I understood she was simply trying to prepare me for a great disappointment. It was loving concern, like putting a bandage on before you even hurt yourself, but I didn't want to be one of those people who turned bitter and turned an their own dreams. I wouldn't be like the famous fox in the fox and the gapes fable, the one who couldn't reach the grapes and so declared them sour anyway.
There was nothing sour about having an opportunity in New York City. I would always dream of it, even if it was beyond my reach.
The days seemed to fall away quickly until graduation. All of my fellow students, including the ones who put on the biggest faces of bravado, bragging how far they were getting away from this "dull and boring place," suddenly started to look more like soldiers about to enter battle. Now their faces were full of anxiety, trepidation, and worry. The jokes, the songs, the pounding of the breast and defiance drifted out of our conversations.
The great clock was ticking. It would soon bong the hour when we would be cut away from the big boats that had protected and carried us so far. We would be out there, drifting on our own, making our own course, and either crashing on the rocks, into the obstacles, or sailing faster into the success that awaited us. Not knowing made cowards of us all, put the child back into our faces, the tension back into our eyes, lowered our voices, quickened our smiles, sped our tender hearts.
For Chandler and me, there was an added reality. Time wasn't just ticking on our childhood, it was ticking on our budding romance. He was scheduled to leave for an early orientation and had decided to start with some summer courses. Despite all of
our urgent and firm pronouncements of love for each other, we couldn't help but wonder and be anxious about the days of separation, the great distances between us, the direction our new lives would take. It shadowed our every move, every word, every phone call, every embrace and kiss.
On the Thursday before graduation ceremonies, the phone rang just before noon. Mommy answered and called me with a cry that at first frightened me. What new terrible event had occurred? My first thought ran to Chandler and his family. but Mommy wasn't looking gloomy when I bounced down the stairs and turned to her and the phone.
"It's Mr. Wengrow," she said breathlessly. "You've been accepted. He wants to congratulate. you."
She held the receiver toward me. For a moment I couldn't move. It was as if I was being handed the torch to carry for so many people, the torch to bring them out of the darkness and into the light Mommy had wished and prayed for so many times.
She shook it impatiently.
I lunged forward, took it, and brought it to my ear. "Mr. Wengrow?"
"Congratulations, Honey. You beat out some of the country's best. Madame Senetsky was very impressed with you. I hope you understand what a wonderful opportunity this is. Well more than ninety percent of her graduates go on to successful careers and those who don't, don't because of some personal failing, not because of her schooling. You'll be receiving a packet of information in an overnight delivery. I'm very proud of you and proud to have been part of your success. Don't forget me when you become rich and famous,' he kidded.
"Oh. I won't. Mr. Wengrow. Thank you. Thank you so much," I cried.
Tears were streaming down my face so hard. I could fill a dry well.
Mommy hugged me and then we went out and hurried to the west field to tell Daddy and Uncle Simon.
"We'll celebrate. All of us. We'll go to a fancy restaurant tonight!" Daddy cried. "We'll spend so much money, Grandad will spin in his grave. Twice!"
Uncle Simon laughed. They both hugged me and I hurried back to call Chandler. He came driving over soon afterward and we went to what had become our favorite place down by the pond.
"I'm very happy for you, Honey. I knew this would happen. I just knew it."
"I didn't. I thought I was not going to get it. They were so impersonal."
"That's the theater. That's the world you're going to be in. It's better if you don't make too much of an emotional investment in your every opportunity. Get used to disappointment, rejection, defeat, and turn your back on it so you can go on."
"You sound so wise sometimes. Chandler."
"I'm just used to disappointments in a different sort of way," he said. "I hope you'll find what you want out there. Chandler."
"I will," he said. "I've already found it in you."
We kissed and held each other and looked out over the pond. Every once in a while a fish popped up or a frog splashed. The clouds in the distance spread themselves thinner and thinner, revealing more and more blue skies, more and more promise.
"You'll come to New York, won't you?"
"Sure," he said. "When you want me to come."
"I'll always want you to come to see me. Chandler." He smiled.
"I hope so."
We walked back to the house, holding hands. Mommy invited him to dinner, but he said he had to go to some dinner with his parents. He thanked her.
"Sometimes. I feel so sorry for him," Mommy said afterward. "I hope he'll be happier.'