In Her Day (21 page)

“With my luck the little white strips would be mottos written by Mary Baker Eddy.”

“You don’t look devastated although you sound a touch sarcastic, my dear.”

“You know me, Dell. My only regret is that I never dipped Ilse’s breasts in champagne. How could I? Beer might have met her qualifications but it’s hardly the same.”

Adele laughed. “Someone ought to tell that child the reason for revolution is so the good things in life circulate.”

“Oh, well.”

“Why don’t you call her?”

“No, we’re both too raw. It wouldn’t do any good. Maybe I’ll write her a short note. I don’t know. Can’t make up my mind.”

“Mmm.”

“I never did put much faith in love relationships. I mean it always seemed to me that an element of lying is necessary to keep them going.”

“Probably, for most people. Games and all. There’s
nothing wrong with not wanting that. It’s just that the world we live in is in couples whether they’re straight or whether they’re gay. The world goes by twos.”

“The idea of having someone say my name linked with someone else’s never did sit well with me. Noah would have left me off the ark.”

“Honey, he’d have left us all off the ark.” Adele’s eyes twinkled.

“God knows.”

“Look at it this way. Now you won’t have to spend your time sparring and you won’t have to look at those messy women you used to complain about.”

“I guess I did.”

“Can’t say as I blame you.”

“The first time I saw that crew it was like someone hit me in the face with a wet fish. I’ll never understand why a woman would want to make herself purposefully ugly. Ilse said men made us sex objects and those women reacted against that. But there must be some middle grown between Godzilla and Miss America?”

“Queen Kong?”

“There’s a thought.”

“The time we were in Mother Courage and a few of them straggled in …” Adele paused.

“Yes?”

“What struck me was their appearance, of course, but I sat there and thought to myself—now that is truly stupid. By making themselves as ugly as …”

“Homemade dogshit.”

“Carole!”

“You forget, we said it too down in Richmond.”

“Where was I? Oh, by making themselves so unattractive they are still allowing themselves to be defined by men. A negative reaction is just as limiting
as a positive one. If they really had themselves together they’d do whatever made them feel good, the hell with men one way or the other. I always dress for myself and we all know how Miss Adele loves flashy threads.”

“And you look terrific. You’re right, I never thought of appearance that way—definition. I just figured they were walking around with a fatal dose of self hate.”

“Same difference, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“I am so glad to see you’re not way down. I know you liked that girl.”

“Woman.”

“Oh hell, she’s a girl to me. She’s twenty-two years younger than I am.”

“Can’t say as I’ve figured out the line between girlhood and womanhood myself. I did like her. I do like her. Ah! the tea cup is hot.” Carole put the cup back down.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you those extra big cups keep the heat.”

“All this did bring a few threads together for me. Things I overlooked or ignored.”

“Oh?”

“Adele, this may sound crazy but I’m longing for my childhood. Remember that time when things were pure?”

“Yes, yes, I know what you mean.”

“I’ve lost some of me and I want it back. An idea keeps going around in my head to go back to my roots. Don’t look surprised. I want to go back to Richmond or outside Winchester where Grams had the farm. I don’t know how or when. There are universities and colleges around. I ought to be able to get some kind of job.”

“Leave the city?”

“I love the city even when it’s awful but it’s not my home. I want to go home. I want roots.”

“But, Carole, you’ve got roots here, all your friends.”

“I know, I know, but it’s not the same. I know this sounds silly but somehow it’s hitting me that I want to go back where I came from. Not in time and not back to the slums but back to the area, the land.”

“If ever there was a Southern philosophy, that’s it. The land. I can’t say that I haven’t felt that way myself. I don’t exactly long for the folk’s mansion in St. Louis but I wonder sometimes if I haven’t run away and called it opportunity? I often wonder should I go teach at a small Black college if they can make room for me. It does run through my head. I don’t do anything about it because of Verne. Her chance is right here. Maybe in time she’ll want to go and then we’ll do it. But until that time, if it ever comes, I’ll stay here unless I get the call.”

“I think I’ve got the call. I’m going—I just don’t know when or where. Richmond, Winchester, University of Virginia?”

“It’s not the whole answer. It isn’t like you’re an urban vagabond. We do have some community here.”

“I know, Adele, I do know. But what impact can we have on this city? Our jobs give us some chance to do something but it’s not enough any more. I’m tired of professionalism in that narrow sense. I want more. I want to go somewhere where my voice isn’t so small. Back to my roots. Maybe that’s part of what’s wrong with America. We’ve been running away from our roots since World War I and now we’re all lost. Opportunity turned out to be not enough. Job status isn’t the same thing as being valued in your community. Do you know what I mean?”

“I feel the frustration, I know, but I figure the city
is the women’s frontier. Besides, who’s going to listen to a lesbian? At least here you can be open to an extent.”

“Well, if we all keep hiding in the giant cities we’re cheating ourselves … but the women’s movement
has
made a difference. There’s more room now. I’m not saying it’s easy but maybe that’s just what we have to do, Adele, go back where we came from and fight this out.”

“Carole?”

“No, I haven’t turned into a revolutionary, not yet anyway. But I’m beginning to see there’s more to my life than just me. And part of what can help me find some peace—going back home—may turn out to help women there—and men too if they care to learn.”

“If that doesn’t give you inner peace then you’ve got nothing left but evangelism and brandy,” joked Adele.

“Or worse, I’ll be condemned to reflection.”

“Before you sentence yourself let me bring some chocolate chip cookies. We can dip them in our tea.”

“If we’d bought stock in Coca Cola and Nabisco when we started teaching we’d be rich by now.”

Adele sailed back in with the cookies on a plate. “Carole, I can’t imagine being without you.” Her voice was soft. “I know you wouldn’t go for at least a year or two but we’ve been together all these years. It doesn’t seem possible.”

“I … whenever I start thinking about my roots I remind myself that you’re part of those roots, the best part.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe by the time I’m ready you two will feel like moving.”

“Verne and I never really talked about it but I’ll bring it up. She might surprise both of us. Bloomies
isn’t the center of the earth. Maybe she’ll set off in a spirit of enterprise and start her own little store or something. If we’re near colleges there will be a market for clothes and the clever things she picks up.”

“Ask her. You know she might see it as an adventure. And there’s no reason we couldn’t all move back to New York if things didn’t work out.” She paused. “Adele, have you ever wondered why we never became lovers?”

“Now there’s a bolt out of the blue. What brought that on?”

“This last fling and thoughts of moving. It suddenly became clear to me I love you more than anyone on earth.”

“Dammit.” Adele spilled her tea.

“Stay there and I’ll get a paper towel.” Carole came back from the kitchen and mopped up the tea. “Clutz.”

“No. Surprised.”

“I’ve thought of it thousands of times—I mean that you’re dear to me. I guess I never thought it had to be said. Where I come from you don’t have to say things like that, people know.”

“I know, I knew, I … it’s fine. God, I sound like I’m conjugating.”

Carole laughed.
“Amo, amas, amat.”

“
Amamus, amantis, amant
. Did I get it right?”

“How the hell do I know? I just read the stuff, I never hear it.”

“While we’re at this, I want a turn. Why do you think we never went to bed?”

“You never asked me.”

“Carole Hanratty, that’s obscene. Me ask you?”

“What did you think? I was going to ask you?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“What’s he got to do with this?”

“I figured you weren’t turned on by Black women.”

“Adele, are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Would I say a dumb thing like that if I didn’t mean it?”

“Well, when we met it was volatile. But once we became friends that sort of thing faded. In fact, color became rather silly. How could anyone take it seriously?”

“Yeah, I know, but the only way we found out was to spend time together. Ilse’s generation has a better chance on that than we did. I always thought you were beautiful, spectacular. You know that?”

“No, I knew you liked me but …”

“You’re still beautiful, Carole, inside and out.”

“You too, Dell. When you walk into the room I smile. Even when I’m depressed as hell your presence makes me smile. Makes me glad I’m breathing. I don’t know, somehow we missed our sexual connection. When I met you, you were going with whoozits. By the time I was attempting my forever relationship, well, that was just the time you broke up. Then, boom, you met LaVerne. So now how will we ever make love?”

“Ha.”

“We can’t sneak around on LaVerne. I adore her. I couldn’t do anything like that, neither could you. Dell, we screwed up.”

“Oh, we’re not dead yet. Anyway, maybe that’s one of the reasons we’re so tight, the possibility of making love was always there underneath. We never acted on it. Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t but if we don’t it won’t be tragic. I have to say I don’t know if I could handle it. I’ve always been, what’s that awful word, monogamous?”

“We’d be almost incestuous, wouldn’t we?”

“Sisters?”

“Sisters.” Carole leaned over and kissed Adele on the cheek. “You know what else I’ve been thinking?”

“My dear, at this point I couldn’t possibly imagine.”

“Ilse did show me some things. I was thinking I ought to write a book about outstanding women in the Middle Ages. Not much has been done about women back then.”

“Back then? Any time.”

“You take the Mayan women and I’ll take European women in the Middle Ages. With my background it wouldn’t be too difficult to put together a book of heroines, women like Eleanor de Montfort in the thirteenth century and Queen Margaret who won the battle of St. Albans. There’s so much material that ought to be brought to light. That’s not the same as organizing a child care center but it’s something I can do. And I think it’s important to know what our ancestors did.”

“I think it’s a glorious idea. You know I think all the dead are our ancestors. We should pay attention to them.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“It’s a beautiful day. Come on, let’s walk in the park. Want to?”

“Sure.”

As they walked out the front door into the early afternoon sun, Adele turned to Carole. “You know what I think?”

“My dear, I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“I think the secret of life is there is no secret.” Adele threw her hand to the sun with a flourish.

“I think you’re right.”

I wish to thank Dolores Alexander and Jill Ward for allowing me to describe and use their restaurant, Mother Courage. I’m also grateful to Nina Finkelstein who took time out from her hectic schedule to give me good advice. Thanks to Rhoda Katerinsky for her encouragement and unfailing good humor. Ginger Ellsworth, Zoe Kamitses, and Lana Cantrell were friends above and beyond the call of duty to help type the manuscript. Linda Lachman put in a share of typing duty too. Special cheers to Jean O’Leary and again to Lana Cantrell for giving me the time to write the first draft. Barbara Boldtmann, Mary Molaghan, and Dr. Joanna Spiro were continual sources of hilarity. Matile and Harold Poor edited the first draft, a labor comparable to cleaning the Augean Stables. If any mess is left don’t blame it on them but on the enormity of the task. Liz and Chris Poor and Elaine Noble provided diversion when I needed it most. Nancy Cunningham read the original manuscript and found Lester Maddox far too vulgar. Ever sensitive to criticism, when I reworked
In Her Day
I made him doubly foul. And praise be to Baby Jesus and Frip who perforated the manuscript with their teeth as well as walking over it lest I gain a reputation for neatness.

B
OOKS BY
R
ITA
M
AE
B
ROWN
WITH
S
NEAKY
P
IE
B
ROWN

B
OOKS BY
R
ITA
M
AE
B
ROWN

RITA MAE BROWN is the bestselling author of
Rubyfruit Jungle
,
In Her Day
,
Six of One
,
Southern Discomfort
,
Sudden Death
,
Bingo
,
High Hearts
,
Venus Envy
,
Dolley: A Novel of Dolley Madison in Love and War
,
Riding Shotgun
,
Loose Lips
,
Starting from Scratch: A Different Kind of Writers’ Manual
, and an autobiography,
Rita Will: Memoir of a Literary Rabble-Rouser
. She is the co-author with Sneaky Pie Brown of the Mrs. Murphy mystery series and
Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers
. Rita Mae Brown is also an Emmy-winning screenwriter and a poet. She lives on a farm near Afton, Virginia.