Whatever Lola Wants (11 page)

C.C. and Terri watched hard. The flick was okay, some interesting bits as far as C.C. was concerned but Terri sorta didn't get it, kinda tried to talk about it but somehow missed it. C.C. knew Julie'd understand what he was thinking and he figured Julie'd make some boss comments about it. Though how he figured this he had no idea since he'd never been to a flick with Julie, maybe once or twice talked to her about some flick or other but that was all. From far away he heard Bobbie say, “Set the context.” Okay, C.C. would be nice to Terri, they'd watch the next flick, fifteen minutes till it started, hour and a half for the flick, in a couple of hours Charlie'd drop him at his place, drop Terri maybe, head out with Amanda. Just get through the next flick. Enjoy it.

“Hey, you guys want hot dogs?” Amanda said yes, Terri agreed. “C'mon C.C., let's go get some dogs.”

They went off between the rows of cars, hundreds of cars and station wagons and pickups. “Also,” said Charlie, “I gotta pee. So. You like her?”

“Terri? She's okay.”

“Yeah. Sorry, man.”

“I liked the flick.” He grinned at Charlie. “Whatcha think?”

“Yeah. Pretty damn good.” He laughed.

Lots of couples, whole bunch of kids from school. Past a pickup with the window closed, a quick glance and he'd have sworn he'd seen Julie, but when he looked again nobody behind the glass. After peeing they headed over to the concession stand, lined up, got their dogs, heavy on the ketchup and dripping with relish, cokes and dogs for Charlie and Amanda on a tray, a couple of dogs in hand for C.C. and Terri. Could it have been Julie? In the truck? They headed back, C.C. leading. Dogs that Gramma would have a cow over, the meat wasn't from cows. But the thought didn't make him grin.

“Hey,” said Charlie, “this way.”

C.C. plowed on, checking for the pickup he'd spotted before, a Ford. There, ahead. He stepped up to the passenger side, looked in the window. On the long front seat Julie's head, her hair a mess, a head buried in her neck, pain in her wide open eyes. C.C. switched his right hand dog into his left, grabbed the door handle— Locked! Around the hood, between the Ford and an Olds sedan, fingers around the truck handle, and he pulled it open. Four legs, two in jeans and two bare, the jeans pair in boots, one foot in a small black shoe, the other bare, little toes he knew. He grabbed one of the boots and yanked, all his weight behind the pull, and the man came sliding out, plopped on the ground. “Julie! Get out!” The furious force of a man on the ground, on one knee— Behind him C.C. might have heard Charlie, maybe not, before the guy on the ground was up, belt open, fly down. “Get out!” C.C., one dog per hand now, slammed the guy on both sides of the face with the dogs, ketchup and relish in his ears and eyes. Julie, searching for her shoe— “Julie! Go!” She slid forward along the seat, grabbed a purse, pulled the button up, reached for the handle. The guy was near to standing, relish coming out of his nose. The guy was maybe a little shorter than C.C. but a lot broader. The guy was truly pissed. The guy—Stanley, C.C. figured, howdy-doo, Stanley—Stanley came at C.C., left hand holding pants, right fist back and lunging at C.C.'s head. Except suddenly Stanley was behind C.C., having flown there over C.C.'s left shoulder, a head-bounce off the sedan's tire. Total silence till he heard Charlie whisper, “Holy shit.” A groggy Stanley pulled himself to his feet, C.C. staring at him, Stanley throwing his whole weight at C.C. but C.C. stepped to the side, foot out, C.C.'s shoulder low catching the tripping Stanley left on his chest and now Stanley slid under his Ford and lay still. Twenty seconds in all, maybe twenty-five. Charlie was holding on to Julie, terrified, in tears, breathing hard, to keep her from falling. Charlie said to C.C., “Come on, man. Let's take her home.”

C.C. reached for Julie's upper arm, touched her gently. “You okay?”

She was crying but she nodded yes.

“You want to go home?”

She nodded again.

Charlie said, “C'mon, let's get out of here.”

They supported Julie one on each side and walked her to the Chevy. Amanda and Terri were standing talking next to the car. Charlie glanced at C.C., who gestured with his head, Get in. Charlie nodded, opened the front door, said to Amanda, “You first. Then Terri.” Amanda did, Terri followed. He closed the door, walked around to the driver's side, and sat behind the wheel.

C.C. said, “You want to get yourself straightened up before going home?”

She looked at him carefully, as if studying his face. “Yes. Please.”

He opened the back door, she slid in, he followed. “Charlie, let's go to my place.”

“Sure thing, man.”

No one spoke the whole way. Charlie said he'd take Terri and Amanda home, then come back for Julie and C.C.

At the house Gramma was asleep, Bobbie out for the evening. C.C. and Julie stood in the living room. “Want to take a shower?”

“I want to explain—”

“At least put some water on your face. You'll feel better.” How did he know that? He showed her the bathroom, got her a washcloth and towel.

Ten minutes and she came back to the living room. She looked fine. A small smile on her lips. “Thank you. I left the towel and everything there.”

C.C. nodded. “Want some tea? A coke? Beer? Coffee?”

“A glass of water would be good.”

He brought her a glass of water. A beer for himself. He figured he deserved it.

She sat on the couch. He took a chair.

“I have to tell you—”

“You don't have to say—”

“I do. It was maybe—maybe my fault.”

“No way. I saw your face.”

“We watched the movie. We—made out. It didn't feel, well, it felt kind of wrong, but not like bad wrong. Like it didn't matter.”

C.C. nodded.

“And then when the movie ended, he said— He told me he'd just gotten his draft notice. On Wednesday. He—he has to report next Friday.”

Some horrible heaviness C.C. hadn't realized was there lifted from his shoulders, his arms, the back of his head. “Hunhh,” was all he could say.

“And he said, before he went, he had to—he had to have me. It was like, I didn't twig. You know? Like he just wanted to be close for a while. I didn't want to, I mean we'd been making out and it hadn't been really good but it wasn't so bad either and I figured he wanted to do it some more and he was practically shipped out so I said, ‘Okay.'”

“Jeeze, Julie.”

“I didn't know he meant what he meant, I really didn't. And he started, and I saw you walk by, and I think he saw you too. He doesn't know you but he saw me looking at you just for that second and he stopped, and said, ‘That's him, right?' and I said, ‘Who?' and he said the guy you were dancing with, and I had to say yes. So he didn't do or say anything for a while, like maybe a couple of minutes, he just stared ahead, I tried to talk to him but he didn't answer. And then he reached out his hand to me, sorta gently, and I took it, and something must've hit him 'cause that's when it all started, all of a sudden he was undoing his pants and making me reach for him and—” Her head shook. “He wasn't being mean or anything but even when I told him no, no, don't, it was like he couldn't hear me, he was on top of me, heavy, and I couldn't do anything—”

Her head seemed to shake all on its own. He stared at her face, her small pretty face, hair combed back now, a ponytail, no makeup far as he could tell. He stared at the ground. “You were able to look scared. That was plenty.”

“Yeah.”

“You scared me.”

She squinted at him, as if trying to see his face. “C.C.—you sure didn't seem scared. You were amazing.”

He shook his head. He sipped his beer.

The front door opened. Bobbie came in. “Julie Robertson, Bobbie Feyerlicht.” A little instant laughter between the women. C.C. suddenly saw Bobbie through Julie's eyes, a strong woman of middle height in a black turtleneck, black miniskirt, good legs, black lace-ups, black hair cut short, a face that allowed no nonsense. Was Bobbie attractive to men? He figured Julie would think so. He guessed a woman could still be attractive at thirty-two.

Charlie came back, he took Julie home, C.C. along for the ride. A gentle kiss at the door. Next weekend they would do something together. She had to talk to Stanley this week.

But during the week Stanley didn't want to talk to Julie, and Friday he was gone.

Julie and C.C. dated quietly for a couple of months, they got to know each other. They gave up their virginity to each other on New Year's Eve. For the next year and a half they were inseparable. Each made the other a stronger person, a finer person. Then graduation, almost invisible when they met, suddenly loomed as the moment of divide. C.C. had been lured to Columbia College and the big city. He made Julie apply to Barnard where she didn't want to go, not really. Her choice was Middlebury, small town, the hills of Vermont. He couldn't see himself being at college in the middle of all that snow, those trees; Median was small enough. But he said he'd apply. And then he didn't. Columbia wanted C.C., Barnard College didn't have a place for Julie. He told her Middlebury had turned him down, a lie it hurt to speak.

The day before the evening of their graduation dance, Bobbie insisted C.C. bring Julie by the house. C.C. filling his dinner jacket in the chest and upper arms, Julie in her off-one-shoulder long white gown transformed from pretty girl to gorgeous young woman, they were lovely together. Once again Bobbie was moved by them, knowing they'd soon leave each other behind.

It wasn't so bad, they figured. They'd have the summer, then despite being miles apart there'd be long weekends in New York and Vermont together in October and November, and Thanksgiving in Median, soon it'd be Christmas vacation. And they'd always have the telephone, and mail. Their love was too great to let mere distance keep them apart.

September was filled with letters and phone calls. Fewer letters in October and she couldn't come to New York for the long weekend, a major exam the following Wednesday and she had to study. He insisted on driving up to Middlebury at the beginning of November, she begging him not to, they'd see each other soon, Thanksgiving was just a couple of weeks away. He agreed, but agonized. Had she fallen out of love with him? Worse, had she met someone else? How could she have? They knew they loved each other.

Over Thanksgiving she told him yes, she was dating Gary, a nice guy.

“But why? We know we love each other, don't we?”

“I loved you, I really did,” she told him.

“Then why? Why? Why? Don't you want to be together, like we'd planned?”

“Listen to me, C.C. I wanted to be together, you didn't. Right?”

“Julie? Of course I do, how can you—?”

“You didn't want to be with me, C.C.”

“How can you say that?”

“We could've been together at Middlebury.”

“Julie, we couldn't, they didn't accept me—”

“You didn't give them the chance, did you? Did you?”

“Oh god, Julie—”

Julie had wondered why they had turned him down. If he was accepted at Columbia with their standards, surely he could get into Middlebury. She had to find out. In October she drew up her courage and went to the Admissions Office. No, the student in question had never applied. “You didn't want to be with me, C.C. Deep down you didn't want that.”

He argued, he ached from loving her, nothing had changed, he'd transfer.

“Too late, C.C.”

•

Lola stared down over the edge, silent for a while. She shook her head. “Kinda sad.”

I glanced at her. She'd spoken the words with inflections pretty close to what I'd heard in Julie's voice.

“But he really loved her.”

I shrugged.

“Is that how the young were, in the sixties?”

“Lots of freedom. Of all sorts. But I don't really know, not first-hand. I wasn't around, remember? I died years earlier.”

“I wonder what I was like at their age …”

“You must have been very beautiful.”

“Not what I mean. Did they get back together?”

“I don't know yet.”

“How can you just break off like that—”

“Lola. You need to know about other things that were happening.”

“Exciting stuff?”

“You'll see.”

•

2. (1968)

The bond between Johnnie's mother
and father had been a feeble thing for years. Even when he was a child the lack of respect they showed each other had hurt him hard. He remembered a morning, a breakfast table, his father staring at his cup. “The coffee's cold.”

“You want me to warm it up?” She reached for it—

“Leave it!” He pulled it toward him, too quickly, and coffee splashed onto his trousers. “Damn it, Beth, you're impossible.”

Johnnie thought, He spilled that coffee, not she. And a good thing it wasn't hot anymore.

She brought his father a towel.

“No no no, I have to get these pants off. I don't know what it is with you, too damn smart for your own good, can't even serve me hot coffee.”

“I think— It was hot when I brought it.”

“You think. Like in your lab? Those idiot experiments? God, Beth.” He left the room.

What, Johnnie wondered, did his mother's lab have to do with the coffee?

A very few
years more and she stopped responding to his father. Johnnie remembered another morning, he sitting on a stair, reading before school. His mother, bulging briefcase in hand, about to leave the house. His father, stopping her at the door, “You're not driving.”

She pushed him away. He caught her by the arm.

“Beth, you will not drive that car. Not in your condition.”

“What condition? What goddamn condition!”