Beaches by Iris Rainer Dart Page A

funny thing. Let the funny thing be that this was a lie, and that everything she was picturing now that was making her feel weak wasn’t true.
    “The funny thing is that I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t feel dirty, and I’m not the least bit in love with him. You know the old myth about the man you give your virginity
    to being the first man you fall in love with. Well, I’m not. And I think that’s really great.”
    But I am! Cee Cee screamed inside. Outside, she just stood there, looking at the ocean, unable to look at Bertie. Beautiful Bertie. With John Perry.
    “I’d never tell another soul, Gee,” Bertie said hastily. “I mean, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed, because he’s a wonderful person and everything, and I’m glad it could be with him my first time, but I had to tell you.”
    A chill came over Cee Cee, and she wished she’d brought a shawl.
    “When was it?” she asked quietly.
    “Last night,” Bertie said. “After I dropped you off, I went to his house to go over a list of the stuff I needed to tell him before I left tomorrow, and one thing led to another, and . . . well … I wanted him, Cee Cee. That’s why I was so tired all day today. I didn’t get back to Aunt Neetie’s house until one-thirty.”
    One-thirty. A half-hour before Cee Cee arrived at John’s. Maybe if she’d gotten there earlier. No.
    “I knew you wouldn’t be shocked,” Bertie said, hugging her. “You’re so sophisticated. You probably think I’m a baby, making such a big deal about all this.”
    Cee Cee forced a smile and shook her head to show that she didn’t think Bertie was a baby, and the two walked back up the beach to the party.
    That night was the first time since Cee Cee arrived in Beach Haven that she slept without waking in the middle of the night. She dreamt about Leona. In the dream, Cee Cee was lying in the bathtub and Leona came into the bathroom, put the seat down on the toilet and sat on the lid watching Cee Cee wash herself. As Cee Cee moved the soapy washcloth slowly over her body, Leona got angry and shouted, “How many times have I told you not to touch yourself? Don’t touch yourself, and don’t let any
    boys touch you, either. Don’t touch yourself. Cee Cee. Cee Cee. Cee Cee,”
    “Cee Cee.” It was Bertie’s voice. “Cee Cee?”
    Cee Cee turned over. She opened her eyes, then squinted from the glare of the early morning sun. Bertie stood beside the bed, dressed for travel in red linen slacks and a pink T-shirt. When she saw Cee Cee was awake, she sat on the bed next to her. Her eyes were filled with tears.
    Why was she here? Hadn’t they said their good-bys last night because Bertie and Neetie were leaving early this morning to avoid the traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike? Hadn’t they exchanged promises to write more often, more newsy, and try to plan more visits together? And hugged? And promised unending loyalty? Well, Bertie had promised that. Cee Cee had nodded. Then why was Bertie sitting here with tears in her eyes?
    “Gee,” Bertie said softly. “John just got a phone call from your father. Leona’s dead. It was a heart attack. I’m so sorry, Cee Cee.” Bertie began to cry. Cee Cee didn’t.
    “I’ll help you pack. Neetie and I will get you to the bus, and then she and I will go on. John had to go into Newark to get some stuff for the theater, so he’s gone- but he said to tell you you can come back as soon as you feel like it. He says you can do Annie in Annie Get If our Gun at the end of the summer if you want to.”
    Cee Cee turned and put her feet on the floor. There was sand under them. There was always sand everywhere in this fucking place.
    She was glad to be leaving. Glad to be going . . . home? What was at home if there wasn’t Leona? Nathan, behind his newspaper? Now he’d have to talk to her. Be close to her. Maybe he’d want to take her bowling again like when she was a little girl. She remembered hearing him ask Leona if he could take Cee Cee