by Judy Blume
From downstairs she heard her mother call, “Ruby…do you need me to iron your white blouse?”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’ll do it later. I have a few other things to press.”
“I don’t mind. Bring them down.”
Ruby gathered a pair of shorts, two skirts, and an off-the-shoulder blouse. She ran down the stairs with them just as the doorbell rang. She pulled the door open, expecting to see Aunt Emmy. Instead it was Dana, Ruby’s best friend, another long-legged dancer.
Dana burst out laughing. “You look cute,” she said, reminding Ruby her face was still covered in gray clay.
“Dana, you’re frozen,” Ruby’s mother said, greeting her daughter’s friend. “A cup of coffee or tea?”
“Thanks,” Dana said, “but I’m okay.”
Dana followed Ruby up the stairs. They’d met and roomed together on the national tour of Kiss Me, Kate. Ruby wasn’t sure she’d ever have that much fun again.
“Looks like you’re all packed,” Dana said.
“Almost. I was just finishing wrapping presents for my mom and dad.”
“Give me the ribbon. I’ll do it. You get that goo off your face. I can’t take you out for a holiday drink like that.”
“We’re going out for drinks?”
“We are.”
Ruby passed the red and green ribbon to Dana. “Give me ten minutes. So long as I’m back for supper with the family. You should stay. My mother’s making pierogi.”
“I love your mother’s pierogi.”
“She’ll be happy to have another guest. Aunt Emmy’s driving in from Elizabeth.”
“With handsome Uncle Victor?”
“Afraid the handsome fireman has to stay at home. He’s on duty. Anyway, he’s old enough to be your father.”
“I like older men.”
“My uncle is off-limits.”
“As if I don’t know.”
They laughed as they walked arm in arm to Billy’s, the tavern on the corner, where they sat in a booth. Ruby’s skin was glowing from the facial. Without makeup she could pass for a high school student.
“What can I bring you lovely ladies?” Billy asked. Billy was bald, short and round, but he moved fast.
“Two hot toddies,” Dana said.
“With pleasure, though neither one of you beauties looks old enough to be legal.” He knew they were. Billy had known Ruby’s family since before she was born. Knew she’d turned twenty-two over the summer, just before her father’s surgery. Billy knew almost everything about her family, and he kept it to himself.
When they were served, Dana held up her glass. “Cheers. Here’s to a great year for both of us!”
Ruby clinked glasses with her. “I’ll second that.”
They talked for forty-five minutes over a second hot toddy, taking turns feeding nickels into the jukebox. When they tired of holiday songs they started on Broadway musicals, singing along with “Why Can’t You Behave?,” reminding them of their good times on the road and entertaining the few customers who were seated at the bar.
When it was time to leave, Billy called, “Have a good trip, Ruby.”
“Thanks, Billy. And don’t let my father have more than one, if anyone brings him in.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. And a Merry Christmas to you.”
“You, too, Billy.”
Miri
That night, Suzanne’s father dropped Miri and Suzanne at Natalie’s house. Mrs. Osner answered the door. Small and pretty, she wore a single strand of pearls whether she was in a skirt and sweater, like tonight, or a cocktail dress on her way to the country club. Miri liked to think of her as Corinne. She liked thinking of all the adults in her life by their first names. It made them seem more interesting, less like parents and more like regular people with stories of their own. Steve and Fern were dark-haired like Dr. Osner, but Natalie was dirty-blond, with short, soft curls like her mother, and the same gray-blue eyes.
Even though Natalie’s family was Jewish and attended Temple B’nai Israel on the High Holidays, same as Miri’s family, they had a big, beautiful tree in their living room, which they called a Hanukkah bush. It was decorated with handmade wooden animal ornaments. On Christmas Eve Natalie and Fern would hang up stockings by the fireplace and Fern would leave out milk and cookies for the Jewish Santa, who flew through the sky wearing a blue suit with silver Jewish stars. Instead of reindeer his cart was pulled by camels because he came from Israel, not the North Pole.
Dr. Osner didn’t approve of celebrating this way, but Mrs. Osner, who came from Birmingham, Alabama, had grown up with the custom and refused to give it up. Miri wished her family celebrated the Jewish Santa, too. She would have enjoyed decorating a tree and leaving milk and cookies for him even though she was way too old to believe.
“The young people are downstairs,” Corinne told Miri and Suzanne, as if they didn’t know.
Natalie wasn’t the only one in their crowd to have a finished basement, but if they put it to a vote Natalie’s would win by a mile. It wasn’t just the red leather banquettes, the knotty-pine walls, the red and black floor tiles, or even the oval bar with its flip-top counter and glasses in every size imaginable lined up neatly on mirrored shelves. Forget all that. What made Natalie’s basement take the prize was the jukebox.
“It’s not new,” Natalie always said, as if it would be a crime to have your own new jukebox, the kind with swirling colors and flashing lights. Natalie still got to change the records herself and nobody had to put in a coin to start it up. You just had to push the button. Dr. Osner brought home the jukebox with all the latest hits thanks to one of his patients who was in the music business. Some gangster, Natalie once confided to Miri.
When Natalie pushed the button and the jukebox came to life, the dancing began with something swingy, something they could Lindy to—Hey good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’? It left them laughing, breathing hard, ready for more.
But when Nat King Cole came on singing “Nature Boy” the mood shifted. Miri was wondering who she’d dance the first slow dance with, when out of nowhere a dark-haired boy, someone Miri had never seen before, came up to her, wrapped his arms around her and held her close, as if they’d been dancing together forever. Well, swaying was more like it, but even so…There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy…She could feel the pack of Luckies in his shirt pocket. She didn’t know they were Luckies but she imagined they were. She wondered what he felt holding her that way and hoped it wasn’t her Hidden Treasure bra. Give a girl a Peter Pan and she will grow, grow, grow….Not likely Nat King Cole would record that one.
She had to stop herself from talking, from asking questions the way she did when she was nervous, because she sensed this boy didn’t want to talk. She prayed the palms of her hands wouldn’t sweat, that her deodorant was working, that the faint scent of her mother’s Arpège would reach his nostrils. His breath was near her ear, making her tingle. Then the song ended and he was gone, like Cinderella racing from the ball, but without a shoe, glass or otherwise, left behind to help her find him. She didn’t even know his name. She doubted he knew hers, either. She hoped her blue angora sweater—the one she kept in a garment bag on the top shelf of the fridge—had shed just enough onto his flannel shirt to remind him of her.
When someone turned out the lights Miri snuck away and headed upstairs to Natalie’s bedroom. She wasn’t in the mood for playing Rotation after dancing with the sexy stranger.
Upstairs, she lay on one of Natalie’s twin beds, the bed she slept in almost every Saturday night, but not tonight, because tomorrow was her mother’s birthday and she needed to be home to bring her breakfast in bed, a tradition started three years ago, when permission to use the stove was finally granted. Miri liked to pretend this was her room. The starched organdy skirt on the dressing table was as pretty as any summer dress. Attach a couple of straps and she could wear it to the ninth-grade prom in June. She knew that inside the dresser lay piles of cashmere sweaters. Miri had o
nce counted them. Fourteen. Natalie was embarrassed. “We get them at a discount. From the cashmere sweater lady. You should come over next time she’s here.” As if Miri could afford to buy cashmere sweaters, even at a discount.
More than once Miri had allowed herself to fantasize being a part of Natalie’s perfect family. If Natalie’s mother died—not a gruesome, slow death, but something fast and dramatic, say a car crash—Natalie’s father could marry Miri’s mother, who was young and beautiful and single. Then Miri and her mother and grandmother could move into Natalie’s big red-brick house and Miri and Natalie would be sisters and Miri could start collecting cashmere sweaters like Natalie. Not that Miri didn’t like Natalie’s mother. Mrs. Osner, Corinne, had always been very nice to her. She treated Miri almost like another daughter, which was just one reason this fantasy left Miri feeling ashamed and sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to be a disgusting and immoral person.
Fern suddenly appeared in the doorway to Natalie’s room, clutching a toy rabbit dressed in cowboy gear. Fern called him Roy, for Roy Rogers, the singing movie cowboy. Fern was obsessed with Roy Rogers. “Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above…don’t fence me in…” she sang.
Fern was wearing flowered flannel pajamas with feet. “Is the party over yet?” she asked.
“No,” Miri said. “Does Mrs. Barnes know you’re running around?” Mrs. Barnes took care of Fern and cooked dinner for the family four nights a week. She made dishes Miri had never heard of, dishes with foreign names like boeuf bourguignon and veal marsala. They tasted better than they sounded.
“She’s not here tonight,” Fern said. “Mommy and Daddy are here. They’re in the den.”
“Oh.”
“Roy Rogers has a penis,” Fern said, waggling Roy Rabbit in Miri’s face. “Did you know that?”
“Yes,” Miri said. She’d heard it often enough, every time she was at Natalie’s house, but she still wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. Fern was just in kindergarten.
“I’ve seen two penises,” Fern said. “Daddy’s and Steve’s.”
Miri hadn’t seen any penises and she wasn’t in a hurry to, either. “How about I tuck you into bed?” she said to Fern.
“Okay.”
Miri followed Fern down the hallway to her room, the beige carpet plush under their feet. Fern climbed into bed and Miri pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Roy Rabbit doesn’t have a penis, even though he’s a boy bunny.”
Miri wanted to get out of there. She’d had enough penis talk.
“Don’t forget to kiss me,” Fern said.
Miri dropped a kiss on Fern’s forehead. Her skin was cool and smelled sweet.
She returned to the party just as it was breaking up.
“Where were you?” Natalie asked.
“Upstairs. I had a headache. I guess I fell asleep.”
“Are you better now?”
Miri nodded. “Who was that boy I was dancing with?”
“What boy?”
“That boy with the dark hair.”
“I didn’t notice. Maybe one of Steve’s friends. He had a card game going in the laundry room and he was supposed to keep his friends away from my party.”
Mason
Steve was pissed about him dancing with that girl. “She’s my sister’s best friend, asshole, so stay away from her. I didn’t even invite you here.”
“Hey,” Phil said to Steve. “Take it easy. I invited him.”
“I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to dance,” Mason said. “Nobody told me.”
“We’re chaperones,” Steve told him. “You know what that means? Or don’t they teach you that in junior year?”
“Okay, Steve,” Phil said, standing between him and Mason. “We get it. Off-limits. It’s your house. You get to set the rules.”
Too late, Mason realized it had been a mistake to come to Steve’s house so he hightailed it up the stairs. In the kitchen Dr. Osner was scooping Breyers ice cream into two bowls. “Everything all right?” Dr. Osner asked.
“Yes, sir,” Mason answered. “Everything is fine.” He hoped Dr. Osner wouldn’t recognize him from that day his brother had dragged him to his office, his face swollen with a toothache. His brother’s girlfriend worked for Dr. Osner, but no one was supposed to know they were going together. Something about Christina’s family being Greek and Jack’s being Irish. Their secret was safe with him. He had plenty of secrets, and he kept them all to himself.
He grabbed his jacket and was out of there, glad his dog was spending the night at Phil’s house. What really bothered him was that he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong when he’d danced with that girl. He’d caught a glimpse of her doing the Lindy with some boy who barely came up to her chin and he’d liked the way she looked, liked the dimple in her cheek when she smiled, the long hair flying. He just got a feeling that it would be nice to hold her. When he did, she didn’t talk, didn’t say a word. And neither did he. Just the music and the feel of her in his arms. Yeah. That was all. She didn’t flirt, didn’t play games, just moved with him. Just that.
Miri
Suzanne was spending the night at Robo’s house on Byron Avenue. So Natalie’s father drove Miri home. Miri was sure when Mr. and Mrs. Boros named their daughter “Roberta” they never expected her to be called Robo.
She enjoyed having Dr. O to herself. “What’s new and exciting, Miss Mirabelle?” He had a special name for her, but when it came to new and exciting she couldn’t tell him about the mystery boy, so she didn’t say anything.
“Still working on the school paper?” Dr. O asked, and he seemed really interested.
“Yes, but we never get to cover any exciting stories. Just the same old Christmas pageant and the annual food drive.”
“Say you were interviewing me,” he said. “What would you ask?”
“I’d ask what made you become a dentist.”
He laughed. “Really, you’re interested in teeth?”
“I’m interested in people.”
“That’s what I like about being a dentist,” he said. “My patients.”
Miri was his patient. So was the rest of her family. “Were you always checking your friends’ teeth when you were young, saying, ‘Open wide’?”
He laughed again. “I was more interested in music. But my brothers were dentists. They encouraged me to go to dental school. We practiced together for a while.”
“Where are they now?”
He hesitated. “They moved away.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Yes, I do.”
They pulled up to Miri’s house. “Thanks for the ride,” she called, getting out of the car.
“My pleasure, Miss Mirabelle.”
Dr. O was everyone’s favorite, which is why Miri couldn’t help wishing she had a father just like him. Somewhere Miri had a father but she didn’t know where. What kind of guy leaves his seventeen-year-old pregnant girlfriend and never even sees his baby?
She’d asked Rusty more than once when she was little, “Where is my daddy? Who is my daddy?”
She could tell, even then, Rusty wasn’t going to answer that question.
Elizabeth Daily Post
JOY TO THE WORLD
DEC. 15—The blanket of snow dumped on Elizabeth over the past two days seems not to have deterred bundle-laden shoppers. With Christmas lights strung across streets, stores gaily decorated for the season, and the ever-present sound of carols, shoppers seemed bent on proving they could have a good time no matter what the weather.
Leaving their cars behind because of dangerous driving conditions, they waited last night for buses downtown on Broad Street, contributing to the heavy burden already placed on public transportation during and after Friday’s snowstorm.
“It’s Christmas,” said Myrtle Carter, trying to balance her packages while keeping track of two young children. “Joy to the world, and all that.”
2
Miri
Sun
day was frigid, gray and windy. At Newark Airport a new low of six degrees was recorded at 7 a.m. But Miri, asleep in her bed under a puffy quilt, didn’t give two figs about the weather. She was dreaming of the mystery boy she’d danced with last night. She was good at that, at deciding what she’d dream about, then doing it.
When her alarm went off at 8 a.m. she reached out and turned it off. She threw on her robe and hustled to the kitchen where she prepared two eggs boiled exactly three minutes, dark rye toast slathered with butter, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee with real cream and two sugars. She decorated the tray with a paper doily and a flower plucked from the arrangement on the hall table, a gift from Rusty’s boss and his wife. Her mother’s real name was Naomi, but because of her auburn hair, which was long and thick, everyone called her Rusty. People turned to stare when she walked by, as if maybe she was a movie star. Too bad Miri didn’t get her mother’s hair or her green eyes. Nobody stared when she walked by.
When she presented the breakfast tray, Rusty acted all surprised, like she’d forgotten it was her birthday. Miri thought about the bed jackets displayed at Nia’s. If she had had the money she’d have bought one so Rusty could have breakfast in bed in style on her birthday.
“That was delicious,” Rusty said when she’d finished her breakfast.
Miri held out the gift from Nia’s Lingerie.
“Breakfast in bed and a present?” Rusty said. “Should I open it?”
Miri nodded. What else would you do with a present?
Rusty untied the ribbon and rolled it up, then carefully removed the wrapping paper, so it could be reused. Finally she opened the box and pulled out the half-slip. “This is exactly what I wanted!”
She sounded as if she meant it. Miri was pleased.
“And in navy,” Rusty said. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s nylon tricot,” Miri told her. “And if it’s the wrong size you can exchange it.”
