Mother Lode (30 page)

"You didn't answer me, son."

"What did you say?”

"I asked you to fetch the cold water."

He went out through the shed to the rain
barrel, dipped a bucket into it, brought it back to the house and
set it on the floor.

“I’ve sent for an application.”

“Pour it, Jorie. What are you waiting
for?”

“I’m trying to talk to you!”

“Watch your tone of voice. I want to take my
bath now.”

“Every time I bring it up you change the
subject!”

He picked up the bucket, ready to dump the
whole thing in the tub.

“Not so fast. Let me test it first.” She
raised her gown, exposing her leg and swished it with her tiny
foot. “All right, a little more. That’s enough. It cools off so
fast. Now turn around.”

She slipped out of her dressing gown and
stepped into the tub, as Jorie turned away. Making small whimpering
noises, she finally lowered herself into the hot water.

The steam rose around her. “Hand me the
small towel and the pot of soap.”

With his back to her he did so. “And scrub
my back.” She placed the small towel across her chest. “Do I have
to tell you everything?” He picked up the brush as he had so many
times before, dipped it in the soap, and ran it over her back.

“Ouch! Not so hard!”

He threw down the brush in total
frustration, kicked a chair over and strode out of the room.

“Jorie, come back here and pick that
up!"

Reluctantly, he returned to the kitchen and
righted the chair.

"I think you'd best go upstairs until you
have that temper under control," she directed.

"That's just what I plan to do."

He picked up his things and tore up the
stairs two at a time. Tossing his books on the floor and himself on
the bed, he lay fuming with frustration. Anger and arousal met in a
collision of feelings he couldn’t sort out. He unbuttoned his fly
and relieved himself in the only way he knew.

But when it was over, he felt worse than
ever. He knew what had incited his desire, knew that all it took
was the most fleeting sight of his mother’s body, and the picture
of her sitting naked in that tub, to bring him to climax. He was
filled with self-loathing.

He had to get away from her.

He'd been trying to talk to her about the
University for months now, and always she changed the subject. When
he brought it up to Pa, he’d said, “Talk to your mother.”

The application he'd sent for was waiting
for him to fill out. He would have liked her approval, but if she
was going to stall like this, he'd send it in anyway, and see what
happened.

He took the form
from
The Complete Works of William
Shakespeare.
Just filling it out made him
feel closer to obtaining his goal.

In the morning before school, he took the
letter to the post office, stopping at the window to buy a
stamp.

Mr. Gilroy unabashedly read the address, and
turned to Jorie. “The University, is it? Well, I guess our little
college here isn’t good enough for you. Winning prizes and all kind
of swells your head, I reckon.”

Jorie colored and dropped his eyes. Mr.
Gilroy’s son had not been able to get his essay published in the
paper.

The weeks went by slowly as Jorie waited for
a response from Ann Arbor. Perhaps they didn’t let you know if you
were not accepted. Then an awful thought occurred to him. What if
Ma saw the letter and kept it from him?

“Oh, my God!” he thought. “How will I ever
know? I can’t accuse her.”

Finally, the letter came. He knew Ma was
upset about something when he walked in the kitchen. She was
looking down at a large manila envelope in her lap. Then she raised
her furrowed brow to him.

“Tell me what this is, Jorie.”

Hadn’t she opened it? His heart was
pounding. He wanted to pounce on the letter, but stood paralyzed,
in front of her.

As if reading his mind, she answered, “No, I
have not opened it. You will please to do so now, and let me know
what it says.” She handed it to him.

With shaking hands, that were both sweaty
and cold, Jorie took the letter from her, and tried to open the
envelope carefully. He wanted to savor the delicious anticipation
that caused his heart to leap about in his breast.

In exasperation, his mother said, “For
heaven’s sake, son, tear it open.”

He didn’t want to tear it,
not even the envelope. Why couldn’t he have this one moment of
heightened expectation to himself? Perhaps he’d have laid the
letter aside until after dinner. Maybe he’d have taken it to
Frederick’s to share with him. But here was Ma, demanding
her
satisfaction.

Suddenly, he turned and ran upstairs with
the letter. He would not be bullied into having this experience
spoiled by her. And if the University rejected him, he would not
lay his embarrassment and disappointment bare for her
rejoicing.

“Come back, here, Jorie!”

He ignored her, went in his room, and closed
the door behind him.

“Jorie, you come back here! You hear me? I
said, right now!”

He listened, waiting to see what she would
do. She did not follow him up the stairs. He lay down with his hand
on the letter under his pillow. He closed his eyes and imagined a
letter of acceptance, as he had done over and over before. Then to
prepare himself for the worst, he tried to imagine the University
had rejected him. There was a sense of dread, but beyond that, he
hadn’t thought what he’d do.

Finally, unable to bear the suspense any
longer, he opened the envelope and removed the letter. His eyes
caught the first words, “We are happy to inform you. . .”

He didn’t know what made him do it, but he
fell on his knees and gave thanks to God. “I know you are my ally,
for in this thing, oh Lord, surely my mother is not. And yet, you
have seen fit to guide me in this direction, to help me.”

Then he read the complete letter over and
over, until he practically had it memorized. There were more
papers, regarding housing. And they had included a catalogue of
courses. It made him feel as though he was already on his way. He
wouldn’t think, just yet, about the little paragraph stating that
since he would still be under the age of eighteen when the fall
term began, it would be necessary for his parent or guardian to
file a letter giving consent to his admission.

Sitting over a cup of tea in the kitchen
late that evening, she felt the last of the warmth coming from the
stove as her mind spiraled inward and downward. Had she pushed him
too far demanding that he open the University letter in her
presence? Some cliché about honey and vinegar flitted through her
mind. Was this letter from the University of Michigan an
application, or had he already applied and this a notification of
acceptance? It never occurred to her that he would be rejected. If
he’d stay in the North Country, she thought he’d be content in the
end. But once he left, he’d be lost to her forever. Her job was to
keep him home, and keep him content.

Well, the battle wasn’t lost yet. The cost
would be very dear. If they didn’t provide the funds, there was no
way he could go, and that would be the end of it. He’d be upset,
but he’d get over it. She tried to relax.

She waited until morning, and then got it
out of him that it was a letter of acceptance.

“That doesn’t mean you’re going,” she
reminded him.

All week Jorie pored over the catalogue from
the University. He waited until the weekend for a chance to talk to
Pa alone, when Ma would be gone to do the shopping. On Saturday he
could hear Pa out back chopping firewood. He put on his jacket and
went to help him.

“I’ll spell you for awhile, Pa.”

“Pick up the other axe.”

The duet of their axes, point and
counterpoint, rang out through the spring woods as they worked
together splitting the logs. It felt good to dissipate his energy
this way.

When they’d finished Jorie said, “Can I talk
to you, Pa?”

“Just let me get a cup of tea, to warm up my
old bones.”

Jorie waited in the parlor, fearing his
mother would return before they had a chance to talk.

Finally Thomas settled himself in his
favorite chair, blowing on his tea. Jorie waited while Pa poured
part of the tea into the saucer and back into the cup.

“Your mother doesn’t like me to do this,” he
said sheepishly. “What do you have on your mind, son?”

He handed his father the letter from the
University.

“What is it?”

“Read it, Pa.”

Thomas set his tea down and opened the
envelope. Then he fumbled for his glasses.

“Have you seen them? I always leave them
right here on this table.”

Jorie went to the table and felt around on
the floor. He was getting more nervous. Ma had been gone over an
hour.

“Here they are.”

“I must have knocked them off.”

Finally, Pa had his glasses firmly planted
on his face and picked up the letter. When he’d finished reading
it, he looked up. He studied his son’s face for such a long time
Jorie wondered what he thinking.

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Pa.”

His father’s eyes fell to reading the letter
again.

“Your mother thinks you ought to go across
the lake.”

“I know, but that’s not the right kind of
school for me.”

Then he found himself going on about the
wonders of the University: “Just as the word implies, Pa, they have
courses about everything in the universe! I could show you the
catalogue, Pa. It’s quite astounding.”

His father was still looking at the
letter.

“With all due respect to you, Pa, I’ve no
interest in mining.”

“I know that.”

Jorie licked his lips. “Can I go—to the
University?”

“I can’t ignore your mother’s views. But if
you don’t go this fall, you can, of course, when you’re eighteen.
That’s only another year. You’ll be getting your sizeable sum then,
like your brothers.” His father paused, sipped his tea. “If you
want to use it for your education that would be fine with me.
You’ve a good mind, and it deserves to be developed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jorie’s throat swelled up. His father had
given him few words of praise. And the ‘sizeable sum’ — well, it
had been mentioned before, though he hadn’t dare count on it.

Still, he wanted to go to
the University
now
. He thought he’d suffocate if he had to wait one more
year.

“Will you talk to her?”

“You want me to take on your battles? Don’t
you think I have enough trouble with her on my own?” Jorie saw a
little smile in the corner of his father’s mouth.

His father rose to leave, but turned, waving
the letter. “Whether you go or not, this acceptance is quite a
feather in your cap.”

Two days later, Catherine called to him.

“I see you’ve wound your father around your
finger.”

Jorie held his breath.

“At sixteen, you’re much too young to be
thinking about going so far away from home for any reason.”

“I’ll be seventeen in the fall.”

She shook her head. “Go to school here, at
least for two years. Like other boys. Then we’ll see.”

“I don’t want to go to the mining
school.”

“Jorie, it’s not only mining and engineering
they offer. They have other courses, too, English and Geology and
suchlike. We could study together. I’d read the texts too. I
promise. And then we could discuss them.”

“Ma, no! I want to be with boys my own age —
discuss my classes with them.”

“We could have soirees, like they have in
Paris. That’s it! We have a lovely home, and you could invite some
of the bright young men to come — maybe every Sunday night. We’d
have discussions, then I could serve refreshments and you could
even play the piano for them. You would become very popular.”

He could see she was getting desperate, but
he took a deep breath. “No, Ma, I don’t want you to be in my
academic discussions, wherever they are.”

Catherine blinked. He could hear the catch
in her breath. “Well, then, I’ll stay in the background, just serve
refreshments.”

How pathetic she looked. And how he hated
hurting her. But he shook his head.

That evening Jorie eavesdropped on a
conversation between his parents.

“You made sure to tell me
about all his literary accomplishments, my dear. Am I meant to
conclude that he belongs in a
mining
school?”

“For two years, Thomas.”

“You’ve molded and shaped a little intellect
after your heart, and here he is, too big for his books, wanting
the University, if you please.”

Jorie thought he heard his mother sniffle.
He crept closer where he could just see through a crack in the
door.

“And deserving it, too, I might add,” Thomas
said.

Catherine gasped and shoved her hand in her
mouth.

Thomas looked hard at his wife. “You got
what you wanted, woman, now be done with your blithering.” Thomas
tapped his pipe. “You’ve another child to tend to. Had you
forgotten?”

In the end, Pa declared that he could go to
Ann Arbor in the fall, and Ma couldn’t prevent it.

Leaving home wasn’t that easy. His mother’s
tears were so unbearable he tried to put his attention on little
Eliza. But she clung to his neck and cried too. At three she was
very attached to Jorie, and he to her. Totally without judgment of
him, she was always delighted with whatever games he’d suggest or
stories he’d tell her. For his part, he thought being with her was
like a walk in the garden after leaving a smoky room.

But now that he was on his way, the more
miles he could put between himself and his family, the brighter
would be the delights that lay before him. The train rocked back
and forth, putting many to sleep. But not Jorie. The University
would bring a new life, and he couldn’t be more excited.