Chapter 14
State was a huge, vast, enormous, almost overwhelming institution of learning. Thousands of students trod its campus, most of them not knowing, or even caring to know each other. While the story of Deedee's past was common knowledge to many of them, the school had the air of a busy metropolis, and Deedee sank gratefully into the welcome arms of anonymity. The talk, for the few days it lasted, never reached her ears. Then, as day followed day, with little to mark the change, Blue Harbour seemed an eon past and thousands of miles away.
She felt herself snug in the cocoon of learning without interference. She regretted, when she allowed herself to think about it, the prostitution that had placed her in this position, but she didn't for one second regret the comfortable fact of a bank account which would see her through school, provide for her daughter, and still hold a nest egg to tide them over while she looked for a good position, once her schooling was complete. Romance, love-neither of these were for her. Since the distasteful episode with Dean Rusk, she'd had no use for the male sex, and was quick to fend off the inevitable approaches from the male students at State.
She talked to the girls, when it was impossible to maintain a silence without seeming like a freak-but only then. Still, the only flaw in her new-found contentment was the lack of friendship. Maria, the best friend anyone could want, wasn't of the college group, and Deedee's innate warmness called out for the friendships which mean so much during the school years.
In a World Banking class, entailing knowledge of rates of exchange, methods and systems of banking, and the like-a rourse she'd entered with thoughts of the positions it would open to her-she struck up a speaking acquaintance with Mona Barnsdall, an attractive brunette who was a serious as well as a straight "A" student. Their tenuous friendship consisted mainly of malts at the Student Union, some rather desultory chats about classes and classwork, and very little else, for the first few weeks. One day when they met after the mutually shared class Mona went one step further. "Hey, Deedee, you don't go out much, do you? Funny, you're a real jolly Josephine."
"No. I like to ball it up and everything, but I have to spend most of my time studying. After all, I have to keep up with major-league geniuses like you."
Mona laughed. "You can knock that off. Well, anyway, what I really meant was, I'm having a little party in my pad tomorrow night. I have a real fun-type place, all my own, you know."
Deedee hadn't known, and was more than a bit surprised. "I thought you were a sorority girl."
"No indeedy. That's not for me. I don't mind carrying the burden of my own sins, but I don't need thirty or forty sinning sisters to cover up for. Anyhow, will you come?"
Deedee's instincts warned her against accepting the invitation, but the long-felt loneliness ran interference. She squeezed Mona's arm. "Sure. Sure I will, Mona. I think I'd love it. How many are going to be there?"
"Just a handful, that's all. Like, I don't dig mob scenes, you know? And I don't pick up on a lot of booze. We'll have a few cans of beer, some sandwiches, my record collection, some good conversation, and that's about it."
"What about the sex bit?" Deedee hadn't realized she would say it, although the thought had been with her since Mona began.
"Absolutely no sex. It's my pad, and the guests go by my rule or they go, period! Look, Deedee, my sex life is my own business, but just to set the record straight-like it can wait until I finish school. I know most of the kids make out one way or another, but it's not for me. Nothing bothers me that bad, and I don't want to let anything start. Not yet. Besides, I'm saving everything for the right guy. God help him!" She laughed at her own words.
Deedee joined in. "I'll be there. What time? Eightish?"
"Wonderful. Wait, let me write down my address. Here." She held out a slip of notebook paper.
They touched palms, told each other "good-bye" until later.
Deedee felt almost young, almost innocent, and strangely rejuvenated.
By the next day, the combination of the forthcoming party (her first, at college) and the crisp autumn air made Deedee feel about six years old. She cut classes at noon to visit Maria and the little Maria. As she told the Mexican girl about the party, her mood shifted suddenly, and she felt the need for self-castigation. After all, how could she accept an invitation from a nice girl like Mona-a girl who would probably never know, even after marriage, half of the worldly tricks Deedee had learned the agonizingly hard way?
"You know, Maria," she spoke as she fed her daughter, "I think maybe I shouldn't go. You know how bad I've been. You told me your people would call me a puta." She still remembered the shock on Maria's face the night she'd first told her the truth about her sexual activity for money.
Maria shrugged, hardly looking up from the dress she was ironing for her namesake. "You aren't doing that any more, Diedrecita, and what you did, you did because you had to."
"But, what if Mona should hear about it? She'd be so shocked."
"So, she would be shocked. But you did it for little Maria, no? The little one should have the first thought, true? Our little pobrecito." She hung up the ruffly dress and took another dampened garment from the towel. "You have made for her the pesos. You are getting an education so that she will be proud of her mother. But you must also have some friends, Diedre. Some nice friends. That is just as important to the baby as the money and the school. True?"
Deedee made a small grimace. "It should be true, but I'm not so sure. After what I did-"
Maria shook her head fiercely. "You are a woman. You had much trouble and no man to help you. So you had to do what you could do with the only weapons you had. Verdad, you fought a good battle, a most difficult battle. The war is over though now. You must not go back to it, Diedre! You must go forward, and you can only go forward if you forget the past! This Mona ... she likes you, or she would not have invited you to her party. How do you know she had done nothing bad? You said you would go to her party. You like her, or you would not have done so. To make a new friend is a good thing, and you will be a good friend to her. You have been one to me. Because, in spite of what you might think, Diedre, you are a good girl! Now, let's not even talk it over any longer. You are going to that party, and you are going to have a good time. It is now, it is not the past. And you, Diedre Ryan, must begin to live now, not in the past."
Deedee gulped something in reply, turned and left the small apartment. She walked for long blocks smelling the fragrance of her child, a fragrance like a newly washed violet. Clean, fresh, and-as Maria had said-good.
She arrived at Mona's apartment shortly after eight. Five or six people were there, two of whom she recognized from the campus of State. Mona came over to her, speaking loudly to make herself heard above the music from the record player and the hum of conversation.
"Glad you could make it, Deedee. Sandwiches are out in the kitchen. When you get hungry, just go out and help yourself. Do' the same on the beer. It's in the refrigerator. My home is your home, so you'll have to help yourself. And don't be modest about it. Oh, do you know everyone here? Shall I introduce you around, or do you just want to wait for nature to take its course?"
"Let's wait. And go ahead with what you were doing. I won't feel the least bit neglected."
Mona patted her arm. "Go get a beer. We'll have some more talk when the rest of the gang gets here." She trotted off, happily humming to herself. Deedee felt curious eyes upon her as she crossed through the room toward the kitchen. She opened a can of beer and looked for the glasses. They were in the cupboard, but too high for her reach, so she got a kitchen stool and climbed on that. She reached for a glass, got it, and felt the stool teeter beneath her. As she struggled to regain her balance a man's voice said: "Whoops! Hold it!" Firm hands grasped her. "Thought we'd lost you there for a moment." Strong arms swung her lightly to the floor. She turned to face him, and felt her knees dissolve into nothingness. It was Pat. Pat Aniel!
His face whitened. "Deedee-oh my God, Deedee!"
"Pat!" she spoke his name as if in prayer.
They stood there silently, devouring each other with their eyes. There was so much to say, to ask. There was too much. Wordlessly, Deedee went into his arms. Wordlessly, he held her tight.
Then, "You'll never go away from me again," Pat said.
"No."
Mona walked in on the scene. "Well, I see you two have met, and really, I-" She stopped, realizing that there was a great deal more to their embrace than the obvious. "Pardon me," she added. "I came in for a beer." She took one from the refrigerator, opened it and, looking over her shoulder at the frozen tableau, went back into the living room and the party.
"We have to go somewhere and talk," Pat said.
Deedee nodded. "Yes. We'll go to my place. It's just a short walk."
Holding hands, they went through the party and out the door.
"Well," Mona spoke to their departing backs. "Well, what do you know? I've got to find out all about that. Tomorrow."
Deedee felt purged of all wrongdoing. She was safe, loved, warm and very secure in Pat's arms. She'd given herself to him without question, completely, fully, and as if their last togetherness had been but yesterday. She was protected from the slings and arrows of the world. She pulled his head tighter to her breast, felt the slight dampness of his curls. He was, somehow, like a very dear little boy. She kissed his neck, lightly, held him even closer. Pat murmured something in his exhausted sleep. The child, she thought. It was a moment of panic. Will he accept her? His baby? He must. She would make him do so. She looked down at his sleeping form, at every dear inch of his body. Pat must love his own daughter. That was that. She flipped on the bedside switch, glanced quickly at the clock, turned the light off again and, with a sigh of complete contentment, snuggled back under the covers. Smelling the man-aroma of Pat, she slept more soundly than she'd slept in years.
This morning, she drowsily told herself. This morning I'll tell him about his daughter. And I'll fix him eggs and bacon. She paused in her imaginings, tried to think exactly what she had in the refrigerator. Canteloupe. Bacon. Eggs. Ah, I'll take care of my man when he wakes up, she thought. She drifted off to sleep, her nose tucked in somewhere between his shoulder blades. Pat snored. She held him so closely, hands touching his chest, his belly. So dear. So sweet. So good.
She cried out just once in her sleep. "My man!" No one heard her.