In the old days girls were divided into two groups—those who did and those who didn't. My mother told me that. Nice girls didn't, naturally. They were the ones boys wanted to marry. I'm glad those days are over but I still get angry when older people assume that everyone in my generation, screws around. They're probably the same ones who think all kids use dope. It's true that we are more open than our parents but that just means we accept sex and talk about it. It doesn't mean we are all jumping into bed together. I was really surprised that Grandma thought Michael and I are lovers, in the true sense. On the final night my grandparents stayed with us they had tickets to a concert at Lincoln Center. I said they should go and that I would stay home with Jamie and ask Michael over to keep us company. Jamie
liked the idea of cooking something special for him. Finally, Grandma said, "I've checked with the DiNizios and they'll be home and you know the number in case of fire, don't you … "
"Yes," I said.
"Then I guess it's all right for us to go."
"I've been babysitting since ninth grade," I said.
"I know … I know … but with your mother and father away I feel responsible."
"Everything will be fine. You and Grandpa don't have to worry … just enjoy yourselves." Jamie cooked all day. She made veal marsala, spinach salad and lemon chiffon pie. Michael devoured everything. When we were done I told her we'd do the dishes and she went downstairs to practice the piano. She has a kind of studio down there, where she can work on her music and her artwork undisturbed.
Michael and I loaded the dishwasher but there wasn't any room left for the pots and pans so I filled the sink with hot sudsy water and said, "I'll wash and you dry." I handed him a dish towel.
"Aren't you afraid of dishpan hands?" he asked.
"Nope … are you?"
"Oh, sure … " He held out his hands, pretending to admire them. "I only use Ivory … that's why everyone thinks I'm eighteen instead of thirty-eight. My hands don't give me away."
"You idiot!" I flicked some soap bubbles at him.
"Hey … " He reached into the sink, picked up a handful of suds and threw them at me. So I tossed some more at him and he tossed them back and we had a terrific water fight until both of us were dripping and laughing hysterically. I cried, "No more, Michael … please … " He wiped off his face with the dish towel, then started snapping it at me. "Work, slave, work … clean up this mess."
"Stop it … " I told him, jumping away, but he kept snapping the towel at my legs. I ran around the kitchen, shrieking, with Michael chasing me, only now he was aiming the towel at my behind.
"I'm going to get you," I said, reaching into the broom closet. I came out with the feather duster and tickled his face.
"You'll have to pay for that," Michael said, grabbing my wrists. I dropped the feather duster as he pushed me against the counter. He took off his glasses before he kissed me.
"Why do you always do that?" I asked him after.
"Did you every try to kiss with glasses on?"
"No."
"Well … they get in your way," he said. "Your hair's all wet."
"So's yours." I reached up and rumpled it. "We better dry off." We went upstairs to the bathroom. When I looked in the mirror I was surprised. "Hey … I really do have soapy hair."
"Just remember who started it," Michael said.
"Hmph!"
"I'll shampoo it for you, if you want."
"You will?"
"Yeah."
"In the sink?"
"Unless you prefer the shower."
"Very funny."
"Well?"
"Okay." I handed him the shampoo and bent over the sink. He did a good job on my hair and when he was done I wrapped a towel around my head, then shampooed him. We rubbed each other's heads until they were barely damp.
"I have to change my shirt," I said. "It's drenched."
"Go ahead."
I walked down the hall to my bedroom. Michael was right behind me. "I'll just be a minute," I told him as I started to close my door.
But he pushed it back open. "I'll stay."
"Oh, Michael … come on."
"I promise, I won't touch." He closed the door behind him. I took a sweater and bra out of my dresser drawer while Michael bounced up and down on my bed.
"Very nice," he said, "firm but not too hard."
"I'm glad you approve."
"Did you know that soft mattresses are no good for making love?"
"Michael … "
"Really … I mean it."
"That's very interesting … now would you please leave so I can change."
"Are you ashamed of your body, Katherine?"
"No … of course not."
"Then what's the difference if I stay?"
"Oh … " I shook my head at him, turned away and unbuttoned my shirt. I pulled it off and unhooked my bra, which was also wet. Then I hesitated for a minute and slipped that off too. I reached for my dry bra and put it on. All that time neither of us said anything.
Then Michael was behind me.
"You promised … " I reminded him.
"I'll hook it for you … that's all."
"Don't bother."
"It's no trouble." But instead of hooking it he slid his hands around to my breasts and kissed the back of my neck.
"Please, Michael … don't"
"Why not, Kath?"
"Because … "
There was a knock at my door then and Jamie called, "What are you two doing in there? The kitchen's a mess and it's almost time for the 9:00 movie."
"Coming … " I answered, hooking my bra and pulling on my sweater. Then I turned to Michael and whispered, "That's why … "
"Excuses, excuses," he said.
"Ha ha."
We finished up in the kitchen and sat in the den with Jamie, watching the Saturday night movie on TV. When it was over Michael kissed us both goodnight, me on the lips and Jamie on the cheek. She was still touching her face when I went in to tell her goodnight.
"I think Michael is the nicest boy in the whole world," she said.
"That makes two of us."
"I wish he had a younger brother."
"That would be fun … but he doesn't."
"Kath … "
"Hmmm?"
"What were you two doing in your bedroom?"
"Nothing … Michael just wanted to see it."
"Come on, Kath … I won't tell anybody."
"There's nothing to tell."
"I know all about sex."
"Congratulations!"
"Were you fucking?"
"Jamie!"
"That's not a bad word … hate and war are bad words but fuck isn't."
"I never said it was."
"So were you?"
"No … I wasn't … but even if I was I wouldn't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because it's none of your damn business … that's why."
"Oh wow … " she said, clucking her tongue, "your generation is so hung up about sex."
6
"How'd it go with Artie?" I asked Erica on Monday. We were in zoology, classifying mollusks.
"I'll tell you how it went," Erica said, " … it didn't!"
"He never showed up?"
"Oh, he showed up all right."
"So?"
"Still nothing … not even a kiss."
"Weird."
"And I'm sure he likes me. He asked me to his school play … he's got the lead."
"I heard. I'm going with Michael."
"I know … Artie said he'll arrange for you two to bring me."
"Fine."
"If he doesn't try anything after the play I'm going to do something about it. I can't sit around waiting forever."
Mr. Kolodny looked up from his desk. "Will you girls in the back please stop talking and get to work." I pulled out a sheet of notebook paper, wrote
Like what?
and shoved it at Erica. She wrote back,
Something drastic!
On the night of the play Michael, Erica and I sat together in the fourth row of the auditorium at Summit High. The play was
Butterflies Are Free
and Artie played the blind boy trying to make it on his own. Michael was right—Artie really surprised me. He was as good as a professional. Somehow, he seemed different on stage—more sure of himself. He made me forget he was Artie Lewin, game freak. Sybil played his mother and Elizabeth played his girlfriend but they couldn't compare to Artie. It didn't help that Sybil looked fatter than ever and kept fidgeting with her gray wig. Elizabeth's costume consisted of the world's skimpiest bikini and when she first came on stage Erica nudged me with an elbow. For some stupid reason I felt I had to say something to Michael—something to show I'm not the jealous type. So I leaned over and whispered, "She's very pretty." How did I ever think up such a clever remark?
"Uh huh," Michael said.
When the play ended Artie got a standing ovation.
"I had no idea … " Erica said over and over. "I just can't believe it."
"Me neither."
"I told you," Michael said. 'It's the most important thing in his life." As I watched Artie take another bow I could see that Michael was right again. We tried to go backstage but there were two teachers in charge of keeping everyone out since the custodians were anxious to lock up the school for the night. Erica said she'd wait for Artie and that we should go on to the party.
I wasn't looking forward to going to Elizabeth's house and facing her close up. But there was nothing I could do about it without being obvious. Besides, how would Artie feel if his best friend didn't show?
Elizabeth's house was on a street a lot like mine. Her mother answered the door.
"Michael … " Mrs. Hailey said, It's so nice to see you again."
"Mrs. Hailey … this is Katherine Danziger," Michael told her.
"Hello," I said.
"Come in … come in … " Mrs. Hailey said, looking me over. "Everyone's downstairs … Michael, you know the way."
Could she have said that for my benefit, just to let me know that Michael had been there before? It was a big party—maybe thirty or forty kids—and as soon as the cast arrived everyone surrounded them, offering congratulations. Michael gave Artie a couple of friendly slugs, then bent down and whispered something to him, and Artie smiled, nodded and said, Thanks, buddy." Elizabeth's father took movies of us for the next half hour. Artie really hammed it up. Michael kissed Elizabeth on the side of her face and said, "The part was made for you … you were great." And Elizabeth answered, "I'm glad you thought so."
I walked away with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sybil was standing in the corner talking to some boy. I went over to her and said, "I enjoyed the play a lot … you were good." Sybil laughed. "Thanks, but I know better … She introduced me to the boy who turned out to be Elizabeth's younger brother. I wondered if he would make her list.
Erica took me aside, looked in Artie's direction, and said, "He's flying very high … I wouldn't be surprised if tonight's the night … "
"Good luck," I said, without enthusiasm.
"Oh, here you are." Michael stood next to me and reached for my hand.
"Have we met?" I asked, pulling away.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just forget it." I made my way over to Artie, who was sitting on the couch surrounded by fans. When I got a chance I said, "I know you've heard this all night but you were really sensational."
"Thanks, Kath." He moved over, making room for me beside him.
"How'd you do it? You actually convinced me you were blind."
"I don't know … it just comes naturally."
"Seriously, Artie … "
"I'm serious. I don't know how I do it. I've always wanted to act … ever since I can remember."
"You mean for real … professionally?"
"Yeah … it's tough to get started but I'm going to give it a try."
"I think you're going to make it."
"I hope you're right … where's my buddy?"
"Over there … talking to Erica … "
"Hey … " Artie called, motioning for Michael and Erica to join us. This time Michael didn't reach for my hand.
I watched and waited all night for some secret look to pass between Elizabeth and Michael but as far as I could tell nothing happened and when we finally got around to talking she was just plain friendly and even said that she remembered me from New Year's Eve, which only made me feel worse. The party was still going strong when Michael said, "Let's get out of here."
"Why … aren't you having a good time?" I asked.
"Not especially … are you?"
I didn't answer. I went upstairs to get my coat and sulked all the way home. Michael didn't say a word. He didn't even look my way.
When we got to my house I unlocked the front door. "Are you coming in?" I asked him.