The Second Summer of the Sisterhood (33 page)

“Jeez!” she shouted, throwing the tweezers at the wall.

This call came from Lena’s house. Was Lena home? Carmen snatched the phone from its holder.

“Lena!”

“No, it’s Effie.” Effie was whispering.

“You’re home?”

“Yeah, like an hour ago.”

“How’s Lena?”

Carmen could feel her heart beating in her temples. Lena was home. Lena would need her. Well, that was that. She hoped Paul and Porter would enjoy each other’s company.

Effie paused. “Mmmmm. Can’t tell.”

“Is she walking? Is she talking?”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes walking, no talking.”

“Oh. I’ll come right over.”

“No, you need to take her out.”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” Effie said. “That’s what she needs.”

“Ooookay. You sure about that?” Effie was a boss and Carmen was a boss. They didn’t always mix.

“Yes. Half her room is covered with letters. The other half with pictures. That’s how it is. We left in a hurry. You need to take her out and distract her, and I need to put all that stuff away. Like down the garbage disposal. Ha ha.”

Carmen was silent. Effie never cared if nobody else laughed at her jokes.

“Did you talk to Tibby?” Carmen asked.

“Not home.”

“Okay, Ef. I’ll be over to pick her up in fifteen minutes.” Carmen smacked the phone down.

She shook her head as she raced around her room, stuffing her things into her purse. She would just have to bring Lena to Dizzy’s Grill also. That was the only thing to do.

And anyway, crazy Carmen’s date with two guys at the same time would be nothing if not distracting.

A long time afterward, Carmen tried to replay every nuance of that strange meeting. She wanted to pinpoint exactly when it happened. How it happened. Why it happened. Whether it happened.

Carmen was wearing the Pants. She was holding hands with Lena. Lena was wearing soft flannel drawstring pants and a shirt. From three feet away it looked like a regular white T-shirt, straight and simple. But if you got closer, it had this very small ruffle running along the neckline. It had struck Carmen right away. The T-shirt was classic Lena, but the ruffle was not.

Lena looked particularly thin. She was thin from torment, but Carmen couldn’t help envy it anyway. Lena’s eyes were large and light-filled and seemed to be focused on some vague middle distance, not here, not there. She blinked and looked around the restaurant like a newborn. Her skin seemed tender and raw, and her eyes seemed as if they were new to seeing. And Carmen felt bad dragging her into this bustling, smoky, overstimulating scene. It was no place for a newborn.

Carmen sat Lena down at the front of the restaurant, the waiting part. She strode into the dining room, and found Porter and Paul each waiting for her at his own table. First she went to Porter. He stood up and smiled upon seeing her.

“Hi.” He kissed her on the lips, but she was too distracted to analyze it.

“Hey, listen. This night has gotten sort of complicated.” She grimaced apologetically. “My friend—well, my stepbrother actually—missed his train tonight and he has nowhere to go so I invited him to come along.” Tentatively she touched her jaw. “Is that okay?”

He gave her a look that said,
Does it matter if it’s okay?

“And also.” Carmen rushed right along. “My friend Lena? You know her. She got back from Greece tonight and she’s kind of . . . well, a disaster, actually,” Carmen said, lowering her voice, “and I can’t leave her alone, so she’s here too.” Carmen raised her shoulders plaintively. “Sorry.”

Porter nodded. Carmen figured there wasn’t much she could do at this point to surprise or disappoint him.

By this time, Paul had spotted her. She went to him. “Hi. Come on over.”

He followed.

“Porter, this is Paul. Paul, this is Porter,” she said when they were within earshot.

“Hey.” Porter raised one hand like an Indian chief.

She seemed to be arranging a lot of people’s lives this evening. She pointed to the table where Porter had been sitting. “We can all fit here, right?”

Porter shrugged. “Sure.”

“Okay. Sit. I’ll go get Lena.”

Paul was looking a little shell-shocked. He wasn’t very social. He was probably wishing he’d stayed on a bench at Union Station.

On a chair at the front, Lena was watching her hands as the world spun around her. “Len?”

She looked up.

“Sorry to drag you around tonight, but we’re having dinner with two guys you don’t know.” What was the use of sugar-coating it? If Lena was going to mutiny, now was the time.

Instead of crawling under a chair, as Carmen half expected, Lena got up and followed obediently. This worried Carmen more than the all-out kick-and-scream scenario.

The two of them were walking toward the table. It was around then that it happened. For some reason, Paul and Porter were sitting on the same side of the table, facing the girls as they walked over. It looked sort of comical, in a way, these two very large boys sitting side by side. She couldn’t exactly say how Porter looked at the time, because she was watching Paul.

This was when the clocks stopped and the place got quiet and the colors faded into sepia. The air felt nostalgic, even though nothing had happened yet.

Paul looked at Lena. Millions of boys had looked at Lena, but no one had ever looked at her like that.

That was one of the main things Carmen wondered about later. That look of Paul’s. How could a look on a face contain so many things?

Porter stood up. Paul stood up. They all sat down. Carmen said things. Porter said things. The waiter appeared and said things. It all seemed random and irrelevant, because something important was happening.

Paul and Lena, Lena and Paul. They didn’t even smile at each other or say anything. Maybe they didn’t even realize something was happening, but Carmen did. She just knew it.

Suddenly, in the middle of the cozy four-top, a chasm opened. On one side were the world and the restaurant and all the regular people like Porter and Carmen. On the other side were Paul and Lena. As intensely alert as she was, Carmen didn’t feel like she could look at them or listen to them. She didn’t belong there, on the other side.

“Do you want to share the spicy chicken wings?” Porter asked her amiably.

Carmen felt like crying.

These were the Love Pants! They were! There was pure, transforming magic around them. But it wasn’t for her! It was never for her.

She was bad at love. She loved too hard.

Carmen’s imagination was starting to branch out in dangerous directions. Lena would become the center of Paul’s world. She could just see it. He wouldn’t care about Carmen anymore. He wouldn’t listen carefully to all the stupid things she said.

And what about Lena? What would that do to their friendship? To the Sisterhood? Where was this going to leave Carmen?

Anxiety was brewing somewhere down there, filling her stomach with acid, tangling up her intestines.

What was it about her and double dates? Why did Carmen have to sit on the sidelines of love when it was so close? Why did she end up losing instead of gaining?

She thought about her mother and David just then. He’d arrived at the apartment earlier that evening with bouquets of roses for both Christina and Carmen. Carmen had mostly appreciated the gesture because it had made her mom so supremely happy. David had known the word Carmen was stuck on in her crossword puzzle (Japanese dog, five letters, starting with
a
). More important, though, had been the radiance of her mother’s face, even as she’d tried to appear rational. That wasn’t losing. That was gaining.

Over in the world of Lena and Paul, Paul murmured something to Lena. Lena looked down at the table shyly, but when she looked up again, she had a smile as lovely as any Carmen had ever seen her wear. Some things had changed with Lena.

Carmen could ignore what she was seeing. She could feel threatened and try to stomp on it before it could dig roots.

Or maybe she could figure that Lena and Paul were two of the people she loved best on the planet, and they each deserved the love of someone as worthy as the other.

Suddenly Carmen’s head snapped up. “Lena?”

Lena seemed to travel many miles to reach her.

“Yes?”

“Can you come with me for just a second?”

Both Paul and Lena seemed to look at her in wonderment at how she could be so loud and encroaching. “Just a second, I promise,” Carmen added.

Once in the bathroom, Carmen unbuttoned the Pants. She shed them quickly. “Give me yours and take these, okay?”

“Why are you doing this?” Lena asked.

“Because I know it is going to be an important night for you.” Carmen’s heart was pounding.

“How do you know?” Lena looked almost scared.

Carmen pressed her palm to her heart. “I just do. I know it.”

Lena fixed her wide eyes on Carmen’s. “Important how? How do you mean?”

Carmen cocked her head. “Len. If you don’t know, you’ll know soon. You’ve been through a lot this summer. It could take a while.”

Lena looked confused. She wasn’t going to argue. She pulled the Pants on. The air seemed to glimmer with them.

Thank God Lena wore drawstring pants tonight,
Carmen thought, pulling them on and tying them quickly.

Lena was already floating forward, through the door and out into the restaurant. Watching Lena walk to Paul, Carmen sensed it was one of those strange points in time when the world unfolds. Maybe Carmen was the only one who could see it.

This is how it is going to be,
Carmen thought. And she’d find a way to love love, however it appeared.

Lena lay in her bed at home. As usual, she was thinking restlessly about a boy. But tonight, strangely enough, the boy in question wasn’t the usual one. This new one was taller and squarer and so earnest in the eyes. The way he looked at her, it felt like he could see everything, but would only take what she was ready to give. He wasn’t married. He hadn’t gotten anybody pregnant, so far as she knew.

Somehow or other, in the space of about ninety seconds, she’d let go of the trapeze she was flying on, hovered in heart-stopping midair, and grabbed a trapeze flying in the opposite direction.

Since when had she become a highflyer? She had to wonder. How had she gone from an emotional hermit to a trapeze artist?

She was concerned for her safety.

She called Tibby. She hadn’t spoken to her since she’d gotten home, and she felt like being out loud.

“Tib, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she moaned, unsure whether her moan was happy or sad. Up on the high swing, the two feelings seemed to merge, identical in their intensity.

“What is it, Len?” Tibby said as tenderly as Tibby ever said anything.

“I think I have that disease where your heart swells up.”

“Well,” Tibby said philosophically, “I guess I would say, Better a swollen heart than a shrunken one.”

When Carmen walked in the door after dropping Lena off, she heard the phone ringing. She answered it in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Carmen, it’s Porter.”

“Hey,” she said, surprised.

“Listen, I give up. I just wanted you to know that. A person can only take so much.”

Carmen swallowed hard. For some reason, she felt her heart beating in all the wrong parts of her body. “Um, what do you mean?” she said timidly, dishonestly. She didn’t
want
to know what he meant, but that didn’t mean she didn’t.

Porter let out a breath. “I’ll be honest. I’ve had a huge crush on you for, like, two years. I was psyched to get together with you this summer. I really hoped it could work out, but Jesus, Carmen, how many times can you lead a guy on?”

Porter paused, giving her an opportunity to defend herself, but she was so stunned she couldn’t activate her tongue. It just lolled there unhelpfully in her mouth.

“I was confused when you kept calling. When we went out, I could tell you weren’t that into it, but then you’d call me again.” He didn’t sound irritable. He sounded resigned. “So anyway, I have officially given up. I can act like an idiot for only so long.”

In her gaping, sputtering silence it began to dawn on Carmen that Porter was not the person she’d thought he was. Then again, had she thought at all, for even a second, about
what
kind of person he was? She had considered his objective boyfriend merit at great length, but not that he had actual feelings or that, God forbid, he would talk about them. He was a boy, a potential Boyfriend, an enviable accessory, much like a very good handbag.

Wasn’t he?

“I know you were distracted by the whole thing with your mom, and I understand that. But I thought maybe after it was fixed up, we could hang out finally.”

No, he wasn’t.

She felt her cheeks burning. She had been so colossally off base about him she almost had to laugh.

“Porter?” she said. His name felt different to her now. She suddenly felt as if she might be talking to a friend.

“Yeah?”

“I can act like an idiot for a lot longer than you.”

He laughed, albeit heavily.

They hadn’t laughed together, she realized. She hadn’t given him much cause to.

“I don’t know what to say for myself except that I didn’t realize that you are a real person,” she said honestly.

“What did you think I was?”

“God . . . I don’t know. A penguin?”

He laughed a little more and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“I was wrong, though.”

“I’m not a penguin?”

“No.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She took a long, sad breath.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, wishing she didn’t so often put herself in the position of owing people large and sincere apologies.

“Accepted,” he said easily.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You take care, Carmen.” His voice was intimate. It was nice.

“Thanks,” she said again, even more quietly, and she heard him hang up.

As she put the phone down, she knew she’d gotten what she deserved. And the sick thing was, she could imagine for the first time what it might feel like to really like him.