Famous Women

CW: Anti-semitic comments

2/16/26

2800 words

FAMOUS WOMEN

Kim's brother Willis and his new squeeze, Rachel, paddled off. Kim scooted away from Pedro. The float shifted. She reached in the cooler, pulled out two beers, flipped one to Pedro, “It’s cool having an older bro.”

One handed, he snagged it, “Brew, cool, bro.” and stretched out on his back. The rough boards itched. The full sun made him muzzy. He pressed the can to his forehead. What was up with being left alone on the float with Kim. Part of some plan. The reason why she'd told him to call. He scanned the tree lined shore, muttered, “Like pretty please picture peace perfect.”

His gravelly voice tugged at Kim. She pictured him a child learning English. He was anything but a child now, with his night black eyes, wild hair, lean, bronze chest. He was more than cute but he couldn't be her boyfriend. Impossible. She took a long swallow, arched her back. The air was heavy with pollen. A crow cawed. She twisted around.

Pedro sat up, pointed. A craggy black shape flashed overhead chased by two jammering blue jays. He saluted her with his can, wondered if he'd had enough, then popped the tab. The beer tingled. He liked birds. He knew three kinds: crows, pigeons, and jays. He liked their caws, their cooing, their darting and soaring. He liked their freedom. When he was little he'd spread his arms wide and raced around the kitchen until his mother shouted, Loco. He drained his can, chuckled, remembered asking if his name was loco. He waved the empty over his head. “Where?”

Kim nodded, “Deep six it.” She sailed hers over her shoulder. It splashed, wobbled, tipped up right, spun twice and sank. “Get it to float ten seconds, you get to drink the last one.”

“ ‘That a rule?”

“ “My rule. My float. Bro’s brew. I rule.” Kim swayed to unheard music.

She unsettled him. Girls he knew never made rules. Mothers maybe but that had grown stale. At school the same kids who called him Spic called her the Queen of Tease. Before Easter break, she'd told him to call when he got back from his soccer tourney. He had. He shook his head.

Kim shimmied in place, humming, “fame I'm going to make it.” She glanced sideways at him. Last year her brother had been captain of the soccer team and Pedro, a new sophomore, was the star striker. Her friends had swooned over Willis and Pedro. They said he was dangerous. Not knowing which one they meant pleased Kim. Now Pedro sat next to her in the first row of Honors history.

Pedro pointed again. In tandem, the two jays soared back triumphant. “What were you singing?”

She raised her voice, “Irene Cara, Remember, remember, remember. Fame.”

He shook his head.

“But you must've heard this.” Her voice rose:

“Fame, I'm gonna make it to heaven

Light up the sky like a flame

Fame, I'm gonna live forever

Baby, remember my name

Remember my name

Pedro kept time with his hand. He liked her silvery voice.

She broke off, clenched her teeth, waiting was an agony. “Can't get it out of my head.” She shook herself.

He stretched. “What was all that shit earlier about your bro being famous?” He cracked his knuckles.

Kim winced, “Stop that. It gives me the willies.” She flicked her hair behind her ear. “It started at breakfast. Bro announced he’s taking a year off, moving to L.A. Rachel knows someone who knows someone. Mom had a fit. Willis was unbelievably cool. He said,” Kim tucked her chin down, deepened her voice, “But, mother, what have all your travails been for if not to see me famous?” She clapped her hands.“Being famous is that a testosterone kind of thing, you think.”

“ “Not the one to ask.” Pedro shrugged. His gold ball trophy for most goals in the tourney, he’d stuck in the back of his closet. Last year, when he’d told his mother his counselor had suggested honors history her voice had yanked on him, “Don't you be getting out of your lane and making fools of us.” Sunlight dazzling off the water, blinded. He shielded his eyes. “Famous like how?”

Kim turned both hands palm up. “What did you think of his new friend?” She patted at loose strands coiling about her neck.

Pedro peered at her. She was back lit. He knew to walk softly. “Rachel?”

“ Did you like her?”

He shrugged “Sure.” He thought of her big boobs, grinned. “I guess.” He had no idea where this was going.

“ She’s Jewish you know.”

“ No, I didn’t know.” The beer buzzed behind the bridge of his nose. His back felt hot. He pulled his towel over his shoulders. “What makes you say so?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Her big nose. And, besides, it’s the first thing she told Willis.”

“ You got any lotion?”

“ I didn’t know you ever needed it?”

He grunted. “Dark bread burns just like white.” and bit back, tastes better too.

Kim rummaged in her tote with KMM stitched on its side. “I’m not sure she’s right for Willis.” She fished out a tube, flipped it to him. “First of all, she’s too tall for him and second of all, she’s got that terrible laugh.”

Not since first grade had he heard anyone say first of all and second of all. It sounded stupid, like Kim was learning to climb stairs one step at a time. Pedro tried to catch her eye. “He’s a head taller than she is.”

Her eyebrows rose, “So?”

He shed his towel. “Well, you just said.”

“I know what I just said. She just looks tall. Don’t you think she looks tall? And she’s got a tall face and that nose. It doesn’t all go together.” She reached back into the cooler. “Another?”

He shook his head, wondered if he'd be sober enough for school tomorrow. The lotion felt cool on his shoulders.

“ Put some on me.” Kim inched closer, worried even after her shower, she smelled from the stables. She turned her back, tipped her head up, took a long swallow. “Way up, where I can’t reach.” She undid the knot holding her top, cupped her hands over the little, yellow triangles.

Pedro squirted a gob of lotion on his hands. He leaned forward. Her back was satiny. He pressed his palms flat, felt the dull thud of her heart. He had a hard on and was glad he’d jacked off before phoning. When he’d called, her voice sounded like he’d woken her. She’d made him repeat his name. She couldn’t go out because her brother was visiting. Pedro was ready to hang up when she said, why didn’t he come up and, weather dependent, they’d go swimming. He'd said, “Where I come from the weather's always good for swimming. I don’t like being dependent.”

She'd laughed, “It's the last day of freedom. So.” and told him to get off the train in Pelham. She’d pick him up.

Outside the old fashioned train station Pedro had waited in direct sun. A black Mercedes SUV with tinted windows pulled up. The driver hopped out followed by three blond girls. Pedro recognized two of them, school friends of Kim's. They wheeled their bags past without seeing him. He watched crows circling over the station. They rose higher, spiraled out of sight. Two guys in a red convertible pulled up. The guy in the passenger seat pointed “Yo. You. Jose”

Pedro stepped back from the curb, he was the only person outside. The driver gunned the engine. Pedro wanted to tell them to fuck off.

“Yo. You seen Carleeta.”

He shook his head. The guys wore muscle shirts. The one driving had a red arrow piercing a fist tattooed on his shoulder. He smirked, “Short girl, dark skin, like you. You find, you tell.” They laughed. The car peeled away kicking up gravel.

The ornate clock over the station was frozen at eleven thirty. Kim had said ten minutes. Pedro knew time was elastic. His mother repeated time is different for rich people. He didn't believe that. He knew to be patient. It helped in soccer. With the ball at his feet, he could make time stand still, control the universe. He watched the iridescent purples of a puffed up pigeon's breast rocking side to side, strutting behind a female like no matter what he was going to get his. The female tipped her head first to the left, then to the right, keeping two paces ahead of the stalking male. The male made a deep warbling sound. The female edged close to the curb. The male followed brushing his tail against the stone. She hopped up. The male crouched lifted one wing. Before he could follow another male swooped down and started waddling after the female making the same, low, warbling sound. The first male kept right on strutting, only now he was third in line. Pedro laughed. Pigeons were the same all over.

A car horn sounded.

“Yo.” Willis waved.

Next to him in front Kim pointed behind her, “Get in. Been waiting long? Rachel here was taking a shower and Willis couldn’t find the car keys and then.” Pedro slid in. Rachel hugged her beach bag closer, nodded. Her “Hi” was drowned out by a blast of Cara, Fame. The back seat was dark, cool and filled with the scent of shampoo. They drove straight to the lake. Sunlight poured down on them. Pedro remembered reading it was like a shower of gold. Now on the float it felt more like lead. His head felt stuffed, his arms heavy.

Kim held her top in place with her forearm and finished her beer. Pedro felt her swallow. She flipped the can underhand. It toppled on its side; sank. Pedro slid his hand along the slick skin beneath her breasts. Her head turned. He leaned forward. She gave a shivery laugh, leaned away. “What do you think you’re doing?” She pushed his hand off. “It’s a public lake.” She slipped away.

Pedro reached in the cooler. “What’s bugging you?”

“Mom.” She turned sideways; retied her top. “Last night Willis showed up with Rachel and right away mom started in.” Kim raised her voice an octave: “She just loved Rachel’s heels and could she tell where she got them and if it wasn’t a secret how much they were and.” Kim pulled a pair of sunglasses from her bag and slid them on. “First of all, mom doesn’t wear heels in the summer. Nobody does. And, second of all,”

“Why do you always say first and second of all.” He crushed the empty can. It made a crinkling sound. “It’s such a dorky way to speak. It sounds like you’re just learning to talk.”

“Shut up.” Kim turned to face him Indian style. He stared at the yellow band between her legs. “I can say all of the of alls I want and besides you interrupted. Mom hates shoes with heels. And, third of all, she was just pandering. It was like.” her voice trailed off, she fumbled with her hair, let it trail through her fingers, picked at the split ends.

Pedro couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses.

Kim yanked her hair straight up. “Know something I just learned.” She gave her rope of hair a tug. “My Mom's got a law degree. Imagine that. I never knew that. It's sort of sick when you think about it. First of all, at home she plays the perfect house wife like central casting, second of all, the only one she lawyers is me. She never says no to anyone else.” She wrapped her hair back into a bun. “Like last night, after dinner, she made this big deal about sleeping. First, she says, is Rachel going to sleep in with Kim? But then, she says; oh, no, that’s impossible, Kimmy has to get up early for her riding lesson. So, second of all, it'll be no trouble at all to make up the sleeper couch in the guest bedroom.”

Pedro nodded, stared at her.

Kim looked away, plunged on. “All the time, Willis is tipped back in his chair rolling his eyes. At least Rachel had the decency not to laugh. I wanted to throw something at mom. Like Willis is a baby and they’re not humping like rabbits. She looks like a rabbit, doesn't she, with that long, funny face.”

Pedro tried to skip his flattened can. It splashed and sank.

“You know why mom switched me to riding lessons? Two years ago she gave up on figure skating for me. She realized I wasn’t going to any Olympics. First of all, I didn’t have the body for it. Not athletic enough. That’s the euphemism. I got boobs, that’s what it is.” Kim put her hands flat on the deck behind her and arched her back. “And mine are just as fine as that Jewish princess Willis is drooling over.” With the back of her hand she brushed wisps of hair off her forehead. “Second of all, I’m fine for a career as an Olympic equestrian.” Kim tipped to the side, slapped her butt, “I’ve got a good seat.”

Pedro grinned, tugged at his suit; stretched his legs out. He squinted. Kim appeared far away. The beer was dancing behind his eyes. “You gonna be steady ready for school tomorrow?”

“Piss off” Kim flipped her dark glasses up, “that's one bummer reminder of time grinding me to dust. Did Mrs. Fletcher give your project the go ahead?”

Pedro nodded. He was one of one in honors history but Mrs. Fletcher treated him with respect.

Kim sniffed “She would.” She didn't conceal the snark in her voice. “What's your topic?”

“Urban the sixth. You know the disputed Pope.”

“Of course”

“Of course, what?”

“ Of course, you're Catholic, aren't you and so is Fletcher, the head stretcher.”

Pedro flushed. He hadn't been to church in years. It wounded his mother. “Got nothing to do with it. It was a real big f-up scandal in Church history.” He looked at Kim. “You know about it?”

She dipped one shoulder, adjusted her bikini strap. “I wanted to do a famous woman.”

“And?” The float rocked in the wake of a passing boat.

“I got shot down. I wanted to do Joan of Arc. Submitted, four pages; complete with illustrations and citations and all and the bitch said,” Kim made air quotes, “More myth than history. Told me to start over. After all that hard work, making me a week behind, like she gives a fig.”

Pedro opened the cooler, “You sound about ready for another?”

She grinned, held her hand out.

He plucked out two more, handed her one, drained his, spat into the empty spiraled it high in the air, watched as it slapped the water and shifted about. Pedro was on seven when it sank.

Kim said, “Name a famous woman.”

It sounded like a trap, like he’d missed something in the conversation, “Any famous woman?”

“Yeh, just one.”

Water slapped the side of the float. “Helen of Troy.”

“No.” Kim stiffened.

“No? OK. She’s famous; she’s a woman.” He cracked his knuckles. “What am I missing?”

Kim made a face. “Famous because she was a ho. She’s only famous 'cause she screwed two men. That’s such bullshit. Name a woman who was famous for being a woman, doing something.”

“You want me to say Joan of Arc. How about The Virgin Mary.”

“You don’t have to try to be obnoxious.”

“What did I get wrong this time?”

“ Not a woman, a virgin, duh.”

“ That’s good.” Pedro laughed. “I’ll have to remember that. It’s like a riddle.”

Kim turned away. “You can’t do it, can you? You don’t get it, do you? You can’t name a single woman. That’s what’s wrong with the world. There isn’t a single, famous woman, who is famous for just being someone, someone significant, famous for doing something. It’s all got to be tied up with sex. Like, next you’re going to say Madonna ‘cause that’s what she sells. Sex.”

Behind him Pedro heard voices. He turned and saw the canoe gliding towards the float. In the back of the canoe, Rachel reclined between Willis’ legs. Pedro heard Kim shift on the planks. Her hair brushed his chest. She felt warm. He looked down. She lifted her face. They kissed. Her tongue darted in his mouth. He was hard again.

She put her arms around his neck, whispered, “Too bad it’s a public lake.”