Summer Sisters (26 page)

“Should we start making plans for graduation?” Abby asked. “Are your parents coming? Can we throw a party or do you and Bru have other plans?”

She couldn’t begin to think about graduation. She was consumed by her thesis. She discovered creative energies she didn’t even know she had. She’d fall into bed exhausted after midnight and be up at six to start again. She had to keep up with her regular courses, too. Just because it was senior year she wasn’t off the hook. This was Harvard, after all. And a Harvard degree stood for something. Just ask any graduate.

Bru said, “I’ll be glad when it’s done. I don’t like anything that keeps us apart.” He asked her to talk sexy to him over the phone. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me what you’d do to me.” So she told him.

Natalie Ponzo talked up
Five Minutes in Heaven
. It was suggested she send a copy to WGBH. She had an interview with the producers of
Nova
who offered a summer internship but not a real job. She thanked them and sent a copy to Jocelyn, who was working at an industrial film production house in New York. Jocelyn showed the tape around but cautioned Vix against taking a job with her company. It was a job leading nowhere, she’d discovered. She had to waitress weekends to make ends meet. She’d already given notice. As of June 15 she was out of there to work nights as a word processor while she waited to hear from NYU film school, which meant more student loans, which she’d be paying back
for the rest of her life, but hey … so was everybody else she knew.

Vix signed up for job interviews on campus. By the time she met Dinah Renko she’d had plenty of practice. She had her anecdotes down. They all liked the story of how she’d learned to swim at fourteen, were mildly interested in her work on the Mondale-Ferraro campaign.
Good hair can take you far
. And since they all loved Santa Fe there were plenty of questions about quality of life—
How about raising kids? Public school or private? Was the sky always so blue? Were drugs a problem? What about job opportunities?
Their questions had nothing to do with job opportunities for Vix. She was amazed that these people, who seemed to her to have it made, were already looking for a way out.

Dinah worked at Squire-Oates, a large PR firm in New York. “I liked your video,” she told Vix. “That’s really all that matters. The Harvard education doesn’t hurt. It means you’re intelligent. You’ll have ideas. The rest of your resume is very nice, but to tell the truth, it doesn’t interest me.”

Dinah was in her forties, with blunt-cut silver hair, a gray pants suit, and red heels that caught Vix’s attention. Vix wore her usual black pants and white shirt. Maia, who’d bought a suit for interviews, told Vix
she
looked like a waitress. “At least wear a scarf, something to give you some style!” So Vix bought a silk scarf in the Square, an Hermes knockoff, and Maia taught her how to drape it. “Wear those silver earrings and your Santa Fe bracelet.”

Dinah twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she spoke. “We’re a very large corporation, Victoria,
with offices around the world. There are opportunities for a hardworking, talented young woman like you. You won’t be answering phones or filing. I can promise you that. This is not your typical entry-level job. You’ll be working with captains of industry, editing from the start.”

Vix nodded as Dinah spoke, making mental notes.
Captains of Industry. Editing from the start. Plays with her hair
.

“You’ll get a decent, competitive salary and good benefits. You’ll find an apartment share. You’ll enjoy the city. And we’ll be there for you, nurturing your career, moving you up as soon as you’re ready.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got to catch the 5:30 shuttle. Can you make quick decisions? Because I’d like a yes or no right now.”

Actually, Vix didn’t have a clue. She asked if she could give her an answer the following day.

Dinah sighed. “There are others who want this job. I won’t even say how many. That’s how tight the market is.”

“I’ll take it,” Vix said. After, she couldn’t believe she’d done it.

Paisley

S
HE AND
M
AIA
take Victoria to dinner to celebrate her job. She’s the first of them to know what she’s doing next year. When Maia asks,
What does Bru think?
Victoria knocks over her glass of red wine. It spills on the white cloth and onto Victoria’s lap. In the commotion that follows, the question never gets answered.

She assumes that means Victoria hasn’t told Bru yet. But she’s sure he’ll follow her anywhere. She’s decided Victoria is impossibly lucky. Ever since she spent Labor Day weekend on the Vineyard and had the chance to get to know Bru, she’s developed a teensy crush on him herself. Obviously, she’s careful to keep these feelings to herself. She would never act on them except in her fantasies and fantasies don’t count.

Or maybe what it’s really about is seeing her friend adored by a great guy. Either way, Victoria has it made.

B
RU CAME TO SEE
V
IX
the first weekend in May, during a freak spring storm that began as wet snow, turned into a serious thunderstorm, and knocked out half the power in Cambridge. Not that they cared. They were in bed most of the time. Bru pinned her wrists above her head and watched her face as he drove into her. It was fierce, possessive sex and it made her uneasy. Not that it didn’t turn her on. Put her near Bru and like a knee-jerk response, her juices ran, her Power lit up. Her attraction to him never wavered.

When the rain ended they ventured out to walk along the muddy banks of the Charles. Vix longed for sunshine. She tied her new silk scarf around her neck and zipped her jacket. She’d been waiting for Bru to ask to see
Five Minutes in Heaven
. So far, he hadn’t. She would offer to show it to him later, after dinner, then break the news about her job.

Suddenly he stopped and blocked her path, his hands on her shoulders. She couldn’t tell from his expression what he was thinking. He took a small jeweler’s box out of his pocket and handed it to her. “We don’t have to get married right away,” he said.

Married?

“We can wait a year if you want … but I need to know at the end of my wait you’re going to be there for me. You’re going to be my wife, have my kids …”

She opened the box and choked up as she looked at the tiny diamond set in gold, sparkling on blue velvet. Do you marry someone because the sex is good? Do you marry someone because you know, deep down, he’s a
decent person, even if you can’t talk about the same books? She thought about the couples she knew—her parents, Lamb and Abby, even Loren and Tim Castellano. What was it that made them choose one another? How do you ever know it’s right? “Come with me to New York,” she said, urgently.

“Why would we go to New York?”

“I’ve been offered a job there.”

“So tell them no.”

“What about Boston?” she asked, grabbing at straws. “I could probably get a job in Boston.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Bru said, “I hate cities. They make me claustrophobic. I’m an islander … you know that.”

“I just need some time to find out …”

“I put in indoor plumbing. I got a phone!”

She looked back at the ring. She sensed if they broke up now it wouldn’t be like last time.

“If you can’t say yes to marriage and island life that’s it. I mean it. I’ve waited four fucking years for you. You’re almost twenty-two. What’s your problem?”

“I need vitamins?” she asked, trying to lighten it up.

She could see the disappointment in his eyes turn to anger. He grabbed the jewelry box out of her hand and for a minute she thought he might hurl it into the river. But no, he shoved it back in his pocket, too practical to give in to his emotions. They were a lot alike, weren’t they? Two people who had trouble sharing their thoughts. Two people who kept everything inside. Had she mistaken his silence for depth? His wounded look for sensitivity? She didn’t know. She didn’t know any
thing except she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t promise him the rest of her life. She had no idea where she was going.

Her eyes filled. Her throat felt tight. Was she making the biggest mistake of her life? “Bru … please, let’s not …” She tried to embrace him.

He pushed her aside. “I’m not enough for you anymore. That’s it, isn’t it?” He spit out the words. “The
island’s
not enough … now that you’re almost a
Harvard
graduate.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “It has nothing to do with Harvard …”

He let out an angry laugh. “Let me be the first to break the news, Victoria.
You’re
the one who doesn’t get it.”

PART FOUR
Didn’t We Almost
Have It All
1987–1990

35

S
HE’D FINALLY ARRIVED
. This was life after college, life in the real world. The world of
first, last, and security
. It gave her a heady feeling. She and Maia came to the city together, in June, and Paisley, who had an entry-level job at ABC, caught up with them a few weeks later. Maia took them both to Loehmann’s. “Put yourselves in my hands,” she said, gathering jackets, pants, and tops. “Trust me. No colors!” she scolded, when she caught Vix holding up a pink sweater. “Only neutrals. Sophisticated. Professional.”

“But …” Vix began.

“Trust,” Maia told her.

“This is worse than shopping with my mother,” Paisley joked. Vix laughed with her, though she couldn’t remember ever having shopped for clothes with Tawny.

Maia bought herself a pinstripe suit. Very investment banker. To go with her job on Wall Street as a trainee at Drexel Burnham. She was testing the waters before committing to an MBA. When the stock market crashed on October 19, the worst crash in history, with the Dow Jones average tumbling five hundred points in a single day, Maia became one of the first casualties. That night
she sat glued to the tube, watching every financial show, looking for clues to the day’s events. But they offered none. Her Wall Street friends from Harvard were totally freaked. Even seasoned pros were in a daze. Surprisingly, no bodies flew out of tall buildings. Instead, most of them picked themselves up and went back to work. Except for Maia. Axed on the very day she wore her pinstripe suit for the first time. Vix and Paisley took her to see
Fatal Attraction
to distract her, maybe not the best choice, considering, but boiled rabbit jokes were making the rounds.

By the end of the week Maia developed an assortment of symptoms, convincing herself she had ovarian cancer, like Gilda Radner. When the tests proved negative she called for applications to law school and signed up for an LSAT review course. “A pinstripe suit will never go out of style,” she told Paisley and Vix. “I just don’t know about big shoulders.” A week later she found a part-time job filling in as an assistant to a real estate entrepreneur.

In early November Caitlin came to town, stopping in New York on her way back from Buenos Aires. She came directly from the airport to the apartment. She’d never met Maia and Paisley, who referred to her as Vix’s childhood friend, but she dismissed them as quickly as she did the furnishings. “Cute … very post-college-working-girl.” She wore jeans and a big sweater, no makeup. She’d let her hair grow long. She looked fabulous. Flamenco dancing must have agreed with her. She asked Vix to spend the weekend at Lamb’s pied-a-terre at the Carlyle and while Vix threw her things together
Paisley, the gracious southern hostess, offered Caitlin wine and cheese, but Caitlin declined. “Maybe some other time?”

“So, you didn’t like Buenos Aires?” Maia said.

“I liked it fine. But it’s time to move on.”

“Where will you go next?” Paisley asked.

“To Madrid, I think.”

“What will you do there?”

“What I always do … study, gather experience, fuck interesting people.”

“How lucky you are,” Maia said, with a hint of sarcasm.

“You think so?”

“You’re living out everyone’s fantasy.”

“Not everyone’s.”

In the taxi, on their way to the Carlyle, Caitlin gave Vix a flat package wrapped in red tissue paper. Vix opened it carefully and pulled out a gorgeous antique silk piano shawl, printed with poppies and edged in black fringe.

“For your graduation,” Caitlin said, kissing Vix first on one cheek, then the other. “I always forget how much I miss you when we’re apart. You look tired. You’re not getting enough sex, are you?”

Vix laughed. “Maybe I look tired from too much.”

“No,” Caitlin said. “Not enough. I can always tell. Are you seeing anyone?”

“I’ve only been in the city a few months.”

“A few months can be a long time. It used to feel like a long time when we were kids. Sometimes I wish we were twelve again. Don’t you?”

“No. I wouldn’t want to go through all that twice.”

At the Carlyle Caitlin collapsed on the sofa in the living room. “Do you realize I left Buenos Aires twenty-two hours ago and I haven’t really slept or had a proper meal since?” She picked up the phone and ordered dinner for two—shrimp and scallops over linguine, an arugula and radicchio salad, lemon tarts for dessert. While they waited she opened a bottle of chardonnay and poured them each a glass. “I want to hear everything about your work.”