Turning Angel

Mia rises from the first row and walks uncertainly up the steps to the stage. She usually walks with such self- possession that I wonder if she’s been drinking. If I recall correctly, I had a bit to drink myself on my graduation night.

Mia has to pull down the microphone to reach it with her mouth. There’s a shrill whistle of feedback, then silence. Mia holds up a sheaf of paper and speaks in a conversational tone.

”I wrote a whole speech for tonight. I’ve been thinking about it all year long. But now, looking out at you guys, I don’t want to read it. This class has been through a lot this year. Maybe too much. We lost…so much. We lost two great people, and we lost the last shreds of our innocence. I’m not sure we gained anything, other than experience. But I guess it’s not up to us to choose when we learn what life is really about.“

She looks down at the podium, seeming to gather herself. ”I know a lot of parents have been freaked out by what they learned about our class in the wake of Kate’s and Chris’s deaths. Of course, parents in every generation have been shocked when they somehow learned the truths of their children’s lives. That’s the way of the world. But now, in this time and this generation, I think they’re right to be shocked. I’m part of this generation, and I’m shocked. We seem to have reached a point in our society where every form of restraint has been broken down or stripped away. There are no rules anymore. In the nineteen sixties, our parents fought to achieve political freedom and liberation of the self. Well, now we’ve got it. We’ve got about as much freedom and liberation as anybody can stand. I’ve had a computer in my bedroom since I was five years old. I’ve had access to basically all the information in the world since I was twelve-not in a library, but right at my fingertips. At the slightest whim, I can view images of just about anything that piques my curiosity. And I have. But am I better for that? I don’t know.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like freedom. But you can have too much of a good thing. At some point you have to draw a line, agree on some rules, or all you have is chaos. Anarchy. So, I guess what I’m saying tonight is this: That’s our job, guys. Our class, I mean. And our generation. To figure out where freedom stops being a blessing and starts being a curse. Our parents can’t do it. They don’t even understand the world we live in now. Maybe that job can’t even be done for a society. Maybe it’s an individual decision in every case. But it seems to me that humans given absolute freedom don’t do a very good job of choosing limits.”

Mia sighs deeply, then gifts the audience with one of her remarkable smiles. “Natchez is a good place to be from. But now it’s time for us to go. I wish I could say something inspiring, but I guess this isn’t that kind of speech. I am hopeful about the future. I do believe I can change the world. I just know that it won’t be easy.”

She waves to her class with one long swing of her hand, then walks back down the steps to join them.

There’s a smattering of applause, but it soon dies. No one knows what to make of Mia’s honesty. In a rather subdued conclusion to the ceremony, Holden Smith passes out diplomas to the graduates. After he’s done, the seniors toss their caps into the sky as one, putting the stamp of conventionality on the proceeding at last.

I walk down the steps into the milling throng and make my way toward Mia. She’s surrounded by classmates and parents, so I stand a few yards away and wait. A few moments later, I see Drew and Ellen moving toward me through the crowd. A few people gawk as they pass, but most simply go about their business.

To my surprise-and my satisfaction-Natchez remains the eccentric Southern town in which people who have caught their spouses in bed with others still attend the same Pilgrimage parties, and graciously pour punch for mortal enemies.

Ellen is wearing a designer dress, but she looks pale and drawn. She’s currently participating in an outpatient rehab program overseen by a local physician. Drew is seeing a psychiatrist with her in Jackson every three days. He’s been working out his grief by doing writing exercises, which he says read more like an elegy to Kate than anything else. He told me that the hardest thing for Ellen to deal with has been something I only recently recalled from the autopsy report. Kate died from strangulation, but the “bleed” in her brain caused by hitting her head on the buried wheel would probably have killed her, had she not been strangled before that could happen. So while Ellen did not in fact kill Kate, she did inflict what would have been a fatal injury. She only escaped prosecution because no one in the world knew that she had been at the crime scene-no one, that is, but the unholy pentangle of Drew, me, my father, Mia, and Quentin Avery. And none of us will ever speak of it.

After the last of Mia’s well-wishers drifts away, I signal Drew to join me beside her.

“Great speech,” I say, hugging her to my side.

She looks sheepish. “Not so great.”

“Better than mine, anyway.”

“That’s true. Were you on drugs or something?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

She suddenly realizes that Drew and Ellen are behind her. She turns and gives them an awkward wave. “Hey.”

“I enjoyed your speech,” Ellen says. “Very much to the point.”

“Thanks.”

An uncomfortable silence follows this exchange, so I break it. “Drew has something to tell you, Mia.”

“Really?”

He nods and smiles at her. “I want to thank you for everything you did for me.”

“You already thanked me. That day I saw you in Planet Thailand.”

Ellen smiles as though bursting with a secret. “We wanted to thank you in a more tangible way.”

“But…I already got your present.”

“The jewelry box?”

Mia nods.

Ellen laughs, and Drew actually blushes. “Mia,” he says, “today I went down to my broker’s office and opened an account in your name.”

Mia nods, but I’m not sure she understands what Drew is saying. The excitement of the day, giving her speech, thoughts of the party later-all this is more than a little distracting. While Drew tries to find the right words, a girl runs up and hugs Mia, then squeals and races off to someone else.

“In my name?” Mia asks. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a college fund,” Drew explains. “To help pay your expenses at Brown.”

Mia reddens as understanding dawns. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Ask him how much money is in it,” I tell her.

“Oh, no. My God, anything’s fine. I’m serious. You shouldn’t have done it. Really.”

Ellen takes Mia’s hand and looks into her eyes. “There’s a hundred thousand dollars in it, Mia. And you deserve every penny.”

Mia blinks in disbelief. Then her free hand starts to shake, and a tear escapes her eye. “I’ve got to tell my mom. Oh God…oh, my God.” She leans forward and hugs Drew and Ellen at the same time. “Do you mind if I find my mom and tell her?”

“Go,” Ellen says. “Happy graduation.”

Mia walks away dumbfounded. As her petite form recedes into the crowd, I follow her with my eyes. Just before she disappears, she turns back and finds me. Her gaze is long and open, her eyes speaking to me as though there’s no space between us. I raise my hand and open it in a motionless farewell.

Very slowly, she shakes her head and mouths the words, Thank you.

And then she’s gone.

When I turn back to Drew and Ellen, only Drew is there. He’s watching me with an empathy that raises the hair on my neck.

“You understand now,” he says. “Don’t you?”

I look away, but he takes my arm and squeezes hard.

“Maybe a little,” I say softly.

He shakes his head, then puts his arm around me. “Let’s find the kids.”

We stroll through the familiar crowd, two former golden boys tarnished by the years. A few people smile and shake our hands, but more nod in silence as we pass. That’s all right. I can live with my choices. Drew will have a harder time living with his, but what do people want him to do? Kill himself?

“Look,” he says, pointing.

Thirty yards away, two slim figures about four feet tall walk slowly along the track that runs around the football