Joy

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  She was laughing as she whacked his naked back. “Put me down, you idiot!” Max clapped his hands and started singing “Upside Down,” a three- year-old Diana Ross impersonator. Vix could feel Bru watching her as she watched them. “Okay, that’s enough,” Tim said, the expression on his face changing. “It’s time for Max’s lunch.” Von returned Caitlin to the ground. She was glowing. “See you around,” she said to him. “Not if I see you first,” he answered. “Yeah ... see you around,” Bru said to Vix. “Not if I see you first,” she answered, playing their game. Oh, she was glad she’d given her sweatshirt to Caitlin. Glad she was wearing just shorts over her yellow suit. Glad she was tan and her long dark hair swung from side to side, that her skin was clear that day, and most of all, that she filled out the top of her suit, that she filled it out really well. They went to see My Brilliant Career, about a young Australian woman who’s determined to have a career as a writer, and the man who loves her. Afterward they had a heated discussion. “She made the right decision,” Caitlin said. “He was an asshole. She’d have been miserable the rest of her life with him.” “Not necessarily,” Vix said. “She could have had him and her career.” “Please!” “Well, maybe not back then. But now ...” “Now? You think things are different now?” “Look at Tim and Loren. They both have brilliant careers.” “Oh, sure ... but which one is pregnant?” “So ... she’ll have the baby and then she’ll go back to work.” “I suppose you want a dozen screaming brats. I suppose your brilliant career is going to be mother.” “I really hate it when you tell me what I want! Just because I like kids doesn’t mean I’m going to have them. For your information I haven’t made that decision yet.”

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  But till then - till then, Flo, can’t we go on kissing, and just be glad?’ As lovers’ vows go, this one was, I suppose, rather curious; but we were girls with curious histories - girls with pasts like boxes with ill-fitting lids. We must bear them, but bear them carefully. We should do very well, I thought, as Florence sighed and raised her hand to me at last; we should do very well, so long as the boxes stayed unspilled. Chapter 19 T hat afternoon, we put the truckle-bed back in the attic — I think its castors had got permanently skewed - and I moved my night-things to Florence’s room, and put my gown beneath her pillow. We did it while Ralph was out; and when he came home, and gazed at the place where the bed had used to be propped, and then at us, with our blushes and our shadowy eyes and swollen lips, he blinked about a dozen times, and swallowed, and sat and raised an issue of Justice before his face; but when he rose to go to his room that night, he kissed me very warmly. I looked at Florence. ‘Why doesn’t Ralph have a sweetheart?’ I said, when he had left us. She shrugged. ‘Girls don’t seem to care for him. Every tom friend of mine is half in love with him, but regular girls - well! He goes for dainty ones; the last one gave him up for the sake of a boxer.’ ‘Poor Ralph,’ I said. Then: ‘He is remarkably forbearing on the matter of your — leanings. Don’t you think?’ She came and sat on the arm of my chair. ‘He’s had a long time to get used to them,’ she said. ‘Have you always had them, then?’ ‘Well, I suppose there was always a girl or two, somewhere about the place. Mother never was able to figure it out. Janet don’t care - she says it leaves more chaps for her. But Frank’-this was the older brother, who came visiting from time to time with his family - ‘Frank never liked to see girls calling for me, in the old days: he slapped me over it once, I’ve never forgotten it. He wouldn’t be at all tickled to see you here, now.’ ‘We can pretend it’s otherwise, if you like,’ I said. ‘We can bring the truckle-bed back, and pretend -’ She leaned away from me as if I had sworn at her. ‘Pretend? Pretend, and in my own house? If Frank doesn’t like my habits, he can stop visiting. Him, and anyone else with a similar idea. Would you have people think we were ashamed?’ ‘No, no. It was only that Kitty -’ ‘Oh, Kitty! Kitty!

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Siempre esperé que llegara a esto, pero Pike no da grandes pasos sin un poco de ayuda. No tenía ni idea... Extendiendo la mano lentamente, tomo la caja y la abro. Mi boca está tan seca como un desierto, cuando veo el anillo de diamantes dentro. Lágrimas pican en mis ojos y mi boca se abre. Es una rosa. Como las de mi pastel de cumpleaños que me compró el año pasado y las flores que planté alrededor de la casa esta primavera. Un diamante enorme se asienta en medio de los pétalos de platino, adornados con pequeñas piedras, y es diferente de cualquier cosa que haya visto jamás. Hermoso y especial y completamente mío. ¿Quiere casarse conmigo? Dejo escapar un pequeño sollozo, abrumada. —¿Te estás burlando de mí ahora mismo? —espeto—. ¡Estoy cubierta de barro! ¿Está haciendo esto ahora? ¿Cuando hubo cientos de cenas y desayunos en la cama este último año cuando estaba linda y limpia? Su pecho se sacude con una risa detrás de mí y envuelve su brazo en mi cintura. —Eres hermosa. Paso mi pulgar sobre la enorme piedra. Es real. Todo esto es real. —He estado planeando esto por un largo tiempo —dice—. Creerías que sabría qué quería hacer o decir, pero no puedo pensar en nada ahora mismo. —Su aliento cae por mi cabello mientras susurra—: Supongo que debí haberme puesto sobre una rodilla, ¿eh? —No, no me sueltes. —Mi voz tiembla. Trago el bulto en mi garganta y saco el anillo, bajando la caja y probándomelo. La fría banda se desliza perfectamente y tomo su mano, poniéndola sobre el manillar de nuevo con la mía encima. Su dedo todavía no tiene un anillo cuando entrelazo nuestras manos. Pero lo hará. Mi corazón se hincha como si fuera demasiado para que mi pecho lo contuviera, y estoy sin palabras. Ciertamente me sorprendió. No puedo creer que hiciera esto sin darme ni una pista de lo que había preparado.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  —¡Aprenderé por mi cuenta si dejas de revisar hasta el último detalle! —regaño a Pike, intentando apartar sus manos de mis manillares. Está sentado detrás de mí en mi nuevo cuadriciclo y pisa el acelerador, impulsándonos fuera del desfiladero y el barro. Jadeo, recostándome contra él y mi estómago cae a mis pies mientras aferro sus antebrazos para estabilizarme. Me rio. —Bueno, si llevaras el casco... —dice. —Pero no puedo ver con el casco. Estamos enlodándonos. No es como si estuviéramos yendo a una velocidad de cincuenta y seis kilómetros por hora ahí fuera. No necesito un casco para esto. Y además, sólo estoy aprendiendo a usar el cuadriciclo hoy. Tendrá suerte si subo a diecinueve kilómetros por hora. Pero si no llevo el casco, entonces no me dejará conducirlo sola hasta que haya recibido una instrucción apropiada. De ahí la lección de conducción. Aceleramos a través de la ladera, el barro salpica por todo mi nuevo cuadriciclo rojo, mis botas y jeans. También siento unas gotas de algo frío aterrizar periódicamente en mi cabello, apartado de mi rostro con una gorra de baseball, y en mi camiseta. Mis exámenes finales han terminado esta semana, y he tenido dolores de cabeza por falta de sueño sin parar, pero me siento mucho mejor hoy. Me alegra que me sorprendiera con esto. Un día de él, diversión y aire fresco es todo lo que necesitaba. Ha sido tan bueno a través de mi malhumor durante el último par de semanas mientras estudiaba, haciéndome aperitivos y siendo bueno al no distraerme mientras terminaba el trabajo. Aunque vino a la biblioteca —mi viejo dormitorio— y me tentó con un rapidito aquí y allá bajo la pretensión que necesitaba un descanso del estudio. Sí, de acuerdo.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  the bedroom door with her foot. She asks Vix to lean over Caitlin’s shoulder while they both look into the mirror. “That’s it ...” she says, guiding them, “a little closer, so that your faces are almost touching. Yes!” Vix places the headband with the attached veil on Caitlin’s head, centers it just so, fluffs it out so that bits of lace and seed pearls frame Caitlin’s lovely face. The photographer snaps that one, too. Before they leave the house Caitlin leads Vix over to a table in the living room where Abby has displayed the wedding gifts. “Look at this,” she says, holding up a porcelain figurine of a girl in a tutu, standing atop a horse. The card reads: Darling girl, if all else fails, join the circus! Vix begins to laugh. Caitlin joins her. They hold on to one another, convulsed, until Phoebe separates them. “Time to get going,” she tells Caitlin, “if you’re sure you want to go through with this.” At the church, Grandmother Somers asks loudly, “Which one is she marrying?” Dorset points to Bru. “Oh, he’s quite handsome, isn’t he? Who are his parents? What do they do?” Sharkey escorts Phoebe down the aisle. She’s relaxed, smiling. Daniel escorts Abby, who looks tense, although she’s trying to hide it. The two women sit next to one another. Vix can’t look at Bru. She prays he won’t say anything ... ever. How can he be sure Vix will keep their secret? Caitlin sails down the aisle on Lamb’s arm. He looks so proud, so loving, tears come to Vix’s eyes. Caitlin smiles directly at her. She has a feeling that Caitlin is about to pull something but she doesn’t know what. She half expects her to shove her island-grown bouquet of cosmos, bellflowers, and daisies in Vix’s face and say, You marry him. You two deserve each other!

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Quiero sonreír, porque mi corazón está henchido y se siente bien, pero también estoy llena de algo que no puedo identificar. Es como una docena de emociones diferentes inundándome a la vez, y lo único que puedo hacer es tomar pequeñas y superficiales bocanadas de aire. —Bien —le susurro. No estoy segura si lo que dijo fue lo que quería escuchar o lo que necesitaba escuchar, pero siento que mis hombros se cuadran un poco más y mi barbilla se levanta con buena disposición. Por el tiempo que dure, soy un poco más valiente, y él es mi nuevo héroe. Observo mientras saca una pequeña caja y procede a encender un fósforo, la pequeña llama brilla intensamente. Lo pone en una de las donas, todo el glaseado rosa que Shel pidió, porque sabe que es mi color favorito, brilla en la luz. Siento mi corazón calentarse por el gesto. Bajando los pies, me inclino hacia adelante, cierro los ojos y pido lo que quiero en mi cabeza, luego apago la llama. Sin embargo, no deseé lo que siempre deseo. Mi mente de repente queda en blanco, y no estoy recordando todas las cosas que necesito y quiero ahora mismo fuera de este teatro. Solo lo único en lo que puedo pensar. Ambos nos sentamos y nos acomodamos, cada uno con otra dona cuando las luces finalmente se atenúan, y el sonido envolvente nos golpea desde ambos lados del teatro. Durante los próximos noventa minutos, comemos y reímos, y escondo mi rostro un par de veces cuando sé que algo está por venir. Salto aquí y allá, y me río de él cuando lo hace, porque parece avergonzado. Después de un rato, noto que mi cabeza se inclina hacia él, y él tiene su pie sobre la silla vacía delante de nosotros con su cabeza inclinada, también, y estamos completamente cómodos. Ni siquiera se me ha ocurrido mantener una cierta distancia. No veo muchas películas con otras personas. No estoy acostumbrada a simplemente sentarme en silencio con alguien más. Los horarios de Cole y los míos no siempre se combinan, mi hermana Cam ya no tiene tiempo libre, y la mayoría de mis amistades de la escuela secundaria no duraron más allá de la graduación hace un año. Es agradable pasar el rato. En el momento en que se publican los créditos, no estoy segura de recordar gran parte de la película. Pero no he estado tan relajada en mucho tiempo. Me reí, sonreí, bromeé y olvidé todo lo que estaba sucediendo allí afuera, y lo necesitaba. Realmente no quiero volver a casa todavía. Las luces comienzan a encenderse y lentamente me siento, llevando mis pies al suelo mientras trago el nudo en mi garganta y lo miro. Él también se sienta, pero apenas se encuentra con mis ojos. De pie, paso la correa del bolso sobre mi cabeza y recojo mi basura.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  But after a while, Caitlin said, “I knew you were smart but quiet.” She caught the squares and checked out the next exercise in Juggling for the Complete Klutz . “I knew you wouldn’t ask a million questions and get in the way.” She began again, this time with three squares. “And I liked the way you smiled … and that purple T-shirt you always wore.” She didn’t take her eyes off those red squares, not for a second. Those were her reasons? But what had Vix expected? After all, she hadn’t known Caitlin any better than Caitlin had known her. Caitlin tossed all three squares into the air at once, then dove onto Vix’s bed, knocking her flat. “I just wasn’t sure you’d know how to have fun!” Vix took that as a compliment. She knew Caitlin liked her. The kind of like that had nothing to do with their secret games. Sometimes, when they were in town, Vix would notice people staring and she’d remember Caitlin was beautiful, but for the most part it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t get in the way. One night at dinner Lamb asked if she was having a good time . A good time? Vix couldn’t believe what a time she was having. It was the best time of her life! Sometimes she wished summer would never end. Sometimes she wished she’d never have to go home. She looked down at her plate filled with a heaping portion of bluefish, new potatoes, and green beans, and answered Lamb’s question in a small, quiet voice. “Yes, thank you, I’m having a good time.” Caitlin kicked her under the table and Vix was scared she might laugh. Then Lamb said, “Do you miss your family?” Suddenly Vix was filled with guilt because she didn’t miss her family. She hardly ever thought about them. Well, maybe Nathan, but that was it. She wrote to him every week, sending a small Tupperware container of sand, a plastic jar filled with water from Tashmoo, a piece of blue beach glass Caitlin had found and given to her for him. “It looks like cobalt, doesn’t it?” she’d asked Vix. “Yeah, really …” Vix had answered, whatever cobalt was. They’d laid it on a bed of cotton in a jewelry box, then wrapped the box in bubble wrap, after Caitlin finished popping the bubbles with her bare feet. “You can call whenever you want,” Lamb continued. “Don’t worry about the charges.” “Lamb …” Caitlin said, “let it go.” “It’s just that Vix is so quiet,” Lamb told her, as if she weren’t sitting at the same table, as if Sharkey weren’t, too. Sharkey, who never said a word at dinner but who made a strange, humming sound as he ate his cereal, as if he had a motor somewhere inside his body. Vix was curious about why Sharkey didn’t bring a friend for the summer, too.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  convincing herself she had ovarian cancer, like Gilda Radner. When the tests proved negative she called for applications to law school and signed up for an LSAT review course. “A pinstripe suit will never go out of style,” she told Paisley and Vix. “I just don’t know about big shoulders.” A week later she found a part-time job filling in as an assistant to a real estate entrepreneur. In early November Caitlin came to town, stopping in New York on her way back from Buenos Aires. She came directly from the airport to the apartment. She’d never met Maia and Paisley, who referred to her as Vix’s childhood friend, but she dismissed them as quickly as she did the furnishings. “Cute ... very post-college-working-girl.” She wore jeans and a big sweater, no makeup. She’d let her hair grow long. She looked fabulous. Flamenco dancing must have agreed with her. She asked Vix to spend the weekend at Lamb’s pied-a-terre at the Carlyle and while Vix threw her things together Paisley, the gracious southern hostess, offered Caitlin wine and cheese, but Caitlin declined. “Maybe some other time?” “So, you didn’t like Buenos Aires?” Maia said. “I liked it fine. But it’s time to move on.” “Where will you go next?” Paisley asked. “To Madrid, I think.” “What will you do there?” “What I always do ... study, gather experience, fuck interesting people.” “How lucky you are,” Maia said, with a hint of sarcasm. “You think so?” “You’re living out everyone’s fantasy.” “Not everyone’s.” In the taxi, on their way to the Carlyle, Caitlin gave Vix a flat package wrapped in red tissue paper. Vix opened it carefully and pulled out a gorgeous antique silk piano shawl, printed with poppies and edged in black fringe. “For your graduation,” Caitlin said, kissing Vix first on one cheek, then the other. “I always forget how much I miss you when we’re apart. You look tired. You’re not getting enough sex, are you?” Vix laughed. “Maybe I look tired from too much.”

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  Anyone with half an eye could see that my heart lay all with Kitty Butler now; anyone might guess that, having once been offered the chance of a future at her side, and kept from it, I could never return to my father’s kitchen and be happy there, as I had been before. So when, an hour or so after Kitty’s departure, I nervously put her plan before my parents, and argued and pleaded for their blessing, they listened to me wonderingly, but carefully; and when, the next day, Father stopped me on my way down to the kitchen to draw me into the parlour where it was quiet and still, his face was sad and serious, but kind. He asked me, first, whether I had not changed my mind? I shook my head, and he sighed. He said, if I was quite decided, then Mother and he could not keep me; that I was a grown-up woman, almost, and should be allowed to know my own mind; that they had thought to see me marry a Whitstable boy, and settle close at hand, and so have a share in my little happinesses and troubles - but that now, he supposed, I would go and hitch up with some London fellow, who wouldn’t understand their ways at all. But children, he concluded, weren’t made to please their parents; and no father should expect to have his daughter at his side for ever... ‘In short, Nance, even was you going to the very devil himself, your mother and I would rather see you fly from us in joy, than stay with us in sorrow - and grow, maybe, to hate us, for keeping you from your fate.’ I had never known him so grave before, nor so eloquent. I had never seen him weep either; but now as he spoke his eyes glistened, and he blinked, twice or thrice, to hold the tears back, and his voice grew thin. I placed my head against his shoulder and let my own tears rise and spill. He put an arm about me, and patted me. ‘It breaks our hearts to lose you, dear,’ he went on. ‘You know it does. Only promise us that you won’t forget us, quite. That you’ll write to us, and visit us.

• From Delta of Venus (1977)

  She could not look at him as he looked at her. Her eyes were blurred by the violence of her feelings. When she looked at him she was magnetically drawn again to touch his flesh, with her mouth or hands, or with her whole body. She rubbed her whole body against his, with animal luxuriance, enjoying the friction. Then she fell on her side and lay there, touching his mouth as if she were molding it over and over again, like a blind person who wants to discover the shape of the mouth, of the eyes, of the nose, to ascertain his form, the feel of his skin, the length and texture of his hair, the shape of the hair behind his ears. Her fingers were light as she did this, then suddenly they would become frenzied, press deep into the flesh and hurt him, as if violently to assure her of his reality. These were the external feelings of the bodies discovering each other. From so much touching they grew drugged. Their gestures were slow and dreamlike. Their hands were heavy. His mouth never closed. How the honey flowed from her. He dipped his fingers in it lingeringly, then his sex, then he moved her so that she lay on him, her legs thrown over his legs, and as he took her, he could see himself entering into her, and she could see him too. They saw their bodies undulate together, seeking their climax. He was waiting for her, watching her movements. Because she did not quicken her movements, he changed her position, making her lie back. He crouched over so that he could take her with more force, touching the very bottom of her womb, touching the very flesh walls again and again, and then she experienced the sensation that within her womb some new cells awakened, new fingers, new mouths, that they responded to his entrance and joined in the rhythmic motion, that this suction was becoming gradually more and more pleasurable, as if the friction had aroused new layers of enjoyment. She moved quicker to bring the climax, and when he saw this, he hastened his motions inside of her and incited her to come with him, with words, with his hands caressing her, and finally with his mouth soldered to hers, so that the tongues moved in the same rhythm as the womb and penis, and the climax was spreading between her mouth and her sex, in crosscurrents of increasing pleasure, until she cried out, half sob and half laughter, from the overflow of joy through her body. When Elena returned to Casutza, Madame Kazimir refused to speak to her. She carried her stormy condemnation about silently but so intensely that it could be felt all through the house.

• From City of Night (1963)

  Eating breakfast as we sat by a window looking out at the clear greenness of the surrounding hills, he had brought up a subject which he had dropped yesterday afternoon: “Those two people I told you I’d almost been with before,” he said, “when it came to actually going through with it, I couldnt—I walked out. I wanted to forget I had even—desired them. I wanted to take a shower right away, to get clean again—without having done anything. I’d return to my wife—but of course that didnt change anything—only for those few moments when I was so grateful for her.... Last night, after—well, after I came over to your bed—I wondered if it would be the same. And afterwards, yes, I felt guilty.... It was the first time—and it was all very strange—although, years ago, once, someone did that to me.... But I guess I always knew that I wanted to do it—that if I ever did go with another man, that would be the role I would play. Last night—after it happened—I sat there smoking after you feel asleep, and I thought, Well, Im not exactly young—and I suppose, as I sat there thinking—I suppose I told myself that it’s wrong to fight yourself, when so much is fighting you already.... This morning, though, I feel great!” When he got out his wallet to pay for breakfast, I saw the photograph of a young woman holding a child in her arms.... He closed the wallet quickly. We returned to Santa Monica that afternoon. Crossing the bridge leading to the amusement park, he said: “Im glad you decided to hang around with me. My vacation will be over soon—then I have to go back. I hate to think about it.... But if you want, I can see you on weekends, when I drive in. I’d like that—if you would.” Before I could answer—as we crossed the small bridge that spans the park into the beach—he said: “Lets not go to the queer part of the beach.” We sat close to the water where it rolled in fleecy waves toward the shore. Young girls were playing on the sand with their boyfriends. Couples sat with their families.... Then we both saw it, almost at the same time looking up. Both stared into the sky, watching it. A bird was swooping down from the blue, blue sky, swiftly as if determined to crash into the dark ocean. Within what looked like mere inches of the waiting water, it spread its wings gloriously and escaped into the blue of the welcoming sky. The man said thoughtfully: “It’s sad—isn’t it?—that people dont have wings too.” A beachball rolled past us. A little boy, about seven, came chasing after it. The man grabbed the ball, threw it back playfully at him, stared after the kid rushing back to a man and a woman sitting watching the kid fondly. “Lets leave,” the man said.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  She loved it that way, couldn’t imagine it feeling any better, until the blustery morning when the weather prevented him from working and he came to the boat looking for her. She invited him aboard. There was no way the two of them could fit into her narrow berth so they moved forward, to Trisha’s cabin. She hoped Trisha wouldn’t mind. And there, on the v-berth, with the rigging creaking, the halyards slapping against the mast in the wind, the boat gently rocking, there, with a lubricated condom and taking it slowly, so slowly, Bru got all the way inside her and it didn’t hurt that much, not that much after the initial quick, sharp pain, because she was so hot, so ready. And when she cried out the pain was mixed with pleasure. But she didn’t come, not that day. After, she found a few spots of blood, but they washed right off the vinyl cushions. The next day she was sore. But not so sore she wasn’t ready to try it again. When she did she began to understand what all the fuss was about. One morning Trisha asked her about Bru. When Vix told her they were lovers Trisha pressed her hand and said, “Oh, honey … are you being careful? You’re using condoms or something?” “Yes,” she answered, secretly thrilled to be discussing this with a woman of experience. “Because you have to think ahead. You don’t want to get pregnant or catch some disease.” “We’re careful.” “And is it … enjoyable for you?” Vix felt herself blush. “You don’t have to answer. It’s just that in the beginning … well, some guys have no idea what they’re doing. No idea how to make it good for you.” Vix didn’t tell her about Bru’s slow moves, about how he loved to feel her quiver. LambHE KEEPS ASKING Trisha if she can handle it when he doesn’t know how to handle it himself! Abby’s pushing for him to take a stand, to insist Vix come back. She goes on and on about responsibility, making his head ache. He can see for himself Caitlin is miserable without Vix. Quit her job. Just sails the Sunfish all day. If he asks her anything she answers, What is this … the Spanish Inquisition? What’s he supposed to do? Trisha tells him Vix is okay. She’s keeping an eye on things. The boy is from a decent family. They’re using birth control. Birth control! He doesn’t want to think of some boy taking advantage of Vix … or Caitlin. And he remembers very well what boys of that age are after … [image file=Image00006.jpg] SOMETIMES VIX would get a pang, realizing it was already the middle of August, that summer would be over in a couple of weeks and she’d be thousands of miles away from Bru, a schoolgirl again. Maybe she should stay on island for senior year.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  place, they made out like teenagers. When the taxi pulled up in front of her building, Will leaned forward and told the driver to go around the block again. She saw him three times that week. And the weekend after that. He sent flowers to her at home and Godiva chocolates to her office. “A person could get used to this,” Maia sang. Vix began to flirt with the idea of being a rich girl, of never having to worry about money again. You were wrong when you told me I wouldn’t fit in ... she’d say to Tawny. Money was Will’s favorite subject, sex his second. He chased her around his family’s Park Avenue duplex, playing hide-and-seek in the gallery, which was lined with suits of armor, like a museum. In the forest green library he unbuttoned her shirt and admired her breasts. “Beautiful,” he said. “Are they implants?” She assured him they were the real thing. “I thought so,” he said, “but you hardly ever get the real thing these days.” He invited her to the ballet. She’d never been and borrowed a crushed velvet suit from Paisley. The following week it was Shakespeare at the Public, followed by dinner at Chanterelle. Maia began to call her The Heiress. “She wouldn’t be inheriting,” Paisley said, setting the record straight. “She’d be acquiring.” “Either way ...” Maia said. That night the three of them sat around the coffee table, eating Chinese food from the cartons, while they watched Don’t Look Now on the VCR. As Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland chased one another around Venice, Maia said, “I hope Vix will invite us to Venice ... to her palazzo on the Grand Canal.” “Mmm ...” Paisley shoveled in chicken with cashews. “I’ve always wanted to see Venice.” “How do you feel about Cincinnati?” Vix asked. “Because that’s where the business is based. That’s where the patriarch has his palazzo.” Will had his own place in the East Sixties with a view of the Russian Consulate. “I think of you every night, Victoria,” he said, breathing heavily, when he finally took her there. His hand was under her skirt. “Have you been thinking of me? Have you?” Well, yes ...

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Eso está bien, ¿verdad? Es normal encontrar a otras personas atractivas. Eso sucede. Quiero decir, Scarlett Johansson es atractiva. Eso no quiere decir que esté interesada en ella. Mordisqueo de nuevo mi dona, mi mirada yendo a un lado de nuevo, observando sus brazos y los múltiples tatuajes. Engranajes y pernos, como el armazón de un robot, un trabajo tribal que definitivamente dice que fue un chico de los 90, y apenas puedo ver lo que creo es un reloj de bolsillo que parece que está tratando de romper su piel. Es como una mezcla sin ningún tema discernible, pero es un trabajo hermoso. Me pregunto cuál es la historia tras ellos. Tomo otro bocado, el glaseado rosa y las chispas arcoíris envían descargas eléctricas al fondo de mi boca, haciéndome querer meter toda la cosa en mi boca. —Sabes, de verdad me gustaría tener abdominales —comento, masticando—, pero estas están muy buenas. Suelta una carcajada, mirándome y riéndose. —¿Qué? —Nada. Simplemente eres… —Aparta la mirada como si buscara las palabras—. Eres solo, como, interesante o… ¿algo? —Sacude la cabeza—. Lo siento, no sé qué quiero decir. —Y entonces de la nada dice—: Linda. —Como si acabara de recordarlo—. Quiero decir que eres linda. Mi estómago da un vuelco, y el calor inunda mis mejillas como si estuviera de nuevo en quinto año, cuando era un halago tremendo que el chico que te gustaba te dijera que eras linda. Sé que habla de mi personalidad y no de mi apariencia, pero me gusta. Termina la dona y toma un sorbo de su soda. —Entonces, ¿qué edad tienes? —pregunta—. ¿Unos veintitrés, veinticuatro? —Claro, en un tiempo. Suelta una risa. —Diecinueve —respondo finalmente. Toma aire y suspira, hay algo extraño en su mirada. —¿Qué? —Tomo el último mordisco y rozo mis manos entre sí, apoyando e inclinando mi cabeza contra la silla. —Ser tan joven de nuevo —reflexiona—. Parece que fue ayer. Bueno, ¿qué edad podría tener? Diecinueve no pudo haber sido hace tanto para él. ¿Diez años? ¿Tal vez doce? —Entonces, ¿harías algunas cosas diferentes si pudieras volver? —indago. Esboza una tensa sonrisa y me mira, sus ojos serios. —Déjame decirte algo… un pequeño consejo, ¿está bien? Escucho, mirándolo y con mis ojos fijos en los suyos. —Avanza a toda marcha —me dice. ¿Eh? Debe ver la confusión en mis ojos porque continúa: —El tiempo se pasa como una bala —asegura—, y el miedo te da las excusas que buscas para no hacer las cosas que sabes que deberías. No dudes de ti misma, no lo pienses dos veces, no dejes que el miedo te contenga, no seas perezosa, y no bases tus decisiones en lo felices que harán a otros. Solo hazlo, ¿bien? Lo miro, y desafortunadamente, parece que es lo único que puedo hacer.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  “It’s the title of a song I used to like.” “Stevie knew what he was talking about.” Vix doesn’t tell the Countess Stevie is a she. She kisses the Countess on her cheek. The skin feels paper-thin against her lips. They’ve decided to marry in September, the best month on the Vineyard. It will be a small wedding at Abby’s and Lamb’s, just family— her father and Frankie, Gus’s parents, his brother and sister-in-law, his sister and her boyfriend—and a few close friends. Maia and Paisley joke that maybe one or the other will fall for Daniel. Vix tells them not to count on it. They’ll be married in the garden by a judge from Boston, the same one who married Abby and Lamb fifteen years ago. A week after Maizie’s first birthday, about the same time Vix and Gus are returning from Key West, Caitlin takes the ferry to Woods Hole, drives to Cambridge with Maizie, and asks Abby and Lamb to watch her for the day while she does some shopping. She calls at six to ask if they can keep Maizie overnight. She’s run into an old friend and they’d like to have dinner together. She doesn’t add that dinner will be on a plane en route to Paris. But when she next calls that’s where she is. She promises to return in a week, two at the most. Two weeks turns into two months, two months into two years.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  I thought wildly of what he might have seen. The words of the song were foolish but, unmistakably, we had sung them to one another, and meant them. Had we also kissed? Had I touched Kitty where I shouldn’t have? While I still wondered, Walter spoke. ‘My God,’ he said. I bit my lip - but he didn’t frown, or curse, as I expected. Instead he broke into a great beaming smile, and slapped his hands together, and stepped into the room to seize us both excitedly by the shoulders. ‘My God - that’s it! That’s it! Why, oh why, didn’t I see it before! That is what we have been looking for. This, Kitty’ - he gestured to our jackets, our hats, our gentlemanly poses - ‘this will make us famous!’ And so the day that I became Kitty’s sweetheart was also the day that I joined her act, and began my career - my brief, unlooked-for, rather wonderful career - on the music-hall stage. Chapter 18 I n the days and weeks following Florence’s sad disclosure I became aware that things at Quilter Street were rather changed. Florence herself seemed gayer, lighter - as if, in telling me her history, she had rid herself of some huge burden, and was now flexing limbs that had been cramped and numbed, straightening a back that had been bowed. She was still gloomy, sometimes, and she still went off for walks, alone, and came back wistful. But she did not try to hide her melancholy now, or to disguise its cause - letting me know, for example, that her trips were (as I might have guessed) to Lilian’s grave. In time she even began to speak of her dead friend, quite routinely. ‘How Lilian would have laughed to hear of that!’ she would say; or, ‘Now, if Lily were only here, we might ask her, and she’d be sure to know.’ Her new, sweeter mood had an effect upon us all. The atmosphere of our little house - which I had always thought easy enough, before, but which I now saw to have been quite choked with the memory of Lilian, and with Ralph and Florence’s sorrow - seemed to clear and brighten: it was as if we were passing not into the fogs and frosts of winter, but into springtime, with all its mildnesses and balms. I would see Ralph gazing at his sister as she smiled or hummed or caught at Cyril and tickled him, and his gaze would be soft, and he would sometimes lean to kiss her cheek, in pleasure.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Abrocho mi cinturón de seguridad y doy un vistazo por el parabrisas, una ola de calor cubriendo mi estómago mientras sonrío. —¡Cuidado con el lodo! —le grito por la ventana. No tengo idea cuán profundo es en el exterior del lado de la puerta del pasajero. Pero espero mientras la camioneta se sacude por sus movimientos en la parte trasera y entonces la puerta del lado del pasajero se abre, su mano aparece en la manija y salta al interior, sin tocar ni una sola vez el suelo. Deslizándose en el asiento junto al mío, cierra la puerta de un golpe y pasa su mano por su ahora húmedo cabello. Mis ojos caen a su camiseta moldeada contra su pecho, definiendo su clavícula y los músculos de sus pectorales y sus hombros anchos. Se gira hacia mí. —¿Qué? Parpadeo y aclaro mi garganta, recuperándome. —Nada. Solo que todavía eres bastante ágil para tu edad, ¿eh? Sus ojos resplandecen. Pasa su mano por la parte externa de la puerta de la camioneta, la mete de regreso y la sacude hacia mí, lodo deslizándose por mi rostro. Jadeo, cerrando mis ojos por reflejo y retorciéndome para alejarme. —¡Detente! —Río, extendiendo mis manos hacia el frente mientras más lodo viene volando—. ¡Sólo estaba bromeando! —¿Desde cuándo treinta y ocho años te convierte en un maldito ciudadano anciano? —gruñe, pero puedo escuchar la diversión en su voz. Más lodo vuela hacia mí y me encojo con mi espalda girada hacia él, intentando protegerme. —¡Lo siento! ¡No fue lo que quise decir! Pero no puedo dejar de reírme. Dos horas después, el cielo está oscuro y estoy felizmente relajada. Ahora no puedo pensar, incluso si lo intentara. Las facturas de Cole y las mías están en mi habitación, la matrícula con la que me voy a endeudar aún más en cuanto a mis préstamos estudiantiles que pagar, se vence en un par de meses y el empujón que siento en mi espalda sabiendo que puedo hacer más dinero si solo tuviera las agallas... Todo está a kilómetros de distancia en este momento. He estado sonriendo sin parar durante toda la tarde. —Eso fue divertido —le digo a Pike, ambos dando la vuelta a la casa hacia el jardín trasero. Estamos embarrados de lodo y no queremos dejar huellas por toda la sala, así que le sugerí limpiarnos un poquito primero con la manguera en el jardín trasero. Alzando la mirada hacia Pike, veo lodo en su cuello y sus ojos apagados, fuera de foco, como si estuviera perdido en sus pensamientos. Una pequeña sonrisa cuelga de sus labios. —¿Qué? —le pregunto. Finalmente parpadea, respirando profundamente y sacudiendo su cabeza. —Solo me acabo de dar cuenta que nunca hago nada —dice, empujando la puerta de madera de la cerca y manteniéndola abierta para mí—. No me he reído así desde... ni siquiera recuerdo cuándo.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Camino hacia el refrigerador, pasando la mano por la encimera de la isla de paso. Mientras que los otros mostradores son de un granito marrón con pizcas de negro, la parte superior de la isla está hecha de madera gruesa. La madera suave está cálida bajo las yemas de mis dedos, y no siento ningún surco de tallado. Toda la cocina parece renovada recientemente, así que tal vez no haya usado mucho la tabla de cortar. O tal vez no es un gran cocinero. Una práctica lámpara de bronce cuelga sobre la isla, y doy un pequeño giro antes de llegar al refrigerador, riendo en voz baja. Es agradable poder moverse sin toparse con algo. Lo único que necesita esta cocina para hacerme pasar de una inclinación de cabeza poco impresionada a abanicarme del calor, sería una pared de azulejos contra salpicaduras. Los azulejos son sexys. Al llegar al refrigerador, saco la carne picada, la mantequilla y la mozzarella, doy una patada a la puerta con el pie mientras doy la vuelta y pongo todo sobre la isla. Recojo las dos cebollas que dejé en el mostrador antes y bailo con la música, deslizándome y balanceándome, mientras tomo un cuchillo de carnicero del bloque y comienzo a cortarlas en finas rebanadas. La música en mis oídos aumenta, el vello en mis brazos se eriza, y siento un estallido de energía en mis piernas, porque quiero bailar, pero no me lo permitiré. Espero que Pike Lawson esté de acuerdo con la música de los 80 en su casa de vez en cuando. En el teatro, no dijo que no le gustaba, pero tampoco contaba con que viviríamos con él. Me limito a mover los labios y mover la cabeza mientras formo cinco hamburguesas grandes en mis manos y las comienzo a poner en una sartén limpia, ya calentada y cubierta con mantequilla derretida. Estoy balanceando las caderas de lado a lado cuando siento un cosquilleo que se abre paso alrededor de mi cintura. Salto, mi corazón salta en mi pecho mientras un jadeo se aloja en mi garganta. Dándome vuelta, veo a mi hermana detrás de mí. —¡Cam! —me quejo. —Te atrapé —se burla, sonriendo de oreja a oreja y pellizcándome en las costillas de nuevo. Detengo la música en mi teléfono. —¿Cómo entraste? No escuché el timbre. Rodea la isla y se sienta en un taburete, apoyando los codos y levantando un aro de cebolla. —Vi a Cole afuera —explica—. Me dijo que entrara.

• From Summer Sisters (1998)

  Then they were all dancing together, all four of them, and she was thinking, It can’t get any better than this ... ever! They were hugging and kissing, so much in love. This will be my best Vineyard memory. This will be the one I remember all my life. The kissing grew more serious, deeper, hungrier. Vix let her eyes close and she moaned softly, turned on by hot breath, soft lips, hands sliding the dress from her shoulders, hands on her naked breasts. She felt the hardness inside his shorts and reached down. “Vix ...” he whispered. “Oh baby ...” Oh baby ... oh baby? Wait! Something was wrong with this picture. The hands on her body weren’t Bru’s, the lips on her lips weren’t his. She tried to keep her eyes open but everything was so fuzzy. Suddenly she felt sick. She broke away and raced down to the water. She bounded out in the low tide ... farther and farther, until the water caught the skirt of her dress, making it billow out around her like a parachute. Then she leaped like the deer she’d once seen in the pond, until the water was deep enough to carry her. She lay down ... lay down and let the rise and fall of the sea carry her away. She could hear Caitlin’s voice screaming, “Oh my God ... Vix ... ” And Bru yelling, “Victoria ... Victoria!” Then they were coming after her but she didn’t care. She was swimming now, swimming straight out like a mermaid, all the way to China, or whatever was on the other side.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  I’m often struck by how readily this shift in perspective will put a smile on my face and awaken my feelings of connection with others. You can even deploy silent celebration to transform any minor irritation you might feel at another’s actions into a more buoyant, lighthearted moment. Any of us, despite our generally benevolent attitudes, can grow somewhat impatient with others, even if their only crime is that they march to their own drummer. Perhaps it’s the cashier who tends the long, slow line in which you wait, who chats for a bit too long with each customer, or the restaurant patron at the next table who in her enthusiasm speaks too loudly, or the free spirits who hula hoop in your town square, obstructing your shortcut. For me, it seems like just about every day, while I’m at work in my office, I find my flow of thoughts interrupted by “the campus whistler,” an older gentleman who walks throughout campus and town enjoying music on his headphones while whistling in full force. He’s actually a fantastic whistler. Yet once you’ve heard him once or twice, it gets easy to begrudge his next arrival. I’m not the only one to react this way. My colleague shared with me that when she held her class outside one uncommonly fine day in February, for a moment their discussion was pierced by the campus whistler strolling nearby. Her students groaned and grumbled. Sometimes, when others enjoy themselves in unusual ways, your first reaction can be judgmental. Take two, however, can be more charitable. My campus whistler is joyful after all. When I allow myself to savor this unique musical moment and wish him continued enjoyment, I create my own joy as well. Try it for yourself. See if you notice any new radiance or levity within your heart, or any additional softness or openness within your face. As you experiment with celebratory love, notice how readily you can turn these feelings of loving connection on and off just by bringing in others’ presumed good fortune into your awareness. Notice how others respond to you. Does the face and openness with which you meet the world make a difference? Love 2.0: The View from Here The facts are that all people face both good and bad fortune every year, if not every day. When you look out at others, even without speaking with them or knowing anything specific about them, you can be virtually certain that they are simultaneously blessed by good fortune, however small or large, and also burdened by bad fortune, again, however small or large. Each person we encounter, then, simultaneously merits both our compassionate love and our celebratory love. Love, upgraded as positivity resonance, comes in many flavors. It bends toward compassion when suffering is salient, and toward celebration when good fortune is salient.