Someone to Love

by Norma Fox Mazer

  She examined herself in mirrors all over the house: speckled mirror in the bathroom, little oval mirror in the upstairs hall, long narrow glass over her parents’ bulky, old-fashioned bureau. In every mirror she saw only herself. Nina Pudding Face. Her old disparaging name for herself popped out like a jack-in-the-box. Wasn’t it awful? Without Mitch at her elbow to tell her he loved her, she fell right back into that old trap of disliking herself. She noticed that she was breathing with her mouth hanging open, a look she despised, a hangover from that year she’d had those terrifying I-can’t-breathe attacks at night. The same year her father had had his heart operation. She shut her mouth, walked away from the mirrors.

  “Hi, guys!” A big smile for her younger brothers who still stuck together like glue. “Remember me? I’m your sister.” Billy looked disgusted. Eric rolled his eyes at her foolishness. “Don’t recognize me, huh? I’m different, right?”

  “Geez,” Billy breathed. They ran past her.

  “Dummy,” Nina told herself. No wonder they wouldn’t talk to her. Without thinking, she had adopted the same tone of jovial bullying her older brothers had always used toward her and all the younger ones. It seemed to her that she had never seen herself so clearly. It was as if by the act of going away and then returning home, she had split herself: she was still Nina, their Nina, but while she was joking up her brothers or teasing her mother or asking her father questions about his African violets, she was also, in a sense, outside herself, critically watching. Knew her teasing was designed to calm any suspicions her mother might have about how she was living. Knew she was pleasing her father with her questions.

  In the morning, waking in her old bed, she stared at the ceiling, at the familiar cracks and water stains. The old house had many creaks, cracks, and groans. It was rarely silent. In the other bed, her first cigarette of the day dangling from the corner of her mouth, Nancy waved smoke out the partially opened window. “Does it smell in here?”

  Nina turned on her side. “Good morning. You still trying to fool Mom about your smoking?”

  “Betcha booties. Forget how she hates the weed? I don’t know how she lived with Dad all those years before he gave it up.”

  “She’s good,” Nina said. The night before, looking at her mother as they all sat around the kitchen table eating dinner, Nina’s heart had squeezed tight with passionate, ancient feelings: love, anger, pity, all fused together. “She’s too good. Does she have to work so damn hard? She never stops. She’s up before anyone—I hear her in the kitchen right now—and goes to bed after all of us.”

  “Did you come home to bring that news?”

  Nina grimaced. Away from Nancy, she had been favoring her in her mind with a little glow, almost a halo. Her baby sister!

  “Did Mom tell you Grandma’s sick?” Nancy said.

  “No.”

  “She’s got cancer.”

  “I didn’t know that! Is she in pain, Nan?”

  “They’ve got her on drugs. She’s still getting around and being pissy as ever to anyone who gets in her way. Remember what she used to say when I did something she didn’t like? ‘What dodo bird brought you?’ I’d sass her back, then go in the closet in the hall and cry.”

  “Me,” Nina said, “she used to grab by the shoulders. Hard.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s not always the nicest old lady in the world. But I appreciate her more these days.”

  “She’s dying?” Nina said. Hard to believe of that big woman with the work-roughened hands that could leave bruises on your shoulders.

  “That’s not why I appreciate her,” Nancy said. “What I see with my own eyes is that not enough ladies, young or old, have got her vinegar running in their blood. So she’s dying. Everybody dies. Anyway, she’s eighty-three.”

  “Nancy, doesn’t anything ever bother you?”

  Nancy blew smoke to the ceiling. “Not if I can help it.”

  “How much do you smoke?”

  “Couple packs a day.”

  “Aren’t you worried about your health?”

  “Why?”

  “Cancer.” Nina wanted to dig beneath her sister’s unflappable exterior.

  “Well, I’ll tell you,” Nancy drawled. “I have a nasty fungus between my third and fourth toes, and last week I bashed a finger playing racquetball. But, otherwise, lungs included, I’m healthy as a horse. Which you have to be to work in the mill.”

  Nina heard that as a reproach. Nancy worked in the mill; she went to college. “I didn’t know you played racquetball.” But once again she was sitting on her own shoulder, watching, judging. Judging herself to be a fool to try to play Nancy’s cool, cool game. I didn’t know you played racquetball. What did that have to do with the way she was feeling, the things she was thinking?

  “Guess you don’t know a lot of things, Nina.”

  “You’re right, Nancy,” she said after a moment, “but I’m trying to learn.”

  “Go to it. Do your damndest.” Everything Nancy said sounded faintly sardonic, as if she were forever having a huge private laugh at the world.

  Nina’s face flushed. They were back in their old groove—fencing. Nina says this … Nancy says that. Nina says thus and so … Nancy says yes and no. Fences going up, barriers of words stretching between them. And Nina had thought she would—could—talk to Nancy. Real talk. About Mitch—and love, and life. But they couldn’t even talk about their grandmother.

  “Is racquetball fun?” Nina said neutrally. “The professor I work for might teach me.”

  “Professors teaching racquetball? Some fancy college.”

  “Oh, we just live in the lap of luxury. Listen, Nance, do you ever think about college? It’s not too late.”

  “No way, José. I made up my mind a long time ago to two things. One, I was getting out of school as fast as possible, never to return. And two, whatever I did, I would not spend my life stuck behind a desk typing up reports for a bunch of guys making more money than I ever could.”

  “So you like the mill?”

  “I didn’t say that. I like the girls I work with. I like the pay envelope every week. I like that part a lot.”

  “Any guys work there?”

  “A few. They get the better jobs. Anything else you want to know?”

  Nina could take only so much of this. Years ago she and Nancy had been friends, playing together, scrapping, sure, but a team, too—the only two girls in a family of boys. Where had it all gone? That pleasure of linked arms, of heads together, of climbing into the same bed at night, tenting the blankets and whispering plans for revenge on older, bullying brothers?

  Nina’s mother made the usual too-lavish Christmas Day dinner. The smell of roasting turkey and candied sweet potatoes filled the house. It snowed again. Had been snowing for days. Nina had almost forgotten how much snow fell in the foothills of the mountains. Every windowsill was thickly crusted with snow.

  Her grandmother arrived with a huge pan of chestnut stuffing and three pies. “Let me see you, Nina.” She put her hands on Nina’s shoulders, and for a moment Nina felt seven years old again and on trial. Her grandmother’s brown, bloodshot eyes stared into hers, and a guilty heat rose into Nina’s cheeks. Did her grandmother know? Did she know that Nina was living with a man? Living in sin—that’s what she’d call it. Nina forced herself to stand quietly.

  “So … school is nice?”

  “Very nice.” Was that it? Was that all? Her grandmother’s hands were not, she realized, gripping in the old, hard, unbearable way, but rather resting on her shoulders. Nina’s heart galloped. She understood then that her grandmother was an old, sick woman. “I’m learning a lot, Grandma.” She covered her grandmother’s hands with hers.

  The old lady’s chins wobbled. “You’re our smart one, Nina. You study hard. Don’t be lazy!”

  “Okay, Grandma.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed the leathery cheek.

  The week passed slowly. Nina studied, tried to study; but time slipped away from her. She daydreamed
, didn’t get nearly as much done as she had planned. She called Mitch twice, but couldn’t really talk—the phone was in the kitchen, and someone was always around. But after these conversations—hurried, muted, Mitch saying I love you, come home, I miss you—a great heat would creep into her belly; and later, in bed, lying facedown with her hands under her, she would imagine the two of them together again.

  She slept a lot. Slept for hours and hours. “You’re catching up with your rest,” her mother said tenderly, as if she had a vision of Nina at college hunched over books into the small hours of every night.

  On her last night home Nina found herself with Nancy in the kitchen, drinking beer and talking. “So you’re going back tomorrow, and I didn’t even ask you the big question,” Nancy said. “How’s the boyfriend situation?”

  “Good enough,” Nina said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning—I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “That’s good?”

  “’Taint bad,” she said, in Nancy’s tones.

  “Well, but—just one?”

  “How many do I need? This one keeps me busy.”

  “Four would keep you busier.” Nancy grinned, showing tiny baby teeth.

  “Four?” Then Nina got it. “You have four boyfriends?”

  Nancy ticked them off on her fingers. “Hugh, Mark, Bob … and sometimes Ed.”

  “Wow,” Nina said inadequately.

  “Well, life doesn’t get boring that way, anyway.”

  “You like them all the same?” Nina tipped back in her chair, trying to take in Nancy. They were sisters, but so different. She was short, plump, a plugger (the mule); Nancy was needle-slender, light on her feet, a leaper and jumper. But none of that explained their differences.

  Their relationship had been strained for some years now, probably since they’d gone into their teens. In high school Nancy had always had boys hanging around. Once Nina tried to talk to her, give her advice. She’d been playing Big Sister. Not for long. Nancy had cut her off, told her she, Nancy, knew more than Nina ever would. Maybe true. No maybes about it. True.

  “Four guys,” Nina said again. “Well, that must be … interesting.”

  “Yeah … inneresting,” Nancy drawled. “Ever think of it? Ever think of going in for more than one at a time?”

  “No … no.…” Nina said, and immediately thought of it. Mitch could be Numero Uno. After him, Nickiepie, then D.G. Or no, Adam, and then D.G.… She’d rotate them, give them each a week.…

  She squinted at the beer bottle. Ha. She’d never be able to manage it. When she was with one, she’d be worrying about the other three. It wouldn’t just take good organization. You needed a certain frame of mind. Her? She’d be covered with guilt and worry all the time. Imagine trying to keep four guys happy!

  “I don’t know how you do it,” she said.

  “Mark is my biggest problem. The guy wants to settle down. With me, believe it or not. He wants a little house, packs of kids—the whole bit. Okay for him, he’s twenty-seven. But I’m still in my teens. I keep telling him, Go find yourself someone else, find yourself a nice little wifey, but he won’t listen. Keeps hanging around. Insists he’s going to reform me. He says it’s natural for girls to want to get married and have kids. I told him, ‘Yeah? Well, then I’m unnatural. It’s my middle name. Nancy Unnatural Bloom.’”

  Nina laughed. “So what does he say to that?”

  Nancy shrugged. “The more I push him away, the closer he wants to get. Guys always want so much. Too much! I’m not getting tight with any one guy for a long, long time. And then I gotta find one who’s different. Not possessive. Ever notice how they want you to be their chief possession? First it’s darling, sweetie, baby, honey, and then they think they own you. You’re supposed to be just grateful they love you.”

  “Well, maybe it depends on the person, the guy,” Nina said mildly.

  “It’s a law of nature, Nina. Mighty hunter crap. They can’t hunt down big game anymore, so they go after a woman. They’re in their glory when they get you.”

  At once, uncomfortably, Nina imagined Mitch in a white safari suit standing with his booted foot on her prostrate rump. Geez! She put down her beer. Being around Nancy was catching.

  “You serious with your guy?” Nancy asked.

  “In a way, yes … definitely.”

  “He’s in college, too, huh?”

  “No, he does odd jobs for a company. Painting, kitchen work.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He left college last year,” Nina said, enjoying Nancy’s astonishment. It wasn’t often she could wipe that blasé look off Nancy’s face.

  “Why? Is he dumb?”

  “Hey, Nan, everybody in college isn’t a genius, and everybody out of college isn’t a dope. Mitch happens to be a very smart person.”

  “Uh-huh,” Nancy said with her little smile.

  “Look,” Nina said defensively, “he just didn’t feel right about himself being in school. He said … he felt he didn’t know that much about real life.”

  Nancy hooted, just as Nina had anticipated. “Send him down to the mill!”

  “Well, that’s more or less what he’s doing for himself. He does all kinds of jobs … different work experiences. Right now he’s laying tiles in a restaurant.”

  “Nina, for a smartie—” Nancy shook her head. “All these college hunks around, and you pick one that’s laying tiles. I guess college isn’t teaching you so much after all.”

  “I don’t love him because of his job!”

  “You love him? Even better. Nina, sometimes I feel like your big sister. Love, cookie, is a crock.”

  Nina leaned forward, pushing aside her beer bottle. “Nancy, you’re not really that cynical.”

  “Yeah, I am. Is he sexy at least?”

  “What do you think?” Nina said, stung.

  Nancy laughed. “You’re not going to like what I think. I think … how would big sister know what’s sexy?”

  Nina flushed. “I’m not that backward.”

  “Sure am glad to hear it. What does Tile Layer look like?”

  “His name is Mitch.”

  “You getting mad?”

  “Yeah!”

  Nancy got two more bottles of beer. “Well, don’t. It’s just the way I am. We haven’t had a good old girlie talk for years. Let’s not blow it.”

  “You think it’s my fault we haven’t talked?” Nina asked stiffly.

  Nancy shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. No, you’re a lot more reasonable person than I am. A lot nicer, too; so I figure it’s my fault—”

  “Oh, stop. Why are you putting yourself down?”

  “No, I mean it.” She gave that milky-toothed smile that made her look about six years old. “I’m not putting myself down. Just—I know myself. And I don’t hand out compliments much. Better take ’em when they come. You are a better person.”

  “And you’re something else,” Nina said.

  “Compliment?”

  “Yes!”

  “Okay, thanks.” Nancy smiled. “Let’s be friends. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

  “It is; it is.” Nina opened fresh bottles of beer and they each took a drink. “Nance? I want to tell you something.” She drew closer, glanced at the closed door. “I don’t want anyone else to hear—”

  “You’re not preggy!” Nancy said.

  “Do you think I don’t know anything?”

  “What do you use?”

  “The diaphragm,” Nina said impatiently. “Listen—”

  “I like the pill. I don’t give a damn about those warnings. I think it’s a great invention.”

  “Nance. I’m living with Mitch.”

  “You’re living with the guy? You moved out of the place with those other girls?”

  Nina nodded.

  “Well, well, well. I never would’ve thought.” Nancy chuckled. “You’re something else.”

  “Do you think I should tell Mom?”

&nb
sp; “Why?”

  “Well … I don’t like being deceitful.… Having secrets.”

  “Nina!” Nancy clutched her head. “Do not tell Mom.”

  “What if she comes up to visit me sometime and—”

  “Oh, go on; she’ll sooner take a walk on the moon. She’s lucky she gets two miles down the pike once a week to play bingo at the American Legion Hall.”

  “I know, but … I feel guilty. It seems like I’m tricking her. I wish I could tell her, Nancy. Mitch is so wonderful. Why shouldn’t she know?”

  “Nina, the beer’s getting to you! Why would you tell Mom? I’ll tell you why. For your own sake! So you can feel all pure and uplifted. I cannot tell a lie, and all that junk. Don’t kid yourself you’d be doing it for Mom, Nina. You’d be doing it for Nina. Listen, do you think I run around telling all?”

  “That’s different.”

  “What’s so different? Gimme a break! I’m sleeping with my boyfriends, you’re sleeping with your boyfriend. In a way, I think you living with this guy would be more upsetting to Mom than anything I do. I mean, I don’t make my life public. I keep up a nice front for her and Grandma and everyone. And you should, too. I’ll tell you something else. Mom’s got big hopes pinned on you. All the things she never did, she’s counting on you to do. You’re the one who’s going to graduate from college, get a nice job, and not rush into having kids too soon. Etcetera. If she knew you were living with Mitch, it would tear her up. She wouldn’t say much, but she’d be thinking, There goes that. There goes my brilliant Nina, tied down and tied up.”

  “I’m not brilliant,” Nina said in exasperation. “I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that. If you knew how I beat my head against those books. If you knew how many smart people there are around, really smart. You’re smarter than I am. Much smarter. And you know it, too.”

  “Since I’m so smart, listen to me, big sister. Do not tell Mom you’re screwing around and—”

  “I’m not screwing around, Nancy!”

  “Oh, ho, I offended you? Okay, your highness, I’m screwing around, you’re living in holy togetherness.”

  “Jesus, Nancy! That tongue of yours. Did you ever think you’re a lot like Grandma?”

  Nancy’s mouth opened, then closed. She moved her beer bottle around and around in a wet spot. After a moment, she said, “You’re right. I have a big mouth. It’s my claim to fame.” Her laugh sounded forced.