An American Tune: A Novel

4 “Tomorrow Never Knows”

55 “Tomorrow Never Knows” Pete had tacked a hand-painted sign on the porch of the old farmhouse : “Land of a Thousand Dances,” though it was the Beatles’ Revolver that he played over and over again. Right now, it was “Here, There and Everywhere.” Next would be “Yellow Submarine,” Jane knew. Then “Tomorrow Never Knows.” It creeped her out, that song. ShewantedJamesBrownorWilsonPickett.TheStones,theAnimals. Wild music to dissolve the last of the summer’s unhappiness. But Revolver was the only thing Pete wanted to listen to–and he was paying the rent on the party house, so it played constantly, always at full blast. He had enough money to rent the house in addition to paying for his room at the fraternity because his parents’ estrangement had reached an all-time high and, unbeknownst to one another, each had given him full tuition and housing money for the fall. Jane did not know whether to feel sorry for Pete, whom Bridget said actually longed for his parents’ attention, or feel envious of how their selfabsorption gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted to do. She loved Pete because Bridget did, and cared about him, but did not know how to think about the sense of entitlement he felt about the benefits of his parents’ competition over him or about the thoughtless remarks he made that sometimes cut her to the quick. 4 56 An American Tune “Hey,” he said, bragging about the money scam. “It’s a game. Parentswanttocontrolyouonewayoranother .That’swhereit’sat.Look how stingy your parents are,” he said to Jane. “What do you think that’s about?” Janeshrugged.Ifshehadsaid,“They’renotstingy;there’snothing towithhold,”hewouldn’thavebelievedit.Hecouldn’thavefathomed the certainty with which she knew her parents would give her anything in the world she wanted, if only they could. Or understood that shelovedthem,desperately,butnolongerknewhowtobewiththem. Just thinking about her parents made her feel weepy and she regretted , again, the distance between them and how it had deepened after her lie about the weekend was revealed. They hadn’t even argued when she said she’d decided to take the Greyhound bus back to Bloomington, her belongings packed in cardboard cartons. Still, it was so good to be back. Tom had surprised her at the station with the new MG his father had bought him at the end of the summer. Robins’ egg blue, with a roll bar that his father, an engineer, had designed to keep him safe in case the little convertible turned over. Then surprised her again with news of Pete’s farmhouse. As they pulled into the gravel drive of the farmhouse on that first day, Bridgetappearedinanupstairswindow.BythetimeTomhadparked next to Pete’s Corvette, she was flinging herself off the porch, running to embrace Jane and dance her around the yard. She wore old, ripped-upcutoffsandagrimyteeshirt.Herhairwaspulledbackwith a bandana. She smelled of sweat and ammonia. “I know. I’m disgusting,” she said, finally letting Jane go. “But I can’t help it. I’m so glad to see you. So glad to be back. I’ve been cleaning ever since I got here yesterday. God. This place is so gross. I actually found a perfect little skeleton of a mouse in the front closet. Ugh.” She made a face. “But, Jane! It’s going to be so groovy when we fix it up!” “We’ve got our own room,” Tom said, reclaiming her, pulling her close. “It’ll be just like it was this summer, at Pete’s. Only we won’t have to go home.” Ifherparentsknew, Janeoftenthoughtintheweeksthatfollowed. Buttheywouldn’tknow.Thehouse,herwholeworld,wasunimaginable to them. She wrote each week, mainly to avoid talking to them on 57 “Tomorrow Never Knows” thephone.Cheerylettersaboutherclasses,howprettyitwasoncampus now that the leaves were turning, how life with her new roommate , Bridget, was going just fine. Her mother wrote back, her letters full of Bobby, passing along his news from Marine boot camp. Each with a worn five-dollar bill folded into it that pierced Jane’s heart. Neither Tom nor Bridget knew exactly what had happened the night she returned from Indianapolis. She’d written to them about Bobby’s accident, but not about what had happened with her mother. Bridget would have defended her. Tom would have insisted on driving up to help her set things right. He’d insist on it right now if she told him, a prospect that sent her into a panic...