The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett - 28

Snack. Now that is a word that tastes as good as it sounds. Mealtime is about the only way I measure the days around here. It starts with a juiced orange with Tom in the morning, then a hot breakfast cooked by Willy May, a cold lunch in the icebox, that dab of a snack to get you by, and finally a supper that will dazzle the mind.

We are in the kitchen having breakfast when Lucille announces she is going shopping . If the word was on a page, it would have a line drawed under it.

That’s a swell idea , Tom says. Why don’t we all drive to town together?

I’m not going to those claptraps down the road , Lucille tells him. I’m driving to Memphis and checking myself in at the Peabody Hotel.

Tom follows her up the stairs. I wait so they don’t notice me slip up to the hall to listen. I like to know what is going on around here.

Now sometimes, Lucille is very sweet to Tom and lets him nuzzle all up on her neck. They kiss on each other’s mouths on the sofa when they think I am not looking. I have not been around that type thing, I do not mind it. But who knew a husband and wife could mash and kiss one minute and fight like damn cats and dogs the next. From what I can find, there is not a manual for how married people are supposed to operate. And in no book I have ever read does the wife call the husband a goddamn mama’s boy, when all he was trying to do was address her drinking.

Lucille, I want to address the drinking , he will say.

Most times when he says this, she tries to skip over to how she ought to be out shopping for shoes with somebody named Bergdorf Goodman. Or how she is more apt to come across a cure for polio than a Chesterfield cigarette in this town.

But if he keeps at her, she will say, Fine. Address it.

I want you to stop bringing so much liquor into the house , darling , he says. Mama’s already suspicious, she has Willy May searching the cabinets. That is all we need is for her to find something when we’re trying to regain her trust—

NO. That is Lucille’s answer when it comes to addressing the drinking. N. O. End of story, type it up and send it to Scribner’s. Call it The Book of NO by Mrs. Lucille Heidelberg.

I will say, Lucille knows how to run a argument.

When I asked her could I go play with some of the cousins tomorrow—

NO. Before Tom could even get a word in, N. O. She was afraid I’d let it slip that I came from Oxford, from that disgusting place they call a orphanage.

But Marybeth said being first cousins is important. I may have whined this.

Lucille raised a eyebrow up at me and said, You’re lucky to be here. You need to count your blessings, young lady.

Why in the hell is everybody always telling me that?

This morning’s big discussion, though, is Lucille going to Memphis and why we can’t come.

Because I don’t want a husband and a little girl following me around all day. I’m entitled to my share. Don’t forget how you spent yours.

I don’t know what that last part means, but I hear Willy May come in. I always try to catch her before Tom shoos her off so he does not add to what he calls the repression and subjugation . Besides her visits, it does get very quiet around here.

I climb up on a tall stool and watch her cook me bacon and a sunny-side-up egg. Most the questions are generally asked by me. What I have managed to get out of Willy May so far is that she is sixty years old, her seven children are growed and gone, her limp is because of something called a corn on her toe, and No, baby, you not allowed to see it.

Go on and eat you eggs, Willy May running late today.

After I finish, I go watch her sweep under the dining room table. I could help you clean that , I tell her. I promise I won’t let them fire you and use me for free.

Lemme fish sweeping, baby. Running late today.

She polishes the table in long arcs with her arm and then moves to the front parlor. I sit on the vegetable sofa just to be in the same room with somebody. Willy May wipes down all the nooks and crannies, the red vase decorated with Oriental people with large eyeballs on their faces. The fingerprints on there are mostly mine.

I used to know another colored Negro lady named Ophelia , I tell her. Did you ever know you a Ophelia?

No, don’t know no Ophelia, baby.

Well. She is dead.

Willy May stops wiping and puts a hand on her hip. Maybe she has had it up to here with my questions.

Why you don’t ever play with them other cousins? They playing together most ever day. Girl your age needs other chirrin to play with.

What can I say? I cannot tell her why Lucille won’t let me. Even if I am Good with the big G at lying, I slip up once and that is it for ole Nutmeg. Back to where I damn started.

They all going swimming to the lake this afternoon. Why you don’t go with ’em? she says.

Will you ask if I could go—

But here comes Tom carrying suitcases down the stairs with Lucille behind him. Tom says, Thank you, Willy May, we’ll take it from here.

Willy May eyes Lucille in the red dress with the shoes and hat to match and all those suitcases. See now, that is bound to be more clothes than one person needs. Tom has his shoes on too, not just his sock feet, like he might be going somewhere with her.

Want me to get up in your room and clean? It’s been a while , Willy May says.

We’ll tend to it, thank you , Tom says . You can go on back to the big house.

Willy May goes on while I watch all those blue suitcases get set on the back seat of the car. The air in my chest stops while Tom and Lucille stand in the gravel, discussing it. It’s not until she drives away and Tom is still here that I am able to breathe regular again.

I don’t feel like going back to work just yet , Tom says. Want to take a walk around the place a minute?

It has gone hot enough again to fry you a egg, so Tom puts floppy straw hats on both our heads. The Heidelbergs don’t grow anything here except flowers and grass and rocks and some anthills. Tom said they used to grow cotton out yonder before the whole world went to pot.

In the backyard, a ways from the house, Tom points to some bricks half buried in the ground and says, This was the old kitchen before it burned up with the cook still in it. I imagine a person roasting like a hot potato, when they were just trying to cook some damn supper. Then he points to the dark woods along the back, where he says is a field with the slaves buried in it. Then yonder to a graveyard in the far corner of the yard where his dead relatives are buried in it.

You got more dead people here than you got living , I say.

That’s right, Meg. Anywhere you step in this world could be on the remains of someone who lived before you. Well I never thought of that. And I don’t think I will forget it either.

We walk toward the woods that run behind the yard. I have heard wild dogs out there barking and chasing a thing at night. But with Tom I am not scared. The little family cemetery sits on the edge of these woods, in the furtherest right corner of the yard. It has a old iron fence around it, but that gate shrieked too scary one time when I tried to open it. Tom points to a tall, crumbling stone in the middle.

That’s Benjamin Holt Heidelberg’s grave there. His grandson started the family business, the Heidelberg Sugarcane Factory. Sugarcane’s the plant that sugar comes from.

I push my hat back so Tom can see my eyes. And you are just now sharing this important fact with me? That your family GROWS sugar? Next thing you know, he will tell me he owns a candy store.

He nods. Shipping, cotton, and sugarcane. A hundred and fifty years of exploiting human beings. You might as well know that since you’re a part of this family now.

I do my best to look sad about all the sugar and money his family is making.

We walk and talk a little more about trees and rocks. Then we stop at the old water pump and pump ourselves a drink. When I pump too hard, I accidentally squirt some on his shirtfront.

You turkey , he says, smiling.

Sorry, Tom.

It’s getting pretty hot, might be time to go in.

I don’t want him to go back in his office and shut the door, so I say, I bet it’s nice and cool down at the lake.

So you’ve heard about the lake, have you? He is still grinning.

Yes sir. Do you think we could go? I do not mention those cousins and hope he doesn’t guess it.

Do you know how to swim?

No sir. But. You could teach me.

He looks over at his office window. I can tell he wants to go in there and get to work. We’d need to find you a swimming suit of some kind …

I smile and say, I already got one.

I get it on quick before Tom can change his mind, the pink suit and rubber sucking cap, my white sandals. The only swimming this suit has seen is in the bathtub. When I meet Tom on the front porch, he is wearing a long brown robe. I keep myself from laughing at his skinny white legs sticking out the bottom.

He says it’s only about a twenty-minute walk, just on the other side of those trees. The temperature turns cooler in the woods and our feet make no sound on the soft shaded pine needles. He points out the clearing for the dead slaves. I don’t hold his hand, but I stay close. Then we cross a dirt road and a few more minutes and we come to a big hill. At the bottom is a green, shining lake. It is big enough to where you can’t see all the sides at once. A long wooden thing runs out into the water, I forget what it is called, and it has a little wood house built on the side.

Looks like some folks are out here swimming already , Tom says.

I act pleasantly surprised by this. They are too far out in the water to recognize. We also see two ladies in the shade enjoying themselves, and a few feet behind them is a colored woman in a white uniform, not enjoying herself. She is fanning her face to beat the band. It is hot out.

At the bottom of the hill, Tom sets the towels down and unrobes himself. Soon as I see his skinny, pale self in a red-and-white swim costume with straps over the shoulders, I laugh so hard I got to roll on the ground a minute. I know I got some nerve.

He sets his hands up on his hips, grinning, and says, Alright, that’s enough, you turkey.

I have never seen a man in a swim costume before, so I try not to look at all his parts. Tom tells me to keep my shoes on, walking on the dock it is called, because there are some terrific splinters .

The sun is bright hot as we walk on the old gray boards. It smells swampy and green. I can tell now that out in the water are one boy and three girls, and one of those I believe is Marybeth! She is pudgy so I know it is her and I wave and smile and wave and smile until she waves back. They are all watching me while I stare down into the green lake at the end of the dock.

Tom takes his glasses off and climbs down a metal ladder into the water. He holds his arms up to me to come on. That water looks deep, and there could be slippery biting things down there. I might change my mind …

Climb down and I’ll get you, I promise.

You promise you’ll get me?

I promise.

I take the ladder slow, first a foot, then my rear dipping into the cool water. It feels nice, but it looks very scary underneath that dock. Tom tucks his hands up in my armpits, but I will not be letting go of this ladder.

Let go when you’re ready, Meg. You ready to let go?

I take some breaths first. Then I peel one finger off the metal at a time and let go, and Tom says, Now I want you to dog paddle. Kick your legs now, kick and kick, I got you. I do as I am told, I kick and he is kicking and holding me away so I don’t kick him. I kick and I am getting the hang of it and then a thing slithers past my foot! I squirm and slip out of his hands and down I go, water goes up my nose. This is wrong! I open my eyes and I cannot breathe. All I see is green and brown mold like up on the ceiling, Tom, I cannot breathe—

Tom jerks me up quick and I cough and it burns! Green water shoots out my nose and he pulls me back over to the ladder. I clutch it hard, shaking and coughing until it hurts.

You’re alright, Meg, you just slipped out of my hands. I should’ve held you tighter.

You got to hold me tighter, Tom!

I cry a little and look over and hope the cousins didn’t see that.

When I get my breath back, Tom says, You ready to try again, Meg?

I do not want to try again.

But he says, I want you to try again, Meg, you can do it , like he is counting on me. Remember, you’ve got to kick your legs hard, alright? If you kick hard as you can, it’ll keep your head from going under the water.

I look into his light brown eyes. His eyelashes are wet and spiky, but his eyes are kind. I don’t want to disappoint him. So I kick and kick and push the water away with my hands and do the dog paddle, and after a few minutes I look down and he is not holding me anymore! I am staying up on my own, but he keeps his hands out to catch me in case, he keeps them right out in case.

Don’t go—

I’m not going anywhere, you just keep on kicking. Now push with your arms and come towards me. You’re doing it, Meg, you’re doing it! Good job, Meg! He says this like he is actual excited. Not just a grown-up trying to have a good attitude.

We do this for a while, kick and use my arms. When I am able to relax and be confident I will not drown myself again, I look around. Marybeth and another girl are climbing out at the shore. They sit on their own towels they got spread out by the edge of the lake.

Soon, Tom says it’s time for a break. My legs feel quivery when I climb up the ladder. I smell like lake now. I like it. My wet skin feels prickly and good in the hot sun burning down on me.

Tom wraps a towel around me and looks up the hill at the two women. We should probably say hello to my sister-in-law. He does not sound excited about it.

Can I go see my cousins instead? He frowns and I know he is thinking Lucille will not like that. But Lucille is not here, is she? Do not worry, I know exactly what to do, Tom. I won’t say anything wrong.

He still looks worried but says, Alright. But you won’t go in that water without me?

No sir, I promise.

I run over to where Marybeth and the other girl are sitting on a blue-striped towel. Her belly makes her green suit round out in front, but the girl she is with is thin. I am pretty sure she is one of those older cousins that gave me the stare-down at the party. They both have dark hair and skin that browns in the sun, and they look very related. I feel how I stick out, white as I am.

Marybeth flaps her hand at me. Her nose turns up on the end like I wish mine did. Well, where in the world have you been, Meg? We hadn’t heard a peep out of you since the party. Also she has the BEST dimples.

I sit down beside Marybeth and say, Tom’s teaching me how to swim, and I think I about got the hang of it on that second try.

The older girl wrinkles her nose stinky at me. You can’t swim yet? Aren’t you eleven or something?

Marybeth makes big rolling eyes at her. Glor-i-a. Meg was a orphan in Memphis. They didn’t have a lake to swim in like we do in Byhalia.

Well maybe you ought to go back there before you drown yourself, Gloria says.

I say nothing. Ask me, this Gloria has got some Dorella to her.

Quit being such a meanie, Gloria , Marybeth says. Meg is my first cousin and your regular cousin now, so if you can’t say something nice, you ought not say nothing at all. She takes hold of my arm.

Fine. I don’t want to sit here anyway, with her polluting up the air. And she walks off.

I tuck my knees under my chin. What did I do to her? I ask.

Marybeth squeezes my hand. Don’t worry, she’s just upset about y’all taking the red house.

You mean Tom’s house?

Marybeth nods.

Why would she be mad about that?

She takes a big deep breath and says, Alright, I’ll tell you, but do not say it came from me. Gloria’s cross with you on account of Grandmama made Aunt Sarah and Uncle Doc—that’s Gloria’s mamandaddy—move out the red house so Tom and Lucille could have it when they moved back from New York City, and now Gloria has to share a room with her sister and her brother gets his own room and Aunt Sarah just about had a hissy fit over the whole thing so Gloria’s mad at you.

Grandmama is Tom’s mama? Those were a lot of names.

She’s your grandmama too, silly , she says. Why, what do you call her?

Mrs. Heidelberg.

She pats my hand. Don’t worry, she’ll ask you to call her Grandmama soon. These things take time.

I see Tom walk out on the dock by himself. He waves, and I wave back that I am fine. At the end, he points his arms forward and jumps in, sliding over the water easy as a eel.

On top of it all, Grandmama don’t trust Lucille far as she can throw her.

Why not? Though I ought to know, considering the big lie she has told everybody about me.

You mean you ain’t heard? Why they had to leave New York City?

Because Tom’s mama missed him or something?

She sighs and shakes her head like a grown woman. What I heard was, when Lucille and Tom lived in New York City, Lucille made Tom drink a lot of alcoholic whiskey and spend money like it was going out of style while they were wrecking motorcars on Fifth Avenue and feeding cash money to horses, so Grandmama ordered them to pack up and come home to dry him off good. Or it went sumpin’ like that.

I got no idea of what half that means, but I don’t want Tom to get in trouble. Well I have not seen Tom drink anything since I got here except iced tea or water. And I’m about to ask her about feeding cash to horses, when all a sudden Marybeth’s eyes go very round.

Meg , she says. My heart stops. Lord, I didn’t let something slip, did I?

Have you tasted. A lemon Chantilly dessert square before?

I get my heart started again and ask her what that is.

She runs up the hill to report this news to her mama. Her mama shakes her head and points toward home, and Marybeth stomps her foot. A minute later, Marybeth comes back with her head held high, proud as a lady toting a covered dish to the Ladies’ Lounge.

Taste this. She holds out a sticky yellow thing in one hand and has one for herself in the other. We both bite into them and oh she is right! It is lemony AND sweet, with a nice crunchy crust bottom.

My maid Rosalee makes the best lemon Chantilly dessert squares in the county, ask anybody. It’s just too bad we got to share her with those other cousins. She sighs. I keep telling Mama, we got to get more help out at the house. With Marybeth, one minute you are talking to a eleven-year-old having a fit about a dessert and the next to a grown woman apt to have a husband and three kids at home. It is something to watch.

While we eat and lick our fingers, I watch Tom swim smooth across the lake. He moves in long strokes, keeping his body flat on top of the water. After a while he stops and he is very still and then he slips down under the surface. Every bit of him, gone just like that! I hold my breath until he pops up again.

Marybeth says maybe I can come along next time they go shopping in Memphis. We could bring your friends at the orphanage some lemon Chantilly dessert squares!

All I can think of to say is, That would be something.

I wish so bad I could tell Marybeth who I was before coming here. How I used to sit at a old desk and dream of something very much like right now . I didn’t see a lake exact, but I saw somebody who would hold my hand like she did when Gloria was mean. And somebody like Tom keeping my head from going under the water.

But instead, we get to pointing and laughing at a short, wide-shaped cloud that looks a little like our grandmama. Just two regular ole first cousins living regular. Nobody needs to remind me to count my blessings, I could count to a hundred for what I have done in just the last two hours.

Up on the hill, her mama hollers, It’s time to go, honey . Marybeth runs up there, and I go to the end of the dock to meet Tom.

The next morning, I watch from my bedroom window as a black motorcar pulls up. Mr. Oney, who usually totes Willy May here in his truck wearing overalls, gets out the front seat wearing a dark suit. The gray on the sides of his hair and that flat cap make him look very distinguishable. When he opens the back door, Tom’s mama gets out.

I scramble to get some clothes on. Lord, we all might be in trouble. Somebody in my head reminds me to put a petticoat on under the dress or you’ll see me clean through. I decide that if she asks me anything about my history, I will just make some facts up. Swap out Oxford for Memphis, Miss Garnett for Mrs. Tann, and lookathere, we got us a respectable orphan from the Tennessee Children’s Home Society .

I stand on the middle stair and watch Tom bring her in. She is wearing a loose pink dress with a flowy pink thing around her neck. All that hair stacked high and stiff and black as night. She is not a tall woman, but she fills a room.

Tom looks surprised himself. Well, what a surprise, Mama. Is everything alright?

Everything’s fine, Son. You hadn’t been to the house to see us all week.

Tom says something about how he’s been very busy working. I come down a few more stairs. If there are going to be questions asked, I’d like to get the ball rolling.

There she is , she says. I hope you’re settling in alright, Meg?

Yes ma’am. I am settling in just fine here, Mrs. Heidelberg.

Good, that’s good to hear. She gives me a proper up-down. Two years and seven View Days, you know when somebody is checking the goods. Looks like you’re starting to fill out a little.

I tell her, Yes ma’am, thank you , and then I let her know, I eat enough here to feed two or three orphans from Memphis, Tennessee.

Tom gives me a look.

What she really wants to know is where Lucille has gone off to. Willy May said it looked like she was going out of town?

Tom rubs his neck and says, Lucille had to drive up to Memphis for the night.

Mrs. Heidelberg says, Hm.

To see about a sick friend of hers there , Tom adds, still rubbing.

She says, Ahh. Somebody sick sits better with her, though I cannot say if she believes it a hundred percent. I might need to give Tom one of my lying lessons after this.

Let’s visit a minute and have a little of this cake , she says. And that is when I see there is a cake plate involved here. Tom carries it over to the dining room table. It is under a glass cover, but I can see thick white icing and strawberries stuck around the rim. Well I am near dancing a jig. We do not get us a lot of desserts around here. Lucille says they make a lady fat.

Tom says, Just for a few minutes, Mama, and then I need to get back to work. Meg, could you—

Yes sir, I say. I do a allow me and pull the chair out for her next to Tom. Then I go in the kitchen and collect me the proper plates and utensils and clean cloth napkins. When I set her place, I say, Cake fork, fruit fork , so she knows I am house-trained. Then I sit across from them like regular. When Tom gives me my piece, I distribute my strawberries in jelly evenly on the top so I get one in every bite.

They talk, I eat. This strawberry cake is fluffy and the white icing has a delicious little sugar crunch to it and I am already wondering will she leave it behind for us or take the leftovers home.

My ears perk up when she asks does he plan on coming to church on Sunday. I could do without the church part, but maybe I could see Marybeth there.

Mama, you know how I feel about all that , Tom says. The indoctrination of people that doesn’t allow for questioning is just another means of oppression—

Alright, Son, alright , and she waves her hand. We don’t need to get into all that. Then she levels her eyes on him. How are you doing, Tom? Really doing?

I’m fine, Mama.

You’ll tell me? If you’re not doing alright?

I will. You and Daddy don’t need to worry. They get to watching each other. I figure she is asking about what Marybeth told me about all the trouble they got in up in New York, so I am waiting too, when all a sudden the damn telephone rings. Why does the thing only ring when you are sitting at the dinner table?

Tom goes to deal with it since I am not allowed to. Lucille told me a person has to weigh a certain number of pounds to touch it or it’ll shock the hair off my head.

Mrs. Heidelberg watches me across the table. So, Meg. What have you been doing since you’ve been here? She asks it like there is only one right answer to this test.

I try and think of what a old woman like her would want to hear. Especially since Lucille threatens to return me like bottles to the milkman and something tells me this woman is the one who actually makes the decisions. But also because I want Mrs. Heidelberg to like me, I am not sure why. Maybe because she is Tom’s mama, and she loves him so much.

It is a harder question to answer than you would expect.

Well. I have been reading and bathing and generally behaving myself around the house. She waits. Her eyes are near black and they don’t look at me, they look in me. Like she is looking for the truth. So I tell her what is truest to me and say, To be honest, I have never been in a house as nice as this one, Mrs. Heidelberg, with the towels and the toothbrush and all this food that doesn’t run out. I get a ache in my chest. I know I am lucky to be here and I count my blessings every day.

She nods, studying me. I suspect you’ve seen things in this world a lot of people here haven’t, Meg, she says. We both get quiet a minute and then Tom hangs the telephone up and he walks back in.

That was Lucille. She has to stay in Memphis a couple more days to tend to her sick friend.

Oh, what a pity , Mrs. Heidelberg says, but I don’t think she means it.

When it is time to go, Tom gets a big hug and I’m proud of you, Son. I get a nice pat on the head.

With Lucille gone, the whole house feels lighter, even when it starts to rain. I entertain myself with my clothes and shoes or I look at books in the library. I have already grown tired of those Tinkertoys. I sit on the vegetable sofa and read Huckleberry Finn a lot. It is quiet in the house with no toddlers whining or volunteer ladies blowing past so they will not attach. Only Tom clacking on a machine and the slow rain on the roof. Sometimes I think about Birdie and wonder what she is doing. Or else I think about Lucille and Tom telling Mrs. Heidelberg how I was special circumstances when they adopted me because I am so special. I know it’s not exactly a true story. But Ava taught me a long time ago a person has a choice in what she can believe: She won’t come get you because she don’t want you or she can’t come get you because she’s dead. Those are choices a person has got to make daily. I don’t see the harm in pretending for a few minutes every now and then.

When Tom comes to check on me, I say, Since it’s raining and we can’t go swimming, could I go to Marybeth’s house and play?

I can tell I have put him in the position. He adjusts his glasses. We better wait for Lucille to get home.

Talking to her will go nowhere fast.

Then he looks out at the rain and smiles and says, You’re probably right though, it doesn’t make sense to get wet in the rain before jumping in the lake, does it?

I look at him. And I run and get my suit on. We run through the drizzle, swim a little while, and run on back. The things we do here, Lord, I never would’ve imagined. And then it is time to eat again.

You’d think all we do here is fix a plate. For meals, we decide the kitchen table works just as well as the dining room. There is no rule here. Afterward, we take turns doing the washing and drying. Here is what I learned when it is your turn to wash: Sometimes you wash the spoon, sometimes the spoon washes you, so be sure and put a apron on.

Mrs. Heidelberg stops by to see us again the next few mornings. Not at the crack of dawn but at what is called a reasonable hour , which means ten. I get dressed quick and Tom gives me a look, like we are in some kind of cahoots together. When she waltzes into the place, her eyes move all around like she is spying on us. I try and imitate it later.

Once I see her nosing in the kitchen cabinets when Tom is not looking. Lucille might have her say, but this lady is the real boss. She is a no-nonsense type, like Miss Mildred, only rich and wearing a brassiere.

One of those days she comes, she brings us some pralines. They melt on the tongue, all that sugar! I always tell her something I am grateful for here. Such as, This food here is nothing like Mrs. Tann’s. Your maids know how to COOK. Counting blessings is important to a certain kind of woman.

When I see her coming for her third visit, I run to the piano and start playing “Oh Peter Go Ring Dem Bells.” I miss some notes but I play it loud like Ophelia showed me.

Well, well, Meg can play the piano , she says, and I turn and look all surprised like I did not know she was coming.

Something tells me you’re a smart cookie, Meg.

It is not something telling you, lady, it is me, so you do not return me back to that damn place. Before she leaves, I tell her, Goodbye, Mrs. Heidelberg. Thank you for stopping by.

She pat-pats my head and gives Tom a good hug. She does not say, Oh, please call me Grandmama , yet, but like Marybeth said, these things take time.

I’m proud of you, Son , she tells him.

That’s all I want, Mama. Is to make you and Daddy proud.

Soon as the clock hand ticks two, I holler, It’s time! Tom, it’s time!

I got my swimsuit on up under my clothes and am waiting to bolt out the door since the rule is wait ONE HOUR after eating or you will get a cramp and sink and die and be food for the fishes.

It is clear and hot today, and when we get to the lake, it is just us there, no cousins or aunts or maids. I would’ve liked to seen Marybeth, but Tom will do just fine. The hot metal ladder burns my hands, and I am kicking before I even hit the water. It smells green as it looks here, and when I go under, it feels nothing like pretending in the bathtub. It is more like what I suspect it feels like being borned. A blue-green wet world where everything looks thick and fuzzy and then whoosh , I come up gasping!

If I drink up a little lake it is bound to be all right, considering the fish drink it daily. Tom practices me doing the frog leg, the dog paddle, and holding my breath. And then it is swimming independent time. What I like best is to float on my back. I stare up at the blue sky and float and think, about how when Lucille is away I get Tom all to myself. I find my mind drifting to the blue swimming pool in the magazine, and then I think about that other mother. I wonder if maybe she went on to Cal-i-for-nia without me … decided she did not need a girl to weight her down anymore—

That’s too far, Meg, come back. It gets awful deep out there. Yes it does, Tom.

When we need a break, we pull ourselves up the ladder. It is a relief to unsuck that rubber swim cap off my head, and it makes a good thuck sound. We lay on our towels in a smooth spot under the loblolly pines. Just enough sun comes in to dry us off, though those little pine stickers tickle.

I ask Tom how the book writing is going since when Lucille gets back, he won’t talk about it much.

I think I’ve really turned a corner , he says and smiles. He has brought the one he likes called This Side of Paradise . Full of parties on the avenue and fur coats and folks acting awful even if they are supposed to be in love. He says it is not appropriate for a child, but back at the house, he let me look at it. I saw he had underlined things right on the page. Mrs. Olive Block from the lending library would not put up with that mess. She would tell Tom’s mama on him.

When you met Lucille, was it love at first sight? I heard of that somewhere.

Well, not exactly. He laughs. It’s a longer story than that.

Will you tell it to me?

It’s kind of grown-up. But … I can tell you a little.

I sit up. All I really want to hear about is Tom. If Lucille has got to be in the story too, well, that is just the cost of doing business. Birdie used to say that.

I was actually seeing a different girl when I met Lucille. Her name was Darcy Davenport. He props up on one arm. That old buddy of mine, Bill Davenport, the one who worked at Scribner’s, well Darcy was his sister. My parents thought it was a swell idea for us to be together because we come from similar backgrounds.

You mean she was rich too , I say.

He nods. Like I told you, Lucille was secretarying for Bill, and when I’d go up to his office to see him, Lucille and I would talk and flirt a little, but she knew I was going to be engaged to Darcy. Then one day, Lucille called me up at home and said there was something important she needed to tell me. She asked me to meet her at the Ritz that night, and to be honest, I was sort of excited to see her. Things were … getting a little too serious with Darcy. He runs his fingers along the scratchy part of his chin. So I met Lucille at the Ritz, and she was flustered and upset about, I don’t know, mixing something up at work and she was afraid she might get fired. So we had a few cocktails to let her settle down …

But they are illegal , I say.

He shrugs. If you ask Harry a certain way, he’ll serve you as many as you want. Anyway, she was upset, so we had a few drinks and then we started dancing and one thing led to another and … we kissed. He frowns. This might be a little grown-up for you.

It’s alright, Tom, you can tell me. I have seen things. I have not seen things, but I want to hear the rest of this story. Now was that a kiss on the lips or just on the cheek?

He thinks it over. Lips. Cheek. Both. He closes his eyes up at the sun coming through the pine tree. Tom does not brown, he burns pink like me. She had on this emerald-colored dress and a rose in her hair. So there we were, dancing and kissing at the Ritz … and who do you think walks in?

Fitzgerald?

He laughs. Darcy. With her brother Bill. Lucille claimed she’d been so flustered that she’d accidentally put it on Bill’s calendar that they were supposed to meet me that night at the Ritz. Darcy was furious , Bill was … just confused, and that was it. Darcy hung me out to dry, and Lucille … I suppose you could say she chased me until I couldn’t help it anymore, and I fell in love with her.

You do not have to be smart to know what happened. Lucille didn’t have anything to tell you, did she?

Nope, she made the whole thing up. He presses his lips together, smiling. I am not near impressed as he looks. My parents were awfully disappointed. They wanted me to be like my older brother, Nick. He married his college sweetheart.

What is college like? I ask him. It’s in Oxford, isn’t it?

Well, you’re talking about the University of Mississippi. I studied at a college up north called Yale.

I sit up straight. Was it hard? Was it interesting? Will I get to go?

I hope you get to go. Yale is where I really learned to read, and it’s certainly where I learned to write.

I wonder if that is the truth. Not to make him feel bad, but that sounds pretty late. Even if men are slow learners.

What I mean is, Yale is where I learned to really understand the story—short stories, essays, the novel. I learned to look at history differently, and art … I don’t think I even knew how to see colors properly before I went to college.

Lord, I want to go. I start asking him questions like how many paddles do they give for talking back, and did he get him a piece of paper to tack on the wall when he finished, like Miss Gertrude gives in fifth grade? Is it up on the wall in your office? Can I see it?

I think that’s enough for now. Come on, how about we take one more dip?

He teaches me to do what he calls a proper stroke , where you turn your head and breathe, turn and breathe— Just like that, Meg, get a rhythm, that’s it! When we have our fill of the lake, we walk through the quiet woods. I take his hand, and he whistles a tune. I remember the words from another time …

I can’t give you anything but love, baby.

That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby.

This time it doesn’t make me sad thinking of that, it makes me remember how when I was little I used to imagine my daddy was a important explorer or a war hero or a secret government spy somewhere. When all along, it was Tom.