Not your parents' choice for a role model

Tuesday 14 October 2008

This house has over twenty rooms, including the ones in the finished basement, and the one I am in most often is my bedroom. My room is almost in the middle of the house, facing the ocean. Between the two windows in my room, directly opposite the bed, is a tall bookcase hutch before which sits my beloved little round blue table with its matching Windsor chairs, where I sit and read or type what seems like several megabytes of long rambling text like this every day.

After school I usually hide away up here and work on homework, unless it is so nice a day that it begs to be outside. A few times, even when we were not actually sunbathing (meaning: dressed) Jessy and I have sat outside and read or done textbook questions. A few too many times I have had to stay up after dinner doing it when I would rather be playing with J.J. and Lisa or watching TV. Tonight ''Greek' was on so I insisted on getting it done now. It was not cold but I lit a few small logs on the fire and gradually got out of my clothes till I was leaning back in my chair, in my pretty peach panties and plain white socks with the history textbook propped against my bare middle. I hate the whole American Edwardian era but I read fast and was making good progress.

I was interrupted by footfalls, at least three sets of them, coming up the north stairs to the gallery. 'Oo, what's that smell?' one girl said-- obviously sensing my fire-- and they proceeded and past my door into Jessy's room. There they emitted their impressions of Jessy's room too, which is undeniably cute in mauve and cream, and talked on for a while. I recognised the voices of Rita and Josie, and tried to pick out if there was someone else's too. They asked questions about the room, and then Jessy was apparently showing them some pictures, and then--

And then I was distracted enough that the book got tossed up onto the table.

On my way out I grabbed the pale blue shirt that I use for a cover-up and got it buttoned once or twice in the dozen steps to Jessy's room. 'Oh, there you are,' said Jessy, and they all looked up from the computer on her desk, Rita, Josie, almost-silent Rachel the class president, and Jessy. 'We were just talking... about....'

'Maybe we should have been talking about her,' Rita said, and her eyes went over me with something like amazement.

I smirked. The reality is that none of these girls has any sisters as close in age as Jessy is to me, and they're just not used to how we are here. This blog shows that I am definitely NOT too shy to walk into my sister's room in my underwear-- and, as of today, even if there are friends there. We're all girls; why is this an issue? Rita's attention was that she admires me-- I already knew she admires me anyway, for being what I am and doing what I do, and I like that she does. It's a responsibility that I really do want. And Rita's a sweet girl anyway. 'Cute,' I said to her, and the others laughed a little. 'I was just coming in to complain about the noisy neighbours here.'

They all laughed a little at that too. 'Oh, sorry,' Jessy said, like they did at HOH. 'Were you resting?'

'No. Reading. History. Ughh.' I made a face and they laughed. 'What have you got here?'

I could have moved to close one or more of the other buttons but I wouldn't. The shirt was on and not going anywhere. I wouldn't look like a priss (or more of one than I look already). We looked at Jessy's pics and Jessy went in and got my laptop (this one) to show them too. The whole time Rachel seemed unwilling to get too close to me. It's hard to keep a polite distance when there are three or four of you crowding round one laptop computer screen and you have to forego certain personal dignities like worrying about whether your twice-buttoned shirt hangs open too far. I say this now because at the time I really didn't care-- I was comfortable and happy and didn't want the girls to think I was anything else, even though I knew that the shirt was hanging open. What have I got to be ashamed of? --it's only God's handiwork, and all the credit that can be given to me is that I eat sensibly, or very little, and I like swimming and I know how to put on makeup and the few clothes I do wear.

Later I went back to check on my fire and they followed me in to see my room too. Rita ended up sitting with me on the edge of my mostly-made bed with the laptop in her lap. I kept leaning over and pointing at the pics till she finally backed away a little. I suppose she had just realised she was alone in the bedroom with a girl in panties and a half-open shirt and that she should be feeling awkward. I blushed-- I knew what she might have thought-- and sat up straight. 'Sorry,' I said.

She shook her head, staring at the screen without blinking. 'It's okay,' she said quietly.

I relieved her of the computer, shut it down and left it on my table. 'Don't worry about me,' I said from there. 'I'm always like this. Really it doesn't mean anything.'

She looked up and smiled. 'I know.'

I raised my eyebrows. 'You know?'

She nodded. 'Chris said something about it.'

I laughed out loud. 'Oh, that's right! Well, she would!'

Rita nodded. 'I envy you, Janine. You... have the coolest life, and all this--' She waved a hand round the room. 'And you're not.... You know.'

I shrugged, standing there with one hand on the table, letting her look at me. 'I'm not what?'

'You know.... Not conceited.'

I scoffed at that. 'Why would I be conceited?'

She smiled. 'You wouldn't be... and that's why.'

'Why what?'

Now that I look back on this I realise I was really putting her on the spot. Maybe it was unfair of me. My parents have this lovely house and I have this cool old-fashioned room with a canopied bed, and I just walk round this place in my underwear or even less all the time. I know what Rita must have thought and what Chris must have thought to talk about it with her. It was unfair of me to impose on poor Rita to make her answer anything... but that's how I am, always going at people with the questions, although at the time I really didn't recognise what she was trying to say at all.

We were saved from this awkward exchange when Jessy, Rachel and Josie, invaded my room en masse from the gallery with a curious little Lisa in tow. 'Hey,' Jessy said. 'What are you guys doing in here?'

Rita looked up first. 'Just looking at pictures,' she said, and with a glance at me. 'And talking.'

'Talking,' Josie teased. 'And without us?'

Jessy and I met eyes. I knew what that meant.

They left after tea, which I took with them all and Mother and our little ones and I hadn't dressed any more than I was. Jessy came in the front door after seeing them go. Josie's mother had brought them. I sat in the parlour playing piano till she came in, shut the door, and leaned on the end of the piano till I stopped. 'What was that all about?' she finally asked. 'With Rita-?'

I shrugged. 'Nothing,' I said. 'I just think Rita wants a role model.'

Jessy laughed out loud. 'And we know who THAT will be!'

I shrugged and resumed playing, just anything really, just chords. 'She's a nice girl,' I said, 'and I will do what I can for her.'

Jessy raised her eyebrows at me. Then she said seriously, 'Yes, I know you will. That's why they all love you.'

I looked up, but she only made that sly little smile and went off.

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