Family Secrets (69 page)

Her parents drove her to the airport from Windflower. They were still up there, and her father said it was easier. Buffy had all new clothes and some new suitcases. She’d made her mother buy her very light suitcases, for air travel. She was no fool: when she got to travel all around Europe when she was a runner she would need to travel light. She had her clock radio under her arm, but her father had to ship her hi-fi and records air freight.

“You’re supposed to study, you know,” her father said, “not listen to that rock ’n’ roll.”

“I know.” She also knew he would give in, because he always did.

The school seemed so big after her high school. There were so many people, so many buildings. But there was really only one thing Buffy was interested in, and that made it all seem smaller and not so frightening. She registered for some courses that sounded like fun. She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was going to major in, but neither did most of the other kids. You didn’t have to decide right away. One of the courses she signed up for was Russian Films—just in case she ever met Yuri, they could have something to talk about.

She still had her crush on Yuri. She decided not to fall in love with any of the boys at school because you could get hurt that way. Most of the girls and boys slept together when they went out and Buffy knew it didn’t mean anything and if you fell in love with a boy you were seeing you could be hurt very badly when he went on to another girl. Everybody
said
they were in love, but they just said it. Also, girls were very ashamed about being virgins. It was like being a virgin meant they were neurotic or something. On the other hand, you wanted to say you’d only had a very few boys you’d actually slept with. You could go to bed with a boy and do everything else, but if you didn’t actually screw then it didn’t count as a bona-fide affair or whatever they were calling it this week. There were all those dumb rules that didn’t make any sense at all. She ended up having a lot of friends. It was easier. She had a couple of romances, and of course you had to tell your friends that sex was great, although she didn’t think it was so wonderful. Those boys didn’t even know what they were doing. One boy, who was so shy he’d never done anything with a girl before, she actually had to tell him what to do. It was a disaster. She wondered if it would have been different if she had been born beautiful, or if it would have been worse.

Sex, Buffy thought, was highly overrated, but what else was there to do on Saturday night when neither of you had any money?

There were frequent all-comers track meets, where anybody who showed up could compete, and Buffy competed in all of them. She always came in in the first three, and people were beginning to notice her and know who she was. That made everything else worthwhile. She trained every day, and if she ever missed a day she felt so guilty it almost made her feel sick.

Then she entered the national championship. You had to come in first or second to qualify for the national team, the one that got to tour all over Europe during the summer, competing in track meets. This was the big one, the one Buffy had been waiting for. She was ready. She entered the 880, as always, and came in second. Her dream was going to come true, and the only thing that spoiled it was that she had wanted to come in first. It had been so close she was almost first. It really annoyed her not to be first, the best, even though being second was just as good because it meant she made the team and that was really what she wanted. She wouldn’t be going to Windflower this summer, for the first time in her life; she would be going to West Germany and Italy and Paris. And someday, maybe even Moscow! All those countries, with all those kids her age, guys as well as girls, seemed like paradise.

Her parents might not like it, but that was too bad. It wouldn’t cost them anything, and she was a grownup now and could go wherever she wanted.

When she went home at midterm, a boy she’d been sleeping with named Lee, who wanted to be a newspaperman, invited Buffy to a party for the team of Russian runners who had been touring the indoor track circuit. He knew she would really appreciate it, but he didn’t know how much. Yuri was on the team. At last, if everything went well, she would meet him.

The minute she and Lee entered the crowded hotel room she saw Yuri. He stood out from everybody else, his fair hair, his smile, that handsome familiar face she had been dreaming of all these years; it was as if there was a glow around him. Buffy’s heart turned over. Her mouth was dry. What could she say to him? Suppose he didn’t speak English?

“Get me a ginger ale,” she said to Lee. He trotted off to the bar and Buffy walked up to Yuri. He was with two men, so she was ahead already.

“Hi,” Buffy said.

Yuri nodded his head and smiled at her. “Hi,” he said.

“Do you speak English?”

“Little.”

“I’m a big fan of yours,” she said. “A big admirer.”

“Oh, fan. Thank you.”

“My name is Buffy Nature.”

Faced with this juggernaut the two men who were with Yuri smiled knowingly and moved away to join another group. Buffy found herself alone with him. He looked her up and down. “You have nice legs,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Lee took just that moment to come over with her glass of ginger ale and Buffy could have killed him. She took the glass and gave him a fierce look. He knew she was a track fanatic so he went over to another girl and started talking to her, glancing at Buffy to see what progress she was making. Lee seemed more amused than jealous, for now.

“That man your husband?” Yuri asked.

“Oh, no. A friend. Are you married?”

He laughed. “No, no married. I don’t like marriage.”

“Neither do I,” Buffy said.

“You come my room?”

She could hardly believe she had been so honored. “Yes,” she said.

“I have three roommates. Must get key another room,” Yuri said. “You wait here.”

“I have to get away from my friend,” Buffy said. “Let’s meet somewhere.”

He thought a moment. “You know where is laundry room?”

“No.”

“Down hall, this side.” He gestured. “Small room with door open. We meet there. I get key to friend’s room.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Hurry.”

When he left her Buffy glanced at Lee and then walked very casually out of the living room into the bedroom, as if she were going to the bathroom, and then darted out the bedroom door into the hotel corridor. The laundry room was not far, and the door was open as Yuri had said. The maids were probably making up the rooms for the night. Buffy went into the laundry room and hid in the corner. Her heart was pounding.
He’d better show up
, she thought. That would be the worst thing that ever happened to her, to be stood up in a laundry room. At least no one would know, but what humiliation! Now she was sorry she hadn’t gone to the bathroom, because she was so nervous she really had to go. She’d just have to go in his room. It wouldn’t be very romantic, but Russians knew the facts of life just as well as anybody else. She took her mirror out of her purse and checked her makeup. Oh, hurry up, Yuri!

Yuri appeared at the door of the laundry room with a big smile on his face and a hotel room key dangling from his hand. They sprinted down the hall together and he opened the door to an empty room. There were two twin beds, neatly turned down for the night, the curtains were closed, and a soft night-light made it all romantic and cosy. He locked the door and began to take off his clothes.

“Excuse me,” Buffy said, and went into the bathroom. Whew, now she felt better. When she came out of the bathroom he was already in one of the beds with the covers up to his chest, lying there waiting for her. She thought he looked gorgeous. She took off her clothes and dropped them on the floor and slipped into the narrow bed next to his silky body. Then he kissed her, and she just couldn’t believe this marvelous thing was really happening to her, after all those years of wishing.

He was perfect in bed. Buffy was so thrilled she just couldn’t get over it. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her in her entire social life. Yuri had taken one look at her and had been overcome with passion and had whisked her right off to bed with him. Buffy’s ego had just gone up about one thousand percent. She would never think she was ugly again. Yuri had picked
her
!

Yuri looked at his wristwatch. “Is late. Must go back.”

Buffy turned his wrist toward her and looked at his watch. It was wonderful how going to bed with someone could make you feel so at ease with him afterward. Before, she wouldn’t even have dared touch his wrist, now she was just as proprietary as if he was anybody. They had been in the room for twenty minutes. She hoped that jerk who had brought her to the party wouldn’t start looking for her. Gee, she had
liked
Lee. He hadn’t seemed like such a jerk before. Well, everything was relative.

When they were dressed she gave Yuri a last kiss. He smiled at her “Very nice girl,” he said.

“Very nice boy.”

“Not boy. Twenty-four years old.”

“Very nice
man,
” Buffy said.

“You go first, I lock door.”

“See ya,” she said wistfully, peered outside the door to be sure the corridor was empty, and darted back to the party.

Lee didn’t seem to have missed her. She saw Yuri come in then and go over to talk to some people, and she thought:
I know him better than anybody here even guesses
. He was so gorgeous! She felt fine. She wondered if she would get pregnant. They hadn’t bothered to use anything. Wouldn’t that be something, having Yuri’s baby! No, it would be awful; it would ruin her career. Buffy was sure she wouldn’t get pregnant. It wasn’t a dangerous day, and besides, nothing bad had ever happened to her in her life.

That spring Buffy trained as hard as she could, even working out in the gym with weights to build up strength. She wrote Yuri a letter, but he never answered it and she wondered if he even got it. If it was meant for them to meet again they would, if not, she had her whole life ahead of her. If she’d gotten him in two seconds, imagine what adventures lay ahead of her in Europe! She could hardly wait.

Her European tour that summer with the American team was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She kept winning. She loved to run and she loved to win, and the only event she didn’t much care for was the relay race because you were doing it for the team, not for yourself. Buffy didn’t care at all about the team, she only cared about herself. Being at the head of the pack, running on your own, knowing you had left the others behind, that was bliss.

The guys and girls from different countries didn’t mingle much socially. You dated the boys on your own country’s team, and went out in groups with the boys and girls from your own team, so Buffy was glad she hadn’t wasted her time studying any foreign languages. She liked all the American boys and slept with two of them.

Her parents were not pleased about her career, although they were glad she was getting a chance to see the world, as long as she gave it all up at the end of the summer. Buffy had no intention whatsoever of giving it up at the end of the summer, or ever. She no longer felt as if she lived in her parents’ apartment, or at Windflower. She lived in the college dorm, and she lived in a series of European hotels. She was never going back home, except to drop off clothes from one season and pick up clothes from another. She was never going back to Windflower. She didn’t have to.

She knew that when she graduated she would be invited to enter meets all winter long, and would be touring winter as well as summer. When she graduated she would get her own apartment. Probably it wouldn’t be in New York. New York was too expensive. She might even live with a guy if she was in love at the time. She knew from traveling with the team that living with one boy would be infinitely preferable to living with messy girls.

Windflower had become like an old half-forgotten dream, one you wanted to forget. She had been dreaming all the years she had lived there, lost in fantasies, dreaming up her future. Now her future was here, and it was real. She supposed she’d see her parents once in a while. If she ever ran at Madison Square Garden they could watch her win. They were so cheap they wouldn’t go anyplace else, like Europe. But you never knew. They might reform, or her father might find a really low-priced package tour. If anyone could, he could. Buffy didn’t really care. They were the ones who wanted to see her, not she them. But they’d probably stay at Windflower. They’d probably enjoy having the house all to themselves. They were the only ones who really seemed to use the facilities at Windflower. She could never be so easily satisfied. She wanted exactly the life she had now, and would have, and she had done it
herself
. Buffy felt proud.

FIVE

Everett was forty-two years old that winter, and in his own way he had found his manhood, his contentment, peace of mind, and what passed for happiness. He had settled into his ways, a routine, a regimented untidiness, a life style, and he had found friends. He still lived in the same little house, that seemed big now because he was alone in it. John was fourteen and away at a ritzy New England prep school. Frankie had faded into a memory. The furniture was worn and torn and used, just the way Everett liked it. Daisy, his beloved Doberman, had been killed by a car, and he had replaced her with another killer dog; this one he named Bluebell. She had a sweet face, and she obeyed him. He liked the way she terrified intruders and kept his privacy intact.

He worked long hours in his television repair shop, not because his mother would ever let him starve, but because he really enjoyed it. A girl answered the phone, a young plump girl, not his type, with a moustache. Everett was gruff with her and she brought him coffee in the mornings from the diner across the way, in a damp paper cup, with a cruller: his breakfast. She had a boyfriend who picked her up at the shop at the end of the working day in a pickup truck.

At the end of his working day Everett had gotten into the habit of stopping off at a neighborhood bar called The Stoney End. It was a dark, pleasant bar, patronized mostly by men who would never consider taking their wives there because their wives were supposed to be home taking care of the house. They all knew a woman’s place. The Stoney End smelled faintly of beer, the television set above the bar was black and white and was always tuned to sports events, except when it was time for the six o’clock news. Everett liked to get there in time for the six o’clock news, drink a Miller, and talk to his cronies. There were no seasons in The Stoney End, no world, except that at Christmas time some plastic poinsettias graced the windows and after Christmas a silver paper banner proclaimed Happy New Year. The air conditioning was always at the same temperature, not quite cold enough, and the men sat there in their shirtsleeves, comfortably bantering with the owner-bartender.