Once Brian stopped giving Trevor driving lessons, the brothers scarcely saw each other. Trevor worked on Angelina’s enterprises, made his deliveries without incident, and hung around Angelina’s place, when he wasn’t “inna-inna-cumma-cumma-uyni-cadda-co.”
Before “bringing the outside in,” Angelina’s architect had taught Trevor how to outfit his little cabin to keep its inside sounds in. Because while Brian continued to chop wood for Angelina’s tourist families, Trevor practiced ragga songs with Hailey’s brothers, who knew digital—Leon (keyboard and bass) and Marvin (drums) —for hours every afternoon.
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After work now, Carla undid her dark, shiny hair and danced around in her underwear. She was seemingly always ready with ardor and eager to meld. She no longer mentioned Trevor. Instead, she praised everything Brian said or did.
Finally Brian said, “Please, stop. It only makes me think that you think I need a boost. Like I’m gonna die if I don’t win the popularity contest.”
He looked up, checking her expression. “Don’t get me wrong, Carla. I love you for trying.”
Her eyes were already brimming, and Brian said, “Don’t cry. Forget I said anything. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” After their love-making, when Carla was listening to Brian’s heartbeat, she asked, “Why can’t you take your due? You’ve saved Trevor’s life from day one. You’re a smart, decent man, Brian, who’s a lot more fun than you realize.”
He smiled hard, repressing queasiness. No way was Brian a fun spirit. “Carla, let’s not talk about Trevor. Just you and me.”
The next morning, after giving his WesternCiv lecture, a sallow-faced, wide-hipped girl handed him a note. For the first time in years, his advisor, Professor Pat (Patricia) Cluny, wished to see him. Brian had been waiting for her to fire him. He hadn’t submitted a thesis idea since taking up with Carla. He couldn’t name a single student from this year or any other, unless you counted Carla.
Entering the waiting room, he immediately encountered Professor Cluny and shook her hand. With a hush-hush demeanor she quickly issued him into her office. Professor Cluny, who wore her colorless hair in a tight, elegant twist, pulled at lace-edged cuffs and removed her glasses, which obscured mildly protuberant but not unattractive green eyes. “This proposal you’re working on with Angelina, who used to be my friend Nancy, until this fabulous young mystic came up with what’s so obviously her rightful name…Well, with you in on the ground floor for reviving the old Black Mountain College, it’s so exciting I can hardly breathe. Think how it’ll affect the university, the state, our entire legacy!”
Brian nodded, he hoped enthusiastically, although his neck hairs bristled in alarm. He had heard of the Black Mountain College. He knew Angelina’s grandparents and John Cage had worked there. Still, he realized he had an opening here.
“You know, the inspiring young man you mentioned—Trevor’s my brother.”
“He told me that,” the professor said. “His ideas for a colony of avant-garde architects, musicians, dancers—all depends upon you two working symbiotically.”
“Of course.”
“Now that I look at you, Brian, it strikes me that you and Trevor could be fortuitous business partners. You’re bigger and more grounded. When my only reservation about your brother was his flightiness.”
Pat Cluny, the chair of sociology, had always behaved sternly. Today was a revelation. Of course, Trevor had spun people in their tracks before.
“Trevor and I make a great team,” Brian said, blushing as if on fire. Exiting her office, Brian succumbed to an unnecessary curiosity. “Did Trevor give you a new name, Professor?”
“He suggested, ‘Kaya,’ since I’m a professor and it means enlightenment.” She tugged at her sleeves and readjusted her glasses. “Of course, I’m not like Angelina, whose friends can accept whatever’s true. Some faculty members might not want to go along.” “In time, then,” Brian said. “A little more time.”
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