-world country and Vix’s family as something right out of Tobacco Road. But to Vix, Maia represented the worst of privileged suburbia. She found her naive and judgmental.
Vix’s father sent a picture, one of those newborn shots taken at the hospital. The baby was a preemie, just four pounds but otherwise okay. Tawny would have no part of Lanie’s life. She made her bed, now let her lie in it. Vix sent Lanie a copy of Dr. Spock, plus a snuggly for Amber.
The next time the phone rang at an ungodly hour it was Caitlin. “Where are you?” Vix asked.
“Rome. It’s fantastic. I’m studying Italian … and art … and history where it really happened.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“For the holidays?”
“They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here.”
“Christmas?”
“Phoebe’s coming for Christmas.”
“Then when?”
“Maybe never.”
“Don’t say that.”
Caitlin’s voice turned low, seductive. “Do you miss me?”
“You know I do.”
“I miss you, too. Is Harvard all it’s supposed to be?”
“It’s tough, if that’s what you mean. I’m just trying to keep up.”
“What about Bru?”
“What about him?”
“Do you get to see each other?”
“We talk on the phone.”
“Is that enough?”
“What do you think?”
Every time she heard Caitlin’s voice she felt an ache, a longing for something, she didn’t know what. Even though it was almost a relief to be on her own with no one looking over her shoulder, no one questioning her every move, she missed her. To Vix she was still Caitlin Somers, the Most Influential Person in My Life.
“Does she have to call in the middle of the night?” Maia asked. “I need my sleep. I can’t function with less than seven hours. Could you please tell her she’s not just waking you, she’s waking me, too.”
But the next time Caitlin called and Vix asked if she could call before eleven P.M. Caitlin said, “Overnight rates are less expensive. I’m on a budget, you know. I’m learning to manage my money.”
“You’re serious?” Vix asked.
“Of course I’m serious.”
“Okay … I’ll try to explain that to my roommate.”
“What’s she like?” Caitlin asked.
“Nothing like you!”
“Good.”
It was Maia who explained to Vix that Caitlin wasn’t getting lower rates by waking her in the middle of the night. It was daytime in Rome when she placed those calls.
Forget commuting to the Vineyard. Forget once a week, forget once a month. Her course load was so much more than she’d bargained for she had to give up her second job working weekends at Filene’s, and just stick with three nights a week at the Coop.
Bru came up for Columbus Day weekend. He took a room in a Motel 6 outside of town. She had a sore throat and a fever. All she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep.
He scolded her for getting sick. “You don’t know how to take care of yourself.”
“Now you sound like Abby.”
“Maybe Abby knows what she’s talking about.”
Abby had called before the weekend urging Vix to set up an appointment with her doctor.
“I’m not that sick,” Vix had told her. “It’s just a little cough.”
“Little coughs can turn into pneumonia if you don’t take care of them.”
“I’m taking care … really.” She could hear Abby sigh.
And now Bru was lecturing. “I keep telling you, you need vitamins. There’s a new health food store in Vineyard Haven. The owner really knows her stuff. I’m going to talk to her about you. See what she says. There must be a reason you’re always so run down.”
Although he was concerned about her health he was turned on by her fever. Her body felt so hot, he said, inside and out. He couldn’t get enough of her. No, he wasn’t scared of catching her germs. And if he did it would be worth it. They had to make up for all that time apart. All those nights they’d fallen asleep dreaming of one another.
“You know what I’ve discovered about myself?” she asked him late Sunday afternoon, when her fever finally broke and she was soaking in the Motel 6 bathtub.
“That you’re crazy in love with me?” he said, sitting on the edge of the tub, soaping her back.
“I’ve always known that.”
“Then what?” He kissed her neck. “What have you discovered?”
“That basically I’m uneducated. I never knew until I came here how much there is to learn. How many ideas there are.”
He backed away from her.
“I didn’t mean …” Damn! He’d taken it personally. “Bru … this has nothing to do with you. It’s just that sometimes, when I start thinking about all there is that I don’t know … I get scared. That’s all I meant.”
“Why don’t you start thinking of all you do know. I’ll bet you know more about life than any of your new friends.”
“That’s probably true.”
“Don’t you ever wonder what you’re doing here?”
“All the time.”
She stepped out of the tub and he watched as she rubbed herself down with a towel. “You still love me?” he asked.
“Of course I still love you,” she told him. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure, to tell the truth.”
“Here, let me prove it …” she said, sinking to her knees.
A week later a package came from Vineyard Health. Six different kinds of vitamins and minerals with a personal note from the owner, someone named Star.
27
THOUGH PHILOSOPHY was a favorite topic, they were not above discussing Men and Sex. Maia was still a virgin. That might explain her fascination with Bru. Maybe she was more curious than meddlesome.
When Maia decided it was time to take action, Paisley and her roommate, Debra, encouraged her. “Winter is long and hard up here,” Paisley said in her southern drawl. She was a big, rawboned girl from Charleston, with the kind of looks Abby would describe as handsome. “You might as well find a warm body to make the dreary nights more exciting.”
Debra was Korean, educated at international schools, already a published poet. “If you consider YM being published. But I’m not Sylvia Plath. I don’t want to be Sylvia Plath. I mean, really, look how she wound up.”
“Because of some guy,” Maia said.
“Most people say it was her mother,” Debra said.
“She didn’t stick her head in the oven over her mother,
“She might have,” Debra said. “She might have had some innate imbalance.”
“They’re developing drugs for that,” Paisley said. “Soon none of us will be imbalanced. Unless we want to be.”
“And creativity will go right down the tubes,” Debra said, which got them talking about the neurotic personality and creativity for the next hour.
The warm body Maia found belonged to Wally, a guy she met in Justice, another coveted freshman elective. He was a virgin, too. They saw a lot of one another, spending hours analyzing their situation. Vix suggested maybe they were overanalyzing, maybe it would be better if they just went with their feelings. Maia accused Vix of being the least analytical person she’d ever met. Vix thought that was probably true, given the people Maia knew.
Before the blessed event Debra and Paisley presented Maia with an explicit how-to video. Maia sat stiffly, her hands ready to cover her eyes just in case, but instead of being grossed out by what she saw, Maia was turned on. So was Vix. She’d never guessed there were so many ways of making love.
Just after Valentine’s Day Maia returned to their suite looking smug. “Well,” she said, “we got through that!” Debra and Paisley crowded into their room. “We laughed a lot,” Maia said. “That’s a good sign, don’t you think?” She searched their faces for agreement. “Well, maybe not during,” she admitted. “During it’s all moaning and groaning and sweat and glunk but after … when you start talking about it, it’s like, wildly funny.”
They looked at Maia, then at each other, and finally Paisley said, “How about it, Victoria? You’re our resident expert.”
She was the only one of them to have a serious rela tionship. Sometimes she wished she and Bru hadn’t promised not to see anyone else. Sometimes she wished she could walk into a coffee shop or a bookstore and flirt. She wondered if Abby was right, if she was denying herself the pleasures of being young. Did Bru ever have similar thoughts? And how would she feel if he did?