Read Online Other People We Married by Emma Straub - Free Book Online
Authors: Emma Straub
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Franny didn’t ask more than that. Jackie turned around and waved at her mother and Franny, two sunny bodies. A waiter was bending down to set a drink on the small table next to her mother’s lounge chair. She waved back, her pink nails little kisses in the air.
When Jackie had made it back to the far end of the pool, the stem of the eggplant, she bounced up and down on the diving board. Her swimsuit was black and slick as a seal’s pelt, and with the goggles, she felt like a Russian spy. Franny pushed herself off the wall and doggy-paddled out into the middle of the pool. She could see Jackie watching, or at least she thought she could. It was hard to tell with the goggles.
Before Franny could even yell up and alert Jackie to her newly water-bound presence, Jackie leapt up and did a forward flip. Her head was up, and then it was down. Her feet were down, and then they were up. She could feel her body fold in half, and then open up as straight as a pencil, into the water in one motion. Jackie loved to dive. If she could have stayed underwater forever, she would have. My water baby, that was what her mother used to say. My water baby.
Franny’s legs looked like two white pillars. Her toes scraped against the bottom of the pool. Jackie swam as close as she could, and then grabbed Franny’s left shin and gave it a tug. Jackie could hear Franny scream, even from under thesurface. She popped up next to Franny, laughing, and then lifted the goggles off her eyes and moved them onto her forehead. There were deep indentations in her skin where the goggles had been.
“You look like you got into a fight with an octopus,” Franny said.
Jackie spat out a mouthful of pool water. “What do you think is down there?” she asked, gesturing with her right ear.
“Octopus!” Franny said, and before she’d finished saying it, Jackie was on top of her, underneath her, behind her, swimming like a fish, her hands two tentacles, just for Franny. She screeched, in spite of herself. Jackie hoped that her mother had gone to the ladies’ room.
The day of the ball, they were booked. Mrs. Johnson made the three of them appointments to get their hair done. Jackie huffed and puffed through it all: the rollers were too hot, the hairspray stung her eyes. When they were back in the hotel room, her mother started to loom over Jackie’s face with a mascara wand. She actually screamed.
“I can do it,” Franny said. Jackie could tell that Fran was trying her hardest not to be ready too early. Her dress, on loan from Jackie’s mother, lay flat on the bed, but her hair was done, her makeup, everything. Jackie had loaned her a string of pearls, and she fingered them gingerly. They looked better on Franny.
“Yes,” Jackie said. “Let Franny do it, Mother. We’ll meet you in your room in half an hour, okay?” Mrs. Johnson already had her dress on and didn’t look inclined to wait. “Or we’ll meet you and Dad at the bar, how’s that?”
“A gimlet doesn’t sound like a
terrible
idea,” her mother said. “Fine. You girls hurry up, though. I won’t be late.” Her skirt was the color of sea foam and pushed out from her body as though held up by tiny creatures. It was satin, the kind of thing you had to know you wanted, because they didn’t sell it in every store. Not even at Bloomingdale’s. She walked sideways so as not to muss herself and closed the door behind her.
“Jesus,” Jackie said. Another Jewish-issue word. She winced.
“Jesus,” Franny said back. They smiled.
Franny guided Jackie backward until she was sitting on the closed toilet seat. She sat next to her on the lip of the bathtub. They were wearing their slips, peach and white and slippery. She moved her makeup bag into her lap.
“Okay,” Franny said. “Hold still.”
Jackie closed her eyes.
“Your hair is so much poufier than normal,” she said. It was true. The lady in the salon had somehow teased an extra four inches out of Jackie’s hair. “You
When Jackie had made it back to the far end of the pool, the stem of the eggplant, she bounced up and down on the diving board. Her swimsuit was black and slick as a seal’s pelt, and with the goggles, she felt like a Russian spy. Franny pushed herself off the wall and doggy-paddled out into the middle of the pool. She could see Jackie watching, or at least she thought she could. It was hard to tell with the goggles.
Before Franny could even yell up and alert Jackie to her newly water-bound presence, Jackie leapt up and did a forward flip. Her head was up, and then it was down. Her feet were down, and then they were up. She could feel her body fold in half, and then open up as straight as a pencil, into the water in one motion. Jackie loved to dive. If she could have stayed underwater forever, she would have. My water baby, that was what her mother used to say. My water baby.
Franny’s legs looked like two white pillars. Her toes scraped against the bottom of the pool. Jackie swam as close as she could, and then grabbed Franny’s left shin and gave it a tug. Jackie could hear Franny scream, even from under thesurface. She popped up next to Franny, laughing, and then lifted the goggles off her eyes and moved them onto her forehead. There were deep indentations in her skin where the goggles had been.
“You look like you got into a fight with an octopus,” Franny said.
Jackie spat out a mouthful of pool water. “What do you think is down there?” she asked, gesturing with her right ear.
“Octopus!” Franny said, and before she’d finished saying it, Jackie was on top of her, underneath her, behind her, swimming like a fish, her hands two tentacles, just for Franny. She screeched, in spite of herself. Jackie hoped that her mother had gone to the ladies’ room.
The day of the ball, they were booked. Mrs. Johnson made the three of them appointments to get their hair done. Jackie huffed and puffed through it all: the rollers were too hot, the hairspray stung her eyes. When they were back in the hotel room, her mother started to loom over Jackie’s face with a mascara wand. She actually screamed.
“I can do it,” Franny said. Jackie could tell that Fran was trying her hardest not to be ready too early. Her dress, on loan from Jackie’s mother, lay flat on the bed, but her hair was done, her makeup, everything. Jackie had loaned her a string of pearls, and she fingered them gingerly. They looked better on Franny.
“Yes,” Jackie said. “Let Franny do it, Mother. We’ll meet you in your room in half an hour, okay?” Mrs. Johnson already had her dress on and didn’t look inclined to wait. “Or we’ll meet you and Dad at the bar, how’s that?”
“A gimlet doesn’t sound like a
terrible
idea,” her mother said. “Fine. You girls hurry up, though. I won’t be late.” Her skirt was the color of sea foam and pushed out from her body as though held up by tiny creatures. It was satin, the kind of thing you had to know you wanted, because they didn’t sell it in every store. Not even at Bloomingdale’s. She walked sideways so as not to muss herself and closed the door behind her.
“Jesus,” Jackie said. Another Jewish-issue word. She winced.
“Jesus,” Franny said back. They smiled.
Franny guided Jackie backward until she was sitting on the closed toilet seat. She sat next to her on the lip of the bathtub. They were wearing their slips, peach and white and slippery. She moved her makeup bag into her lap.
“Okay,” Franny said. “Hold still.”
Jackie closed her eyes.
“Your hair is so much poufier than normal,” she said. It was true. The lady in the salon had somehow teased an extra four inches out of Jackie’s hair. “You
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