Beaches (9 page)

“What’s B.P.?” Stanley Berger asked.

Cee held tight to her locker door, braced to hear the answer, but Barry Rubin said it so fast that she couldn’t make it out. All she heard was Stanley Berger laughing really loud. And she was afraid to ask anybody what B.P.

was. Couldn’t ask any of the other girls. And certainly not the boys. She sat for hours at home that night writing a “B” on a piece of notebook paper and a “P” a few inches away, and filling in words. Bad Person, Boring Pushover, Big Prostitute. At eleven o’clock that night, in tears of fury, she finally grabbed the phone and called Stanley Berger to break the date.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you, Berger, you turd,” she said. “So forget I said yes to the prom, okay?”

He wasn’t one bit disappointed.

“Okay. I’ll take my cousin Joanne,” he said. “See you.”

But before he could hang up Gee Cee shrieked, “Hey, wait a minute, Berger. Just tell me one thing. What in hell does B.P. mean?”

“B.P.? Huh? Oh, yeah …” and Stanley Berger laughed. “It means Brillo Pad, Cee Cee. You know? Like your hair.” He laughed again and hung up.

She didn’t go to the prom. In fact, the night of the prom she made Leona process her hair with some foul-smelling lotion that was supposed to do the opposite of what permanents do. By the next day, she no longer had Brillo Pad hair or straight hair either, which had been the hoped-for result. It was more matted and wiry than straight, but it didn’t look like a Brillo Pad. Shit, Cee Cee thought. Now it looks like the bristles of a clothes brush. She welcomed her frizzy hair as it began to grow back in, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was a graduate now and who cared what any of those high-school boys thought. Someday she’d go back to the Bronx and take John Perry with her and every one of those boys and their jerky girlfriends would shit from the shock. Hah.

Now as she walked, wild fantasies of Broadway marquees danced in her head. She’d better get some sleep. Tomorrow her show was opening, and she needed all of her strength to knock ‘em dead!

Cee Cee’s heart was pounding wildly. Maybe it was the third glass of champagne. No, it was the memory of her curtain call. The applause had risen audibly when she stepped on the stage to take her bow. She had glanced briefly into the wings, where Bertie stood clapping more than anyone else, even though she held under her arm one of the dancers’ skirts that had ripped during the first act. Cee Cee noticed Bertie had tears in her eyes. Christ, she was a good friend. She was proud. Proud of Cee Cee’s applause. Maybe almost as proud as Cee Cee herself.

And now, at the opening night party, the tiki torches on the beach outside of John Perry’s house looked to Cee Cee like birthday candles on a huge sandy cake. Probably because the only other times she’d ever felt nearly as good were her birthdays when Leona would help her open the inevitable box of new tap shoes, and then the box containing a pretty new outfit that Cee Cee would want to wear to school, but Leona would say, “Sure, sure,” and then make her save it to wear to auditions.

Cee Cee was elated. My God, how she deserved this. Perry hugged her after the show. A little reserved, but then the others were around, and whispered so only she could hear, “I told you so.”

She laughed, too loud, hoping the others would know, could tell her secret. He was hers.

“Gee.” It was Bertie. The two friends embraced. The party had been going on for at least an hour, but Bertie had just arrived. She was so thorough. She would stay at the theater after every performance, darning little holes in the costumes, ironing for the next night so she wouldn’t have to do it during the day, when she was working on the clothes for next week. Even now, the night before she was leaving, she still finished her work. She was a wonderful person.

“How do you feel?”

“Great,” Cee Cee said.

“Want to go for a walk?” Bertie asked.

“ok ”

Sure.

The water looked like a huge black monster advancing on the beach, then creeping away, then advancing again. The moon was not quite full, but very bright. The girls carried their shoes and walked slowly and silently. The tide was high and they stayed close to the houses, sometimes catching sight of a plastic bucket or shovel left by a child who had played there during the day.

“I’ll miss you, Gee,” Bertie said.

“Yeah,” Cee Cee said. Too choked to respond.

They walked silently again for a long time until Bertie broke the silence again.

“Cee Cee,” she said. “I did it.”

Later, when she thought about the conversation, Cee Cee remembered that the minute Bertie said those words, she knew exactly what Bertie had done and with whom, but she was hoping (God, are you listening?) she was wrong.

“Did what?” Cee Cee asked, and she stopped walking.

“Got laid. By John.”

Cee Cee couldn’t speak. It was a joke. Now Bertie would say, it’s a joke, Gee. You didn’t believe me, did you?

“Oh, boy, I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that,” she said instead. “To say I got laid-which is really an awful way to put it, because it wasn’t like that. We made love. I mean, we really made love, and it was so neat, Cee Cee, not like it probably would be with someone my own age. He was so gentle and sweet. And you want to know the funny thing?”

“Yes,” Cee Cee managed to say. Oh, God, yes, she wanted to know the funny thing. Let the funny thing be that this was a lie, and that everything she was picturing now that was making her feel weak wasn’t true.

“The funny thing is that I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t feel dirty, and I’m not the least bit in love with him. You know the old myth about the man you give your virginity

to being the first man you fall in love with. Well, I’m not. And I think that’s really great.”

But I am! Cee Cee screamed inside. Outside, she just stood there, looking at the ocean, unable to look at Bertie. Beautiful Bertie. With John Perry.

“I’d never tell another soul, Gee,” Bertie said hastily. “I mean, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed, because he’s a wonderful person and everything, and I’m glad it could be with him my first time, but I had to tell you.”

A chill came over Cee Cee, and she wished she’d brought a shawl.

“When was it?” she asked quietly.

“Last night,” Bertie said. “After I dropped you off, I went to his house to go over a list of the stuff I needed to tell him before I left tomorrow, and one thing led to another, and . . . well … I wanted him, Cee Cee. That’s why I was so tired all day today. I didn’t get back to Aunt Neetie’s house until one-thirty.”

One-thirty. A half-hour before Cee Cee arrived at John’s. Maybe if she’d gotten there earlier. No.

“I knew you wouldn’t be shocked,” Bertie said, hugging her. “You’re so sophisticated. You probably think I’m a baby, making such a big deal about all this.”

Cee Cee forced a smile and shook her head to show that she didn’t think Bertie was a baby, and the two walked back up the beach to the party.

That night was the first time since Cee Cee arrived in Beach Haven that she slept without waking in the middle of the night. She dreamt about Leona. In the dream, Cee Cee was lying in the bathtub and Leona came into the bathroom, put the seat down on the toilet and sat on the lid watching Cee Cee wash herself. As Cee Cee moved the soapy washcloth slowly over her body, Leona got angry and shouted, “How many times have I told you not to touch yourself? Don’t touch yourself, and don’t let any

boys touch you, either. Don’t touch yourself. Cee Cee. Cee Cee. Cee Cee,”

“Cee Cee.” It was Bertie’s voice. “Cee Cee?”

Cee Cee turned over. She opened her eyes, then squinted from the glare of the early morning sun. Bertie stood beside the bed, dressed for travel in red linen slacks and a pink T-shirt. When she saw Cee Cee was awake, she sat on the bed next to her. Her eyes were filled with tears.

Why was she here? Hadn’t they said their good-bys last night because Bertie and Neetie were leaving early this morning to avoid the traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike? Hadn’t they exchanged promises to write more often, more newsy, and try to plan more visits together? And hugged? And promised unending loyalty? Well, Bertie had promised that. Cee Cee had nodded. Then why was Bertie sitting here with tears in her eyes?

“Gee,” Bertie said softly. “John just got a phone call from your father. Leona’s dead. It was a heart attack. I’m so sorry, Cee Cee.” Bertie began to cry. Cee Cee didn’t.

“I’ll help you pack. Neetie and I will get you to the bus, and then she and I will go on. John had to go into Newark to get some stuff for the theater, so he’s gone- but he said to tell you you can come back as soon as you feel like it. He says you can do Annie in Annie Get If our Gun at the end of the summer if you want to.”

Cee Cee turned and put her feet on the floor. There was sand under them. There was always sand everywhere in this fucking place.

She was glad to be leaving. Glad to be going . . . home? What was at home if there wasn’t Leona? Nathan, behind his newspaper? Now he’d have to talk to her. Be close to her. Maybe he’d want to take her bowling again like when she was a little girl. She remembered hearing him ask Leona if he could take Cee Cee bowling; when Leona laughed at the idea, he said he thought he should

take Cee Gee more places and be close to her. After that one time bowling, the closeness campaign ended, but Cee Cee was never sure why. Maybe she would ask Nathan about that today.

Bertie had already finished putting Cee Gee’s things in the suitcase when Cee Cee came out of the bathroom. Bertie led her downstairs. Neetie sat in her car, smoking. She no longer had a handkerchief in her left hand. No one said a word all the way to the bus station. When they got there, Bertie said, “I’ll go,” to her aunt, as if Neetie were dying to walk Cee Cee into the bus station. Neetie turned off the motor and lit another cigarette.

The bus station was empty, but the eight A M bus stood outside with its doors open. Cee Cee would be the only passenger this morning. Bertie looked at the bus, then at Cee Cee.

“Cee,” she said. “I promised you last night I’d be your friend forever and I meant it. if you get to New York and it’s too awful, call me and I’ll figure out a way to get there and be with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cee Cee said hoarsely.

” “By,” Bertie said. A quick kiss on the cheek and she turned and started for the front door of the station.

Cee Cee watched her. Bertie. Boberta White. The little girl she’d met on the beach in Atlantic City so long ago. Her pen pal. And now her best friend. Yes. She had to admit it. In spite of John Perry. In spite of the fact that she was so beautiful it was sometimes hard even to stand next to her.

Cee Cee Bloom had a best friend for the first time in her whole life.

“Bertie,” she cried out. “Bertie, wait.” Her voice was filled with so much need and so many years of holding it all inside, and with a shrillness that meant, maybe I will never have this moment again, that Bertie turned and ran back to where Cee Cee was standing.

“Bertie,” Cee Cee said, with tears in her eyes and her throat, “I love you. I love you a lot.”

Bertie put her arms around Cee Cee, and the two girls stood in the tiny bus station, crying and holding one another tightly.

Dear Mr. Perry:

This is to thank you for the six weeks you allowed me to work in your summer theater in Beach Haven and to ask you if it would be all right if I used your name as a reference in the future to obtain employment in my home town. Awaiting your reply, 1 remain

Sincerely yours, Roberta White

John,

For God’s sake, I hope you get this before you get that typed-up formal note my mother made me send to you about references, yipes, it was awful. She stood over me like a police guard. Please send a formal answer. Thinking of you.

Bertie

Berta love,

The funeral was a bore. I’m back in Beach Haven for the last few weeks . . . and, are you ready??? Sit down. I am no longer Cecilia Bloom. I am Cecilia Perry. Leona would die to think I married a goy (a gentile person) if she wasn’t already dead but she is, so tough shit on her.

Oh, I know you think I’m awful, but John and I have discussed Leona every night and day and we know that she did terrible stuff to me, so how bad can I feel just saying tough shit on her? We will stay in Beach Haven till the theater is all locked up tight, and then, heaven knows what. Maybe the Big Apple and singing lessons for me. John really believes in me, says I am a big big talent and has oodles of contacts. Hope you’ll be at the opening night of my Broadway hit.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Cecilia B. Perry (Can you believe it,

Bert???)

Dear Miss White:

The Board of Regents of Pennsylvania State University wish to congratulate you on your acceptance to our School of Liberal Arts.

VARIETY
, June 1962

Hallie’s Club, Newark. Cee Cee Bloom, a dazzling young thrush, performs a set worthy of bigger and better rooms. The voice is tops, the patter funny. Expect more from Cee Cee Bloom.

My dear daughter Roberta,

Naturally, your warm reception into the sisterhood of Chi Omega did not come as a surprise to me. You carry the legacy of your mother’s membership with you, and I am proud that you have chosen to join the same sorority I did.

Your relationship with the other gals will be priceless, Bert, and they can do important things for you, the most important being to help you to maintain your respectability and a sense of your womanhood so you can make the biggest step of your life-finding the right man who will eventually become your husband.

Your father and I met in college, and we were happy until his death, even though people said he mustn’t have been happy if he had a heart attack so young. Nevertheless, I hold my head up high and don’t need to date or to remarry to prove anything to anyone. That is all a part of what it means to be a real woman, not a cheap person without values. Men are different from women. Their needs for certain things are needs we don’t have and will never understand. If you remember this, you won’t get hurt.

I am sending you some money, which I hope you will use to buy some cute outfits to wear on dates, etc.