going now, okay, Mom?’
‘What time will you be back?’ asked Hedda.
Here it is, thought Tully. Again, deliberately trying to stump me, trying to make me pay, trying to make me make myself not go. How many times did I get stuck on this question because I couldn’t figure out what time she had in mind? There was no correct response.
Tully held her breath. It’s only a stupid party. Stupid party. Fuck you, I say, and I go upstairs and don’t go. I’ll see Jen tomorrow at St Mark’s. There’s never anyone good at these parties anyway. They are all so lame. Fuck you, Mother, I don’t want your fucking permission. I don’t want to go anymore.
Sweat collected under her armpits and trickled down her sides. But she did. She did want to go. And Hedda was waiting. Tully had to answer. The correct response was not dependent on any particular set time; there was no curfew time in the Makker household, there was only the barometer of Hedda’s mood that was certainly not helped by the goings-on in Tully’s bedroom a half hour ago.
Asking her mother when might be a good time was a bad idea. Hedda invariably said that if she, Tully, didn’t know at the age of (fill in the blank – Tully had heard this line from about seven) when a good time to come home was, then she certainly wasn’t responsible enough to go out.
Still, the question lingered in the air and needed to be answered. Hedda would not look at her. Hedda was waiting. Fortunately, Aunt Lena for once meddled to Tully’s rescue.
‘Will you get a ride, Tully?’
‘Yes, Jen’s mom will drive me home.’ That was a lie.
Tully looked at her watch. Six fifty-five. Come on. Come on. Come on.
‘Ten-thirty,’ said Hedda. ‘Now go.’
Tully descended down the porch steps and smelled the rotting leaves. Tomorrow I’ll have to clean them up, no doubt. She walked slowly and steadily down from the Grove to Kendall, and then, when she knew she was out of view, she ran.
September 1978
Out of breath, Tully rang the bell with little hope of being heard and then walked right in. Look at this place, she thought, and immediately some guy ran? fell? out of the hallway, spilling beer on her and himself, too. She backed away with distaste; he got up halfway to apologize, saw her, and smiled. ‘Tully!’ he called, ambling up to her and grabbing her waist. ‘Be-bop-a-lula, she’s my baby…’
‘That’s nice,’ she said, trying to get away from his arm.
‘I’m not letting you go till you dance with me, Tully. We’ve all been waiting for you! But I get the first dance, and “save the last dance for me!”’ he sang.
‘I will, I will,’ she said, prying his arm off her. ‘Let me go change first.’
‘“Don’t go changing/to try to please me…”’ he sang drunkenly, bending closer to her. Tully ducked underneath his arm and saw Lynn Mandolini watching her from the kitchen.
‘Hi, Mrs M.,’ Tully said when she got loose.
‘Hi, Tully,’ said Lynn. ‘Who was that?’
Tully rolled her eyes. ‘Who the hell knows? Never talked to him before in my life. Rick something or other.’
‘He seemed to know you pretty well.’
‘He seemed to be drunk pretty well,’ said Tully. ‘There’s liquor at this party?’
‘Not anymore,’ said Lynn. ‘What are they playing? Listen to this noise.’
Music. The Stones? Van Halen? Tully couldn’t tell for sure. Ah, yes, The Who. There was a stone in their shoe, apparently, and they couldn’t get to it.
‘Pretty loud, huh? I rang but no one heard.’
‘Who’d hear you? And have you lost your key?’
Tully smiled. ‘Never had a key.’
‘Well, by God,’ said Lynn cheerfully, ‘maybe it’s time you got one.’
Putting her Marlboro out, she looked Tully up and down.
‘Let me take your coat.’ Lynn stared at Tully a little closer. ‘You’re a bit late,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know.’ Pause. ‘I got held up.’
‘Everything all right, I hope?’
‘Oh, yes, fine, fine.’ Tully became acutely aware of her swollen, bluish face. How well was it hidden behind the cake powder? My nose feels twice its size, Tully thought, I wonder how it looks. ‘Where’s Jen?’
‘Upstairs. They’re destroying the house,’ said Lynn, lighting another cigarette and downing her Alabama Slammer. ‘Simply destroying.’
Tully patted Mrs Mandolini on the arm. ‘It’s a good thing an eighteenth birthday comes only once, ain’t it, eh?’ she said, leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. Rick something or other was still out in the hall, now milling around another more willing victim.
Jennifer had the master bedroom. Needing a bigger room for all her junk, she pleaded and pleaded with her parents until they gave in, or so Jennifer had said. Tully and Julie postulated an entirely different scenario. Tully said that Jennifer probably mentioned it once at supper, and Lynn and Tony immediately started clearing out of their master bedroom.
Upstairs, the noise was less deafening. Again, beer cans, plastic glasses, cigarette butts. The Mandolinis really should’ve waited to install a new carpet, Tully thought. And what a nice clean cream color it used to be, too.
Five or six people stood in the hall, shouting a conversation at each other. They nodded to Tully; she nodded back and pushed her way into Jennifer’s bedroom.
‘Hi, Tull,’ said Jennifer. Tully grunted, looking around the room. Jennifer peered into Tully’s face and at Tully’s clothes. ‘Hey, you okay?’
‘Great,’ Tully said. ‘Couldn’t be better.’ She nodded hello to Julie and Tom, who were sitting on the love seat. But Tully wasn’t that interested in her friends just then. Instead, her eyes were on someone in the room she didn’t know. A young dark boy, nearly a man, very well groomed, who looked up at Tully when she walked in. Unfortunately, there was some bimbo on his lap, marring the otherwise impressive view. Tully would have to ask Jennifer about him when she had a chance. But right now she needed to go and get changed. Trying to look un-selfconscious, Tully sauntered over to the drinks bureau.
‘Mmm, nice,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘I haven’t seen so much Coke and lemonade in a long time.’
‘You know, we are not allowed to drink if we’re not eighteen,’ said Tom from the couch.
‘Really?’ said Tully, irritated
