Chapter 35
Two weeks into the winter term, Colin purchased a Trek FX hybrid bike with flat-bar handles and Shimano drive-train and disc brakes.
With Roland’s assistance, he also attended a series of driver’s ed tutorials with a private instructor.
Once he had his official DMV learner’s permit, he joined Roland and Celeste at family court so his attorney could request a special dispensation allowing Colin to obtain a full driver’s license seven months early.
The judge clearly knew both Roland and Celeste, and in Colin’s mind had already accepted the reasoning as valid.
Just the same, the procedure took over an hour, and the judge insisted on Colin taking the stand.
Sitting the driver’s test and obtaining his full license only happened because Roland pulled strings and then escorted him to the after-hours exam, which was handled personally by the DMV’s manager.
The following Saturday, Mira took him car shopping.
She and Lucas were back to take part in a family wedding. Her gaiety over spending a weekend with her beau seemed forced to Colin, but he knew better than to ask questions. What she wanted him to know, she would tell him. And apparently Mira didn’t want him to know anything at all.
During her months away Colin thought she had matured in numerous subtle ways. Her gaze seemed deeper, her mannerisms more womanly. Colin thought she was growing into the most beautiful lady he had ever seen, and said so.
Even her response to this was different. “You know what they say about beauty being only skin deep.”
“Not with you,” he replied. “Not ever.”
She stopped for a light and gazed at him. “You are still my second best friend.”
But the words threatened tears. He could see the effort required to crimp her face tight, blink fiercely, and move through the green light. Colin watched them pass their destination and ventured, “You’ve gone too far.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Mira, the dealership is vanishing in your rearview mirror.”
“Oh, pooh.” She was recovered now, and smiling. “You don’t want some boring old Buick.”
“Mira …” He watched her pull into the Porsche dealership on New Center Drive. “What are we doing here?”
“What you said, silly.” She did not rise from her Volkswagen so much as bound. “Buying you some wheels.”
It was so nice seeing her resume the joyful near-dance that had defined their early times together. A cluster of salesmen inside the glass-fronted showroom watched her skip over to a cobalt blue Macan GTS, where she announced, “Colin Eames, meet the new love of your life.”
“Mira, no.”
“Why? Don’t you absolutely love this?”
“For you, maybe. For me, never. Not in a million years.”
“How did you possibly age into a boring old fuddy-duddy while I was away?”
The fact that two salesmen were approaching made his face flame. “Let’s review this. You’re suggesting I buy a … how much is it, anyway?”
She pretended to squint at the sticker. “A lot.”
“What do you think would happen if I get stopped by a police officer, with a one-of-a-kind court-issued specialty license, driving this?”
She waved that aside. “With this car, you’ll outrun them, silly.”
“Mira, please, no. Let’s go, okay?”
She pouted the entire way back to the Buick dealership, then slouched against the side door. “I’ll just wait out here and mope, thank you very much.”
They had exactly what Colin wanted. He knew because he had searched their website, then phoned three days earlier and put down a cash reserve on this very car.
The Encore was the smallest version of the car Celeste had been driving all those eons ago.
It was silver with faux pale-doeskin interior and a modest 1.
4-liter four-cylinder engine. Colin thought it was perfect.
Mira declared it ideal for her aged grandmother and then complained when she was drawn inside because the purchase required her direct involvement.
The salespeople wanted her confirmation that the buyer’s court-issued license was indeed valid, and the insurance documents he had already obtained through Roland’s office were not bogus.
Mira followed him back to the academy, beeping her horn and waving one arm out the window at how slow he took the streets.
She then joined him and slouched down far enough to keep anyone she might know from ever seeing her in what she had already named a snoozefest on wheels.
They ate Italian at one of the Mayfaire restaurant’s outdoor tables and talked about nothing of importance.
For the return journey Mira flipped her sweater over her head, knotted it under her chin, and declared that only a babushka would be happy the way Colin drove.
It was the happiest outing he had experienced in a very long time.
Three weeks later, Colin entered the UNCW academic dean’s office. “Professor Fremdt said you wanted to see me?”
“Come sit down.” But Dean Sykes didn’t wait for him to settle into the chair to demand, “What’s this about your wanting to audit music classes at Chapel Hill?”
“I need a better understanding of structure.”
“You mean music theory.”
“I guess.”
“Where are you going with this?”
Fremdt had asked him the same thing. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Are you interested in composing?”
“No. Definitely not.” When the dean sat there observing him with that crystal grey gaze of hers, he went on, “I’ve done a little studying on my own. The Cartesian system of graphs was used to represent music before it was introduced into geometry. There are a lot of possible areas of overlap.”
“Math applied to music.”
“More like calculus. Logic systems and their relationship to harmonics.” Colin had struggled the same way in his discussion with Fremdt. “Sorry. I’m just getting started. I don’t have anything completely formulated yet.”
She inspected handwritten notes on her desk. “He also mentioned your wanting to attend their graduate-level classes in software design.”
Colin nodded. “Looking at how artificial intelligence systems might be applied to musical structures.”
Dean Sykes’s smile did not actually reach her lips. But it was clearly there just the same. “I see. Or rather, I understand enough.”
“Is something funny?”
She lined up her pen in parallel to the page holding her notes. “In a way. Professor Fremdt called me because he wanted to be certain you were assigned to him as a doctoral candidate. Now that I’ve heard your proposal, I can well understand Fremdt’s sense of urgency.”
“I’m nowhere near ready to present a thesis proposal.”
“Young man, it may interest you to know that previously I served as assistant academic dean at Chapel Hill. I have interviewed any number of would-be grad students whose thesis concepts were less well formulated.” She leaned back, steepled her fingers.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. I will speak with my former associates in Chapel Hill.
You will of course need to be interviewed. … How will you travel?”
“I have a driver’s license. And a car.” When Dean Sykes frowned over his records, he added, “The court made an exception.”
“So you have been planning on this step for some time.”
“Hoping, more like.”
The news seemed to please her. “In that case, I will make the necessary introductions at their schools for music and software engineering—”
“Can you please not tell them what I want to do?”
She looked up, her gaze tightening to laser intensity. “Something tells me you are far more advanced in your aims than you let on.”
Colin decided not to respond.
“I see. Very well. Fremdt will remain your supervisor. Be forewarned; as you continue, Chapel Hill may insist you be counted among their own graduate students. But for the moment we will adjust your records to show you are now working toward two degrees simultaneously. And I hereby offer a provisional approval to your multidisciplinary thesis.” Another flash of ferocious intensity.
“We are granting you a highly unusual level of autonomy, Mr. Eames. Not to mention bending any number of rules. Do not let us down.”
That winter and spring passed in a series of overlapping experiences.
Colin held to his morning swims, at least twice each week, sometimes three, rarely four.
He grew taller, but not by much, and held to a slender build that most resembled his mother’s.
He would never develop his father’s bullish strength.
But he could feel his body growing stronger and fitter.
Every time he needed to buy new clothes to suit his changing body, Colin took it as a minor triumph.
His monthly chats with Celeste were often little more than perfunctory hellos.
He spoke occasionally with Mira, but she seemed perpetually distracted.
Stressed by matters she did not want to discuss.
She claimed to be busy with a project and too overwhelmed to see him, even talk for long on the phone.
Roland became involved in a major court case, and they only managed a few rushed phone calls.
Finally, one Saturday in late May Colin found Regina sunning herself at the pool and asked what was going on.
But the woman gave Colin a Latina’s version of a sphinx. “There are times,” she replied, “when a mother is obliged to say nothing. Mostly because that’s the best description of what she knows for certain. Nothing.”
“Where is Lucas?”
“That is part of the nothing I’m not going to talk about.” Regina smiled. “See how easy that is?”
“I don’t like being shut out like this.”
She laughed. “Mi querido chico, you and I have that much in common.”