When We Were Young

Prologue

One night early in June during the twentieth summer of Emily Cortland and Brett Tarlington’s young lives, Brett parked her father’s Mercedes sedan at the end of a dirt road facing a wetland. Brett’s father owned a school and office supply store in the Fox Cities of Wisconsin.

The two girls—they still thought of each other that way—were home from their respective schools. Emily went to a small college in Greenleaf, Indiana. Brett attended the University of Wisconsin in Madison.

Greenleaf College was four hundred miles south of the Fox Cities. Summer set in earlier there. The flora grew unchecked. Emily’s hair was already summer blond from the sun. Her gray-green eyes were puzzled. Why were they parking? Their summer joyrides usually consisted of driving on country roads with windows open and radio blaring, smoking and enjoying a beer or two.

Brett shut off the engine, and the croaking and chirring of frogs filled the car. It wasn’t yet dark, although it was close to nine. Brett turned her brilliant blue gaze on Emily in a disconcerting way. In the depths of her eyes lay something Emily couldn’t fathom.

Brett smiled, her teeth white in the evening dark. Tell me again why we’re going to different schools?

This had come up before. You know why, Brett, Emily said with exasperation. She could do nothing about it, except maybe refuse to go back to Greenleaf. Perhaps then her mom and dad would capitulate and pay for her to go to Madison. My parents think it would be better if you and I met other girls and some guys. They’d told her she and Brett needed a degree of separation, which they would never achieve on their own since they had been joined at the hip since grade school. Those were her parents’ words, not hers.

Emily sighed. Can’t we just enjoy the night? The summer stretched before them as it always had—filled with excitement and promise—and then in a flash it would turn into autumn. She felt a little frantic for something she couldn’t put a finger on.

Em, Brett cleared her throat. Oh, what the hell. She leaned toward Emily, who seemed stuck in her seat, put a finger under Emily’s chin, lifted it and kissed her.

As if snapped in a picture, Emily could not move. She felt the softness of the kiss, the longing behind it and kissed Brett back.

I love you, Em, Brett said.

I love you too. You’re my best friend, Emily said, alarmed by the reaction the kiss had provoked.

Aw Em, don’t say that. Brett flopped back into her seat and turned her face toward the creamy ceiling.

But you are! Emily exclaimed, pretending not to understand.

You’re throwing a bit of water on a fire.

What? Emily asked, confused.

I’m crazy about you.

Not sure what to say but knowing better than to repeat the words, Emily took Brett’s hand. What can I do?

Let me, Brett said, reaching under Emily’s T-shirt and deftly unhooking her bra. She kissed Emily more urgently as she gently held a breast. Oh Em, how I’ve wanted to touch you, she breathed into Emily’s hair as she worked warm fingers into Emily’s shorts. Do this to me, Em, Brett begged as she stroked the tender wet folds.

Emily did as Brett asked. What she felt and how she responded to Brett’s touch led to considerable inner turmoil. Deep in the recesses of her brain she wondered if this was what she’d been looking for—the kissing, the touching—and then she buried the thought.

* * *

Brett loved sports. Emily loved books. At eighteen, Brett’s parents took her to Madison and Emily left for the small school in southern Indiana. Her dad and mom drove her to Greenleaf. The trip took twelve hours one way, because they had to go around Chicago and Gary and Lafayette and every Podunk town on Highway 41. When they reached Indianapolis, they drove almost to Illinois.

The corn they passed stood taller than Emily. The stalks offered little shade when she squatted among them in the hot sun, because there was no place to stop. Everything grew at a frightening rate. Emily knew right away that this college, set in a small town with one movie theater and a bowling alley, was too far from home.

Nevertheless, a jolt of freedom raced through her when her parents drove away from the small dorm that was to be her home. She lit a cigarette as soon as the car was out of sight, but the sun was too hot to sit long in its glare. She went up to her room on the second floor and began a letter to Brett.

Letters to Brett sustained her while she was at Greenleaf where girls wore sweaters because it was fall even though the temperatures were in the eighties. The girls in her dorm were desperate to join sororities, sobbing if they weren’t accepted.

The most popular game in the dorm was bridge, which Emily’s parents had taught her and her sister. The pall of smoke hanging over the players was not always from cigarettes. However, Emily never smoked weed when she played bridge.

She met Ted Grafton at Greenleaf. He was a smoker and a drinker, but he was also from Wisconsin and helped keep the homesickness at bay. The social part of their dates consisted of playing bridge with Ted’s roomie and his girlfriend, who was in the same dorm as Emily. The rest of the time, they necked in the men’s dorm next to Dottie Hall or out at the quarry or in Ted’s car, which was parked off campus. They stroked each other to climax, which took no time at all for either one.

Toward the end of her sophomore year, Ted started saying it was okay if they went all the way, because he would marry her and they could live in the married quarters. It scared her so much that she broke up with him. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to marry Ted or anyone else. She went home to Brett.

Emily’s sister, Hannah, brought home Rob Welch to meet their parents. Hannah and Emily shared a bedroom, and Hannah asked if she had a boyfriend.

You never bring any guys home, Hannah said as they lounged in bed one morning.

I had a boyfriend at school, Emily said.

You’re cute, Em, with your blond hair and those eyes. I can never decide whether they’re gray or green, just like Mom’s. You must have guys falling all over you.

Maybe I don’t want some guy telling me what to do. The boys get to stay out till midnight. We have to be in the dorm at ten during the week. How fair is that?

Ah, I’m with you there. Is that why you spend all your time with Brett?

A trap, she thought. She’s my best friend.

Hannah shifted to the side facing Emily. But you should spread your time around, don’t you think? People might get the wrong idea.

What wrong idea? she asked and then realized she’d caught the hook. Her heart thudded in her ears.

That you and Brett are too close. Like you’re lesbians.

Emily felt the flush starting in her chest and spreading outward. Because we like each other’s company better than anybody else’s?

Well, yeah. Everyone knows Brett’s a lesbian. Look at her.

She thought she might kill her sister at that moment. It was all she could do to not pounce on her. What do you mean ‘Look at her?’

Cool down, Em. I’m just thinking about your reputation.

What do you mean, Hannah? What’s wrong with how she looks?

Nothing. Forget it.

Everything told her to let it go, but she couldn’t. No, what do you mean?

Hannah sighed. The cocky way she walks, the boy’s haircut, how she looks at you, how you look at her. Where do you go nights when you go off in her dad’s car?

Speechless, Emily mentally scrabbled for a retort. Who made you a fucking judge? She had heard someone say that at school when accused of something.

Good response, Em, Hannah said sarcastically. Hannah got the smarts, Emily thought. She got the looks. I just thought maybe you were under her influence.

Emily leaped on her sister and began to pummel her. You…self…righteous…bitch. You think you’re so perfect, you and your Rob.

Hey, get off me. Hannah covered her head with her arms and tried to roll into a ball. Her long hair tangled in Emily’s fingers. Ouch. Quit. Paradoxically, she began to laugh.

The laughter punctured Emily’s anger. She started to laugh, too, and they rolled on Hannah’s bed—snorting like fools.

Whatever works for you, Em, Hannah said, when they stopped and looked at each other. You always were weird. Emily socked her on the arm. I’ll tell Mom, Hannah giggled, like they were six and eight again and once more they rolled on the bed, laughing hysterically.

* * *

The next time Emily and Brett drove the backcountry roads under a star-studded sky, a man jumped into the headlights. Startled, Emily let out a little yelp, and Brett skidded to a stop. The guy ended up on the hood. For an excruciating moment, Emily thought they’d killed him.

It was with relief and fear that she watched the tall, skinny shape slide off the car and jerk the back door open.

Name’s John B. I need a ride. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, like somebody who had lived in the woods or maybe in California.

She and Brett shared a terrified look, convinced this person was going to rape and kill them. They might have a chance, Emily thought. Although she was petite, Brett was tall and strong.

You got any more of those? John B asked, looking at the Hamm’s beer in Brett’s hand. He lit the stub of a smoke and threw his head back to exhale. The smell was sweet.

Where you going? A lock of Brett’s dark waves fell over her forehead as she handed him a Hamm’s.

Wherever you are. He flipped open the can and took a deep swallow. You saved my life.

Emily thought maybe John B wanted to steal Brett’s father’s Mercedes.

We’re just driving around, Brett said, looking in the rearview mirror at the guy.

Sounds good to me, he said, running his hand over the soft leather seats. He wore khaki pants with big pockets on the side of each leg and a dark T-shirt. The night was hot. A bear was stalking me.

When he lifted a plastic bag and grinned, Emily saw that he was young. Want some weed? I found a patch out there.

Brett’s mouth stretched into a slow smile. Boy, do we ever.

Emily could never remember the rest of the night, except the odor of fresh-cut hay as they skidded from one road to another, laughing at everything.

* * *

Toward the end of July when Brett was helping her dad take inventory at the office supply store—her summer job—John B took Emily to a field on the edge of town. With the sun hot overhead, he got her to lie down with him in the long grass and coaxed her into having sex. She let it happen because she wanted to know what it was like to go all the way. She never thought John B was a serious threat to her independence, like Ted had been.

Brett had shown her what it was like with girls, but most girls seemed to prefer boys. During and after, she wondered why girls wanted to have sex this way. The excitement she’d felt with Brett didn’t happen. She dismissed it from her mind as soon as it was over. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get home and take a shower.

However, the consequences were immediate—although she didn’t know it. She refused to answer John B’s phone calls, and would not get into his car when he followed her. After three weeks, she knew she was pregnant. No period. Why had she called it the curse? She’d be so happy if it arrived. It did not, and she was always tired and hungry.

I’m sorry, Brett said one night after parking at the end of the dirt road. I thought you liked it. She kept her eyes averted.

Liked what? Emily snapped. That’s how she responded to questions these uncertain weeks.

You know, Brett said.

I’m not that way, Emily replied, remembering how the kissing and touching with Brett had set her on fire. John B had left her cold. Was she going to have to pay for just one mistake? Please, please, she begged.

At four weeks she went to a doctor, not the family doctor, but one she picked out of the phone book. Lying on the examining table, her feet in the stirrups, she stared at the ceiling. While the doctor probed, she repeated her mantra—please, please, don’t let it be so.

Afterward, she put on her clothes and waited for the doctor to return. He sat on a chair, facing her. At least his nurse hadn’t come back in with him. He was an older man with a kindly demeanor.

Well, Emily, you are going to have a baby.

But I can’t, she said with alarm. I’m not married. I’m still in college. Could you help me… she said meekly and felt the flush of shame.

He looked at her for a long moment. I’m sorry, he said, his smile gone. Another pause ensued as he studied her. There are college courses at night you could take if you’re working. There are those who can’t have babies, and they adopt. These are alternatives for further education and inconvenient babies.

Maybe it was the inconvenient babies that broke through her protective shield and told her this doctor wouldn’t understand no matter what. Thank you, she said, getting up.

His handshake was limp. Good luck.

She heard him in retrospect. On her mind were the questions—how to tell her parents and Brett? She never thought of informing John B. She left the office without shedding any tears but once she closed the door of her parents’ Ford Granada, which she had to beg to be allowed to drive, she sat in stunned silence. This was a bind from which she could not escape, and she was terrified.

As she parked in her parents’ garage, she passed John B’s 1960 Ford Corvette—dented and rusting—parked at the curb.

Don’t you ever work? she snapped when he shuffled toward her—slouching, hands in pockets. She hated him.

I just thought…

Don’t think, she snapped as she had snapped at Brett. Very soon college would start again. She had to tell someone or maybe she would just move away and work till the baby was born. Even now with John B in her face, she never thought to tell him.

Here. He thrust a piece of paper at her.

On it was scrawled in tiny script his name, John Bernard, and phone number.

Just in case you want to get in touch. He turned around and roared away in his aging Corvette.

She stuffed the scrap in her pocket, meaning to throw it away once inside. She had taken a half day off from her summer job to see that doctor. At five she had to pick up her dad at the mill where he worked in the sales office. They only owned one car. She worked on the mill floor, checking and putting cheese wrappers in boxes as they came off a machine that folded and sealed them. There was no time for chitchat except on breaks.

* * *

For two more days she mulled over her dilemma. On the third day, she gathered her courage. I’m not going back to college, she told her parents after dinner. I’m taking a year off.

She shrunk from their stunned faces. How would they look when she told them why she wasn’t going back?

Her dad recovered first. And do what? Work in the mill?

No, I’m looking for something else. Actually, she hadn’t had time or foresight to look for any better work. I don’t know what I want to do yet, so why waste your money?

Is Brett going back to Madison? her mom asked suspiciously.

I think so. She caught the look that passed between her parents and didn’t know what it meant.

After cleaning up the dishes, all she wanted was to go to bed but Brett had arrived and was talking to Emily’s parents. Emily eavesdropped, hiding against the wall next to the living room.

What do you think about Emily’s decision not to go back to college? her mom asked.

The shock was still on Brett’s face when Emily hurriedly walked into the room, as if she could do damage control. Brett looked at Emily. I didn’t know, she stuttered.

Emily’s mother nodded. Don’t stay out too late. I don’t want to wake you up three times tomorrow, Em, her dad said, which was what he had done that morning.

Emily craved sleep. She longed for it, more than she did food. She grabbed a sweater and went out the door with Brett, thinking maybe she could nap in the car, but she knew she was in for a lot of explaining. Perhaps Brett would come up with some ideas about how to deal with her terrible dilemma.

Are you really not going back to school? Brett asked as they peeled away. It was hard not to take off like a bolt of lightning in the Mercedes. Are you coming to Madison? Emily heard the hope in her voice and wanted to cry.

I did something really stupid, Brett, and I’m in deep shit. The words rushed out of her. Let’s go park.

Darkness was falling. Summer was nearly over. Emily twisted and turned inside, but there was no escape for her. I never liked that fucking school anyway.

Brett parked on the dead end dirt road and turned to Emily. Come to Madison with me. We’ll get an apartment.

Would it work? She couldn’t imagine Brett’s dad paying for an apartment for the two of them. He was a gruff man with a loud voice. Neither of them had any money. Brett, I’m pregnant.

If her parents had looked stunned about her not going back to school, Brett sat frozen with her mouth open. What? Who? When? she asked