Authors: Judy Blume
Vix felt her legs begin to tremble.
“Look at you …” Caitlin said. “You’re so scared of that side of yourself you have to run away.”
Suddenly it all became clear to Vix. “You planned it, didn’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was supposed to be the best damn birthday you’ve ever had. So maybe it got a little out of control. I’m sorry. Is that what you want me to say?”
“Was Bru in on it? Just tell me … was he part of your plan … or was it just you and Von?”
“You’re paranoid if that’s what you think,” Caitlin said. “Nobody planned anything. It just happened.” She lay down again with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
Vix’s head was pounding.
If she didn’t get away … if she didn’t get out of here …
She zipped up her duffel, expecting Caitlin to jump out of bed and beg her to stay, reminding her that their friendship was more important than anything or anyone.
“You know something?” Caitlin said, her voice a disgusted whisper. “You’re an emotional iceberg, terrified of your own feelings.”
Keep your feelings to yourself, Victoria. Don’t ever show anyone your disappointment
.
She slung the duffel over her shoulder. “And you’re a disaster waiting to happen!” she told Caitlin.
“Fine, go …” Caitlin dismissed her with a wave of one hand. “Have a mediocre life filled with mediocre people. Forget NBO … forget our pact. Because that’s exactly what you’re heading for … a boring and ordinary life.”
“Which is better than what you’re heading for!” Vix longed to slam the bedroom door. Instead, she pulled it closed behind her, tiptoed down the stairs, left a note for Abby and Lamb on the kitchen table, then let herself out
the door. Only then did a single sob escape from deep inside. But she swallowed that, too.
She’d hiked halfway out to the main road when she heard a truck coming from behind. She shifted the duffel to her other shoulder. But she didn’t turn, not even as the truck slowed down.
Gus
W
HAT WERE THEY
going on about at the crack of dawn? He’d tried holding the pillow over his head but he couldn’t breathe that way. Fuck. He’d been out until after two A.M. Not that he was complaining. You don’t complain when a good-looking woman hands you a slip of paper with her room number on it while you’re clearing away her grilled swordfish, even if she is wearing a wedding band.
They’d have to use the bathroom, she whispered, when he’d knocked on the door, in case her girlfriend returned while they were at it.
Okay … sure … the bathroom. What did he care? She’d padded the tub with a blanket and towels. If by chance her friend came back early, she’d say she was taking a bath. A bath, right. Whatever she wanted. She was wearing a silky pajama top with nothing underneath. Nothing. He was hard just thinking about it.
He took off his jeans, climbed into the tub, lay on his back. She straddled him, talked herself through it.
That’s it, oh yes … keep going … oh … you’re so strong …
She bit his shoulder, pulled at his hair, clamped her hand over his mouth so he couldn’t cry out when he came.
Thank you, very nice …
she’d said, shooing him out as soon as they’d finished.
Now he can hear the door across the hall open, then close. He listens.
Cough Drop
. He’s sure of it. Recognizes her footsteps. He pulls on his jeans, sneaks
downstairs, gets into the truck, trails her down the road. She’s carrying her goddamn duffel over her shoulder like some kind of navy recruit. Where does she think she’s going?
21
V
IX NEVER FOUND OUT
how Gus happened to be driving down the road early that morning. Or how he knew the Homeport was looking for mid-season replacements. She got in beside him and stared straight ahead. He didn’t try to make small talk. He asked only one question and that not until they’d stopped to buy juice and doughnuts which they ate overlooking the cemetery in Chilmark.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You sure you don’t want to go home?” Gus said.
She thought he meant Santa Fe and shook her head again. No way could she deal with her parents now.
The Homeport hired her just like that, without even checking her references. It meant a big cut in salary unless she could make it up in tips. But as she explained over the phone to Joanne, the owner of the cleaning service, her circumstances had changed and she couldn’t come back.
“What about Caitlin?” Joanne asked.
“I can’t speak for her.”
“Well, this is very disappointing,” Joanne said. “You
and Caitlin were the perfect team. I depended on you to finish the season.”
“I’m really sorry. It was a great job. But I have no choice.”
Joanne didn’t get it and tried wooing her back with more money.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling even more foolish. “I’ve already taken another job.”
Joanne sucked in her breath. “With the competition?” Joanne never referred to the other cleaning services by name.
“No … at the Homeport.”
“The Homeport? Why would you want to work there?”
“It’s … personal.”
“I see.” She paused and Vix imagined her chewing on her pencil, the way she did when she was talking to a dissatisfied client. “Well, if you change your mind give me a call. I’ll always have a job for you.”
“Thanks.”
Vix dragged her duffel halfway out the long dock, to Trisha’s boat, and caught her just before she left for work. When she explained that she’d left Lamb’s, that she had a job waiting tables at the Homeport and needed a cheap place to stay, Trisha said, “You’re looking at it, honey.”
Trisha tossed her a key to the hatch lock, told her to take either of the berths in the main cabin, then left for Vineyard Haven. “I should be back around seven, unless I meet Arthur, my new squeeze, for dinner.”
The second Vix was alone, she crumpled. She wept, she wailed, she soaked her T-shirt with her tears, sob
bing until she gagged. She was not an emotional iceberg! Then she lay down in the tiny berth and fell into a deep sleep.
She’d have slept all day if she hadn’t heard banging on the hatch and voices calling her name. She jumped up, disoriented, needing a minute to figure out where she was and why. When she finally opened the hatch and squinted in the bright sunlight, she saw Lamb and Abby.
“Vix,” Abby began, “we were so worried!”
“Didn’t you get my note?”
“Yes … but you didn’t say where you were going, or why.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure where I was going when I wrote it.” How had they found her? Had Trisha called them already?
“Look …” Lamb said, “whatever happened between you and Caitlin I know she regrets it.”
“All friends have disagreements from time to time …” Abby added. “It’s only natural … it’s like a marriage …” She looked at Lamb, then back at Vix. “Oh, Vix … no boy is worth this kind of grief.”
How did she know there was a boy involved? How much exactly had Caitlin told them?
Abby came toward her, steadying herself as the boat rocked in the breeze. “Come home,” she said, hugging Vix. “We’re family. You belong with us.”
“I can’t … please …” There was no way for Vix to explain.
Finally Lamb said, more to Abby than to her, “If Vix needs some time and space … I trust her judgment.”
“How much time?” Abby asked. “A day … two
days? We’re responsible for you, Vix. We can’t just let you live on your own. Your parents assume …”
Her parents! “
Please don’t tell my parents I’ve left. Not yet …” Then she added, “I’ll understand if you want to give the scholarship to someone else, someone more … worthy.” Her voice broke on that. They wouldn’t be as lenient this time as when they’d found out she and Caitlin had been hitching. A few soft words, a promise they wouldn’t hitch again, and that had been it. Not that it mattered because by the following summer Caitlin had her license. This time was different. This time there was more at stake.
Lamb and Abby looked at one another again. Then Abby said, “This has nothing to do with the scholarship. Nobody’s going to take anything away from you.”
Vix wanted to cry with relief. How easy it would have been to go back with Abby.
It wasn’t until later that Vix remembered Abby saying,
I’d like to think if I had a daughter she’d be a lot like you
. Yes, but … if they had to take sides, no matter how much they cared for
her
, Caitlin would always come first. She would always be the daughter. And Vix would always be the daughter’s friend.
When she came out of the Homeport, confused and exhausted after her first night on the job, Bru was waiting. “We have to talk,” he told her. They walked out to the end of the dock, where they sat swatting mosquitoes. “Whatever happened last night, I can live with it,” Bru said.
Was it just last night?
“I know it didn’t mean anything,” he continued.
She looked at him, puzzled. “What didn’t mean anything?”
“You and Von.”
“Me and Von? There is no me and Von. Is there a you and Caitlin?”
“Caitlin?” he said, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. He turned her hand over, studied it the way he had that first day on the beach, then covered it with both of his. “I think we should just forget about last night,” he said. Then his voice went all soft. “You’re my girl, Victoria. I knew it from day one. You’ll always be my girl.”
And just like that she melted. Just like that they were back together.
They saw each other every night, and Vix had no curfew, no one asking
Does he do this? Does he do that? When are you going to … ?
This time she was the aggressor. She practically begged him.
Please
, she whispered.
Please … Bru
. What guy could resist? He rolled on a condom right there in the dunes where they’d spread out a blanket and left half their clothes.
Trisha
T
HIS WAS GETTING HEAVY
, with Lamb calling two, sometimes three times a day, asking,
Can you handle it?
Handle it? What does he think she’s doing?
Then Abby gets on the phone.
Please, Trisha … try to convince her to come back
.
Come on, guys! It’s just been a week. Give the kid a break. Don’t suffocate her. She tells them she’ll do her best. But hey, if Vix and Caitlin have some kind of problem, Lamb should be trying to help the two of them work it out. He’s the parent, after all. As for what happened between the girls, Vix doesn’t want to talk about it. And
she
doesn’t believe in butting in.
Mess around with the money folks, wind up getting burned
. Vix will learn the hard way, same as she did.
Anyway, Vix has a boyfriend. Nice guy. She knows the family. Spent a couple of nights with one of the uncles a few years back. What the hell … she’s single.
22
T
HE
H
OMEPORT
had a big, noisy dining room, where food was served family style. It was popular with tourists and locals alike, more for its location overlooking the harbor, the best place to view spectacular Menemsha sunsets, than for its food. It was impossible to get a reservation this time of year unless you called at least a week in advance.
The menu was simple and never changed. Swordfish and lobster were the two most popular dinners. They came with baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and cole slaw. For dessert it was pie and ice cream. The blueberries in the pie were canned, not fresh. If anyone asked, Vix was supposed to tell them the truth. But no one ever asked.
Because all the up island towns were dry, there was no bar. You could BYOB if you wanted beer or wine with your meal, but Vix wasn’t permitted to open it because she was under age. Tips ran the gamut from generous to pathetic. She always tried to guess at the beginning of a meal how much her table would leave, but more than half the time she was wrong. One night she was sure she saw Barbra Streisand, another, Mary Steen
burgen. But neither sat at Vix’s tables. She did get to wait on a group from
Saturday Night Live
. They were loud and messy, dropping lobster shells on the floor, but they left her two twenties to make up for it.
The staff got to eat free. At first it seemed like a great deal but after the first week she couldn’t look at another piece of swordfish, let alone eat it. She lived on corn, baked potatoes, cole slaw, and Trisha’s muffins.
The manager considered her a hard worker but encouraged her to become more of a team player. She was always polite, always efficient, but she didn’t hang out with the other servers and they resented her. When one of the girls finally asked where Vix headed every night after work, Vix told her about Bru. After that the others were more accepting. Everybody loves a lover.
Probably no one at the Homeport would believe she was still a virgin … technically, anyway. But it was true. The first time they tried it hadn’t really worked. He’d never been with a virgin, Bru told her. Maybe it was always like this but he was afraid if he pushed too hard he’d hurt her. And he didn’t want to hurt her.
Hurt her? She loved it that way, couldn’t imagine it feeling any better, until the blustery morning when the weather prevented him from working and he came to the boat looking for her. She invited him aboard. There was no way the two of them could fit into her narrow berth so they moved forward, to Trisha’s cabin. She hoped Trisha wouldn’t mind. And there, on the v-berth, with the rigging creaking, the halyards slapping against the mast in the wind, the boat gently rocking, there,
with a lubricated condom and taking it slowly, so slowly, Bru got all the way inside her and it didn’t hurt that much, not that much after the initial quick, sharp pain, because she was so hot, so ready. And when she cried out the pain was mixed with pleasure. But she didn’t come, not that day. After, she found a few spots of blood, but they washed right off the vinyl cushions.
The next day she was sore. But not so sore she wasn’t ready to try it again. When she did she began to understand what all the fuss was about.