Chapter 11 Magnolia
MAGNOLIA
Dear Bellery,
They say we have over six thousand thoughts in a day, ranging from the mundane, like “It’s a cold day,” to more complicated ones like “At this very moment, Bellery is probably stepping off the plane at London Heathrow Airport,” and “I wonder if Bellery has forgotten me,” and “I’m sure she has,” and “I hate her,” and “I miss her so much,” and “She is the worst person in the world,” and “I miss her smell,” and…
Anyway. I started at Cal a couple of months ago.
(That’s what people who go to Berkeley call it.
We don’t say, “I go to Berkeley,” we say, “I go to Cal.”) James is here too.
He got into the engineering program. We’re dating now.
He asked me to be his girlfriend the day after I turned eighteen.
If you were here, you’d laugh and say, “I knew it! I told you, he’s such a cradle robber.
” But you know what? I think it’s sweet that he waited all this time to ask me out, so you can shut it.
(I didn’t dare tell Iris because she’d tell me he’s gross.)
I’m living in an apartment two miles off campus.
I’d applied for a dorm room and got a room at Stern, which is supposed to be an all-girls dorm.
But when we went for a visit, Mama and Papa were horrified to learn that even though Stern is an all-girls dorm, they still allowed boys to hang out there.
They were convinced I was going to lose my precious virginity and also start doing drugs and getting face tattoos, so they rejected the dorm and rented me an apartment instead.
My neighbors are a sixty-eight-year-old Japanese American lady who gave me a jar of homemade pickles the day I moved in (they were delicious, you would’ve loved them) and a thirty-something-year-old white single mom with the cutest toddler.
The toddler’s name is Rebecca, and god help you if you call her Becca or Becky or anything other than Rebecca.
James is in Unit 2. That’s literally the name of the dorm.
Like they ran out of names. He hates it, so most nights, he stays over at my place.
We do a lot of stuff with each other, but we haven’t gone all the way.
He’s very respectful. Iris would roll her eyes and make gagging noises at this, I’m sure. I’m very happy with James.
I hope you’re as happy with whatever new girl you’re dating as I am with James, which is very.
Love Sincerely,
Tulip
January 2001
Dear Bellery,
Funny story: James told me you guys took a journalism class together one summer, and there was a beautiful girl (I hate the idea of a beautiful girl in your class, by the way), and you kept bugging her and hitting on her even when it was obvious she was uncomfortable.
When he told me this story, I told him my stomach hurt and then ran to the bathroom and burst into tears.
Then I was a total bitch to him the rest of the day, but he thought that was because I had cramps and not because I have had feelings for you.
Did you know that James really doesn’t like you?
He says you’re such a player, you might as well be a guy.
When you and I were still friends, if someone had told me that there was somebody out there that didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have believed them.
Because who could possibly dislike you? I mean, I HATE you, but that’s different, isn’t it?
I hate you because of what you did, but that aside, you’re so funny and awesome and likable.
Are you really the way James described you?
Did you just hide that side from me? But why would you bother doing that?
We were buddies, as far as you knew. I would’ve been fine if you’d been a player.
AS FAR AS YOU KNEW. Obviously I wouldn’t actually have been fine.
Maybe it was because you always saw me as a kid and didn’t want to share that side of yourself with me.
I’m eighteen now, I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m still so angry at you, Bellery. And I still think 5,999 thoughts about you every day.
Your buddy,
Tulip
July 2001
Dear Bellery,
I slept with James. It’s funny, you know, I had all the best intentions to remain a virgin for my future husband, but the older I get, the more I find myself wondering: Why?
Why bother? How’s he going to know, anyway?
My hymen’s probably broken already from—I don’t know—exercise, masturbation, riding bikes, yoga.
Hmm, would yoga wear out your hymen? Maybe Ashtanga yoga might.
Well, anyway. You know what I mean. Cosmo often says that many women don’t bleed the first time they have sex because of all these activities, so I was like, well, if my hymen’s gone already, then what the hell am I waiting for?
Plus, let’s face it, my future husband is probably not going to go into the marriage a virgin, is he?
And I wouldn’t know, either, unless he told me.
These were all the things I went over again and again to justify doing it, but the truth was a lot simpler than all these arguments: I was horny.
It was getting harder for me to hold back from going all the way with James, and even though he never pressured me into doing it, I could sense his frustration, could tell he wanted to.
And, yeah, a small part of me felt bad. Because he’s older and more experienced, and I started to wonder if he regretted being with me, and he waited for me.
All this time, he waited to be able to ask me out.
So I felt that maybe I owed him, just a little bit?
No. That’s stupid. I wanted to. I’m glad I did it.
It was good. Afterward, I told James, “I would like to do this again.” He laughed and said he was glad.
Bellery, I…god, it’s so hard to say this, even though I know I’m never going to actually send this, or any of the other letters I wrote you, but I am cringing as I write this.
I thought of you while doing it with James.
God, that sounds awful. I hate that I just said that.
Forget I said that. Well, you wouldn’t even know I said it, so never mind.
And afterward, I went to the bathroom to clean up (as it turns out, I did bleed, but only like two drops of blood.
It was very anticlimactic.) and I cried a little because I missed you so much. More so than usual.
Anyway, that is very pathetic, I know. The Bellery in my head is sighing and saying, “Oh, Tulip,” in a you’re-so-dumb sort of way. I know I’m being dumb. But I am thinking about you a little bit less, so maybe I’m not THAT dumb.
Oh, get this: Iris yelled at me when she found out I started having sex with James.
We’re back in Jakarta for the summer, and she acts like hot shit just because she’s going to Caltech.
I mean, she acts like she’s even hotter shit than before.
She found my birth control pills and charged straight at me like a freaking bull.
“What the hell is this?”
My pores immediately opened up and I started sweating right then and there, but I tried to play it cool. “They’re birth control pills.” I considered telling her they’re for acne, but I never had an acne problem, and anyway, why should Iris, of all people, be against that?
“Are you having sex with James?” The way she said it was so full of venom that I wanted to slam the door in her face.
“Yes.”
“Jesus. Of all the fucking stupid things you could’ve done.”
I got angry then. Who was she to tell me I was stupid for being sexually active?
“What? You—” I have to admit, Bellery, it was a challenge pointing out to Iris that she was being hypocritical without like, accidentally slut-shaming.
I almost said: “You sleep around a lot! And you’re the last person who should be freaking out about this because you sleep around so much!
” And so on. Finally, I said, “You’re sexually active too. ”
“Yes, but I never had a complex about keeping my virginity intact for my future husband,” she said. “I never wanted to be the perfect Chindo bride. You did.”
“Well, I changed my mind.”
“Did he pressure you into it?”
“What? No!” That made me even angrier. “I can think for myself, okay?”
“Well, I don’t know what you were thinking, but this is fucking stupid, Magnolia. I can’t believe you’d—”
“What is your problem?” I yelled. “It’s my body, I thought you’d finally be glad about something I did.
I thought you’d be like, ‘Oh, finally, you’re not a stupid kid anymore.
’ All these years, I thought if I were more like you, then you’d stop hating me so much.
But you know what? I’m done trying to be your sister.
Being your sister SUCKS.” There was so much more I wanted to say to her, but you know what I’m like when I’m upset.
All the snot and tears. How do people cry prettily?
Anyway, I told her to get out of my room, which she did, and we didn’t talk to each other the rest of the time.
Mama and Papa barely noticed. They were so busy at the clinic, which is a good thing, I guess.
When we left for the airport, Iris said, “When are you going to stop being so stupid?”
And I said, “When are you going to stop being such a bitch?” I was horrified that I’d said that, but Iris just snorted before going through the gate.
I’m so glad we didn’t have to be on the same flight back.
She was headed to LAX and I was flying to SFO, where James, my loving boyfriend, would pick me up.
I bet she was just jealous that I have a steady boyfriend and she’s never had one. Right? You think that was what it was?
God I wish I could talk to you about this. I wish I were talking to you about…anything, actually.
Still thinking of you every day,
Tulip
November 2001
Dear Bellery,
How come you never write back to me? I mean, sure, I never sent you these letters, so as far as you know, I never wrote you. But STILL.