by Pamela Morsi
What was even more amazing was that Dawn loved him, too.
She’d told him so. Though he would have known anyway. Her eyes lit up when he walked in. She spent every waking moment, when she wasn’t working, in his company. She didn’t give even the most cursory notice to other guys who came her way. And when he held her in his arms, they just fit perfectly. Their love was their favorite subject of conversation.
“I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you,” he told her as they lay side by side on the campus grass gazing at floating clouds. “I mean, I had girlfriends before, but it was never anything like this.”
“I didn’t even know I could feel like this,” she admitted. “And nobody ever really cared about me before. Nobody ever loved me.”
Sonny nodded. “Me, neither, except my parents of course, and that’s different.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dawn agreed quickly. “That’s different. Look at that one over there.” She pointed to a fluffy puff of cumulus in the distance. “That one looks like a pirate ship.”
“A pirate ship?” Sonny leaned up on his elbows and squinted at the cloud in question. “I think it’s some kind of animal with a really small head.”
They started having sex just a few weeks after they met. Sonny had held back making a move. And in truth, he’d been surprised when she didn’t make any attempt to stop things or even slow them down.
He’d had one other sexual partner in high school, a former steady girlfriend. But when they’d graduated, they’d gone their separate ways with only a slightly tearful goodbye. She’d been a nice person and a fun friend. Physical gratification had been wonderful. But it was nothing like what he felt now, for Dawn.
Dawn was everything. There was nothing about her that he could imagine as imperfect. She was gorgeous to look at—that went without saying. And she was funny and crazy and downright undignified at times. She was so full of life, just the sound of her voice could lighten up everybody around her. He loved the way she just let him talk and talk and talk. It was as if anything he said, no matter how pedantic or far-fetched, fascinated her. He’d come from class, virtually repeating what the professor had said. She always listened as if it were endlessly interesting.
The last seat at the counter was now his regular perch at the pizza place. That’s where he ate all his meals and did all his studying. His frat brothers always knew where to find him. Though they complained that he never wanted to hang out or bar crawl.
Sonny didn’t socialize much anymore. He rarely went out with his friends. For some reason Dawn was uncomfortable around most of his buddies and their girlfriends. And it was just more fun to be alone with her.
When he needed money he’d try to see his dad at his office on campus. Dad was always busy and visits would, of necessity, be short. Even when his father asked what was going on, why hadn’t he come by or called, Sonny dissembled and had gotten away with it.
His mother was not so easily put off. She called his room before 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
“I’m roasting leg of lamb tomorrow,” she told him. It was his favorite meal. Firmly she added, “I expect you to be there.”
Sonny’s face fell as he stared at the phone, but then an idea occurred to him. Perhaps it was time.
“I want to bring a friend,” he said.
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line.
“Of course,” his mother said, barely able to conceal her curiosity. “Is it anyone that I know?”
“I don’t think so,” Sonny answered. “What time? One? One-thirty?”
“One-thirty is fine.”
“We’ll see you then,” he said and hung up quickly before she tried to drag more information out of him.
He headed for his morning shower whistling. He wasn’t nervous or anxious about introducing Dawn to his family. In fact, he could hardly wait for them to meet her.
Sonny had always had a great relationship with his parents. As an only child, he knew that he’d been doted upon and probably spoiled rotten, but he had an empathic temperament. He loved his folks and he knew how proud of him they were.
“You’re my life’s great joy,” his mother told him often.
His dad was not as verbal about it, but Sonny knew he felt the same way.
There was not even the slightest worry in Sonny’s mind about introducing them to the love of his own life. He knew they would love her, too.
“Your parents?” Dawn said the word in an ominous whisper. “I can’t meet your parents.”
“Of course you can,” Sonny told her. “You’ll have to meet them sometime.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re my parents.”
“Oh, no, Sonny, I really can’t.”
“Dawn?”
“No, really,” she insisted. “I don’t meet parents. That’s not one of my things. I’ll meet your friends. I’ll even go to those crazy parties at your frat house, but I won’t meet any parents.”
She was adamant. Sonny wasted the greater part of their Saturday night date trying to convince her. The next afternoon, disgruntled and out of sorts, he showed up at home without her.
“Is your friend going to meet you here?” his mother asked.
“No,” Sonny answered. “She decided not to come.”
“She?”
“Yeah,” he answered. His mother was obviously very curious, but Sonny was still smarting from Dawn’s rejection and held off any further questions. That is, until they were seated for dinner. The table was set with his mother’s best china and the handsome leg of lamb and its accompanying vegetables looked as appetizing as they smelled.
The three of them clasped hands across the dinner table as they always had, as his father, Vern, said grace.
After the amen, his dad smiled at him.
“It’s good to have you home,” he said. “Dinner at this table just doesn’t feel much like a family with just Phrona and me.”
“Thanks Dad.”
“So tell us about your girl,” his father said. “You know your mother is about to expire from curiosity.”
“I really wanted you to get to meet her,” Sonny said. “She’s…she’s just wonderful. You’re going to love her.”
“Does that mean you love her?” his mother asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Sonny nodded. “She’s the one.”
His parents exchanged startled glances across the table and then both of them burst into excited questions. So many and so fast, Sonny had no chance of answering.
“One at a time,” he said, laughing. “Mama, you can go first.”
“Okay, okay,” his mother said. “Start with the basics. What’s her name?”
“Dawn Dixon,” Sonny answered and turned to his dad.
“Where did you meet her?”
“Proletariat Pizza,” he answered. “She’s waiting tables there as an after-class job.”
“She’s a student?”
Sonny nodded. “She’s a freshman, too. She lives in Strong Hall.”
“What’s she studying?”
Sonny drew a blank and hesitated. “You know, I don’t think I ever asked,” he admitted. “First year, we’re all taking the same things.”
His parents nodded in agreement.
“Where’s she from?”
“Here in Knoxville,” he said.
“Do we know any Dixons?” Phrona asked Vern.
“I think they must have moved around a lot,” Sonny said. “I got the impression that she was in a lot of different schools growing up.”
“What does her father do?”
Sonny shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. I guess we don’t talk about our folks much.”
“Well, of course not,” his mother said. “Young people have much better things than that to talk about.”
Vern agreed with a chuckle. “And those things aren’t the important things,” he said. “I’m sure that no matter who her parents are, what they do or where they live, if you lov
e her, Sonny, we will, too.”
“Of course we will,” his mother agreed.
But it hadn’t worked out that way.
His mother, a genealogy hobbyist, had gotten curious about the Dixons and began researching the family. Unfortunately, there were so many Dixon family lines in Tennessee that she just had to have more information. She called Sonny on several occasions asking for names, dates, places, something she could work with. When he never came up with anything, she took matters into her own hands. Sonny heard about it soon enough.
“Your mother was in here today.” Dawn’s words were spoken like an accusation. “I will not be investigated like some perp on Unsolved Mysteries.”
Sonny shook his head. “Mama’s not like that,” he assured her. “She just loves family history stuff. She’s traced us back to the Pilgrims.”
“She’s saying I’m not good enough for you because my family doesn’t go back that far.”
“All families go back to someone, somewhere,” he told her. “It’s not like it’s a competition, it’s just ancestors. Ancestors are like toes, they might be curious or ordinary, but everybody’s got them and nobody spends a lot of time thinking about them.”
“My toes are strictly my own and I don’t discuss them with anybody,” Dawn stated adamantly.
“Okay, fair enough,” Sonny said. “I’ll tell Mama that from now on she should mind her own business.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be good enough,” Dawn said. “Why don’t you just tell Mama that we’ve broken up. That’s what she wants to hear anyway.”
Sonny was incredulous.
“Dawn?”
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” she said. “Don’t come in here, don’t call me. It’s over. I knew it wouldn’t last, and I was right. Go!”
She’d pointed to the door, but Sonny didn’t leave. He sat down on his usual stool at the counter, waiting for her to cool down so they could talk again. He waited all evening.
Dawn never spoke to him again. She wouldn’t even look in his direction. At closing, he waited by the back door. To his surprise, a big, hairy guy with a huge, flashy pickup showed up, as well. With barely a glance in Sonny’s direction, Dawn got in the ape’s truck and they drove away. He thought there were tears in her eyes, but in the dim light of the alley he couldn’t be sure.
The next day, he went to see his mother.
“I’m not sure today is the best day to talk to her,” Vern warned him.
“Oh?”
“Your girlfriend insulted her,” his father said. “She called your mother a nosy bitch.”
Sonny blanched.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t have a clue,” Vern answered. “But you know how Phrona hates coarse talk like that.”
“Mama must have said something to her first,” Sonny insisted. “Dawn is a sweet, lovely, happy person. She wouldn’t attack for no reason.”
Vern shrugged and shook his head. “Phrona sure didn’t go down there with causing trouble in mind. She’s been so giddy and excited all week about your new girlfriend. I told her it was probably best to let you arrange an introduction, but she just couldn’t wait to meet her.”
“Well, Mama must have done something,” Sonny told him. “Dawn is so furious, she broke up with me over it.”
“Well, that’s the best news I’ve had all day,” his mother said, coming in from the dining room doorway.
Sonny didn’t like that a bit. He was suffering the worst emotional pain he’d experienced in his young, sheltered life. And he didn’t know what it was about. He loved Dawn. She had become the center of his universe. She was the first thought in his mind when he awakened in the morning. And the last when he fell asleep at night. In these last months he’d rearranged all his dreams for his future to fit neatly around his dream of being with her. But his life had been inexplicably turned upside down. And he hadn’t a clue as to how or why it had happened.
He’d come to his parents for help and comfort. But instead his mother was adding more heartbreak to his already wrenching disappointment.
“How can you say that, Mama?” he asked her. “I love Dawn.”
Phrona shook her head. “This girl isn’t who you think she is,” she said. “I’ve been making some phone calls. Knoxville may be a city, but it’s also still a small town.”
“You’ve been scraping up gossip about my girlfriend?” Sonny was incredulous. “Did you actually think I would want to hear any of it?”
“Sonny, I’ve found out some things that you ought to know.”
If he hadn’t been so emotionally bruised. If he hadn’t been caught off guard. If a meteor had hit or the house caught on fire, the next moments might have been different. But they weren’t. Sonny rose to his feet, as angry at his mother as he had ever been with another human being.
“I don’t want to hear one word,” he declared. “I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And anything about her that I need to know, I’ll hear it only from her.”
“Sonny, she’s been lying to you!”
“No! I’m not listening to any of this,” he said. “You’re my mother and I love and respect you, but I will not sit here while you spread some nasty gossip about my Dawn.”
He left the house then. Deliberately not slamming the door. Slamming the door would be a kid thing. He was no longer a kid. He was a man and he was fighting for the woman he loved.
He drove directly to Proletariat Pizza. He had to talk to her. But she wasn’t there.
“I thought Dawn was working today,” he said to Sheila.
Sheila lowered her voice to answer, her expression full of sympathy.
“She called in this morning and just quit. No reason, no notice. The boss is furious.”
Sonny walked up the street to Strong Hall. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was determined to find out. He approached the hospitality desk.
“Dawn Dixon,” he said to the receptionist.
She put the name into her computer. He waited.
“Could you spell that last name?”
He did.
“No, she’s not living here at Strong,” the woman said.
“I know she lives here,” Sonny said. “I’ve walked her home a hundred times.”
“Maybe she’s moved,” the woman suggested. “Let me check the entire student housing list.”
Sonny waited as more computer keys clicked and clicked.
“No Dawn Dixon in any of our residence halls,” she told him. “Why don’t you check with the bursar’s office. If she lives off campus, they may be able to help you with an address.”
He spent the next hour in the administration building, listening, waiting, arguing.
“There is no Dawn Dixon currently on any UT campus and none listed among our former students.”
The inevitability of that fact had been weighing on Sonny, but having it voiced aloud was like a kick in the stomach.
REAL LIFE
7
It was that next morning when I noticed the photographs. They were sitting in plain sight on the little mantel in the dining room. I must have walked past them a dozen times and never noticed.
My mind was elsewhere. Sierra had slept in, as usual, but I got up and made myself at home with toast and jelly. Two minutes after I got there, Mrs. Leland walked in. She was obviously startled to see me, but instead of saying so, she gave me a sort of fake half smile and asked me if I’d found everything I wanted. I was polite, but I basically ignored her. She made coffee and pretended to be busy over by the sink. I knew she had to be pretending because there was nothing that could possibly be done. Hers was the cleanest kitchen I’d ever been in. The counters were all gleaming. There wasn’t a smudge on the tile, a crumb on the floor or a even an empty Pop-Tarts wrapper hanging out of the garbage. It was almost creepy. Sierra and I took turns doing dish duty, but neither of us ever got so into it. Mrs. Leland was definitely one of those women on the TV commercials,
ecstatic over some antibacterial liquid or paper towel.
More reason to dislike her. I ate my toast and brooded.
When Mom entered the kitchen, she was already showered and dressed. She greeted us both with a cheery smile, but I knew it wasn’t genuine. She was wearing what I called her fake-it getup. The gray suit was kind of tweedy, very conservative. It had hung in Mom’s closet always and was worn only for occasions like contesting a speeding ticket, attending a parent-teacher conference or going to a funeral.
“May I get you some coffee?” Mrs. Leland asked her.
“Yeah, great,” Mom answered.
“Cream and sugar?”
“All I need is some artificial sweetener,” she answered.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any of that.”
Mom nodded. “Sugar’s fine then.”
She stirred her coffee and Mrs. Leland hovered at her sink for a few minutes before grabbing up a watering can and heading out the back door inferring that she was going to tend her flowers.
“Where are you off to?” I asked Mom.
She smiled, but she didn’t look me in the eye. “Oh, just some personal business,” she said, evasively.
“I heard something about a doctor,” I admitted.
She didn’t seem surprised that I’d wormed out that info. Mom looked at me directly then.
“It’s probably just some gynecological thing,” she said with a wink. “I know how you hate talking about that stuff.”
That was true. I’d started having my period the winter before and it still seemed like the yuckiest, most uncomfortable and inconvenient thing imaginable. Sierra thought I should be grateful, finally maturing up, later than a lot of my classmates. But to me it was just a nuisance. I couldn’t, however, let my aversion to discussion of the female world be used to sidetrack me from finding out what was going on.
“Sierra says that you’re probably pregnant,” I told her, being deliberately nonchalant.