Dear Phoebe,
I tried out for the play, and Mr. Otis said he would talk to my dad if I get a part. Which I will. I know I will. They are going away (!) to a conference for two weeks and they said I could stay with Beryl. I’m so excited. I wish you could be here, but it will be way more fun to stay with her than in my own house. You are so lucky to have such good parents and a great grandmother. I want to be like her when I’m old, kind of eccentric (which I mean in a good way) and full of good ideas and wise and not all shriveled up like so many old women get. Why does that happen? The old ladies in the church are either so tiny a good wind would blow them away or they can’t walk very well and are bent over or they’re bitter. Beryl isn’t any of those things—she even has a boyfriend she says she’ll never marry. Do you think it’s because she’s an artist? Will it keep us young to be artists?
I’ll put this in the mail today.
Love,
Suze
October 8, 19—
Dear Suze,
Did you tear out some pages? It kinda looks like it. You can scribble things out if you want. I don’t really like it to have pages torn out. I think it might not be very good for the spine and other pages.
High school here is pretty much the same as junior high. I like my art class (painting) and English. We’re going to read OLD MAN AND THE SEA, by Ernest Hemingway, which looked boring but I read a couple of pages and it’s good. In art, I’m working with oils and Mr. Jain said I can come up with my own project because I’ve been taking all the art classes on the side. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. Anthony is in my class and we have lunch together, and also science, so at least I have a partner. It’s funny that both of us have a good friend who is a boy. I think Anthony likes me, but I don’t like him in that way. He did say that we should go to the homecoming dance together, just to mess around, so I’m going.
Amma is the best person in the world and I’m jealous that you can see her whenever you want and that you are staying with her for 2 weeks without me!
So happy for you and the play. Tell me what part you get.
Love,
Phoebe
October 15, 19—
I’m sorry I haven’t written very much. I’m just depressed. My parents had a gigantic fight and my dad left for a few days, and I was stuck with my mother who wanted to try to make everything good, but I hate her. She always nags my dad to be somebody he’s not, and she nags me, too, and not everything is supposed to be all perfect like she wants it. I’m even more sad now that I think of you with Amma, living the life I want to live, while I’m stuck here with two parents who hate each other.
October 17, 19—
Sorry. That was kind of a mean entry. I’m just sad. My dad is really sad, too, I can tell. I don’t know why they are fighting so much. I mean, they’ve always fought, but they make up and it’s okay, but lately, they have these big stupid fights and then they don’t talk to each other for days.
My mom left for a business trip yesterday, so my dad and I had pancakes at the pancake house, and my dad had four blueberry pancakes with syrup and bacon. He says he’s getting fat, and he shouldn’t eat them, but I like it when he’s happier. The pancakes made him smile for a few minutes, anyway.
So then he said, What would you think about living in Los Angeles? And of course I said no way. I can’t be that far from you and Amma and Joel and Blue Cove. Blue Cove is my place.
He nodded and said he thinks my mom might be happier in a bigger city, so she could grow her career. I asked about his career, and he didn’t really say anything. Where would he work in LA?
I will be so mad if we have to move. I’m so tired of being a kid! Life will be so much better when we grow up. We’ll have our apartment in New York City and I’ll be an artist and you’ll be a famous actress and we never have to deal with our parents again. Just Amma. And my dad.
Tell Joel I read DANDELION WINE and I loved it so much! Such a magical story. Maybe I could write to him, if you give me his address.
Love,
Phoebe
Suze’s Private Journal
November 9, 19—
Dear Diary,
I had to buy a new journal to write in, because this is just to you, not to Phoebe, because I want to keep this for myself, or maybe I’m worried about what she’ll think or . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to write this in the journal we trade back and forth. Too many chances that somebody will read it and I’ll get in trouble. So much trouble.
I am no longer a virgin. (!!!)
Today, Joel and I walked up to the house and took our blankets and picnic and spread everything out on the bedroom floor, which looks right out at the ocean, and finally, we took off all of our clothes and were completely naked with each other, looking and touching and kissing and, oh, doing all the things we’ve learned about each other’s bodies until now. I thought I would be scared, but his body, all long and lean and smooth skin, his thighs and belly, his hair falling around me like a black curtain, him wrapping up in my hair, tying us together like my hair was a cloak, all of it made me feel like I was melting, melting into him, him melting into me, like we were becoming a new creature. We did become a new creature, something made of love and kisses and hope and possibility.
Love,
Suze
PS We used a condom, but I’m going to ask Beryl to help me get some birth control pills.
Suze
All through the winter and spring, Joel and I learned each other’s bodies. Every second we could, we stole away to touch and kiss and look and try things—everything. It was thrilling and dangerous and fun and we were so much in love we lit the skies. I was incandescent, and Joel walked like he knew his worth.
Most of the time, we were in his bedroom while his mother worked. One late May day was hot and he took off his shirt and I took off mine and we took our time, kissing and touching, and laughing.
I will never know how long Joel’s mother stood there. Probably not long, considering, but we didn’t realize we were being observed until she clapped her hands hard and cried out his name. “Joel Minough, are you out of your mind?”
We broke apart, pulling the covers over us, backing away from her rage. At first that was all I could think of, getting away from her, but then she cried, “Her father will kill you. Not threaten, actually kill you.”
“Mom!” he began. “We’ve been careful, just like—”
“I didn’t mean with the daughter of the craziest man in the entire town.”
“Please don’t tell my dad!” I cried. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
She yanked the sheet, exposing us both, and I clapped my hands over my breasts, pulling my hair around for modesty. “Get up and get dressed now. You”—she pointed her finger—“go home right now.” Her angry gaze turned to Joel. “And you are going to your father’s house the second this semester is done. And if I catch the two of you within a half mile of each other in the meantime, I’ll do the beating myself.”
“Mom!” he protested.
She slammed out of the room, and we stared at each other for a long moment, both of us sensing that everything was lost. I flew to him and kissed him, and he held me hard. “Get dressed.”
So I did. And I walked home with the greatest sense of disaster I’d ever known. Even then I knew something worse was coming.
CURRENT DAY
Chapter Fourteen
Suze
Phoebe brings Jasmine over in the late afternoon on Friday. The weather is surprisingly mild, sunny and not at all windy. “Let’s go have a picnic at the beach,” I suggest.
“Cool.”