Summer Sisters Part 6

"Oh, pfoo," Grandmother said.

Vix had to remind herself that this woman was Regina Mayhew Somers, that she'd once read Valley of the Dolls and Peyton Place. She probably knew all about coitus interruptus.

"I'm not well at all," Grandmother continued. "And those Florida doctors can't find the problem. But you know who you get down there a doctors looking for suns.h.i.+ne, doctors who want to fish all day or sail boats a and so many of them of the Jewish persuasion. Not that they don't make good doctors," she hastily added.

"Now, Grandmother a" Lamb said, putting down his fork.

"Oh, I knew you would take that wrong!" she cried, as if she were a naughty girl. "But Abby understands, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, I understand completely," Abby said.

"We all understand, Grandmother," Caitlin added.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Grandmother asked lightly.

Regina Mayhew Somers OH, WHAT FUN, making them squirm in their seats! But if they're going to treat her like some kind of relic she'll act the part. Not that she's denying her years a far from it a she's proud to be an octogenarian. Of course, she doesn't look a day over sixty-five. She could easily be taken for Lamb's mother, not his grandmother. There's still plenty of s.p.u.n.k in the old girl.

Caitlin is quite a beauty, isn't she? She should marry well. What about Charlie Wetheridge's grandson? An investment banker, she hears. But Caitlin isn't ready yet, is she? No a she's just thirteen or fourteen.

Bertie's an odd one. And that noise he makes. Even with her hearing loss it's obvious. Isn't Lamb aware? Can't he do something about it?

This salmon is quite tasty, actually. Maybe she'll ask for a second helping. Good thing the Jew doesn't go in for those ethnic dishes. She's heard they have strange dietary habits.

Dorset WHAT A NUMBER Grandmother is doing on Abby, calling her the Jew, testing her. And that story about doctors! What doctors? There's nothing wrong with her. She'll probably outlive all of them. Ha!

Where the f.u.c.k is her Percocet? She'd wrapped it in a tissue, hidden it in the pocket of her pants. If they hurry and finish lunch she'll still have time for a quick trip back to the fish market. Maybe fishboy can get away for an hour. Now there's a positive thought. What a body, and those lips a she can feel them on her already a on her mouth, her neck, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, between her legs. Yes, think about that, Dorset a that'll get you through this meal. Where's her vibrator? In her overnight bag? Maybe she can excuse herself. If she can't have fishboy she can at least think of him while using her magic pole.

Sharkey WHAT A JOKE his family is, sitting at the table with the Old Bird, every one of them wis.h.i.+ng they were someplace else. And what's Dorset thinking about with that weird little smile on her face? She's not bad looking, his aunt. No trouble picturing her in underwear. The old-fas.h.i.+oned kind, white cotton panties, pointy bra. Like in the old Sears catalog he keeps hidden in his closet. Probably goes back to the Old Bird's day. So what?

Wonder what Vix is thinking, licking the crumbs off the corner of her mouth when she thinks no one's looking a like a cat.

He's got to get back to work. Zach's going to be real glad he hired him. He can do a whole lot more than pump gas. He's almost sure he can convince Lamb the Datsun truck makes sense. Twenty thousand miles. Almost new. Jet black. Like something James Bond might drive if he drove a truck. Perfect for next summer when he has his license. With a VIP plate spelling out SHRKY. Then Carly can write a song about him. n.o.body Does It Better a ALL THROUGH LUNCH Vix watched as Caitlin seethed. She waited for the explosion, surprised when it didn't come. It wasn't until later, after Grandmother and Dorset left, that Caitlin stormed into the kitchen where Abby and Lamb were cleaning up. "I don't see how you can stand it," Caitlin said to Abby. "She's such a prejudiced old b.i.t.c.h!"

Abby looked stunned. So did Lamb. "I won't have you bad-mouthing Grandmother!" Lamb said in a tone Vix had never heard him use.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd tell her off yourself."

"If it weren't for Grandmothera"" Lamb began.

Caitlin cut him off. "What? You'd have been sent on the orphan train?"

"Watch your step, Caitlin."

"It's disgusting, the way you just let her say anything a without thinking how it comes across to the rest of us!"

"That's it!" Lamb said. "Go to your room."

"Oh, please a isn't it a little late in the game for sending me to my room?"

Abby reached out and touched Caitlin's hand. "Thank you, Caitlin. It means a lot to me that you care."

Caitlin pulled away. "Don't take it personally," she said. "I was talking about prejudice in general. And now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I'm being punished!"

Upstairs, in their room, Vix wondered herself why Lamb let Grandmother Somers get away with those rude remarks. She didn't have to ask. Caitlin volun teered the information. "You know what it's all about? Money! You don't tell off the one who controls the big stuff."

Oh, the Big Stuff. She couldn't believe how naive she'd been, a.s.suming Lamb was struggling to support his family, because who did she think paid for the fancy house, the new Sunfish, the camera Lamb and Abby gave her for her birthdaya"a gift so extravagant, she'd never show her parents? She'd heard Tawny refer to some of the Countess's friends as trust-fund babiesa"always with disdaina"but until now she'd never known any personally.

"The one with the big stuff has a lot of power," Caitlin said.

"I wouldn't know," Vix said.

"You're lucky."

"No," she argued. "You are."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

She was right, of course. But Vix knew her parents would do anything to have plenty of money. Well, not anything, maybe, but close to it. And they wouldn't need a lot. Not as much as Grandmother Somers, however much that was. Not even as much as Lamb. Just enough so they'd never have to worry. Just enough to buy a nice house, maybe one of those new places off the Old Taos Highway, and a couple of vacations a year, maybe to Hawaii, and plenty of help for Nathan. She could hear Tawny reminding her, The rich are different, Victoria.

Yeah a right, she thought. They have more money.

Abby SO, CAITLIN HAS a social conscience. Well, good for her! She's a s.p.u.n.ky girl. Challenging but s.p.u.n.ky. Just last week when she'd joined the girls on a bike ride, Caitlin had stopped off at the cemetery on Spring Street to show Vix Lamb's parents' grave.

If they'd lived they'd be my grandparents, Caitlin said.

If they'd lived they'd be my in-laws, she told Caitlin, placing a small stone on top of the double gravestone. Then she'd ambled through the cemetery checking out the Somers and the Mayhews, all of them Lamb's ancestors. Caitlin and Vix followed. When she came to a wrought-iron arch with the words Martha's Vineyard Hebrew Cemetery, she stopped. I could be buried here, she told the girls.

What are you talking about? Caitlin asked.

I'm Jewish. You know that.

But if there's only one G.o.d, what difference does it make which part of the cemetery you're buried in?

She looked at Caitlin for a minute. That's a profound question.

I'm a profound person, Caitlin told her, in case you haven't noticed.

I've noticed, she said, trying to keep a straight face.

10.

Summer 1979 VIX ALTERNATELY dreamed of striking it rich and becoming Mother Teresa. If she were rich she'd be able to take Nathan to Disney World. She'd take him to the best doctors, hire the best physical therapists, send him to the finest schools. She'd build a hot tub in the backyard so her parents could relax when they came home from work. She might even buy Lewis the ten-speed bike he'd been begging for, and Lanie a she wasn't sure about Lanie because Lanie was a handful that year, willful and wild and not even thirteen.

On the other hand, if she opted for Mother Teresa she wouldn't have to worry about having money. She'd have G.o.d. She'd spend all her time praying and ministering to the sick and needy. And she wouldn't have to worry about her b.r.e.a.s.t.s growing too big because her habit would hide them. Not that she had the time to worry about the size of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, though sometimes she wondered if she might have caught some rare disease from Trisha.

With summer, the problems of the world, her world anyway, magically lifted from her shoulders. It was the hottest July on record, with humid tropical air blowing in on southerly winds. The flowers in Abby's garden wilted, the crackers and cereals in the pantry went slack, a disgusting green mold grew on anything that wasn't thoroughly dried. Everyone was talking about a Chilmark family who had fallen ill with a rare, infectious type of pneumonia. Was it Legionnaires' disease? Abby lectured them about scrubbing their hands before meals, keeping their nails cut short and scrupulously clean. She bleached their bedding and towels, their clothes.

Sweetie spent the long muggy days dozing under the trees. She had no more energy or appet.i.te than the rest of them. How lucky they were not to be in the city where people were dropping like flies from the heat, Abby reminded them, while they could stand in water up to their chins all day if they felt like it. Even Sharkey, who never got wet, turned the garden hose on himself.

At night the foghorn lulled them to sleep.

It was the first time Vix had come away without feeling guilty, thanks to Nathan's doctor, who'd arranged for him to spend two weeks at a camp for disabled kids in the Colorado Rockies. "No parents," Nathan had told her proudly. "n.o.body to tell me what to do."

"Promise you'll be careful?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

"You know a watch out for yourself."

"I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm nine. So you don't have to worry about me."

"I'm not worried."

"Good. Because I'm going to have fun. It's going to be like school but better. No Tawny."

She'd laughed with him over that. "You're going to have a great time," she agreed, hugging him.

"And if you're lucky I'll tell you about it."

For two months she wouldn't have to plan her life, baby-sitting every afternoon and as many nights a week as Tawny would allow, determined to do something about her future and the future of her family. For two months she could just lie back and let Abby take care of her.

She didn't mind the cloying dampness or the heat and humidity. She had come to the Vineyard that summer with a delicious secret, a secret she'd been savoring for months. She'd seen an announcement on the bulletin board at the public library in Santa Fe. Reluctant Swimmers. It's Never Too Late to Learn. She'd signed up at the town pool without a word to her parents, shoving the bottom half of the permission slip in front of Tawny one night, telling her it was for a cla.s.s trip that didn't cost anything. Tawny scribbled her signature without even reading it. Vix paid for the course out of her baby-sitting money and had enough left over to buy a neon yellow maillot, the latest in swimsuits according to Seventeen.

And what good timing! True, her stroke was crude, clearly that of a beginner. And she wasn't going to win any races. But the first time she marched out to the end of the dock, jumped into the water, and swam out to Lamb's boat, the expression on Caitlin's face made it all worthwhile. "I thought you didn't know how to swim."

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions," Vix told her.

"I was hardly jumping. This is your third summer here and until now I've never seen you in water above your knees."

"I wasn't hot enough to swim until now."

Caitlin laughed. "I just love the way your mind works."

They prepared for the arrival of the Chicago Boys by installing a hook-and-eye lock on their bedroom door. But nothing could have prepared Vix for the day Gus took her by surprise in the pond, grabbing hold of her foot while she was swimming out to Lamb's boat. She panicked, going under, coming up gagging and choking, flailing her arms. The second her feet touched bottom she ran for sh.o.r.e.

Gus was right behind her. "Hey, Cough Drop," he called, tossing her a towel. "You've got snot coming out of your nose."

Daniel stood by slapping his thigh as if she were performing a comedy routine for his pleasure. To get back at them she and Caitlin raided their room. Caitlin found a jock strap dangling from a hook on the back of their door. She sniffed it and proclaimed the owner this summer's winner of the Dingleberry Award.

They found a Victoria's Secret catalog under a pile of dirty clothes, which only enraged Vix more. Imagine a s.e.xy underwear catalog with her name on it! And one or both of the Chicago Boys had annotated the pages: best t.i.ts, best a.s.s, best all-round-lay.

"These guys don't think about anything else!" Vix said. Not that she and Caitlin weren't thinking about it, too. Their Power had turned into an itch that never went away. But at least it was hidden, not dangling between their legs for all the world to see.

Caitlin taped a photo of Georgia O'Keeffe to the Chicago Boys' bunk bed.

Dear Baumer and Pustule,

Try jerking off to a real woman for a change!

After that Vix tried to ignore them, until the night they all wound up on the ticket line at the Strand to see Alien. While they were waiting a group from Camp Jab-berwocky pa.s.sed, on their way to the Flying Horses. "r.e.t.a.r.ds," Daniel said to Gus, and the two of them did a number, pretending to be spastic.

She exploded. "You stupid a.s.sholes! Not everyone with physical disabilities is r.e.t.a.r.ded. You're r.e.t.a.r.ded if that's what you think!" Although some of the Jabber-wocky campers were r.e.t.a.r.ded they had no right to make a joke of them. G.o.d, they were beyond stupid a beyond hope!

The two boys were amazed. They couldn't believe that she, who never showed anything, had raved and ranted in public. "What?" Gus said. "What'd we do?"

"Her brother has muscular dystrophy," Caitlin told them. "He's in a wheelchair. But he's a million times smarter than either one of you pathetic slobs will ever be."

That shut up the Chicago Boys. Even Gus couldn't come up with a smart remark. Vix was fuming. Inside the theater they went in separate directions and the second the movie ended she marched up the street to Murd.i.c.k's Fudge and sent Nathan a one-pound box of a.s.sorted flavors. She knew it was stupid, that the camp wouldn't let him have more than one small piece at a time, if that, but she figured he could share the rest with his friends and they'd all know she'd been thinking of them.

After that, she refused to speak to Daniel or Gus. She looked the other way when and if she pa.s.sed either of them in the house. Two days later they approached her as she came out of the bathroom on her way to bed. Gus did the talking. "We didn't mean anything. We were just fooling around. We didn't know you had a brother like that."

"He's not like anything. He's a person who just happens to have been born with something he can't control. It could have happened to you. It could have happened to any of us. So the next time you see someone in a chair, someone spastic, just imagine if that were you! The same you who's standing here now, but your mind's been trapped inside a body you can't control!" She'd surprised herself, sounding so clear and strong and angry. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel the blood pumping to her face.

"I never thought of it like that," Gus said. He elbowed Daniel, signaling that it was his turn to speak. But Daniel just turned and walked away.

"He's having his own problems," Gus said.

"Who isn't?" She knew Daniel's father was about to remarry, someone Gus referred to as the Babe. A real dish, not even thirty, he'd told them, making sure they got his point.

"Are your parents divorced, too?" he asked.

"No. Not all parents are divorced. And not all problems are about parents."

"You don't have to be so hostile. I said we were sorry."

"Actually, you didn't."

"Well, we are."

"Okay." She realized then she was standing outside the bathroom in an oversize T-s.h.i.+rt and underpants, with a toothbrush in her hand, talking to some sixteen-year-old boy she didn't even like.

And then Gus did the strangest thing. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I really am sorry, Cough Drop," he said. "We acted like s.h.i.+ts. Good night."