Page 38 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
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.
The other day, James and I were walking on campus when I saw a girl walk by carrying a bouquet of tulips. I laughed and told him about the time you came over for dinner and brought my mom tulips because that was what you called me (I really wish I were as good as you are with nicknames. I can’t believe the best I could come up with was Bellery.) and he sighed and said, “Mags, I think it’s weird that you keep bringing up Ellery. You guys are not even friends anymore. She’s off in London, probably having the time of her life, and I doubt she even remembers who you are anymore. I love you, baby, but you need to grow up and let go of this one-sided friendship.”
Of course it upset me, but if I showed him that I was upset, it would only prove him right, so I just nodded. Then I went to the bathroom to cry a little and blow mynose. I’m getting so good at holding back the tears. Not the snot though. The snot is a river, but usually I can blame it on allergies.
Bellery, is that true? Have you forgotten about me? About our friendship? I know it is, I know that’s just what happens in life. I know these things. I’m nineteen now, you know. And you’re—god, you’re twenty-two. We’re so much older now than when we first met. I wonder what you’re like now. I wear my hair differently. I got a perm. It’s called a Japanese perm—loose waves. Well, it’s supposed to be loose waves, but it turned out horrible, all coarse and uneven, so in the end, I hacked it all off into a pixie cut. I like it, sort of. James was horrified. I thought about how you’d react (I always think about how you’d react to things I do). I think you’d have laughed and then teased me about it until I got mad, then you’d hug me for exactly two seconds before letting go. Those two-second hugs, man. They killed me. Did you know that?
Not thinking of you quite as much, but still a lot,
Tulip
February 2002
Dear Bellery,
I broke up with James. Isn’t that crazy? I’d known for months that I wanted to break up with him. It was a millionthings. The way, when we disagreed on something, he’d pinch the bridge of his nose and groan, “Oh, sweetie. You’re so young and immature.” Which would effectively shut down all discussion, because what’s the point in arguing with someone so young and immature? Toward the end, I’d yell, “If I’m so young and immature, why are you with me?” and he’d say, “Because I love you.” Which was sweet at first, and made me melt, but after he used that line a few more times, I hardened again. What has saying “I love you” ever done aside from shutting me down?
Then, of course, there was the way he disliked you, the harsh way he talked about our friendship. Our friendship is “weird” or “sad” or “inappropriate.” Inappropriate?! What is he, a Chindo mom? I still get so angry when I think about it, because I trusted him enough to tell him about how close you and I were. I didn’t tell him about how much I loved you, of course, but I must’ve told him enough for him to have a rough idea. I don’t know. Hey, did I mention that I loved you? Yeah, I was in love with you. That’s a weird thing to say over an unsent letter, but when else am I going to say it?
Wow. I just had to take a moment there. I realized it was the first time I ever wrote it down, and there was a surprising amount of feelings involved. Hah. I’m going to try this again.
Bellery, I was in love with you. Maybe I still am. Maybe I always will be. What I know is, it’s been over a year, and I still have 5,999 thoughts about you every single day. I know that even after I graduate from Cal, when I think back on my days here, they will be colored by memories ofyou. Even though you’re not here, you’re still by my side, walking with me up and down these lush hills, squirrel fishing with me (squirrel fishing is when you tie a bit of food to a string and lure squirrels to you. Berkeley squirrels are a menace because us students have trained them to be unafraid of humans.), watching the a cappella groups perform under the Sather Gate, and eating spam and kimchi fried rice at the Asian Ghetto. I’m always wondering if you’d like this and how you’d laugh at that and would you still have a little garden and would we still cook terrible things together, and would you have fallen in love with Cal the way that I did?
In the end, James was probably right about me being young and immature, because I have colored every corner of Cal with memories of us, while you’re probably painting London red, kissing English girls, and getting drunk off apple cider.
Yours always,
Tulip
June 2002
Dear Bellery,
I graduated! I now have a BA in psychology from the University of California, Berkeley. I have studied the six key areas of research: behavioral and systems neuroscience,clinical science, cognition, cognitive neuroscience, developmental, and social-personality psychology. Doesn’t that all sound impressive as hell? I focused on developmental psychology (basically studying kids from infancy to adolescence) and did my thesis on maternal psychology and social stigma, and I could just hear you saying, “Dang, Tulip. You’re all grown up and tackling serious topics now!”
You must also have graduated from your program. What was it that you decided on in the end? Journalism? Creative writing? English lit? A few times, I tried looking up what writing majors LMU offers, but honestly, every time I click through to the LMU website and their front page loads, it gets so painful that I immediately shut it down.
In all honesty, although I loved studying psychology, I have no idea what I’m going to do with it now, because let’s face it: all I will be doing is going back to Jakarta and helping out at the clinic while my parents try to find me the best possible husband.
In other news, Iris now has a BS in computer science from Caltech. Isn’t that crazy? She’s staying put in LA. Going to grad school. She did it all by herself, applied for financial aid and scholarships and stuff so she doesn’t have to rely on Mama and Papa to fund her education. If I sound jealous, it’s because I am. So very jealous. She’s always known exactly what she wants and is never afraid of defying Mama and Papa to get to her goal.
When I broached the possibility of going to grad school to Mama and Papa, they said, “Oh, Magnolia, why wouldyou want to waste years of your life on that? And if you got a master’s or a PhD, you’ll be too educated. No man is going to want a wife more educated than him.” I know that you, being American, probably won’t understand this, but they’re not wrong. I have often heard relatives whispering about some “poor woman” with a PhD turning into a spinster because she’s “too smart for her own good.” Unlike Iris, I had failed to plan in advance. I hadn’t thought to apply for grants or scholarships, so I can’t stay here. Well, okay, that’s probably just an excuse. I’m also scared to stay, because that’s such a great unknown, whereas going back to Jakarta is familiar, and there’s comfort in it. Plus, Mama’s words have always haunted me—why study so hard only to never use it? What would be the point in me getting a master’s or a PhD in psychology when there’s no way I’m going to be able to make use of it back in Indo?
Okay, wow, this has been a rant and a half. Bellery, I wonder what you’re doing with your degree. Are you writing? Are you off to cover important news, or are you writing novels, or are you teaching English? Or maybe you’re choosing to go to grad school because you love learning so much?
Sometimes, when I’m feeling extra emo, I like to think that maybe you write about me from time to time. But I know that’s just wishful thinking.
