blue toenails.
Jezzie had always been a faithful friend. She and I got along famously—she was raucous, loud, and wild, and I went along with whatever she did, usually laughing while hiding my face. She would make sure I didn't drink so much that I got sick when we went to parties, She would face down any girls who thought I was easy prey. She even (with an oh-so-sweet manner) talked my mom into extending my curfew a few times. She took me to my first rock concert—and my second, and third. She taught me how to smoke, and she showed me how short to cut off my cut-offs. We were best friends. Nothing could come between us.
So, of course I told her about Tony, that he was the one. She looked at me like I was sick.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Well, he's been flirting with me an awful lot, and last Friday, he kissed me.” My face turned red just telling her about it.
“Kissed you?” she asked. “That's it?”
“Jezzie!” I said, my face flushing deeper. She laughed, tousled my hair, and announced, “I'll just have to check this guy out,”
It was August, and the weekend of her birthday, when she came by the martial arts studio to pick me up after my evening class. I introduced her to Tony, and she immediately turned on that charismatic charm that seemed to draw men like sweat draws flies. She produced a bottle of wine that she'd talked someone into buying for her. Tony located some clean coffee cups, and the three of us had a drink in celebration of her birthday. Then she had another, and so did Tony. I abstained, wanting desperately to avoid making a fool of myself in front of Tony. After they had two glasses each, Tony asked her if she wanted to see his new car. She gave me one of her I'm just toying with him smiles, and they went to the parking lot together. I poured myself another half a cup and sipped at it while I waited for them. After I'd finished the wine, I began to watch the clock. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Twenty-five minutes. I was worried about them, so I snuck around the side of the building. I could see the car. They were nowhere to be seen. I was really getting ticked off when I noticed that the Nova was rocking like a cradle. I could even hear the shock absorbers squeaking.
Damn it! I thought, Jezzie, what the hell are you doing? Concern raced through my mind close on the heels of fury. I was really worried that they were doing what I thought they were doing in there. I'd never experienced it, but two girls had left school that year because they had gotten pregnant. I didn't want that to happen to Jezzie. I agonized over what to do. Finally I decided to stop them before Jezzie got more than she was asking for.
Murmuring the foulest curse words I knew through gritted teeth, and with knotted fists, I started toward the car. As I got closer, I realized that even with the darkened windows, I could still see in. I edged the rest of the way to the car with my back turned, and a hand (very obviously, I hoped) clasped tightly over my eyes. I banged on the window. The first try didn't work, as I could still hear the shock absorbers. I tried again, and kept banging loudly unti! I heard the squeaking stop. Then came the sound of panic-stricken muffled voices from inside the car. By this point, whether from nerves or the ridiculousness of the situation, I'll never know, I had a huge grin on my face. Fighting an overwhelming urge to laugh, I lifted my hand from the window and waved my most friendly wave. Then, with my eyes still covered, I made my way back inside.
When they came in, both of their faces were scarlet. I couldn't seem to get rid of my smile. Tony said good night and abruptly departed. Jezzie grabbed her bottle of wine, her purse, and said, “Let's go party.” I followed her to her car, and as she started the ignition, still smiling, I said, “Well?”
“Nope,” she said as we pealed away from the curb.
“Nope, what?” I said, starting to show some irritation.
“Nope, he's not the one for you!” she half-laughed, half-shouted. Seeing that I wasn't laughing, she became serious, and apologized with as much humility as I had ever seen her possess. I tried to be mad, but I couldn't. He was just a guy. She was my best friend. When I told her why I had come to knock on the window, she gave me her most sincere smile, and a look that said I was both foolish and blessed. Then she tousled my hair, turned up the stereo, and floored the gas pedal in an obvious effort to speed us to our next escapade.
Tony dropped out of my mind almost instantly. I still saw him during classes, but couldn't for the life of me remember what I ever saw in him. Still, the fact that he never mentioned Jezzie's name again, along with the wistful look he sometimes gave me, convinced me of one thing. I was thankful for the fear of God, and (especially) Mom.
—CILICIA A. YAKHLEF
tHe dAnce Class
Once again, my friend Sally and I have released our inner-crackpot crones. (Although I should record Sally’s objection to the word crone. Five years younger than me, she prefers to be known as a cronette.) Three weeks ago, she called with news of a Japanese modern dance troupe, Buto-Sha Tenkei, that was coming to Houston. She couldn't attend their performances, but the company's dance master would also conduct a master class.
“Wanna go?” she asked.
“A master class?” I demurred. “We're not dancers.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “You talked me into joining your dance exercise class. Besides, the class is for theater majors too.”
“Okay,” I said, “sign us up.” Too late it occurred to me that the closest we came to being drama majors was our mutual talent for hyperbole.
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