Alma Mater

by Rita Mae Brown

  "Men don't think of those things." Vic laughed. "Maybe God is a man, after all."

  "That's why people pray to the Virgin Mary." Mignon folded her arms across her chest.

  "Look what happened to her . . . Mary's barbecue."

  I

  n Williamsburg, candles glowed in every window, garlands adorned the horns of the much photographed oxen down in the historic area, mistletoe hung over doorways, and trees filled the big

  shop windows. The tramp tramp of tourist feet reminded each resident what side his or her bread was buttered on, too. Despite the constant traffic, shopkeepers and shoppers smiled, doing their best to please.

  A frazzled Vic was also doing her best to please. Packing up her apartment didn't take much time. She'd never advanced beyond the bed and the kitchen table. She left the bed, moved the kitchen table to Chris's, sold her textbooks with a twinge of sadness, and paid her landlord, whom she liked, an extra month's rent.

  Charly, overflowing with energy, was as happy as she'd ever seen him. She thought no longer having her apartment would end the possibility of making love with him. But he wanted to find another place. She put him off, felt terrible, and drove over to see Jinx.

  Jinx sipped from her steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Whoever invented this stuff should be sitting at the right hand of God." The steam rising from the drink made her blink. "Sorry, no religious talk around you.

  "Hail Mary, Mother of .....Vic blew over her own cocoa.

  "You haven't told him."

  "Oh, Jinx, he's so happy except for the fact that I wouldn't sleep with him today. It's almost Christmas. I feel like a total shit."

  "The longer you wait, the worse it gets, unless you're changing your mind." Jinx swallowed a little of her drink.

  "No, but come on, we're all out of here on Friday. It can wait. I know you think I'm a wimp, but I'm not." She sighed. "Except it is harder than I thought. I really do love him."

  "Why can't you just marry him and keep Chris as your mistress? He'll never know." A devilish gleam sparkled in Jinx's eyes.

  "She'd never put up with it. Don't think I could do it. I couldn't lie to him."

  "You're lying to him now. Omission is a form of lie."

  "Goddammit, Jinx, you're supposed to be my best friend. You're not making this any easier."

  "I am your best friend, and you're lying to him."

  Vic was about as steamed as her hot chocolate; then she cooled down. "Can't we compromise and say I'm easing him down?"

  "Don't you think he knows? Come on, you all went to bed together."

  "If a guy's getting good sex, it wouldn't begin to occur to him that you're also having great sex with a woman."

  "I still think he knows," Jinx declared.

  "Then why is he putting up with it?"

  "Because he loves you, idiot. And like anyone in love, he can't allow himself to think of losing the person that he loves. So maybe he just thinks it's a fad."

  "Haven't told Mom and Dad either. I've got to work up for the next

  major emotional event. Details at eleven." Vic ruefully smiled.

  "Yeah, the main attraction starts in three minutes." Jinx took a big

  swallow. "How do you know you won't miss him when he's gone?" "I will."

  "Sex, too?"

  She turned the cup around in her hands. "Maybe sometimes I'll think of him like that, but what I'll miss is him."

  "How do you know you won't pick up guys on the side? You know, later on."

  "No."

  "Okay. Let's try another scenario. Suppose for some inexplicable reason"—Jinx held up her hands palms outward, a pacifying gesture—"you and Chris broke up. Would you go back to Charly?"

  "No."

  "Another man?"

  "No. I'm not saying I wouldn't go to bed with another man. Look, I'm discovering that I'm incredibly sexual, but he wouldn't be my first choice."

  "You'd look for another woman?"

  "Yes."

  Jinx drained her cup, setting it back on the table. "You won't have to look far. People will always find you."

  "Are you surprised at how I feel?"

  "Not now. I was in the beginning, but if you believe this is your path, I believe it, too. And I hope it all works out. I'm sorry for Charly, but you are what you are."

  "The person who has surprised me the most is Mignon. She knows. She's actually kept her mouth shut. And she said to me over the weekend that she didn't want me to shut her out of my life. I nearly fell over."

  "She's incredibly smart."

  "She is, but she's been such a pain in the ass for the last couple of years I haven't noticed. She's grown up, sort of all at once. I don't remember doing it that way. Guess I'm still growing up."

  "I don't think it's supposed to stop."

  "Sure has for Edward Wallace."

  "Oh, that."

  "Yolanda's living in the kitchen."

  "God."

  "You know, I had a thought while I was cleaning. It's a terrible, terrible thought, and I should have my face slapped."

  "Oh?"

  "It's Christmas. The Blessed Virgin Mother should have a pretty new red satin dress, a glass of eggnog, a reindeer pin, and a Santa hat."

  "Don't you dare!"

  V

  ic drove Chris to the Norfolk airport Friday morning. They spent the hour-long trip planning their reunion. They exchanged their gifts sitting in the car in the parking lot. Each one promised not to open the other's present until Christmas morning. The kissed, left the car, and made their way to the gate. "Oh, honey, I don't want to go."

  Vic hugged her. "Won't be too long before I'm right back here picking you up, but I'll miss you. I hate being without you."

  "Me, too." Chris wiped her eyes, sniffled a little, kissed Vic on the cheek, and then hurried down the runway.

  Vic watched from the huge windows until the silver airplane lifted off. Chris would fly to Baltimore and from there catch a commuter to York.

  From Norfolk, Vic drove home. She motored along back roads, through the hamlets festooned with Christmas decorations, everything red, green, and gold. Elves cavorted on the lawns, Santa and his reindeer appeared to land at county courthouses, churches put their creches out front, and town squares boasted large trees draped with lights and ornaments. She thought about the work total strangers had put into these displays, and she was suddenly deeply grateful. Everywhere around her people tried to make things beautiful, festive. And when it

  wasn't Christmas, they cut lawns, trimmed fence lines, painted fences, barns, and houses, and planted gardens of flowers and vegetables. She was the beneficiary of this labor, if only for a fleeting moment.

  She wanted to stop the Impala at the next courthouse, push through the old double doors, and thank everyone. But instead she knew it was time to contribute her own labor, great or small. It really was time to grow up.

  Rather than making her feel solemn and sober, her sudden lack of structure made her feel wonderful. College now seemed to her a holding pen. She had charged out of the pen. She'd make her way in the world as best she could and do what she could for others.

  One for all and all for one. Alexandre Dumas was right, she mused, as she pulled into McKenna's, the sun high overhead. She planned to ask Uncle Don what Bunny wanted for Christmas. Something to watch with her binoculars, probably.

  She was no sooner out of her car when Hojo flew out of the display and called to her, "Vic, come in here!"

  Vic hurried in, pushed a little by the wind at her tail. "What?"

  "You aren't gonna believe this. Come here." Hojo grabbed her by the wrist, her tight sweater revealing breasts in perfect proportion to the rest of her body. Hojo dragged her to the spotless garage area. "Can you kicking believe it?"

  In the garage sat a brand-new blue-and-silver three-quarter-ton Dodge Ram truck. Welders were working on it, orange sparks flying upward.

  "What's going on?" Vic asked.

  "Old man Wallace marched in here today,
bought the truck, and then paid for the modifications. He's putting in a ramp that won't hurt his back to raise and lower . . . it's got a hydraulic lift, and you know how expensive something like that can be, and then he had these thin metal bars put across his back window, although I don't know why. And he's putting on steel sides welded right onto the bed, can't ever remove them."

  "Kind of like a small hay wagon."

  "He's throwing another five thousand dollars into this truck, and

  honey, it ain't cheap to begin with—plus, plus, he's putting in a phone. A phone in his truck. He's going to have an aerial as long as a fishing rod, swaying every time he goes over ten miles an hour."

  "Guess he's going back into business. Retirement is killing him." Vic wished that lovely truck were her Christmas present.

  "Hell, no. He's doing it for Yolanda. She can walk up and down the ramp. He says that if she wants to go for a spin, he'll take her." "Holy cow." Vic laughed, winking.

  "You got that right." Hojo laughed along with her. "Whe wants to haul his cow around Surry County, what do I care? But you'd better believe that Georgia and Sissy will care, 'cause this rig costs as much as a brand-new Cadillac. They'll kill him, I swear they will."

  "That's a possibility."

  "Not when I'm working. I don't want to clean up all that blood." "Vic!" Bunny called from the doorway of the garage.

  "She's like a tick," Hojo grunted. "I know she's your aunt and all, but the last week it's like she's painted on the floors. And on my ass. I do my job. I earn my paycheck."

  "Vic! I want to talk to you right this instant."

  Hojo looked sympathetically at Vic. "Sounds like she's going to tear you a new one."

  "It kind of does, doesn't it?"

  "Sony." Hojo slapped her five, low and inside.

  "Thanks." Vic, head up, smiling, approached her aunt.

  Bunny grasped Vic's elbow and pulled her into the narrow hallway between Parts and Service. lust what are you doing, and why didn't you tell me? You could have said something when you were here yesterday. I am so upset with you I could spit."

  "It didn't seem like the right time."

  "It was." Bunny pressed her lips together.

  "Not in front of Hojo and Georgia and—well, Aunt Bunny, I was worn out from telling Mom and Dad. I didn't mean any disrespect."

  "I would have heard you out."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Sony? I'm sick. How could you do such a foolish, stupid, childish

  thing? And so close to graduation. I ought to hit you over the head with my binoculars and knock some sense into you."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "This is just killing your mother."

  Vic flared up. "No, it's not. Come on, Aunt Bunny, don't make it worse than it is. Mom and I talked it through, and she may not be real proud of me right this minute, but she's not wretched."

  "She's damned upset!"

  "You're more upset than she is."

  "I am upset. I can't believe you'd be that dumb, to do it in the first place—and then to get caught!"

  "There's nothing I can do about it now."

  "Well, you'll finish up somewhere else. That you can do. After that, you'll be gone who knows where."

  "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to work."

  She threw up one hand. "Oh, la! You'll be married in no time, and who knows where you'll land."

  "I don't want to land anywhere. I want to stay right here. I've thought a lot about it. I love Surry County. I don't know if Mom has talked to you, but I'd like to work in your nursery. I'd love to learn the business from the ground up, forgive the pun. And .. . this is my home."

  "Your home is where your husband is."

  "Aunt Bunny, my home is where I say it is." A flash of fire came from Vic.

  This stopped Bunny for a minute. "The jobs aren't here, and men make more money than women."

  "I don't give a damn. I'm living in Surry County."

  "Vic, you surprise me sometimes. I believe you mean it."

  "I do." Her anger ebbed, and she joked. "Maybe I'll set up a rival dealership. Cadillacs. I can sell them to the Wallaces."

  "The way they drive, you'd have steady customers."

  Bunny's mood lightened. "Pushing metal . . . tough business. And I have called every damn dealer in Virginia trying to get those two birds Cadillacs cheap. I'm telling you . . . tough business."

  "Has Mom spoken to you?" Vic returned to the subject close to her heart.

  "Yes. We're getting together to thoroughly discuss it after Christmas. There's too much to do right now, and this deserves our full attention." Bunny paused. "What have you bought Charly?"

  "Nothing yet. I want to get him a bomber jacket, but I don't have the money. Tell me, what would Uncle Don like?"

  "Vitamins."

  "Really?"

  "That man needs help." Bunny tossed her head to the side. "Buy him B-vitamins and ginseng, and anything that restores vigor."

  "If you say so. What do you want?"

  "A husband with restored vigor."

  Vic smiled. "I'll think of something."

  Bunny reached into the deep pocket of her skirt and pulled out a wad of twenties. "Here. Buy that jacket for your boyfriend."

  "Aunt Bunny . . . thanks. But I can't take it."

  "Get your degree."

  "I can't promise that either."

  Thwarted, Bunny finally said, "Take the money anyway. Get him his

  bomber jacket. By the way, did you read the Williamsburg paper today?" "No. I got up early to take Chris to the Norfolk airport."

  "Well, there's a photo of the Virgin Mary statue. And she's dressed

  like Santa Claus. Did you strike again?"

  "No. Honest."

  "I'm glad to hear that. At least you learned something. And it appears you started a tradition."

  "Think I'd better get the paper."

  "Have it in the office."

  They trooped back to Don's office, past Hojo who was ensconced once more in her command post. Vic flashed the okay sign to her behind Bunny's back as she passed.

  When she saw the photograph in the paper, Vic snickered, then giggled, and then laughed out loud. "I would have put her in a cocktail party dress."

  "Tsk, tsk," Bunny scolded her, but obviously enjoyed the idea.

  V

  is called Chris every day. Chris couldn't wait to get out of there, for Christmas to be over and to be back in Vic's arms. Her mother, committed to perfection and therefore eternally

  disappointed, was going crazy over the holidays, and driving everyone else nuts, too. Other than that, life was peachy.

  Once R. J. walked by just as Vic was signing off, saying, "I love you."

  "Charly?" she asked, after Vic hung up the phone.

  "No."

  Her mother paused a minute, the dish towel she'd been using to polish silver flapping from her waistband. "A rival?"

  "Mother."

  "Well, darling, one doesn't tell people one loves them unless one does."

  "I love you," Vic mischievously replied.

  "I love you, too. Shall I assume you aren't going to tell me?" "Yes."

  R. J. grabbed her dish towel to throw it at Vic when the phone rang again in the kitchen. She reached past her daughter to pick it up. "Hello?"

  "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Savedge." Charly's deep voice wished her well.

  "Merry Christmas to you. I'll bet you want your girl, and she's right here."

  "Thank you."

  She handed her daughter the phone, walked over to the now sparkling silver tray, and put the teapot, coffeemaker, creamer, and sugar bowl on it, carrying all of it into the dining room.

  Vic called out, "Mom, Charly wants to come over later—is that okay?"

  R. J. called back, "Of course."

  Mignon joined her mother in the dining room. "Mom, make Daddy put together the base for the tree. I can't do it."

  "I'll just bet that you can."

  "Oh, Mom."
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