Paullina Simons - Tully

Upstairs, Tully washed her face and brushed her teeth. After staring at herself in the mirror for a few seconds, she got a pair of tweezers from the medicine cabinet and plucked her eyebrows. In her room she took off her jeans, baggy sweater, socks, bra. She used to not wear a bra under her baggy sweaters, but her mother had recently taken to giving her surprise quizzes, and Tully made sure she was always prepared. Putting on an old summer tank top, Tully climbed into bed. She left the light on, lay on her back, and looked around her room.

The walls were painted light brown and stood bare of all the trappings of obsessive teenagehood – no pictures of the Dead or the Doors, no Beatles, no Stones, no Eagles, no Pink Floyd. Not even her favorite Pink Floyd. No Robert Redford, John Travolta, Andy Gibb. No Mikhail Baryshnikov, Isadora Duncan, Twyla Tharp. No postcards, no photographs obvious to the eye. No bookshelves, no books. No records. Near the window there was an old wooden table that served as a desk, a makeup stand, and a bed for Tully. In front of the table there was one chair. There was an old dresser by the corner near the closet. On the nightstand near the bed, there was a lamp and a phone. Tully did not have a TV, but she had a small AM/FM radio.

And that is all Tully saw as she lay in her bed and fought sleep. But she knew that in the closet, four milk crates belonged to her: one was filled with National Geographics , a subscription gift from Jennifer, and the others with all the books she had read, ‘presents’ from Jennifer or Julie. And in the top drawer of her table, beneath some general debris there was a photograph of little Tully, about six years old, blond and skinny, flanked by a chubby Jennifer and a dark-haired Julie. In the photo, Tully held a toddler in her arms.

Tully fought sleep for about an hour or two. She turned and tossed. She sat up, rolled her head, rocked back and forth. She laughed, stuck out her tongue, mumbled. Getting out of bed to open the window, she stuck her head out – it was cold, nearly freezing – Tully thought of screaming at the top of her lungs. But the Kansas Pike, the trains, the river, were already screaming. No one would hear Tully. Leaving the window open, she got back into bed and pulled up the covers. Finally she was restlessly asleep, sleeping just as she was awake, tossing and turning, rolling her head back and forth, rocking on her back. Tully kicked back the covers and lifted her arms up above her head, then put them back down again, sweating profusely.

As Tully dreams, she finds herself lying on her bed, trying to keep awake; she sleeps and dreams of trying to keep awake, closing her eyes, her head snapping with pre-sleep, but she is sitting up, and finally lying down, finally sleeping in her dreams, and as she sleeps she hears the door open and footsteps creaking on her wooden floor. The footsteps are slow and careful; Tully tries to open her eyes, but she can’t, she shakes her head from side to side, side to side, but it’s no good; the footsteps are close to her, they are next to her, she feels someone bending over her – to kiss her? – and then – the pillow, the pillow over her face, as she flails her arms up and twists, but the body is on top of her, holding her down, and she is twisting, twisting, she tries to scream, but she cannot open her mouth, there is no breath, she is choking, wheezing soundlessly. Tully tries to draw her knees up, but there is a body on top of her, holding her down, the pillow, oh no oh no oh no – and then she comes to, sitting up sharply, gasping for breath, drenched with sweat.

She panted and wheezed, her eyes closed; she panted, her hands around her drawn up knees; she tried to get her breath back. Then she went to the bathroom and threw up. She took a shower, dried herself, put on a sweat suit, and sat behind her desk in front of the open window. She sat there in the cold until her head was too heavy to hold up, and she put it down on her wooden desk. When she heard the first birds, Tully fell asleep.

Robin wanted to come and pick Tully up on Homecoming day. He also wanted to meet her mother. But Tully thought it was a bad idea and said so.

‘Tully, but I’m tired of playing these games. Involving Jennifer, lying, sneaking about. There’s got to be a better way.’

‘Sure there’s a better way,’ said Tully. ‘You can go out with another girl.’

‘She can’t be that much of an ogre,’ said Robin. ‘Doesn’t she want you to have a good time?’

‘I haven’t thought about it,’ said Tully vaguely. ‘Probably not.’ She only hits me in the face, because she knows it’s the only place I care about, Tully thought. Good time? I don’t think so.

‘Don’t you think she’d like me?’ Robin asked her.

Tully sighed. ‘I’m sure she’d like you, Robin.’ she said. ‘You’re very likable.’

‘How are you getting to Home Bowl? Are you walking?’

‘Sure, why not?’

Tully heard Robin’s breathing through the receiver. ‘Let me get you a bike,’ he said at last.

She laughed. ‘Robin, I don’t need a bike. Thanks, anyway,’ said Tully.’

Tully walked over to Julie’s on an October Saturday afternoon and Julie’s dad drove them to Home Bowl at Washburn University. The Topeka High Trojans played all their home games but one at Home Bowl. The girls cheered on the Homecoming football heroes and tried to get Jennifer’s attention, but she seemed so busy throwing her pom-poms that she did not notice them.

Robin arrived shortly before the game. Tully introduced him to Julie and Tom and then climbed down the bleachers to say hi to Jennifer, who was sitting on the ground during a short break. Jennifer stared at Tully and didn’t say a word.

She’s silent a lot these days, thought Tully. Not just quiet, for Tully spent many quiet years in Jennifer’s company, but silent. Like a voice stopped talking inside Jennifer’s head and she was just sitting around waiting for her body to go silent as well. Like a TV with the sound permanently off. Maybe that thing is coming back into Jen again. But so late?’

‘I gotta go, Tull,’ said Jennifer at last, getting up from the grass.

‘Go on, go on,’ said Tully. ‘Go and cheerlead us into victory.’

Tully climbed back up, and she and Julie tried to figure out which uniform-clad butt was Jack’s.

‘Didn’t Jen say he was number thirty?’ said Tully.

‘Is he a linebacker?’ asked Julie.

‘He’s a throwbacker,’ Tully replied.

‘He is the captain of the football team,’ interjected Tom.

‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ said Tully icily.

Despite the relentless rain that started in the first quarter and did not let up, the High Trojans won 12-10, and afterward the two couples went to the Sizzler. Robin had to relay drive, since he was the only one with a car – a two-seater. Jennifer stayed with the cheerleaders. Before Tully and Julie left, they hollered on three, ‘Well done, Jen!’ but she didn’t look up.

Twirling her pom-poms, Jennifer stood there with rain falling on her face, unable to see in front of her. She thought of being eight and running home with Tully after they got caught in a terrific Kansas summer storm. In the end, they got a little frightened and, drenched, climbed under someone’s porch and huddled together. And Tully, getting out her sodden handkerchief and wringing it, was laughing and tenderly wiping Jennifer’s face – her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, her eyes. Jennifer could smell Tully’s breath – warm fruit gum – and see Tully’s own wet face. That is what Jennifer thought of, when she looked and looked but couldn’t see Jack in front of her.

The Homecoming dance was in the Topeka High School cafeteria. Their Senior Banquet later that year, catered and all, would also be in the Topeka High School cafeteria. Not that it was a bad cafeteria – it had a fireplace and everything. It was just amazing to Tully how she never left the school unless she went up to College Hill. I wonder if the Senior Prom is going to be in the cafeteria, too. The Junior Prom was.