Yes, something was different. Earlier this summer, ever since we got to New York, Valentine had looked triumphant, with her wild red curls and green eyeliner and the way she was always striking poses in front of the mirror. But for some reason, this morning she looked more serious than she had before. Some goofy life force that used to make her my older sister, my Val, some spring in her step was missing. Now I could tell she would always and forever be Valentine.
Without speaking a word, she went and sat in front of the antique looking glass and picked up one of Aunt Theo’s good stiff-bristled English hairbrushes. She started brushing out her hair with slow, luxurious strokes. There was a queer, far-off look in her eyes.
I realized I’d been staring at her for too long, and I tried to go back to sleep. Not that I was tired at all! As a matter of fact, I’d never felt quite so awake in my whole life. My whole body was tingling, was alive. It was funny, but it was almost as though what had happened to my sister had happened to me. I wanted to ask her all about it; I wanted her to tell me what it might be like a couple of years later when I …
I wanted to tell her that it was going to be all right. I wanted her to tell me that she was still all right.
“Where did you get those grass stains?” I asked, pointing at her dress.
But she just sat there brushing her magnificent crown of long red hair and refused to answer me.
“Wait a minute. You didn’t sleep outdoors, did you?”
That sounded dangerous. Obviously annoyed with me, Valentine put down the hairbrush.
“Oh my God, Franny, no. We slept at his place. But first we just kissed outside—a little.” For the first time that morning, she blushed.
“Just wait till Clover finds out,” I said, sitting up.
“Oh, Franny, Franny, you went ahead and told her, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t help it, Val, because—” It all spilled out, the story of the taxi ride, my having to wake up Clover to pay the fare, everything. Well, okay, not everything; I left out the part about the hot milk, because I decided at the last minute that that made me sound like a baby.
“But I thought they took cards! I asked Julian as you were getting in the cab, and he said, yes definitely, they have to. Oh, Franny, I would never have let you get in that cab if I’d thought you wouldn’t be able to pay for it. Honest,” swore Valentine.
16
Meet Me Under the Clock
I went to bed not believing her, or pretending not to, because some fights are like that: you’re just not quite ready to forgive.
But then the next day we made up. Everything is always better in the morning, and I found that I couldn’t stay mad at her for long. She was my older sister—my Valentine—and I still loved her.
Meanwhile, it had been a while since I’d heard from Aunt Theo, so I wrote her a letter, thanking her for my new clothes from Bergdorf’s and telling her a bit about my meeting with Leander. I thought it was a terrific letter and full of interesting details, but she never replied.
The days were getting shorter, and even during the daytime the sun was a little more gentle and my dresses had started to wilt, the cream-colored sharkskin didn’t hang quite so crisply anymore. When I got back to San Francisco, I’d have Mom take it to the drycleaner. And then the fogs would roll in, and I’d put that dress away, not to be worn until next year.
During the last couple of weeks in New York, I had become a regular at beautiful, bright green Caffe Reggio on MacDougal Street, dining on the sidewalk alone, which made me feel very sophisticated. (Even though the café wasn’t actually that far away from Aunt Theo’s apartment! Still, I liked to pretend that it was and that nobody could find me.) I had moved on from cappuccino to espresso, which tasted thrilling and almost sinister. I picked up a pair of sunglasses at that vintage store in the Village Clover took us to when we first got to New York. They were white with black cat-eye tips, and I loved the way they made me feel when I sat at Caffe Reggio alone. Between the sunglasses and my new haircut and the espresso, I felt like I could do anything, and nothing would ever stop me.
I also noticed that boys were starting to look at me. It wasn’t every man like the way it was with Valentine, but still, there were beginning to be some. No one ever looked at me when we first got to New York, when my hair was mousy and long. I guess I must be growing. I guess I must look older now.
One afternoon when I was at the apartment getting ready to leave, I smelled all these delicious scents drifting down the staircase from the private bath upstairs. And you know something? Suddenly I got a little annoyed, because I figured Val must be up there primping for a date with Julian, and it all came back to me—I mean the way she abandoned me that night after the dinner, standing there on Riverside Drive, her violet eyes going all velvety dark purple in the moonlight. (I forgave her, as you know. But some things you just can’t help but remember.)
Not that I could place the exact scent that was perfuming the whole apartment today. But I just knew it was something soft, and incredibly feminine …
“Oh, hi, Franny! I didn’t know you were home.”