Susan, student council president, smart, articulate, and challenging. She antagonized many, but still managed to win votes, largely because she had the guts to say what many wouldn’t, and because she was invariably amusing.
Ron asked her for coffee using the latest essay assignment as an excuse and soon it became their habit to go to the cafeteria or library after class and work together. After a time, it seemed natural to ask her to his place. By then he and Tony had moved out of residence and were living in a small basement suite a block from the campus. He made coffee or hot chocolate while Susan set up their books on the kitchen table. They were debating a scene in Gulliver’s Travels one day when Tony came home.
“You in love with her?” Tony asked as the door closed behind Susan.
“Why?” Ron was wary.
“There’s something about her man. Can’t quite put my finger on it. My advice. Stay away from her.”
“How can you say that? You’ve only just met her.”
“Just be careful man. Don’t want to see you hurt.” He slapped Ron on the shoulder and added, “I’m good at first impressions.”
“Tony!” Easy for him to talk, he was constantly surrounded by women. Called himself the love machine.
“Gotta go man, late for jazz class.”
Tony said no more, but if he came home and found Susan there he made excuses to leave. Susan seemed to sense the animosity and insisted that they go to her place even though it was farther from campus.
“Lord, look at the time.”
“It’s late. I should go,” Ron said.
“It is late, but you don’t have to go.” Susan smiled as she caressed his cheek.
“What do you mean?”
She turned off the lights and took his hand, pulled him up from the chair and towards her bed. “I’d like some company.” Ron, delighted at the possibilities, stood helplessly as she began to undress him. When he was stripped to nothing but his socks she undressed herself. Susan pulled him down to the bed. He felt awkward as she guided him and it was over before it began as he came with a violent shudder on the fourth thrust.
“My God, you’re a virgin.” Susan laughed. Ron was sure his whole body blushed. “Don’t worry kid. We’ve taken care of that. Now let’s really have some fun.”
In the next weeks, Ron was deliriously happy, in love and making love, almost daily. He wanted to shout his love to the world but Susan wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t let him put his arm around her in public or hold her hand.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I’ve never liked public displays.”
“But I just want to hold your hand. I like to feel you close.”
“I’m just not comfortable with it.”
“But everyone holds hands and no one thinks anything of it.”
“No.” She was adamant.
Ron was chosen for the coveted lead role in the school’s annual senior production. Each year the play was written, produced, directed, and cast solely by students. Over the years, the school had earned a respectable reputation with these productions and word had it that talent scouts from both Los Angeles and New York would attend. Ron was proud and excited, but disappointed that Susan didn’t share his enthusiasm for the production. She dismissed it as amateur, but promised to come see him opening night.
He saw little of Tony during those months and when he did, Tony’s only comment was a succinct reminder. “Be careful man.”
A few weeks later Ron and Susan were sitting at the table studying for exams.
“Sue, when exams are over let’s go to New York.”
“For a holiday?”
“Yeah.”
“Why New York? Why not somewhere closer, less expensive?”
“I’d like you to meet my parents.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Ron was flustered.
Susan looked up from her books. “Ron, this isn’t the meet the folks before the wedding thing is it?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Ron, grow up. I have a fiancé, for Christ’s sake. He’s coming home in a couple of months.”
The air filled with unbearable tension. “You’re engaged!”
“Yeah. Have been for almost a year.”
“When did you plan to tell me?” Ron’s voice cracked.
“After the play. I wanted you to have a good opening night.”
“Well, thanks so much. And, just what the hell am I?”
“I was lonely and you seemed like a nice guy.” He was too stunned and hurt to storm and rage at her, but she wouldn’t have noticed anyway as she launched into a description of the fiancé’s virtues and their marriage plans.
Ron stumbled home in the dark. For hours he did nothing but stare at the wall, thoughts of suicide swirling in his head. Tears came, then sleep when emotional exhaustion got the best of him. He crawled around campus for two days, bought a huge bottle of painkillers, took them home. Standing at the kitchen sink with a tall glass of water he took one, two, three, poured out a handful and tried to gauge how many he could swallow in one gulp, how quickly he could do this.
“Ron!” Tony called, startling him into action. He scooped the pills back into the bottle and turned to face Tony. “What are you doing man? They’re all frantic backstage waiting for you. Come on!” Tony grabbed his arm and dragged him, at a full run, across campus to the theatre.
“Thank God!” The director’s relief was palpable when he saw Ron. “We’ve got eight minutes. Get moving.”
The makeup and costume crews worked on him furiously. They muttered audibly about “temperamental actors” and “stage fright” but nothing touched him through the thick haze of his hurting.
The pain of Susan’s betrayal, of his own naivety, swirled through him and bled into his performance. He received standing ovations and rave reviews, reviews that brought him the attention of the New York agents. He burned with the irony of it and thanked whatever gods of theatre there might be that the play hadn’t been a comedy.
And now, this woman... Another fucking obsession. Ron felt helpless as he turned back to the TV.
*
“Ha. Ha. Geek! Nerd!” I called out. I loved those teens and their wacky way with words. We had nothing like it up here.
“That’s Ron,” Elspeth said, coming up behind me as I watched the Earth view.
“Yes, when he was younger, suffering teenage angst. He was such a dolt. Thank the Guardians that we don’t have that sort of nonsense up here. Loser!”
She glared at me. “Yves! Stop it. Those are derogatory Earth words, aren’t they?”
Elspeth’s words made me feel… bad somehow, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“What’s he doing now, ‘reading’ people? That's kinda cool. I didn’t know humans could do that,” Elspeth said.
“They can’t. He’s just making judgments based on his observations. He’s damn good at it though. It’s a game of his.” Made me wonder if anyone played it up here. Thought I might give it a try myself. Try it with Mentor. Ha, ha.
Elspeth settled herself on a sofa to watch the scenes with Ron’s girlfriends play out. “I don’t like this,” she said. “That Susan is a real bitch. Ron should have listened to his friend’s warning.”
I had to admit that I felt sorry for Ron, genuine sorrow, but only for the merest instant. He had no business being obsessed with Em. She was mine.
Chapter 16
Wind-whipped waves flung the boats about as they broke free of their moorings. Masses of dark storm clouds scudded by overhead, dragging clear blue sky and sunshine behind them. Good. If the weather settled it would be easier to find them. She wondered, for the thousandth time, why she was out, alone in a sailboat, in this impossible weather. She knew nothing about sailing. She looked at the unmanned helm, which held steady in the fierce winds; the sails billowed out fully, the boat tilted at a crazy, impossible angle, the spinnaker unfurled itself and the boat shot ahead.
r /> She clung to the dinghy as it rose and fell with the wild swells of the storm. At the crest of each wave she searched for the sailboat but saw only a huge cargo ship. It filled the horizon as it chugged slowly through the rough sea. Each sway of the waves pushed the dinghy closer until it bumped up against the hull of the ship and came close to capsizing. She reached out to touch the ship. Flecks of rust stuck to her fingers. Groaning ropes and crates, as they shifted with the movements of the ship were barely audible under the pitiful human moaning. She pushed against the hull with her hands, tried to force the dinghy away from the ship, looked for a way to climb up or to alert someone that she was there.
Suddenly, she hovered in the air about forty meters above the deck where at least four hundred people huddled in small groups. Her eyes burned and she flinched from the stench of urine, feces, and vomit that rose to the skies. She clamped her mouth shut tightly and held her stomach to squelch the bile rising in her throat. A woman in childbirth screamed; women around her tried to soothe, tried to help. The men averted their eyes and kept the children as far away as possible. The cargo groaned again. In sympathy to the human plight?
The wind tore at the sails. The thin nylon jacket she wore provided no protection whatsoever. She tried to shield her eyes from the droplets of salt water that made them tear and sting painfully. Her cheeks stung too, lashed by strands of her hair as the wind whipped it about her face. She blinked several times to clear her eyes and scanned the horizon. Nothing but waves.
The storm ended, the seas calmed, the sails lowered and she woke to the sounds of sirens as three fire trucks raced past the house.
*
“I say, send ’em back.”
“Come on, Carl. We’re all descendants of immigrants.”
“Who came to this country legally, don’t forget. These guys arrive on some rusty old boat and expect us to welcome them with open arms.”
“And it’s not politically correct to say what we really think, so we keep quiet and they keep coming.”
“They come from terrible conditions—”
“They’re terrorists, for Christ’s sake.”
“My father-in-law has been on a waiting list for his surgery for months, but they opened a bunch of hospital beds for these guys.”
“Did you hear they were complaining about conditions in the intake center. Clean beds, flush toilets and three meals a day; that’s gotta beat the hold of a rusty old ship and day and they have the nerve to bitch about their treatment here.”
“Did you see the woman they interviewed who said she came here twenty years ago, through the proper channels and felt these guys should too?”
“I don’t know. It’s so hard to say what’s right or wrong…”
“Australia’s got the right idea with Christmas Island.”
“We’ve got a shoreline of islands. Why don’t we do the same thing?”
She left the staffroom feeling slightly nauseous. She’d seen the “rusty old ship” and knew how bad it was. Still she had some sympathy for the arguments against letting in boatloads of illegal immigrants, when those who applied through the proper channels waited years to be processed.
Of course it wasn’t just the immigration issue that left her feeling sick, it was everything she did. How could she possibly know if her actions were the right ones? She wasn’t God. Did God, if there was one, even know? Did the guys controlling her know?
*
“The rusty old ship bit is because of her latest assignment. The horror of the conditions preying on her mind.”
Elspeth's mouth fell open. “Are you telling me that humans relive their days at night? That’s too weird.”
“I know.” When I’d first observed humans dreaming I was astounded. I have no idea how they ever get a peaceful night’s sleep?”
“I understand the rusty ship part, but why did she dream about a sail boat and a dinghy?”
“Well…” I launched into an explanation of humans' dream analysis. Em’s dream likely meant she was frustrated—sexually.
I didn’t tell Elspeth that I’d been having water dreams too.
Chapter 17
Everything was so damned normal. “Hi, guy, how’s it going? Did you hear about Shane's new movie?” “Hey bro, meet me for lunch Friday?” “Yo, buddy, you’re on. Step up to the plate, man.” “Ron? Jamie calling. Have to cancel our dinner date. Sorry.” “Dad, can I have ten bucks for the field trip? And you need to sign this form.” Routines unaffected. Days sliding by. But, he knew no peace, no relief from the desire and wanting. Fantasies of Em filled his days, his nights, his life. Would that they be real.
Obsessed! With Miracle Madame, no less. He’d need a miracle all right to survive this.
*
“No.” I wasn't about to give Ron that miracle he wanted. No way. Not a chance.
“But—” I held up my hand to stop any words that might spring out of Elspeth's mouth. She clamped her lips together, crossed her arms, and tapped her toe.
My conscience pricked me a bit, but I wasn't about to admit it to Elspeth. Why should I help him? Mentor hadn’t answered my question so I still didn’t know who he was and why I was in his life, so to speak.
*
And then Sandra found him. Ron participated in a question-and-answer session after a performance one night. The questions were the usual banalities from a group of drama students spending a week in New York. When it ended, he was tired and deflated.
“Excuse me, Mr. Conlin?”
“Yes?” He didn’t try to mask his impatience.
“Could I buy you a coffee?” She was a big woman, almost as tall as he was, and substantial; although that impression was undoubtedly heightened by the heavy coat and scarf she was wearing.
A long silence stretched between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” She made a move to leave.
He felt a surge of empathy.
“No, wait,” Ron called. She turned back. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Yes, I would like a coffee.” What the hell, he thought; this was the best offer he had had in months. “Come this way.” Ron indicated the steps at the side of the stage and held his hand out to her. He collected his coat and led her out the stage door to a nearby coffee house.
“I’m Sandra Hartt,” she said as they slid into the booth.
“Are you with the drama group?”
“No, I’m a New Yorker. I go to as many plays as I can afford and I always stay for the question sessions.”
“Do you always ask actors for coffee?” The words came out cynically and it was too late to remold them into something gentler.
“I never have before.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“Why did you ask me?” He was softer now, sensitive to her hurt. Lord knows, he thought, if anyone can understand rejection it should be me.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re honest at least.” He laughed lightly.
“Do you get asked out often?” She asked the question with open curiosity and Ron was relieved to see that she seemed a little more at ease.
“No, you’re the first.”
“Well, you’re honest at least.” She grinned and the ice was broken. Sandra asked intelligent questions about the play. She said that she had seen him in other productions and admired his talent. They discovered that they had similar tastes in theatre.
“I’m a librarian and a frustrated playwright,” Sandra said.
“Are you writing anything now?”
“Not at the moment. Everything I’ve submitted has been rejected.”
“You shouldn’t give up.”
“Easy for you to say. Look where you are.”
“I’ve had lean years,” Ron said. “Very lean. For a while I quit going to auditions.” He played with his coffee cup remembering those times. Sandra did not interrupt. “For three years, actually. I drove a limo, worked as a security guard, and as a telemarketer, and briefly considered going
back to school.
“No waiting tables?”
He made a face at her and she laughed. “I just couldn’t stay away. I started going to auditions again and eventually landed a couple of decent roles.”
“And now Broadway. Glad you stuck with it?” Sandra asked.
“Tough as it is, yes. There are still lean times but this is my life. You should keep trying.”
It was almost dawn before they realized it and he made sure to get her phone number before he put her in a taxi and waved goodbye.
Over the next few months they saw each other as often as their jobs permitted. Ron was cautiously optimistic that their friendship might lead to something more. Lord knew this wasn’t another obsession. Maybe there was a chance.
He and Sandra arrived at his apartment early one Sunday evening after his matinee performance to find Tony sitting on the doorstep. “Hey man, how the hell are you?” The two embraced warmly, then stood back to study each other. “Looking good, Ron. Still hitting the gym?”
“Yes, and still hating it.” Tony laughed. Yet again, Ron thanked the gods for their friendship. Tony made reality bearable.
“It’s good for you,” Tony said. “Now, introduce me to your lady.” Ron did and the three went inside. “I need a place to crash. Thought you might be willing to put up with me.”
“Of course. What brings you here? I thought you were in the big time in L.A.”
“Doing okay there, but I have a couple of auditions for musicals here and that’s really what I’d rather be doing. So what’s for dinner?” They ordered Chinese and spent the evening catching up. Sandra excused herself. Ron got his coat to walk her to the subway.
“No, stay and visit. I’ll be fine.”
“Nonsense,” Tony said. “We’ll both walk you.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Coming back from the subway Tony asked, “You in love?”
Ron’s response was slow in coming. “I think so, yeah.”
“Between the sheets?”
“No, not yet.”
“What are you waiting for man? She’s a keeper.” Tony slapped him on the back and, typical Tony, was off on six other topics of conversation in as many seconds.
They were compatible and had a good marriage. Ron would have liked to see more of the world, to have had some adventure in his life. Sandra preferred the security of home. Their routines revolved around the children. Ron missed the stage but the money in movies compensated and he enjoyed the California climate. Sandra didn’t seem to mind his long days on the set. If something was missing in their relationship, Ron wasn’t prepared to examine it too closely.