Carolyn put her head in Oma’s lap and wept. “I don’t want him to go.”
Oma stroked her hair. “It’s not your choice,
“I’m going to worry about him every day.”
“No. You’re going to go to the university and study and meet interesting people. You’re going to make dreams for yourself. You’ll be so busy you won’t have time to fret.”
“They’ll send him to Vietnam.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“They will, Oma.”
“Then we’ll pray. We’ll get everyone in the church and all our relatives and friends praying, too. And we’ll write letters to him so he knows we love him. Sometimes that’s all you can do, Carolyn. Love people for who they are, pray, and leave them in God’s hands.”
Carolyn wasn’t sure she could trust God. After all, God hadn’t done anything to protect her from Dock.
9
Carolyn worked all summer serving hamburgers and milk shakes at the local diner, and Charlie came in every day. He didn’t have to report to San Diego for basic training until the end of summer. Mitch had already finished basic and transferred to infantry training. Charlie drove down when Mitch called and said he had weekend liberty. When Charlie came home, he disappeared for a day without saying where he was going. He came into the diner just before Carolyn finished work and gave her a ride home.
“I decided not to wait. I’m flying to San Diego on Friday. I’ll be in basic by the beginning of next week.”
She made fists in her lap and looked out the window. “Why are you in such a hurry to die, Charlie?”
“I don’t plan to die. I just can’t stand hanging around here any longer listening to Mom cry or having Dad sit and stare at the news. It’s better if I go. You want to be the one to drive me to the airport?”
“No.”
“Come on, Sis.” He tried to coax her. “I’ll loan you my car for four years.”
“I don’t want your car.” She wanted to know her brother would be safe, and he’d just obliterated that hope.
He sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll take the bus and then a cab.” She knew he expected her to give in.
Dad drove Charlie to the airport. Mom closed herself in the master bedroom and didn’t come out all that day or that evening.
Three weeks later, Carolyn packed and tried to prepare herself to leave home.
Dad said Mom wasn’t up to taking her, and he had to work. Her grandmother would make sure she got settled.
Carolyn carried her things into the dorm. When everything had been put away in her small room, Oma suggested they go for a walk. “I’d like to see the campus before I leave.” They wandered for two hours along the walkways past great halls and through plazas. Oma wanted to see Sather Gate, the Bancroft Library, and the Campanile. “I would’ve given anything to attend a university like this. My father took me out of school when I turned twelve. He thought education was wasted on a girl.”
“You know more than most of the teachers I’ve met, Oma.”
Oma gave a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t give up just because someone says you can’t do something. Sometimes telling someone she can’t makes her want it all the more.”
Oma took Carolyn’s hand as they walked back to the old gray Plymouth. “Time for me to go.” Oma hugged her tightly and patted her cheek. “You’ll be learning from masters. Take advantage of every moment you have.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your best is all anyone can ask.”
Carolyn kept her word. She attended every class, took voluminous notes, studied late into the night, turned in all her assignments on time, and passed her midterms.
Charlie made it through basic and came home on leave. He drove to Berkeley and took Carolyn over to San Francisco for a day. He’d changed since she’d last seen him. He didn’t say much about training, but pressed her for information about her classes, how she liked Berkeley, if she was finding her way okay. She said everything was fine, just fine.
They sat on a bench along Fisherman’s Wharf. Girls looked at Charlie as they walked by. He looked back at a few. She teased him. “Wishing your little sister wasn’t here?”
He laughed and said being locked up in a barracks for weeks on end tended to make a man appreciate the scenery more. “What about you, Sis? Having any fun?”
“Fun? I’m concentrating on keeping my head above water.”
“Oma said you made the dean’s list.”
Carolyn shrugged.
Charlie straightened and studied her. “You’ll make it, Carolyn. You’re a survivor.”
What about him? Would he make it? “I love you, Charlie. If anything happens to you…” She wondered if school was even important anymore.
He put his arm tight around her shoulders. She rested her head against him. He didn’t make any promises this time.
When Charlie dropped her off at the door, the resident manager asked to speak with her. Two students weren’t getting along. “You seem to get along with everybody. Would you mind trying another roommate?” Carolyn didn’t have the nerve to say no. The RM looked relieved.
Depressed, Carolyn went upstairs, bought a Coke from the vending machine, and settled down to study. The door burst open, banging into the closet. Without apology, a girl entered and swung a duffel bag off her shoulder, flinging it onto the striped bed. “Rachel Altman.” She extended her hand. “Since we’re now roommates, call me Chel.” She had a gravelly voice with an Eastern accent.
Startled, Carolyn shook hands. The girl had an arresting, if not beautiful, face framed by a mass of long, curling red hair held back by a woven leather headband with beaded tassels. She wore a white low-necked blouse that was nearly transparent and would have been indecent if not for the bangles and beads. A macrame belt with more beads held up skintight, brown corduroy, hip-hugging bell-bottom pants. Pulling her hand free, the girl dropped onto the bed and gave it a few experimental bounces. Her gold circle bracelets jangled. “Well, it ain’t the Waldorf.”
Carolyn stared, speechless. Chel looked Carolyn over, from her white Keds and socks to her ponytail. Her mouth tipped in a sardonic smile. “Let me guess. You’re an education major,
Carolyn confessed. “What about you?”
“Liberal arts, baby. I’m liberal, and I like art. Seemed a good choice at the time, though I’ve been thinking about changing it to psychology or sociology. Any
“How did you guess mine?”
Chel’s smile turned sly. “I just looked around. All your notes in neat little piles, typed. Books lined up. No dust on your desk. Your bed is made. All you need is a shiny apple on your desk.” She flung herself backward onto the bed and put her hands behind her head. “And you’re wearing a bra! I’ll bet when you get dressed up, you wear a skirt and a nice sweater and pearls.” She muttered a curse and lunged up, startling Carolyn again. “Don’t worry, babe. I don’t bite. Not girls anyway.” She grinned broadly. “You look pretty uptight. You want some pot?” She laughed. “You should see your face. Haven’t tried it yet, have you?” She stood and headed for the door. “Let’s get out of here for a while, have coffee at the student union. I promise to be on my best behavior.” She dragged
