Part 13 (1/2)

”If only I hadn't been hitting on Lacey Laurels from Spartanburg who just graduated from Spartan Community College with a major in Fas.h.i.+on Merchandizing,” said Charles.

”Oh, pu-leese,” pu-leese,” said Jade rolling her eyes, turning to stare at the freshmen and soph.o.m.ores standing in line to buy their two-dollar hot chocolates. They appeared to be afraid of her gaze, as certain diminutive mammals must tremble at the thought of a Golden Eagle. said Jade rolling her eyes, turning to stare at the freshmen and soph.o.m.ores standing in line to buy their two-dollar hot chocolates. They appeared to be afraid of her gaze, as certain diminutive mammals must tremble at the thought of a Golden Eagle.

”I'm the one who was the one who was there. there. How hard is it to notice some green polyester person floating facedown in a pool? I could have dived in and How hard is it to notice some green polyester person floating facedown in a pool? I could have dived in and saved saved the man, done one of those good deeds that more or less guarantees entry through the Pearly Gates. But the man, done one of those good deeds that more or less guarantees entry through the Pearly Gates. But no, no, now I'm going to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress. I mean, it's a possibility I never get over this. Not for years and years. And when I'm thirty I'll have to be submitted into some asylum, with the walls all green and I wander around in an unflattering nightgown with hairy legs because they don't allow razors in case you feel the urge to tiptoe into the communal bathroom and slit your wrists.” now I'm going to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress. I mean, it's a possibility I never get over this. Not for years and years. And when I'm thirty I'll have to be submitted into some asylum, with the walls all green and I wander around in an unflattering nightgown with hairy legs because they don't allow razors in case you feel the urge to tiptoe into the communal bathroom and slit your wrists.”

That Sunday, I was relieved to find Hannah back to her old self, spiriting around the house in a red-and-white floral housedress. ”Blue!” she called cheerfully as Jade and I walked through the front door. ”Good to see you! How is everything?”

Hannah neither commented on, nor apologized for, her tipsy behavior at Hyacinth Terrace, which was fine, because I wasn't so sure she needed needed to apologize. Dad said certain people's sanity, in order to maintain a healthy equilibrium, required getting messy once in a while, what he called ”going Chekhovian.” Some people, every now and then, simply to apologize. Dad said certain people's sanity, in order to maintain a healthy equilibrium, required getting messy once in a while, what he called ”going Chekhovian.” Some people, every now and then, simply had had to have One Too Many, go drifty voiced and slouch mouthed, swimming willfully around in their own sadness as if it were hot springs. ”Once a year, they say Einstein had to blow off steam by getting so inebriated on to have One Too Many, go drifty voiced and slouch mouthed, swimming willfully around in their own sadness as if it were hot springs. ”Once a year, they say Einstein had to blow off steam by getting so inebriated on hefeweizen, hefeweizen, he was known to go skinny-dipping at 3:00 A.M. in Carnegie Lake,” Dad said. ”And it's perfectly understandable. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, in his case, the unification of all s.p.a.ce and time-you can imagine it'd get quite exhausting.” he was known to go skinny-dipping at 3:00 A.M. in Carnegie Lake,” Dad said. ”And it's perfectly understandable. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, in his case, the unification of all s.p.a.ce and time-you can imagine it'd get quite exhausting.”

Smoke Harvey's death-any death, for that matter-was as perfectly n.o.ble a reason as any for words to stagger out of one's mouth, for eyes to take almost as much time to blink as it takes for an old man with a cane to descend stairs-especially if, afterward, you looked as epically spic and span as Hannah did. She busied herself with Milton setting the table, slipping into the kitchen to remove a shrieking kettle from the stove, swooping back into the dining room and, as she speedily folded the dinner napkins into cute geisha fans, holding a glorious smile up to her face like a gla.s.s during a wedding toast.

And yet, I must have been overly zealous in my attempt to convince myself Hannah was all Fiddle Dee Dee and La Dee Da, that our dinners would return to the weightlessness of Pre-Cottonwood, Pre-costume party days. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Hannah was trying too hard to make things chic and upbeat, and it was akin to beautifying one's cell; no matter what kind of curtains you hung, or rug you placed by your cot, it was still prison.

The Stockton Observer had published the second and final article on Smoke Harvey that day, detailing what we'd already a.s.sumed, that his death had been an accident. There'd been ”no indication of trauma to the body” and his ”blood-alcohol level had been .23, nearly three times the North Carolina legal limit of .08.” It seemed he'd inadvertently fallen into the pool, been too drunk to swim or cry for help and, in less than ten minutes, he'd drowned. Hannah had been so eager to tell us about Smoke at Hyacinth Terrace, and was in such well-adjusted spirits had published the second and final article on Smoke Harvey that day, detailing what we'd already a.s.sumed, that his death had been an accident. There'd been ”no indication of trauma to the body” and his ”blood-alcohol level had been .23, nearly three times the North Carolina legal limit of .08.” It seemed he'd inadvertently fallen into the pool, been too drunk to swim or cry for help and, in less than ten minutes, he'd drowned. Hannah had been so eager to tell us about Smoke at Hyacinth Terrace, and was in such well-adjusted spirits now, now, I don't think Nigel thought twice about bringing him up again. I don't think Nigel thought twice about bringing him up again.

”You know the number of drinks Smoke would've had to knock back to get his BAC to that level?” he asked us, tapping the end of his pencil against his chin. ”I mean, we're talking, for a man about what? Two hundred and fifty pounds? Like, ten drinks in an hour.”

”Maybe he was doing shots,” said Jade.

”I wish the article said more about the autopsy.” Hannah spun around from the coffee table, where she'd just placed the tray of oolong tea.

”For G.o.d's sake! Stop it!”

There was a long silence.

I find it difficult to sufficiently describe how strange, how disconcerting her voice was in that moment. It was neither outright angry (though anger was certainly in there somewhere) nor exasperated, neither weary nor bored, but strange strange (with the ”a” of that word drawn out in ”ayyy”). (with the ”a” of that word drawn out in ”ayyy”).

Without saying anything more, head down, her hair quickly falling over the sides of her face like a curtain when a magic trick goes wrong, she vanished into the kitchen.

We stared at each other.

Nigel shook his head, stunned. ”First she gets sloshed at Hyacinth Terrace. Now she just snaps snaps-?” ”You are a f.u.c.king a.s.shole,” said Charles through his teeth. ”Keep your voices down,” Milton said. ”Hold on, though,” Nigel went on excitedly. ”That was exactly what she did when I asked her about Valerio. Remember?”

”It's Rosebud again,” Jade said. ”Smoke Harvey's another Rosebud. Hannah has two two Rosebuds- ” ”Let's not get graphic,” said Nigel. ”Shut the f.u.c.k up,” said Charles angrily. Rosebuds- ” ”Let's not get graphic,” said Nigel. ”Shut the f.u.c.k up,” said Charles angrily. ”All ”All of you, I- ” The door thumped and Hannah emerged from the kitchen carrying a of you, I- ” The door thumped and Hannah emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of sirloin steaks.

”I'm sorry, Hannah,” Nigel said. ”I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes I get caught up in the drama of a situation and I don't think about how it sounds. How it might hurt someone. Forgive me.” His voice I thought a little hollow and bland, but he went over with rave reviews.

”It's okay,” Hannah said. And then her smile appeared, a promising little towrope for all of us to grab onto. (You wouldn't be surprised at all if she said, ”When I lose my temper, honey, you can't find it anyplace,” or ”It's the kissiest business in the world,” one hand poised in the air, holding an invisible martini.) She brushed Nigel's hair off his forehead. ”You need a haircut.”

We never mentioned Smoke Wyannoch Harvey, age 68, around her again. And thus concluded his Lazarus-like resurrection, fuelled by her boozey Hyacinth Terrace monologue, our If Onlys and Might Have Dones. Out of empathy for Hannah (who, as Jade said, ”must feel like a person who killed someone in a car accident”) we tactfully returned the Great Man-a latter-day Greek hero, I liked to imagine, an Achilles, or an Ajax prior to going mad (”Dubs lived the lives of a hundred people, all at once,” Hannah had said, baton-twirling that dessert spoon expertly in her fingers like a late-night Swingin' Door Suzie)-to that unknown place people go when they die, to silence and ever afters, to cursivy The Ends materializing out of blackand-white streets and his-and-her deliriously happy faces pressed together against a soundtrack of scratchy strings.

Rather, we returned him there for the time being.

Women in Love

'I'd like to make a minor adjustment to Leo Tolstoy's oft-quoted first sentence: ”All happy families resemble one another, but each unhappy family - is unhappy in its own way, and when it comes to the Holiday Season, happy families can abruptly become unhappy and unhappy families can, to their great alarm, be happy.” and when it comes to the Holiday Season, happy families can abruptly become unhappy and unhappy families can, to their great alarm, be happy.”

The Holiday Season was, without fail, a special time for the Van Meers.

Since I was very small, over any December dinner, during which Dad and I cooked our acclaimed spaghetti with meat sauce (J. Chase Lamberton's Political Desire Political Desire [1980] and L. L. MacCaulay's 750-page [1980] and L. L. MacCaulay's 750-page Intelligensia Intelligensia [1991] were also known to join us), Dad was fond of asking me to explain, in great detail, how my latest school was getting into the Holiday Mood. There was Mr. Pike and his Infamous Yule Log in Brimmsdale, Texas, and Santa's Secret Shoppe in the Cafeteria Featuring Twisty Rainbow Candles and Crude Jewelry Boxes in Sluder, Florida, the Forty-Eight-Hour Toymaker Village Hideously Vandalized by Spiteful Seniors in Lamego, Ohio, and one appalling recital in Boatley, Illinois, ”The Christ Child Story: A Mrs. Harding Musical.” For some reason, this subject made me as sidesplitting as Stan Laurel in a two-reel comedy for Metro in 1918. Within minutes, Dad was in st.i.tches. [1991] were also known to join us), Dad was fond of asking me to explain, in great detail, how my latest school was getting into the Holiday Mood. There was Mr. Pike and his Infamous Yule Log in Brimmsdale, Texas, and Santa's Secret Shoppe in the Cafeteria Featuring Twisty Rainbow Candles and Crude Jewelry Boxes in Sluder, Florida, the Forty-Eight-Hour Toymaker Village Hideously Vandalized by Spiteful Seniors in Lamego, Ohio, and one appalling recital in Boatley, Illinois, ”The Christ Child Story: A Mrs. Harding Musical.” For some reason, this subject made me as sidesplitting as Stan Laurel in a two-reel comedy for Metro in 1918. Within minutes, Dad was in st.i.tches.

”For the life of me,” he said between howls, ”I cannot comprehend why no producer has realized its untapped potential as a horror movie, Nightmare of the American Christmas Nightmare of the American Christmas and such. There's even enormous commercial promise for a number of sequels and television spin-offs. and such. There's even enormous commercial promise for a number of sequels and television spin-offs. St. Nick's Resurrection, Part 6: The Final Nativity. St. Nick's Resurrection, Part 6: The Final Nativity. Or perhaps, Or perhaps, Rudolph Goes to h.e.l.l Rudolph Goes to h.e.l.l with a certain ominous tagline, with a certain ominous tagline, 'Dont 'Dont Be Home for Christmas.' ” Be Home for Christmas.' ”

”Dad, it's a time of good cheer.” cheer.”

”So I am thus inspired to good cheerfully inject fuel into the U.S. economy by purchasing things I don't need and can't afford -most of which will have funny little plastic parts that suddenly snap off, rendering it inoperative within weeks-thereby digging myself a debt of elephantine proportions, causing me extreme anxiety and sleepless nights yet, more importantly, arousing a s.e.xy economic growth period, hoisting up droopy interest rates, breeding jobs, the bulk of which are inessential and able to be executed faster, cheaper and with greater precision by a Taiwanese-manufactured central processing unit. Yes, Christabel. I know know what time it is.” what time it is.”

Ebenezer had very little criticism and no remarks at all on ”the plague of American consumerism,” ”corporate gluttons and their Botswana-sized bonuses” (not even a pa.s.sing allusion to one of his choice social theories, that of the ”Tinseled American Dream”) when I detailed how lavishly St. Gallway was celebrating the season. Every banister (even the one in Loomis, Hannah's banished building) was wrapped in boughs of pine, thick and bristly as a lumberjack's mustache. Ma.s.sive wreaths had been posted Reformation-style with what had to be iron spikes to the great wooden doors of Elton, Barrow and Vauxhall. There was a Goliath Christmas tree, and, looping around the iron gates of Horatio Way, white lights blinking like demented fireflies. A bra.s.s menorah, staunch and skeletal, flickering at the end of second-floor Barrow stalwartly staved off, as best it could, Gallway's Christian proclivities (AP World History professor Mr. Carlos Sandbom was responsible for this brave line of defense). Sleigh bells the size of golf b.a.l.l.s fell around the handles of Hanover's main doors and they jingle-sighed every time a kid hurried through them, late for cla.s.s.

I believe it was the sheer force of the school's festivities that allowed me to set the uneasiness of the preceding weeks a little bit off to the side, pretend it wasn't there like a largish stack of unopened mail (which, when finally confronted at a belated date, indicated I'd have to declare bankruptcy). Besides, if Dad was to be believed, the American holidays were a time for ”coma-inspired denial” anyway, an occasion of ”pretending the working poor, widespread famine, unemployment and the AIDS crisis were simply exotic, tart little fruits that, mercifully, were out of season,” and thus I wasn't completely responsible for letting Cottonwood, the costume party, Smoke, the unusual behavior of Hannah herself be upstaged by the encroaching cloud of Finals Week, Peron's used clothing drive (the kid who brought in the most trash bags of clothes won a Brewster's Gold Ticket, ten points added onto any Final Exam; ”Hefty Cinch Sak Lawn and Leaf Bags,” she roared during Morning Announcements, ”Thirty-nine gallons!”) and, most dizzying of all, Student Council President Maxwell Stuart's pet project, the Christmas formal, which he'd rechristened ”Maxwell's Christmas Cabaret.”

Love, too, had something to do with it.

Unfortunately, little of it was my own.

The first week of December, during second period Study Hall, a freshman entered the library and approached the desk in the back where Mr. Fletcher sat working on a crossword.

”Headmaster Havermeyer needs to see you immediately,” the boy said. ”It's an emergency.”

Mr. Fletcher, visibly annoyed he'd been pried away from The X-word X-pert's Final Face-off The X-word X-pert's Final Face-off (Pullen, 2003), was led out of the library and up the hill toward Hanover. (Pullen, 2003), was led out of the library and up the hill toward Hanover.

”This is it!” shrieked Dee. ”Fletcher's wife, Linda, has finally attempted suicide because Frank would rather do a crossword than have s.e.x. s.e.x. It's her cry for help!” It's her cry for help!”

”It is,” is,” cooed Dum. cooed Dum.

A minute later, Floss Cameron-Crisp, Mario Gariazzo, Derek Pleats and a junior I didn't know the name of (though from his alert expression and soggy mouth he looked like some sort of Pavlovian response) entered the library with a CD player, a microphone with amplifier and stand, a bouquet of red roses and a trumpet case. They proceeded to set up for a rehearsal of some kind, plugging in the CD player and microphone, relocating the tables in the very front to the side wall by the Hambone Bestseller Wish List. This included relocating Sibley ”Little Nose” Hemmings.

”Maybe I don't want want to move,” Sibley said, wrinkling her perky, symmetrical nose, which, according to Dee and Dum, had been handcrafted for her face by an Atlanta plastic surgeon who'd fas.h.i.+oned a host of other high-quality facial features for some CNN anchors and an actress on to move,” Sibley said, wrinkling her perky, symmetrical nose, which, according to Dee and Dum, had been handcrafted for her face by an Atlanta plastic surgeon who'd fas.h.i.+oned a host of other high-quality facial features for some CNN anchors and an actress on Guiding Light. Guiding Light. ”Maybe ”Maybe you you should move. Who are you to tell me? Hey, don't touch that!” should move. Who are you to tell me? Hey, don't touch that!”

Floss and Mario unceremoniously picked up Sibley's desk scattered with her personal belongings-her suede purse, a copy of Pride and Prejudice Pride and Prejudice (unread), two fas.h.i.+on magazines (read)-and carried it to the wall. Derek Pleats, a member of the Jelly Roll Jazz Band (with whom I also had AP Physics), was standing off to the side with his trumpet, playing ascending and descending scales. Floss started to roll back the cruddy mustard carpet and Mario crouched over the CD player, adjusting the sound levels. (unread), two fas.h.i.+on magazines (read)-and carried it to the wall. Derek Pleats, a member of the Jelly Roll Jazz Band (with whom I also had AP Physics), was standing off to the side with his trumpet, playing ascending and descending scales. Floss started to roll back the cruddy mustard carpet and Mario crouched over the CD player, adjusting the sound levels.

”Excuse me,” said Dee, standing up, walking over to Floss, crossing her arms, ”but what exactly do you think you're doing? Is this an attempt at anarchy, to like, gain control of the school?”

”Because we'll tell you right now,” said Dum, striding over to Floss, crossing her arms next to Dee, ”it's not going to work. If you want to start a movement you'll have to plan better because Hambone's in her office and she'll summon the authoritates in no time.”

”If you want to make a strong personal statement, I suggest you save it for Morning Announcements when the whole school is all in one place and can be held captive.”

”Yep. So you can make your demandations.”

”And the administration knows you're all a force to be reckoned with.”

”So you can't be ignored.” ignored.”

Floss and Mario acknowledged neither Dee nor Dum's demandations as they secured the rolled-back rug with a few extra chairs. Derek Pleats was gently s.h.i.+ning his trumpet with a soft purple rag and the Pavlovian response, tongue out, was absorbed with checking the microphone and amplifier: ”Testing, testing, one, two, three.” Satisfied, he signaled to the others and all four of them huddled together, whispering, nodding excitedly (Derek Pleats doing fast flexing exercises with his fingers). Finally, Floss turned, picked up the bouquet and without saying a word, he handed it to me.

”Oh, my G.o.d,” said Dee.

I held the flowers dumbly in front of me as Floss spun on his heels and jogged away, disappearing around the corner in front of the library doors. ”Aren't you going to open the card?” Dee demanded. I ripped open the small, cream-colored envelope and pulled out a note.