For an instant he felt the lump in his throat again, and then with a sharp laugh, he whispered, almost to himself, “I'll try.”
When Harry returned from Europe in the fall he was deeply tanned, and happy and rested. He had followed his father everywhere, to Monaco, to Italy, to Madrid for a few days, Paris, New York. It had been the whirlwind life again, the life he had felt so left out of as a boy, but suddenly there was a place reserved in it for him. Pretty women, lovely girls, galas, endless concerts and parties and social events. He was actually tired of it when he finally got on the plane in New York and flew west. Tana met him at the Oakland airport, and she looked reassuringly as she had before. She looked healthy and brown, her blond mane flying in the wind, she had loved her summer job, gone to Malibu for a few days with some friends she'd made at work, and she was talking about going to Mexico over the holidays, and when law school began, they were constantly together, yet apart. She would drop him off at the library, but her classes were different from his. She seemed to be making new friends now. With Harry out of the hospital, she had more free time, and the survivors of the first-year grind seemed to stick together now. It was a healthier arrangement than they'd had before, and by Christmas whenever she saw Harry at school he was always with the same girl, a pretty, petite blond girl from Australia, named Averil. She seemed to be Harry's shadow. She was studying for a master's degree in art, but she seemed far more interested in following Harry around everywhere, and he didn't seem to object to it. Tana tried to be nonchalant the first time Averil emerged from his room on a Saturday morning and suddenly all three of them laughed nervously.
“Does this mean you guys are kicking me out?” Tana laughed nervously.
“Hell no, you jerk. There's room for all of us.” And by the end of Harry's first year, she was living with them. She was actually adorable, shared the chores, was cheerful, pleasant, helpful, she was so sweet she made Tana nervous sometimes, particularly when she had exams, but on the whole the arrangement worked out perfectly. She flew to Europe with Harry that summer to meet Harrison, and Tana worked in the same law firm again. She had promised her mother that she would come East, but she was looking for every possible excuse not to go, and was spared a lie when Arthur had another heart attack, a mild one this time, but her mother took him to Lake George to rest, and promised to come out to see Tana in the fall. But Tana knew what that meant by now. She and Arthur had flown out once the year before, and it was nightmarish. She was “revolted” by the house they shared, “shocked” that she and Harry were still living under one roof, and she would be even more so now when she discovered that they had added another girl. Tana laughed at the thought. She was obviously beyond hope, and the only consolation was that Ann had gotten divorced again, through no fault of hers, of course. John had actually had the nerve to walk out on her, and was having a flagrant affair with her best friend. So all was not entirely wholesome anywhere these days … poor Ann … Tana smiled at the thought.
Tana actually enjoyed her summer alone that year. She loved Harry and Averil, too, but there was so much pressure on her with law school, that it was nice to be alone now and then. And she and Harry seemed to fight about politics all the time these days. He continued to support the war in Vietnam, and she became crazed when the subject came up at all, as Averil would try desperately to keep the peace. But Harry and Tana had known each other for too long. After six years, they no longer felt they had to be polite and the language they threw at each other made Averil cringe, although he would never have spoken that way to her, nor she to him. Averil was a far gentler soul than Tana was. Tana had been on her own for a long time. And at twenty-four, she was powerful and unafraid, and sure of her own ideas. She had a long, strong stride, and eyes that did not shy from anything or anyone. She was curious about everything around her, definite about what she thought, and courageous enough to say it to anyone. It got her into trouble sometimes, but she didn't mind. She liked the discussions that arose like that. And when she registered for school that year—hallelujah her last, she thought to herself with a grin—she found herself in the midst of a lengthy conversation in the cafeteria. There were at least eight or nine people talking heatedly about Vietnam, as usual, and she was quick to leap into it, as she always did. It was the subject she felt strongest about, because of Harry of course, no matter how he chose to feel, she had her own ideas, and Harry wasn't there anyway. He was off somewhere with Averil, probably, copping a quick feel before class, as Tana teased him often enough. The two of them seemed to spend most of their life in bed, challenging his “creativity,” which seemed to pose no problem at all. But Tana was deep in the ideologies of Vietnam and not thinking of Harry specifically as she spoke that day, and was surprised to find herself sitting next to someone even more radical than she. He had a wild mane of tightly curled black hair that sprang from his head almost angrily, sandals, blue jeans, a turquoise T-shirt, strangely electric blue eyes, and a smile that tore at something deep inside of her. When he stood up, every muscle seemed to ripple through his flesh, and everything about him seemed oddly sensual, and she had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch his arm, hanging so near to her.
“Do you live nearby?” She shook her head. “I didn't think I'd seen you here before.”
“I usually hang out in the library. Third year law.”
“Man.” He looked impressed. “That's tough.”
“You?”
“The master's program in political science, what else?” They both laughed. He had chosen well anyway, and he followed her to the library where she left him regretfully. She liked his ideas and he was strikingly beautiful, and she knew instantly that Harry wouldn't approve of him. He had very square ideas these days, especially with Averil around. It was something Tana knew about them both and it didn't bother her. Harry could have grown ferns on his head and sprouted horns, and she would have loved him anyway. He was her brother by then, and Averil was a part of him, so she accepted that. Most of the time, she tried not to discuss politics with them. It made things easier.
And she was intrigued to see her new friend making a speech on campus a few days later, about the same issues they had discussed. It was an impassioned, brilliant confrontation of the mind and she told him as much when she saw him afterwards. She knew by then that his name was Yael McBee. It was a funny name, but he was not a funny man. He was brilliant and intense and his anger reached out almost like a lash to touch those he wished to reach She admired his skill in addressing crowds, and she went to see him several more times that fall, before he finally asked her out to dinner one night. They each paid their share, and went back to his apartment to talk afterwards. There were at least a dozen people living there, some of them on mattresses, and it didn't have the neat, well-polished air of the cottage which Harry and Tana and Averil shared. She would, in fact, have been embarrassed to bring Yael there. It was too bourgeois, too sweet, almost too foreign to him. And she liked visiting him where he lived. She felt uncomfortable at home anyway these days. Averil and Harry were always making love or hiding out, going in his room and closing the door. She wondered how he got any studying done at all, and yet she knew he did from the look of his grades, which were surprisingly good. But it was more fun being with Yael and his friends, and when Harry flew to Switzerland at Christmastime, and Averil flew home, Tana finally invited Yael to come and see her. And it was odd to see him in the tidy little house, without his strident friends around. He had worn a deep green turtle- neck and his well-worn jeans. He had military combat boots, although he had served a year in jail for refusing to be drafted and go to Vietnam. They sent him to a prison in the Southwest, and paroled him after a year.