the Publisher
Ah Life,
I would have been a pleasant thing to have About the house when I was grown If thou hadst left my little joys alone!
Edna St Vincent Millay
Mama’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama’s gonna put all of her fears into you
Roger Waters
September 28, 1978
One warm September afternoon, Tully, Jennifer, and Julie sat around a kitchen table in a house on a street named Sunset Court.
‘Tully, go home,’ said Jennifer Mandolini. ‘I don’t want you at my party looking like this.’ She pointed to Tully’s face.
Tully Makker ignored her, busy stirring the French onion dip she made rarely but well. ‘One more taste and I’m out of here,’ she said. But the Mandolini kitchen smelled of apple strudel, while at home the kitchen smelled nothing like apple strudel. Tully was sitting at the table with her feet up on Julie’s lap, and Tully was comfortable.
Jennifer reached over and took the dip away from Tully. ‘One more taste and there’ll be nothing left.’
Tully watched her put the dip on the kitchen counter and sighed. Jen was right. It really was time to go.
Turning back to Tully, Jennifer added almost apologetically, ‘We’ll have nothing for the guests, right, Jule?’
‘Right, Jen,’ agreed Julie Martinez, sipping her Coke.
Tully reluctantly got up from the table, strolled over to the kitchen counter, and picked up her onion dip. ‘Jennifer, they’re going to be much too busy dancing with you to have dip,’ she said, running her finger around the rim of the bowl. She began to hum ‘Hotel California.’
Jennifer wrested the bowl away. ‘Makker, it’s five o’clock!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve got a two-mile walk home,’ she said, getting Glad Wrap and covering the dip, ‘and a two-mile walk back. And I don’t have wheels yet to cart your ass around.’ She put the dip in the fridge. ‘Get the hell out of here. Go put your face on.’ And then to Julie, ‘Julie, why won’t she leave?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Julie. ‘She’s never liked it here before.’
‘Girls, girls,’ said Tully. ‘You can leave me alone now, I’m on my way.’ Tully did not go, however; quite the opposite: she walked back to the table, sat down, and put her feet up on a chair.
Jennifer perched down next to her. ‘Go,’ Jennifer said, but gentler. ‘I don’t want you to be late, that’s all.’
Tully didn’t move. ‘And it’s only three miles there and back.’
‘Get out of here,’ repeated Jennifer, sighing with exasperation.
Tully reached around Jennifer for the tube of Pringles. It had been a good Saturday afternoon. Quiet. Fun. Warm.
‘Listen, Mandolini,’ Tully said, handing Jennifer a potato chip. ‘You still haven’t told me how many people are going to be here tonight.’
‘Thirty,’ replied Jennifer, taking the chip, getting up, and opening the kitchen door. ‘And I did tell you.’
‘Thirty,’ echoed Julie cheerfully. ‘Half of them football players.’
Licking the salt off her lips, Tully eyed Jennifer. ‘Oh, Jen?’ she said. ‘By the way, how is cheerleading?’
‘Good, okay, thank you for asking,’ said Jennifer, standing by the door.
The breeze felt good on Tully’s arms. ‘Ahh,’ she intoned, glancing meaningfully at Julie but trying to keep a poker face. ‘Ever get to talk to any of the football players?’
‘Not often,’ said Jennifer, walking over to the sink. ‘Every once in a while they come around and shout obscenities at us.’ Tully stared at Jennifer’s back.
‘So you don’t talk to any football players in particular?’
‘No, not really,’ said Jennifer, carefully ripping off a paper towel and wetting it.
Julie cleared her throat and said, ‘Jen, isn’t your locker right next to a guy who looks just like a football player?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Jennifer, not turning around. ‘I guess.’ And she began to wipe up the counter in earnest, with her back to the kitchen table.
Tully and Julie exchanged a look.
‘Yeah,’ said Tully, getting up and walking over to Jennifer. ‘I do recall seeing you talk to some guy who wears those sexy football jerseys with a number on the back. What’s his number, Jule?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Julie.
‘Maybe sixty-nine?’ offered Tully, trying to peek at Jennifer’s face.
Jennifer didn’t answer, just pushed Tully away with her wet hand.
‘Jule?’ asked Tully. ‘What does he look like again?’
‘Kind of blond?’ said Julie.
‘Kind of tall?’ said Tully.
‘Always wears Levi’s?’ said Julie.
‘With stubble?’ said Tully.
‘Levi’s with stubble?’ said Jennifer, compulsively wiping the stove-top. Tully and Julie ignored her.
‘Really built?’ Tully went on.
‘And I heard he’s really smart, too,’ added Julie, getting up and laughing silently into her hands.
‘Julie!’ said Tully. ‘Smart? I heard he can spell his name but has a little trouble with his address. I guess that’s smart for a High Trojan.’
Julie shook her head. ‘Well, if Jen can be valedictorian and cheerleader, why can’t he be smart and a football player?’
Jennifer swirled past Tully to the closet and got Tully’s bag.
It was a warm and sunny early evening. Tully thought Jennifer looked warm and sunny, too, wearing a yellow tank top with white cotton shorts. She is so pretty, thought Tully. Does she even know? She’s got these nice thin legs and those
