An American Tune: A Novel

1 “Turn, Turn, Turn”

11 “Turn, Turn, Turn” “Is that the college, honey?” her mother asked, as they turned off the highway toward Bloomington and a big limestone structure came into view. “Mom, Jeez. That’s the football stadium.” Jane’s father gave a sharp glance to the back seat, but her mother just chattered on. “Janey, do you have the map? Do you know where we’re going?” Jane said the name of her dorm and her mother listened, pointing out street signs, as Jane read from the directions that had been included in her housing packet. It was Mrs. Barth’s way not to acknowledge bad behavior but, instead, respond to the rudeness with exaggerated politeness that made Jane simultaneously furious and ashamed. The truth was, Jane didn’t know much more about college than her mother did. She had set her heart on it long ago, in the first grade when the thrill of words revealing themselves, unlocking stories , had made her decide she would be a teacher when she grew up. But now that it was actually happening, she felt half-sick with dread. She’dneverbeenawayfromhome,exceptforovernightswithfriends and one miserable week at church camp when she was twelve. What if she got homesick? What if she hated her roommate–or worse, her roommate hated her? What if her roommate was rich, and Jane was 1 12 An American Tune embarrassed by all she didn’t have? The five dollars allowance her motherhadpromisedtosendeveryweekwouldcoveronlythebarest expenses, and it would be awful to add embarrassment to the mix of guilt and resentment she knew she’d feel every time she opened up the envelope and found it here. She should have let them talk her into going to the university extension at home, she thought, where most of the people from her high school went if they were ambitious enough to want to go to college. She should have been grateful for the opportunity to get any kind of education at all. But she had wanted more, even though she knew going away to college meant that her mother would have to work extra hours at the A&P, where she stood on her feet all day, checking out groceries. Her father would have more cause to stop at the Red Star Tavern each night after work and drink himself quietly, purposefully, into oblivion. It had been a quiet, awkward trip, the air heavy with all they did not know how to say. Still, Jane felt the weight of her parents’ love for her when her father turned the radio to a station that played the music she liked without her having to ask, and in her mother’s determined cheerfulness, in the way she fussed over whether Jane had remembered to bring the stamps she’d bought for her and the roll of quarters for her washing. Her sisters, Amy and Susan, huddled near her in the back seat the whole way. Twelve and thirteen, they were sweet, spindly girls with white-blond hair. They’d learned muteness, too. Her brother, Bobby, had simply avoided the situation. When everything was loaded and they were ready to leave, he slid out from underneath the junker he was working on in the driveway, bid Jane a gruff goodbye, then slid right back under it again. They passed the dorms on Fee Lane and then the new business building, where the street T-ed at the old brick stadium. “Okay, turn left here,” Jane said, and they passed more dorms, a little shopping area. “Now right. That’s it, there. The first tall one.” There were cars parked every which way, their trunks open. Suitcases , stereos, bicycles scattered on the sidewalk. Skateboarders clattereddownthelittle hillfromthe dining hall:tannedgirlsin raggedy cut-offwheatjeans,theirlonghairflying,dodgingfranticparentsgiv- 13 “Turn, Turn, Turn” ing last-minute instructions to daughters who, momentarily, would be free do whatever they pleased. Jane left her family standing on the sidewalk and, trying to look confident, headed toward the registration table to get her room assignment and pick up her key. There were signs welcoming the new freshmen and student guides to offer help and advice. One of them, a girl named Cindy, guided Jane through registration, then snagged a rolling luggage cart and followed to help unload her belongings. She was tongue-tied by the girl’s friendly questions about her hometown, her major, her hobbies, embarrassed by the inept introduction she made when they reached her...