Alma Mater

by Rita Mae Brown

  Frank chattered at breakfast, a brief burst of happiness before retiring to his home office. Mignon scrutinized her sister as though seeing her for the first time, but she yakked like her old self.

  Lisa Baptista tore down the drive at eight o'clock, honking all the way.

  "Wow!" Mignon, who had been helping her mother spread fertilizer, let go of the handle and didn't notice as the spreader rolled down the undulating lawn.

  Vic ran after it, catching it while her mother shouted how expensive fertilizer was.

  Chris and Jinx were plucking apples off the two trees since that was the task R. J. had assigned them.

  "Mignon!" R. J. yelled.

  Mignon, squealing with excitement as she stood with Lisa admiring her "new" ancient Volvo, called, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll be there in a minute." She clapped her hands at Lisa, unable to contain her enthusiasm. "This is so cool. Ultimate cool. Beyond cool. Frigid. December!"

  "Well, the test was easy except for parallel parking. I had to do it twice—I was so nervous—but Mr. Trasker was real nice. Glad I got him for my test and not Miss Pyle. She'd have flunked me. She flunks everyone. I mean, like, she can't stand the thought of anyone getting their license on their birthday."

  Jinx climbed down the ladder, walking over to her younger sister. "Wheels."

  "Daddy bought them for me. Can you stand it!" Lisa jumped up and down as though on a pogo stick.

  "Pretty cool." Jinx smiled. "You are so spoiled rotten, Lisa. I didn't get a car on my sixteenth birthday."

  Vic joined them, Chris coming up behind her. "Jinx, your dad's making more money now."

  "I have to pay for my insurance and the gas. Daddy says I have to learn the value of money." She pointed to her gold earrings. "He says I won't have any left for stuff like this, but I don't care. Wheels!"

  "I'll bet Mom is thrilled," Jinx commented dryly.

  "Yeah, she doesn't have to drive me anymore. She really is thrilled. But you'd better come home. Even for ten minutes. Just come say hi and don't have a fight. Then she'll be happy. And, well, I can't help it if Daddy didn't buy you a car. But come home. Really. It will shut Mom up."

  "Mother will never be happy with me." A note of sourness crept into Jinx's voice.

  "Just agree with her." Lisa, exasperated and with a tendency to dramatize, threw up her hands. "Morn is great if you agree with her. Doesn't matter if you really believe it or not. Lie."

  "You'll make a wonderful politician," R. J. said as she joined them. "Happy birthday."

  "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Savedge. May I take Mignon for a ride?"

  "Of course." R. J. smiled. "Mignon, you will finish your job when you return. Right?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  The two girls hopped in the sturdy faded-blue vehicle and backed around. As Lisa nosed down the driveway, a car careened in front of her. She drove off the crushed oyster shells and onto the grass.

  Mignon, nonplussed, said, "Georgia might be right behind her, so be ready to get off the road again. If I were you, I'd get the hell out of here."

  Lisa stepped on it once back on the driveway, sending shell bits scattering behind her.

  Sissy slammed the door of her Plymouth, leaving the motor running. "Where's Frank?" she yelled to R. J., who was walking back down the lawn.

  "In the house."

  Vic trotted over and turned off Sissy's motor just as Georgia appeared in the driveway. Georgia had the presence of mind to turn off her motor.

  Piper barked nonstop.

  "Where is the slut?" Georgia's eyes bulged.

  Chris, without thinking, shrank behind Vic.

  "I beg your pardon?" Vic played for time.

  "Sissy, my slut sister, and don't look surprised when I say that. Oh, hello, Chris, hello, Jinx." She waved at R. J., who rubbed her temples for a moment and then strode back up the lawn.

  "Well, Miss Wallace, I'm sure you have your reasons." Vic kept an even tone.

  "Reasons. Here's a reason." She held out her two hands indicating the length of a penis, in this case about seven inches. "I caught her. Oh, yes, I did—and I will kill her. I don't care if I spend the rest of my life in jail. It will be worth it!"

  "Georgia, we couldn't have that." R. J.'s voice soothed, silky smooth. "Now, could we, girls? We just couldn't get by without seeing you out and about. Sissy's not worth killing."

  This pleased Georgia, somewhat diverting her righteous anger. "That's nice of you to say." She lowered her tone. "I know, I have always known" —she dropped half an octave on "known"— "that Sissy has her weaknesses. No self-control. The smoking. The eating. The drinking. Adding fornicating to that list is not exactly a major surprise. Not that I spoke of it." She held up her hand as if asking for silence. "A woman is entitled to a little pleasure, but this really is, well, this is too much."

  "Could I fetch you a drink?" Vic asked pleasantly.

  "Oh, honey, the sun's not over the yardarm." Georgia shook her head. "But I could recover myself with some fortified orange juice. Yes, that would be most refreshing."

  Vic understood that the word "fortify" meant load the goddamned orange juice with vodka. Since Georgia didn't wish to be seen guzzling a vodka martini at quarter past eight in the morning, she'd make do with laced orange juice.

  Vic hurried into the kitchen, grabbed the 0J, and told Chris to get the vodka from the bar. Then she filled the glass half with vodka, half with orange juice.

  "You'll flatten her," Chris observed.

  "Are you kidding? Mother's milk to Georgia. This will kick-start her day." She kissed Chris on the lips, lightly, and then sailed out the back door, glass in hand, napkin underneath.

  "Oh, thank you, dear." Georgia knocked the contents back in three huge gulps.

  "Another?" Vic smiled.

  "Wouldn't hurt me to get my vitamin C, now, would it?"

  Vic returned shortly with another, although Georgia sipped this one, as R. J. maneuvered her into a seat, hoping that Frank had shut the door to his small office just off the house in what used to be the old summer kitchen. If they could humor Georgia, maybe they could avoid another catastrophe. Something usually got broken, and R. J. preferred it not be anything in her house.

  The three young women stood in a semicircle around R. J. and Georgia, who were seated on the lawn furniture.

  "Would you like toast?"

  "I'd like to turn that immature vulgarian into toast. I'd like to toss her in a crocker sack in the James. Oh, R. J., you don't know what I put up with and all these years keeping her—depredations from Daddy. It would kill him—indeed, it would."

  Jinx winked to Vic. Vic reached over, running her forefinger over the back of Chris's hand.

  "I know how you protect Sissy. We all do." R. J. wondered how long this was going to take.

  Georgia rolled her eyes. "Started when she was in tenth grade. Kissing and cuddling. Oh, my—my little sister was popular. Indeed. For all the wrong reasons, and it didn't take long for the kissing and cuddling to progress to more, uh, athletic forms of contact with the opposite sex. My sister is fairly fascinated with the hydraulics of the male member." Georgia closed her eyes, sipping for the strength to continue. She pointed at the three women, using her glass. "Girls, I remember what it was to be young. Someone comes along, someone like your Charly, and you can't sit still. The entire world revolves around him. I know. But with Sissy, the entire world revolves around whoever is around. And I don't think Daddy has a clue."

  "You've done a good job keeping such upsetting information from Edward. He is not the most liberal of men." R. J. kept pumping her up.

  "That's putting it mildly. Daddy puts women on a pedestal, and he expects them to stay there. Oh, yes." Another sip. "Well, I knew by the time I was at Mary Baldwin that Sissy was going to have a very different personal history than myself. Very different. Mmm-huh. And she never got pregnant. Not once. Her ovaries must be tilted. I know her mind is."

  "Miss Wallace, are you sure I can't bring you something to eat? We have
some biscuits left from breakfast. You know how good they are." Vic watched the orange juice go down.

  "Oh, if it will make you happy. And I'd like some more orange juice, too. Vic, honey, you have the best orange juice."

  As Chris and Vic disappeared to fill the order, Jinx put a stool under Georgia's feet. If Sissy did emerge before her sister was plotzed, this might impede Georgia's lurching up to assault her. "There you are, Miss Wallace."

  "Thank you, Jinx, you have always been the most thoughtful child. You know I was watching those two go into the kitchen—salt and pepper, aren't they? One just as blond and the other jet-black hair. Such beautiful girls. Oh, well, where was I? Oh, thank you." She smiled broadly as Vic and Chris brought her biscuits, jam, butter on a tray, and another glass of orange juice. Vic had taken the precaution of also putting a cup of hot coffee on the tray. "She's been going down there to Don and Bunny's car lot. That's all right" —she waved her hand as though dismissing the visitation— "I go there, too, but she's fallen in with that Hojo. Thirty years difference between them if there's a day, but Sissy says they're 'girl pals.' Well, let me tell you, Hojo is not going to be a Sunday-school teacher. No, ma'am. And she tells my sister, 'You only live once. Do it now.' You get the idea."

  R. J. crossed her long, lean legs. "Georgia, dear, exactly what did she do?"

  "Hojo? I don't know what she's up to, and Sissy won't tell. Not that I'm interested." She popped a biscuit slathered in butter and jam into her mouth. "Marry young. That's my advice. What did Sissy do? I caught her giving Buzz Schonfeld a—I can't put it delicately. She had her mouth on his instrument, and the only reason I found her was because I went down to Don's to see a new truck. Just pricing."

  "She did this at Uncle Don's?" Vic's mouth fell open.

  "Not out on the parking lot." Georgia's voice rose. "No, she was back in the ladies' room, and Hojo was guarding it—trying not to be obvious. I knew perfectly well my sister was in there doing something. I thought burning one." She held up her hand. "Oh, yes—smokes dope. Grows it, too. Pin money. So I pulled my way right by Hojo, who grabbed my belt, and there she was. I was appalled!"

  "Is it statutory rape if a woman engages in oral sex with a minor?" Jinx wondered.

  "I don't know, but it's certainly bad manners. But then the Schon-

  felds are very interested in sex, mmm-huh. And I know Bunny put a stop to that. Damned straight." Georgia raised her forefinger.

  R. J., processing this unsavory but ludicrous news, exhaled through her nostrils two streams of blue Lucky Strike smoke. She put her cigarette on the ashtray. "Georgia, I think none of us should speak of this."

  "Of course, you know she carried on with Boonie Ashley." She paused while she waited for the name to have an effect, which it did. Boonie, proprietor of the local convenience store, was married. "I told myself then that they were both white and over twenty-one, if you'll pardon the expression. I like black people, I do, but I grew up with these expressions and I don't see a thing wrong with them. But a high-school boy—now that's trouble."

  "Yes, it is. I expect, Sissy is seeking Frank's advice." R. J. couldn't get the picture of Sissy sucking off Buzz out of her mind.

  "Hojo won't tell." Vic thought she had a bead on Hojo's character, smart with a wild streak.

  "If Buzz has a grain of sense, he won't either." R. J. picked up her cigarette.

  Georgia's hand flew to her bosom. "I'm certainly not going to put my sister in jail, ruin the family name, but I am deserving of some recompense for my watchful duties over Sissy. Really, you all have no idea."

  "When things have cooled down, perhaps you, Sissy, and Frank should broach this subject without Edward, initially." R. J. reached for a biscuit.

  "Yes." Georgia drained the coffee cup and then reached for the orange juice. "I am so thirsty and hungry, the change of seasons."

  Frank, Sissy on his arm, walked around the house, Piper behind them. "Why, hello. Georgia, how good to see you."

  Sissy's eyes, red and puffy, attested to her tears. "Don't you hit me."

  "I'm not going to hit you. I just don't understand how you could do something like that at eight-thirty in the morning. I knew when you pulled out of the driveway you were up to something. So I followed you. How could you? In the ladies' rooms"

  "Well—" Sissy had no defense.

  "Aren't you the lucky duck that everyone who works there is a man and uses the men's room?" Georgia, now feeling mellow, said to Frank, "This has got to stop."

  "I believe it will. No reason to discuss it." He blushed slightly. "We'll call on you later in the week." Georgia, with assistance from Vic, stood up.

  "We will." Sissy was surprised.

  "Yes. I'll talk to you about it later." Then to no one in particular Georgia said, "Heterosexual overdrive. Hotter than forty balled tomcats. That's the trouble."

  "I can't believe you said that!" Sissy affected a pose of shock tinged with moral superiority.

  "You just shut your mouth, girlie." Georgia, steady as a rock, pounded the bricks to her car.

  Sissy, after a squeeze on her shoulder from Frank, daintily walked to her Plymouth.

  As they both drove out, Chris said, "Girls just got to have fun." Everybody looked at her and then laughed.

  "Dad, could Sissy wind up in jail?" Vic asked once she recovered. "Only if Nora presses charges, and she doesn't know. I doubt Buzz is going to enlighten her. It's all so embarrassing."

  "But it is funny, Frank, you have to admit." R. J. laughed.

  "Well, I guess sex is funny when it happens to someone else." He blushed again.

  J

  uggling two lovers tested Vic's creativity. Charly, blessed with male myopia when it came to women as lovers, never had a clue. Chris, far more insightful, suspected Vic was sleeping with Charly,

  but she was terrified to ask. She knew Vic would tell her the truth.

  Since Charly had a curfew, Vic would invite him over when Chris had classes and Charly didn't. This turned out to be only on Wednesday afternoons but he didn't complain, he was so thrilled they were sleeping together. Every night Vic slept at Chris's or vice versa. They couldn't stay away from one another. Since they were in different departments at school, they were rarely seen together on campus. Off campus they were inseparable.

  Vic dutifully attended the next few home football games, taking Jinx and Chris with her. On weekends of away games, she drove home. She worried about money, and used that worry to keep her mind off her confusion over Chris and Charly. Mignon, in a growth spurt, shot up one full inch. She said her bones hurt from growing pains. As October unfolded with crystal-clear skies and the beginnings of color, Mignon moved into more maturity. The family breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Wallaces bickered, but no shingles were dropped from the roof, no ratshot was fired. IA* transformed her red hair to brittle blonde. Bunny researched the nursery business with her usual thoroughness. R. J. told Frank he had to sign everything over to

  her. He did so and promptly sank into a genteel depression. The sisters began staking out where they were going to plant trees and shrubs for their nursery.

  The days stayed toasty, the nights were crisp, and with each passing day the light softened. High color usually occurred in Surry County the last week of October and the first week of November, and this early November proved especially brilliant.

  Williamsburg, across the James, was jammed with tourists. The campus of William and Mary glowed in the buttery light, the bricks warming to a paprika shade, the white window frames and doorjambs appearing even more white in contrast. Young people tagging along with parents often fell in love with William and Mary on such visits. They would return as students in a few years. The current students trotted across the quad and lawns. Blow-out exams were safely in the future. Like ships anchored offshore, they wouldn't come to port for some time. Late October and early November just made people happy, even giddy with happiness, and many declared it the most beautiful time of the year. They said the
same thing during high spring, too. But fall's tapestry had a few melancholy threads woven alongside the brilliant reds, blazing oranges, and rich cadmium yellows. This knowledge of the coming winter sweetened the season.

  Thoughtful people, or those old enough to remember, have reflected on how people party with a frenzy, couple with abandon, swim in champagne on the eve of disaster. Diaries and letters attest to the fact that the best parties ever in Virginia were held from 1859 to 1863. Somehow it made sense, like having Mardi Gras before Lent makes sense. Fall carried that sense of ending, of fleeting beauty.

  Vic celebrated not at parties but with every breath. She loved the scent of fall. She loved the turning leaves. She loved the soft squish of the grass underfoot when she walked. She loved going home, rowing on the river, the water shining off her oars. She loved William and Mary with the fierceness of one who must soon say good-bye. The fact that she was a senior finally hit her. She loved her mother, father, and sister. She loved Piper. She loved the creamy, majestic cumulus clouds hovering over the tidy, sensible layout of the oldest part of the cam-