A Dear, Sweet Girl

He was pretty much packed, one large suitcase full, two crates of albums, one duffel bag.  He had to leave room for the three riders he would pick up on his way, one in St. Louis, two in Columbia.  One was a woman who was going to veterinary school in Boston, one was a guy with a Polish name who was only going as far as Chicago, the last was a woman who was going to New York to be an actress.

“Did you get your car serviced like your daddy told you to?” his mother asked him as he sat on the living room couch, staring out the picture window.

“Yes, mom,” he said with suppressed irritation in his voice.

“I don't know what you're going to do if you get halfway across the country and your car breaks down.”

“I think they have gas stations pretty much everywhere now, mom.”

“I know that, but how are you going to pay for it?  You only have so much cash.”

“I have a gas credit card, remember?”

“But what if you don't break down in front of the right kind of service station?”

“You call triple A.”

“Well, they aren't going to tow you halfway across the country.”

“No, they'll tow me to the next service station.”

His mother gave up after that, realizing he had thought things through, and went off to fold some clean towels for him.  He was planning on driving to Columbia, staying with his sister, picking up the two riders who lived there as early as he could, then go on to St. Louis, then to Chicago and straight through from there.

His mother came back into the room carrying a load of towels, which she stuffed into a shopping bag.

“I'm giving you three, plus three wash cloths and one hand towel.  Do you think that'll be enough?”

“I'm sure they'll have towels when I get there.”

“But you shouldn't impose on your friends.”

“I'm not going to be a weekend guest, mom, I'm going to live there.”

“Well, what if all of your roommates move out and leave you stuck with the lease?  That happened to Gwen Belt once, and her father had to pay the rent for the rest of the year.”

No wonder, he thought to himself.

“Did you ever see Gwen around this summer?”

“Downtown once.”

“She's really become very pretty, don't you think.”

“Yeah, better than she used to be.”

“Her mother took her to a make-up consultant from Kansas City who was at her beauty shop one Saturday, and he told her she needed to highlight her cheekbones.  I think it made all the difference in the world.”

“Um-hmm.”

His mother left the room again but this time came back with two gifts instead of an armful of clothes or home furnishings.  She sat down on the couch next to him and handed him one of the presents.

“What's this?” he asked, generating as much feigned interest as he could.

“Just a little family thing I want you to have.”

 “Well, thanks mom.”  He opened the package up methodically, as if wanting to present the gift to himself in the absolute best light.  He undid the red ribbon, then pulled back the white tissue paper.  It was a faded brown book about the size of his hand, the pages mottled by water and warped by mildew.  He opened it up and saw that it was a Confederate Army Cavalry Manual—one that had belonged to his mother's great-grandfather.

“Look at the inside,” she said softly.

He opened the cover and read “Oliver B. Talcott, Army of Northern Virginia.”

“Gee, mom, thanks,” he said.  “I know how much this must mean to you.”

“I saved it when we took care of Grandma Talcott's estate five years ago.  I never told anybody that I set it aside for you.”

He looked at it and thought about his grandfather, Oliver IV.  What a miserable old coot, he thought.  Sitting in front of his TV every night, grousing about Hank Aaron and “all the attention the nigra ballplayers was gettin' today,” yelling at grandmother, spanking him for pouring sand over his sister's head.

“And this . . . ,” his mother said, handing him a gift-wrapped box.

He opened it up gingerly and when he peeled back the tissue paper, saw that it was a fancy pocket mirror, with “Veiled Prophet Ball” worked into pewter on its back over the ghostly image of a veiled man.

“That was Grammie Talcott's,” his mother said.  “She was a member of the real upper crust of St. Louis society.”

“Uh, thanks mom, but are you sure you want this rattling around inside my suitcase?”

“Well—I just thought you'd like to have it.”

“Don't you think you should give it to Delia?”

“I don't think she cares.  She's too busy riding motorcycles.”

He turned the mirror over and caught a glimpse of himself.  He had put on weight over the summer, drinking beer late at night with his old high school friends.  It had been fun, but after a while he had become bored.  Those guys were going to be stuck here for the rest of their lives, and he needed to move on.

“She never should have married Matt Horgan,” his mother continued, breaking his moment of reflection.  “He ruined their boy and as soon as he did he was gone.”

“They grew up together, we knew the family, mom,” he said trying to calm her down on the eve of his leaving.  “Sometimes these things don't work out.”

“I wasn't born yesterday,” she said, sounding resigned but still bitter.

“Anyway, why don't you keep the mirror, mom.  It's not really a boy toy.”

“It's not a toy, it's a very expensive keepsake,” she said as he handed it back to her.  “Back when we were growing up they used to give you really nice favors at the Veiled Prophet—not cheap stuff.”

“It's nice, but I think Delia should have it.”

“Grammy and Paw-paw would have been rich if that Jew lawyer hadn't gypped them out of the land where they built Kiel Auditorium.”

“I think you're mixing up your slurs.”

“What?”

“You need a gypsy to get gypped out of something.”

“Same thing as far as I'm concerned.  Gypsies just operate differently.”

Same but different, he thought. 

“Clint Kane paid $300 to a bunch of gypsies to resurface his driveway, and the first time it rained the blacktop washed away,” she added.

He laughed, thinking of the man next door who had three different businesses, all of them prosperous, who styled himself a hard-headed realist.

“It's not funny, sweetie.  The world is full of unscrupulous people, and you have to watch out for them.”

“I think I can take care of myself, mom.”

“You don't know.”  She turned to look him in the eyes.  “Promise me you'll be careful back East,” she said, her eyes tearing up.

“I promise, mom.”

They were silent for a while as his mother dabbed at her eyes and he put his arm lightly on her shoulder.

“I wish you'd stay here, honey,” she said.

“I've made up my mind, mom.”

“I know, but don't close the door.”

“I don't know what I'd do around here.”

“Clint said he'd teach you the real estate business.”

“I'd need a harder heart to do that,” he said.

“I don't think he's hard-hearted.”

“Mom, he evicted Wade and his wife.”

“He did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if they don't pay their rent they can't expect to stay in one of his homes.”

“I know, mom.  I'm just saying—I don't think I'm cut out for a job where I have to throw my friends out on the street.”

“Maybe you need a better class of friends.”

“I'm sure I do.  But I've got to make do with what I've got around here.”

“There are lots of nice young people in this town.”

“Name a couple for me.”

She thought for a moment.  “Well, I think Paul Muller's doing well in his daddy's insurance business.”

“I don't doubt it.”

“And there's Gwen.”

“Okay, I was wrong, that's two.”

She looked away, then turned back to him.  “Would you at least drop Gwen a line every now and then?”

“Mom, I never had a conversation with her that wasn't completely superficial.”

“I don't see what that's got to do with the price of tea in China.  A husband and wife can get along for years without saying anything deep to each other.  I know your father and I did, God rest his soul.”

He waited until she had talked herself out.  “I'm just saying, mom, that I don't think we have that much in common.”

“She's a dear, sweet girl,” his mother said.

He took a deep breath.  “That's not really what I'm looking for now, mom.”

“Well, I don't know why you wouldn't be,” she said as she turned to look out the picture window.  “I guess I don't know my own children anymore.”

She stood up and went back to packing for him.