I held the receiver to my ear for a few moments longer, like someone who wanted the taste of something wonderful to last as long as possible. I had no way to judge, of course. Ami was right about my inexperience, but my instincts were telling me not to be afraid of Trevor, that there was an underlying goodness about him, and he wasn't simply looking at me as he would look at one more conquest.
It was surely times like this when I missed Noble the most, missed the sound of his voice in my mind, the sight of his spiritual being. Had I drifted too far from him, from them all, from my past, from my family? Would I never touch or hear them again?
"All children," my psychologist Dr. Sackett had told me, "have their imaginary, innocent world, and then they grow out of it. I suppose we always mourn the loss of childhood faiths, of that willingness to believe in something more, but it's how we were meant to be in order to function in the adult world," he said.
For me, it was too great a sacrifice and loss, I thought. And yet I was afraid to work hard at regaining it. I was afraid of being considered as crazy as my mother and my family. I was afraid of being stigmatized and forever branded weird. Where would I go under those conditions, and whom would I love and who would love me? How could I find a compromise, hold on to the wonder I once knew and enjoyed, and yet live among those who never had and never could?
I'm tired of being lonely, I thought. I'm tired of being shut up in one world or another. Gazing around at all that I now had and would have, I wondered if I was willing to wait. Trevor's soft dark eyes called to me.
I wanted so much to answer.
For now, I had to still my inner voices, keep my heart from beating too fast and too hard, and pretend I didn't yet care.
With all this turmoil spinning in my brain, I had a hard time getting back to my homework, but I managed. In fact, I was so involved in my studies, I lost track of time. Ami was shocked to see me still sitting at my desk.
"What are you doing? You have to get dressed! It's not something a woman does in ten minutes. We don't shave a little and splash on some scented lotion, put on a shirt and pants, and run out brushing our hair. Preparations, preparations, preparations, are so important, Celeste. I thought I had taught you that already."
"I'm sorry. I just got involved in my
schoolwork. I'll get dressed quickly."
"I'm not asking you to do it quickly. I'm asking you to do it perfectly," she said. "Don't be such a student," she warned, nodding at my books. "You'll miss out on the important things. I'll be back in a half hour." She glanced at her watch. "Actually, it's all right for us to be a little later than ever. I'm still mad at Wade for opening his mouth to me about not getting you to school this morning," she said, and left.
I started to dress immediately, again wondering why it was always so important to look sexy and attractive for Wade's father. When I had finished and went to her room, Anti was surprised at how quickly I had gotten myself together. I stood there waiting for her to criticize something, but she smiled and nodded at me instead.
"Very nice. You look terrific, Celeste. I'm proud of how quickly you've picked up on everything. You've done a wonderful job on your lips and eyes." She tilted her head. "You're not lying to me, are you? You didn't do all these things before you arrived here?"
"Hardly," I said, smiling.
"Well. It doesn't matter." She sprang to her feet. "What matters is, we look fantastic once again. Wade's already called to see where we are. He says his father is drinking too much too fast. He needs me, you see. Next time he won't be so quick to pick up the phone to chastise me for something. Take note. These are little lessons you'll appreciate when you finally settle down with your own Wade," she said, and hooked her arm through mine.
My own Wade? Whomever I fell in love with and married, I thought, I hoped our relationship would be far better. Was that a silly dream? Were all marriages eventually the same, with two people eventually finding ways to tolerate each other, rather than hold on to something magical and special?
"You're teasing me," Basil Emerson accused the moment we entered the dining room. He pointed his thick, long forefinger at Ami, and his expression of anger actually nailed my feet to the floor for a moment and stole my breath. His eyes were blazing.
Wade had his head down and his hands clasped like some penitent hoping for mercy. I saw the full glass of whiskey in front of Basil on the table.
"Moi?" Ami said, pretending grand innocence. "How so, Basil?"
"Keeping us waiting like this. You know what they call women who do that, don't you?" he asked, and then he smiled, reached for his glass, and took a drink. "Women who tease?"
"We just can't rush our preparations, Basil," Ami said, leading me to the table. "Imagine if someone tried to rush Renoir or da Vinci."
Basil roared with laughter, and Wade looked up. "You're comparing putting on makeup to a worldclass artist?" he asked.
"Yes," Ami said without hesitation. "Basil, am I right?"
"You're always right in my book, Ami," he said. "Now look at you," he said, turning to me. "Every time I see you, Miss Unfortunate, I am more and more confused. How could you have been passed up all these years?"
"The people coming to the orphanages weren't looking for concubines, Dad," Wade muttered.
"Conk you what?"
"They're looking for needy children, children they could help find family lives," Wade explained. "Not lovers and mistresses and the like."
Basil pulled the corners of his mouth in and shook his head.
"You ever relax, Wade? You ever crack a joke with the crew at the plant? Sometimes I wonder if I had anything to do with your birth at all."