Chapter 14: Freshman Trip Home

It was eight-ten pm on Wednesday, the Second of May, 1990, and we were headed to Wanda's house in West Pontiac.

"I've never been across this bridge before," Shirley said as we crossed the Pontiac River.

"Have you considered coming over to this side of the river for your masters?"

She shook her head, grinning, probably thinking the same as me; staying at the graduate school would give us three more years together instead of one.

We stopped in front of the house and I took a deep breath. Shirley reached across the center console for my hand. "Perhaps I should wait here for a few minutes. Meeting me at the same time she hears her father is dead may be too much to take."

"I'm not going to have to tell her. Her mother wants to do that... I'm only here for emotional support. I think it'll be all right if you come in."

D.B. answered the door. "D.B., this is Shirley. Shirley, meet D.B. We need to see Wanda."

D.B. stepped to the side and gave Shirley a critical stare. "Hey, Wanda, Sammy's here," she yelled in the direction of Wanda's room.

Wanda came out of her room, tears streaming down her cheeks, wearing the gray sweatshirt, black panties, red polish on her toenails and black polish on her left thumb and forefinger nails.

She came to me and pulled my cheek down to hers, burying her head against my shoulder and bawling full blast now.

Seeing this, D.B. retreated to her room and shut the door.

I knew I was late in arriving but it took a few minutes to sort out what had happened. Wanda just happened to call home and her mother, thinking that I was already there, told her that her father had been discovered at the edge of woods on the long fairway approaching the eighth green, a par five hole.

Of course Wanda didn't know all of this detail at the time. She only knew that her daddy was dead and that I had gotten to her house too late to be there for her.

We let Wanda grieve, Shirley and I taking turns holding her.

At one point I snuck into Wanda's bedroom and called home. Mr. Oldham and Suzanne already knew what had happened and although they knew it wasn't my fault, they predicted that Edith would never forgive me for not being with her daughter when she learned of her father's death.

"Have you arranged to get started early tomorrow morning?" Mr. Oldham asked.

"I haven't been able to tell her yet. She's still crying."

"My goodness, Sammy, go back to her. The poor girl must be in shambles," Suzanne said.

"She is, but its okay. Shirley is comforting her and I'll take my turn in a minute."

There was a short pause before they both spoke at once. "Who's Shirley?"

"Shirley's my... girlfriend. She's coming with us tomorrow."

"You're bringing a girl home and you didn't tell us?" Suzanne said, accusingly and I heard Mr. Oldham clear his throat. "Oh, I guess you haven't had a chance to tell us, have you, Sammy?"

"She sort of volunteered to go with me," I said.

"How old is this one?"

"SUZ!" Mr. Oldham scolded her, making me grin.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," I said and they let me go.

Eventually, when Wanda had cried herself out, she wanted to know who Shirley was.

"This is Shirley. She's my girlfriend," I said, looking over at Shirley and seeing her eyes glisten, giving her approval to be introduced that way.

"Oh," was Wanda's only comment as she climbed off of my lap, made a half-hearted attempt to wipe her tear-stained cheek and paddled off in the direction of her bedroom.

We waited ten minutes for her to return and when she didn't we went to her bedroom door and looked in.

"Hi Sammy, how do you like my fingernails?" she asked, holding both hands up for my inspection.

"They're very nice, Wanda. I see that you didn't discard the other bottles of polish after all."

She looked up at me and grinned. "No, I didn't. I'm not going to do everything you tell me any more."

"That's okay, but don't you think a lighter color would be more appropriate for your father's funeral?"

"I'm not going," she said, not looking at me, concentrating now on giving her smallest toenail an even coat of black fingernail polish, covering the red.

"You have to go to the funeral, Wanda. Your mom asked me to drive you home. We're leaving at six tomorrow morning."

"I'm not going," Wanda declared.

I felt Shirley's fist hit the center of my back, just hard enough to get my attention. "Let me see what I can do," she whispered.

Perhaps she could help. I decided to let her try.

Wanda looked up as Shirley stepped around me. "Are you really Sammy's girlfriend?"

"Yes, I am," Shirley answered.

'Oh," Wanda said, looking down at her freshly painted toenail.

"Do you have an alarm clock? We're leaving at... ," Shirley turned to me, questioning, "Six am but you need to set your clock for at least a half hour earlier. Do you need some help packing?"

Wanda looked at Shirley again. "Did Sammy tell you he shaved my pussy?"

"Yes, he told me. Do you know what you want to take with you? I'll help you pack," Shirley offered, her voice sounding controlled with only a hint of anticipation, like she was deciding which flavor ice cream to order.

"Did Sammy tell you he ate my pussy and fucked me silly?" Wanda asked.

Shirley turned to me, looking frustrated. "I'm trying Sammy, I really am but I don't know if I can do this."

"Yes, you can. She's hitting low but that's all she has. You're doing great; you can handle it."

Wanda overheard us and launched what I mistook for her final salvo. "D.B. watched us. We made her so fucking hot she almost passed out."

Frowning at me, Shirley mouthed, "You didn't tell me that."

"Sorry," I said.

"Did he tell you about sticking his finger in my pussy at the movie? We were watching To Have and Have Not and just when Lauren..."

Shirley's face twisted into an angry knot as she turned to cut Wanda off.

"LOOK! You little attention-seeking cunt, I don't care what Sammy did to you or for you. Have your shit together when we get here tomorrow morning or we'll take you out naked and throw you in the back seat because that's where you'll be riding. I'm riding in the front with Sammy."

Shirley turned, took me by the hand and led me out the front door. When we got inside the car she was shaking. I touched her cheek and she turned to me, trying to smile.

"You don't expect her to be ready at six, do you?" I asked.

"No, but it won't take long to throw her into the backseat," she answered, sounding determined, having regained control, I thought but soon discovered that I was mistaken. She was still trembling when we got to her dorm.

Our goodnight kiss went on for fifteen minutes, Shirley clinging to me as if for dear life. And when I stopped by for her at six am she was packed and ready to travel. We stopped at the diner in Pontiac to pick up coffee and muffins, making it nearly six-thirty when we got to Wanda's house in West Pontiac.

Wanda wasn't ready but it only took us thirty minutes to throw some things in a bag and load her in the backseat of my car. She begrudgingly accepted coffee and a muffin, but didn't talk for the first half of the trip.

It was just as well. Shirley was in no mood to converse with Wanda either.

"I've never seen you this way before," I said, smiling to show her I was kidding.

She blushed. "I'm not... that's not me," she said, apologetically before turning to Wanda. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you last night, Wanda. I know you were upset about hearing that your father had died suddenly. I should have been more sympathetic."

Wanda didn't say anything and Shirley gave up. She turned around, staring at the road. "I tried," she said.

We stopped at the halfway point to take a short break and have coffee. I prayed that Clara wouldn't be there. She worked the afternoon shift, didn't she? No luck.

Clara came over to the table just as Wanda was giving her lips a fresh coat of lipstick, black of course.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Her dad just died. We're on our way..."

"It's all right, Sammy. How did what go?" Wanda directed her question to Clara. Shirley looked from Wanda to Clara and then at me.

I'm sure Clara saw my eyes pleading with her to be discrete.

"How did what go?" Wanda asked again.

"I'm sorry about your father," Clara said. "I was asking how school was going. I understand you're in graduate school?"

Wanda looked at Clara and then at me. "Oh, he told you I was in grad school? I thought he might have told you about shaving my pussy."

"I'm sorry about your father," Clara said again, before tuning and walking away. I thanked her for her quick thinking when I paid the check.

"I could see that you have your hands full today," she said, smiling.

"Just giving you something to talk to your hubby about in bed tonight," I said, and heard her giggle.

Wanda made a half-hearted attempt to apologize to Shirley just before we reached her house.

"I'm sorry, Shirley. I know I'm not easy to get along with."

Shirley smiled sweetly but didn't comment.

We dropped Wanda off at the door and I drove away just as Edith Rowell came out to greet her daughter.

I could tell that Shirley was becoming nervous as we approached the Oldham home. She looked around at the large homes and shrunk down in her seat, like she knew she didn't belong here.

"When Ned brought me here in 1985, it was the middle of the night and I had fallen asleep. He practically had to carry me upstairs to my room. When I got up the next morning, it was like I was in a different world. Now, almost five years later, I still can't believe that this is my home. It's not easy to get used to, so don't even try. You'll soon find that you're welcome here."

I parked the car next to the garage and got Shirley's bag out of the trunk.

"You seem be acclimatized to the neighborhood now," she observed.

"Yes, but I tried to run away from here. Ned caught up with me and made me run all the way back home."

Shirley giggled for a second, but I could tell that she was nervous when I opened the back door. Molly met us and immediately put Shirley at ease.

"Does she always call you Mr. Sammy?" Shirley whispered as we walked up the stairs.

"Yeah, it's a habit with her."

I showed Shirley the room next to mine and then took her out on the balcony to survey the swimming pool and the lawns. "I can't believe you tried to run away from all this," she said, taking it all in like a kid in a candy store.

"Wait until you meet Mr. Oldham and Suzanne. They have this big house but they practically live in the sunroom. We'll probably have dinner in the dining room tonight but we usually eat in the kitchen or the sunroom."

"They won't go to extra trouble for me, will they? Will I be expected to dress for dinner?"

"I'll talk to Suzanne but she will probably want to put on a show. You don't need to dress for dinner though."

"Promise me that you won't leave me alone for a minute?"

I hugged her tightly. "I promise."

We sat on the high stools at the breakfast counter where Molly served soup and make-your-own sandwiches for our late lunch.

Molly caught me up on some of the neighborhood gossip and I gave Shirley an overview of the people mentioned.

"Penelope's cut way back on work," Molly said.

"When is she due?" I asked.

Molly gave me a stern look and then smiled. "I don't know for sure but she looks like she's five months along."

"It was Ned and Penelope's wedding that I came home for," I explained to Shirley and could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she classified and connected all of the information.

After lunch we walked across the street to the park.

"Is it hard to learn how to run?" she asked when she saw the running track.

"Most runners will tell you there's not much to learn. You just have to do it and pick up little tricks as you go."

"Will you teach me?"

The way she said it, tentatively imploring, gave me a warm feeling up and down my spine. I put my arm around her and drew her to me. "I would do anything for you," I said.

"For me or with me?" she snickered.

"That too," I agreed with her.

Suzanne came home from the office earlier than usual. She took one look at me and turned to Shirley.

"Are you responsible for this? Suzanne asked as she reached up to run her hand through my short hair.

Shirley smiled and Susanne said, "I like her already."

We were in the sunroom looking at the wedding photos when Mr. Oldham came home. I was glad to take a break from explaining who the people in the photos were to Shirley.

I introduced Mr. Oldham as 'my dad' and Shirley as my 'girl friend, ' making them look at each other sharing a knowing glance.

In the first ten minutes he was home, Mr. Oldham learned more about Shirley than I'd been able to in the several months we had been acquainted.

It may have been his neatly trimmed mustache or the pin-stripped tailored suit that made her submit to his questions, but Shirley informed us that her parents were killed in an automobile accident when she was eight years old and that she had been taken in by an older sister.

Mr. Oldham's compassion, though he didn't mention that his own wife and son had been killed in an automobile accident, melted Shirley's icy shell.

"My sister had a young family that required her time and devotion. I was left to my own devices. I learned at a very young age that I was responsible for my own destiny. A few people have been helpful but I learned early that it was up to me to make my own way," she said, suddenly looking embarrassed at having disclosed so much about herself.

"I hope Sammy's one of those helpful people you've met?" Mr. Oldham asked

Shirley looked at me, smiling. "Definitely, Sammy has... yes, definitely."

Mr. Oldham patted me on the head and excused himself, saying he needed to change into something more comfortable.

We had dinner in the dining room and I think Suzanne tried to put Shirley at ease. The conversation was mainly about how we had gotten to Wanda's house too late, after she had spoken to her mother. Shirley and I told how we had taken turns comforting Wanda and how she had turned on us and gone to her bedroom where we found her painting her toenails black.

I told them how Wanda had refused to come home with us and how Shirley had stepped in and taken control.

It was evident that they were both delighted with Shirley and tried their best to make her feel welcome in our home. She eventually relaxed and seemed to enjoy being there.

We were having dessert, small dishes of a chocolate concoction served with coffee, when Wanda called, wanting to speak to me. She said the funeral was scheduled for Saturday. I asked her if she would be ready to leave for school on Sunday morning.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Sammy. I'm not going back. Will you pack my things and ship them to me? You can throw the bottles of..."

"You're not returning to school? Why?"

"I'm too far behind. I haven't been attending classes lately and my advisor is mad at me."