Out of Time

The Age of Being

89 The Age of Being 1.) Nay and Carrie, In the High Grass Out in the high grass the two girls were, Nay and Carrie, hidden in the secret part, the smooshed-down place they thought no one would ever find, the hot high sky bright blue above them and the dry grass taller than them, rustling and whispery, yellowy brown. Out in the high grass they lay on their backs, their feet and elbows just touching, no breeze stirring, their faces flushed and their eyes squinty with sweat, staring up at the sky without clouds, the blue glare filling their heads. Their dresses were wrinkled and sticky and itchsome. Their hair was banded, thick, willful, both of them blonde and sun-bleached. They were fifteen years old, the daughters of farmers and butchers. They had no secret boyfriends.There was just them, and the field, and this ring in the center of everything. “Let’s play fashion model,” Nay said, closing her eyes. “Okay,” Carrie said. “You start.” Nay said, “I’m in Bermuda. It’s my very first shoot ever. And all of the other fashion models are jealous because I’m so beautiful , and all of the photographers just drool.” “They drool,” Carrie said. She wanted to sound mocking, but her voice came out wrong. It was a grown-up voice she hadn’t known was inside of her until then. “Well, they do,” Nay said.“They just drool and drool, so much they almost can’t take pictures. Because I’m tan and I’m beautiful and they just drool and drool.” 90 OUT OF TIME “But it’s your first shoot,” Carrie said slowly, “and you don’t know all the bad things that can happen to you. Some of those photographers are terrible. They try and talk you into posing for Playboy. They tell you about all the money you could make. They tell you about all the Playboy girls who went on to be movie stars.” “Oooh. And I’m tempted.” “You are, but I’m there, and I’m a model too, and I’ve been doing it for years and years. I’m still famous, just like you will be someday soon, but I’m not jealous. And I’ve seen girls make that Playboy mistake. So I whisk you away from those sharks. I whisk you right away.” “You save me,” Nay said. There was no wind. There was no wind and the sun was very very bright above them. “I save you,” Carrie said. “I save you.” And then the dog burst in amongst them and they both sat up straight and gasped. Something hot fled through them. They stood up quickly, elbows and damp hair, eyes blistered white. And then the dog was all tail and teeth and tongue and paws, just a puppy, black, and friendly. Nay knelt down, she looked almost relieved, and she pet him and kissed his wet nose. He licked her face. She giggled, and cuffed him, and pet him some more. She liked dogs, although she didn’t have much luck with them. Carrie stood still at the edge of the circle. She suddenly didn’t like Nay all that much. She didn’t like how quick she could be friendly with some strange dog in what was supposed to be their secret circle. She knew that was stupid, thinking that way about Nay petting some dog. But still. There was something about Nay that was like a light switch, on and off just like that, not caring about who for or when. Carrie was ashamed of herself for thinking that way about her best friend, but there it was, and she knew it was true, and it made The Age of Being 91 her sad. She smoothed her dress down and wondered what her brothers were doing. Probably still out in the fields with the tractor , or maybe this late in the afternoon they were fixing things around the barn and yard, nailing up new shingles, replacing rotten boards. She looked off into the tall grass that was not anymore quite taller than she. She looked for the path of the dog, his rippling wake. What she saw was something black and rounded bobbing far away at the top of the grass. “Nay,” Carrie said. “Someone.” Nay looked up at her, her eyes bright blue and bland. She turned...