Paullina Simons - Tully

Tully found a toothpick. A party! How many people? How many of them guys? How many on a football team? Nice going, Jen. She smiled. Jennifer even promised there might be some guys at the party Tully – remarkably enough – did not know.

Tully started making friends with boys when she was around thirteen, going to a bunch of boozeless kiddie parties. Then boozeless kiddie parties started to bore her silly, and when she was fourteen and fifteen and sixteen but looked nineteen, twenty, twenty-one and had the ID to prove it, she went around with a wilder crowd. Most of the girls she hung out with were not in school anymore. Some were pregnant, all were husbandless. Some were still in school but truant; many were in foster homes. It all seemed kind of fun at the time. Nothing quite like a dozen kids, running around the Midwest, going to College Hill, drinking beer, dancing on the tables, smoking pot, having a good ol’ time. She got to know some older boys then, too; some college students. They looked like men and talked deep like men, but when it came to wanting to touch her, they had no self-control, just like boys. Mother did a lot of sleeping back in those days and didn’t mind Tully’s going out. After working hard for the Topeka refuse plant every day, who would have the energy for anything but sleep? Tully had been telling her mother she was sleeping over at friends’ houses since she was thirteen, knowing Hedda Makker would always be too tired to check. That’s what it was, thought Tully, as she ran a pick through her frizzy hair. She’s always been just plain too tired to ask me where I’ve been.

The younger boys and the older boys had all watched Tully dance, danced with her, and cheered her when she danced alone. They came up to her, they bought her drinks, they laughed at her jokes. All those boys who kissed her told her she was a good kisser; who fondled her told her she had a good body. Tully scoffed but listened to them all the same. And some had come calling for her in the following few days but did not stay long, disheartened by the stares of her mother and her Aunt Lena, or by the condition of the beaten-down house in the Grove with a broken front window, broken during Halloween of 1973 and boarded up ever since. Or disheartened by the Grove or by the railroad or by the river.

In many ways, Tully minded Topeka more than the Grove itself. Oh, it was just a town, a small, subdued green capital town, with empty streets and lots of cars. But when the town ended, and quickly end it did, after a narrow street, or a road that suddenly became a hill, there was nothing but the prairie stretching out ad infinitum. Fields and grass and an occasional cottonwood, all on their way to nowhere, windblown, ravaged by fires, never broken up by an ocean or even a sea. Just pastureland, millions of miles long, seemingly up to the sky, westward, outward, onward, to absolutely nowhere. Tully never felt more intensely confined than when she thought about the vastness beyond Topeka.

For sure, there were other nearby towns. Kansas City bored her. In Manhattan, there was nothing to do. Emporia and Salina were smaller than Topeka. Lawrence was a university town. Wichita she had been to only once.

The Grove emptied out on the western side into Auburndale Park, right next to the Kansas State Hospital with its Menninger facility for the insane, and on the eastern side into Kansas Pike. Fortunately, the Grove was too far a walk for most of the boys who got interested in Tully. It was just as well. Most of the boys Tully met were not to her mother’s taste.

When Tully was sixteen, all the ‘staying over at friends’ houses’ had stopped. Hedda Makker, having been too tired for years, suddenly expressed interest in the contents of Tully’s desk and found some condoms. Tully swore up and down that they were given to her as a joke, for balloons, that she knew they were bad but didn’t know what they were. It was to no avail. The ‘sleepovers’ stopped. That was a shame. Tully had made a lot of money on those dance contests up on College Hill.

Tully went nowhere for six months, except Jennifer’s and Julie’s, and when she had turned seventeen last year, her Aunt Lena came with her. Loud, laughing, partying teenagers, who drank Buds and told dirty jokes and sang the Dead, and Aunt Lena, sitting in some corner like a fat mute duck, watching, watching, watching her.

Not being able to go out and party, Tully, who for years had tried to shut out her childhood friends, reluctantly returned to the Makker/Mandolini/Martinez circle. They became known around Topeka High as the 3Ms. They were always together again, but it wasn’t the same. There were…things they did not speak about.

And they never slept outside in Jennifer’s backyard anymore, like they used to when they were kids.

Tully kind of missed that. But at sixteen, she missed College Hill more. Missed the dancing.

Tully was not allowed to stay out past six o’clock on school days or weekends. Last February, Tully stayed an extra few hours at Julie’s. Upon her return, at six-thirty, she found all the doors and windows locked. No amount of banging and crying made Tully’s mother shift from her TV chair before the eleven o’clock news ended. Hedda must have fallen asleep on the couch like always and forgot all about Tully.

In the summer before Tully’s senior year, Hedda Makker loosened up. But Tully suspected Mother had simply become too tired again to watch over her.

Tully called the summer of 1978 her ‘a-storm-a-day summer.’ It had not been a good summer. She watched a lot of ‘All in the Family’ and ‘General Hospital.’ But even sunny summers were a drag in landlocked Topeka. The girls managed to get to Blaisdell Pool in Gage Park once or twice. Tully went to a number of barbecues at Julie’s and Jen’s and read – a lot, all trash.

The girls celebrated Julie’s eighteenth birthday a month ago in August, with Aunt Lena pleasantly in tow.

Tully’s bedroom door opened.

‘Tully, it’s after six, are you ready to go?’

‘Yes, just brushing my hair.’

Hedda Makker came near and ran her hand over Tully’s frizzy locks.

‘Mom.’ Tully pulled away, and so did Hedda, looking her daughter over.

‘Your hair looks awful. The roots are growing out.’

‘Yes, I know, thank you.’

‘I’m only telling you because I care about you, Tully. No one else would care enough to tell you the truth.’

‘Oh, I know, Mom.’

‘I don’t have the money for your hair, Tully.’

‘I know,’ Tully said harshly. Then, ‘Mrs Mandolini will need me to clear up all the leaves soon,’ a little milder.

‘So will I.’

But will you pay me, Mother? thought Tully. Will you pay me to clean up your leaves and dance on your table?

‘I’ll rake them soon, okay?’ Tully said, her mouth stretching into a nominal smile. Hedda stared at her daughter and said, ‘You should let your natural hair grow out. It looks terrible now.’

‘Mom, I get the picture.’

Hedda squinted at Tully in the dim light. ‘Tully, you are wearing too much –’

‘Makeup,’ Tully finished. ‘I know.’

‘Tully, I know you know, you tell me you know, but you don’t put any less on. Why?’

‘Because I’m ugly, Mom, that’s why.’

‘You aren’t ugly. Where’d you get that idea from?’

Tully looked at her mother’s drawn, broad face; tired eyes the color of mud; lank hair, roughly the same color; thin, colorless lips.

‘Mom, I’m plain.’

‘But Tully, when you wear so much makeup, do you realize how you look?’

‘No, Mom,’ said Tully in a tired voice. ‘How do I look?’

‘You look slatternly,’ said Hedda. ‘You look cheap.’

‘Do I?’ Tully stared at herself in the mirror. Now be very, very quiet, Tully Makker, she thought.