Unlovely (20 page)

Claudia rolled her eyes at her own
idiocy. What did it matter? She'd never planned to have a relationship with the
guy. He wasn't exactly her dream date, after all. And he was off to Moscow for
several months, across the vast, deep ocean. Who knew if he'd ever think of her
again once he got on that plane?

He would be back, though. And then what?

Tony drove down the next afternoon to transport his
daughter home for the holidays. Although she'd been back to
Mapleville
in November to spend Thanksgiving with her family, she'd been so preoccupied
with term papers and assignments that her parents hadn't found it a
satisfactory visit. This time Claudia would be home for three weeks, providing
plenty of time for family togetherness.

Sylvia and Tony had been living at 410
Smith Street for the past few months without the distraction of an adolescent
daughter. For some time Sylvia had dreaded the day her daughter would move out,
afraid that once she was gone Tony would consider leaving as well, but it
hadn't turned out that way. There had been some tense discussions and a few
arguments, but no talk of divorce. The fact was that Tony and Sylvia had
achieved a level of comfort after all those years together which neither was
eager to abandon. Once they finally articulated that fact and banished the
specter of divorce, the couple became easier with one another and the mood in
the house more congenial. Claudia returned to a more contented home than she
had lived in for several years.

One evening a couple of days before
Christmas, Claudia carried her dinner plate and glass from the dining room into
the kitchen to put them in the sink. She'd expected to find her mother
preparing to wash up, but instead she'd found her sitting at the small table, a
hopeful expression on her face. The table had been set with cups, saucers,
spoons, sugar bowl and creamer.

The moment Claudia saw the
Corningware
teapot resting on its matching trivet, she
sighed. She was tired after a day of shopping for presents at an overcrowded
mall and really was in no mood for an inquisition. Her mother looked so eager,
though, that she couldn't help but sit down and humor her.

Sylvia poured the tea, leaped away to
retrieve a tray loaded with some of the prettiest cookies she'd baked that
season, then sat down to begin her loving interrogation. She asked Claudia
about her coursework, the girls in the dormitory, the sororities,
the
clubs – virtually everything she could think of
associated with life at college, before she worked her way around to the
subject she cared about most desperately.

"So, have you met anybody
special?" she finally worked up the nerve to ask, avoiding her daughter's
eyes and nonchalantly topping off the tea in her own cup.

"I've met lots of special people,
Mom. We're all special. Each and every one of us." Claudia knew she was
being difficult. Still, it was amusing to make her mom work a little bit.

Sylvia pursed her lips. "You know
what I mean."

Claudia paused to chew a cookie before
answering, knowing that the information she was about to share would throw her
mother into a tizzy.

"Well, I guess you could say I was
seeing someone." Claudia watched Sylvia's pupils dilate and rushed to make
a qualification, "But don't get all excited. It was no big deal. Anyway,
he's gone."

Sylvia had already lit up like a
Christmas tree after the words "seeing someone." She wasn't about to
be dimmed by any
buts
.

"You're dating? Oh, this is
exciting! What's his name? Is he in your classes with you?"

"No, Mom. We weren't dating like
you're thinking. We were just kind of seeing each other for a while. It isn't
serious, and he's gone. Really gone. He's going to Moscow right after
Christmas."

"Oh." The lights went out.
"Moscow. That is gone, isn't it?"

"Don't look so disappointed. It
wasn't like I was hoping to get married."

Sylvia struggled not to appear
crestfallen. "Well, tell me about him anyway."

Claudia engaged in a brief internal
debate. She'd long maintained a policy to remain mum about her personal life.
Perhaps, though, this instance merited a suspension of the rule. It would be
nice to have some sort of relationship, however tenuously romantic, to discuss
with her mother. Claudia hadn't bought her a very good Christmas present. This
might make up for it a little.

"His name is Mark, and he's a grad
student in the Russian department. I met him through one of the instructors in
my language lab. He's nice."

"Is he smart like you are?"

"He's smart."

"Where's he from?"

"I don't really know. I think from
around Greenville, or Greensburg. Something like that."

"How can you not know?"

"I just don't. Sorry."

Sylvia searched her brain for something
to ask Claudia that might elicit a longer answer. Conversations with her
daughter could be so frustratingly difficult.

"So, what kind of things did you two
do? There must be all sorts of places to go in a college town."

"We went out for coffee and saw a
movie."

"Oh! What movie?"

"You wouldn't know it. It was in
German."

"Hmm."

Claudia looked at her mother sitting
there at the dinner table, could sense the wheels whirring in her brain, and
felt sorry for her. Oh, what the hell.

"He kissed me, Mom."

That did it. The lights blazed forth.

"He did?" Sylvia trilled,
almost giddy that her daughter not only had been kissed, but also that she
shared the event with her. This is what mothers and daughters do: they share
confidences. This was what it was all about.

"Yes, right before he left."
She looked at her mother's shining face, and decided to make her evening.
"It was very romantic."

"Oh, Claudia!" Sylvia beamed,
imagining wedding bells and grandbabies in charming knit ensembles. Not wanting
to lose the conversational momentum, however, she didn't allow herself too long
a reverie. Her expression changed to one of tender sympathy.

"You poor thing. You must be upset
that he's going away. How long will he be gone?"

"He'll be in Moscow for at least
six months to study and do research for his dissertation. I know it's
disappointing, but it's really okay, Mom. I knew before I started seeing him
that he was going to have to leave. We just thought we would make the best of
the time we had."

Sylvia nodded. "Of course, dear.
That's a very rational, sensible way to look at things." She shook her
head regretfully. "But sometimes our hearts aren't as rational as our
brains, are they?"

"No, they aren't."

Claudia looked at her mother's face, so
eager to sympathize. "I'll be honest with you, Mom. It was harder than I
thought it would be to watch him drive away."

"It was probably even harder for
him to go," Sylvia comforted. "You get to come home to people who
love you, and then you'll be back in school where everything is familiar. He
has to deal with this loss on his own, half-way around the world."

"I don't know that he's hurting all
that much."

"I'm sure he is. Men aren't good at
showing their feelings the way we are. I know your father isn't." Sylvia's
train of thought wandered. She brought it back, "Well, at least you'll be
able to call each other."

"No, I don't think so. It's the
Soviet Union. He said he'd write, though."

"Well, there you go. It doesn't
have to be the end."

Claudia shook her head to rebuff her
mother's optimism. "Realistically speaking, it is. I'm only a freshman,
after all, and he's much further in his academic career. We have no commitment
to one another. And in case you've somehow forgotten: he's living behind the
Iron Curtain."

Sylvia searched desperately for a thread
of the dream left intact. "You know, it's
possible
Mark won't find
someone new, and you two could pick up where you left off when he gets
back."

"I'm not counting on it.
Maybe."

They sat in silence for a few moments.
Sylvia reached over to pat her daughter's hand.

"Well, you know what they
say," she offered consolingly. "Better to have loved and lost."

Claudia contained the urge to cringe. "You're
right. I'm glad I had the experience, even if it had to end too soon."

"Of course. Listen, I've been
through this sort of thing before. You need to let yourself cry and feel the
loss. Don't try to stuff it down, or it will take twice as long to get
over."

Sylvia looked across the table at her
daughter and felt an enormous wave of sympathy. There she sat, so vulnerable,
just beginning to experience the heartaches the world would offer.

"Can I give you a hug,
Claudia?"

"Sure, Mom." Claudia didn't
stand up, but offered her cheek when Sylvia bent over her chair, and patted her
mother's arms when they wrapped around her as tightly as possible.
"Thanks."

"You poor thing. Go ahead out to
the living room and watch some TV. I'll bring your cookies to you out
there."

"Thanks, Mom."

Claudia headed out to the living room
with her cup and turned on a Christmas special, some extravaganza of TV stars
singing carols. Tony heard the music from his study and came out to join her.
Sylvia brought out a fresh teapot and a big plate of cookies: chocolate chip,
church windows, rum balls, sand tarts. Then she ran back to the kitchen to
fetch her own cup and one for Tony. The three of them sat together on the
couch, in the glow of the television set and the Christmas tree, listening to
carols and chatting about nothing in particular. Sylvia thought it was one of
the nicest evenings she'd had in a long time.

Claudia watched the show distractedly,
pondering the conversation she'd had with her mother in the kitchen. She had,
perhaps, exaggerated a few points in order to please her mom, but the gist of
everything she'd said had been perfectly true.

"Yes," Claudia told herself.
"I was truthful about the important things." And hearing herself
articulate those things with her mother started her thinking she may have been
on the right track: maybe there had been something more than casual friendship
in her relations with Mark. Had she been in the midst of her first real
romantic relationship and not even realized it until it was too late? Was that
possible?

By the time eleven o'clock rolled
around, they were all ready to head to bed. Claudia went upstairs to brush her
teeth after receiving kisses from both of her parents. She was in a bittersweet
mood. She found herself missing Mark; all of a sudden she felt an actual
physical ache for him. He liked her, he had chosen her, and he was gone. She
was miserable. She was jubilant.

Christmas vacation passed uneventfully. Sylvia was
especially solicitous of her daughter, preparing all of her favorite foods and
giving her space to recover from a broken heart. Claudia returned the kindness
by picking at her meals and sighing, so both were satisfied.

Claudia and Melanie saw one another
several times during the holidays. Life at the Stephens house was still dismal:
Mr. Stephens' drinking and Mrs. Stephens' yelling were both increasing in
volume. Melanie's anxiety had resurfaced and she looked worn. On a positive
note, she was dating one guy regularly, an age-appropriate business
administration major, and her accounts of their dates made him seem to be a
decent-enough character.

For the first time, Claudia had a story
of her own to share. She related it in vivid, carefully edited detail, omitting
altogether the events that immediately followed her sexual encounter.

Melanie was delighted – and frankly
astonished – that Claudia had "found someone." She nodded knowingly
in all the right places of the narration and commiserated with her: what
terrible luck that Mark should have the opportunity to go to Moscow just then,
just when they'd found each other! She reassured Claudia that if it didn't work
out, there were many other fish in the sea, and now that she'd dipped her toes
in the water, grabbing up another one wouldn't be all that hard. Overall, she
was appropriately comforting. It was nice for Melanie to be the reassuring
voice, for once, and Claudia felt like a very good friend for having given her
the opportunity.

Claudia returned to the university for
her second semester feeling entirely different from the girl she'd been in
August. She certainly wasn't as intimidated by the women on the hall; she still
disliked most of them, and she believed that the benefit of recent life
experience had lent more credence to her sense of superiority.

In the midst of the chaos of a new semester and new
courses, Claudia found herself thinking about Mark. Every time she strolled
down a sidewalk they'd walked together she'd imagine his ghost beside her. She'd
try to remember what they'd been talking about while they walked, the tone of
his voice and the way his shoes sounded against the pavement. When she saw a
car the make or color of Mark's her breath caught. She wrote his name dozens of
times on the inside of her notebook in Cyrillic. She missed him. Did he miss
her? Did he even think of her?