All Summer Long

Part One -- July
Page Two

      (July 8) When Mari awoke the next morning, Blaine was already gone. A note on the kitchen table explained, "Since you don't have work today, I thought I'd let you sleep. See you for dinner. Love, B." Mari glanced at the clock. It was nine-- later than usual, but still kind of early. She had little enough to do today, so going back to bed for another hour or two was tempting, but not as tempting as a light breakfast and a long soak in the tub. She got through her toast and banana without incident. She drew the bath, dropped in a perfumed bubble-ball, and stripped down. Like a clichˇ, the phone rang.
      After having ignored the phone all last night, Mari figured she'd better answer it or risk having someone show up on her doorstep, wondering if she'd fallen and couldn't get up. She pulled on a bathrobe and trudged out to the kitchen, where she could get the cordless.
      "Yeah?"
      "Mari? Why didn't you pick up all last night?" Daniela's voice was excessively annoying in the morning.
      "What do you want?"
      "Geez, can't a girl call up her big sister to talk without getting the CIA treatment?"
      "Not when it's you."
      "Okay, fine. I was just wondering if you'd heard about Doreen--"
      "Yes." Mari walked back into the bathroom and dropped the robe.
      "Well, we're going to give her a baby shower."
      "We who?" Mari eased into the tub, keeping her phone carefully above the water.
      "The girls from color guard. Now, I know you're not in guard anymore-- are you?"
      "Nope. Not interested."
      "But we thought you'd-- wait, did you mean you're not interested in the guard, or in the baby shower?"
      "Yes."
      Daniela sighed loudly in Mari's ear. "But she needs baby stuff!"
      "Why? Is she going to raise this one on her own?"
      Dani was, unbelievably, silent.
      "Didn't she tell you?" Mari pressed on. "She's been pregnant twice before. The first time with twins."
      "You're lying." But Dani didn't sound convinced of her own accusation.
      "Sure. Go ahead and ask her." Mari smiled at the 'click' as Dani hung up. So much fun, destroying your little sister's rosy world-view. There was a small part of Mari, deep inside, that felt kind of bad, like she wasn't really one to be casting stones... but Doreen really did need to face the truth about her own promiscuity, and Dani was a good one to help her do that. Maybe this would be Doreen's last baby... at least until she grew up and got married.
      Mari was of the mind that, even if you were Catholic, as she and Doreen nominally were, it was okay to be on birth control. Better to prevent a pregnancy than to bring a child into the world-- the over-populated world-- at a time you couldn't care for it. She and Blaine, in fact, had decided there would be no children until they were both finished with school and they had a real house, with a yard and everything.
      The phone rang again. Mari reached a damp hand out of the tub and picked it up. "Yeah?"
      "I hate you!" Click!
      Dani could be very succinct, when she wanted to be.
      Mari dropped the phone and dunked under the bubbles.

***
      Mari's hair was still a bit damp and curly when Blaine got home for dinner that night.
      "Hey, mermaid," Blaine greeted her, dropping a kiss on her head.
      "Hey. Hot today, huh?"
      "Yeah," he said, dropping into a chair. "I think I'm melting."
      "Iced tea?"
      "Thanks."
      Mari hummed something Beach-Boy-esque as she turned back to the counter and finished chopping a small pile of walnuts. Blaine sipped his tea and watched her.
      "Did you think of a new project?" he asked.
      "Yes, yes I did," Mari grinned. "I'll tell you after dinner, though. I want your full concentration on the food tonight."
      "Why?" Blaine's eyes narrowed.
      "Because it's good, dammit. And I'm thinking about making it for your parents' shindig next week."
      "Can I ask what 'it' is?"
      "Pasta salad." Mari mixed the walnuts into the big bowl at her elbow.
      "I'm having pasta salad for dinner?"
      "Be quiet. It's a hearty dinner salad."
      "You sound like Martha Stewart." A hand came out of nowhere to smack Blaine upside the head. "Sorry!"
      "Pasta, chicken, veggies, raisins, walnuts, and a creamy non-mayonnaise dressing. It's cool. Perfect for this lovely muggy weather."
      "Hmm..." Blaine said, still warily regarding the bowl that was now on its way to the table.
      Mari shoveled a spoonful of pasta-chicken-veggie salad onto Blaine's plate, then hovered expectantly as he took his first cautious bite. And chewed. And chewed some more. And swallowed. And sat there looking thoughtful...
      "Well?!"
      "S'good." He took another forkful.
      Mari collapsed in her chair and sighed.
      "What?"
      "You. I spend all afternoon inventing that recipe, and all you can say is 's'good'."
      "It is a culinary masterpiece," Blaine enunciated around a piece of chicken.
      "I guess I should be happy that you're too busy eating to compliment me. That's actually a stronger compliment."
      "Yup." Blaine dug into the bowl and served himself another heaping helping of salad.
      "Or you're starving and don't care what you eat."
      Blaine paused, fork in midair. "I could never be that hungry. I always care what I eat."
      "Really? Is there anything you wouldn't eat?"
      He chewed and thought for a moment. "Yeah. Stuff that's not food."
      Mari rolled her eyes and served herself a plateful of salad. They sat and ate in silence for a while, then Blaine finished off his second plate and decided to take a breather. He told Mari about his day at work. Two kids had gotten stranded at the end of the jetty during high tide, despite his many, many whistle-blowings and threats, and if it hadn't been for all the beach-goers disturbed by those whistle-blowings and threats, the parents of the little delinquents might almost have gotten him fired. Summer people.
      Mari nodded. "We get 'em in the Bodega, too. Think they own the town."
      "Which is ridiculous," Blaine said. "Daniela owns the town."
      Mari frowned, which was not the reaction Blaine had expected. Usually, Mari laughed at any comments about her sister's imperial attitude. A frown was very much off-kilter.
      "What did she do?"
      "Oh, she hates me, that's all."
      "That's nothing new. Is it?"
      "Nah. Just some stuff about Doreen. I think I shattered some ideals."
      "Ah."
      Mari finished her salad and took their plates to the sink. "You were done, right?"
      "Sure," Blaine nodded, finishing off his iced tea and going to the fridge to pour some more. "What was that project you came up with?"
      "Okay, this one involves you directly."
      "Ah, not just my money, but my person this time? I'd better sit down. In the living room." Blaine carried his iced tea out to the living room and sat down on the futon. Mari sat on the coffee table in front of him.
      "The idea is... a band."
      Blaine nodded slowly.
      "I could sing lead, and you could play guitar, and we'd need to find, like, a drummer and a bassist, I guess. And we could do cover songs, and you could write some new ones, and we could get all famous and stuff!"
      "I think you skipped a couple steps there, but it sounds like fun," Blaine agreed. "I just hope we have enough time between work and school."
      "Sure. Now, we just have to find those other people."

***
      (July 15) "Mom? Dad?" Blaine poked his head in the front door of his parents' home. Behind him, Mari stood on tip-toes trying to look into the house that she had called home for the first week after their wedding.
      "In the kitchen," Mrs. Brison's voice echoed down.
      The couple headed toward the back of the house, Mari carefully balancing a bowl of pasta-chicken-veggie salad in one hand while pushing her sunglasses over her hair with the other.
      "Hi, you two," Mrs. Brison beamed as Blaine and Mari entered the kitchen. "What's that you've got?"
      "Salad," Mari said simply.
      "Pasta salad," Blaine clarified, "with chicken and veggies and other stuff."
      "You didn't have to," Mrs. B. said.
      "Well, I felt like I should. Besides, with all these guys, a little extra food is always a good idea," Mari shrugged, gesturing out the French doors to where Mr. Brison was firing up the grill, and Chris and Davy were already engaged in a good-natured wrestle.
      Mrs. B smiled beatifically, and Mari got the feeling that she was cherished, not as a daughter-in-law, but as a long-awaited daughter.
      Davy caught sight of Blaine through the doors as he tumbled across the lawn and shouted out to his brother. Blaine dashed outside to join the ruckus, leaving Mari and Mrs. B alone in the kitchen.
      "Anything I can help with?" Mari grinned.
      "If you'd like, you can grab that basket of silverware, and the napkin holder, and put them out on the table. Everything else is just waiting for the steaks to be finished."
      Mari nodded and headed out, silverware and napkins in hand. She loved the old farmhouse that Blaine's family lived in. His father had built a brick and redwood deck off the back door, with what was not so much a grill as it was an outdoor kitchen built into the northwest corner. There was a nice wrought-iron table and matching chairs on the deck, but out on the lawn sat a long, ancient picnic table with benches down either side. The red paint had gotten a fresh coat that spring, and a cheery flowered tablecloth across its top flapped in the light breeze. It was on this table that Mari set down the silverware basket and napkin holder.
      Not far across the yard, Blaine, Davy, and Chris were engaged in some kind of tag-cum-wrestling game that was born out of the synergy of brothers who were truly affectionate. Mari could tell, watching them, that even though Blaine was well intent on giving Chris the noogie to end all noogies, there wasn't anything malicious in the action. Mari was never sure, when she and Daniela and Pandora got into a fight (especially the physical ones), whether her sisters were only playing.
      Mrs. Brison came out and, even before she could ask, assured Mari that there was nothing else to do inside. The boys would carry out all the salads and sides before the steaks were finished. It was just the way they'd always done it.
      Mari wandered around the yard, the way she'd done during her week or so living there, whenever she found a free moment. About halfway up the long, slow rise of the lawn sat the old barn, now a garage for Mr. B's cherished antique car collection. Mari had really been surprised at how much she had in common with Blaine's father, at least as far as cars and music were concerned. But, then, those were the qualities that had originally attracted her to Blaine, too. And it was probably why Blaine and Mr. B didn't get along well most of the time. Too much alike.
      Mr. B called them all to attention then: the steaks were ready! The boys scrambled to the kitchen to bring out the bowls and trays of carb-heavy salads and cruditˇs. Mari wandered her way back to the picnic table. Mrs. B had brought out pitchers of lemonade (hand-squeezed, although Mari couldn't imagine where the woman found the time) and iced tea, as well as frosted glasses to pour the beverages into.
      Mari sat between Blaine and Davy on one side, and Mr. B, Chris, and Mrs. B sat along the other side. Bowls and pitchers were passed in a hectic but definite rhythm around the picnic table, and after a few minutes of frantic face-stuffing by the brothers, the conversation fell into its own fine rhythm.
      Chris asked Mari something about being excited over Senior Year, which she replied to with a vague hand wave.
      "You don't care that you'll be a senior next year?" he asked, unbelieving. He'd just gone through his senior year and graduated a month ago.
      "School lost its attraction for me many, many years ago. High school has just made it worse by thrusting me in the spotlight every five minutes."
      "I thought you liked the spotlight," Blaine joked.
      Mari shook her head, serious for once. "Not for... well, I can't really talk about it. But it's why I got thrown out of the Wizarding program."
      The entire Brison family knew about that incident-- actually, most people in town did-- simply because it was the first time in recorded history that someone had needed to be thrown out of the vaulted Wizarding program. Nobody outside the program or the Wizarding community knew the details, however, and for the most part, nobody wanted to know. None of the Brisons were Wizards, although Blaine had been offered a place in the program.
      A silence had fallen over the clan, which Chris broke by tentatively saying, "But, still. Senior Year."
      "Well, it does mean I've only got a few months left at LPHS," Mari shrugged. "Anything to get out of there. And then I can concentrate on the stuff I really love," she grinned. "Like Blaine."
      "I think you already concentrate on me a lot," Blaine said, bemused. "How much more..."
      "Oh, you'll find out..." Mari threatened, leaning in close to plant a potato-salad-scented kiss on his cheek. Then she turned abruptly back to Chris and beamed at him. "And then there's music and surfing to be done."
      Davy, who'd been stuffing his face quite happily throughout the conversation, perked up at the mention of surfing. "Y'know," he said around a mouthful of steak, "The guys have been missing you down at Soul Surfin' Point, Mari."
      "Oh, have they? Well, they can just come up and help me run a household."
      "They keep saying stuff about how it's just not the same anymore, without you there."
      "You mean there's one fewer bikini on the beach," she translated.
      Blaine cleared his throat.
      "Oops, somebody's jealous," Mari giggled.
      "So, speaking of music," Blaine said.
      "Were we?"
      "Yes. You said 'music and surfing'."
      "Ah."
      "Mari wants to start a band," Blaine informed the family at large. "So she can be in the good kind of spotlight."
      "That sounds cool," Chris said. "Could you use a guitarist?"
      "Well, Blaine plays guitar. What we really need is a bassist and a drummer."
      "I could play bass instead," Blaine offered. "I have one, somewhere, and Chris is a better lead guitarist than I am."
      "I can play drums. Kinda," Davy spoke up before diving back into Mari's pasta salad.
      Mari laughed. "Sounds like a band to me!"

***
      (July 16) The phone rang.
      Mari looked up from her radish roses on the counter (they didn't look much like roses yet, but she was improving, and Blaine was eating the mistakes) and gazed pleadingly at Blaine, who was tossing the green salad for dinner.
      "Okay, I'll get it," he sighed over the third ring. "Hello?" Brief silence. "Yeah, hold on. Mare, it's for you."
      Mari groaned. "Ask who it is next time, okay?" she mouthed, before taking the phone to her ear and saying, "Yeah?"
      "Hi, it's Dani!"
      "Oh, joy. So you're not mad at me anymore?"
      "Nope. You're a butt, and Doreen's a butt, but you're my sister and Doreen's a charity case, so I can't stay mad at either of you."
      "Good to know Doreen's a charity case now."
      "Yup. Say, Mom and Dad are going out to dinner tonight, some political fundraiser thing, and I was wondering if Pandy and I could visit you. We don't know how to cook."
      Mari breathed deeply and counted to ten. "If I say no, you'll just end up on my doorstep, right?"
      "Right."
      "Then I guess it's a good thing we're having spaghetti tonight." Mari heard Dani say "Pasketti," presumably to Pandy, before wild cheers erupted. "But you have to be here in the next half hour," Mari said loudly, trying to regain her sister's attention. "Do you hear me?"
      "Yeah, half an hour," Dani repeated.
      "Do you have a ride?"
      "We're taking the bus," Dani informed her. "It'll be a grand adventure."
      "It's the S-2 bus. Get off at the hardware store and walk up."
      "I know," Dani said impatiently. "We have to leave now. Bye."
      "Bye." Mari hung up and turned to Blaine. "Set two more places."
      Blaine, who had just covered the salad and stuck it in the fridge, looked askance at Mari. "The devil children?"
      "Yeah. I can't refuse them. They'll just show up anyway. I just can't believe my parents didn't give them pizza money or something."
      "They probably just miss you, Mari. I know Dani's only been here three or four times since the end of school, and you haven't seen Pandora since you moved out."
      "I guess so..."
      "Hey, they may be Satan-spawn, but they are your family. Have a little sympathy, okay? And my brothers will be here, too. It'll be a family party, minus the parents."
      "Okay." Mari glanced down at her radish roses. "I think I'm giving up on the vegetable art. I'll just chop these up and throw them in the salad."
      Blaine was sticking another leaf in the kitchen table and wondering where to find two more chairs. "Yup. Should we just eat in the living room?"
      "That might be a better idea. We'll do a buffet line in here." Mari started getting out the ingredients for a tomato-pesto sauce.
      "Are your sisters going to eat pesto?" Blaine asked as he dragged chairs into the living room.
      "Oh, thanks for reminding me. Dani might, but Pandora definitely won't. I'll have to reserve some plain pasta." Mari popped a chunk of tomato into her mouth as she chopped and mixed. "And remind me to get all our veggies from the farmers market from now on. Damn, that's good stuff."

***

      After everyone had arrived and settled into the living room with their plates of "pasketti," salad, and hot buttered rolls, Mari started to relax. There had only been a small problem when Dani professed a deep hatred for radishes in her salad, but that was solved by saying she couldn't have any salad at all. Immediately radishes were the coolest vegetable in the world, and Dani wanted all of them.
      Mari had then attempted to use the same logic to get Pandy to try the tomato-pesto sauce, which of course didn't work. Pandy was much more constant in her food choices, never swayed by psychology or popularity.
      A comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of pasta being slurped and lettuce crunched, fell over the extended family of young adults.
      Then Chris looked up from his plate. "Say, is this just dinner, or did we intend to rehearse?"
      Mari's eyes widened and panic set in.
      "Rehearse what?" Dani asked.
      "For the band," Chris said.
      "What band?"
      "We started a band," Davy said. "Us guys."
      "And Mari," Chris added helpfully as Mari frantically gestured to him to shut up.
      "I want to be in the band, too," Dani announced.
      "No," Mari said automatically.
      "But I can sing just as good as you! Better, even!"
      "NO."
      "But--"
      "Daniela DeLilah DeSka, if you do not shut up and eat your spaghetti right now, I WILL pick you up and throw you out the window."
      Dani's mouth opened, closed-- one could almost see her thinking, would Mari really do that?-- opened again. Then, she thought better of it and stuffed a forkful of pasta in her mouth.
      "But she can sing," Chris said. Mari winged a roll at his head.
      "Mari," Blaine said. "Don't waste food."
      "Sorry. Sorry, Chris."
      "No problem." Chris was already eating the roll. "But my point is, she has that alto range that you aren't too strong in, and us guys can't get up there real strong, either. If we want that extra harmony..."
      "Okay, point taken," Mari said, "but my point is she's a pain in the neck, among other parts of the anatomy, and she'll take over the whole band if we let her in."
      "Four to one?" Blaine said. "I'll take those odds."
      "Two to three, and that's assuming you don't get seduced by her," Mari frowned at him.
      Davy choked. "I am not going to be seduced by a fourteen year old twerp."
      "Hey!" Dani shouted before dropping her plate and pouncing on Davy. "I'm almost fifteen!"
      "Oh Lord, now he's gonna get all seduced," Mari sighed.
      "Mare, in the long run, which will be easier: keeping her out of the band, or keeping her from controlling the band?" Blaine gestured with his fork as he spoke.
      "Please watch where you point that thing," Mari replied. "And I honestly don't know. My policy has usually been to keep her out of my stuff altogether."
      "She went to the bonfire the night I proposed," Blaine pointed out, "and she got along very well. Didn't seduce anyone that I noticed--"
      "Not like you would have noticed that night anyway," Mari interrupted.
      "True. But she was well-behaved and..." Blaine trailed off as Dani managed to pin Davy behind the futon. "But she'd be on stage?" he ventured.
      "And the audience does tend to be the most important thing to Dani," Mari conceded. "I still don't feel good about this. But if Davy and Chris agree, I'll let her in."
      "I agree," Chris said. "For her vocal range and talent. Does she play any instruments?"
      "Not really," Mari snorted. "She could probably handle tambourine. Hand claps."
      "Both very important," Blaine said. "Davy. Dave!"
      "What?" Davy grunted. He'd managed to buck Dani off his chest and get her into a headlock.
      "Let go, please?" she said sweetly, meanwhile attempting to kick him in the shins.
      "No."
      "Davy, would you mind terribly if Daniela joined the band?"
      "Probably," he said, "but I seriously think it would be easier than keeping her out. Ow!"
      "Daniela, don't bite Davy!" Mari leapt off the futon and into the fray.
      "I wanta sing, too," Pandy whined.

***

Page Three