Amanda in the Summer (3 page)

I’m heading back to the city tomorrow. I’ll be staying with a friend until our (meaning Kevin and me!) apartment is ready in August. I’m looking forward to school starting again. I must absorb all the knowledge I can to fight the establishment in academia. Students and minorities must have a voice.

I hope we can get together for lunch and a good rap session before school starts. Kevin and I want to go to the Democratic National Convention for the marches there. I want to tell you all about it. I think I’ll need you to run interference with Mom. Or not. Maybe she’ll still be too consumed with my living arrangements to worry about my political activities.

Peace and love,

Amanda

August 24, 1968

Dear Tilly,

A few days of bliss with no one to talk to but the seagulls. I have you to thank for this. I’m so glad you popped back after Amanda, Robert and Mother left. The strain I put on all of us while you were here would’ve dragged on for who knows how long if you hadn’t returned. Once again, Tilly, you read the tea leaves and righted things.

My moods have been so ragged of late. Jealousy of all things. Jealous that you could talk to my daughter, get along so lovely with her, which I’ve had difficulty doing these last few months. Jealous of your longer running friendship with Robert than with me. I’m not sure if I was jealous of him or you. You’re both mine. And angry that the two of you are uncomfortable around each other after so many years and not making sense of that. When Robert left, I tried to give him the blue swimsuit you had left behind and asked him to drop in on you to return it. He said no, I could do it when I got back. This was so unlike him and did more to unsettle me.

Yes, silly thoughts.

So you came back. Lying on the beach, just you and me like old times, really gave me some perspective. Insisting I should stay on when the others left, having some time alone with you and now some time alone with myself is exactly what I needed.

Amanda leaves for Chicago tomorrow, and I am headed home to be by the phone in case she and Kevin should need anything. The thought of them marching still does not make me happy, but I will be quiet and let her live her life. What you told me about your talk with her regarding Kevin eases my mind on that issue. Somewhat. You still didn’t promote the marriage issue, but you might have planted the seed. Thank you, Tilly.

See you in the city.

Love,

Amanda

July 3, 1969

Dear Tilly,

A good time to get a letter off to you before Amanda, Kevin and Mother arrive. Robert and I came up early to open the house and stock the fridge.

We’ve seen so little of you over this past year. I had hoped you’d tear yourself away from your usual group to spend the fourth with us here. You do realize besides a couple of lunches with me at Gino’s, a day shopping at Bloomies and the two dinners at your house (with a house full of people) we haven’t seen you since last summer when you came here to the beach house. Robert cautioned me about putting a guilt trip on you. Pooh! He doesn’t miss you as much as I do. Although, I think he did in the beginning regardless of how little he would say. He’s grown accustomed to your absence.

You tell me it’s because of the publication of your book and the added time required for your appearances that we are robbed of your attention. It’s more than a schedule issue, my friend, Tilly. Last summer marked a turning point in our friendship triangle. I sensed it as you and I watched the last sunset together on the beach. I had hoped it was the changes going on in my body and an unsatisfactory vacation, but there were changes going on amongst us that caused the dissatisfaction. Oh, you and I are the same. When we’ve had time together, our friendship isn’t altered, but the spark has died for the whole of us. If you know, if Robert knows why, well, I fear neither of you will say. Mother tells me it was bound to happen. That men and women cannot be “just friends.” As much as she loves you, she insists a friendship between you and my husband was not a healthy situation. That she should imply there could ever be more between you and Robert than friendship is ridiculous. She said she was only warning me that the longer you two are so close, the more the likelihood of other possibilities. That’s her generation speaking.

I’m of the mind that friendship, like everything else in life, evolves. So we evolved. Men and women of course can be friends, but the scope of their friendship has limitations. Men can never begin to understand the femaleness that is unique to us. So with time, a fissure is bound to develop. But as women, we can only grow closer.

Speaking of evolution, I’m reading your book. Just now, you say? I get very little time to read until I come here. Robert comes and goes, and I have no job or household duties to interfere. You have evolved into quite the writer. Note that I am thoroughly enjoying your book even if I’m not in total agreement. You are satirical, aren’t you? I knew you had that in you, but as I read and am entertained, I smile and feel so much pride. My best friend, Tilly wrote this! Of course, speaking of art and obscenity all in the same breath had me shaking my head. Hate to admit you made a good case, but I really could take issue with some of your conclusions. Do ignore the reviews. Your book is not ten years too late. How absurd. It wouldn’t have found a publisher, if that were true.

See what you can do to shake loose at least for a few days. Robert, Mother and I will be here until mid-August. The hospital gladly gave me an extended leave from my few hours each week since they are slow. Mother has been in such ill health, we’re hoping the sea air revives her. I fear it could be her last summer here. Age is taking its toll. Amanda and Kevin would love to see you. Kevin thinks you’re the “hippest” woman on earth.

Until then,

love and miss you,

Amanda

P.S. Speaking of hip. Remember years back when the town council feared a rash of Beats would invade our quiet corner of New York? It never came to be, but we have had an influx of hippies renting every available beach apartment. They run a few off the beach every morning. Makes our old beach town a bit more colorful.

July 5, 1969

Dear Tilly,

Damn that I never pushed Mother to get a phone. The closest neighbors aren’t here this summer, and so I’ve run to the Beach Café twice to use the pay phone, but to no avail. You’ll probably get my message off your answering machine before you get this letter. Traveling? Wherever you are, I hope you can check messages.

Mother passed soon after the last fireworks faded in the sky, bundled in a blanket beside the campfire and happy. She so loved the fourth here on the beach.

Her funeral is tomorrow. I know, so soon, but her plot is here on the other side of town and there are no great arrangements to be made. This is the way she wanted it. If you can’t make it, and I doubt you will, have a thimble of Calvados in her honor. She’ll be looking down and smiling on you.

Love,

Amanda

July 8, 1969

Dear Tilly,

Your note and your flowers arrived. I’m absolutely furious with you. I immediately went to the Beach Café and called, but your phone has already been disconnected. Fury doesn’t really describe my mood.

California? It might as well be China. A change of scenery, new breath of progressive air—I don’t even know what you mean. And it doesn’t matter what reasons you have. How could you leave without coming to see us first? You could not have possibly made this decision overnight. I’m hurt you chose not to confide in me.

I read your letter aloud to Robert, and his reaction was the epitome of bland. He’s been your friend much longer than I have, and all he did was shrug and shake his head.

I wanted to throw the flowers at him. When tears of anger toppled onto my cheeks, the man finally came to action. He took me in his arms, stroked my hair and said he was sorry.

Why should he be sorry when you’re the one who hurt my feelings? But he truly was. I blabbered on about losing my friend and didn’t he feel the loss. He said he got over the loss of you some time ago.

At last my suspicions of a cooling in your friendship with Robert were confirmed. He assured me you love me and that miles do not change a friendship. I can visit you. I loathe flying, but his reassurances did ebb the flood.

I’m still angry with you.

Amanda

July 3, 1970

Dear Auntie Tilly,

So good to hear from you and glad the letter from you arrived while packing up the car to come here. I’m so happy your life in California is as totally cool as it was in New York. San Diego sounds amazing and the pictures of surfing on Black Beach are spectacular. Don’t try it, you wild and crazy lady!

Thanks for your open door invitation. Of course, Kevin and I would love to visit. That would be so far out. Kevin finally has some vacation time coming, but now we have to save for…

The baby!

Can you dig it? We found out yesterday, and I tried calling you before we left for the beach. I’d love to have heard your voice when I told you the news.

Mom is beside herself, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Daddy smile so big. Kevin and I had made a conscious decision to have a baby six months ago. I didn’t dare tell Mom, first of all in case it never came to be and second of all, she’d have started on the you-should-be-married kick. I’m sure the subject will surface eventually. But for now, everyone is so happy that we’ll peacefully bask in the joy while we bask in the sun.

When do you think you’ll come visit us? Mom said you’d mentioned the possibility when you two spoke last week, but didn’t say when that might happen. I can’t tell you how happy I am that Mom is speaking to you again. Mom does know how to hold a grudge, doesn’t she? I never realized she was like that. Auntie, I have to say, I didn’t think you’d up and leave without a good heart to heart with Mom. Whatever your reasons for the silent get away, whatever I’m not privy to, I’m glad the hard feelings have been set aside.

Kevin has plopped beside me on the blanket with my lunch. He’s been my slave ever since we found out I’m carrying his progeny. If I’d known how I’d be the center of everyone’s world, I might’ve gotten pg sooner. Ha! I get all tingly every time I imagine a life growing inside of me.

Can’t wait to talk to you when we get back to the city. I think I need to know who the handsome dude in the sidewalk café picture is!

Keep on keepin’ on,

Love and Peace,

Amanda

July 5, 1970

Dear Auntie Tilly,

What a wild and crazy fourth it was last night. At least from my perspective. There was a glitch or something with the fireworks because the whole sky went dark before the grand finale. So, there we sat on the beach and I opened my mouth, thinking of the letter I’d just sent to you, and asked Daddy if he had any idea what had gone down between you and Mom. Daddy looked utterly blank, or at least tried to, when Mom popped up and told me not to stick my nose where it didn’t belong. She sounded like she was reprimanding a child, so I reminded her I was carrying a child and didn’t need to be treated like one. I was miffed.

At that moment, there was a distant pop and a flash of light on the ground from the launch area of the fireworks. It was nothing but a flash and a noise, and when that cleared, Mom patted my hand and said how happy she would be to be Amanda’s grandmother. That only sufficed to piss me off more. What an assumption on her part! I reminded her of how I feel. If my baby is a girl, Kevin and I will choose our own name for her. You know how I’ve always thought it absurd that the women in this family can’t get a little original.

And then the most bizarre thing happened. I don’t know what impacted me more, the way Mom’s face looked utterly sad or the words Kevin breathed in my ear when he squeezed my hand. “Wouldn’t this world be that much more beautiful with another Amanda. Our Amanda.”

It’s as if the whole world stood still for thirty seconds. That’s all the time it took for me to see the beauty of life, of the life in me and how we’re all connected. Very trite in words, but I swear, Auntie Tilly, it was a moving thirty seconds.

When I announced, right there and then, if our baby is a girl she would be named Amanda, Mom’s face lit up, Kevin kissed me and the fireworks finale exploded overhead. What a celebration!

Pregnancy is bliss!

Talk to you soon…

Love and peace,

Amanda

August 12, 1972

Dear Tilly,

It’s only been a couple of hours since I watched you drive away, waving your hand high with your scarf trailing behind you. You’re the picture of perfect in a convertible. Little Amanda kept waving long after you disappeared. And I’m going to kill you if she picks up calling me Granny instead of Gamma. How very Tilly of you to do that to me.

Although, I’m glad Amanda and Kevin could make it up for the last day, I’m sorry that Robert couldn’t make it for at least one day while you were here. But not too sorry—I liked our girl time alone best. I don’t think I told you enough how great you look. California sun really agrees with you.

You’re right about Robert. He still works too hard—a true workaholic. I think only death will slow the man down.

Your visit was long overdue. I miss you already, so I might have to swallow my abhorrence of flying before this year is over. If I can’t, I’m glad we’ve made a pact that this will be the week we will forever meet here.

Love,

Amanda

July 23, 1984

Dear Auntie Tilly,

A bittersweet letter in that seeing you was good, but the reason was awful. I know you said to call as soon as we were back in the city, but Mom can’t be convinced to return quite yet. Kevin had to leave, but Amanda and I have stayed on. This old beach house, the warm sand and the salty air affords her some comfort. I just didn’t want her to be alone.