carly part seven: micki

This story started here.

“When I got to college,” Micki began, “I might just as
well have been named Micki Hitler. I had wanted to go to school
far away because I wanted to be more anonymous, but I found out
that my father’s name is known all across the country. So, kids
would say things about him, and I’d defend him. Not even because
I thought he was right about every little thing, but because you
defend your blood. You remember all those stories about how he
stood up for Paul when they were kids, even when Paul was wrong
and my father would beat the shit out of him later at home.

“So, anyway, I got in trouble a few times, for fighting and
stuff, but nothing too bad. But then I started trying to figure
out why the entire student body of this big, fancy school all
seemed to think my father was a monster. So, I started doing
some reading, newspapers and magazines, and then I started to
wonder if maybe they were right. It didn’t seem reasonable that
they could all be malcontents and crybabies.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, then she brought her
legs up and folded them under her. “You know my record in high
school. I didn’t get into a school like that on my own merits.
And, between the fights and everything else, plus a lot of
partying, I admit, I wasn’t in good shape grades-wise. I decided
to hell with it, I was going to leave school and come back here.
I wanted to know the truth, a lot more than I wanted to know
about calculus or anthropology or whatever.”

Susan nodded. “So, you came back. I can understand that.
But why did you come back as Carly Stein?”

Micki looked around. “Do you have anything to eat? Just
anything? A piece of bread would be fine. I’m really hungry.”

Susan got up and took some bagels from the breadbox. She
brought them over on a cutting board, along with butter, jam and
a big knife. Micki sliced a bagel in half and buttered it. She
started chewing a piece, then said, “Thanks. Anyway, Carly was a
year ahead of me at school. I guess maybe her father helped me
get in.” Susan nodded. “We’d never been close, she’s a real
religious type, very strict, but we got more friendly after I got
there because she sort of understood what I was going through,
the whole thing about my father.”

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