“Neither am I.” She laughed. “But in that case, talk to Gabby.”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me, not another true love this week. Do I need to worry, or will it be over by next Tuesday?”
“Long before that. Thank God no one’s taken that child seriously yet. She’s going to kill me.”
“Is she?” He returned to Marjorie’s side in the pajamas he had made twice a year in London and took the hairbrush from her hand and put it on her dressing table. “I love you, do you know that?” She nodded, and without a word, put her arms around him and kissed him. And then, quietly, she turned off the lights and went to bed, and he lay there with his arms around her. They were happy people with a life that meant a lot to them, and a family they had always cherished.
And it showed the next day, as they sat down together for Thanksgiving. Paxton wore her black velvet dress, and Gabby wore a white Chanel suit her mother had bought her the year before in Paris. It made her look very grown up suddenly and it reminded Paxton of when Jackie Kennedy was setting the fashions. And as Ed Wilson said grace, he looked serious and distinguished. And Paxton caught a glimpse of a private smile that had more than a little spice to it, between him and Gabby’s mother.
They had an enormous meal that left them all stupefied with satisfaction, and even Paxton had to admit that it almost rivaled Queenie’s. She told them about their Thanksgiving meals, and spoke with obvious love for the woman who had raised her. And in the afternoon, friends came by, and Paxton was impressed to realize that one of them was the governor of California. They were all talking about the demonstration that was taking place at Berkeley that afternoon, led by Mario Savio and the other members of the Free Speech Movement. Apparently Joan Baez was singing there, and a thousand students had staged a sit-in, protesting the university’s positions against free speech, no longer wanting them or the other causes to use university property to raise money or pass out leaflets for their causes. The university said that traffic was being blocked and leaflets were littering the campus. Finally the university had compromised, saying they could use the same space they had previously used, but they could not advocate action. To Paxton, it all seemed like a tempest in a teacup, but tempers had flared, liberties had been questioned, and the time was right for a contest of wills and a major explosion. And by that night, almost eight hundred students had been arrested. And Paxton found it fascinating to be in the Wilson home, where everyone was so aware of what was going on in the world, and in close touch with people of action and power.
They all watched the continuing demonstrations on the news the next day, and as a result, she and Peter never went to Stinson. On Saturday, she went to the football game with Peter and his father, while Gabby went shopping with her mother. Paxton had called her own mother on Thanksgiving Day, and spoke to her and George, and Queenie. They seemed to be alright and she had assured them that she was having a good Thanksgiving, although only Queenie seemed worried about it. And she had whispered into the phone that she hadn’t made her best mince pie that year, since Paxton wasn’t there to enjoy it.
Paxton had a good time at the game, and by the end of the weekend, she felt close to all of them. She felt like a member of the family, as she said good-bye to them, and thanked them for a wonderful Thanksgiving. It had been the best one she’d had in years, the best one since her father died, and her eyes shone happily as she thanked Peter and Gabby on the way back to Berkeley.
There was still evidence of unrest when they got back to school. There were riot police everywhere, in case further demonstrations broke out, and Paxton was shocked to learn that night that Yvonne and Deke had been part of the demonstration and had been arrested. They had already been released by then, but Yvonne had terrible bruises on her arms, inflicted by the riot squad when they dragged her to the paddy wagon.
“It was pretty grim,” she admitted with a somber look. “And where were you all weekend?” she asked Paxton and Gabby accusingly as Peter brought their bags up from the car.
“In San Francisco,” Gabby answered snappily, not inclined to say more. She had no intention of feeling guilty for not getting arrested. “You don’t have to go to jail to prove you give a damn, Yvonne. It’s not going to prove shit if I get bruises on my arms, and to tell you the truth, I don’t give a damn where they hand out those goddamn leaflets.” It was the first time she’d lit into Yvonne, but she was tired of her snide remarks and her veiled accusations.
“What do you give a damn about?” Yvonne shot back at her as Peter and Paxton listened.
“Maybe the same things you do. I care about the blacks, I care about Viet Nam, I care about people getting a fair deal, and staying alive to enjoy it, but I’m not going to have my ass dragged down the street and thrown into a paddy wagon to prove it.”
“Then nobody’s ever going to listen to you. You can’t sit around in your living room, filing your nails and thinking someone will hear you, they won’t. Nobody heard in the South till people started getting shot and killed and arrested.”
“So how come you’re here and not there?” Gabby shot back quickly at her.
“Because I’m sick of it. Because I’m sick of the back of the bus, baby. I’ve had it all my life. And I’m going to stay here until I can go back and kick ass at the front of the bus where someone is going to pay attention.”
“Great. But don’t pick on me while you’re here, because I’m just out here minding my own business.”
“I’m moving next month anyway,” Yvonne blurted out, annoyed, not quite sure whether or not she had been bested by Gabby. Maybe she should have been in the South. Maybe she should have been in Birmingham, fighting Wallace’s cronies and not sitting in Berkeley. But she had had it with all that, which was why she’d been so glad to get the scholarship to Berkeley.
“You moving in with Deke?” Gabby asked, only mildly curious. She was tired of Yvonne and the enormous chip on her shoulder. It was so large, it obscured her view most of the time, but Paxton, knowing the South as she did, wasn’t sure she always blamed her.
But Yvonne was shaking her head in answer to Gabby’s question. “No … I’m …” She looked embarrassed suddenly, as though she realized she’d gone too far, as though she knew she’d taken her anger out on them and they didn’t deserve it. “I’m not moving in with Deke. I’m moving off campus with friends.” Paxton knew she would live, by choice, with people like herself who were still too angry to enjoy the integration they had finally won and didn’t yet know what to do with.
“That’s cool,” Paxxie said quietly. “I hope you’ll be happy there.”
“What about your room?” Gabby said matter-of-factly, unmoved by Yvonne’s announcement.
“I figure you can find someone to take my place.” And then, as she spoke, Dawn wandered into the room in her nightgown.
“I’m moving too,” she said hesitantly, “… that is … I mean … I’m leaving.” She looked apologetic, but pleased, as she smiled at all of them. “I’m going home.”
“You’re dropping out?” Gabby looked stunned, she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to leave, she was having so much fun there. But admittedly, Dawn had done nothing but sleep in the three months she’d been there.
“I’m getting married … I think … at Christmas … I’m …” She blushed, and looked at them, her only friends in Berkeley. She had hardly been to a single class since she’d been there. “I’m having a baby in April.”
The three girls looked at her in amazement, although Paxton realized afterward how stupid they all were. She had every symptom in the books, but they’d only been kidding when they’d said she might be pregnant.
“Dave and I are going to Nepal as soon as the baby’s born, to see our guru.”
“That’s great,” Gabby said, still looking amazed, and Peter turned away so the girls wouldn’t see him smile. “That’s really great, Dawn.” And after the other two went back to their rooms, Gabby turned to Paxton with an irritated look. “Shit, no
w what are we going to do about their room? If the university assigns it, God knows who we’ll get, and I don’t know anyone who wants to switch midyear, do you?”
“Why don’t we trade?” Paxton said pensively. “I know two sets of girls who have doubles and are dying for a quad. We could give this to them, and take one of their deuces.”
“Or you could just turn their room into a closet. Or move in with me,” Peter said hopefully, looking at Paxton. They had been remarkably good that weekend at his parents. Although he had been tempted to come to her room and try to seduce her, he had forced himself not to. He knew how upset she would have been to do something like that in his parents’ home, and he also knew from Gabby that Paxton was still a virgin. He had been thinking about it for a while, and wondering if she would be willing to go away with him somewhere, but so far the right time hadn’t come to ask her, and he was willing to bide his time till she was ready. Paxton was someone he wanted with him forever. “Actually, you know, that’s not such a bad idea,” he said to both of them before he left, “maybe next year we could rent a place together, off campus.” The idea appealed to all of them, but next year seemed like a long way off, and Paxton wondered if he would still like her by then. A lot of things could change in a year. It was amazing to think of what already had. In three months, she and Gabby had become good friends, she and Peter had fallen in love, they had lost two roommates, and one of them was having a baby. It was amazing to contemplate when they went to sleep that night. And the next weeks seemed to fly by before they left for Christmas vacation. After Christmas, Peter was going skiing with friends, and Gabby was going to Puerto Vallarta, in Mexico, with her parents. Peter had asked Paxton if she wanted to come skiing with him, but she had told him that it would be awkward leaving her family early to come back to California, and he understood that.
He drove her to the airport on the twenty-first instead and as they stood at the gate, making comfortable chitchat about Christmas, he suddenly looked down at her and her heart stopped when he spoke to her, suddenly looking almost as grown up as his father.
“This isn’t going to work, you know.” It was almost Christmas, and he was telling her the romance was over.
“What … I … I … I’m sorry …” She couldn’t look up at him, it hurt too much, and she resisted as she felt his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him, her eyes blinded by the tears he had just caused her.
“You don’t know what I mean, Pax, do you?” His eyes were damp too, and she shook her head miserably as she watched him. “I can’t go on playing like this, pretending we’re just good friends and this is just a freshman flirtation. I’m in love with you, Pax. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I want to marry you one day. All you have to do is say when. Tomorrow, next week, ten years. You want to go to the Peace Corps, to Africa, to the moon, that’s fine. I’ll wait. I love you.” His voice trembled, and his lips, too, and he pulled her into his arms so hard, it took her breath away, and this time when she kissed him, he had her whole heart. She couldn’t play with him anymore either. She knew just how much she loved him.
“Peter, what are we going to do?” She was smiling through her tears this time, and he was too. Just holding her, feeling her, kissing her, he knew she loved him. “I have three and a half more years of school. I have to finish,” she added.
“So we’ll wait. No big deal. Maybe we’ll get engaged sometime. All I want to know is if you love me.” His eyes bore into hers and she nodded seriously.
“I love you … I love you so much.…” she whispered, and this time he took her in his arms and kissed her more gently.
“I hate not to be with you on Christmas,” he whispered into her hair, “do you want me to fly down to Savannah after Christmas?” She did, but she didn’t dare. If her mother knew that at eighteen she was serious about someone, particularly a boy from California, she’d be frantic.
“No, it’s too soon. They won’t understand.”
“Then come back soon.”
They were calling her plane for the last time and everyone had already boarded. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you from home.” … home … where was home now? “I love you.” But what if he forgot her over the holidays? What if he found someone else? If he met someone when he was skiing? All her thoughts were on her face as she pulled away from him and he laughed at her.
“Stop that, you dummy. I love you. And you’d better remember that. One day, your name is going to be Paxton Wilson.” He gave her a last quick kiss, and she ran to catch her plane, waving to him, and calling over her shoulder that she loved him.
CHAPTER 5
It was strange arriving in Savannah that night. It was cold and dark, and very late. The plane had been delayed on the way and with the time difference, it was almost midnight when she got home, and everyone was sleeping. Her brother had come to pick her up, but her mother had gone to bed with a bad head cold. Only Queenie was sitting up waiting for her, with hot chocolate and Paxton’s favorite oatmeal cookies fresh from the oven. The two embraced without a word, and just holding her old friend, Paxton wanted to share her happiness with her. She had thought of Peter constantly on the plane, and now she could hardly wait to tell her. But George seemed not to want to go. He seemed to feel dutybound to wait until she finished her hot chocolate. He told her the news of people around town, and told her that her mother had been given an award by the Daughters of the Civil War, and Paxton tried to sound excited for her. But all she could do was look at Queenie and smile, telling her with her eyes how much she loved her.
And at last, she went upstairs to bed, and George went home, and she lay in bed thinking of Peter, and trying to feel at home there. But nothing felt the same, nothing felt inviting and warm, and all she could do as she lay there was think of Peter and California. It took her hours to fall asleep, and when she did at last, she felt lonely without listening to Gabby.
And in the morning, things were worse. She felt like a stranger when she had breakfast with her mother. She congratulated her mother on her award, and after a cool nod of thanks, her mother fell into an awkward silence. They seemed to have nothing to say at all, and Paxton kept struggling to find things to tell her about her classes. She never asked about Paxton’s roommates at all, and there was no way in the world she would have mentioned Peter to her. She did mention that George had a “new friend,” and told her that she would meet her that night at dinner, although George himself had said absolutely nothing about her when he picked Paxton up at the airport. And Paxton was reminded again how different her own family was from the Wilsons. And she couldn’t help wondering how different they might have been if her father were still alive, to warm their hearts and make them all a little more human.
It was late afternoon before she managed to find Queenie alone in the comfortable kitchen, and she told her all about Gabby and Peter and the Wilsons.
“You ain’t done nothin’ you’ll be sorry for, have you, girl?” she asked her sternly, and Paxton shook her head, but the thought had crossed her mind, and now that they had admitted how serious they both were, it was reasonable to believe that, sooner or later, something “serious” could happen. But she answered Queenie truthfully, and knew that there were some thoughts you didn’t share, even with Queenie.
“No, Queenie, I haven’t. But he’s wonderful. You’d love him.” She told her all about him again, and the old woman watched her with a tender heart, her eyes alight as she talked about the boy she’d fallen in love with in California.
“You like it there? Are ya happy?”
“I really am. It’s wonderful. It’s so exciting.” She told her about the classes she was taking, the people she had met, the places she had seen, and Queenie could see it all from her descriptions. And then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she asked her about George’s new girlfriend.
“You’ll see.” The old woman laughed. “I think this one may be for real though.” But somehow, Paxton sensed that Queenie didn’t like her.<
br />
“What makes you think so?” Paxton looked intrigued, but Queenie only laughed, and two hours later, Paxton could see for herself why Queenie didn’t think much of her. George’s new friend, Allison, looked like their mother’s double. She wore her hair the same way, had the same cool airs, the same prim, southern-lady manners, only she was much, much more restrained. And everything about her was so taut, she seemed in danger of breaking. But George looked totally at ease with her. He was used to that kind of woman, although in his youth, even George had liked them a little looser. Paxton watched her all that evening, her mouth so prim and tight, she could barely speak, and yet she didn’t seem shy about expressing her opinions. And finally after dinner, Paxton exploded into the kitchen, and when they were alone, she let her hair down with Queenie. “My God, she’s so rigid and so opinionated, how on earth does he stand her?” But she was exactly what he wanted. In his view, she was the perfect southern woman. He had been well trained by their mother. “What does Mama think of her?” She was curious about that, but Queenie only shrugged.
“I don’t know. She don’t tell me nothing.”
“It must be like looking in the mirror, or maybe she doesn’t see it.”
The rest of the evening was incredibly boring for her, as was the rest of the trip. They went to church on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas morning. She saw a few of her friends and was shocked to discover that two of her friends who had chosen not to go to college that year were getting married, and another one who’d gotten married after graduation in June was already pregnant. Here she felt years too young even to consider responsibilities like that, and they were already fully embarked on adult lives with husbands and children. It made her think of Peter again, everything did now, and he called her every few days, but most of the time she answered the phone herself so no one was aware of how often he called her. Her mother only mentioned him once, and said she thought it odd that a boy from California would call Paxton all the way to Savannah and she hoped it didn’t mean anything unpleasant. “Anything unpleasant” being an involvement with a boy who wasn’t from Savannah, Georgia.
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