February 12, 1964
In spite of being engaged, Rose could not bring herself to give up her dream of going to college, and at the beginning of her senior year of high school, she applied to several universities, always selecting ones that had good art programs.
Neither Cal nor her mother took her desire to be an artist seriously, but Rose did not let this deter her. In fact, their resistance to the idea encouraged her. Rose could not bring herself to be the dutiful daughter and perfect fiancée that her mother and husband-to-be expected. Instead, she found herself deliberately looking for ways to needle them, reading books that they disliked, openly supporting political causes that they opposed, and continuing to work on her art in spite of their view that she could find better things to do with her time.
Ruth was easier to annoy than Cal, Rose soon found. Cal didn’t care if she smoked—he had been the one to introduce the habit to her in the first place—and he liked rock and roll music as much as she did. He didn’t care for her taste in reading material, though, especially when she showed him her copies of the works of Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg, and would roll his eyes and make belittling remarks when she expressed the opinion that everyone deserved equal rights and opportunities.
Sometimes her inability to keep her thoughts to herself resulted in more of a reaction than she had expected—or wanted. At one dinner party Rose attended at Cal’s home, she created such outrage with a remark that the draft should be abolished that she was asked to leave. She and Cal had quarreled loudly and angrily outside after his father had asked her to leave, with Cal more embarrassed by her saying such things at society functions that by what she had actually said. Rose had stomped off to her car and driven home, half-hoping that Cal would decide to end the engagement, but the next day he had called her, wanting to see her, and had made no mention of the incident, apparently hoping that it would be forgotten if he didn’t say anything.
The worst incident, however, had occurred on Christmas Day, when Rose had unveiled a painting she had made of Kennedy in the moments before he was assassinated. Ruth had taken one look at the painting and told her she was being disrespectful. Rose didn’t see how—she had copied the picture directly from a photograph in Life magazine—and said as much. She had intended the painting as a tribute to Kennedy, who she had admired since attending his inauguration, and—though she would only admit it to herself—she’d had a bit of a crush on.
Ruth had insisted that Rose get rid of the painting, and the argument had soon turned into a shouting match, ending only when Ruth had grabbed the painting and thrown it into the fireplace. Rose had snatched it back, burning her hands in the process, and had run from the house, driving the four miles to where Jack lived with Sophia di Rossi. She had shown up at their apartment door, shaking with anger, and had told the whole story to Jack, showing him the singed painting and insisting that she was never returning home.
Jack had listened to her angry words and looked at what remained of the painting, surprised at Ruth’s actions. He hadn’t thought she’d cared that much for the deceased president, but then, the reaction of many people to the assassination had surprised him. Even people who hadn’t liked Kennedy had been in shock, and he’d been very surprised to see usually dignified adults crying when they heard the news.
He hadn’t seen anything disrespectful about Rose’s painting, though, and neither had Sophia when she’d looked at it. Rose had stayed at the apartment all day, refusing to go home, until Sophia had told her that she had to go home, whether she liked it or not, and that she couldn’t stay in the small bedroom that Jack slept in, even after Rose had argued that there was extra space now, since Fabrizio had graduated from high school in June and immediately joined the Army in hopes of being able to go to college in a few years.
After convincing Jack to keep the painting for her, Rose had reluctantly gone home, since she had no other place to go. She supposed she could have gone to Cal, but she doubted he would have been sympathetic. When she had gotten home, Ruth had met her at the door and apologized stiffly for overreacting. Rose had accepted her apology, but the bad feelings had remained.
*****
One afternoon in February, Rose sat at her desk, doing her homework and listening to a record one of her friends, Marla Brunner, had given her for Christmas. The record was by a singer named Pete Seeger, who had been blacklisted as a suspected Communist in the 1950's, making it hard to find and, as far as Rose was concerned, delightfully subversive. She had laughed inwardly when she had heard her mother humming one of the songs from the record, knowing that Ruth would take it away from her and destroy it if she knew that it was by a blacklisted singer.
Rose sang softly to herself as she worked on her English assignment, a habit that drove her mother crazy when she caught her at it. Ruth had never been able to understand how Rose could concentrate on her homework and listen to music at the same time.
"Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing? Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago…" Rose sang to herself. The song actually felt very fitting for the assignment she was working on, analyzing the symbolism of the flowers Ophelia spoke of in Hamlet. She smiled to herself as she wrote a few more sentences in her essay. The song fit her, too—after all, wasn’t she named for a flower?
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. Looking up, Rose abandoned her assignment and hurried to answer the door, heart leaping in anticipation. It was the time of day when the mail was delivered, and she was hoping for a response from the university she most wanted to go to.
Sure enough, Sophia stood at the door with an envelope in her hand. Rose took it, thanking her, then sat down on her bed, looking over the outside of the envelope, her eyes widening as she saw the return address—UC Berkeley.
It was the response she’d been waiting for. She’d applied to half a dozen universities, most of them on the east coast and reasonably close to Yale, but the one that had interested her most was in California. She had been to California several times with her family when she was younger and had loved it there, making the thought of going to college there appealing, and after Jack had told her that he was applying to UC Berkeley, her mind had been made up. She had applied, too.
Rose examined the envelope, steeling herself in case it was bad news. It was a thick envelope, like the ones she had received from other universities she had applied to, but this was the one that really mattered to her. She knew she had a good chance of getting in—she had always been a good student, receiving nearly straight A’s throughout high school, and had gotten high scores on her SATs and glowing letters of recommendation from her art teachers.
Finally, she tore open the envelope, grabbing the letter it contained and unfolding it.
Dear Miss DeWitt-Bukater,
Congratulations! You have been selected for admission for the Fall 1964 quarter at the University of California, Berkeley. Your academic profile confirms your commitment to personal and educational growth. We are confident you will make a valuable contribution to the University’s tradition of scholarship and service. This offer of admission requires that you successfully complete all current course work. You must also make arrangements for our receipt of your final high school transcript recording verification of your graduation.
Enclosed you will find an enrollment contract, along with instructions for accepting our offer of admission and completing the enrollment process. You must submit the enrollment contract on or before May 1, 1964. When you return your form, our academic advising center will contact you and assist you in preparing your schedule. I, therefore, encourage an early response.
If you are seeking on-campus residence, the enclosed housing application must be returned to the residence department. Priority for room assignments is based on the date your housing application is received by the residence department.
In response to your application for financial aid, I am pleased to inform you that we are granting you a full four-year scholarship, provided your grade point average remains at 2.5 or above.
On behalf of the entire University of California, Berkeley community, I extend a warm welcome and best wishes for your success. We appreciate your interest in the University and hope you share our enthusiasm about your future at UC Berkeley.
Sincerely,
Paul Dunbar
Admissions Director
Rose squealed in delight when she finished reading the letter. Not only had she been accepted, she had been offered a scholarship, too. She had been accepted to all the other universities she had applied to, as well, but this was the first one to offer her a full scholarship.
The thought of Cal and her upcoming wedding didn’t even enter her mind as she hurried to read the rest of the papers in the envelope.
*****
Rose could barely contain her excitement over the acceptance letter. She was smiling when she came to dinner, causing her mother to look at her suspiciously, as Rose was often more likely to sulk than to smile.
When all four of them were seated, Rose spoke up before the twins could start chattering. "I have an announcement to make."
Ruth raised an eyebrow, hoping that whatever "announcement" Rose had to make wasn’t going to embarrass the family. "What is it?" she asked, sighing.
Rose narrowed her eyes at Ruth, wishing her mother could show a little more enthusiasm, but plunged ahead anyway. "I’ve been accepted to UC Berkeley in California and will be starting there in the fall." She grinned, hardly able to keep still.
Ruth stared at her daughter disbelievingly for a moment, then shook her head. "No, you’re not."
Rose’s smile faded, but she looked at her mother determinedly. "Yes, I am. I got the acceptance letter this afternoon."
"Is Cal transferring there?"
"Not that I know of."
"Rose, you can’t go to college in California. You’re going to be married in June. Perhaps, if Cal allows it, you can go to a college close to Yale, but—"
"If Cal allows it?!" Rose slammed her fork down on the table, then took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It would do no good to get into another screaming match with her mother. "Mom, Cal has no say in the matter of whether I go to college or not. It’s my decision, not his."
"He’s going to be your husband, so yes, he does have a say in it."
"Actually, Mom, I’ve been thinking of postponing the wedding anyway. I don’t feel ready to get married yet."
"Rose…" Ruth looked at her warningly. "Your wedding is in June, and you can’t delay it at this point. Too many plans have already been made."
"Plans can be changed," Rose retorted. "You’ve certainly asked me to change enough of mine."
"Rose!" Ruth got to her feet and walked towards the door. "Come here."
"No."
"Now, Rose."
Rose knew better than to argue when her mother used that tone of voice. Reluctantly, she followed her into the living room.
When the dining room door had closed behind them, Ruth turned to her daughter. Speaking a quiet but angry voice, she told her, "This is not a game, Rose. Our situation is precarious. You know the money’s gone."
"Of course I know it’s gone! You remind me every day—and all the while you spend what little you have left as though there were plenty. You’ve been doing that ever since I got engaged."
"Your father left us nothing but bad debts."
"He left a little more than that, but you insist on—"
"You have a fine young man from a good family who wants to marry you, and you want to throw it away for some pipe dream!"
"It’s not a pipe dream, Mom! The university offered me a full scholarship. It wouldn’t cost you—or anyone else—anything to send me there. I can get a good education and have a career of my own. Then I won’t have to depend on Cal to take care of me and I won’t wind up like you!"
"Rose!" There was a catch in Ruth’s voice, and Rose knew she had hit a sore spot.
"I’m sorry, Mom." Rose paused, thinking for a moment. "Why can’t you get a job to support us? Lots of women work, and you even went to college for a year. You could get a job."
Ruth’s mouth tightened as she stared at Rose. "Doing what, Rose? There’s no way I could make enough to support this family in the way we’re used to."
"Most people don’t live this way."
"But we do, and our family has lived like this for generations. Do you want it to end here? Do you want to see your sisters having to struggle, not having the advantages you’ve had? Do you want to see everything this family owns being sold off, leaving us nothing?"
"If you got a job, Mom, there’d be more money. Dad had no trouble earning a lot, even if he did go into debt."
"Women aren’t paid nearly as much as men, Rose. I could never hope to earn enough."
"That isn’t fair. Why shouldn’t we earn as much as men if we do the same work? It isn’t right—"
"Fair or not, Rose, that’s the way it is, and complaining won’t do any good. The only way this family can become solvent again is for you to marry Cal."
"Why does it have to be on my shoulders?"
"Why are you being so selfish?"
Rose stared at her mother, her mouth hanging open in shock. "I’m being selfish?! I’m not asking you for anything. I’m not taking anything from the twins. I just want to go to college and have a life of my own. How can that be selfish?"
"This family needs you to marry well, and soon. I know you don’t find this easy, Rose, but women’s choices are never easy."
"This ‘choice’ was pushed on me. I never had a say in the matter."
"You’re not going to abandon this family like your brother did, Rose."
"Tom didn’t abandon the family! He’s serving his country! Sometimes, Mom, there are more important things than having lots of money."
Ruth sighed, shaking her head. "You’re missing the point, Rose. Now, come and finish your dinner. I’m not arguing with you anymore. You’re not going to college in California, and that’s final."
"Like hell it is." Rose glowered at Ruth.
"Rosalind DeWitt-Bukater…" Ruth grabbed Rose by the arm, dragging her towards the downstairs bathroom. "I’ve had just about enough of this! All you ever do is whine, sulk, and argue. When I make a decision, it’s final. You don’t argue with me, and you never use that kind of language!" She grabbed the bar of soap. "Open your mouth, Rose. Now."
Rose clenched her teeth and refused to open her mouth. She’d been through this before. Her mother had never tolerated any kind of swearing from her children, no matter what the circumstances were.
"If you don’t open your mouth right now, Rose, I’ll give you something worse than a bar of soap in your mouth."
Knowing that Ruth meant every word, Rose finally opened her mouth. She almost gagged at the foul taste of the soap, uttering a stronger profanity around it when she knew her mother wouldn’t understand her.
When Ruth took the bar of soap from Rose’s mouth, she bent over the sink, spitting and trying to get rid of the taste. After rinsing her mouth with water, she straightened, glaring furiously at her mother.
"You want me to get married and keep the family solvent, but you still treat me like a little girl!"
"Go to your room, Rose. Maybe you’ll be more civil in the morning."
"Fine. I’m not hungry anyway."
Rose left the bathroom and headed up the stairs, still seething.