“She does everything but the desk.I won’t let her touch that.I know where everything is.”
“But you can’t possibly work there.”
She patted the bed.“I work here.It’s more comfortable.”
“You talk on the phone there.”His expression was growing darker.She could see that he was getting caught up in his cause.“You’ve already blown it for Penn.Even as an alum, I couldn’t pull enough weight to get you in with C’s and D’s.”
“B’s and C’s,” she corrected quietly, knowing she wouldn’t go to Penn even if John paid her.It was his school.And it was in the wrong direction.She didn’t wantto go south of Boston.She was thinking of going north, to Bates or Bowdoin.
“You may not think it matters where you go, Pam, but it does.The contacts you make in college are important.”
“I know.”
“Do you?Go to a lousy school, and you’ll meet lousy guys.Bring a lousy guy home, and there’s no way I’ll approve of the marriage.”
“Marriage?”She held up a hand.“Whoa.I’m sixteen years old.I’m not thinking of marriage.”
“Isn’t that what you and your friends spend hours talking about?”
“No!”
“Girls always talk about boys,” his eyes fell to her breasts, which pushed gently against her sweater, “and since you’re finally looking more like a girl than a boy—”
“John—”
“You are.”
“I know that.”But she could still remember the agony of being the flattest of her friends, year after year.She couldn’t begin to tally the sleep she’d lost worrying that she was never going to develop or get her period.After suffering in silence for months, too worried to mention her fears to Marcy or Hillary lest they confirm that she had a problem, she finally took herself to a gynecologist whom one of her friends had seen.The examination was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but the doctor found nothing wrong that time wouldn’t fix.Pam had been fifteen then.Sure enough within three months she started to fill out.
“You’re looking pretty, Pam,” John went on.“Don’t tell me the boys don’t notice.”
She shrugged.
“And don’t tell me you don’t notice them back.You’re out with boys as often as you’re with girls.”
“We’re all friends.We have been for years.”She waited, wondering if she’d been set up.If he had overheard her talking about Robbie and Bill and suspected that Ginny had invited the two to spend the weekend in the boat house, she’d be in big trouble.Robbie and Bill weren’t schoolmates of theirs.They were freshmen at Boston University.Pam wasn’t in love with Robbie, but he was fun.
But John made no mention of specifics.“I know how things work with groups like that.You pair up, then break off and pair up with someone else, and through the whole thing the girls are sitting in class doodling ‘Mrs.So-and-so’ on their books.High school is just practice.The serious manhunting takes place in college.”
“Times have changed,” Pam informed him, straightening her spine.“Women aren’t going to college to get married.They’re training for careers.Look at Hillary.Like, she’s a perfect example.”
“What’s with thislike,for God’s sake?”John barked.“If it’s supposed to be cool, it’s wasted on me.As far as I’m concerned, it’s nothing but poor English.”
Pam was more interested in making her point than in arguing idiomatic usage.“Isn’t she a perfect example?”
“Hillary is an exception.”
“Maybe among the women you know.”
“And the ones you know are different?”He straightened,preparing for battle.“Come off it, Pam.Your friends come from families that are loaded.Do you honestly think they’re planning to work their way through life?You can bet their fathers have said the same thing to them—more than once—that I just said to you.”
But Pam doubted that Eugene would have said it.He wasn’t like that.Lord, she missed him.She missed his robust laugh, missed the way she could tell him anything, missed the way he used to hug her for no reason at all except that he loved her.
She missed Patricia, too, but that grief wasn’t as simple.It was mixed with loneliness, wishful thinking, and guilt.Patricia was still hospitalized.Her psychiatrist, Robert Grossman, whom Pam had begun calling for updates on her mother’s condition, had suggested that Pam visit each month.If she missed a month or two, though, it never seemed to matter.Patricia was pleasant; she responded to things Pam said with simple replies, but she never asked questions, never expressed interest or concern.She never called Pam on the phone, never remembered a birthday, never took the initiative in any aspect of their relationship.
By keeping busy with her friends, Pam was able to forget how much that bothered her.
“Besides,” John went on, “if you’re planning on a career, the college you go to is even more important.”
