POINTING UP

That same summer, I wrote a letter to Nikki, who was in Europe:

“Dear Nik-nak,

“I’m sitting here on my bed among the litter and cursing my gigantic bottom, which refuses to fit into a size 12. It’s too big for the jumper I’m making—and I don’t have enough scraps to make pleats or even insets.

“There’s not much to write about. I can just tell you about the same things I do every week. In my ceramics class I’ve made a number of bowls on the wheel and some coil things. The best one was on a shelf that caved in; it broke, of course—my bowl, I mean. I got the knack of using the wheel right away—it seemed so natural it felt like I’d been there all my life. It’s really fun, but it takes patience. Oh, and I’m gonna end up with muscles in my arms!

“My driving lessons are coming along quite well if you consider three dented fenders a day par. I’m kidding. Seriously, I did almost run over Linda’s brother down by the Oaks Theater. And I did start down a one-way street, going the wrong way. Which reminds me that Larry Birdy drove Linda and me backwards down a one-way street on the way home from church the other day. We were facing the right direction, it’s true, but somehow it still didn’t seem all that legal.

“Yesterday I was walking to school when a driver-training car zipped by and someone whistled. I think it was my driving teacher, which was embarrassing. His name is Mr. Bracelin—he looks like Anthony Quinn and enjoys bellowing along with the car radio, ‘I’m ‘Enery the Eighth I Am!’ in a cracked voice, while ogling all the female legs that pass by. Did I mention there are only only two of us driving students, instead of four, so sometimes we get to drive for half an hour apiece—all over the hills or wherever we want to go?

I’ve got a job for the next two Tuesdays modeling for Earl Pierce’s painting class. Linda was considering nude modeling for him, but she changed her mind at the last minute. Now she’s got a job in a cannery from 6:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., six days a week. Sounds grueling to me.

“Last weekend, we went to see The Childhood of Ivan—a wonderful movie! Also we spent one night in sleeping bags in the Steinkes’ yard, eating marshmallows and discussing sex till all hours of the night. I told Linda how I’d explained to my childhood friend Kathy, when I was ten, that sex was something that happened to your parents when they were fast asleep. Also that when I was older, I couldn’t figure out the mechanics of sex because no one ever told me a guy’s erection pointed up—naturally, considering gravity, I thought it pointed down. We went sailing with the Steinkes one Sunday, and on the 4th of July we watched the Berkeley Marina fireworks from their boat.

“Well, Nik-nak, I hope you’re having a wonderful summer! But don’t wait too long to come back.”