“The last refuge of the boring upper middle class. I mean, that and med school, but at least doctors help people.”
“When they’re not playing grab-ass with the nurses.”
“Somebody’s a cynic.”
“If you’re not a cynic you’re not paying attention.”
He wondered if he’d gone too far, but she laughed.
She was from Massachusetts. Didn’t know what to make of Virginia. “It’s funny down here, especially for a woman. They don’t want you to be too smart.”
“Even in law school?”
“Especially in law school. Sometimes it’s obvious. There’s one professor, married, kids, big name. Three days after I got here I heard about him, the girl grapevine. Make sure his office door is open if you go in. Don’t ever ever meet with him after hours or have a drink with him. Like, maybe he wouldn’t actually rape you, but he’d definitely get handsy and hope for more.”
“The girl grapevine? Is that a thing?”
“Definitely a thing. Not always bad, though.”
Brian thought of the way he’d worked through half his apartment building in Seattle. “So one bad apple.”
She laughed. “He wasn’t the only one. Plus, these bow-tied lions of the South”—liaaans of the Saawth, she exaggerated the accent—“guys who were old twenty years ago, they think they’re doing us a favor when they ask us the easy questions and give the men the tough ones. They think we’re all here hoping to meet guys, get our Mrs. degrees.”
“You’re not?”
She slapped his hand, not quite playfully, a warning. “What about you? You like it?”
“Down here? I mean, it does feel different. Sometimes I think I’m not in on the joke, sometimes I think they’re not.”
“You really this polite, or is there some body-snatcher thing happening?”
“Exactly. Also, there’s some weird black-white calculus going on all the time that only people born down here can follow. Like, they call the Civil War the War of—”
“Northern Aggression.” Rebecca laughed. “I didn’t believe it when I heard that the first time.”
“They’re not totally kidding when they say that.”
“They’re not kidding at all.”
“Then again, it’s beautiful and people do seem more relaxed.”
“You mean the girls are easy.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. I see them in the bars, Oh Trev, not another shot, Ahhm so drunk, Ah don’t know what I’ll do. What if my skirt just falls right off?”
“Trev and Trip—”
“And Thurston.”
“Come on.”
“Truth, my class has a Thurston. Thurston Randall Jr. I swear. He’s like Virginia gentry, he has the most perfect blond hair. Whenever I see him I think he belongs on a horse. In a Polo ad. In Massachusetts I’d be sure he was gay, but down here I don’t think so. He’s just bred.”
“So you don’t like it?”
“Yet in some weird way I do. Like you can complain everyone is so polite, but what’s wrong with that? Boston, somebody knocks you over on the street and then yells, F you, outta my way. Folks in Southie will stab each other for the last chocolate frosted at Dunkin’.”
“Southie?”
“South Boston. Yeah, everybody hates everybody in Boston.”
* * *
The waitress, who was somewhere between middle-aged and you really shouldn’t spend so much time on your feet, cleared out her plate. “Dessert?”
“Apple pie?” Rebecca said.
The waitress tilted her head, a slight but definite negation.
“Pecan?”
“Great choice. Coffee, hons?”
They nodded and she tottered off.
“Wonder what’s wrong with the apple pie,” Brian said.
“You caught that too.”
“Oh yeah, she did not want you going near it.”
They grinned at each other. Hey, you’re all right.
When the bill came, she insisted on splitting it. Brian was smart enough not to argue. Or maybe not. He noticed the slightest hesitation when he agreed and she reached for her bag. Maybe living down here had gotten her used to freebies from the guys.
“Next time I’m paying,” he said.
Which, honestly, was a little ridiculous. She must have way more money than he did. She was the one in law school. But whatever.
Still, they had a good night. Not just a good night, a nice night, and nice wasn’t usually a word Brian used for his dates. He almost wanted to ask her back to his apartment. He made himself wait. Not because he was sure she would say no. Because he didn’t want her to say yes. He wanted to have to work for this one. An unexpected feeling.
Instead he put his hands to her face, kissed her once, and asked for her number. She gave it to him but didn’t ask for his—If you want me, you’ll have to call.