“I heard how heartbroken you were,” I said.
He started to laugh but stopped. “A long time ago, I decided no girl was going to turn me into a monk.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. That can’t happen to you.”
Now he did laugh. “Let’s get some lunch,” he said. “Smoke the peace pipe or something. You don’t want everyone to think you’re jealous or really mad at me, do you?”
“They won’t.”
I could feel all the eyes on us as we stood there talking.
“I like a lot about you, Aaron. I really do. I think you can be a decent person when you finally decide who you want to be and what’s really important.”
“You’re important,” he said quickly.
Now I smiled. “You’re probably going to be very successful, Aaron, more successful maybe than your father. But you’ll always have a problem with something, I’m afraid.”
“With what?” he asked, now getting a little annoyed.
“Mirrors,” I said, then squeezed his arm gently and walked off to join the girls.
It was odd. I should have been shaking, upset, maybe close to tears, but I felt older, stronger, like someone who had been through a very difficult challenge and now stood straighter. It was as though everything around me was becoming clear and revealing what should be a priority and what shouldn’t, what I should take seriously and what I should shrug off. Most everyone else in my school had the same great advantages that I had. Some would do great things because of that, and some wouldn’t, also because of that. Their lives were too perfect, too soft. The world would become almost intolerable when they were confronted with the many frustrations and difficulties just everyday living could bring.
I knew that all these thoughts were things that should have been waiting for me later on in life. I shouldn’t have been such an adult, but it wasn’t years that changed you; it was events, losses and struggles, more significant happiness and contentment, and finally, more responsibility, especially for someone besides yourself. Aaron had a long way to go to reach where I was. Maybe he never would. Right now, he lived for instant pleasure and didn’t have the patience that a relationship required. I had been thinking he was more sophisticated than I was, but I was suddenly more mature. There was no doubt in my mind that if he had been closer to what I was now, I would have made love to him many times over. And then if we had parted in the near future and found someone else we could love, we would have been all right with it.
In moments, I was back in the thick of things, and as hard as it was for my girlfriends to comprehend, I was happy. Actually, they seemed in awe of me because of how I was acting. I felt more bounce in my walk. I was more alert in class, volunteering answers more than I had for the past few weeks, and other boys who had been hesitant were talking to me between classes. Even though ten days ago, I didn’t think it would be possible, I actually looked forward to Thanksgiving and especially to Christmas, because Uncle Bobby was coming.
The happier, more relaxed atmosphere continued right through the Thanksgiving holiday. Dr. Patrick, however, did not think Count Piro was up to buying presents for anyone, so Grandpa and I went shopping on our own. Since my parents’ deaths, he was dependent on me to buy just the right things for Myra and My Faith and something for his personal secretary, Mrs. Mallen. He decided to buy Uncle Bobby a new watch and wanted my opinion on the possibilities.
This time, he wanted my opinion about a gift for Dorian, too. He was looking for practical things. I told him a woman doesn’t want a practical thing, she wants a beautiful thing. He laughed, and we went to the jewelry department, where I picked out a pair of earrings and a matching necklace I thought she would appreciate; the rubies would complement her eyes and hair. He didn’t hesitate.
After that, we bought some toys for Count Piro. It was painful, because I kept imagining that we were buying them for Willie. Before we left the department store, we split up to buy each other a present. He appeared with three boxes, one from the jewelry department and the other two from clothing.
“I confess,” he said, “I had some advice for this.”
I knew he meant Dorian. What will happen, I wondered, when Count Piro either is gone or no longer needs her? I couldn’t get up the courage to ask him. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the answer.
The days between Thanksgiving and Christmas were always busier than usual. Our teachers seemed in a panic to catch up with their curriculums before the big vacation break. We had more homework, more quizzes and papers due. The school always had a Christmas party traditionally organized by the student government. Every class member had to contribute something for the decorations. Rumors had been swirling about Aaron the week before. Apparently, through some friends of his parents, he had met a girl from Charlottesville and was driving there on weekends to see her. As it turned out, he didn’t attend our Christmas party. Although three different senior boys asked me to the party, including the Troy Donahue lookalike, Winston Kettner, I decided to go with Lila and pretend it was like a dance party years ago, when boys had to write their names on a girl’s dance card.
On the Saturday before our Christmas break, Grandpa surprised me by asking me to take a ride with him immediately after breakfast. When I asked him where we were going, he just said, “We’ll worry about it when we get there.” Of course, I was curious, so I went along and soon realized that he was driving us to the cemetery. We parked and started toward Willie’s grave. I didn’t have to go too far to see why.
Willie’s monument had been installed.
I stopped walking, and Grandpa turned to me.
“I wanted you and me to visit it together first, Clara Sue. I hope you approve of what I had done,” he said.
I swallowed back the empty but painful feeling that had risen from somewhere inside me, a feeling always there but subdued enough to let me go on with my life. It had to be resurrected now. I nodded, and we approached.
Grandpa had ordered a black marble headstone shaped like a heart. A cherub was resting at the top of it, with a hand reaching down o
ver the stone as if comforting Willie. The cherub’s face wasn’t sad. It had an angelic smile.
Willie’s name was inscribed as “William Sanders,” with “Willie” beneath that. The next lines read “Beloved Son, Brother, and Grandson” and then his dates. There was one more line.
“I got advice from My Faith for the inscription,” Grandpa said.
It read: “Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”