by Annie Katz
"And really cute," she said.
She was right. He was really cute and smart, but the thing I really loved about him was he always stood up for kids who were getting picked on. He was brave, kind, and gentle. "Okay," I said, "I guess I did have a crush on him."
"Everyone knew," she said.
"How could everyone know? I just now realized it myself."
"The last to know," she said.
I did feel like the last to know things, especially about sex. Maybe the sugar and knowing this might be the last time I would ever see Shakti made me bold. I said, "I've never even kissed a boy. What's it like?"
"Oh, kissing is wonderful," she said. "It's like swimming your best time, feeling strong, free, and alive. It's like the best ice cream cake in the world, or hot chocolate on a cold night, or a delicious dream where you're flying over mountains and rivers. Oh, Cassandra, kissing is the best."
"Did you kiss Ian?"
"We kissed a hundred times," she said. "We couldn't stop. It's a good thing he's going to be in London, because I'd never get anything else done."
"Did you do anything else?" I asked. "More than kissing?"
"We wanted to do everything," she said. "But we didn't. We know the facts of life."
"What did you do, though?" I said, hungry to find out all I could before she left in the morning.
"We kissed. And hugged and touched each other all over, but with our swimsuits on. We didn't take our suits off." She sighed. "It was heaven, only hotter."
"Weren't you embarrassed?" I asked, trying to imagine even touching a boy's neck, much less kissing it.
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes were bright in the moonlight. "Excited, happy, strong. Feeling sexy is feeling powerful. Invincible! Just you wait, Cassandra," she said, hugging me. "You'll love it."
"But I won't know what to do," I said, truly distressed. "What if I do meet someone and he wants to kiss me. I don't know how."
"You never kissed a boy?" she asked, as though such a thing were unthinkable.
"Never," I said, annoyed at her. "I told you. How many boys have you kissed?"
"Wow," she said. "I never counted. I just always have. Every time I liked somebody, I kissed him."
"But how did you learn? When did you start?"
"I don't know," she said. "I remember practicing kissing with a little boy in kindergarten. He lived in my neighborhood, and we would play in the park together after school. Our nannies were busy talking and reading magazines on the park bench, and we were in the sandbox kissing. We were imitating what we saw our parents do, I guess."
"Then how come I missed out on all the kissing practice?" I asked.
"Maybe you didn't want to imitate your mom."
"That's the truth," I said, mad at my mother for being such a poor example.
"Don't worry," Shakti said. "It's never too late to learn. Here. Lie down. Close your eyes. Think about Timmy Gonzalez. I'll show you."
"No," I said, pushing her away. "This is too weird."
"It is not weird," she said. "Kissing is a skill you missed out on. I'll teach you. I've taught lots of people. Come on. It's easy. Just use your imagination and do what I say." She pushed me back down on the window seat. I gave up, because when she made up her mind, it was best to go along with her.
"Think of Timmy," she said. "Keep your eyes closed. Think of how cute and sweet he was, and how much you liked to sit close to him. Think about love."
I did as she said, and it was surprising how easily my mind gave me the picture of Timmy standing up for some weaker kid, being a fifth-grade hero, and how much I liked and admired him.
I could feel Shakti bend over me, but she didn't touch me, and I struggled to relax and keep my eyes closed. She smelled like honeysuckle blossoms. Then I felt the slightest touch on my cheek, like a whisper, like a moth's wing, and all my senses came alive with waiting. I didn't think of Timmy or kissing or Shakti or anything at all. All thoughts were gone. There was only waiting, waiting and breathing and heart beating and blood pulsing through my veins.
Seconds went by and then again another light touch, this time on my forehead, a deliciously gentle brushing of skin on skin. Again everything in me strained for what might happen next. Waiting, and more waiting. Another touch to my cheek, and this time I named it a kiss, warm soft lips on my cool cheek, a sweet, quick kiss. Then the terrible wonderful waiting.
I realized my whole body was tense with anticipation, and I forced myself to breathe calmly and relax everything, breathing, waiting, breathing, until I was almost sleepy. Then came lips on my lips, and kissing, real kissing, sweet grownup kissing that astonished me.
Shakti's kisses on my lips and my mouth woke up my entire body. My body had been asleep for twelve years, like sleeping beauty under a curse in the locked castle. After several minutes of kissing practice, every cell in my body was gloriously awake and I groaned with pleasure. Then we both giggled so hard we had to sit up and get control of ourselves.
When we finally quieted down, I said, "So that's what I've been missing!"
"See," she said. "I told you it was easy."
"You said it was easy, but you didn't say how wonderful it is."
"Yes I did," she said. "You didn't believe me."
"I believe you," I said. "I completely believe you."
"The more you practice, the better you get," she said. "Like everything else. So your assignment in seventh grade is to practice with at least three boys."
"What if I want to practice with girls?"
"You can," she said. "But I prefer boys."
"You mean you'd rather kiss Ian than me?" I asked, pretending to be hurt.
"Hey," she said. "You're a rookie. Ian is the best kisser in the world. No comparison."
"Okay," I said. "I'll practice. I'm kind of looking forward to seventh grade now." The idea of school took on a whole new dimension for me.
"I'm going to miss you," she said, and she hugged me hard. "You'll write. And I'll call. And we'll stay close, even with the whole continent between us."
"Yes," I said. "You're here now. We'll be together again someday. We will."
We stayed awake as long as we could, dragging more pillows and quilts from the bunks and piling them on the window seat to make a big nest. She went to sleep first, and I stared at her face in the moonlight, thinking how lucky I was to have my first real kiss be from a beautiful goddess I loved and trusted. It was a sign I would be lucky in love.
When I was too tired to keep my eyes open, I gave her the softest kiss on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you, my sweet as honey friend. Thank you."
The ocean serenaded us all night long, and we were still asleep the next morning when Lila knocked on the upstairs door and called for us to get up. Radha was already downstairs with the packed rental car. She and Lila were drinking coffee at the kitchen table when we came down.
"Thirty minutes," Radha told Shakti. "The airplane won't wait for us."
Shakti nodded and took her overnight bag into the bathroom. I got myself some coffee and sat at the table with them, feeling half asleep.
"How are you?" Lila asked me.
"I'm fine," I said. "Happy. Sleepy. Fine."
"You didn't stay up all night howling at the moon?" she asked.
"Not all night. But we did make a nest in the window seat and sleep in the moonlight."
"Good for you," Radha said. "I still keep in touch with my best girlfriend from childhood. She's in France now. She's a psychiatrist, which is perfect because she's a nut."
Lila and I laughed.
"I hope I never lose Shakti," I said. "She's the best."
"She loves you, too," Radha said. "I'm glad it worked out where she could tell you in person about us moving."
"Thank you for bringing her here," I said, so grateful tears sprang to my eyes. I brushed them away, annoyed at myself. This crying business was such a nuisance.
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you both for being so good to us. No
w we know firsthand what the Oregon Coast feels like."
"What does it feel like?" Lila asked.
"Wild, dangerous, primitive, magnificent!"
"Cool," I said.
"Cold," she said, and we laughed. "It's a hundred degrees in Sacramento!"
I thought about Janice. We hadn't mentioned her at all. Radha had met her several times of course, but they'd never talked about anything except schedules. After less than twenty-four hours, Lila knew Radha much better than Janice did.
Shakti came in then, all fresh from a quick shower, wearing a white shirt and black jeans. She looked happy and ready for the next adventure. I got a vision of her future, where she would always be ready to go anyplace in the world, ready to face any challenge.
"Come on, then," Radha said. She stood up and hugged me. She and Lila bowed Namaste and then hugged each other. Shakti shook hands with Lila and thanked her for everything.
Outside next to the rental car, Shakti and I hugged and laughed and promised to call and write as often as we could. We said thank you and I love you about a dozen times to each other, and then they were gone. Lila and I stood by the road waving as the car disappeared.
"Like characters in an exotic fairy story," Lila said. "So beautiful, smart, and sweet. Simply delightful people."
She turned and hugged me. "Thank you for bringing them to our home," she said to me. "You are a treasure who attracts more treasures. I am blessed to have you with me."
I hugged her and cried and cried, from happiness and sadness and fear and joy and anticipation and dread all at the same time. I was blatantly effusive.
Lila’s Mighty Pen
While Lila was at work that afternoon, I went back to the calligraphy book again and practiced writing Shakti and Cassandra and Janice and Molly and Delilah in pretty script. When I felt I had the shape of the letters right, I was frustrated that I couldn't make the thick and thin parts of the lines, so I called Kim for advice about pens.
She answered on the first ring, and when I told her what I needed, she said, "Come to the shop. I have a whole collection of pens here. You and Molly can try them all, so you won't have to buy as many as I did to find one you like."
On the way I collected Molly, who had just finished sweeping the bookstore floors for Marge. When I saw Curtis reclined in the window chair, I had a vision of his mother doing every single thing for him, the way Marge and Molly did for him now and the way they did everything for Bradley. Had his mother created him? Or had he trained his mother by being so passive, sweet, cute, and occupied by the noble pursuit of knowledge or at least by the noble activity of reading? How had my mother shaped me? And how I her?
When Molly and I got to The Salty Dog, Kim was at the front counter. "Les is walking Sailor Girl," she told us when we looked around for them. "They both needed a good break, so I sent them on a long walk."
She showed us a plastic pencil box full of calligraphy pens, and Molly and I practiced on a pad of paper until we chose a few that seemed to feel good in our hands and look good on paper. Kim guided us to practice holding the pens with a gentle, graceful flowing motion. Then she made cards for us that read our names and Calligraphy Artist.
After we thanked Kim and left, Molly said, "Kitty Lynn is opening her shop again tomorrow. They're getting it ready. Let's go help."
Kitty Lynn was sitting in a chair by the door of her shop, supervising her daughter and son in law, who were moving the counter and the center displays all around. "Oh, girls," she said to us when we came in. "You can help me decide where things should go."
"You look good," I told her, pointing to my eyes and smiling. The stitches were gone from her forehead.
"The wonders of makeup," she said. "I was going crazy staying home. It will be good to work again."
Her daughter said, "You said only half days, Mother. Now I'll be nervous to leave you here."
Kitty Lynn dismissed her with a wave of her hand. To us she said, "Linda forgets I wasn't the one who had the stroke."
Then she addressed her daughter. "I fainted and fell. It could happen to anyone. I'm strong as a horse. I need to work."
"Okay," Linda said. "But I'm calling you every day."
"You call her every day anyhow," her husband said.
"Well I'll nag her more then," Linda said.
"What do you think, children?" Kitty asked us. "Should the counter face the front door this time?"
Molly had a definite vision for how things should go. "Mom has her counters in an L out from the wall," Molly said, "so she can see the whole shop while she's ringing up sales, plus she has her eye on the front door."
"That makes sense," Kitty Lynn said, and she directed Linda and her husband to place everything as Molly suggested. It did look good when they had it all arranged, better than before. Plus it didn't remind you of the basket on the shelf against the wall where Oleander had napped. I was sure the entire furniture rearranging was to help Kitty Lynn move on alone.
"This is perfect," Kitty said when they were done.
Linda's husband said, "I sure wish you kids had come in three hours ago. My back hurts."
Linda playfully slapped him on the shoulder and said, "You'd complain if I swatted you with a new broom."
"You got my number, baby," he said, slapping her just as playfully on the bottom.
"Stop that, you two," Kitty Lynn said. "Now take me home so you can get on home and take care of your own selves instead of fussing over me. I'm all healed."
We left them closing up the shop, and I walked Molly back to the bookstore. "Do you want to come in to practice writing?" she asked.
"No thanks," I said. "I want to get back. Plus the book is in the Crow's Nest," I said.
"It's okay," she said. "Mom got a copy for me, so we both have one."
I left two of the special pens with her and went on to Lila's shop. Herbert took Sunday afternoons off, so Lila was there by herself cutting hair. When I came in the shop, the man in the chair stopped talking, and I got the feeling that he didn't want to continue in front of a kid, or at least in front of a girl kid.
The emotional vibration in the room was intense, and it made me nervous for Lila, so I sat in a chair in the waiting area and pulled a book out of my backpack, deciding to wait there instead of going on home. There was a man already sitting in the waiting area, and he nodded at me and then picked up a magazine. I felt he had been in on the conversation I'd interrupted, and it made me curious and a little suspicious.
For the first time I realized how vulnerable the shopkeepers were, especially people like Kitty Lynn who were mostly there by themselves during the day. Anyone could walk in and do anything they wanted.
There was a real feeling of watching out for each other in Rainbow Village, and now I realized they needed each other more than for social enjoyment and business referrals. They kept an eye out for each other, too. They cared about each other, and their caring gave them a level of safety they might not have had in isolation. Even Curtis's ever constant presence in the window of the bookstore took on a new meaning for me. He'd been a security guard.
I thought all these thoughts to myself while I was pretending to read a cat mystery book, and after a few minutes, the men started up their conversation again.
The one in Lila’s barber chair said, "People have to speak up."
The one near me said, "Yea, speak up and get your tires shot to pieces. You know how defensive some guys are about guns."
No one said anything while Lila was finishing up the haircut and giving the man a leisurely scalp massage. I noticed she closed her eyes when she was massaging, and so did the man. They were both in some other world for a minute.
Lila opened her eyes, smiled, combed the man's hair into place, spun him around in the big barber chair, and handed him a mirror so he could admire the back of his head. He nodded approval, and she took the mirror, whipped off the hair cape, and took his money with a smile and a bow.
"So you'll write something?" he ask
ed, pinning her in place with his gaze.
"I'll pray about it," she said.
"Well, pray hard, because it's on the agenda for the next council meeting. We need people to be thinking about it. You always get things buzzing with that column of yours," he said, grinning, but the serious note had not left his voice. "Marta's on board. She'll print whatever you write."
"Thanks, Hank," Lila said, bowing to him again but not making it a commitment.
For the next haircut, I kept my nose in the book, practicing invisibility, and this is what I pieced together from the man’s conversation with his barber.
At the beginning of the summer, a seven-year-old boy had shot his baby brother to death with their father's gun. Now in a nearby town another kid had found his dad's gun and shot himself in the head. He died in the hospital three days later. People were so upset about children dying that they wanted to regulate handguns in the county. Instead of protecting their families, irresponsible gun owners were making fatal accidents too convenient.
"I've known three families in the last five years where a kid was wounded by a household gun," the man said. "I haven't known anyone who actually saved his family from an outside threat by using a gun."
He thought about it a minute more, and when Lila didn't respond, he said, "That's not counting that teenager who shot her dad or the one three years ago, what was that? The man shot his wife and himself in front of the kids. Can't people see guns are the problem? Kids might hit each other with a rock or a stick, but the chances of murdering each other in less than a minute are slim without a gun."
Lila kept working on his hair without speaking.
He didn't seem to need her to talk, though, because he went on, this time defending gun owners. "I'm not saying people shouldn't own them. I guess some people need them, like you, Lila, to protect yourself, a woman living alone, running a shop by yourself. But you wouldn't leave it out for a kid to play with."
Lila was silent, working on the back of his neck, getting the taper just right, checking her work in the mirror, spinning him back and forth like rocking a cradle.
"Still," he continued, "I don't know if making it a big issue is going to help. People who love guns are going to have a million excuses why they don't need to change just because a few kids get hurt, even if the kids are right next door. Hell, I bet the families with dead kids don't even get rid of their guns. People dig in if you try to tell them what to do."
