Page 74 of Summer of '69
Jessie had reddened.
“Facts of life,” Blair said.
This morning, after Exalta excuses herself to get dressed before they leave for the club, Blair touches Jessie’s shoulder. “You and me, this afternoon,” she says. “Buttner’s.”
For breakfast, Blair eats a banana with peanut butter, then she cleans up everyone’s dishes and sets a glass of orange juice and a bowl of lightly sugared strawberries at her mother’s place. She heads back upstairs and changes the sheets on her bed for the first time since she’s arrived. She loves the feeling of fresh, clean sheets; the ones she has chosen are white with sprigs of lavender printed on them. When the bed is made and the pillows plumped, Blair takes the dirty sheets down to the washing machine, then sets up the clothesline in the yard. It’s a glorious day and she wants nothing more than to sit on the steps and raise her face to the sun, but there’s no time to waste. She has a lot to accomplish.
She goes upstairs to pack her bag for the hospital: a nightgown she abandoned four months ago that she hopes will fit once the twins are born, slippers, hairbrush, perfume, curlers, toothbrush, compact, and a copy of Dr. Spock that she has yet to even crack open.
She straightens her room, dusts the top of the dresser, then pulls the vacuum out of the hall closet. She runs the sweeper over the wood floors and the braided rug.
She goes downstairs, pulls the linens out of the washing machine, and hangs them on the line. She hears Exalta and Jessie arrive home.Perfect timing!she thinks. She’ll take Jessie to Buttner’s and then to the Charcoal Galley to celebrate her entry into womanhood.
Blair intercepts Jessie as she’s striding across the backyard to Little Fair. “Hey, get changed, we’re going to Buttner’s then out to lunch.”
“Okay,” Jessie says. She looks a little happier than she did that morning, but then Blair hears voices and Jessie’s expression collapses like a soufflé. Blair peeks out from behind the hanging bedsheets to see Pick approaching on his bike with a pretty blond perched on the handlebars. They come to a screeching halt on Plumb Lane and the girl laughs as she tumbles off the bike and onto the street, just barely managing to stay on her feet.
“Hey, Jessie!” Pick calls out.
“Hey, Jessie,” the girl with him says.
Jessie storms upstairs to Little Fair without a word.
Uh-oh,Blair thinks. She strides over to the gate to let the happy couple through. “Hey, Pick,” she says. She offers her hand to the girl. “Hello there, I’m Blair.”
“Sabrina,” the girl says. She gives Blair a winning smile. She is all white teeth, blue eyes, small, perky breasts. She reminds Blair of a sugar cookie. “I’m Pick’s girlfriend.”
Pick’sgirlfriend!This is the first Blair has heard of a girlfriend, though she realizes she has hardly paid attention to anyone but herself this summer.
“Nice to meet you,” Blair says. She supposes Jessie’s rebuff of these two can mean only one thing. “Where are you guys headed?”
“I’m going to make Sabrina some lunch,” Pick says. He nods at Little Fair. “Upstairs.”
“Your grandfather isn’t home,” Blair says. “So I’m going to have to put a damper on those plans, I’m afraid. I can’t let the two of you go up unchaperoned.”
Pick makes a face so familiar that Blair gets chills. She must be having flashbacks of Lorraine. “Jessie just went upstairs,” he says. “She can be our chaperone.”
“I’m taking Jessie out,” Blair says. “Sorry, Pick, I know it’s a drag, but those are the house rules. They’ve been in existence since I was your age. You guys are welcome to go to the big house. I believe both my mother and grandmother are around.”
Pick sighs. “No, thanks. I guess we’ll just go get a burger at the Charcoal Galley.”
Foiled!Blair thinks. But that’s quite all right. She can take Jessie to Cy’s Green Coffee Pot.
“Toodle-oo,” she says.
On the way down Main Street to Buttner’s, Blair tells Jessie, “So…I met Pick’s girlfriend.”
No response from her sister.
“She seemed nice.”
Jessie shrugs.
“She’s very pretty.”
“I guess,” Jessie says.
“Not as pretty as you, of course,” Blair says.
