Once we finally find a spot, a football field away from the dorm, Haynes turns to Ellie in the backseat. “You sure you don’t want to change your mind? There’s still time to register at Shelby State,for free.”
Dramatically, as if she’s onstage, she rolls her eyes. Haynes’s teasing drives her up a wall. Southwest Tennessee Community College used to be Shelby State in our day. Even though Tennessee kids go free for the first two years, Ellie Woodcock wants nothing to do with it. She’s hell-bent on the SEC experience.
“Daaad.” Her tone is pure frustration. I see her struggling with the door handle. “Open my door. You’ve got the child locks on again. Hurry. Open.”
He turns to me. “Damn thing. It happens every time I turn on the engine.”
The locks click and Ellie bursts out of the backseat. Her long blond ponytail swings as she lifts her chin and gazes up at her new ten-story home. Her arms are stretched out wide, like she wants to give the world a hug.
I roll the window down and turtle my head out toward her. “Honey!” My voice is shrill, full of jollity. “You’re having your Mary Tyler Moore moment. All you need is a tam.”
Two freshmen are unloading right next to us. Both look up and stare. Ellie notices, whips back around, curling her top lip. “I’m having my what?”
I lower my voice. “Your Mary Tyler Moore moment. Didn’t you ever seeThe Mary Tyler Moore Show?”
“Uhhh,nooo.”
Now I’m at a loud whisper. “Mary raises her arms and throws her tam in the air. She’s celebrating her independence.”
Ellie’s murdering me with her eyes. Both hands are dug into her hips.
“Never mind.” I retreat back inside, rolling the window up as fast as it will go.
Not two minutes later, she opens the back door, leans across the seat, and mutters, “Please try not to embarrass me four hundred more times today.” After another eye roll, she grabs her backpack, slings it across one shoulder, and dashes away from our SUV. She’s wearing Lulu shorts and that oversize Rolling Stones T-shirt. We had taken her to Nashville to see them last summer, and she insisted on buying an extra large. She is so much prettier than I ever was. Thank You, God.
“Areyouready for this?” Haynes reaches over to caress my knee.
“I suppose,” I say with a loud sigh.
“Let’s do it.” He jumps out of the driver’s seat.
I just sit there. Truth is, I am not ready for this. As happy as I am for Ellie, I’m dying inside. The thought of empty-nesterness spells misery to me. Most of my friends have been empty-nesters for years. Lilith Whitmore, from Natchez, Mississippi, an Alpha Delt sorority sister of mine—actually more of an acquaintance—is the only older mother I know. When she learned through a mutual friend that Ellie was going to Ole Miss, she called and suggested that her Annie Laurie and my Ellie room together. At the time I thought that would be great. I still do, I suppose, but it’s obvious the Whitmores are extremely well-to-do. That, of course, makes me feel inferior, but my biggest concern is for Ellie. I hope it doesn’t cause her any unnecessary jealousy.
By the time I step outside, Ellie is waiting impatiently at the back of our Expedition, ready to unload. Haynes opens the tailgate. “Hang on. Let’s not get started with all this yet. Why don’t we go inside and get you checked in first?”
“I’ll go,” Miss Independence says. “You and Mom wait here.”
Obligingly, Haynes and I stand at the truck and watch our daughter disappear inside the front door of Martin.
Between the blazing hot temperature and the high humidity, I can actually feel the halo of frizz hovering over my head. A quick touch proves I’m right. I extend a hand toward Haynes. “Give me your keys, please.”
He peers at me, confused.
“If you think I’m standing out here in this steam bath you have another thing coming.” That’s another thing: I am a slave to my hair. It’s naturally curly, and I’m not talking cute curly. I’m talking gross curly. It takes me thirty minutes to blow it out straight, and when the barometric pressure drops I might as well stay home. You would never know I had touched a blow dryer.
On top of that, I’m staying away from hot-flash triggers. I’m not having all that many anymore, but I’m not taking chances. I hop back inside, reach over, and start the engine. Pressing the high button on the AC, I point all four vents directly at my face.
Glancing out the window I see Haynes talking with another dad. Lord have mercy, he looks half our age. When his wife comes up, I know they’re half our age. She looks like she could be a student. Without realizing it, I’m pushing up my cheeks with my thumbs and lifting my forehead with two fingers. I look down at my wrinkled knees and dream, just for a moment, of another day. When my legs were my best asset—at least that’s what I was told.
Thirty minutes later, Ellie finally comes back with a report that we have to stand in line to get the key, but there are helpers from the University ready to “make our move-in hassle free.” So the three of us begin the unloading. Considering what most people have to haul in on move-in day, we have it easy. Someone else is meeting us here with the furniture and bed linens. Lilith put us in charge of the microwave and the coffeepot. All in all, between her clothes, shoes, toiletries, and God knows whatever else, there are a total of ten boxes and suitcases. Haynes had rented a dolly before we left—smart man—and loads a tower of boxes atop. I have Ellie’s Vera Bradley weekender bag on one shoulder, and the handle of a roll-away suitcase in my hand. Ellie is rolling two more suitcases behind her.
When we finally make it to the lobby, I’m floored by how little Martin has changed. The chairs have been updated and there’s a new coat of paint on the walls, but other than that, it’s circa 1976. It even smells the same—a mélange of dirty laundry and the scent of dirt after a rainfall.
Lines to each of the three elevators have been taped off, and once Ellie finally gets her room card—no such thing as keys anymore—we learn that her and Annie Laurie’s room is all the way up on the ninth floor. We’re left with no choice but to wait in line for the elevator. Lilith was the one who insisted we pay a one-hundred-dollar up-charge and move in a day early. But by the looks of the place, many others have done the same thing.
“Can you imagine what tomorrow will be like if it’s this crowded today?” Haynes asks. “Best hundred bucks we’ve ever spent.”
“I agree,” I tell him.
