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Authors: Marilyn Sachs
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Chapter 8
Aunt Helene was standing in the hallway, talking to my dad and mom when I escaped from the living room. They must have been talking about us because they stopped when I appeared, stood looking at me silently for a short second, and then Aunt Helene jerked back into speech.
“Oh, Molly, dear, there you are. How ... how is everything going?”
“Oh, just great!” I lied, and looked at the boxes she was carrying in her arms. She had a bunch of them wrapped in different kinds of gift paper. It felt like Christmas. Christmas in August.
“Did you run into much traffic?” my father inquired politely.
“No, not bad at all,” she answered and then handed my mother one of the boxes. “Karen, it’s really wonderful of you to go to so much trouble for Beth and me.”
“No trouble at all,” said my mother, shaking her head over the box, a big square one wrapped in gold paper. I had a feeling it would turn out to be a box of candy. At least, I hoped it would. “And you didn’t have to bring anything. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, just a few little things we picked up in Europe for Molly and the boys.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” my mother insisted, and Aunt Helene said something about not bothering, and my father murmured something about trouble, and all the words began merging as I stood there, wondering which of the boxes were for me and what was inside them.
Beth appeared. I didn’t turn, but I could see her mother look over my head and watch how her face grew happy. Imagine anybody feeling happy over Beth!
“Hi, darling,” said her mom.
“Did Daddy call?” I heard Beth’s voice behind me.
“Yes, he did, and he felt bad about missing you, so he decided he’d call again tomorrow morning.”
Beth brushed past me and stood next to her mother. They were nearly the same height, but she laid her head down on her mother’s shoulder for a quick second, and her mother, still holding the boxes, leaned over sideways and kissed the top of her head. “Are you having a good time, darling?” Aunt Helene asked. “I’m sure you are.”
“Did you remember to bring Jeff’s present?” Beth asked.
“Well, why don’t we all go into the living room,” my mom said. “There’s no reason for you to keep standing.”
We all moved together into the living room, and Aunt Helene laid all the boxes down on the coffee table. Then she turned and smiled at me. “Now, I have a few things for you, Molly. I hope they fit, But ... ” She looked at me doubtfully. “You’re built differently from Beth. She’s taller.”
“And I’ve got more of a figure,” said Beth.
“Well, you’re older, darling. A couple of years makes a big difference at this age.”
I kept my eyes off Beth. I knew she had a bust and hips, and in my mind, I could see her undressed with a woman’s body. Nothing much had happened to mine yet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to happen. But I didn’t need to think about that today. I kept my mind on the gift boxes. There were six of them, all of different sizes. I hoped at least two of the big ones would be for me.
“You really shouldn’t have,” my mother was murmuring, still holding her own gold-wrapped box.
Aunt Helene selected a large, flat box, covered in dark green paper with a gold cord tie. It looked dull and it looked expensive. My mother was directing a tense, familiar look in my direction. I knew what she wanted me to do. “Thank you, Aunt Helene,” I recited and heard my mother let out a breath.
I opened the box, unfolded the mysterious layers of tissue paper, and held up a plaid, pleated skirt with a big safety pin on the side.
“This is a real Scottish tartan,” Aunt Helene explained. “I thought you’d like this one particularly—it’s such a beautiful red color, and it’s called Royal Stewart, the same one the British royal family uses.”
“It’s beautiful,” I recited. “Thank you very much, Aunt Helene.”
“Beth
Chapter 8
Aunt Helene was standing in the hallway, talking to my dad and mom when I escaped from the living room. They must have been talking about us because they stopped when I appeared, stood looking at me silently for a short second, and then Aunt Helene jerked back into speech.
“Oh, Molly, dear, there you are. How ... how is everything going?”
“Oh, just great!” I lied, and looked at the boxes she was carrying in her arms. She had a bunch of them wrapped in different kinds of gift paper. It felt like Christmas. Christmas in August.
“Did you run into much traffic?” my father inquired politely.
“No, not bad at all,” she answered and then handed my mother one of the boxes. “Karen, it’s really wonderful of you to go to so much trouble for Beth and me.”
“No trouble at all,” said my mother, shaking her head over the box, a big square one wrapped in gold paper. I had a feeling it would turn out to be a box of candy. At least, I hoped it would. “And you didn’t have to bring anything. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, just a few little things we picked up in Europe for Molly and the boys.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” my mother insisted, and Aunt Helene said something about not bothering, and my father murmured something about trouble, and all the words began merging as I stood there, wondering which of the boxes were for me and what was inside them.
Beth appeared. I didn’t turn, but I could see her mother look over my head and watch how her face grew happy. Imagine anybody feeling happy over Beth!
“Hi, darling,” said her mom.
“Did Daddy call?” I heard Beth’s voice behind me.
“Yes, he did, and he felt bad about missing you, so he decided he’d call again tomorrow morning.”
Beth brushed past me and stood next to her mother. They were nearly the same height, but she laid her head down on her mother’s shoulder for a quick second, and her mother, still holding the boxes, leaned over sideways and kissed the top of her head. “Are you having a good time, darling?” Aunt Helene asked. “I’m sure you are.”
“Did you remember to bring Jeff’s present?” Beth asked.
“Well, why don’t we all go into the living room,” my mom said. “There’s no reason for you to keep standing.”
We all moved together into the living room, and Aunt Helene laid all the boxes down on the coffee table. Then she turned and smiled at me. “Now, I have a few things for you, Molly. I hope they fit, But ... ” She looked at me doubtfully. “You’re built differently from Beth. She’s taller.”
“And I’ve got more of a figure,” said Beth.
“Well, you’re older, darling. A couple of years makes a big difference at this age.”
I kept my eyes off Beth. I knew she had a bust and hips, and in my mind, I could see her undressed with a woman’s body. Nothing much had happened to mine yet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to happen. But I didn’t need to think about that today. I kept my mind on the gift boxes. There were six of them, all of different sizes. I hoped at least two of the big ones would be for me.
“You really shouldn’t have,” my mother was murmuring, still holding her own gold-wrapped box.
Aunt Helene selected a large, flat box, covered in dark green paper with a gold cord tie. It looked dull and it looked expensive. My mother was directing a tense, familiar look in my direction. I knew what she wanted me to do. “Thank you, Aunt Helene,” I recited and heard my mother let out a breath.
I opened the box, unfolded the mysterious layers of tissue paper, and held up a plaid, pleated skirt with a big safety pin on the side.
“This is a real Scottish tartan,” Aunt Helene explained. “I thought you’d like this one particularly—it’s such a beautiful red color, and it’s called Royal Stewart, the same one the British royal family uses.”
“It’s beautiful,” I recited. “Thank you very much, Aunt Helene.”
“Beth
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