BENDING BIRCHES
Saturday, February 21, 1998
Marlowe and Nora trekked through the Flats, toward the stone wall they’d completed last summer.
It was Marlowe’s sixteenth birthday, and Enzo was making steak au poivre and crispy potatoes, per her request. He vowed it would be better than anything she could order in a New York restaurant and then shooed them out for a walk to work up their appetites in the brisk winter air.
They perched for a moment on the stone wall, catching their breath. The wall already looked like it had been there forever, already seemed to have weathered many winters.
“So, I know you asked your parents for that travel easel this year. But now that we’re alone, you can tell me your real birthday wish,” Nora said, nudging Marlowe’s shoulder with her own.
The two of them always shared their birthday wishes. Contrary to the rule about wishes not coming true when said out loud, Marlowe believed sharing with each other only made the wishes stronger.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh,” Marlowe said. She could already feel herself starting to blush.
Nora feigned shock at the request. “Laugh? Me? Never.”
“I want to be kissed.” Marlowe buried her face in her hands. “It’s pathetic, I know. But it would be even worse to turn sixteen and beunkissed! So that’s what I want.”
Nora sat cross-legged on top of the wall, and she leaned forward and touched Marlowe’s knee.
“It’s not pathetic or embarrassing at all,” Nora said. “It means you have high standards and you’re waiting for someone worthy.”
Marlowe squeezed her friend’s hand. No one else in the world could have made her feel so much better with so few words.
While they sat on the wall, Nora confessed to Marlowe about how much she hated school these days. Ever since she and Sean broke up, she didn’t have any friends to hang out with.
“Everyone is stupid,” Nora said as she wiggled atop the wall, the rock beneath her wobbling. “I hate the boring teachers, and I hate how everyone only cares about the next basketball or baseball game. I hate this whole town.”
Marlowe hummed in sympathy. “I don’t have many friends at my school either. No one like you.”
“But you’re in thecity—you have so much to do outside of school.” Nora slouched, her entire body deflating. “I’m only happy when you guys are up here.”
“It will be summer in a few months.” Marlowe linked her arm through Nora’s. “And I’ll be at the Gray House the whole time. We just have to wait until summer.”
“Let’s not wait!” Nora hoisted herself down off the wall. “Let’s jump in now.”
“Jump in the river?” Marlowe glanced at the ice clinging to the edge of the nearby bank.
“I heard it’s good for your metabolism! I think they call it cold plunging.” Nora was practically bouncing on her toes. “Come on, let’s go to the Bend! A birthday plunge!”
“You’re crazy, but okay, let’s do it.” Marlowe laughed and grabbed Nora’s hand as they jogged the half mile through a thin layer of snow to the Bend.
Silvery ice lined the edges of the swimming hole, but the center was churning. The Bean rarely froze over.
Marlowe and Nora spent several minutes deciding how many items of clothing to take off. “Obviously, we have to take off our boots and coats, but is it better or worse to jump in with shirts and jeans on?” Nora wondered.
“Our jeans might be too heavy,” Marlowe pointed out. “Once they’re wet, they’ll weigh us down.”
She remembered a summer long ago when Nate pushed her into the Bean fully clothed as a joke. She wasn’t scared until she tried to pull herself to the surface, and her sneakers held her back, like weights around her feet. She made it up, but for a brief moment, she was terrified.
“I think underwear is best,” Nora said. “We’ll just have to get dressed with our dry things quickly and run.”
Marlowe nodded. “Agreed.”
Their squeals and whimpers of excitement echoed off the water’s surface as they rapidly stripped down, tossing their sweaters, shirts, and jeans in a pile, until they were standing together in bras and panties.
Marlowe felt a burst of self-consciousness about the shadow of hair peeking out from her underwear, but Nora didn’t care. She had her own hair. She’d once confided that she hated shaving down there unless she absolutely had to. For swimsuits and whatnot.
