Time of Grace

by catt dahman

  Chapter 6

  Summer passed although it was still hot, and we started junior college in our town. And that was where we were when Grace went to get a soda with Bernie Canfield.

  That Saturday evening, she told me about her date the night before while we sat in her yard, the grass cool against our dungarees. I chewed on a blade of grass, listened to a bobwhite call faithfully, and let Grace ramble on and on about her date. I was hanging out with her instead of a group of friends or a date because, well, she was more interesting.

  “I did my hair and nails,” she told me. “Dad let him in.”

  “What did you wear?” I asked like a girl would; it was a mandatory best friend question though for either gender.

  “A pale green dress.”

  “Bobby Hines said he saw y’all out.”

  “I saw him and a bunch of people.”

  “What did y’all do?”

  “We saw a movie and went for a drive.” She caught my stare and shook her head. ”We did not go parking, David.”

  I knew she hadn’t. Good girls didn’t, and she was a good girl. And I had been watching and knew she had come home early for a date night.

  “We drove around the strip, through the park; he showed me where he lived…that sort of stuff…”

  “Okay.”

  “Dad and Mom liked Bernie a lot. He’s all they have been talking about.”

  “Well, do you like him?”

  “He’s nice and polite. I enjoyed going out. My parents really like him. He put on a really good show for them to like him…all about his big plans for the future and how great he was in high school. Mom says that he’s dreamy,” Grace rolled her eyes, “and Dad says, “ ‘That boy is going somewhere’.”

  “As long as you like him….”

  “Everyone stares at Bernie as if he were Cary Grant.”

  “He is pretty nice looking; I guess I’d think so if I were a girl,” I said, “and he’s popular from high school and all.”

  “I guess. Mom goes on and on about him.”

  “The football thing? It’s king in Texas.”

  “Yep. I think that’s it, but if Bernie were so great, he’d be on a scholarship. Dad’s just re-living his glory days, I think. Maybe they like him more than you?” I couldn’t figure this one out; it was a prime example of Grace’s holding back part of herself. My feeling was that her parents were leaning on her to date Bernie but that she wasn’t as impressed with him as most of the college was. But she wasn’t saying.

  “It was fine.”

  When she said fine, it always meant she was done and not sharing anything more about something. It also meant that she had not been impressed.

  “Who is Jennifer?” she asked.

  “Just a girl Bernie once dated. Why?”

  “Colli mentioned her.”

  That was a topic I didn’t want to discuss. And just like that, I had a premonition because I guessed that there was going to be a problem. Grace asking about Jennifer reminded me of the past issues concerning her, and I knew right then that it wasn’t over, that Jennifer was going to be a problem again: this time for Grace.

  Jennifer was the only girl I had ever known Bernie to really date; they had broken up some half a year before we started college, but before that, seeing them out was always a show with intense drama. You could always bet when they were around, there would be a steaming argument, loud and volatile.

  Jennifer was loud, crude, and crass, and Bernie was her equal in their notorious public fights: complete with slamming doors, screaming, threatening, crying, and cursing. I always thought he was better than Jennifer, who was from a less fortunate part of town, yet during the fights, they seemed equal in nastiness. He never acted that way when he was away from her that I saw, but then I wasn’t around him much.

  Bernie mostly behaved in a manner befitting a good-looking, popular kid. He wasn't a drinker or a bad sort, but five minutes with her, he became cheap acting.

  About Jennifer, there was plenty of juicy gossip that went around town. Gossip was that Jennifer’s mom was a loud, drunken floozy who frequented bars when her husband was out of town; she never left the bar alone and that Jennifer’s father was a skirt chaser, as slick as a used car salesman, and maybe as mean as an angry drunk.

  I never knew them and never even met them, but Jennifer looked hard, her eyes way too worldly, garments too cheaply made, voice too sharp, and body too ripe. She looked, as they say here, ‘Rode hard and put away wet’.

  Some wondered why Bernie dated her, but the boys knew. When someone scrawled : ‘Jennifer sucks’ on a bathroom wall at school, we knew what it meant; we had heard the stories, and if you looked into her eyes, you knew as well. She was loose. It made the rest of us guys feel partly in awe of him, partly uncomfortable. Back then, we were a bunch of virgins around a boy who was having sex. That was what we heard anyway.

  Later, I would find that Jennifer was just a poor girl from a less-than-stellar home who did her best. I would learn that she wasn’t used up but was going to college and working to pay her way, while avoiding loser parents who didn’t see any benefits of education. How two losers made a daughter who was better than both of them was a big question. I would also discover that Jennifer wasn’t a loose girl but that Bernie had shared many stories, most fabricated, in the boys’ restroom.

  The main issue was two-fold in that whomever Bernie went out with, Jennifer verbally harassed for some reason, and Bernie had been a man, a lot, in a big way, for months, and he must have enjoyed it. He was having sex.

  I was pretty innocent then, but I still figured that once he was a man in that way, he probably didn’t want to go back to hand holding. It wasn’t in the speech Dad had given me, except for the part about waiting until marriage and not dating loose girls. I did know that Jennifer’s rants had driven more than a few girls to tears in public. Why she chased after him still was a mystery to me then, but not later.

  Later, I would regret not saying all that to Grace, but it was embarrassing, or maybe I didn’t think this would go anywhere, and maybe I was hoping she would figure this out herself.

  Oh well, I have many regrets. The way she was closed off, I doubt she would have really accepted that this was a bad situation. And, for some reason, I thought her tone indicated she wasn’t going to date Bernie anymore.

  That was my mistake. I changed the subject.

  Chapter 7

  We had a pep rally soon after Grace met Bernie. Texarkana College was the pride and hub of the town’s life, the football games were huge news, the students were active, and the campus was daringly up-to-date. Every part of the campus had lush green grass and blooming foliage or pathways with benches or buildings or giant trees.

  We even had bussesthat brought students from towns in Arkansas so that the students could get an education and transfer up North, but with all the brain-drain studies, we still managed to have fun. The student assembly was outside the Student Union Building, where there was a strip of concrete for a make shift stage and sloping ground, soft with grass, for bleachers.

  Dr.Williams led the assembly, and it would have been easy to hate the man since every girl at the college had a crush on him, but he was a good guy, and we all liked him. He was the one to go to for advice or help. I think his history classes filled first with the wide-eyed girls who would sit, not taking notes, staring at him dreamily.

  We all enjoyed the way he made the material interesting, filled with his own views. He never cracked his book for lectures but related our current lives to times in the past so seamlessly that we didn’t just learn, but learned to think. Because he was the most popular teacher and the most active with all the student groups, he generally headed up student gatherings. Everyone cheered for him.

  After the band played, Dr. Williams announced the class president and vice-president: Will Lofton and Cornelia Cowan. Now, anyone would know within seconds why Cornelia was so popular; she was simply a beautiful girl, as in movie-glam looks d
espite a snarky personality.

  Will, on the other hand, was more interesting. He was almost non-descript, fairly good-looking with lean muscles and a strong, silent-type face; however, he was one of the funniest people I had ever known. His eyes were amber-brown, his jaw was square, features mild, and hair light brown. His best feature was his smile, a generous mouth over brilliant, perfect teeth. He seldom looked serious and was always self-depreciating for a joke. He could make anyone laugh.

  When we were about fourteen, I was spending the night at Will’s house, playing poker in his basement: paneled, secluded, and fun. Few people had them in East Texas.

  Will’s family had this huge yellow and white cat, Clancy, which pouted when we didn’t pay attention to him. That was the biggest, most spoiled cat I had ever seen, all fur and claws and huge green eyes. We had already petted him, played with him, and been clawed and nipped, and he had been well fed with bits of our snacks. At midnight, I was down a dollar when Will began sniffing the air like a coon dog. “Ya smell that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is it you?”

  “No, it isn’t me, Stupid.”

  “Then it must be Clancy.” Will motioned me to follow. Like the kids we were, we plowed into each other as we sneaked around, stifling snorts of laughter, sniffing the air dramatically. “Awe, shit….the shit’s gonna hit the fan,” he whispered, pointing to a little steaming pile Clancy had left.

  Clancy looked at us with guilt on his face, using his paws to rake air over the feces as if there were litter or soil available. Cats do that: they paw and pretend to cover their droppings instinctively. It’s funny as hell.

  We made every joke we could, tears streaming, until Will’s mother appeared, awakened by our howls of laughter, and frowning as she cleaned the floor by hand. We handed her paper towels.

  She kept saying we were “bad bad boys” which made us laugh harder. Will’s brother, Brad peeked in once and said we were all crazy. With reproachful eyes, his mother scooped Clancy into her arms, shooing us off to bed. That was funny.

  That was Will. He just never really grew out of that fun, boyish stage.

  Then, Dr. Williams announced the year’s cheerleaders, Lorene, Bobby, and Buddy, whom I knew well, and Charles, Lu, and Cornelia. The girls wore calf length white jumpers over blue blouses. The six took the stage and cheered.

  We applauded. Robots, we were. Will asked the football team to stand, so all around the area, we took to our feet for everyone to applaud while the cheerleaders yelled again. I couldn’t tell what they cheered, since one never hears anything in a crowd unless it’s the voice of your best gal.

  Next, the Starlettes, the college’s high-kicking team, took the stage to perform. They were mostly cute; a girl named Colli was the prettiest of that bunch. I went out with her sometimes. I elbowed Grace, “Why aren’t you a Starlette?”

  “Boring. Who wants all that practice?”

  “You have good legs.”

  “Yep...and hush, or I’ll kick you with one of my ‘good’ legs.”

  Giving details, Will spoke again, reminding everyone to begin thinking of homecoming, favorites, club events, and the upcoming talent show. There seemed to be some club, some event, or some gathering to include everyone at the college; they dug hard to make everyone feel included in some group so that later, we would be efficient people with great memories of college life. And yes, I am cynical.

  I watched Cornelia making eyes at Will, who ignored her. She was stunning. Her hair was dark, her large eyes violet, her figure tiny. I took her out once. I suppose she had been slumming to accept that date with me. Halfway into the date, she developed a headache seconds before I was going to announce my own. Simply, I bored her and wasn’t wealthy; she was an insufferable snob, a little princess with more good looks than personality.

  We started gathering into our cliques when I saw Jennifer. As usual, she looked worn out and cheap, dressed better than usual in last year’s fashion: red slacks, top, and scarf; her face brightened with a sexy, slow grin. Her eyes oozed desire even from several paces away, and she thrust her large breasts out, jutted her hips provocatively. She waved at me; I warily waved back.

  “Is that Jennifer?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, and avoid her. I do,” Bernie said as he materialized behind us.

  “I hardly know her,” I said.

  When I looked back, her face was dropped in disappointment, wondering what she had done wrong and how she had failed. Standing in a defeated pose, she looked young and lost. I wondered why, after all this time, she still acted that way for Bernie. I waved again. She waved back.

  Bernie wasn’t looking at her anymore just talking to friends.

  We stood beside the stately columns of the Student Union Building, surrounded by rosebud trees, roses, crape myrtles, and thorn bushes.

  Inside was a chapel for students to pray for good grades, a small bowling alley, a lounge, a dance floor, snack bar, television area, and a study area. The vending machines had Grapette sodas. Yum. We usually gravitated to the lounge, filled with sapphire blue sofas and chairs, pool tables, and a piano. The buses to take the out-of-town kids back home didn’t run until later in the afternoon after labs, so it was a busy place, generally packed with students.

  Sometimes, Dr. Williams joined us there and expounded on his political views. It was enlightening; we came away with a better understanding of our changing world.

  Bernie invited Grace to get a soft drink inside, but she shook her head, “Not right now. It’s pretty out here.” Her smile was beautiful.

  Bernie glared at the spot where Jennifer stood; she glared back.

  “She’s a hag.”

  “Who is?”

  “Jennifer.”

  “Is she?”

  “Why’re you waving at her, David? She’ll take it as encouragement.”

  “It was a wave. Damn.” I was getting mad.

  Maybe yes and maybe no. But he hadn’t thought she was a hag when he dated her. It’s funny how the other person is only disgusting when the person has finished with him or her.

  I neither liked nor disliked the girl; I wouldn’t date her, and I felt she was going to be some trouble if Grace went out with Bernie often, but then I thought that was mostly over before it began, but why not wave back? It didn’t exactly cost me anything.

  Mostly, it set me off that Bernie was questioning me.

  “Well, she’s crazy,” he said, but I watched his face.

  I looked at her face. In a few seconds of having seen him, Jennifer looked softer and more brazen at the same time. What was that look? I looked at his eyes as he watched her for several seconds and saw the strangest thing, communication of sort that few would notice.

  She looked resigned; no, she looked surrendered: To him. My skin crawled, and I wasn’t sure why. I had never seen such a thing; maybe that was it, but it was more; I felt like someone who had a cockroach run up his trousers. Something was going on, and it made me feel dirty.

  I didn’t like Bernie.

  But I was eighteen, and serious thoughts rarely lasted. Will joined us, making jokes, the crowd grew, and we ended up in the lounge in a while, playing pool and enjoying ourselves.

  Bernie went off with another group, mostly the cheerleaders and football players. Lorene Remonte kept bouncing around, still in cheerleader mode, and all the boys noticed her.

  Lu and Charles, both quieter, drifted away. Cornelia hung on Bobby, batting her eyes while Buddy shot pool with Bernie. This was my group of friends since high school; we were still tethered.

  I didn’t know where I fit.

  Chapter 8

  That week, our classes seemed busier than usual. Grace and I met every day at her house or mine for homework while we listened to the radio.

  Most days after classes, there were papers to write, football practices, clubs, activities, and studying, we were all falling asleep early. It was our first taste of what full time jobs and families would bring in later years. I d
on’t mean it was a bad time; it was a great time, but we were adjusting to changes. It was tiring.

  By now, I had taken Colli out a few times but had yet to kiss her; that’s just how innocent some of us were. She was a lot of fun to be out with, pretty, popular, and full of energy. She could be catty at times, but I liked that she was straight-forward. I knew she liked me a great deal; that isn’t my being stuck on myself but just a fact.

  Back then, unlike later years, couples dated for fun and socialization, but we were also, like our parents before us, looking to find our mates. We were supposed to date, find a loyal person we could see ourselves with forever, although we had no idea what forever meant, get jobs, get married, have families, and pass on the torch. I think a few dates in, and Colli saw potential in me and maybe a hint that she could stand me or train me well enough to be married to me.

  I was a pretty good catch.

  I saw all her great qualities, and no doubt, she would make a fine wife and mother one day. But I didn’t see her as my wife in the future. I was still a compass, swinging all directions, and Colli wasn’t ‘true north’ for me.

  Idyllic, of course, but that was who I was. I wanted something and had no idea of what it was. So, for now, she was a date: safe and not someone I had to think about often as I focused on my grades. I didn’t need a girlfriend at that point in my life. Does that make me a bad person? Sure, add it to my many sins.

  Buddy had a party that Friday night. When Colli and I got there, I was surprised to see Grace with Bernie since we spoke daily, and she hadn’t told me she was going out with him, again. Not that I was her keeper.

  They stood outside on the front walk. In a dove-gray, soft fabric that fell like a ballet dress, Grace outshone vivacious Colli, and I hated that I compared them. She avoiding meeting my eyes; I think she knew I didn’t care much for her dating Bernie, but I wasn’t saying why, and she wasn’t asking. I didn’t really have a reason, anyway. The girls went in first, chattering.