“I mean, not that it matters,” I added.
Isabella groaned. “Poetry? Sibbs, honestly, I didn’t take you for one of those. Tell you what. I’ll give you a recital myself.” She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and in a suitably theatrical voice yelled, “Candy is dandy, but—” until we shushed her.
“Trust me.” Sylvia opened the pages onto a bookmark fashioned from cigarette foil. “You’ll enjoy this. It’s from our patron saint herself.” She cleared her throat. “My beloved approaches me like a thief in the night. In the hours of darkness, my love lies beside me, his golden shaft a ray of sun that pierces my body, filling me with—”
Isabella and Katherine were howling with laughter and Sylvia caught the giggles from them so bad she had to stop reading.
“It doesn’t say that—” Isabella grabbed the book from Sylvia’s hand, wiping her eyes. She gestured for the flashlight and squinted at the page. “I can’t believe it! Good for old lady Pentila.” Isabella rose to her knees. “Filling me with waves of light. He is my beloved, and as his consuming love fills me”—she began wheezing with laughter—“I quicken with growing anticipation—”
While the other three moaned with laughter, coughing and dabbing their eyes, I fixed a sort of incredulous expression on my face, as if I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Isabella broke off to take a deep swig from the bottle. Sylvia clutched my knee.
“Oh, poor Bridge—look at your face,” she shrieked. “Oh, Bridge, you’re so disapproving—don’t be disappointed in us.”
I shook my head, figuring that “disapproving” was better than admitting I didn’t follow their joke.
“Don’t be mad,” Sylvia said, holding her hand out for the book. “We have to have some fun here with no boys.” Katherine passed her the wine and Sylvia wiped the rim of the bottle before taking an unsteady sip.
“If you say so,” I said, hoping it sounded like a tease.
“Speaking of boys, have I told you Patrick sent me the most darling letter?” Sylvia said dreamily. She began talking about Patrick’s job and how he had flown in an airplane on two separate occasions. Katherine was unattached, but her sister was a volunteer nurse with a VA hospital and had just married a neurologist from Rhode Island.
“I miss her, though, now she lives in Providence,” Katherine said with a sigh. “Her room is empty and it’s terrible to look at. Me and Mom just start blubbering whenever we go in there.”
Sylvia reached over and took her hand. “You should make a special date, once a month, just for the two of you. Me and Bonnie make it a point to go to the stables every third Saturday. That way we get a whole day of sister time.”
Katherine took a sip from the bottle and turned to me. “How about you, Bridge?”
I was watching a brown moth flutter around the mouth of the flashlight. “How about me, what?”
“Anything! Everything. Sisters. Brothers. Do you have a beau? Some lacrosse player crying for you into his supper club at Yale?”
I blushed. “No.”
Sylvia shook a cigarette from her pack. “And are your siblings married?” She broke off. “Gee, Bridge—do you even have siblings? Or are you an only child like Bella?”
They watched me, poised with polite inquisitiveness.
“Yeah,” I said. My heart began a hollow pound.
Katherine squinted. “Yes to which? Siblings or only child?”
A roaring flush ran through my body. I pressed my fingernails into my palms. “Sorry?”
Katherine laughed. “Bridge, you are such a dreamer. Do you have any siblings or is it just you?”
I swallowed, pressing my fingernails harder into the flesh. “Just me,” I said at last.
Sylvia sighed. “That’s too bad. Although at least you don’t have to share your wardrobe.”
Katherine nudged her, and they started talking about garden party attire. I looked off into the bowl of the lake. My cheeks were burning. I could feel Isabella staring at me. I couldn’t bear to catch her eye. What was she thinking? Was she disappointed in me? Was she ashamed of my omission? Was it really an omission? At the academy it certainly felt like I was my own individual—liberated, independent, finally.
“So aren’t your parents dying to marry you off?” Katherine said, frowning.
“It hasn’t been raised,” I said stiffly. I looked down to see Isabella’s hand on my arm. She shot me a dazzling smile.
“Briddie’s mom is just as strict as mine,” Isabella said breathlessly. “No dating until after graduation. And her trust is all tied up until she’s twenty-one. Isn’t that right?”
After a moment, I nodded.
“Gee, that’s rum luck,” Sylvia said, the smoke from her cigarette billowing above the flashlight. “A no-dating rule? You may as well be a nun!”
Katherine laughed. “I’m sure your mom already has her mind set on the right suitor for you.” She winked at me conspiratorially. “I know what Irish Catholics are like.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. Was it as easy as that? A convenient omission, a convenient vagueness. And there it was: total, glorious mediocrity. Meddling Catholic aunties and summer regattas. Boarding school hijinks and garden party silk. I was woozy with relief, exhilarated, askew. My eyes prickled.
“Do you think the nuns ever regret it?” Sylvia was saying. “Missing out on having a family?”
Katherine pinched her on the shoulder. “Darling Sibbs, you can tell you didn’t go to a Catholic prep school. I think those gals knew what they were letting themselves in for.”
“I suppose they’re all so ancient it doesn’t matter anyhow,” Sylvia said.
Isabella leaned back on the blanket to cross her legs. “But some of the nuns are practically our age, like Sister Teresa.”
Sylvia blinked. “Which one is she?”
Katherine nudged her. “Heavens, what’s wrong with you, Sibbs? She’s the one that fetches the mail, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Sylvia tapped herself on the head. “Gosh, how awful it sounds. Having just one year where you can speak. You’d have to fit everything you ever wanted to say into it!”
Katherine laughed. “You’d never stop talking.”
Isabella chewed her fingernail. “And then to be cooped up here the rest of your life. What a waste.”
Sylvia grimaced. “Lord save us from a lifetime at all-girls’ school.”