September 28, 1978
One warm September afternoon, Tully, Jennifer, and Julie sat around a kitchen table in a house on a street named Sunset Court.
‘Tully, go home,’ said Jennifer Mandolini. ‘I don’t want you at my party looking like this.’ She pointed to Tully’s face.
Tully Makker ignored her, busy stirring the French onion dip she made rarely but well. ‘One more taste and I’m out of here,’ she said. But the Mandolini kitchen smelled of apple strudel, while at home the kitchen smelled nothing like apple strudel. Tully was sitting at the table with her feet up on Julie’s lap, and Tully was comfortable.
Jennifer reached over and took the dip away from Tully. ‘One more taste and there’ll be nothing left.’
Tully watched her put the dip on the kitchen counter and sighed. Jen was right. It really was time to go.
Turning back to Tully, Jennifer added almost apologetically, ‘We’ll have nothing for the guests, right, Jule?’
‘Right, Jen,’ agreed Julie Martinez, sipping her Coke.
Tully reluctantly got up from the table, strolled over to the kitchen counter, and picked up her onion dip. ‘Jennifer, they’re going to be much too busy dancing with you to have dip,’ she said, running her finger around the rim of the bowl. She began to hum ‘Hotel California.’
Jennifer wrested the bowl away. ‘Makker, it’s five o’clock!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve got a two-mile walk home,’ she said, getting Glad Wrap and covering the dip, ‘and a two-mile walk back. And I don’t have wheels yet to cart your ass around.’ She put the dip in the fridge. ‘Get the hell out of here. Go put your face on.’ And then to Julie, ‘Julie, why won’t she leave?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Julie. ‘She’s never liked it here before.’
‘Girls, girls,’ said Tully. ‘You can leave me alone now, I’m on my way.’ Tully did not go, however; quite the opposite: she walked back to the table, sat down, and put her feet up on a chair.
Jennifer perched down next to her. ‘Go,’ Jennifer said, but gentler. ‘I don’t want you to be late, that’s all.’