friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” It was a pretty song when sung in rounds, and the sentiment was pretty, too, but now Nell thought that perhaps the moral was inaccurate, at least for someone Nell’s age. She did not think she was the same person she had been ten years ago or six years ago. Having children and getting divorced had taught her self-sufficiency, courage, and compassion; she knew she had those qualities now, and she did not have them when she was younger. Now she knew how to be a good friend, and the friendships she had developed over the past six years were of great importance in her life. These people might not have known her ten years ago—if they had met her, they might not even have liked her ten years ago—but they knew her now, they knew her: Nell St. John. Not Mrs. St. John, the wife of the director, but Nell. It was a very rich reward, this being known and liked for herself; it was a real feast. At first her friendships had been a sort of medicine, a tonic, that helped herget well. Now these friendships were almost a food. They sustained her life. She was fit and full in the world because of her friends.
And she hadn’t lost Clary. Her relationship with her stepdaughter had lasted in spite of everything. Their friendship had been like the straw that Rapunzel spun into gold: straw at first, it had been spun and toughened and twisted and tested by the wheel of time and had come out gold.
Nell had been twenty-five when she became Clary’s stepmother; Clary had been thirteen. She had been a cynical child, and it had taken Nell a long time to realize that what she thought was arrogance on Clary’s part was really a kind of fierce caution. Clary looked like her father. She was long-limbed and lanky, with blond hair and fair skin and dark eyes. But she did not act like her father. Marlow was impetuous, dramatic, quick, and obvious. Clary was analytical, still, and slow to action. It drove Marlow nearly wild that Clary did not want to act onstage. She had even refused to learn to play an instrument. She did not like to play tennis. She preferred biking and swimming, solitary sports. She preferred reading books or watching television to being with people. Marlow couldn’t understand her at all, and she irritated him.
Clary came to stay with Nell and Marlow every summer, and every summer she refused to learn to act. Marlow made Clary a part of the set crew for whatever play he was directing. Clary would grudgingly and quietly do exactly what was asked of her. “Bring the hammer, get some coffee, tell Marlow we need him—” These were orders she could and would follow. Otherwise she would just stand around the stage, waiting, watching, chewing her thumbnail, looking bored. She drove Nell crazy, too; Nell would have died to have had a director for a father, would have given up anything to have been around actors and the theater as a teenager. She couldn’t believe that this beautiful young girl couldn’t see how lucky she was, what chances had fallen into her lap.
The first few years of her marriage, Nell paid small attention to Clary. Nell was still too busy trying to be the most beautiful and talented actress in the world, and then too busy trying to buttress Marlow’s falling ego. There was not much room in Nell’s narcissistic thoughts for a surly teenager. She cooked Clary’s meals, washed Clary’s clothes, and did what had to be done, but her life and Clary’s revolved around Marlow—around his schedule, his needs, his desires. Nell had no experience as a mother, and so itdid not occur to her very often to wonder whether or not Clary was happy. It did not occur to her to ask Clary if there was any other thing in the world she would prefer doing to hanging around the theater where Marlow worked all summer. After Nell became a mother, she realized how few motherly feelings she had had for Clary, how she had not protected her.
Still, she was only twelve years
And she hadn’t lost Clary. Her relationship with her stepdaughter had lasted in spite of everything. Their friendship had been like the straw that Rapunzel spun into gold: straw at first, it had been spun and toughened and twisted and tested by the wheel of time and had come out gold.
Nell had been twenty-five when she became Clary’s stepmother; Clary had been thirteen. She had been a cynical child, and it had taken Nell a long time to realize that what she thought was arrogance on Clary’s part was really a kind of fierce caution. Clary looked like her father. She was long-limbed and lanky, with blond hair and fair skin and dark eyes. But she did not act like her father. Marlow was impetuous, dramatic, quick, and obvious. Clary was analytical, still, and slow to action. It drove Marlow nearly wild that Clary did not want to act onstage. She had even refused to learn to play an instrument. She did not like to play tennis. She preferred biking and swimming, solitary sports. She preferred reading books or watching television to being with people. Marlow couldn’t understand her at all, and she irritated him.
Clary came to stay with Nell and Marlow every summer, and every summer she refused to learn to act. Marlow made Clary a part of the set crew for whatever play he was directing. Clary would grudgingly and quietly do exactly what was asked of her. “Bring the hammer, get some coffee, tell Marlow we need him—” These were orders she could and would follow. Otherwise she would just stand around the stage, waiting, watching, chewing her thumbnail, looking bored. She drove Nell crazy, too; Nell would have died to have had a director for a father, would have given up anything to have been around actors and the theater as a teenager. She couldn’t believe that this beautiful young girl couldn’t see how lucky she was, what chances had fallen into her lap.
The first few years of her marriage, Nell paid small attention to Clary. Nell was still too busy trying to be the most beautiful and talented actress in the world, and then too busy trying to buttress Marlow’s falling ego. There was not much room in Nell’s narcissistic thoughts for a surly teenager. She cooked Clary’s meals, washed Clary’s clothes, and did what had to be done, but her life and Clary’s revolved around Marlow—around his schedule, his needs, his desires. Nell had no experience as a mother, and so itdid not occur to her very often to wonder whether or not Clary was happy. It did not occur to her to ask Clary if there was any other thing in the world she would prefer doing to hanging around the theater where Marlow worked all summer. After Nell became a mother, she realized how few motherly feelings she had had for Clary, how she had not protected her.
Still, she was only twelve years
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