Tully

Tully supposed that if she had a hunk like that, she would be throwing lethal glances at everybody, too. Tully was eager to ask Jennifer about him, but Jennifer had not stopped talking to her blond, who by now seemed quite drunk (how come he has a full beer bottle in his hand at all times while the rest of us are still nursing the beer we latched on to at seven?) and was leaning over her, his arm strapped around Jennifer’s neck. Her face, usually devoid of expression, tonight was a happy face. Tully saw it and felt a stab of pleasure and light envy. She looked at the blond’s face and immediately felt something else, too – anxiety, small and sharp.

For there was no happiness in the blond boy’s face; only beer.

Tully sought Julie out with her eyes and found her talking heatedly to a group of people, including Tom. Probably about whether or not the Americans should have been helping the French in Vietnam in the first place, thought Tully.

Minutes passed. Tully did not move from the couch. The boy got up and offered his girl another drink. She nodded. He was about to walk away, but then moved carefully toward Tully and asked if he could get her anything.

Good voice, she thought. ‘Oh, yes, please, a Bud, please, if you can find it.’

‘If that’s what you want, I will find it,’ he said.

He has a good, deep male voice, Tully thought; so what if he’s as corny as the rest of them?

Sitting stonily with hands firmly clasped to her knees, the mouse shot Tully another poisoned-arrow glare. Tully smirked and settled back on the couch, uncrossed and crossed her bare legs, one arm on the arm of the sofa, one arm on its back. Tully sat in this pose until the boy came back, handed her a beer, and sat next to her.

‘Thanks,’ said Tully, and smiled. He smiled back politely.

‘Yeah,’ said the girl. ‘Thanks, Robin.’

Robin! That’s his name! That doesn’t sound too Italian. Tully’s thoughts were interrupted by a guy perching himself on her lap, asking her to dance. Tully gave him a hearty push and he fell off, laughing hysterically, and crawled away. Under no circumstances was she about to get up from the couch. Tully could’ve gotten up and danced – she had wanted to at one time – but here, in this smoke-filled, music-filled, people-filled house, she had found what she had come for.

‘Tully!’ Jennifer yelled in Tully’s ear, crouching beside her. ‘Why are you sitting here all alone? Guys are complaining that you’re not dancing!’

‘I’m not alone!’ yelled back Tully, grinning.

‘Why are you sitting here by yourself, then?’

‘I’m not sitting here by myself!’

Jennifer looked over to Robin and his mouse. ‘Tully, uh-uh! Absolutely not! He is taken!’

‘Ohhhh. Jennifer! Pooh! I want you to be a good host and introduce me to him.’

‘Tully, he is taken.’

‘Be a good host, will ya, Jen?’ said Tully into Jennifer’s ear. ‘Just introduce me.’ And she stared intently into Jennifer’s open face. Jennifer sighed.

‘Robin,’ she said, standing up and walking over to him. ‘I don’t think you know Tully. Robin, this is Tully. Gail, you must know Tully from school. Are you in any of the same classes?’

‘No,’ said Gail. ‘We’ve never met, but I have certainly heard of Tully. Tully Makker, right?’

‘Well, that’s funny,’ said Tully. ‘Because I have never heard of you.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Robin.

‘Robin’s father,’ Jennifer continued, ‘is an old friend of my father’s. In fact, my dad started out working for your dad, right?’

‘Right,’ said Robin. ‘A number of years back.’

Tully stretched out her hard, small hand to Robin, who took it into his hard, wide hand. Tully did not offer her hand to Gail, who sat back and said nothing.

‘Jennifer! Come and dance with me, Jennifer!’ boomed a guy’s voice behind them, and Jennifer smiled into a broad, flushed, sloshed face. Pulling him by his arm, Jennifer said happily, dizzily, ‘Tully, Robin, Gail, this is Jack Pendel.’

And Jack Pendel pumped Robin’s hand, hard, without looking at him, too busy bending down to peer into Tully’s face. In his bloodshot, barely focused eyes, Tully saw a puzzling ray of a sober thought, a clean expression of…Tully couldn’t tell what, but she stretched out her hand, and Jack took it, held it, and said, ‘So you are Jen’s friend Tully,’ and then, not letting go, Jack bent – nearly fell – on top of her and pressed his beery wet lips to her hand. It was a drunken, funny gesture, and Tully had to push him back to help him straighten up. They all laughed. Jennifer and Jack left to dance, while Robin turned to Tully.

‘So how do you know Jennifer?’ he asked, looking straight at her.

‘We’ve known each other since we were five,’ said Tully.

‘Wow,’ said Robin. ‘I don’t think I know anyone that long, except my family.’

‘Well, there you go,’ said Tully. Then she pointed to Julie fifteen feet away. ‘I’ve known her since I was five, too.’

‘Are the three of you friends?’ asked Robin.

‘Best friends,’ said Tully.

Robin leaned over. ‘Almost like they’re your family, huh?’ he said.

‘Almost,’ said Tully. Robin smiled. She smiled back.

‘Have you lived in Topeka all your life?’ Robin asked.

She nodded. ‘I did go on a trip to Lawrence once or twice,’ she said. ‘You live in Topeka?’

‘Uh-uh. Manhattan,’ he said, looking at her face and neck. ‘You been to Manhattan?’

Tully glanced at her watch. Almost time. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said. ‘Once or twice.’

‘How far do you live from Jen?’ Robin inquired.

‘Oh, a few miles.’

‘Do you have a car?’

‘No, I walk it,’ she replied. ‘I walk it all the time. It’s no big deal.’ He was nearly caught. Like any good salesman, Tully knew by heart Dale Carnegie’s Five Rules of Selling: Attention, Interest, Conviction, Desire, Close. This guy was already attentive, interested, convinced, and desired.

He paused. ‘You walking home tonight?’

‘Yeah, of course. In fact, I kind of gotta go now.’ She saw his expression and said, ‘Told my mom I’d be home early. She’s sick.’

He was thoughtful; she held her breath.

‘Want a ride home?’

She breathed out. Closed.

‘Oh, sure, if it’s no trouble, that’d be great, thanks.’