Alma Mater (10 page)

for their dazed expressions in their late thirties, and their frantic search
for business success, the fountain of youth, or spiritual fulfillment. But at
twenty, she could only see that her external choices would be severely
limited if she followed her heart and her body. She knew she could force
her body to do whatever she told it to do. Her heart was quite another
issue.

Nor could she yet fathom the usefulness of the self-knowledge and
the knowledge of society that a gay person learns.

She read Mignon's latest note. "Do you think Hojo's nails with lit
tle stars on them are cool? If you saw them, I mean."

Chris wrote back. "Hard to miss. With nails like that Hojo could
pass for a really tacky mandarin. Something tells me Hojo is good at
ordering takeout."

She could hear Mignon giggling on the other side of the door. She
had two older brothers, and she liked Mignon, liked the idea of a sis
ter. Sisters often seemed so close. Like R. J. and Bunny. Then, too, sisters
could be of the Sissy-and-Georgia variety. The energy between sisters
was so different from what she felt with her brothers—whom she did
love. Defining it baffled her. She couldn't put it into words. She could
only feel it. She wondered if other women felt that way
_;
that female energy was different from male. And what did men feel? Did they tell her the truth, or did they try to protect her? Well, maybe it wasn't bad
to be protected.

A fresh sheet of paper rustled as it was shoved under the door. She
and Mignon had used up the first sheet.

This one read, "People say that Vic is one of the most beautiful
women they have ever seen. Mom, too. I kind of feel like a donkey
next to two thoroughbreds. Give me some advice. Real life stuff."

Chris propped the paper on her knees. A breeze swept in through the open windows. She scribbled in her large, neat hand, the letters
slanting rightward. "Mignon, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For
starters. And you're at the coltish stage. You won't look good now.
You'll look better later, if you take care of yourself. Worry about
what's on the inside more than what's on the outside. That's the extent of my advice." She signed it, "The Nonauthority."

A long silence ensued while Mignon digested the response. Finally

the next installment arrived with a drawing of a pig. "Are you telling
me I have to lose weight?"

Chris wrote, "Yes. If you're bitching and moaning about Vic and
your mother being so beautiful, do you really want to be standing next
to them being less than the perfect you? Now I have a question for
you. What's Charly like?"

A shooting star arched over the James, a flashing tail silver as a
trout trailing behind it. Chris took it as a good sign.

Back came Mignon's note. "Charly is hot. I wish I had a boyfriend like him. He's smart, too."

Chris felt a sliver of jealousy, then dismissed it. "Mignon," she
wrote, "you will have the boyfriend that's right for you. Of course, if
you lost the weight, who's to say you couldn't steal Charly from your
sister. (Just kidding.)"

The notes flew back and forth until finally Chris wrote, "I'm
sleepy.
I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams."

_T

he sun's round rim climbed over the horizon. The heavy silvery
mist enshrouding the river turned pink, then red, then gold. It
would be nine o'clock or so before the mist lifted today, and

when the sun rose above the James, the whole river would be colored
bronze as that mist would reach for the impossibly deep blue sky.

Vic silently walked along the river's edge. She couldn't sleep, so
she thought she'd greet the dawn, her favorite time.

When she turned back toward the dock she saw her mother—a
middle-aged Venus slipping through the pale silver light, striding
toward the dock.

They met and then walked to the boat, wordlessly getting in and
casting off, R. J. at the oars. Because of the fog, she rowed only a hun
dred yards off shore. A larger craft wouldn't see her until it was too
late, although she doubted anyone else would be out on the water
now. If anyone was fishing, they'd be quietly drifting.

"Dreaming with your eyes open?" R. J. asked, resting her arms on
the oars.

"Sort of." Vic noticed her mother's strong hands on the oars, the
muscles in her forearms. Had R. J. given birth to sons, they'd have
grown up to play for the Miami Dolphins or the Kansas City Chiefs.

"Great that Bunny retired the trophy. She needs it."

"Trouble with Uncle Don again? I thought that was over."

"Oh, it is, but it takes people a long time to come back. Trust bro
ken is difficult to mend. He swears on a stack of Bibles that Nora
meant nothing to him, he'll never do it again." R. J. inhaled the mois
ture of rich air. "Who knows, maybe he even means it. I worry about
her being alone. You see, no matter what happens, I have you and
Mignon. I'm better off, I think."

"Mother." Vic folded her hands together as if in prayer. "1 don't know if you'd have said that when I wrecked Dad's car my junior year
in high school."

"I said plenty else." She laughed, the sound enlarging as it traveled over the water.

"Guess Mignon and I are pretty expensive."

R. J. replied, "Well, that's part of motherhood, but you've worked every summer since you were fourteen. You've helped out."

"If I quit school now, I'll get most of this year's tuition back. I can
go to work and help more." Vic's voice, quiet, seemed in counterpoint
with the lap of the water.

"Absolutely not. Vic, you get that idea right out of your head."

Vic lowered her voice, her tone resonating, deeper. "The last time Dad lost our money, he was almost ten years younger. He's sixty years
old, Mom. You forget how much older than you he is. He can't make it
back. I don't think he can." She held up her hand because R. J. was ready to interrupt again. "Mignon wants to go to college. If I start
working now, I can help with that, too."

"You're almost finished, Victoria. One more year."

"I can finish later. We can't lose the farm, Mom."

"Victoria, I forbid this. It's too foolish to discuss." R. J. lifted her head
as a blue heron appeared out of the fog, swooping low enough to touch.
"I remember the last time, Mom," Vic said simply.

R. J. remained silent. They drifted. Fish jumped out of the water. The mist began to thin. They could see the undersides of the ducks flying overhead.

Vic finally spoke again. "If I marry Charly, assuming he asks me, I
don't know if his parents will give us money for a wedding present, and
I
don't want to disappoint you."

"You won't disappoint me. And of course he'll ask you to marry
him and his family will make your life very comfortable."

"You think?"

"Yes. They'll do whatever needs to be done. Buy a house. Set him
up in business. They're that kind." She lifted the oars. "Think he'll want
to live at Surry Crossing?"

"I don't know. Every now and then he talks about entering the pro
football draft.
I
really don't know."

"Honey, I expect he'll do whatever you ask. Now,
I'm
not Bunny,
but I can give you a bit of hard-won wisdom about men. Ask for the
big stuff early while they are still head over heels in love with you,
while they still need to prove themselves."

"Mom." Vic was surprised to hear this from her mother.

"It's just the way it is. As time goes by they take you for granted a
little. They love you, yes, they do, if it's a good marriage, but they lose
that urge to
be
the knight in shining armor."

"I guess." Vic leaned toward her mother. "Sometimes I think I don't
know anything about men. But when I hear the word
marriage,
I hear a
steel door shutting behind me."

"Well, that's natural,
I
guess."

"Did you?"

"Feel that way?" R. J. shook her head. "I was totally, completely in
love with your father. I didn't hear a steel door, but certainly I had to
wonder what I was getting myself into. What would the future bring?
That sort of thing. We hadn't a sou. Mom and Dad could offer us a
place to live, but they weren't doing too well in the money department,
either."

"You didn't hear a steel door, though."

"No, I guess I didn't."

"Aunt Bunny always says it's just as easy to
marry
a rich man as a
poor man," Vic quoted. "If a door is going to shut,
I
suppose it better be worth it," she mused. "What are you going to do about Dad?"

"Obviously, I can't let him sell any land. I've got to get him to put Surry Crossing in my name. I think he will. It's what it will do to him.
Men are fragile."

This was something Vic did not understand. She'd heard this

sentiment expressed in a variety of ways from other women, all older
than herself. Men appeared strong enough. Why couldn't they handle
these blows? It didn't make sense. Were they truly fragile, or did women
keep them that way so they could control them? She wasn't going to
argue with her mother. She knew R. J. wasn't a manipulative woman.
R. J. met everyone, man, woman, or child, straight on.

As R. J. rowed back to shore, Vic quietly said, "I've taken a lot for
granted, Mom, and I forget to say thank you."

"Honey, you're twenty-two." R. J.'s lovely voice sounded happier.
"I took things for granted then, too. But thank you."

"What is it that Grandma Catlett says, 'Life stuff.'" Vic drew out "'life" until it took up enough time for four syllables to be pronounced,
a good imitation of the old biddy. "I'm learning about life stuff."

"Me, too."

_A

fter a day of September perfection, warm yet crystal clear, the
three young women headed back to Williamsburg. Mignon
missed them before they even passed the mailbox on the state

road. R. J. draped her arm around her younger and gave her a driving
lesson to cheer her up.

Back in town, Vic dropped off Jinx, who invited them to dinner
Wednesday night. As the following weekend would be an away game,
Vic was "off duty," as she put it. Jinx decided they'd all come back to
Surry Crossing.

Vic laughed and thanked her for the invitation to her own home,
and then drove Chris to her house. They pulled into the driveway.

"You could have parked at your place. I could walk over." Chris
smiled as she opened the door. "Thank you. That was the most fun. I'm
ready to turn around and go back."

"Next week. Jinx just invited us."

Chris leaned toward her, paused, and then slid out the door. "You
know where I live, so come on over when you feel like it."

"You, too." Vic wanted to cut the motor and follow Chris upstairs,
but she knew she'd better call on Charly.

She cruised down to his dorm. The football players, regardless of
seniority, bunked together and ate together at the training table.