WHEN CLARICE LEFT, she left a letter for her parents in which she declared that she had gone to “improve the path of Socialism.” Her father was enraged and her mother embarrassed, yet she somehow admired her daughter.
Maia said, “I knew she was going to pull something like this.”
Mona did not know whether her having known about the fact that Clarice was running off was incriminating, but she decided to keep quiet. There was no way she would have hampered Clarice’s plans, even though it might have meant that Clarice would have stayed nearby, if the parents had managed to keep her at home, which Mona doubted.
Clarice had written to Mona once and told her about the student protests, the art and films that were being produced, and all the new interesting people she had met: Things with that guy didn’t work out, I won’t go into it, but I’m staying anyway, it’s so great to be here and I really feel that the reforms we are supporting will make a difference to our future as a country. I may try to go into the movies, there is so much amazing stuff being made, stuff we back home have never even heard of.
After a while, Clarice’s parents located her, but she refused to return.
Mona wrote a postcard back to Clarice, on which she simply wrote: Miss you in the shelter. Kiss. She thought this was enough for now; she never went to the shelter anymore anyway, The Invention’s oil had made it unbearable and the place made no sense without Clarice in it. She kept Clarice’s letter in her coat pocket, to read whenever she could. It made her feel that Clarice was somehow still part of her life. In the meantime, Mona and Maia practiced for the dance every day.
Mrs. Grebenc shouted out: “And lift!”; “To the left! Come on, show some grace, you look like pieces of dead wood”; “Up! Down!”; “Lift your chins up it’s not a funeral!”; “The President will be watching!”