They lay in their place in the woods. It was cool, the sun having dipped behind the trees an hour before. The remains of their picnic lunch were strewn around them, along with some books of poetry, notebooks and a radio. They’d spent the whole day in their private spot, earlier in bathing suits but now in shorts and shirts. And it had been lovely, relaxed, lazy. Yet something nagged at Jaret, an undefined tug slightly marring things. Peggy hadn’t said or done anything unusual; but a part of her seemed distracted. Jaret had thought of asking if something was wrong but she hadn’t wanted to ruin the day. But now, as it was ending, and Peggy seemed more distracted, more removed, Jaret decided to risk possible problems.
“Char,” she said, touching Peggy’s arm lightly, “something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”
Peggy smiled. “Oh, Jare, you know me so well.”
Quoting, Jaret said, “Two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one.”
“So true.”
“Tell.”
Now Peggy quoted: “It is not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have found it.”
Jaret thought that over. “What truth?”
“The truth I’m trying to dodge. This is some humungus number, babe. I mean, I don’t want to spoil things, but I know I have to tell you sometime.”
“Then tell me now, kid.” She tried to sound casual like her mother always did. Inside she felt as though she were crumbling. What could it be? Didn’t Peggy love her anymore? No, that couldn’t be it. Not after today.
“Oh, Cree Cree, I don’t know.”
“You have to, Char. I mean, you know I won’t let you alone until you do. I’ll drive you up a wall, hassle you till you’re bananas, make you gaga.” Her voice rose, trying for fun, giving way to fear.
Peggy wasn’t fooled. She took Jaret’s hand. “I don’t want to lay a heavy trip on you.”
“C’mon. Remember this? ‘If ever I said, in grief or pride, / I tired of honest things, I lied.’ Edna St. Vincent Millay,” said Jaret reverently.
“I remember. Okay. But, Jare, promise you won’t get crazy and go into some kind of gazinga.”
“No gazingas, I promise.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this apprehensive, fearful.
“Okay. Well, this is it . . . Mark McClinchie asked me out for Saturday night.”
It did make Jaret feel crazy. Two years ago Peggy had dated Mark for a short time until he’d dropped her for Vilma Smith, a cheerleader. Peggy had told Jaret she’d been mad for him, brokenhearted when he’d split. If it had been anyone else but Mark it would have been different. Maybe.
“Sure. What d’you expect me to say?”
“I dunno.” Peggy shrugged. “Something.”
“Something,” she said sulkily.
“Oh, wow.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I guess I should expect people to ask you out. I guess it’ll keep happening, huh?”
“I guess. You too.”
“Yeah.”
They were silent for a few moments, avoiding eye contact. Peggy fussed with the hem of her shorts, wondered for the thousandth time whether not shaving her legs was really doing anything for the Women’s Movement and thanked God she was blond. Finally, her mind whirled back to the problem at hand and she knew she had to go on.
“Jare, I said yes.”
“Huh?”
“To Mark. I said I’d go out with him.” She bit the inside of her cheek. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Jaret but she also wanted very much to go out with Mark McClinchie.
Jaret was stunned, speechless.
“Cree?” Peggy said softly.
Jaret had to get hold of herself. She didn’t want to come off sounding like a jealous lover. Jealousy, she knew, was deadly; jealousy, however, is what she was feeling.
Peggy touched her arm. “Are you mad?”
“Sometimes you’re not very swift, are you?”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
“Thanks a bunch.” She could not keep the sneer out of her voice.
Peggy sat up, her back to Jaret. “Oh, wow.”
Jaret sat up. “Well, what do you expect?” Now jealousy was replaced by anger.
“I dunno.” It was going exactly as she’d expected. Terribly.
“I mean, it’s not something to cheer about, you know. I love you. Why should I get off on you going out with someone else? That make sense?”
“It’s just a date.”
“No, it’s not just a date, Peg. At least be honest about it.”
“Uh-oh, watch out, folks. Lawyer at work!”
Jaret took Peggy by the shoulders and tugged her around so they faced each other. “Don’t try and twist this. You were once hung up on Mark. Isn’t that true?”
“I’m not now.”
“Then why, may I ask, are you going out with him?”
“Let me ask you a question, Jaret.”
Jaret wondered what Peggy was up to but signaled assent with a nod of her head.
“Do you love me because I’m a woman or in spite of it?”
“I don’t get it,” Jaret said, suspicious.
“I mean, do you wish I was a guy? Or you were a guy?”
“No. Why?” She was genuinely confused.
“Well, it would be easier, wouldn’t it?”
“Easier?”
Peggy sighed. “Yes, easier. A lot easier than being . . . being . . . ”
“Oh, don’t. That’s a disgusting word,” Peggy said, making a face.
“Only the way they use it. It’s like nigger. Black people say nigger about themselves to diminish the power of the word.”
“Spoken like a politician.”
Jaret ignored the remark. “Anyway, to answer your question, I love you because you’re a woman. How about you?”
“Oh, Jare. Sometimes it just brings me down. Sometimes I wish one of us was a guy.”
Jaret was astonished. “Then we wouldn’t be us. If you were a guy I wouldn’t be interested.”
“Oh, I know, that’s the trouble. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
But, suspecting Peggy did know, Jaret chose to pursue the Mark issue instead. “What about this date with Mark?”
“What about it?”
Jaret pressed her lips together, both dimples appearing. “Look, if I were a guy and we were going together you wouldn’t date someone else, would you?”
There was only one obvious answer to this question so Peggy tried ignoring it. “I’m curious. That’s all.”
“About him or the way you feel about him?”
“Both. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Yes. Somehow it is. I guess I thought you knew how you felt.” Jaret hoped she wouldn’t cry. “I mean, if you love me, Peg, then what is it you think you might feel for him?”
“I don’t know, Jare. That’s the whole point.” Peggy sounded desperate. “Do you want me to break the date?”
Jaret knew the question was a terrible trap. If she said yes, which was what she wanted to say, Peggy would resent her for it. So she had to say no and be untrue to her feelings. She decided to explain the conflict to Peggy.
“Well, where does that leave me?” Peggy asked after hearing Jaret’s dilemma.
“I don’t know. We can’t both be winners in this thing. It’s the pits, isn’t it?”
“You’re making it the pits. I didn’t think it would be such a humungus deal.”
“Yes, you did,” Jaret said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“C’mon, Peg . . . get honest.”
Peggy jumped to her feet. “I have been honest, Jaret Tyler. I could have made up some story about Saturday night and you never would have known the difference. But no, I decided to tell you the truth and what do I get for it? A lot of hassling. Well, you can just go to hell.” Quickly she turned and walked toward the path.
Jaret rose to her knees, started to call out, changed her mind. There was no point going on with it just then. They’d talk later. She sank back down on the blanket and looked around. The only thing she felt at the moment was annoyance at having to carry everything home alone. Maybe Peggy would come back. No, Jaret knew she would not. She was too angry. And, Jaret knew, too guilty. She hated that. It wasn’t right that Peggy should have to feel guilty about going out with Mark, if that’s what she wanted. Was it? The thought made Jaret feel sick. Was it all going to end? As long as we’re happy, she said in her mind. Damn Mark McClinchie.
Peggy put the car in gear and squealed out of Jaret’s driveway. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so mad. Certainly never at Jaret. Not like this. Sure, they’d had their disagreements, like any couple, but this was different.
She stopped at the light in the middle of town. A bunch of boys were hanging around the front of the Bee Hive, Chris Tyler among them. Feeling an inexplicable hatred for him, she turned away as he lifted his hand to wave. She didn’t waste a second when the light changed. Three blocks later she began to shake her head, angry at herself for her ridiculous behavior. Really dumb, she thought. What did Chris have to do with anything anyway? Why take it out on him? It was Jaret she hated, not Chris. Hated? Oh, no. That was much too strong. It was Jaret she was mad at, annoyed with.
Turning into Barlow Terrace she realized she was headed toward Bianca’s. She had to talk to someone and Bianca was the only possibility, the only one who knew and would understand.
As Peggy raised her hand to knock on the Chambers’ door, it opened. Bianca, outfitted in a long, purple-velvet gown with puffed sleeves and great expanses of skirt, and a rhinestone tiara which was almost lost in her hair, said in a booming voice: “ ‘Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.’ Shakespeare. Comedy of Errors. Act three, scene one, line twenty-six.” She bowed low.
“Aren’t you hot?” Peggy asked.
Slowly, Bianca rose from her bow, one eyebrow arched. “You have no soul.”
“None. Can I come in?”
“Of course, dear heart. You look a little peaky. What’s wrong?” She took Peggy’s arm, pressing too hard with her large hand, and guided her up the stairs to her room, closing the door after them. “Speak. What is it?”
Peggy dropped heavily into a beanbag chair, molding it to her shape.
“Jaret and I have had a humungus fight.”
“Oh, dear. Do you want to tell me about it?” Bianca picked up a lacy fan from her desk and began to cool herself.
“Why don’t you get out of those clothes?”
“Yes, I suppose I should.” Grandly, she rose and walked to her closet, suddenly stopped, whirled around and stared at Peggy.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing.” She walked back to her chair and sat down, picked up the fan.
“I thought you were going to change.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Tell me about the fight, dear one.”
“Oh, Bianca.” Peggy began to cry, the tears running down her cheeks into the corners of her mouth.
Bianca was not one of the world’s great comforters. Showing affection didn’t come easily to her. She was awkward when hugging someone who was upset; her large hands pounded sympathy rather than patting it. It was as if she had no control over her strength, embarrassment rather than compassion leading the way. So she sat where she was, on the chair, on her hands, waiting for Peggy’s crying to subside. “Maybe if you talk about it, Peg, it won’t hurt as much,” she said gently.
Peggy nodded. “Got a tissue?”
Grateful to be able to help somehow, Bianca leaped to her feet, purple train dragging behind her, ran from the room and was back in a moment with a box of tissues which she clumsily dropped in Peggy’s lap. “Sorry,” she said.
Peggy shook her head, not wanting Bianca to feel bad about her heavy-handed effort. “Thanks.” She wiped her eyes, dabbed at her nose.
On the bed Bianca leaned against the colorful throw pillows. “Can you tell me about it now?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Take your time.”
Slowly, Peggy filled her in on the events beginning with Mark McClinchie’s phone call. When she finished she settled back and waited for some words of wisdom.
Bianca’s fingertips tapped against each other in a praying position. “Well,” she said, “I can understand how Jaret would feel. Like I would if Zach said he was having a date with someone else.” She waved the fan quickly. A line of perspiration ran along her upper lip.
“I wish you’d get rid of those clothes, Bianca.”
Bianca narrowed her blue eyes. “Just what do you mean by that?”
“By what?”
Bianca was dying of the heat. “All right, my friend, I’ll trust you.” She got up.
“Trust me?” Peggy was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about changing my clothes which you so des-per-ate-ly want me to do.”
“I desperately want you . . . Oh, no . . . oh, wow! I don’t believe this.” Peggy started to laugh.
“I see nothing funny in this matter.” The fan went crazy.
Peggy controlled her laughter. “If it weren’t so funny, so far out, I think I’d cry. You honestly think I want to see you with your clothes off, don’t you? Bianca, have you forgotten that I’ve known you six years and we’ve spent many nights together? I’ve seen you without your clothes a hundred times. Oh, wow! This is off the wall.”
A reddish hue crept up Bianca’s neck and flushed her cheeks.
“Besides,” said Peggy, “do you think I’m interested in all females?”
“I thought . . . I don’t know,” she said, somewhat ashamed.
“No, I guess you don’t. I thought you understood. I mean, are you interested in every guy you see?”
Bianca shook her head, some of her frizzy hair slapping her cheeks.
“Of course you aren’t. I mean, where are you coming from anyway? I think I’d better go.” Peggy started to get up and Bianca ran to her, pushing her back in the chair.
“Please, don’t,” she said, pleading. “I’m sorry . . . really. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Peg. It’s just all so confusing. First Jaret, now Mark. I’m all mixed up. And look, I’m going to change my clothes right now.” She unbuttoned the tiny buttons which fronted the dress. “See. I’m taking off the dress.”
Peggy smiled. Poor Bianca. She tried.
“Now,” Bianca said, kicking the dress aside and going to her closet, “what are you going to do about Mark?”
“What do you think I should do?”
Bianca pulled on her jeans. “Maybe if you didn’t have to wait until Saturday to go out with Mark you could find out how you feel, and then you and Jaret could, well, work things out.”
“But I do have to wait until Saturday.”
Slipping on a T-shirt that said SARAH BERNHARDT WAS A MONOPODE, she said, “Why?”
“What else can I do?” Peggy rolled the tissue into a ball.
“You can call him. Change the date. I thought you were liberated.”
“I am but, I dunno, it’s not like we’re on such friendly terms.”
“Friendly enough to go out,” Bianca said, adjusting her tiara.
“Well, maybe. I’d better go.” She made her way out of the beanbag chair.
“I loathe that thing,” Bianca said, towering over her. “So undignified. But my mother bought it so what can a girl do?”
Peggy looked up at her. “Thanks for your help.” Bianca flushed again. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Peg. I didn’t mean to but it is hard to, you know, understand.”
Peggy nodded and reached out. In turn, Bianca engulfed her and squeezed so hard Peggy thought she might faint. As she sensed the hammerlike hand coming toward her back, she wriggled out of Bianca’s grip. “Easy,” she said.
“Oh, horrors! Did I squeeze too hard?” Bianca put the back of her hand to her forehead.
“It’s okay. I’m just especially frail today.”
“Thank heaven Zach is so big.”
They both tried laughing but it didn’t really work.
At home, in her room, Peggy stared at the telephone. She thought of calling Jaret but didn’t know what she’d say. Nothing had changed.
Then she thought of calling Mark, as Bianca had suggested. Maybe things would be clearer if she could see him sooner. The thought of spending time with Jaret with the date hanging over them was not appealing. Of course, she could break the date completely. Maybe Jaret was right. How would Peggy feel if things were reversed? She tried to imagine Jaret going out with Pete Cross. She found she didn’t like it much. There was no question in her mind that she would be jealous. So why was she doing this to Jaret? Just to satisfy some curiosity, heal some old wound, salve her ego? It was rotten. She picked up the phone and dialed. He answered.
“Mark,” she said, “it’s Peggy.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Listen, I’m calling about Saturday night.”
“Yeah?” His voice was wary.
“I . . . I . . . well, could we make it tonight instead?” It was as though someone else had spoken. A ventriloquist.
“Tonight? Well, I dunno. What’s wrong with Saturday? Can’t you make it then?”
She took a chance. “No. My father made some humungus plans for me I didn’t know about. Sorry.” She wasn’t being very nice, she knew. Short, abrupt. What would he answer? It was like rolling a pair of dice or turning a wheel of fortune.
“Oh. Tonight, huh?” There was a moment of silence, the static on the line sounding like fireworks to her. “Yeah, well, okay.”
“Super.”
“See you at seven.”
“See you then.” She hung up, not saying goodbye, not waiting for his. She had two hours to eat dinner and get ready. Although she hadn’t planned it before dialing Mark’s number, she felt certain that this was the best way, the only way. Now when she called Jaret in the morning, Peggy would know what she felt, would be able to be clearer and more honest. She was confident she had done the right thing. One way or the other, by morning her relationship with Jaret would be changed; it would either be stronger or it would be over. As far as Peggy was concerned, those were the only two possibilities.