Rush

by Lisa Patton

  Haynes tells her hello, but offers no small talk. Instead he walks right over to the man who’s helping her. “Here, let me help you with that, man.” Haynes holds the right end of the oversize painting while the man slips the picture wire over the hook.

  “Thank you, sir,” the man says. “Now you and your family sit down and relax. I’ma do this.”

  “No relaxing for me today. I’m here to work,” Haynes says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m Haynes Woodcock.” He shakes the gentleman’s hand.

  “Maurice Robinson. All right.” Mr. Robinson’s dark, curly hair is streaked with gray. Deep lines wrinkle his forehead. His jowls droop, and at first glance he appears to be in his seventies, but when he smiles straight white teeth make him appear much younger. Haynes turns and introduces him to Ellie and me. I notice Lilith and Gage exchange a look.

  “I’m texting Annie Laurie,” Lilith announces. “She’s down the hall playing.”

  Within sixty seconds, Annie Laurie bursts through the door. “Hey!” She rushes over to hug Ellie.

  I can tell it’s a bit awkward for our daughter. Most of the time she’s an extrovert, but there are times when shyness takes over. This is one of those times.

  Ellie hugs her back, tells her hello, but simply gives her a coy smile. She looks around, taking it all in. Annie Laurie’s bed has already been lofted and made. It looks like one on display in a specialty linen store.

  “Ellie, I’m gonna tell you what I told Annie Laurie,” Rhonda says. “Y’all wait to unpack till I’m done. Just go around the floor visiting for now; meet new friends. And when you come back you’ll be walking inside Ole Miss Dorm Room of the Year. Y’all scoot.” She makes a brushing motion with her hands and the girls leave.

  Their room is at the end of the hall. A corner room meant for three—another of Lilith’s suggestions—but the University turned it into a double, charging the occupants a premium.

  Gage, now back on the couch, offers us the other half of his breakfast sandwich, but we politely decline. His feet are propped up on an upholstered ottoman. It’s then that I notice his loafers: Ferragamo with no socks. Together with his pink Bermuda shorts, linen shirt, and Smathers & Branson Ole Miss needlepoint belt, he’s utterly Palm Beach. Haynes has on a well-worn pair of khaki shorts, one of his Ole Miss golf shirts, and his old tennis shoes. It’s moving day.

  Rhonda gets back to work and Haynes jumps in to assist Mr. Robinson with lofting Ellie’s bed.

  Lilith was Lily in college, and ever since we’ve been reacquainted I’ve had to stop myself from calling her by that name. I know there are women who go back to their given names after a while, but it’s terribly confusing if you ask me. She takes me by the hand and points out the detailing on the furnishings. “Would you look at these headboards,” she says, running her hand lightly over the gray linen fabric with pink piping. They were custom cut, rounded at the edges, and have been turned to face each other, as if they are daybeds. “The girls can use them as queens when they move into their apartment next year.”

  This makes me feel a tiny bit better, I suppose.

  Two large Euro shams are made of matching pink linen, ruched on the edges, with Annie Laurie’s monogram swirled in a white linen fabric. Coordinating throw pillows, pink and white, are piled on top of the bed and a white leather step stool sits underneath a cascading throw. A large round bolster made of silk appliqués takes up half the bed, and two iron sconces flank the headboard on the wall. Lilith points to a white quilted coverlet and what appears to be a white chinchilla throw. “Doesn’t this fabulous fake look real?”

  “Sure does,” I say, meaning it.

  Lilith bends down to show me the bed skirt. It’s gray linen, matching the headboard, with a wide ribbon of pink an inch from the bottom. And it’s on a sliding rod so the girls can pull it back to access whatever they plan to store underneath. A mirrored chest serves as a bedside table between the two beds and two lamps made of ceramic pitchers swirled with colorful designs are on either side. Their shades are trimmed with silk, matching the color in the pitchers.

  I reach out and touch one of the lamps, feeling the coolness of the pottery against my fingertips. “These are beautiful.”

  “They’re maiolica,” Lilith says. “Aren’t they fabulous?”

  “Real majolica?”

  “You’re thinking of Victorian majolica pottery you see in every antique store. This is Italian maiolica. With an I instead of a J. Very different.”

  “I didn’t know there was a difference,” I say sheepishly, as my heart lurches in shame.

  “Oh yeah,” Rhonda says without turning around. “Big difference.”

  The little couch has more coordinating velvet pillows and another fur throw. There’s a tall floor lamp next to the door. A round upholstered ottoman with a large tray on top serves as a coffee table. There are not one, but two, windows in the room and the window coverings are nicer than anything we have in our entire house. Two woven bamboo shades are underneath gorgeous linen draperies that puddle on the floor.

  Across from the couch are two study desks, which have been converted into vanities. The desk chairs have monogrammed covers. Custom-cut mirrors top the surfaces and white linen covers have been made to hide the content stored underneath. Each vanity is topped with two lamps that flank matching jewelry boxes and lighted makeup mirrors. Framed mirrors are above each vanity and a flat-screen TV hangs over the door, attached to a swivel for easy viewing.

  The room actually has three closets, all of them in a row. Instead of closet doors, curtains that match the ones on the windows hang over the openings. They are topped by pink linen valances trimmed in velvet to match the velvet throw pillows on the sofa and the pink linen band around the dust ruffle. I can’t help noticing the third closet is already three quarters of the way full of Annie Laurie’s dresses.

  Finally, there is a luscious gray-and-white wool rug patterned in an Alhambra motif and another small animal skin rug under the coffee table. Please tell me that’s fake, I keep thinking, because at this point nothing would surprise me. Towel racks are hung behind the dorm-room door and fluffy towels bearing each of the girls’ monograms, are already in place. The only thing left to do is make up Ellie’s bed.

  Until I saw it in person, it was hard to imagine just how glorious it would be. Truth is, Ellie’s dorm room is nicer than any room in our entire house, including our formal living room. Mama’s house isn’t even this nice. Well, yes it is. It’s just old.

  I am scared to death to comment. If I gloat Haynes is sure to pick up on how much it all cost and well, frankly, he doesn’t know yet. So I smile. And try to act as if it’s just another day in the life of Haynes and Wilda Woodcock.

  “Y’all must have been here for hours,” Haynes says, crawling out from underneath Ellie’s bed, “This room seems about perfect to me.”

  “We started yesterday,” Rhonda replies, from a stepstool. She’s adjusting the valance over Ellie’s closet. “The rest of my team’s already moved on to another room.”

  Haynes glances at me, then at Maurice. “I’ll get you paid for your work, Mr. Robinson. Please leave me your address and I’ll send you a check.”

  “Oh no, that’s part of it,” Rhonda says, before Mr. Robinson can speak, adding, “I run a turnkey business.”

  I freeze. Here it is. My undoing. She’s bound to say something about the cost. But she never says another word. Just goes back to primping and fluffing the closet curtain. More importantly, Haynes doesn’t ask.

  Rhonda won’t let us lift a finger. I guess not, for all the money we’ve spent. So Lilith and I just chitchat. Despite her extravagant taste, I have to admit I’m excited about reacquainting. We never really hit it off in college, but now that our daughters are roommates I’m hopeful our friendship will grow and we’ll make up for lost time. She was our sorority president, for goodness sakes.

  A knock on the door interrupts our conversation. The door is half open and a man pokes his head i
nside. “Is this room 918?”

  Simultaneously we all answer. “Yes.”

  “I have a safe for an Annie Laurie Whitmore?”

  Haynes’s head turns slowly toward the door. His eyebrows are knitted tightly together and his lips are flat-lined. “Did you say, ‘a safe’?”

  The deliveryman nods.

  “For what?” Haynes asks in a dubious tone.

  The guy shrugs and Gage, ignoring Haynes’s question, puts down his coffee and swallows in a hurry. “You’re in the right place.” He turns to Lilith. “Where does the safe go, darling?”

  Lilith turns to Rhonda with a raised palm.

  Rhonda jumps—literally jumps—over Gage’s foot and stands in a small spot next to the sofa. “It’s twenty-one by nineteen by thirty-seven, right?”

  The fellow shrugs. “I couldn’t tell ya.”

  “Hang on.” Rhonda whips out a measuring tape clipped to her belt. Then measures and gives him a thumbs-up. “Put it right here, please.”

  The deliveryman maneuvers his dolly around the boxes and places the safe down with a loud thud. The floor jolts. I glance up at Haynes, whose face is void of any expression whatsoever, which, under different circumstances, would have cracked me up. Gage gives the guy a check and slips the receipt into his pocket. We all watch as he closes the door behind him.

  Rhonda moves over to the closet, squats down, and pulls something out of her bag. “Looky here!” Now she’s waving that something high in the air. On my word of honor, Rhonda Taylor has made Annie Laurie Whitmore a custom safe cover.

  “We can hide it with this,” she says while wrapping and Velcroing it around the safe. “And,” she’s back to the closet, “I had a piece of granite cut. That way…” We all watch her place the square on top of the safe. “It can easily double as an entertaining station.” Patting the top, she asks, “Who brought the Keurig?”

  “We did,” I say, happy to make a contribution and cut through the tension. I don’t need to look at Haynes to know there’s steam shooting out of his ears.

  “Get ya a sugar jar, a cream pitcher, and a little bowl for your stevia. Then run out to Williams Sonoma and buy an ice bucket, a pair of tongs, maybe even a wine opener.” She winks. “You’ll be all set.”

  “The safe is our treat,” Lilith says. “Ellie is more than welcome to use it anytime she wants. Annie Laurie will give her the code.”

  “I told Annie Laurie she ought to put her Jimmy Choos in it,” Gage says, with a shrug. “God knows between her and her mother I should have bought stock in that company a long time ago.”

  Haynes Woodcock is irate. I know him so well. He’s biting his bottom lip, the way he does when he’s trying to hold his tongue. The very idea that Annie Laurie has brought enough valuables to require a safe, to college, is making him crazy. I just know it. He steps out of the room in silence without telling any of us where he’s going.

  *

  When the install is finally over, around two o’clock, and the girls—and Haynes—have returned to see Ole Miss Dorm Room of the Year, it truly looks like it belongs on the pages of Town & Country or House Beautiful. Ellie’s eyes look like shiny new half-dollars and her smile belongs to a camera. I can’t say Annie Laurie’s expression matches Ellie’s, but I can tell she’s happy. The two of them hug excitedly when they see it, then crawl up on their beds, using their footstools.

  “Hang on, y’all. Let me get my camera.” Rhonda reaches into her back pocket for her phone and snaps a picture of the girls. “I’m gonna tweet, Instagram, and Facebook this out riiight now.” Her thumbs are typing frantically. “So cute, y’all.”

  It takes her another couple of minutes to finish her tweeting and such and I’m reminded of how utterly deficient I am in that area. Rhonda then slips her phone inside her back pocket while strolling over to the closet. We all watch as she digs inside a large bag and pulls out a clipboard with paper attached. I see her scanning the room, making check marks. “By the way, the shades are blackout. Just like you wanted, Annie Laurie. You can sleep all day if you want to.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Annie Laurie responds, climbing down from her bed.

  “Ellie Woodcock,” Haynes says. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”

  “I won’t, Dad.” This time Ellie doesn’t sneer, she gleams. And looks around her new room with a mixture of shock and wonder.

  “I’d put my sunglasses in that safe if I were you.” Rhonda touches the logo on Annie Laurie’s Coco Chanels, which are holding back her hair on top of her head. “Those babies are not cheap. Okay, y’all. I think that’s it. Except for”—she returns to her treasure chest, also known as Ellie’s closet, and pulls out a basket—“your dorm-warming gift!”

  It’s large, wrapped in red cellophane, with several gems inside. “I won’t tell you everything that’s in it, but I will say … y’all know there are no candles allowed in the dorm rooms, right?” She looks at the girls and they both nod. “There’s a diffuser in here with the most luscious scent you’ll ever smell.” Bending down, she places the basket on the ottoman in front of the sofa. “And all kinds of other little happies. Y’all enjoy.” She takes a step toward the door then turns around. “And if you get tired of all this by next year, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks for your help today, Miss Rhonda. Mighty nice of you.” Haynes walks over and shakes her hand.

  “No worries. It’s all part of it.” My heart stops. Please don’t mention the cost, Rhonda. Please. “Come on, Maurice. Let’s let these girls unpack.”

  Everyone thanks them and they slip out the door. She comes right back, though, before we can take another breath. “Just checking something.” She scoots over to the refrigerator, opens it. “Yep. Fuji’s in the fridge. See y’all.” And she’s gone.

  For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the soft hum of the small refrigerator.

  Lilith breaks the silence, saying, “Isn’t this dreamy? Can you imagine if we had had this when we were in school?” She puts her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “I keep telling Annie Laurie how lucky she is.” Annie Laurie tilts her head toward her mother and shrugs with a confident smile.

  Gage says, “I think I’m jealous. I wish I’d had something this nice when I was living in the frat house.”

  I look over at Haynes. The crease between his eyebrows could hold a tube of lipstick, it’s so deep. “If a guy had had a room like this in my frat house he’d have had his ass kicked.”

  NINE

  WILDA

  When it’s time to leave, I feel a familiar lump in my throat. It had been there with Cooper and Jackson when we left them at their Ole Miss dorms, and it’s bigger the third and final go-round. I excuse myself, step out into the hall so Ellie won’t see me, and fan my eyes frantically. No tears, Wilda. Stay calm. You can do this.

  I try psyching myself up by thinking about the times she had been really mean and hurt my feelings. But it doesn’t work. I try telling myself that this is a rite of passage and the best thing that could ever happen to her. No good either. So I take a long, ultra-deep breath, count to ten, and move back into their room, biting the insides of my cheeks.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I tug on Haynes’s arm.

  He and Ellie both turn around, surprised by my eagerness.

  “Ellie’s ready for this. And so are we. I love you, baby. Call us anytime.” I kiss her on the cheek, trying to downplay my emotions.

  A surprising tenderness creeps into her voice. “I’m not that far away, Mom. I’m sure I’ll be home soon. Probably Labor Day.”

  Not wanting to embarrass her again, I suck in my right cheek, biting down full force.

  “Of course, I’ll have to find a riiiide.” She draws out the word and leans in toward Haynes.

  “My poor little underprivileged child.” He scoops her into the crook of his arm, nestles her to his side. “No car her freshman year. No searching all night for a parking spot in a silver satellite lot miles away. No thousand-dollar parking f
ines. You’ll thank me later when you haven’t gained the freshmen fifteen because you’ve had to use those good legs of yours.”

  “You are embarrassing me,” I hear Ellie whisper through gritted teeth. Still holding her in the crook of his arm, Haynes swings his other behind her knees and scoops her up like he used to when she was little. She puts her arms around his neck, says, “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, Punkin.” Haynes kisses her forehead. Then puts her down, pats her on the back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Not one to ever let him get away with a wily remark, Ellie makes a mischievous face. “Gee, thanks, Dad. Now I can be really wild.”

  Haynes narrows his eyes, points a threatening finger her way.

  Then, to my surprise, she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. “I love you, too, Mommy.” Ellie only calls me Mommy when she needs me, like when she was little. But this is sincere. She’s vulnerable, and loving, and doesn’t care who sees her. All of a sudden, she’s seven again and can’t get enough of me. With my arms tightly wrapped around her shoulders, a tear that I had been desperately trying to hold back slides down my cheek and melts into the sleeve of her T-shirt.

  “I love you, Heart. I love you so much,” I whisper directly into her ear. “And I’m ultra proud of you. You are an incredible human being.”

  “Thanks, Mommy,” she whispers back. “You’re pretty incredible yourself.”

  None of us are paying attention to what the Whitmores are doing. Nor do we care. We’re having an impenetrable family moment. Finally Haynes touches me on the shoulder and says, “Let’s go, honey. The girls have a lot of unpacking to do.”

  Ellie and I peel away from each other, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

  From somewhere else in the room I hear Gage say, “We won’t be far behind you.”

  Lilith taps me on the arm. “Before you go, I have something to talk to you about.” She turns. “Hang on, Haynes. This won’t take but a minute.” She motions me out the door, and I follow her down the hall, away from the hustle. I suspect this must have something to do with the safe, or Rhonda Taylor, or perhaps she wants to get together for lunch.