Be True to Me

by Adele Griffin

  “Have you told Gil that you were asking me?”

  “Why, of course. We’re asking you. Think of it that way.”

  My pulse hammered. He wanted me, but he didn’t know how to ask, and so he’d sent his aunt. “Maybe I could try to sort out something.”

  “Well, there’s time. You let us know, Sweets. And thank you.”

  We stood up together, and then she ducked out and was off, trailing her billowing scent of hairspray and strong floral deodorant.

  From the sink window, I watched her slide onto her bike and continue on through to the gate.

  I finished cleaning. Doing more than I needed. Working until sweat beaded on my forehead.

  Back at home, I made a glass of iced tea and used the hose to drench Mom’s flower garden and the hanging plants. Then I sprayed down the walkway. I had to keep busy. If it were true, Gil would call. But I wouldn’t drift around, waiting. I’d weed the entire garden, I’d take another shower, I’d set the table for Sunday dinner, maybe lend Mom a hand in the kitchen, since Mrs. Otis was off. What I wouldn’t do was sit around and wait.

  But suppressing all my hope was something else. It was like trying not to inhale its perfume, or maybe its poison. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with Weeze’s request.

  I didn’t know how to wash it away.

  I was already half-drowning in it.

  When the phone rang, I ran to get it. I knew.

  “Hey. Aunt Weeze told me she stopped by to see you.” Gil’s voice alone brought it back, my desire a hot rush of urgency under my skin.

  “She did.”

  “So you know everything. Look, she came right out and asked who I’d take if I couldn’t take Fritz. She doesn’t want Fritz, that’s the main thing. They’ve been really uptight about us lately. It’s such a lot of garbage.”

  “I’m so sorry.” My voice was disappointment disguised as sympathy. So my hunch had been correct. They weren’t broken up.

  “Anyway, I feel like you’d understand the situation better than some random girl.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Fritz is fine with this, so you know. We’re just sticking things out, while we’re here. Playing by Aunt Weeze and Uncle Carp’s rules and all.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you being Uncle Carp’s goddaughter. Makes it easier.”

  To explain it to Fritz, he meant. “Right.” I felt confused, slightly shattered. Weeze had added a bite to the invitation, making me feel special, flattering and enticing me. Whereas Gil’s request was toothless. All he wanted was for me to be his helpful gal Friday. I took a breath. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want to upset Bertie.”

  “Oh, yeah, Jean, sure, I get that. There’s a dozen reasons not to do it. So listen, however it ends up, thanks for being a sport.”

  “Anything for you, Gil.” I hung up quickly, embarrassed by my earnestness.

  Be smart. You don’t want to be a pawn in this night. Go with Bertie.

  Mom’s attempts to prepare Sunday supper had not created the most confidence-inspiring smells from the kitchen, but it was still a little bit surprising that the lamb turned out that bad, dry as soap, even slathered in mint jelly and surrounded by potatoes and carrots so overboiled that they fell apart on our forks.

  Dad heartily complimented everything, meanwhile gulping down extra wine. I played with my fork and moved food around, waiting until Mom had returned with the runny bread pudding to deliver my news.

  “Gil Burke invited me to Lobster Party,” I said. “Well, technically Weeze Burke did.”

  “Yes, I know.” Mom smiled as she sat. “Your ears must have been burning.”

  “What?”

  Mom clasped her hands and straightened up in her seat like a kid with a secret too big to keep. “During bridge club this afternoon, I might have mentioned to Weeze how you spent all your time at the Coop. Then Weeze might have told me that Gil had mentioned you as someone he wanted to sit at the host table, and then . . .” She smiled as she eased back in her chair and picked up her fork. “We decided to let fate take its course.”

  “It’s hardly fate if Weeze stops by the Coop and invites me on your suggestion,” I said stiffly.

  Mom flicked her fingers. “You can’t be upset. She only wants everything to be impeccable for her party.”

  “But I thought Gil had a steady girl here,” said Dad. “Julia’s friend, who visits.”

  “Oh, but you know the Burkes,” said Mom. “They want . . . you know. Someone ‘appropriate.’ ” She made quote marks to show that she thought the Burkes were being irrational, though we all understood what the Burkes meant.

  “Sounds exactly like them.” Dad sniffed. “But didn’t Bertie already beat Gil to the punch, Jean? Aren’t you going with him?”

  “Not officially.” I looked from one parent to the other. “So you think it’s all right to be Gil’s date?”

  “Gil Burke is going places,” said Dad. “That young man is sharp as a tack.”

  “It’s hard to imagine that Bertie wouldn’t be a brick about it, but if it’s a question of loyalty, then by all means, Jean, you should sit with the Forsythes,” said Mom. “And yet I can’t not stump one last time for Gil. He’s just so impressive. It’s as though the Burkes got a second chance at family with their nephew.” She passed me my dessert plate. “And Weeze says he always speaks very highly of you. The least you can do is think it over carefully.”

  “I will.” I’d never, ever heard my parents talk about Bertie with anything close to the amount of praise they were heaping upon Gil. We all knew the decision. We’d made it together.

  FRITZ

  Tonight felt painful, like the end of something . . .

  Starting that first week after Fourth of July weekend, we did what the Burkes asked. At first, it seemed like a bad joke.

  I could meet up with Gil openly during work shifts at the club, or at the beach with our friends.

  “But I’m not just—poof—giving you up!” I told him, outraged, when I thought outrage could get me somewhere. “Weeze and Carp don’t get to decide how the world is supposed to turn.”

  “I know,” said Gil miserably. “But they did. And I need to take them seriously.”

  “If this is how it’s going to be, then I think we should split. We could make it work. We’ll go to Atlantique, and Phoenix can get us jobs. It’s high season everywhere on Fire Island, and I bet if I called George, he’d let us stay with him long-term. We’d work out a deal!” I could feel the airborne possibility of this summer do-over lifting my hopes. “Don’t you see? This could be a real opportunity! Who’s to stop us from packing up and taking the very next water taxi?”

  “Fritz, you know I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Gil’s looked unhappy. “Think about what you’re asking. I’ve had this family in my life for one hot minute. They’re doing everything in their power to give me a leg up in the world. You want me to just chuck it all, and run away with you?”

  “Only temporarily!”

  He regarded me tiredly. “You know how bad I feel. It burns me up that they can—and want—to put this on us. But summer will end, Fritz. And I don’t want Carp’s loyalty to me to end along with it.”

  “But there’s no reason for them to hate me, like I’m some criminal!”

  “They don’t hate you.”

  “They wish I’d drop dead! They don’t think I’m good enough for you!”

  “You know that when it comes to certain things, the Burkes can be about as lost as last year’s Easter egg. We gotta keep our wits together. Come on, baby. Are you with me? I need you in this with me.” He opened his arms. I fell in, curled up inside the warmth and strength of his hug, and closed my eyes. For a moment I imagined that his body had created a rocket ship that would blast us both far away from Sunken Haven and all its insanity.

  “We need to take care of each other extra,” I whispered, “while they’re pulling us apart.”

/>   “I hear you, Fritzie,” he whispered back. “I’m trying.”

  So we took no big risks. If we wanted to leave Sunken Haven for pizza, or when we went to see The Omen to celebrate my seventeenth birthday, we had to join a herd.

  We found secret hours, but those hours were rare. We’d wait until late night, meeting up by the dock or setting our alarms for predawn walks on the beach. We snuck away on mini trips during work breaks, using old rowboats or sailboats that belonged to the club. We’d ride bikes to places where nobody else ever went, like Sandpiper Cove or the North Bay bird blind.

  When the day of the dreaded Lobster Party finally arrived, we made a plan to meet up at the bird blind. I really hated this place. The only good thing about it was that it was remote enough that none of Carp and Weeze’s friends would ever see us. But there was a reason nobody ever came here. The blind was in a stinky marsh, where clouds of gnats mixed with the sulfur in the air. We couldn’t even find a place to sit comfortably, considering the ground was nothing but soggy weeds and clumps of poison sumac.

  “I got a letter from my mom yesterday,” I mentioned, as I spread a towel on the ledge of a flat rock outcropping, and scratched miserably at my gnat-bitten calves. “She wants to host an O’Neill family reunion over Labor Day weekend.”

  Gil picked up his hat to beat off a dragonfly. “You think your folks’ll let me come to that?”

  “Are you kidding?” I smiled at him. I’d been crossing my fingers he’d say that. We’d already figured out that Fort Polk was about eight hours by car, from either New York or Alabama. “That’d be so cool. They’re gonna love you, even Kevin, once he’s finished showing off.”

  Gil dropped his hat back on his head. “I was also hoping we could do another kind of reunion, a little earlier. How about we head back to Robbins Rest this Wednesday, for our one-month?”

  “As in, an anniversary of . . . that?”

  “As in, that.”

  “Wow.” I was quiet for a second. That night had been a story of us that existed in a time and space apart from everything that had happened afterward. The way Gil was being watched, we hadn’t found a way to have sex again. “You’d really risk it?”

  “I’ve been talking to Tiger, and he says he’ll cover for me. You’re not the only one who needs a break. It’s been one hell of a month.”

  I nodded. “That’d be so smooth.”

  “Meantime . . .” Gil slid down from the outcropping to retrieve his backpack. He never kept more than a bottle of bug spray, a pocket flashlight, and a Thermos in there—so I wasn’t paying much attention when he pulled out a square blue box with a bow. “Happy belated birthday.”

  I sat up. “You weren’t belated. I thought those albums you gave me last week were my birthday present.”

  “Nope. That was the decoy. Here’s the real deal. It took me an extra couple of weeks to pay Mrs. Walt.”

  I shook my head. “That old lady’s got a sweet spot for you. She’d never do a payment plan for just any—oh my gosh.” As I popped open the box, my heart tripped a beat. “The earrings! How did you know?”

  “Julia told me you were wild for them.”

  “I figured somebody had bought them.”

  “Somebody did.”

  “Gil, I’m . . .” Speechless. The green stones with the jet beaded tassels were old-fashioned but with an edge of punk. I’d never had such a nice gift from any guy. I’d been so bummed out when those earrings had disappeared from Thriffaney’s. And here they were, not only reappeared but mine.

  He watched as I slid in the earrings’ posts and fastened the backs, then shook my head to test their swing.

  “I’ll sleep in these every night,” I told him. “I’ll wear them till I’m a hundred years old.” They already felt perfect. Not too heavy, and they touched the edge of my jaw exactly right.

  “You’re a goof.” Gil smoothed back my hair with both hands to see the earrings better. He nodded. “I saw a pair of earrings like this on a girl back in New York. She had a lot of style. Like you.” He kissed me, and then hoisted himself off the rock and lifted his backpack.

  “Wait, you need to go? But we just got here.”

  “Aunt Weeze invited some of her girlfriends over to the house before cocktails tonight. She wants me to play bartender.”

  I felt myself clench. “Well, that’s a bummer. Will Jean be there?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “You say no of course not, but I swear your aunt wants to marry you two off.”

  “I thought we’d been through this. Jean’s as much my date as she is Junior’s tonight. She’s stepping in as a family favor.”

  “So you keep telling me.” Gil would always be a little bit starry-eyed about Jean Custis, her “sweetness” and her “friendship.”

  I touched my earrings. They were so beautiful. I really didn’t want Weeze—and all her tricks—to be a drag on my mood right now. “I guess I’ll go pick up Julia. She’s on Main Beach.”

  “I promise we’ll get through it. Six hours and it’s done.”

  “I’ve sat with the Tullivers every year, so nothing’s much different for me.”

  Gil took my hand to help me off the rock. “I know you’re putting on a good face, and I know this stinks. I’ll make it up to you.”

  I nodded. “You’d better.”

  Another kiss good-bye, and then I made my way to the beach. Whenever Gil and I were together, I always felt so springy and buzzed that it was never until afterward, in those letdown hours, that I allowed myself to dwell on all the things that bothered me.

  Lobster Party bothered me.

  In the army, you always knew who you were because of your dad’s rank. The colonels’ kids were more important than the majors’ kids. The majors’ kids were more important than the captains’ kids. And so if Lobster Party was like a birthday party for a five-star general, and I was only the sergeant’s kid, then I got why I shouldn’t be invited. The Burkes wanted Jean Custis, another general’s daughter, to sit at their table because she was the right rank.

  But now, walking alone to the beach, I fell back on thoughts of how wrong this night felt. I’d only wanted to help Gil. It had been a way to show him my love was more than passionate, that it could spread all the way out to the corners of smart and kind and careful and understanding.

  Except there were no ranks on Sunken Haven. It was supposed to be one big happy family. By standing back and letting the Burkes do exactly what they wanted, wasn’t I agreeing with them that I wasn’t good enough for Gil? And that Jean Custis was?

  By late afternoon, Main Beach was almost empty; only a few surfers, some dog-and-Frisbee people—and suntan queen Julia Tulliver.

  I dropped beside her and gave my head a little shake. “Check these out.” She’d been roasting herself all afternoon, and now she was brown as toast and slick as an eel in cocoa butter.

  Julia raised her sunglasses. “Glamour city. Looks like Secret Agent Man did right by you. Where is he?”

  “Weeze wanted him to deal with her pre – Lobster Party party.”

  Julia made a face. “It’s like the Burkes are rubbing your nose in it.”

  “Who cares what they do? I’m just glad I’m sitting with you, same as always.” I always had to act like I didn’t care about tonight or what the Burkes had done, so that Julia’s feelings against Gil didn’t get too harsh.

  “Catch a few last rays, and then we’ll go up.”

  I arranged myself in exactly her position: arms long at my side, one leg slightly bent, toes pointed in. We lay next to each other, our bodies side by side like cookie cutouts, listening to the surf, the occasional squawk of an overhead gull. It was one of those private games I’d played since I was a kid, right from the first day when my mom drove me to meet Julia after Mrs. Tulliver and Mom had gotten to be friends. I’d seen her in school—she was a grade ahead and already a standout, a girl with a glare, a girl the boys chased, anyway. I ached to be friends.

 
; Julia had been jumping rope in her driveway with a bunch of other neighborhood girls, and without a word, I’d gotten out of the car and jumped right into her game, facing her, matching each smack of her feet on the pavement. She’d barely changed expression, but then we’d jumped together so long that other girls started to get mad that we were taking so much time, using up their turns.

  I wasn’t as good a jump-roper on my own; even though I had all the endurance, I often lost my rhythm. Julia never did.

  It was something I learned about Julia right from that very first day, copying her steadiness, jumping on her beat, staring like a mirror’s reflection into her pale silvery-blue eyes, even when girls started to whine and the two rope turners began snapping the rope too fast. I watched Julia’s silent, serious face, took her cues, and was better in our pair than I’d ever been on my own.

  Maybe I’d never be as chill as Julia, but she had always reminded me to match her groove. I was glad we’d be sticking by each other tonight. As long as I never left her side, I’d be okay.

  “It’s getting late,” she said, finally.

  “Nooo . . .” I wriggled my toes in the sand.

  “So you know, Oliver thinks it’s bogus, too. We both do.” Julia stood, stretched, and swept up her beach towel to shake out. She meant Gil, Lobster Party, all of it. She’d been lying next to me, thinking about it all this time. I felt embarrassed and grateful.

  “It’ll work out,” I told her. “Hey, you got some good color.”

  “I better, I’ve been baking out here for four hours. My skin hurts. Are you still wearing my heinous dress?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got these earrings now.”

  “Ha. Consolation prize.”

  Did Julia mean consolation prize because the dress was so bad? Or because I wasn’t sitting at the Burke table—and Jean was?

  Either way, Julia was right about the dress. Once upon a time, the red-and-white striped dress had been cute on ninth-grade Julia. On the hanger and on me, it looked stupid, and so gauzy I had to wear a slip underneath. But I wasn’t in a mood to think any harder about this night, with all of its rules and limitations and all the ways I couldn’t fix it. Lobster Party needed to happen and be done.