their oldest boy. But for the next six months, young Robin went to school, worked his paper route, came home, ate dinner, did his homework, watched a little TV, and went to sleep. For six months, he hardly spoke to his mother and father. At his confirmation, he coldly kissed Pamela DeMarco and thanked her for going through the trouble of throwing him such a great party, even though he was not her son.
A month later, Robin’s mother died unexpectedly of congestive heart failure. Young Robin quickly forgave himself for not forgiving his mother in time. After graduating from high school, he went to work for his dad and proved himself to be a hardworking and smart manager. The family business prospered under Robin. Then money came his way. Money, good clothes, great cars. Robin worked, played soccer, and took in a great many women. He usually had his pick of most girls he met – and he met a great many girls. He was always courteous to them, but often he was not particularly sensitive. He spoke little of himself and regularly broke up with his girlfriends without letting them know about it; one day he would just start going around with a different girl and that seemed to say it all for him – what more was there to say?
Shying away from girls who were in touch with their feelings and wanting to talk all the time, Robin preferred those similar to his adopted mother: flashy, fair-haired, and private. Gail was nothing like his mother.
The phone rang again as soon as Jennifer put it down. She closed her eyes and let it ring three times before picking it up.
It was Tully. Jennifer sighed.
‘No, no, don’t worry,’ said Tully. ‘I know that you are glad to hear from me deep down.’
‘Very deep,’ said Jennifer. ‘Robin called, asking for you.’
‘He did? Did you tell him he called the wrong house? I don’t live with you.’
‘But wish you did,’ said Jennifer, half kidding.
‘Well, that’s pretty thrilling,’ continued Tully. ‘I didn’t think I’d see him again. What did he want?’
‘He asked if you were going out with anyone.’
‘And you said…’
‘I told him that you weren’t going out with anyone but that he was.’
‘Nice going, Jen.’
‘I told him,’ continued Jennifer, ‘that your mother might be a problem.’
‘Well done!’ exclaimed Tully. ‘Nothing a guy likes more than a problem mom.’
‘Tully, did you tell him he could pick you up at your house?’
‘Yeah,’ said Tully. ‘I say that to everybody. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t think he’d show up.’
Jennifer said, ‘Well, he was definitely going to show up. Good thing I talked some sense into him.’
Tully was silent.
‘Tull, you wanna see him?’
Silence. A grim ‘A little.’
‘He’s going out with Gail, and Gail was very upset with the both of you,’ said Jennifer.
‘Fuck Gail,’ Tully said. ‘Is he in love with her?’
‘Tully, she’s seventeen and I think she kind of loves him.’
‘Yeah, so? I’m seventeen, too. Besides,’ she added, ‘I’m not responsible that he calls me up.’
‘That he calls me up,’ Jennifer corrected her, smiling at the phone.
Jen arranged to pick Tully up in her new Camaro and drive her over to The Village Inn, the popular hamburger place on Topeka Boulevard, where Robin would meet them. Then she called Robin to tell him the plan. Jennifer thought that Robin seemed pleased with that, and this struck her as odd because she always perceived Robin as unemotional. He must like Tully, thought Jennifer.
‘Is there anything I should know about her?’ Robin asked Jennifer.
Well, there are a lot of things you should know about her, thought Jennifer, but right now, I really want to get off the phone.
‘Yeah, she is not much into talking.’
‘She and you both. What’s she into?’
A different kind of communication, Jennifer thought. Tactile communication.
‘Into? Dancing,’ Jen replied. ‘Music. National Geographic. Books.’
No one knew Tully better than Jennifer, no one knew Tully on such personal terms, but even Jennifer was hard-pressed to define what Tully was into, or what was into Tully. When she was twelve, Jennifer overheard her mother and father discussing adopting Tully; she wished she could have heard that conversation better, but the words were big and vague. Something about Wichita, something about foster care. Then Tully more or less dropped out of Jennifer’s and Julie’s life. Oh, Tully came over, ate dinner, did some homework, talked, watched TV.
But it was all pretend. Like the games they used to play when they were children. Pretend. Tully was a Stepford Tully during 1975, 1976, 1977. Jennifer knew only a bare skeleton of Tully’s life during the years Tully was dancing and getting into dance clubs with her fake ID.
In 1977, things got a little better. Tully showed Jennifer the ID. ‘Natalie Anne Makker,’ it read. ‘Female, 5’6”, 105 pounds, gray eyes, blonde hair, b. January 19, 1955.’ Jennifer had been shocked at how Tully looked in the photo, done up so old. Tully made herself to look six years older, but she might as well have made her lie be sixteen years or sixty, so large had been the chasm separating Tully from Jennifer. And even after 1977. They didn’t play softball anymore, Tully and Jen.
‘Yeah, Tully is really not much into all that verbal stuff,’ Jennifer finished.
‘Ahhh, a girl after my own heart,’ said Robin, hanging up.
Afterwards, Jennifer sat back on her bed and did not move for an hour until it was time to go pick up Tully in her new Camaro.
‘Nice car, Jen,’ Tully said, getting in. ‘Now you can drive us all to school.’
‘Makker, Julie and I walk to school. And I’m not driving every morning to pick your ass up from the boondocks of town, that’s for sure.’
‘Oh, yes, you are, Mandolini,’ said Tully. ‘You got nowhere else to go but to pick me up.’
‘I got plenty of places,’ said Jennifer.
‘Yeah? Name one. Admit it, you don’t really need this car.’
‘I admit it,’ said Jennifer. ‘But Makker, whether I need it or not, you are not getting this car, not even for five minutes. Absolutely not.’
‘I don’t want this silly car,’ said Tully, smiling and touching Jennifer’s hair. ‘I just want you to teach me how to drive.’
At The Village Inn, Robin sat down across from Tully. Or rather, Tully sat down across from Robin. Tully looked entirely different from last night, looking more as she did when she first arrived at Jen’s: no makeup. She was wearing old faded jeans and a HAVE FUN! IT’S TOPEKA! sweatshirt. Her eyes were sweet and gray and she had large blue bags under them. Her nose was a little misshapen and her mouth was pale. She had short, kinky hair. She didn’t look like a party girl, she didn’t look scary, she didn’t look much like anything, but as Robin sat and watched her dig into her burger and talk to him, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met.
‘Why did you tell me I could come to your mother’s house?’ he asked her.
She flashed him a smile. ‘I didn’t think you’d come.’ Beaming at the waiter, Tully ordered black coffee and lemon meringue pie.
‘You