often?’
‘I dreamed it a few weeks ago,’ said Tully.
‘Is it still the same?’ asked Jen.
‘It’s a little different,’ answered Tully.
‘What’s the same?’
‘The rope,’ said Tully. ‘The rope is always around my neck. I fall off the tree and pray that this time my neck would break so I won’t have to suffocate.’
‘Does it?’
‘Never. I just can’t breathe.’
Jennifer was quiet. ‘What’s different?’
‘The setting. Last time, I was in the desert. In a musty palm tree. I guess I’m thinking about California.’
Jennifer touched Tully with her fingers. ‘Did you like your palm tree? You’ve never seen one.’
‘Its bark was rough like a pineapple’s. It was pretty cool.’
‘Was the rope tight?’
Tully could not see Jennifer’s face.
‘It’s always around my neck,’ said Tully slowly. ‘When I fall, it’s tight.’
‘Did you suffocate?’ Jennifer was barely audible.
‘Yes, and then I woke up.’
‘Have you ever…died in your dreams?’
‘No. I don’t think you can. I think when you die in your dreams, you die in real life. No, people don’t die in their dreams.’
‘Not even you?’
‘Not even me,’ said Tully.
‘What stops you?’ asked Jennifer faintly.
‘I wanted a drink of water,’ said Tully. ‘I was really thirsty. I did not want to die. I wanted to drink. And then I wanted to go swimming.’
After a while, Jennifer said, ‘Well, at least you are getting out of the house.’
Tully smiled thinly. ‘Yeah. I used to do it in front of my mother, in the living room, and Aunt Lena would say, “Tully, can you move a little? You’re blocking the TV,” and my mother wouldn’t say anything at all.’
Jennifer stared into the dark. ‘I remember thinking you were sick for dreaming that. I remember thinking that you didn’t really want to die, you were just screaming for help.’
‘Yeah, screaming,’ said Tully. ‘Obviously loudly.’
‘To people who didn’t care,’ said Jennifer.
‘Hey, wait a minute. You’re talking about my mother here,’ said Tully. ‘And we all know how deeply she cares.’
‘Yes,’ said Jennifer. ‘Deeply.’
The girls said nothing for a little while and then Tully asked, ‘Jennifer, why are you asking me this? We haven’t talked about this in years. Why now?’
‘We haven’t talked about a lot of things in years.’
‘Like?’
‘Like why you stopped coming around here. Around me and Jule.’
‘I thought I told you.’
‘Yes, but you didn’t tell me why. Why, Tully?’
Tully didn’t answer. She thought back to the time she was twelve. And thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen. 1973, 1974, 1975…Bicentennial. July 4, 1976, she went with Jennifer and Julie to watch the fireworks at Lake Shawnee. Tully had called up Jennifer. And Jennifer, as if nothing were wrong, invited her out, and Tully came. It wasn’t the first time in two and a half years the three of them got together, but it was the first time in two and a half years Tully did the calling.
Those years, thought Tully. It was as if I disappeared off the face of the earth. I did all the usual things; I went to school, I did my homework, I learned how to dance and made some new friends, and hung out and smoked, and danced in dance clubs and won some money to buy myself clothes. I occasionally slept and occasionally saw Jennifer and Julie. But I don’t myself know how I made it through those years. Certainly nothing worth repeating to this crazy person sitting next to me on the sofa.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘Forget it. Tell me, do you think you love Robin? Honestly.’
Tully looked over at Jennifer’s shadow in the dark room.
‘I don’t particularly want to lose him,’ she said. ‘Is that love?’
‘Tully, have you ever loved any of the boys you’ve been with?’
Tully did not hesitate. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t. Not one. Not even remotely.’
‘Is that why you don’t cry at the end of Love Story?’ asked Jennifer. ‘Because you can’t imagine what it would be like to love someone?’
Tully patted Jennifer’s leg. ‘Who said I don’t cry at the end of Love Story?’
‘Tull, I’ve never in twelve years seen you cry.’
‘I don’t,’ said Tully, a brittle rock inside her chest, ‘cry much.’
‘Not even in front of me?’
‘Obviously not,’ said Tully, then giving in a little. ‘I try sometimes to…imagine loving somebody like that.’
‘Like Oliver loves Jenny?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Tully, squeezing Jennifer’s leg. ‘That I understand. Because I love Jenny, too. I know what it’s like to love Jenny.’ Tully smiled. ‘I want to know what it’s like to love Oliver.’
Tully saw Jennifer press the tips of her fingers hard to her eyes and not let go, and Tully nearly wanted to press her own fingers to her eyes, to press out the image of Jennifer suppressing her demons.
They sat there silent and unmoving in the dark. Tick tock, tick tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.
‘I want to go home, Jen,’ said Tully.
‘Come upstairs with me,’ Jennifer said. ‘Please.’
Tully went upstairs. And gasped when she saw Jen’s room: usually immaculate, it was now an unbelievable mess.
‘My God, Jennifer! Who lives here now? Not you!’
‘Well, I’ve been too busy to clean up.’
‘Busy. Of course,’ said Tully.
They sat on the bed next to each other. Jennifer looked at her feet and then
