Tully

2

Robin finally called Gail. Her voice was like ice, and he was not surprised. His adoptive mother was as warm as the noon summer sun, but Gail was nothing like his mother. Robin apologized to Gail, saying he had never misled her; they were never in any way serious. Gail asked him if he actually thought she would stand, could stand him seeing both of them at the same time. Robin was surprised at this: he had no intention of seeing Gail at all. But to her he said, ‘No, of course. I understand. I could never stand being two-timed, either. I hope we can still be friends.’

The following Sunday, Robin took Tully to Red Lobster with Jennifer’s help. They ate well. Tully wanted to know if he had said anything to Gail, who had been slithering past her in school like an old cobra.

‘I swear, I never saw her before in my life,’ Tully said. ‘And this week, I see her every day and she walks past me and hisses venom in my direction. You haven’t talked to her, have you?’

‘I have,’ Robin replied, ‘but what’s there to say?’

‘Watch out,’ said Tully. ‘Or she’ll start telling you things about me.’

Robin smiled. ‘What kind of things?’

‘Oh, all sorts of things of a very sordid nature.’

‘All damnable lies?’ he wanted to know.

‘Of course not,’ said Tully. ‘But of a very sordid nature.’

Robin suggested that she tell him about these things herself, but Tully declined politely, saying only that she used to dance well, and for a while everyone knew it.

‘Used to? Have you stopped?’ he asked.

Tully nodded. ‘I haven’t stopped, I’ve just…cut down.’

‘How is your mother?’ Robin wanted to know.

‘Splendid,’ said Tully.

‘Have you always gotten on so well with your mother?’

‘Yes,’ said Tully with mock cheeriness. ‘We have a very special relationship.’

In the parking lot of Red Lobster, Robin kissed her and Tully put her hand on the back of his head, and he touched her hair and felt that old familiar stirring. They drove out to Lake Shawnee and quickly and efficiently had sex again. The lake was gray and beautiful; the trees had shed many of their leaves; it was windy; but Robin didn’t notice the lake much, so busy was he making love to Tully. Afterwards, Robin wanted to touch her, to do something for her; Tully refused. ‘Not necessary,’ she said evenly.

‘But I want to,’ persisted Robin.

‘I don’t,’ replied Tully.

‘You’re really something,’ he said as they were driving away from the lake. ‘I just can’t figure you out.’

‘What’s to figure out?’ asked Tully. ‘I’m an open book.’

‘Yeah, and I’m your knight in shining armor,’ said Robin.

3

‘You wanna go for a drive?’ Jennifer asked Tully one Sunday on the way back to the Grove.

‘Yeah, sure,’ replied Tully, looking at her friend. It had been three weeks since Jennifer got her car and this was Tully’s first invitation for a drive. The girls usually sat in Jen’s kitchen and looked over college catalogs. Twice Jennifer let Tully get behind the wheel. In the driveway.

‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Jennifer.

‘California.’ Tully smiled. ‘But I’ll settle for Texas Street.’

Jennifer smiled back. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve been there,’ she said.

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Tully, getting comfortable in the seat. ‘I go there all the time.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Jennifer. ‘It’s four miles away from you. How do you get there?’

‘I walk,’ said Tully, and then, seeing Jennifer’s expression, added, ‘It’s worth it, to see it.’

The girls drove to Texas Street, a short narrow road between the Topeka Country Club and Big Shunga Park. The southwestern end of Texas Street curved downward to a dead end, but if they walked through the trees, they came out to the Shunga Park fields. That’s how Jennifer and Tully found Texas Street the very first time, five years ago. They were still playing softball then, and they left a game early – their team was losing 2-17 – and wandered into the woods, coming out onto Texas Street.

The oaks stood ancient and tall on opposite sides of the street and their branches intertwined in the middle, casting Texas Street in perpetual shadow through which glimmers of sunshine struggled.

Tully and Jennifer parked near the dead end of the street, opposite ‘their’ house. They sat on the Camaro’s warm hood for a long time, not speaking.

‘Still looks magnificent, doesn’t it?’ said Tully finally.

‘Yeah,’ said Jennifer. ‘Sure does.’

‘What are you looking wistful about?’ said Tully. ‘You who live in a master bedroom on Sunset Court.’

‘Look at that porch,’ said Jennifer. ‘Have you even seen a porch that size?’

‘Yeah,’ said Tully. ‘On Tara.’

‘I think Tara’s was smaller,’ said Jennifer, jumping off the hood. ‘Come on Scarlett, let’s go.’

Tully didn’t move. ‘I wonder what the houses are like in Palo Alto.’

‘Who cares?’ said Jen. ‘We’re going to live under the shadow of the El Palo Alto, under its leaves and thousand-year-old branches. We won’t need a house.’

‘Still, though,’ mused Tully. ‘I wouldn’t mind living in this house.’

‘Who would?’ said Jennifer, looking at its four wide white columns. ‘It needs paint,’ she said. ‘Imagine having a house like that and not painting it every year. Let’s go.’

On the way back, Tully looked over at Jennifer and said, ‘Jen, you okay?’

‘Great,’ said Jennifer.

‘How’s cheerleading going?’

‘Uh, you know.’

‘I don’t know. How are things?’