Paullina Simons - Tully

From then on, Mrs Martinez tried to pick Tully up from kindergarten and bring her to the house. Tully remembered that several weeks later during the summer, Lynn Mandolini brought Jennifer over. Jennifer! So plump, so bossy! She came into Julie’s house and immediately told the two girls to give her the bike. The three of them played together all summer, and every summer after that. When Jennifer was young, she lost her temper frequently when she did not get her way. Screaming, she would throw toys that weren’t hers, throw sand, throw herself on the ground, spit. When Tully was younger, she found Julie a little easier to get along with; Jennifer’s tantrums upset her.

Jennifer improved as she got older, and it was only when Tully was older herself that she discovered Jennifer was moderately autistic at the age of two and three, and Jennifer spent years overcoming the remnants of the illness as an adult. Minor vestiges of withdrawal remained: the compulsive neatness and slight detachment from physical closeness were the most obvious. But there were other things, too. Every day, Jennifer counted the number of cracks in the pavement from her house on Sunset Court to the corner of 17th Street and Wayne. She always verbalized the discovery of a new crack and showed it to Tully and Julie. She counted the number of lockers on each floor of Topeka High. She kept careful track of the gross national products of the twenty-five most developed countries, and of the broken streetlights from 17th Street to Gage Park. Also Jennifer got 800 on her math SATs she took last October. Tully pressed her lips to Jennifer’s damp forehead.

Before Tully knew Jen was sick, she thought that Jennifer was the luckiest girl on earth. Out of the three of them, she seemed to Tully the one destined to live in perpetual sunshine, having lived a sunshine childhood. After all, Jennifer had the fortune to be born to two people whose sole mission in life was Jennifer’s happiness.

While Tully played barefoot and alone in a dirty yard with chickens and stray cats. Dusty and unwashed, Tully spent her summers and afternoons in that yard of the house on the Grove, looking out onto the turnpike and the railroad. Who put suntan lotion on her? Who kissed her boo-boos and washed her face and gave her toys? The early years swam together for Tully. Somewhere in there, there were two brothers and even a father, but then Hedda and Tully were alone, and Aunt Lena and Uncle Charlie came to live with them to help Hedda with the mortgage. When Uncle Charlie died, it became easier to pay the bills with his insurance. Hedda worked as she always had, while Aunt Lena stayed home, having never worked a day in her life. Aunt Lena was gray and heavy, though she had been only forty when she became a widow. She kept mostly to herself in her rooms: she took a bedroom and a dining room after Uncle Charlie died. She said she was entitled to the space since the house now technically belonged to her.

Tully breathed on Jennifer’s face. Jenny, so many things you have at God’s grace. But I don’t care. I don’t care, and I mean it. I don’t give a shit. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I swear to you, Jennifer, I would relive my whole life exactly the same if somehow God, by again denying me, could bring you happiness, bring you what you really want, want with all your heart, the only thing you want. Dear Jennifer. It’ll be all right.

The next morning, her eyes red and swollen, Jennifer lay in bed and said, ‘Tull, tell me your story of the turtle and scorpion.’

‘Jen, get the hell out of here. I am dead tired. The sun is out, isn’t it? I’m like a bush baby. Now I go to sleep. You slept all night.’

‘Tell me, Tully, tell me, and please rub my back while you do it.’

‘God, Mandolini, you’re fucking demanding. Oh, all right.’ Tully sighed, sat on top of Jennifer’s rear end, and began to rub Jen’s shoulders. ‘Once upon a time,’ began Tully, ‘a scorpion swam all the way to the middle of a big lake. And when he got there, he realized he did not know how to swim and started to drown.’

‘Not so hard, Tully, not so hard!’ exclaimed Jennifer.

Tully sighed and continued, ‘“Help! Help!” the scorpion yelled. But no one came to help him. A turtle was swimming by, and the scorpion saw her and said, “Turtle, please help me. Can’t you see I’m drowning?” And the turtle said, “No, I will not help you. If I come near you, you will bite me, and then I will die.”’

‘Tully, now I can’t feel it at all. A little harder, please.’

Tully stuck her tongue out at the back of Jen’s head.

‘And stop sticking your tongue out at me,’ said Jennifer, her eyes closed. ‘I know you did it. Just go on with the story.’

‘The scorpion protested,’ said Tully loudly. ‘“Turtle, I swear to you, I will not bite you. I’m not stupid, turtle. You could save my life. If I bite you, I will drown, and I do not want to die.” The turtle believed him, swam over, put the scorpion on her back, and started swimming with him back to shore. When the turtle was close to the shore, the scorpion bit her. And as they were both drowning, the turtle turned around and said, “Why? Why did you do it, scorpion? Now we’re both going to die. Why did you do it?” And the scorpion replied, “Because I am a scorpion. I cannot help myself. It is my nature.”’

Jennifer lay there quietly on her stomach. ‘I love that story,’ she said.

And I love you , Mandolini, thought Tully.

For Christmas, Robin took Tully to his father’s funeral. Mr DeMarco died on Christmas Eve.

They buried him next to Pamela DeMarco on the twenty-seventh of December. Robin introduced Tully as his girlfriend, and Tully smiled cordially. She observed a lot of grief on a bitterly cold and windy December day. She wondered how it was possible to display so much emotion in public. Robin stood still, dressed in somber black, and his face was a mask. But when he and Tully got back to his house and he smelled the camphor and saw his father’s chair, he broke down. Tully patted his back and again wondered. Robin never seemed to talk much or show much feeling about his dad’s cancer; yet, here he was, struck.

New Year’s Eve was better. Shakie, the Homecoming Queen threw a party, and everybody went. Even Julie seemed to be having a marginally good time with Tom. But it was Jennifer who held Tully at attention most of the evening, for Jennifer spent most of the evening with Jack. In fact he never left her side. Tully did not waste time looking at Jennifer’s face, knowing already what she would find there. Instead, she watched Jack to see what was in his. It was hard to tell with Jack. For one, he was drunk. And two, his face was the kind of face that would not be read easily. It seemed composed even under the glaze of alcohol. But his hands touched Jen’s shoulders and arms, touched her face and her neck. His eyes laughed with her, and so did his mouth. Bending his head down to talk to her Jack almost seemed tender to Tully. Tender- what an absurd word! Yet tenderness was what came to her mind when she saw Jack looking at Jennifer. And familiarity, too. Sort of like he knew her face well. Who can tell? Who can tell anything. Who can tell even heaven from hell. But Tully didn’t hum the familiar beloved Pink Floyd tune, not even under her breath. The small prickle of anxiety about Jennifer was suddenly too sharp for singing.

Jack is a popular football captain, thought Tully. That should tell me everything I need to know about his feelings for Jennifer. But all Tully wanted was what Jennifer wanted, and all Jennifer wanted was Jack.

They said good-bye to 1978 and greeted 1979 with champagne and kisses and ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Robin kissed Tully, and she smiled and squeezed his arm. I don’t need to sing a song to figure out what he is feeling, she thought. She lost sight of Jennifer for a moment and then couldn’t find her again anywhere. Not her, not Jack.