Alma Mater (12 page)

"It's not easy for anyone." R. J. smiled, wishing she could take a
handkerchief and wipe some of the makeup off Hojo's face.

Bunny reappeared. "Let's rumble."

As if on cue a
boom,
boom, boom
of thunder crashed, like the bumps of a moving caterpillar, one vibration following the other.

"Now, where did that come from?" Hojo ran to the door going
outside.

The eastern sky, clear and blue, contrasted sharply to the western
sky, dark blue-black with rolling clouds.

Bunny and R. J. walked outside to Bunny's car. "Oh, boy—we'll make it home just in time."

The rain was already pouring over Williamsburg, washing down clap
board houses in the historic center, sweeping the dust off the great
wrought-iron gates to the House of Burgesses, drenching the cadmium-
yellow and red marigolds, the mums of all colors, the tall zinnias.

Mary, Blessed Virgin Mother, appeared to be crying as the rain
poured down her serene visage. Vic and Chris stood on the brick walkway, the lawn already soaked. They'd met after their last class of the day.

Chris, the rain sliding down her neck and along her back, was
laughing. "Your tour of Williamsburg is original. You make these old
buildings come to life."

"History is important. For instance, this statue of Mary will grant your
wish if you make it during a thunderstorm." Vic grabbed Chris's hand, pulling her to the front door of St. Bede's, which was sheltered by an
overhang.

A crack of thunder followed by pink light appeared. On the street
they could hear the screams and laughter of folks running for their cars, for any doorway.

"That was close." Chris blinked, pressing next to Vic.

Vic put her arm around Chris's slick wet shoulders, drawing her next
to her. She hunched over a bit. "The next one ought to be right above
us." She released Chris for a second and tried the front door. It opened.
They stepped, dripping, into the vestibule as a blinding bolt of lightning hit the lightning rod on the building next to the small well-kept lawn.

The temperature was dropping. They shivered together, the votive

lights in small red chancels providing the only light as the power cut
off. No one else was in the church.

"We're dripping all over the floor," Chris said, the water collecting
in pools at her feet.

Another crack and they jumped closer together, laughing. "Glad
the door was open." Vic put her arm around Chris again.

"Me, too."

"The sky was clear one minute and then the wind picked up." Vic
loved watching the storms over the James. "Have you ever noticed
how many different kinds of rain there are?"

"Hard rains, soft rains."

"There are rains with drops that fall here and there, big drops
like wet polka dots. Then there are rains when the water falls like a
beaded curtain, steady and silver. Sometimes rain falls soft, then hard, then soft again, as though it has an accelerator. I love watching it. I've
seen rain come down sideways. Forty-five degrees to the ground. It's
wild."

"I love the sound it makes."

"Especially on a tin roof."

The thunder rolled, still close but moving down toward the river.
"I don't know if I've ever heard that," Chris said.

"Sometime you'll be at the farm and a storm will come up. I'll take you to the tobacco shed. Sounds like BBs, or if the rain's hard, bullets,
but you're standing on that hard-packed earth and all the curing smells rise up. God, it smells wonderful."

"I don't know if I would recognize a tobacco plant if I saw one."

Vic, who loved growing things, replied, "They're pretty amazing.
They get big." A strong wind rattled the heavy door. Chris pressed her
body into Vic's. "Are you frightened of storms?"

Chris said, "No . . . well sometimes." She looked up at Vic, holding
her gaze. Chris's heart pounded as she shivered.

Vic fought back the impulse to kiss her. Instead she wrapped her
other arm around her. "Once the lightning is gone we can run to the
car. I wish I had some extra clothes in it."

"Take me to the coolest store. I'll buy us shorts and sweaters."
"You don't have to buy me anything."

"Hey, I spent a weekend at your house. Your mother stuffed me
with food. The least I can do is buy you a sweater and a pair of
Bermuda shorts before we both catch our death of cold."

"Does that mean we get naked?" Vic teased.

"Briefly." Chris stood on her toes, in anticipation of making a run for it. "Let's go." She wanted to stand in the vestibule, she wanted to
strip right there and then wrap her arms around Vic's long body. She
suspected the Catholic Church would not approve.

Chris opened the door. The rain, steady but not slashing, had
filled the gutters, which spilled out everywhere.

They bolted for the Impala.

Vic pulled away from the curb, water tumbling along it. Leaves
and small branches were scattered everywhere. "I'm glad St. Bede's
door was open."

"Me, too." Chris pointed out an uprooted tree. "You know, we
should have lit a candle for luck."

"I believe we make our own luck."

_A

soggy pile of clothes dampened the floor. Vic dried off in one
changing booth, Chris in the other, separated by high partitions.
The clerk, another student, gave them towels.

"I am so cold." Chris giggled.

"Put your clothes on. The coral sweater will help."

Chris yanked on the sweater, stepped into the jeans, and then tip
toed barefoot to Vic's booth. She put her hand on the doorknob,
thought a minute, and returned to her booth.

"We forgot shoes. I'm not putting on those espadrilles. My feet are
already a fetching shade of navy blue."

"Shoes are expensive."

"I said I was paying for all this."

"Chris, you can't do that."

"Sure I can. I can do anything. It's not like I'm on food stamps. Are
you decent?"

"Yes."

Chris opened the door and walked out of the booth. Vic, hair
pulled back, wore a soft-green sweater and a pair of Levi's.

"Green looks fabulous on you. Come on, shoes."

Vic looked out the store window, the name
CASEY'S
emblazoned in an arc on the glass. "What we need is duck boots."

"It's raining pretty steady." They started toward the shoe department. Chris found a pair of rubber boots, bright yellow. "I'll do yellow, you do
green." She reached the stacks of socks, stuffing socks in each pair of
boots.

"Chris, this will be a lot of money."

"I told you, just let me do it." Chris carried her pile to the counter.

With a slower step, Vic did the same. She had a keen sense of what
things cost and how
,
hard it was to earn money. And much as she liked
Chris, she didn't want to owe her anything.

Chris motioned for her to move a little faster. "Here, while I do this, you can put our wet clothes in this plastic bag. You don't care if
we take an extra bag, do you?"

The clerk, a redhead with an upturned nose, said, "No_ Take two."
The door opened and tourists, bedraggled, came in. "I'll be with you in
a moment."

"Almost forgot." Chris threw in two bandannas. The clerk rang
them up and they left the store, darting from awning to awning, over
hang to overhang.

"We're going to get soaked again." Vic laughed as the rain intensified.

"Never underestimate the purchasing power of a woman." Chris
reached in her pocket, flashed her credit card, and opened the door to
a luggage store that also carried multicolored umbrellas. She bought a
green-and-yellow one.

Once outside she opened it. They squeezed under it together, tak
ing turns holding it.

"Sorry I had to park so far away. I should have dropped you off."
"This is fun. I have a lot of fun with you. In fact, I have more fun
with you than anyone I've ever met."

"Uh-huh." Vic's tone sounded playful, disbelieving.

"I do."

They reached the car.

"Damn, I forgot to buy a towel!" Chris put her hand on her waist, her
elbow sticking out in the rain. "Okay, where do we go to get towels?"
"I'll drive you—"

"No, we'll get wet."

"You didn't let me finish. You sit in the back."

"I'm not going to be seen in public with a woman who has a wet
ass. Let's put our stuff in the trunk and we can buy a towel somewhere."

That took another twenty minutes. Finally, behind the wheel, Vic
cranked the motor. She congratulated herself for putting a new white
convertible roof on the car two summers ago. Not a drop of water
worked its way inside the car.

"Where would you like to go?"

"I'm starved. Where can we go where there won't be a million people?" Chris pulled down the sun guard, reaching for the comb in
her purse. "You know everyone."

"To say hello. That's about it. Hamburgers? Barbecue? Salads? Or
fake food?"

"What?"

"Tofu, bean sprouts."

"Too bad we can't go to your house. Your mother is a fabulous
cook. I'm not as good as she is, but I can cook. But I'm too hungry to buy the stuff and make it. Let's just eat somewhere, anywhere. I prom
ise I'll cook for you soon. My mother, who could win the worry-of
the-week award, did actually teach me how to cook. This way even if
stranded on an island, I could make a fire and survive."

Although Dukes was one of the most popular places in town, the
rain kept most people at home or in the dorms. Vic and Chris shared
the place with six other people.

By the time they'd finished their fried chicken, fries, and cole
slaw, they felt that glorious glow of contentment that attends a full
stomach.

"Dessert?"

"Coffee. I'm too full for dessert," Vic answered. As they drank their
coffee, Vic told her which were the best shops, restaurants, and bars. Then she asked Chris questions about herself.

"When I was a freshman at Vermont I partied every weekend. That got old by my sophomore year. Same old faces. Same old stories. I got
tired of hearing myself talk." Chris stirred in more cream. 'Luckily, I
never partied so hard that my grades were in jeopardy. My dad would
have killed me. Were you ever a partier?"

"No. Once there are more than eight people, I feel like 1 have a job