A Song for Julia

down on the table. “It’s for you, Julia.”
    They all looked at me because they all knew who it was. No one called me on the room phone. Except my mother.
    I sighed and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
    The girls stood there, awkwardly waiting.
    “Julia, we have to talk.”
    “Mother, I’m on my way out at the moment. Can I call you in the morning?”
    “No. You cannot call me in the morning. We need to talk right now.”
    “What is it, Mom?”
    “Your father just received a call from the White House.”
    What did that have to do with me? I sighed. I couldn’t hang up on this conversation. I covered the handset and looked at my three suitemates, feeling helpless. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you guys go ahead, and I’ll catch up.”
    Linden tilted her head, a sad look on her face. “You promised! Come on.”
    “It’s my mom, I gotta talk with her. I promise I’ll be there. I mean it.”
    The three of them filed out, and I was sure they thought I wouldn’t be there.
    I intended to keep my promise.
    “Okay, Mom, I can talk now. What’s going on?”
    “Julia, listen to me. In two weeks, the United Nations is sending a special team of diplomats to Iraq. They’re to accompany the weapons inspectors and possibly negotiate a settlement. Your father has been asked by the President to be part of the team.”
    “Oh, my God, Mom, that’s amazing!”
    “It is. Even though he’s technically retired—this could be the cap of your father’s career Julia. And that’s why I’m calling you now.”
    I shook my head, confused. “I don’t understand.”
    She paused, and spoke in a careful, slow tone. “I don’t know how to say this to my own daughter. But it is … it is essential that you do absolutely nothing that …”
    My stomach suddenly started turning. How. Dare. She . I felt my fingers start to ache as they tightened on the phone, and she kept talking, kept saying the horrible words I knew were about to come out of her mouth.
    “… nothing that will discredit your father. Do you understand me?”
    My reply was cold. “I understand you perfectly. ”
    “I don’t think you realize just how much your father’s career was affected by what happened in Beijing, Julia.”
    I squeezed my eyes closed, holding the phone against my head with one arm and the other arm hard across my stomach, trying to contain the sudden physical feeling of pain and revulsion.
    After a long pause, she said, “Are you there?”
    I whispered, “I’m here, Mother. I’ve always been here. But you … you never are. When I needed someone to turn to, you … weren’t … there. So don’t expect me to talk this to death now. Goodbye.”
    I gently set the phone down. Then I stared at it for almost thirty full seconds before it rang again. Closing my eyes to hold back tears, I yanked the cord out of the wall, slid up the window and threw the phone out onto the Quad.
    Screw this. I was going out, and I was going to have some fun tonight. I stomped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
    Figures. Mascara ran while I was on the phone with my mom. She was a hypocrite of the worst kind. I was done with her. I supposed I’d still go home for the holidays to see my sisters. But I wanted nothing to do with my mother. No more.
    I fixed the mascara and put it in my purse, then made sure I had my car keys. I didn’t often drive, because pretty much everything I needed was either on campus or in Harvard Square, but it was handy to have the car here. Like everything, my dad paid for the parking, plus the car, and with that money came conditions which I’d had just about enough of. I’d give up my own parking space in a heartbeat to never have to hear that contempt out of my mother’s mouth again.
    Whatever. I got in the car, a brand new 2003 Honda Civic Hybrid, and pulled out, headed to Metro. I found myself wondering if there was a way to return the car. It still smelled of new leather and carpet. It smelled of strings and disapproval.
    The Metro club is in the heart of Somerville, but by a combination of luck, a healthy bribe and pleading with the parking attendant, I was able to get a spot behind the club. So, it was a short walk back around front to the entrance. The line wasn’t that bad yet, so maybe ten minutes later I was inside the club, trying to find my suitemates.
    Inside was a mass of bodies. The show hadn’t started yet, so they were playing a mix of early nineties grunge rock. The dance floor in front of the