Higher Education (21 page)

“Well, not really old times, but—”

“In fact, I'm sort of behind schedule at this point.”

“Are you?” I slide my sunglasses down over my eyes. “So am I. Thanks for reminding me.”

He nods. “Going jogging now?”

“No, I'm going to the Union for brunch.”

“You're not going to let a little cold stop you from jogging, are you?” He wags a chiding forefinger at me. “Remember, no pain, no gain.”

“I don't have a cold.”

“Then why aren't you going jogging?”

“Well, it's been fun, Walt.” I turn to cross Quincy Street.

“See you later, Miranda,” he calls out cheerfully as he strides down the sidewalk. “Hope your hay fever gets better.”

I'm trying to figure out just what has happened. Jackson, whom I scarcely know well enough to nod a greeting at, is now gracefully sprawled out on my living-room sofa and chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes. Didn't he wink at me as we bumped into each other at the coffee machine
?

“
It's not so bad having parents who are divorced,” he's saying. “Especially if one of them lives in France.
”

“
I can imagine.
”

“
Of course I never tell anyone that I went to junior high in New Hampshire.” He blows a smoke ring over my head
.

“
No, why would you
?”

“
High school was great, though. I got my
bac
in Paris.
”

“
Wow.” I blink at him. His face is so thin and angular, his skin still boyishly smooth and soft-looking. “That's great.
”

He laughs, smiling down at me on the floor, where I sit leaning against the sofa with my knees curled up to my chest, arms clasped around my shins. “Do you know what a
bac
is
?”

“
Well, no.” I feel my face getting warm. “But I assume you're not talking about musical composers.
”

“
Clever girl.
”

“Qui, moi?”

“Oui, toi.”
Smiling, he blows another effortlessly aimed smoke ring into the air
. “Tu parles français?”

“
No, no. I just did well in French A, that's all.
”

“
You
are
a clever girl.
”

“
Well, thanks.
”

There is a pause, during which I notice that my feet are falling asleep. Then Jackson coughs softly. “You know I broke up with Madeleine Anfang a little while ago, don't you
?”

I stay perfectly still. “I didn't even know you were going out together.
”

“
You didn't?” He seems surprised. “But we all live in Adams House, yes? You must have seen us together.
”

“
Well, yes, but
—”
I stop myself from saying
But I never really noticed.

“
But what?” He stubs out his cigarette with a quizzical air
.

“
Oh, nothing.” I feel myself blushing again, and turn in relief when my roommate Elizabeth suddenly unlocks the door and comes ambling into the room, swinging her Guatemalan bag. She sees Jackson, shoots me an astonished look, says a general hello and without breaking stride goes into her room and shuts the door behind her
.

Jackson laughs again. “Never mind.” Languidly he stands up. “Let's turn the stereo down a little, shall we
?”

I watch him go over to the stereo and adjust the volume, my eyes sweeping up and down the long-legged span of his body. Then I drop my gaze to my now-numb feet as he turns back around and comes to sit next to me on the carpet, lolling against the sofa
.

“
Those
are
nice socks,” he says into my ear
.

“
What?” I meet his eyes for a second and look back down again. “Oh. Thanks. Ow.
”

“
What's the matter
?”

Gingerly I stretch out my legs. “These damn shinsplints.” I start flexing my ankles, trying not to grimace at the painful tingling
.

“
You run, don't you
?”

“
I jog a little.
”

“Ma belle,
I call that running. I've seen you.” Jackson rests his arm on the sofa cushion, almost but not quite touching my shoulders. “You run at really weird hours too.
”

“
Do I?” I jiggle my feet
.

“
Just last week I was coming back from an Advocate party and you nearly ran me down.
”

“
I did? Where
?”

“
On Mount Auburn Street. Wihout even saying hello.
”

“
Oh, I'm sorry.
”

“
The point is, running at six o'clock in the morning is weird.
”

“
It's the best time to go running on the beach.” I feel his hand lightly brush the back of my neck. “When the tide is out, see
?”

“
Yes, I see,” he says softly
.

I am silent, pretending to listen to the music. Then, when his fingers slide gently along the side of my throat, I take a deep breath. “I've been meaning to tell you.
”

“
Yes
?”

Oh dear god. “
I've been admiring your blazer all evening.
”

“
Have you
?”

“
You wear blazers a lot, don't you
?”

“
I own a couple of Pierre Cardins. “He's smiling at me
.

“
Ah.
” Dear, dear god. “
French.
”

“
Of course.” He leans an inch or two closer
.

“
Ah.
”

“
Yes.” Lightly he kisses my temple
.

“
Jackson
?”

“
Mmm
?”

“
This is a stupid question, but
—”

“
There are no stupid questions.” Now he kisses my eyebrow
.

“
This one is.
”

“
Try me.
”

“
What time is it
?”

“
Late,” he says calmly
.

“
Oh dear.
”

“
What's the matter
?”

“
I have to get up early tomorrow.
”

“
Do you
?”

“
I'm afraid so.
”

“
No problem.
”

“
What
?”

“
I'll get up with you.
”

“
I mean really early.
”

“
Okay.
”

“
I have a nine o'clock class.
”

“
Fine.
”

“
I like to get there five minutes early.
”

“
We'll set the alarm.
”

“
Really
?”

“
Crack of dawn.
”

“
Sometimes I even get there ten minutes early.
”

“
I'll set the alarm myself.
”

“
Yes?” With childlike deliberation I graze the tips of my fingers across the warm silky flesh of his cheekbone. “I'm serious, Jackson. I really do have to get up early.
”

“
I'm serious too.” He stands up, holds out his hands to me, and slowly, prolonging the gesture, slowly he pulls me to my still-tingling feet. And as his arms go around me, somewhere in the back of my mind I find myself wondering if either one of us really will bother to set the alarm tonight
.

I look down at the tabletop.
Styrofoam cup
, I say to myself, the syllables rolling unintelligibly through my head.
Plastic utensils. Wheat toast
. I reach for my coffee, but the gesture somehow strikes me as hollow and queer. Have I forgotten to add cream, or do I usually take my coffee black? I push my tray away.

I'm stretched out on my bed, reading by the light of the tensor lamp clamped to the headboard, when my father opens the door, as usual without knocking first, and pokes his head into my room
.

“
Hey, hey. Anybody home
?”

I don't look up from my book. “Hi.
”

“
Mind if I come in
?”

“
Sure.
”

He perches on the edge of my bed, his weight shifting the mattress around. I sit up and cross my legs Indian-style, watching him stare around my room as if he's never seen it before
.

I clear my throat. “What's up
?”

Now he looks around as if surprised to see me. “Hey, what are you doing home on a Saturday night?” Jovially he taps my knee. “Why aren't you out bowling with the gang
?”

“
Bowling.” I feel a tremendous scowl coming on and deliberately I will my face to remain blank. My knee twitches and I look down at the bedspread
.

“
What're you reading?” He takes my book and peers at the cover
. “David Copperfield.
What is this, some kind of smut?” He chuckles and hands it back to me, losing my place as he does so
.

“
I'm kind of busy, Dad. What's up
?”

His face is suddenly serious. “Your mother,” he begins
.

“
What about her
?”

“
Well, she's mentioned to me that you've been acting a little snappish towards her lately.
”

“
Snappish
?”

He's staring around my room again. “She says you jumped all over her when she asked that you wear a little less eye makeup.
”

“
What difference does it make how much eye makeup I wear
?”

“
A young lady your age
—”

“
For years she bitched at me for wearing hiking boots and sweatpants.” I close
David Copperfield
and cross my arms, holding it close to my chest. “Shouldn't she be happy that I'm wearing makeup
?”

“
I think she feels that—
”

“
And before that she told me to stop reading Taylor Caldwell books.
”

“
Remember the time she caught you reading
Valley of the Dolls?”
He chuckles. “Now that was a scene, wasn't it? You were what, fourteen
?”

“
Twelve.” I force myself not to glare
.

“
And the day after that you
—”
He stops, looking embarrassed
.

“
Got my period for the first time,” I say coolly. “Weird timing, wasn't it
?”

“
Mmm.” He studies the ceiling for a while, his face reddening under the bronze of his skin. Then he clears his throat. “Heard from any colleges yet
?”

“
Mmm.
”

“
Is that a yes or a no
?”

“
Yep.
”

“
Well
?”

This time I can't stop my lip from curling. “Yale, Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, and Stanford.
”

“
What'd they say
?”

“
Yep.
”

“
They said yes
?”

“
Mmm.
”

“
Is that a yes
?”

“
Yep.
”

“
When did you find this out?” There's a hurt edge to his voice
.

“
Last week when you were up in Spokane.
”

“
Why didn't your mother tell me
?”

“
Ask her.
”

“
Mmm.” He clears his throat again. “What about financial aid
?”

“
What about it
?”

“
They give you any
?”

“
Yep.
”

“
How much
?”

I bend my head, examining my nail polish for chips. “Full scholarships.” My breath wheezes a little in my throat
.

“
That's great, honey.
”

“
Yeah.” I peel a ragged pink strip from my thumbnail. “Looks like you'll still be able to build that swimming pool in the backyard.”

“
Well, the most important thing is that you got in.
”

“
Yep.” My chest is starting to feel like there's an enormous claw tightening around it. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about
?”

“
No, not really.” He stands up. “I'll tell your mother we got it all straightened out.
”

“
Yep.
”

He hitches at the creases in his trousers. “Lighten up on the mascara a little, honey, okay
?”

“
Yep.
”

After he leaves I get up and close the door and lean against it, a hand on my sternum
. Asthma,
I tell myself
. It's just my asthma acting up again.
Then I start looking around for my inhaler, wondering where the hell I left it after the last time
.

“Earth to Miranda.”

“Huh?” I look up from the table.

“Beam me up, Scotty.” Teddy Anson pulls out a chair opposite me and sits down, grinning prodigiously. One of his arms is in a sling. “Hey, you little space cadet. What's the weather like out there on Mars?”

“What happened to your arm?”

Teddy's grin actually broadens. “I fell down a flight of stairs.”

“What?”

“Right in the middle of ‘Delta Dawn,' too.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“I know, I know.” He shakes his head, his eyes twinkling. “I just can't control myself around Helen Reddy.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you holding on to the edge of the table like that?”

I relax my grip. “Teddy, are you okay?”

“You bet.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I. Luckily it only hurts when I laugh.” He flaps his bandaged elbow at my tray. “Is this yours? I'm starving.”