Sisters and Friends
Chapter 7
The Things We Do For Love
I got a call from Aunt Amy this morning- she's offered to pay for a plane ticket for me, to take a quick overnight trip to Boston. I could do it tomorrow- the Thanksgiving break starts Friday.
The idea is to soften Daria up a little, get her to just consider opening a dialog with Mom again. Things have clamped down tight lately; Daria seems to be at the point where she's cutting off contact with Mom, and by extension, Dad as well. Amy's been trying to talk to Mom, and it's classic Barksdale pighead mode. Daria and Mom are digging their heels in, and if it wasn't so damn hard on Dad and most likely Trent as well it would be comical. Stupid smart people.
Quinn gazed out the window; as the plane banked to turn she could see the regional airport not too far below, the green beltway, and then the highway that stretched around the low hills to Lawndale. People in tiny cars, flecks on the smooth greens of the Twin Trees Golf Course; specks on the sidewalks of the new housing developments.
Most would not bother to look up to see the small commuter turboprop as it climbed into the bright autumn sky, bound for Boston; a meaningless distraction as each of them played out their own personal dramas. Thousands of stories that would go unheard, a tangle of lifelines. You followed only the threads that had meaning to you; it was impossible to follow them all. You had to settle for doing what you could, what you decided what was important enough for you to spend the precious seconds that made up your human lifetime.
This was one of those things that Quinn not only had to, but wanted to do.
Aunt Amy could read her sister and her daughters well, and knew who just might be able to carry out this task.
Daria had lived in Boston now for well over a year. Quinn had made the drive up with the rest of the family, hauling her big sister's stuff to school and up to her dorm room. Quinn had loved the atmosphere at Raft; it was such a beautiful, dignified campus. One day, I'll go to a place like this too, she thought, seeing the quiet anticipation in Daria's eyes. This is your kind of place, not that pit Lawndale. You'll fit in here, you've earned it.
The last time Quinn had seen her face to face was at her graduation. Sure, they had been in touch several times a week since then, but Quinn was looking forward to actually seeing Daria again.
Aunt Amy still drove that old red Triumph Spitfire. It suited her; self-confident, iconoclastic, quirky. Daria's going to look like her when she gets older. Quinn used to think of Amy as her mother's weird sister, but to her maturing eyes Amy was cool. And really quite pretty, for an older woman.
She drove that little convertible like a bat out of hell. The top was down, and it was hard on hair, but it was exhilarating. After a circuitous route they pulled up to a modern glass tower, in the midst of what was probably the financial district of Boston. Quinn smiled as she pulled her single bag out of Amy's trunk; she noticed that there was a fair quantity of light rope for lashing a much larger piece of luggage to the tiny luggage rack on the car's trunk lid.
"Give me a call if you need me to pick you up. Sixth floor; Hanlon, Page and Myers. Jane says she's supposed to be breaking for lunch around one-thirty. Good luck."
Amy waved and merged back into the city traffic.
Quinn turned and walked into her sister's new life.
Daria's changed. She's toughened up some, and she's more self-confident and at ease with herself. She's a lot more like mom than she'd care to admit; no wonder the two of them have been butting heads. It's less like an issue between mother and daughter, but rather between two smart, stubborn women. Mom's an experienced competitor, but Daria's learning how strong she really is.
I've been talking to her as a sister, so what I've been seeing is her warmer side, without the armor. Here, though, she's a real scrapper. Promoted to an assistant editor in such a short time? Why not? She's got the intellect, and this sparring with Mom's brought out her steel.
The youngest in the office, and she's respected and admired. If you knew what you were doing and did your best, she'd probably be a great boss to work for.
Otherwise, look out.
Damn, she looks good.
It was pretty obvious that Daria was counting her pennies. She wasn't at all familiar with the area eateries; after all, she was getting by on peanut butter sandwiches and stuff like that, not wanting to spend the money that Trent earned on luxuries like decent food.
She was saving as much money as she could, hoping to scrape enough together for another term at Raft. It wasn't that her parents were refusing to pay for her tuition; rather she was walking away from their help so long as they refused to accept Trent as being good enough for her. To that end, they had refused to support her living arrangement by not providing her with the housing allowance that they had previously promised.
Trent accepted the responsibility and was paying for the place they all shared. It was his task to support Jane, and now Daria, as far as he could; he also paid for the food. It was something given without resentment; the situation was what it was, and he valued his relationship with the two women greatly.
Jane worked at the BFAC Printmaking Lab, where she pretty much ran the place. In exchange for minimum wage and a partial tuition waiver, she kept the presses clean and in good trim, the supply cabinets stocked, the etching acids and other hazardous materials under lock and key.
All together, they were getting by.
Their greatest luxury was Trent's Friday night gig, where they could enjoy some great appetizers and sneak a few drinks. Every other week the management comped their meals; the agreement was really only for Trent's dinner, but Donny, the manager, stretched it a bit when the owner wasn't in and included his girlfriend's and sister's food. For Daria, the evening was always a soothing revelation, the music that Trent created for her was like a secret diamond in a perfect setting.
Daria tried to cover Quinn's food, but Quinn insisted on paying her own way.
I think I made my point to Daria. It's not just about the fight with Mom, but the collateral damage. Trent's never complained to her, but come on, it really is not fair to him. I kind of understood why Daria has always been attracted to him, but this visit has made it plain to me how much they both mean to each other. She's lucky, he's a pretty awesome guy, and I know he's going to make it in music if he can keep up that kind of songwriting.
Talk to Mom, Sis, if only for his sake.
Mom hit the roof when I told her where I really went. I figured I should let her get over that little deception before I start working on her. Besides, Jane's sending me some scans of her sketches that might help.
God, I never realized just how good Jane is. She emailed scans of a dozen representational drawings that she did. I picked two, and she's going to mail the originals to me. One is a study of Trent, taking care of Daria who's fallen asleep studying at the kitchen table. The other was made of the two of them sitting on that old sofa, right after Daria's had it out with Mom. Daria's in tears, something you almost never see, and Trent's right there for her. Looking at it, you can tell that she's not upset about the housing money, but because Mom doesn't want her with Trent.
"Original art stands out, Quinn. The difference is clear when you hold the actual piece in your hands. Trust me on this."
They arrive on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Mom and I have been going around on this since Sunday, and I put the artwork on the table before I leave for school.
I know it's going to work. Both of them have been softened up a little. It's just a question of which one is going to make the first move. Daria's the one that feels ill treated and she's still mad. Mom… she really had Daria's best interest at heart, it's just that she went about things all wrong. I'm betting on Mom; Jane's two drawings are gonna push her over the edge.