Elin Hilderbrand - 28 Summers

Jewelry? Coop thinks. Makeup?

“You didn’t have to get all dolled up,” he says. “It’s just PJ’s.”

“Your sister looks lovely,” Kitty says. She has decided to forgo the cookie exchange as well. She and Senior are fixing leftover roast beef sandwiches to enjoy in front of the fire. Apparently, romance in the Blessing household isn’t dead. “You never know, your sister might meet a doctor tonight!”

PJ’s Pub is a dive bar beloved of all Johns Hopkins students, and Cooper Blessing and Jake McCloud are no exceptions. The bar is right across from the library and down the street from the Fiji house, so they used to go all the time—after studying, after chapter meetings, before and after lacrosse games. There were dollar imports on Wednesday nights and fifty-cent pizza slices on Sundays. Just saying these prices out loud makes Cooper feel a hundred years old, but the second he and Mallory descend the steps from street level and smell the old beer and cooking grease, Coop is twenty-one again.

Jake is sitting at their usual table next to the jukebox under the Stella Artois mirror where Jerry, the owner, writes the specials. When Jake sees them, he jumps to his feet.

“Oh, boy,” Mallory says.

The Hopkins kids are away on break, so the crowd is local and a little older. Jerry comes over to shake hands; he still remembers Coop and Jake by name even though they graduated nine and ten years earlier, respectively. They order one pitcher of beer, then another, and Mallory is keeping up, her face is glowing, and Coop understands; it does feel good to be out of the house. Mallory tells Jake the story about Ruthie showing up for Christmas dinner and Jake looks interested—though why would he care? Jake says that their Christmas was mellow. Ursula and her mother, Lynette, are still mourning the loss of Ursula’s father two and a half years earlier. Christmas isn’t the same without him and never will be.

“I’m happy to have some time away from them, honestly,” Jake says. “They don’t get along. Ursula had work to do yesterday—”

“On Christmas?” Mallory says.

“Sounds like Senior,” Coop says.

“And Lynette asked her to please put the work away and enjoy her family time.” Jake finishes off his beer. “You can imagine how that went over.”

“Well,” Mallory says. “I’ve about had it with family time myself.”

“Cheers to that,” Coop says.

Another pitcher, an order of wings, an order of mozzarella sticks. Coop gets up to take a leak and make a quick phone call. When he gets back, Mallory and Jake are leaning toward each other across the table, deep in conversation. Cooper remembers what a pain-in-the-ass little sister Mallory was when they were growing up, her and Leland always spying on Coop and Fray and his other friends and giggling and asking to tag along. Coop is psyched that Mallory has turned out to be such a cool person who can hang out with his friends like this.

“You got the book?” Coop hears Jake say.

“I did. I read it in two days. Thank you,” Mallory says.

“You know it’s a retelling of Mrs. Dalloway ?” Jake says.

She swats his arm. “I knew that, yes—but did you know that?”

Cooper reclaims his seat and Mallory and Jake look up—startled? He’s interrupting their little tête-à-tête? “What book are you guys talking about?”

Mallory stands up. “I’m going to pick some songs.”

Jake clears his throat. “It’s called The Hours, by Michael Cunningham. Have you read it?”

“No, I haven’t read it,” Coop says. “I don’t read anything for pleasure. I do too much reading for work. So, what, you sent the book to Mal? You two have…a little book group?” Coop laughs at his own joke—but maybe it’s not funny. Maybe Coop should start reading and join a book group. What a great way to meet smart women.

“What do you guys want to hear?” Mallory asks. She’s standing at the jukebox. “They don’t have any Cat Stevens.”

“Thank God,” Coop says.

“No Rick Springfield either.”

“Even better,” Coop says.

“Surprise us,” Jake says.

“Yeah,” Coop says. “If you pick something I don’t hate, I’ll be surprised.”

Mallory drops in quarters and starts punching buttons. A second later, there are piano chords, then Paul McCartney’s voice: “Maybe I’m Amazed.” Coop approves, and apparently, so does Jake. He gets to his feet and says, “Dance with me.”

“No,” Mallory says.

“There’s no dancing at PJ’s,” Coop says.

“Just dance with me to this one song,” Jake says.

“No,” Mallory says, but Jake wins her over and they start slow-dancing in front of the jukebox, which is strange, but whatever, they’re all getting drunk and Cooper is distracted anyway because at that moment, his old girlfriend from Goucher, Stacey Patterson, walks into the bar.

Is this a coincidence? No; Cooper did some investigative work and learned that Stacey is VP of marketing for the Baltimore Aquarium and she’s still single. He called information, got her number, and invited her to meet them here.

Stacey is wearing a red wool coat and a houndstooth miniskirt with high black boots. She looks every bit as beautiful as she did in college. Coop hurries over to greet her; they hug. He shepherds her over to the bar and says, “Let’s get you a drink. What would you like?”

“A glass of merlot, please.”

Cooper isn’t sure merlot is a wise choice at a place like PJ’s, but oh, well. Stacey peers over Coop’s shoulder.

“Is that Jake McCloud?” she says. “I haven’t thought about him in years .”

“Yes, it is,” Coop says. “He’ll be psyched to see you.”

“Is that his wife he’s dancing with?” Stacey asks.

“No,” Coop says. “That’s my sister, Mallory.”

“Oh,” Stacey says. “Well, they would make a cute couple.”

Cooper turns to watch Jake and Mallory spinning slowly in front of the jukebox; Mallory’s head rests for a second against Jake’s chest.

They would make a cute couple, Cooper thinks. In another life.

Summer #7: 1999

What are we talking about in 1999? Gun control; Y2K; Kosovo; Napster; John F. Kennedy Jr.; Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda; Egypt Air Flight 990; “I try to say goodbye and I choke”; gun control; Brandi Chastain; The Matrix; Tae Bo; Elián González; Amazon; Jack Kevorkian; Hurricane Floyd; the euro; gun control; violent video games; gun control.

Jake’s memories of Mallory and his anticipation of seeing her—in nine months, in nine weeks, in nine days—serve as the emergency reserve of oxygen in his emotional scuba tank.

Jake has had one hell of a year.

Ursula celebrates her seventh anniversary at the SEC by announcing she’s leaving. If you stay any longer than seven years, the saying goes, you’re there for life. She’s courted all over the city and ends up taking an accelerated partner-track position in mergers and acquisitions at Andrews, Hewitt, and Douglas for a mind-blowing salary and the prospect of an even more mind-blowing bonus.

With Ursula making so much money, Jake decides to quit PharmX, a job he has hated in practice and principle since he started. He’s tired of meeting with congressmen and local lawmakers in an attempt to ease regulations and raise drug prices for the pharmaceutical industry. He tells Ursula he’s quitting, she tells him he’s a fool, he tells her he doesn’t care, and she’s too busy to do battle.

Fine, she says. Don’t come crying to me when you’re sitting home in your boxers watching Montel Williams.

Jake gives his notice, then the next day schedules a root canal; he wants to get it done while he still has full dental. Jake’s boss, Warren, swings by his office more than usual, each time dangling some new enticement to get him to stay—a promotion, a raise, two extra weeks of vacation. (Warren can’t believe Jake McCloud lasted as long as he did in the glad-handing, soul-destroying world of pharmaceutical lobbying. Jake somehow managed to keep his personal integrity intact, fighting only for the drugs he believed in. He has been a tremendous asset all these years, and while Warren is sorry to see Jake go, he’s also cheering for him. His talents can be put to better use.)