Read Online My Latest Grievance by Elinor Lipman - Free Book Online

B.Y.O.B."
    If I were charting the course of my acquaintance with Laura Lee, here was where the graph took its first dip. I said, "Not that I agree with the rule, but you might consider having your glass of wine before you come here."
    "And that's okay? Drinking in the dorm? When anyone could be having a crisis any minute? These kids can smell alcohol a mile away, or so I'm told."
    Would I ever have a clean, simple, pleasant conversation with an adult? Question, answer, question, answer, your day, my day, the weather, the Sox, good-bye.
    "Does everyone call you Frederica?" she asked.
    I said yes, here they did.
    "But elsewhere?"
    "Some people call me Freddie..."
    Laura Lee broke a piece from her roll, abandoned it, dusted off her fingertips. "Why do you say that as if it's a confession? Do your parents object to the nickname? Do you want to be called Frederica or Freddie?"
    I said, "Both. Either"
    "Well, here's a test: When you leave home and go away to school, will you introduce yourself by your proper name or your nickname?"
    I said, "I'll see what comes flying out of my mouth when I get there."
    A student approached our table, but before she could set her tray down, Laura Lee held up her hand. "I hope you don't mind, Claire, but Frederica wants me to herself. I promise that I'll extend the same courtesy to you anytime you need my full attention.
D'accord
?"
    Claire didn't retreat. Laura Lee said, "I understand, I truly do: You're thinking that the dining room is a place for communal meals, come one, come all, aren't you? I've disappointed you."
    "It's cool," said Claire.
    I waited for Claire to be out of earshot before saying, "The dining hall rule is that empty chairs are empty chairs. You're not supposed to discourage anyone from sitting down. That leads to tables becoming little cliques. Besides, her parents pay a lot of money for room and board."
    "What about privacy? Where does one carve out a sanctuary if one lives, works, sleeps, and dines at Dewing College?" asked Laura Lee.
    One doesn't, I thought. One doesn't live in a dormitory or eat in a cafeteria if one is seeking privacy. And this was the teeming Curran Dining Hall, always a few tables short of ideal social groupings.
    She leaned over and said, "Twice so far in our rather short conversation you've called me on the rules. Do you feel that living in an ivory tower is suffocating?"
    I asked, "Do I look like I'm suffocating? I'm here, all by myself. I can sit anywhere, with anyone, have five desserts, talk about whatever I feel like talking about."
    She poured another inch of wine and took a sip before asking a little too serenely, "And what did you hope to discuss when you put your tray down at my table?"
    I said, "I didn't have a plan. Honest. I saw it was you, so I stopped."
    She studied me as I drank half a glass of milk, then asked, "Who do you look like? I don't see your mother at all."
    "No one."
    "Remind me how old you are," she said.
    "Sixteen."
    "What sixteen-year-old," she asked, "wouldn't have gotten right to the point?"
    I asked what point that was.
    She leaned closer to confide, "Don't you think the reason you put your tray down on my table was so that you could interview, investigate, scrutinize, drink in, the woman who used to be married to your father?"
    "You were eating alone," I said weakly. "You're new. I'm famous for being sociable."
    "Which I suspect is the result of being raised communally: all for one and one for all, like on a kibbutz."
    I skidded my chair backward and asked if she wanted anything. I was going up for a brownie before they disappeared. It was pretty much their best dessert. She said no thanks, then touched my forearm as I passed her chair. "When you come back? We'll talk about something comfortable, neutral. What might that be? Your friends? Your love life?"
    I took my time, put both ice cream and whipped cream on my brownie, detoured to the salad bar for pineapple chunks and coconut flakes.
    Laura Lee smiled warmly when I