Blind Squirrels

By Jennifer Davis

I would like to dedicate this book to all of my dear friends from high school and beyond.  I would especially like to acknowledge Lisa Tillery, Amanda Guevara Rocha, and Marta Guevara.  They will always be the Olivias in my life.

Preface

This story takes place in the fictional town of Foster’s Bank, Florida.  Having grown up in Pensacola, Florida, I wanted to set my story in a similar locale.  I chose the name Foster’s Bank from a piece of Pensacola’s history.  Foster’s Bank is the name of a peninsula of land in Perdido Key where Fort McRee once stood.  Fort McRee was one of three military forts that was built to protected Pensacola and Pensacola Bay.  Fort McRee, now all but reduced to rubble by the weather, has fascinated me for a number of years.  As a young girl, I visited the other two forts, Fort Barrancas on NAS Pensacola and Fort Pickens on Santa Rosa Island, many times, and I always heard about Fort McRee and longed to visit it as well.  I finally got a chance as a young woman when my then husband, Dan Cowser, and I took a boat out through Big Lagoon towards Pensacola Bay.  We happened upon Foster’s Bank quite by accident, but we were able to distinguish some of the old fort’s foundation.  It was very exciting, and that experience has kept my interest in Fort McRee alive for all these years.  I decided that naming my town after Fort McRee’s location would be my tribute to this historic place.  I continued with this theme by naming the high school William McRee High, after the army engineer colonel the fort was named for.  The rival high school, Bragg, was named for the general who was the commander of the Confederate forces in Pensacola.  The alternative school mentioned, Brown, was named for the commander of the Union forces.  Center Middle School came from one of the battery names at Fort McRee.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

Chapter 1

Max was sitting in the garden again.  It was my third time seeing him there this week.  He seemed so troubled – almost vulnerable.  It was difficult seeing him like this.  The Max I knew was always assured – always in control.  I wanted desperately to help, but that could never be.  I couldn’t even let him know that I was there.

As he rose to leave, I continued eating my lunch.  Max walked past me and absentmindedly said hello.  He didn’t recognize me – I had changed quite a bit in twenty years.  He was different as well: his black hair, shorter and thinning on top, was turning gray; his boyish face was now rugged and worn.  As I watched him walking away, a yearning came over me.  It was a familiar feeling – one I had known almost since the first day I laid eyes on Max Savage.

Even as I fought that old emotion, I realized that I would lose – that I wanted to lose.  I told myself that my love for Max transcended all time and all things and to fight something that strong was useless.  Very soon, I was experiencing those old “crush” symptoms – sweaty palms, nervousness, and urgent desire.  Caught up in the nostalgia and savoring the way I was feeling, I found myself transported back to that hot August day in 1975...

Chapter 2

It was the first day of school, the first day of high school, the first day of the most miserable four years of my life.

In my world, nothing could ever go right.  I’m not talking about the simple things that most people experience.  Not pimples.  Not changing voices that squeak at the wrong time.  No, I’m talking about terrible things.  Things like a mother forcing her overweight, five foot tall daughter to wear a blue knit dress on the first day of school.  The first day and I was ruined for the next four years.  I knew that no one in high school would be able to forget that stuffed whale look that my mother insisted was so cute.  Even the teachers would be laughing at me.  Sensing that I was about to slip into my bedroom and change into jeans and a T-shirt, my mother quickly set me out on the front steps and told me to get to the bus stop.

Bus stop!  No one had said anything about riding a bus!

I dawdled on the steps.  We had only lived in this neighborhood a few weeks, and I didn’t know anyone that would be riding the bus.  Most of my friends lived on the other side of town, and they were going to Bragg High, which they assured me was the coolest high school in town.  I, on the other hand, was going to William McRee High School, and I had heard from my friends that it was a terrible school – complete with race riots and designated smoking areas.  Still, my biggest fear wasn’t that some of the troublemakers were on our bus.  My biggest fear was that I wouldn’t know anyone – on the bus or at school.  I was terribly afraid of being alone.  Alone and in a skin tight dress that made me look like a whale and feel like a misfit.

While trying to decide if I could spend the next four years standing on our steps and hiding from my mother, someone stepped from behind a bush that was at the corner of our yard.   It was a girl I had seen a few times walking up and down the street in front of my house.

“Going to the bus stop?” she asked.

“Uh – umm…,” I was terminally shy.

“Come on.  My name is Tracy Morton.  I live over there,” she pointed back down the street towards a green house on the opposite side.  “It’s my first day in high school.  What about you?”

I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable.  Tracy was about the same size that I was, and she was friendly enough.  Luckily for her, she didn’t have a sadistic mother.  She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  I slowly stepped off the steps, and the two of us began walking up the hill to the bus stop.

Tracy was talkative to say the least.  She had an older brother named Andy, and two sisters, Faye and Sheila.  Andy was fifteen, Faye was eight, and Sheila was eleven.  Tracy and I were the same age, thirteen, although her birthday was coming up in September, and mine wasn’t until December.  All of this I learned while walking to the bus stop– and there were only two houses between my house and the stop.

I wanted to tell Tracy my name and all about my older brother Rick who was in the Navy, but we had reached the bus stop – and all the other kids.  There were seven people already on the corner.  Tracy waved her hand at them: the tall stocky muscular girl, the blonde beauty, the lanky skinny boy and the pint-sized skinny boy, the overweight boy with pimples, the cute guy with long black hair, and the tall, tan Greek god that I fell in love with the second my eyes met his.  Just then Tracy nudged me and said, “What did you say your name was?”

“Katrina.”  I was almost shaking with fear.

Then suddenly, Tracy was talking again.  Only this time she was helping to make this an awful and unforgettable moment in my life.

“Hey, everybody, this is Katrina!”

Now, everyone was looking at me, the blue stuffed whale.  And the looks on their faces reflected my worst fear: this was going to be a long, embarrassing year at WMHS.  At that moment, I decided something very important: I didn’t like Tracy one little bit.

As I stood there wishing I could melt into the pavement, the cute guy with long hair came to my rescue.

“I’m Max,” he began, “…and these are my friends.”

Max went around introducing everyone.  Johnny was the Greek god.  Erma was the muscular girl.  Sally was the beauty.  The lanky skinny boy was Amos and the shorter one was Frank.  The boy with the pimply face was Mason.

Suddenly I wasn’t the center of attention anymore, and I didn’t feel quite so out of place.  Out of this crowd, only Johnny and Max seemed perfect.  After all, Tracy was chubby like me.  Erma was very tall and built like a football player; Amos had buck teeth and a bad haircut; Frank looked as if he was about seven years old; Sally laughed like a hyena and had the voice of a little tiny girl.  Poor Mason was plump, wore horn-rimmed glasses, and had pimples covering his face.  Even a blue whale looked good next to him.  But best of all, there didn’t seem to be any bullies at our stop.

Before the bus arrived, we were joined by two more boys, Terrance and Dale.  Terrance was tall and thin with dark brown hair hanging to his shoulders.  He began talking to Max and Johnny and they all seemed to be good friends.  Dale was shorter and muscular.  I imagined that he was a football player.  He had dirty blond hair that was in a flat-top.  He stayed to himself and spoke to no one.

As the bus finally roared around the corner at the bottom of the hill, another boy was approaching the stop from the direction of my house.  Pointing in the boy’s direction, Tracy announced that we’d better watch out. “There’s Travis Cartwright,” she said in what seemed to be an agitated voice, “Or should I say Trouble?”  As Travis drew nearer, he looked more and more like he belonged in reform school instead of high school.  He looked much older than the other guys, even though I was sure Johnny and Max were 15 or older.  He was sporting a thin mustache, and his long brown hair was a mound of curly knots.  I guessed that he hadn’t washed it all summer long.  He wore a shabby white T-shirt and faded jeans.  A pack of cigarettes was rolled up in the sleeve of his shirt.  Still, something about Travis was appealing.  He somehow made me feel intimidated and passionate at the same time.

Then the bus eased to a stop, and the door flew open.  As I waited in line, I could hear laughter and jeering coming from the bus.  Could they be laughing at the blue whale, I wondered.  Finally, I stepped onto the bus, which seemed filled to capacity.  Behind me, I could feel Travis’s hot breath on my neck as he pushed me and the others forward as though he owned the bus.

Very few seats held less than three people.  Johnny had found an empty seat, but Tracy had forced him to share it with her.  I thought of sitting with the two of them, but I feared that Tracy and I might take up most of the seat.  I certainly didn’t want my Greek god to dwell on my size.  Just then, I noticed that the one black girl on the bus was sitting alone.  I looked down at her, and she smiled up at me.  She had the most sincere smile I had seen all day, and I quickly sat down beside her.

I knew Travis was right on my tail, but I didn’t know he was taking that literally.  Before I had a chance to get comfortable, Travis was shoving himself into what remained of our seat.  I gave him a disapproving look, and he stared back at me straight in the eye.  His dark brown eyes seemed to swallow me up, and I quickly turned away from him.

I turned my face towards the black girl.  She was a little chubby, with a round friendly face.  Her hair was the darkest black.  It was kinky and long; hanging down about half-way to her waist.  Her skin was the color of the purest milk chocolate and her eyes were as black as her hair.  She was wearing a white button-up blouse and brown polyester pants.  Quite suddenly, I realized that I had met her before.

“Did you go to Center Middle School?” she asked before I could.

“Yes,” I answered.  “I remember seeing you there.”

“My name is Aurelia Damask.  I started going to Center Middle right before the end of the year.  Before that, I went to school in New York.”

“Really?  That’s really cool.”

“It is really different there.  A lot more people.  My family sent me here to live with my aunt and uncle.  That’s one of my cousins sitting in front of us.  Millie, turn around–”

The girl in front of us had reddish-blond hair that was in an afro.  She turned around.  I was surprised to find that she was very light skinned, a vast contrast to Aurelia, and I wasn’t quite sure if Aurelia was teasing me or if this truly was her cousin.  Millie’s lips were very full, her eyes were the color of almonds, and she was thin and very beautiful.  She and Aurelia couldn’t have been more different.  All of a sudden I noticed that Millie had a scowl on her face.

“Aurelia!  I have told you not to call me Millie!  My name is Dominique.  Please call me that!”

“Okay, whatever.  I just wanted you to meet someone…oh, dear; I forgot to ask your name...”

“My name is Katrina,” I answered.

Dominique smiled at last.  It was the same sincere smile Aurelia had.  “Very nice to meet you, Katrina,” she said.

“Same here, Dominique,” I answered.

“You know,” Aurelia whispered, “her real name is Millie Dominique Damask.”

We started having a quiet chat, and I knew that I had just made two friends.  I learned that Aurelia was almost fourteen, and Dominique had just turned fifteen in June.  Aurelia revealed that her parents were divorced and her mother couldn’t afford to keep Aurelia in New York with her.  Aurelia had wanted to move in with her dad who lived in Pennsylvania, but both of her parents felt she should come to Foster’s Bank and live with her dad’s brother and his family.

Just then, the bus came to an abrupt stop.  I looked out the window, and we were in front of a school, but it wasn’t WMHS.  It was Brown, the school for potential drop-outs and general no-goods.  Panic set in.  I was on the wrong bus – I couldn’t go to school here – What was I going to do?  WMHS was bad, but Brown was the worst of the worst.

No one moved, except Travis.  He stood up, still wearing the same grimace.  I sighed with relief as I realized we were only stopping to let Travis off.  He began walking towards the front of the bus.  My eyes followed his every step, although I wasn’t sure why.  My brain was in a constant struggle against my eyes, but my eyes managed to stay on him until he was completely out of sight.  After Travis reached the other side of the road and I couldn’t see him any longer, the bus started moving again.  Regaining my composure, I scooted over in my seat and gave Aurelia some breathing space.

As our conversation dwindled, I found I couldn’t take my mind off Travis.  His demeanor was unnerving, yet I felt some kind of connection.  I couldn’t explain why, but I hadn’t really minded when Travis had sat down beside me.  I ultimately decided that it was hormones.  Why else would a normal girl be attracted to a guy that was probably a future serial killer?

Arriving at WMHS helped me forget Travis.  As I stepped off the bus, my thoughts abruptly returned to my earlier fears.  Sure, I had made two new friends in about ten minutes, but they couldn’t be with me always.  I could only hope that I would meet up with some of my old friends from Center.

Homeroom was a frightening experience.  I knew absolutely no one.  Katrina Kipling: alone and afraid.  On one side of me sat a stocky, muscular guy named Kent Klingensmith.  Yubi Kim, a cute Asian girl, sat in front of me.  A sweet black guy named Harry Khan sat on the other side.  Harry was the only one who spoke to me.  He would eventually become my first friend in homeroom.

My first period class was French.  I recognized no one as I took a seat near the front.  This class excited me most, so I wanted to be able to see and hear well.  Then I saw a familiar face.  Karen Frost, a girl I had known in the sixth grade, quickly took the empty desk beside me.  Karen was slim and built like a boy – she hadn’t developed yet.  She had short brown hair and a mass of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose.  Karen had been one of my best friends in sixth grade, but we hadn’t seen each other at all since then.  It was good to have her in my class.

“Kat!  I am so glad to see you.  So, French together?  We’ll have so much fun, don’t you think?”

So what if I didn’t share Karen’s eternal peppiness?  We could still be friends.

Our teacher entered the classroom, and I barely managed to hide a smile and a snicker.  Monsieur Guest, as he forced us to call him, was the spitting image of Captain Kangaroo – complete with a bushy mustache and a sweet round chubby face.  I kept expecting Ping-Pong balls to fall on his head, or Bunny Rabbit to silently appear from behind his desk.

“Bonjour, classe,” Monsieur Guest announced.  Several students looked at him as though he were speaking a foreign language.  The rest of us recited, “Bonjour, Monsieur.”  We knew what to say because it was written on the chalk board and he pointed to it with his chalk.

We spent the rest of the class learning the French pronunciation of our names.  Some of us indulged in choosing new names, which Monsieur Guest allowed us to do if we would use them for the whole year.  I became “Antoinette” and Karen chose “Paulette.” I had always loved the name Antoinette, and Karen just chose a name that seemed close to mine.  Monsieur Guest seemed pleased with our choices, and, to prove it, he called us “Mademoiselles Frost and Kipling” for the rest of the year.  No one, in class or otherwise, would ever actually call me “Antoinette,” but I had to write it on all my tests and papers.

By second period, I had begun to feel a little easier about WMHS.  After all, I hadn’t seen the first rebel flag, nor had I heard about any fights.  Over all, WMHS seemed like a normal school, differing from Center Middle only in size.  Best of all, no one had called me a whale – yet.

Second period was Algebra.  My teacher was Mr. Trent – a middle aged hippie with a ponytail and a Fu Manchu mustache.  He was always dressed in bellbottom jeans and loud paisley shirts, but what I remember most is that he had a wonderful sense of humor.  Erma from my bus stop was in my class.  She had seemed nice enough at the bus stop, but here in the classroom, she was very loud-mouthed and her personality was quite abrasive.  I began to think that she was the type that hit first and asked questions later.

Mr. Trent gave us a test to see what we knew about algebra.  I was the first one finished – math was always my strong point – but I was too shy to turn my paper in first.  I was afraid Mr. Trent might think I finished first because I guessed at the answers.  A boy named Tim was sitting right next to me.  He finished right after I did and went to turn his test in, so I followed right behind him.  Mr. Trent winked at me, and I began to blush.  After I sat back in my seat, I wrote my friend Laura a note detailing all that had happened so far that morning.

Laura Hawkins had been my best friend in seventh and eighth grade.  Laura was a large girl.  Tall and big boned, she looked much older than I did.  Laura had short brown hair, small blue eyes and a short round nose.  She had a loud voice and a Canadian accent: her family had lived in Canada until Laura was eight years old.  Laura was here at WMHS – somewhere.  I hadn’t seen her yet, but I knew we would find each other.

Just as I folded the note, the bell rang, dismissing second period.  Shuttling down the hallway, I caught a glimpse of Aurelia.  We waved, but neither of us had time to speak.  The tardy bell would be ringing in five minutes.  Just as I was about to enter my next class, I heard someone call out my name.  I turned around, and it was Laura.  We both had English for third period!  I was ecstatic.

Laura and I sat on the back row, side by side.  I passed her the note I had written, and she started reading it.  I watched the other students enter, and I moaned when Bill Fine walked in.  Like Laura, Bill had been in my eighth grade class; however, Bill was not a friend of mine.  In fact, he had teased Laura and me persistently the whole year, pulling our hair and calling us names.  I couldn’t believe I had to put up with him for another year.  Bill was tall, with reddish blond hair and blue eyes, and he was quite funny when he wasn’t directing barbs at Laura or me.  I wanted to like Bill, but he made it impossible.  I just wished he would leave us alone.

Then it happened.  Jeannie Molina walked through the door.  She had been my nemesis from Center Middle.  She was ten times worse than Bill Fine.  She had been in my seventh and eighth grade classes, much to my chagrin.  Jeannie was Asian with long flowing perfect black hair, large almond shaped brown eyes, and a voluptuous body.  And although she was only thirteen, she could have passed for twenty.  She was extremely beautiful, and I was very intimidated by her confidence and by the way she looked.  She had always acted superior to me, making fun of me and embarrassing me whenever possible.  I hated her, and I dreaded spending another year being tortured by her.

Laura finished reading her note.  She was laughing about the way I had described Monsieur Guest.  Laura had decided to study Spanish instead of French, so she would never envision Monsieur Guest talking to a Grandfather clock, debating with Mr. Greenjeans, or reading a story about Rick and his steam shovel.

Mrs. Harris was our teacher.  She was about as round as she was tall, with short blond hair and blue eyes.  She was extremely pleasant, and I knew right away that I would enjoy her class.  Laura and I worried when she announced that she had come up with a seating chart.  But it turned out that Laura was sitting beside me on the right.  As my luck would have it, Bill was sitting to my left, and Jeannie Molina was in front of me.  Behind me was a tiny blond girl.  She reminded me of a mouse – terribly shy and skittish.  I would learn that her name was Diane Griffin.

Jeannie made a face at me as she sat down.  Bill, on the other hand, said in a loud voice, “Here, Kitty, Kitty Kat.  How are you?”

While I didn’t like being called Kitty-Kitty, it amazed me that Bill was actually being cordial.  I smiled at him and spoke.  The girl sitting behind Bill was a blonde with Coca-Cola bottle glasses.  Her gray eyes were magnified 500 times behind the thick glass.  Her name was Jill, and she was not very attractive.  I had the sudden thought that Bill would probably start teasing her as much as he did me, and I felt sorry for her.

I needn’t have worried.  Jill leaned over and whispered something to Bill, her gigantic eyes never leaving my face.  Then she started laughing, and I knew she was making fun of me in some way.  Just the look on her face told me.  Strangely enough, Bill didn’t laugh.  He just looked angry as he whispered something back to Jill.  Jill grew quiet and sat back in her seat.  Bill looked over at me and smiled.  Then he smiled at Laura and asked her if she’d had a nice summer.  Was it too much to hope that Bill had really changed?  Only time would tell.

Fourth period was Biology and lunch.  There were three lunches, and they were during one part or another of fourth period – making fourth period 1-1/2 hours long.  My lunch break was during the second thirty minutes, so I had Biology before and after lunch.

My teacher was Mrs. Danes, a black lady with a bad attitude.  She had a bad reputation, and she deserved it.  Short, petite, and somewhat attractive, her appearance was deceiving.  She was recovering from a bad divorce and taking it out on everyone.  She didn’t seem to like any of her students.  And the feeling was mutual.

Before class, I had seen Aurelia and another girl I vaguely knew enter the next door.  They were in Mrs. Harper’s Home Ec class, and I wished that I was, too.  I did know someone in my class, however.  Her name was Shelly, and I had known her since the sixth grade.  We had never really been friends, but I sat close to her and tried to change that.  Shelly seemed only slightly interested.  She wasn’t popular, but she wanted to be.  Hanging out with someone like me might ruin her chances.  Shelly had brown hair with blond highlights, and it always looked wind-blown.  She had blue eyes, and she wore too much mascara and too much blue eye shadow.  Her nose was rather large, but she was attractive enough.  I guessed that one day she would be popular.  She already knew how to stick her nose up in the air.

Finally, lunch arrived.  I made it to outside the lunchroom, and then I started looking for Laura.  I wasn’t sure which lunch she had, but I hoped it was mine.  She didn’t show up, but Aurelia and Olivia did.  Olivia was the girl I had earlier seen going into Mrs. Harper’s room.  Olivia was an attractive girl.  She had shoulder length dark brown wavy hair and a beautiful smile.  She was tall and chubby with round rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.  She had a great sense of humor and an outgoing personality.  I suppose Aurelia and I needed someone outspoken because we were both somewhat shy.  Throughout most of high school, I remained afraid to say what I was feeling and I allowed some people to walk all over me.  I didn’t have to worry about that with Aurelia or Olivia.  Neither of them would have ever tried to take advantage of me.

I hated crowds, and the lunchroom was packed, so we got junk food out of the vending machines instead.  This would become our ritual: buy our chips and colas, sit on “our” bench on the breezeway, and talk and gossip until the bell rang.  There was no better way to spend lunch.

As the three of us were getting better acquainted, I saw Max walking on the breezeway.  His long black hair was blowing in the wind.  Just then, Johnny approached him.  I just melted at the sight of Johnny in his silk shirt and tight blue jeans.  Johnny had shoulder-length light brown hair and a deep-dark tan.  He was tall and thin and he truly was built like a Greek god.  He had several of the buttons on his shirt undone, and I could see that his chest was tanned and bare.  He wore sandals, and his feet were just as tan as the rest of him – at least the parts of him I could see.

Max wasn’t nearly as good-looking as Johnny, but I did love Max’s hair.  It was long and silky, hanging halfway down his back.  He was shorter than Johnny, but he seemed older.  Max was wearing a blue button up shirt and black pants, but I hardly noticed.  Johnny had all of my attention.

I pointed Johnny and Max out to Aurelia and Olivia, saying, “I think those guys ride our bus, Aurelia.”

“You’re right, Katrina.  I saw them this morning.”  Neither Olivia nor Aurelia mentioned that either one of the boys was cute, so I didn’t either.

The bell rang much too soon, and Aurelia, Olivia, and I returned to our classrooms.

No one had ever looked so forward to fifth period as I did that day.  If it would get me away from Mrs. Danes, fifth period would be my favorite – even if it was Geography.  When the bell rang ending fourth period, I flew out the door at warp speed.

Coach Dreyer was the teacher, although he wasn’t much of one.  He was the basketball coach, and I suppose he had to have a class to teach.  It should have been Basket Weaving 101.  He didn’t really seem to care about anything except his team – and his star performer.  We heard all about basketball but very little about geography.  To make matters worse, I didn’t know anyone.  Almost the entire class was male, and most of them were on the basketball team.

Even though I felt out of place in geography, I still dreaded sixth period most of all: PE.  When the bell rang announcing the end of fifth period, I walked as slowly as possible but, all too soon, I was in the gym.  To my relief, Olivia was also in sixth period PE.  Our teacher was Mrs. Robinson, a very attractive yet extremely stern woman.  She would be someone that I could love one moment and hate the next.  But, unlike Mrs. Danes, she was always fair.  Since it was the first day, we just went over some rules; then we could do whatever we wanted to do.

Olivia and I spent most of the class talking.  She told me about her family.  She lived with her mother and her brother Darrell.  Olivia’s older sister Reba was married.  I told Olivia about my family, too.  She showed interest in my brother Rick until I told her that he had a wife and a young daughter.

Olivia and I were going to be friends, and the thought thrilled me.  We had a lot in common: we’d both suffered ridicule about our weight and we were both quite desperate to find the right guy.  What better recipe for a friendship?

The bell finally rang ending the first day.  Olivia and I said goodbye and promised to look for each other the next morning.  I scampered off to my bus, and I was the first one to get on it.  Today hadn’t been so bad, and now I had my choice of any seat on the bus.  Just like a true nerd, I almost chose the front seat, but then I realized that cool guys like Johnny wouldn’t sit in the front of the bus.  So, I sprinted back, selecting a seat three rows from the rear.

Just as I got comfortable, Erma – the girl from my Algebra class – came running towards the back seat.  She gave me a smile – although it looked more like a sneer – as she bounded past me.  “What’s your name again?” she said.  Her voice was gravelly and deep.

I almost said, “Katrina,” but I wanted to be cool.  “Kat,” I mumbled instead.

“I’m a sophomore.  Aren’t you a freshman?”  She wasn’t softening a bit.

“Yeah.”  My voice was cracking.  Sometimes freshmen suffered harassment from upperclassmen.

“Are you good at math?”

“Sort of.”  My breathing was coming in short bursts, and my heart was speeding.

“Good.  I might need some tutoring.  I’m awful at math.”  She had softened.  She wanted my help.

“Sure,” I said.  My voice was back to normal; my vital signs were improving as well.

Up front, the Howdy Doody twins were taking the front seats. Their toothy smiles and bright eyes enhanced their somewhat plain freckled faces.  Dressed in matching clothes, these clean cut boys would have felt right at home in Mayberry.  They were more Opie than Ron Howard would ever be. They each had bright red hair cut in a military style – differing only in that one parted his on the right while the other one opted for the left: a real triumph for individualism.

Meanwhile, Johnny and Max had arrived.  With Johnny in the lead, the two friends were sauntering towards the back seat as if they had all the time in the world.  They passed me by as though they had never seen me before.  I refused to let myself look back as I heard them speak to Erma.  I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

Aurelia and Dominique stepped onto the bus, and Aurelia waved.  Both girls headed towards me, and I wondered which one would sit with me.  Just then I felt a kerplunk on the seat beside me.  I felt like telling whoever the ignoramus was to get out of my seat – the bus wasn’t half full yet.  But that’s not the way of Katrina Kipling.  No pushing, no shoving, no talking back.  A dirty look, maybe, but nothing more substantial.  Still, I turned to face the intruder.  What a relief that no one had a camera.  It would be a shame if anyone had caught my surprised look on film.  The ill-mannered oaf turned out to be Max.  Fortunately, he turned around to talk to Johnny before catching my stunned expression.  Aurelia and Dominique seemed to be the only ones that saw, and they were giggling as they took the seat in front of Max and me.

Now my heart was really pumping.  I could feel every beat pounding in my head.  I grasped the back of Aurelia and Dominique’s seat, and my knuckles started turning white.  Time stood still until the bus started moving.  Max turned to face forward in the seat.  I tried to keep from looking in Max’s direction, but my eyes wouldn’t listen.  Max was staring right at me and he had a goofy grin on his face.

I quickly looked away.  Aurelia would tell me later that my face turned fifteen shades of red.  I could certainly feel the heat in my cheeks.  Max chuckled as he scooted down in the seat and propped his knees against the back of Aurelia and Dominique’s seat.  “You don’t mind me sitting here, do you?”  I sensed a note of sarcasm.

Unable to speak, I simply shook my head.  I heard him chuckle again.  He turned around quickly, and I heard him say, “Johnny...,” and then, just as quickly, he turned back around and slid over closer to me.  I could feel his body heat, and I was sure he could feel mine as well.

With my head bent forward, I permitted myself to slightly glance in Max’s direction.  His arm was touching mine, and I noticed the thick black hair that covered it.  As I allowed my eyes to move slowly up his body, I discovered that his chest was just as hairy as his arm.  The most surprising part of all was that I thought this was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.  Max’s hairy chest was so much more exciting than Johnny’s bare chest.  At that moment, Max replaced Johnny and every other boy in my heart.  I decided right then that I could never love another.  One percent true love; ninety-nine percent raging hormones.

We had reached the first bus stop.  Aurelia and Dominique got up to leave.  They told me goodbye, but I could only smile and nod.  I kept wondering if Max would move, but he didn’t.  Our stop was the last one, and I hoped he’d stay beside me all the way.

On our way to the next stop, Mason Pearson – the pimpled kid from my bus stop – walked down the aisle and stopped beside Max.  “Is this your new girlfriend, Max?” he asked.  A wide comical grin covered his face, and for the first time I noticed that his ears stuck way out from his head.  If I hadn’t been so mortified by his taunting remark, I might have laughed.  Instead, I fought back stinging tears and turned my face towards the window.  Max, however, was undaunted.  “Shut up, Mason.  You are neither funny nor smart.  Sit down.”

Max remained next to me throughout the bus ride.  He also allowed me to go in front of him as we exited.  I noticed that Tracy was watching both of us, but I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.  I got off the bus and rushed home for two reasons.  Number one: I didn’t want to find out what Tracy was thinking.  Number two: I had to get out of that dress.

At home, I found myself thinking about Max and Mason.  Did Max react because Mason offended him or embarrassed me?  I didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.  The love bug had bitten me and now anything coming out of Max’s mouth was a compliment.  I made up my mind that Max would someday be mine – even if it killed him – and with that decision made, I picked up the phone to call my best friend in the world, Donna.

Chapter 3

“Beep-beep.  Beep-beep.”

The alarm on my cell phone told me that I was late for work.  Shoving my half-eaten sandwich into a crinkled paper bag, I jumped off the garden bench and rushed to my car.  I barely noticed the blooming azaleas and the tiny rosebuds peeking out at the beautiful spring day.  A red Corvette cut me off at the garden exit, and I shook my fist and cursed.  The obscurity of a vehicle could work wonders for the weak of spirit.

Once back at work, I hurried quickly to my desk.  I marveled that I was only ten minutes late.  I heard Brad mumbling about something over in his office across the hall and wondered if anyone had even missed me.

Brad and I were part of our company’s Information Technology Team.  I was the Operations Analyst and a part-time programmer; Brad was the Senior Programmer as well as a Systems Analyst.  Together we kept Bigelow Exports functioning, although our boss Nancy Martin took most of the credit.  This would be my fourteenth year at Bigelow’s while Brad was working on year sixteen.  Nancy – who was younger and less experienced than any of us – would be celebrating year number five.

Brad Hanover was a quirky guy.  Married three times – and equally divorced – he took life as it came, and he complained about it.  Nothing, it seemed, ever went right for him.  Wife number one found another lover before anniversary number one.  Wife number two stuck around for three years – long enough to let Brad pay her way through college.  Wife number three spent Brad’s money before he earned it, sending him into bankruptcy court and divorce court all in the same year.  He’d stayed single for the past five years.

In the beginning, I’d felt a certain attraction for this sandy-haired, baby-faced, worrier.  At five feet-six inches, he certainly satisfied my penchant for shorter men.  We also got along famously.  For all his worrying, I treated him with generous doses of humor and optimism. Now, after fourteen years, I was glad we were only friends.  An office romance can cause all kinds of problems, especially if the romance ends badly.  And with Brad’s track record, I was willing to bet a week’s wages on any of his relationships ending badly.  The years, or perhaps all the constant worry, had not been kind to Brad.  He was losing most of his hair on top, and the rest of it was gray.  His baby-face had grown tired, and deeply entrenched wrinkles replaced his laugh lines and dimples.  Sometimes it seemed that my friendship with Brad was the only thing that kept me sane at work.

Brad was still mumbling when Nancy walked into my office.  Oh no.  Here comes the lecture.

“You were late getting back from lunch.”  I pretended to be working and ignored Nancy’s remark.  I knew I was late, but I often came to work early.  I usually stayed late as well.

“Katrina,” Nancy always pronounced my name wrong – Kay-Trina, with a pause after Kay, “I need to talk to you.”

I stopped looking at my PC and turned to face Nancy.  She was difficult to look at.  Her stylish red hair had never seen a bad hair day; it always held in place and curled in the right direction.  Her petite oval face had a creamy complexion, and no blemish had ever flourished there.  Black eyeliner ringed her almond-shaped eyes, enhancing their shape and increasing their size – as if they weren’t big enough already.  Those perfect eyes were emerald green, and they sparkled even in the fluorescent light.  Her nose was so flawless that I sometimes fantasized about breaking it just to give it character.  Her mouth housed immaculate teeth.  Exquisite pouty lips wore lipstick that never smudged, faded, or streaked.  Need I point out that her body could make men beg and women cry?  Women like me anyway.

“Can’t it wait?”  I was trying to put off the inevitable.  “I need to review the payroll data.”

“No, it can’t.  You were late coming back from lunch.  Do you care to explain?”

I gave Nancy a smirk.  “It was only ten minutes.  I worked until seven last night, and I came in at seven-thirty this morning.”

“It doesn’t make me – I mean the department – look good.”

Brad walked up behind her.  “You were right the first time, Nan.”

“I’ve asked you to quit calling me that.  Besides this is none of your business.”   Nancy didn’t like me, but she despised Brad.

“Why don’t you fire her?  Then I’ll quit, too.  Let’s see how long this company will stay in business without its IT team.”  Brad was up to his old tricks.  “We’ll get a job somewhere else making twice as much as this place pays us.  Go on – do us a favor.  Fire her.”

“I’m not going to fire anyone.  I just want Katrina to realize that she’s taking advantage of her salaried paycheck.  If she punched a clock, she would be milking it for every minute.”  Nancy thought she was so smart.

“If I was punching a clock, I would get time and a half for all the hours I work before eight and after five.  Or I would sleep late and be home on time every day.”  Brad made it easy for me to stand up for myself.  I think that’s one reason I liked him so much.

“Let’s cut out the jokes and remember that this is a workplace, folks.  I don’t like being the bad guy...,”

“Sure you do,” Brad interrupted.

Nancy ignored his barb, “...but I am the IT manager.  I have to make sure my people follow the rules.  I’m not going to dock you or anything, Katrina.  This is just a warning.”  With that said, Nancy slithered back down the hall to her office.

“Now that the Wicked Witch is gone, why were you late, Kat?”  Concern filled Brad’s voice.  He was imagining a ten car pileup or an explosion that shook downtown.

“I just stayed in Hurricane Gardens too long.  Have you been over there yet?  That garden is really beautiful.”  Hurricane Gardens was in the center of downtown Foster’s Bank.  The gardens were the result of an effort to revitalize a long neglected and distressed section of town.

“I keep promising to go, but I never make it.  It’s probably for the best.  A rosebush would probably rip my leg open, causing an infection that would lead to gangrene and the amputation of my leg.  You know how my luck runs.”

“You are just so pitiful.  I’m amazed you ever get out of bed in the morning.”  I couldn’t help laughing a little.

“You are so right, Kat.  Sometimes, I just want to hide under the covers.  But then I think – whoa, you could suffocate under there.  It always seems that danger lurks around every corner – whether it’s at home or somewhere else.  So, I might as well take a chance and come to work.  After all, once I get here, it’s hard for even me to imagine a mishap while sitting at my computer all day.  We have a reasonably safe – if slightly boring – job.”

I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I kept quiet as I imagined an electrical problem that electrocuted Brad at his desk.  He had enough to worry about.

“Anyway,” I continued, “he showed up at the garden again.  He left well before I did, but I got caught up in a daydream.”

“I can’t believe that you are still moony over some guy you knew in high school.  Were your daydreams of marriage or just an affair?”  I never knew if my tales of Max bored Brad or if he just liked to tease me.

“The truth is, I was thinking about the day I met him...”  Even now, it would be easy to let myself slip back to that day.

“Now that’s a story I’ve heard a thousand times.  Suppose I was you for a moment.  When that stupid little geek asked Max if I was his girlfriend, my first reaction wouldn’t have been embarrassment.  I would have grabbed Max’s arm and said, ‘Why yes, I am his girl.’”  Brad was using his falsetto voice, and he sounded more like the stereotypical lisping homosexual than a young girl.

“Why?  I’m dying to know why.”  I wasn’t really, but Brad expected me to play along.

“Because I would have known then and there if Max abhorred me.  I wouldn’t have gone twenty some odd years wondering if I missed out on the love of my life.  You can bet that I wouldn’t have wasted more than five minutes wondering that anyway.  More importantly, I’d wonder if I could have had a date with Johnny.  From your description, he was always the one any self-respecting teenage girl would have wanted.”  Brad always rooted for Johnny but that was because he didn’t know Johnny the way I did.

“You just don’t know the whole story,” I said.  “I’ve never finished that story.”

“So tell me.  I really want to know what is so great about Max.  He must be something.  He kept you single all these years – except for that brief entanglement with Beefcake, or whatever his name was.”  Brad was referring to my brief marriage to Ben Bellanova.  That was another story altogether.

“I can’t tell you now.  Fancy Nancy will be back down here soon to see what we are gabbing about.  Some other time.”  Nancy didn’t mind spending several hours flirting with her boss or doing her nails or talking to one of her friends on the phone, but she watched Brad and I like a hawk.  We sorely missed the pre-Nancy days when Mel Shaker had been our boss.  He was a good sport and a hard worker.  Nancy was neither.

“Well, I’m not busy for dinner.  Why don’t you cook us up something tasty, and I’ll show up around seven?  First we’ll eat, and then we’ll talk.  I’m anxious to hear how the story ends.”  Brad would do anything for a home cooked meal, and – besides Olivia or Donna – there were few people I’d rather cook for.

“Sure.  I guess that’s okay.  I don’t want to bore you, though.”  Did the story of Max really interest Brad?

“You aren’t going to bore me.  There’s no one else I’d rather talk to, and I do want to understand why you’ve carried this flame for Max for all these years.  It’ll be better than anything on TV.  Especially if you cook spaghetti.  I’ll bring the wine and the garlic bread.”  Brad had never flattered me this way before.

“Are you sure it’s safe to eat my cooking?  Are you sure I clean my utensils properly?  Is my meat fresh?  Oh – by the way, be sure to get a real wine this time.  I’m not particularly crazy about Cold Duck.”  No matter what, I had to tease Brad about his paranoia.  One day all of his worrying was going to kill him.  Maybe one day I would suggest that.

“Okay, okay.  Boone’s Farm it is.  Strawberry should go fine with spaghetti.  As for your cleanliness, I’ll take my chances.  Now I’d better get back to work.  Slave-driver Martin will soon be making the rounds.”  Brad headed back across the hall.  For once he’d managed to come into my office without starting a speech about ignorant customers or even more ignorant coworkers.  In Brad’s eyes, he and I were the only intelligent people in the company.

I thought about Max for a moment and about the approaching evening with Brad.  Then I turned back to my work.  I really needed to review the payroll data before I went home.

Dinner with Brad was one laugh after another.  As he slurped his way through a mound of spaghetti while waxing eternally on the misfortunes that could befall unsuspecting diners, I could barely quit laughing long enough to eat.  And he hadn’t been kidding about the Boone’s Farm.  It wasn’t great – more like disgusting – but it served to lighten Brad’s usual morose frame of mind and to set the mood for the rest of the evening.

After dinner, Brad and I curled up on my couch with a glass of Boone’s Farm and my ninth grade yearbook.  First, I pointed out Olivia, Aurelia, and me, and then I moved on to Max and Johnny.  Brad made faces at all of them.  “I know this was the seventies, but all of you just look so – so – trendy.”

“Don’t you mean ‘hip’?  It was the seventies, remember?”

“Oh – exactly.  You were a bunch of hip cats, that’s for sure.”  The sarcasm in his voice was more delectable than the pink stuff in my glass.

Brad flipped some pages and came face to face with Monsieur Guest.  “This has to be that delightful French teacher of yours.  I can see where your Captain Kangaroo reference comes in, but, to me, he’s more of a Sergeant Schultz.  I can picture him right now in that German uniform.  Can’t you see it?  He seems too much of a bungler to be the good Captain.”

I’d never thought of it before, but Brad was right.  I could see Monsieur Guest’s bushy mustache and his rigid stance – all reminiscent of the incompetent character from Hogan’s Heroes.  And didn’t we students always sneak around behind the old man’s back, often leaving him feeling foolish and looking oafish?  I was suddenly envious of Brad’s insight.

Since Donna played a part in the story I was about to tell, I produced a picture of her – also from 1975 –from my wallet so Brad would know all the characters.

Donna was short and a bit chubby.  She was of Korean descent, but she had been adopted as a baby by a nice Irish Catholic family.  In the ninth grade, she wore her straight black hair in a pageboy cut that was very complementary to her creamy white skin.  Her cute little nose and sensual lips were noteworthy, but her eyes were her focal point.  They were dazzling milk chocolate in color and in the same alluring shape as cat’s eyes.  Her eyelashes were long, thick, and as black as night.  Donna was also very enchanting.  She was funny and clever and everyone loved being around her.  Many a young man had lost his heart to her beauty and her charms.

She entranced Brad right away.  “Why haven’t I ever met any of your friends?”  Donna was the one he was really talking about.

“She’s married,” I explained.

“Of course she is.”  Brad poured himself another glass of pink stuff.  “Okay, I know all the players.  Let’s hear this story of yours.”

I took a deep breath, and then I began traveling back in time again.

Chapter 4

I picked up the phone to call Donna.  For the next hour, I told her about Max, Johnny, and Travis, and then she told me that her day had been completely boring.  She told me that I was so lucky because I only had one sibling.  Donna had three – two brothers and a sister.  The worst part – to Donna anyway – was having an older sister with her in high school.  Apparently, Colleen – the older sister – had impaired Donna’s ability to make friends.  I told her that given time Colleen would find something better to do and would leave Donna alone.  Donna paused indicating that she didn’t believe me.  At three o’clock we hung up.  Her mom was due home at three-fifteen, and Donna couldn’t talk on the phone when her mom was around.

Donna’s mom was like that.  She was a tough disciplinarian.  Donna and her younger brothers, Thomas and Mark, were deathly afraid of Mrs. Daley.  Only Colleen stood up to their mom and showed no fear.  She had Mrs. Daley wrapped around her finger, and, being the oldest, she would take no gruff from the old lady.  She never disrespected her, but she did expect Mrs. Daley to treat her with respect as well.  And she got it, at least most of the time.  Mrs. Daley frightened me just as much as she frightened her kids.  She had a ferocious temper, especially when she had been drinking, and that was quite often.

Mr. Daley, on the other hand, was sweet and pleasant.  He spent most of his time at either his construction business or at home in the kitchen.  He loved to cook, and Mrs. Daley was happy to have him make all the family meals.  His specialty was Shepherd’s Pie, and it was a favorite of all the Daley children.  Mr. Daley often invited me to dine with them when he made this wonderful meal.   I did love the meal as much as his own children, but I rarely took him up on his offer.  Sharing a meal with Mrs. Daley was just too scary for me.

After my conversation with Donna, I started planning my future.  Whenever I did this, I went outside and talked it over with my dog, Lassie.  Lassie (a gorgeous collie, what else?) was my true best friend.  Lassie never told my secrets, and she never criticized.  We rolled on the soft green grass together, and I told Lassie all about Max.  Of course she favored the union.  Lassie always took my side in these matters.

My mother got home around five-fifteen.  I hinted a little to her about Max, but working all day at Brenda’s Boutique, a beauty salon that she managed, left her tired and cranky.  Mom didn’t make much money, but she liked getting away from home.  She had no desire to be a hair stylist; she was much more oriented towards clerical work – and she liked being the boss.  As she prepared dinner – fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits – I noticed how old she looked.  I’d never thought of her this way before, but now I noticed the crinkles on her face and the gray in her hair.  Mom was forty-four and now that seemed so old.  Still, she looked younger than some of my friends’ mothers – women who were younger than she was.  She often told me that the one good thing about being fat was how it fanned out your wrinkles and made you look younger.  I guessed that she was right, although I never thought my mom was very fat.  At one time, she had been thin, sleek, and beautiful.  Now she had a pudgy belly and large breasts – sometimes it was hard to find where one stopped and the other started.  Once, wavy blond hair had cascaded down her back.  These days, her hair was short, auburn, and permed.  She still had a gentle, remarkable face – punctuated by large blue eyes and a winning smile and peppered by light freckles and several moles.  She wore oversized rimmed glasses, and her face creased around her nose and mouth when she smiled.  Yes, she was still beautiful.  Not wanting to disturb her, I decided Max could wait for another day.

My daddy came home shortly after Mom.  He worked at Spencer’s Carpets as a salesman.  He made decent money selling carpet to businesses and individuals, and he believed that he worked ten times harder than Mom did.  Maybe he did, but I doubted it.  He seemed to have too much of a good time.   After suddenly noticing my mother’s aging, I decided to give Daddy a once over.  He still looked the same as always – he carried his age better than Mom, and he wasn’t even fat.  Daddy was an incredibly handsome man.  Of course, his jet black hair was receding a little, but what remained was still curly and thick.  He wore his hair in a short military cut – a style acquired during his Navy days.  Another memento of those days was the tattoos Daddy had on each arm.  One was an anchor along with the letters “U.S.N.”; the other was a dagger through a rose.  Daddy had small blue eyes and they became tiny slits whenever he laughed or smiled – and that was often.  He had a straight rounded nose that turned slightly up on the end.   His wide smile broke into laugh lines and dimples.  Daddy was thin and short, and his skin was dark brown – suggesting his Cherokee Indian heritage. His most unattractive feature was a rather large black mole on his right cheek.  Even that blemish couldn’t undermine his charm.  In every way, he was the perfect daddy.

Daddy sat down in his favorite chair and turned on the TV.  He’d be there for the remainder of the night, except during dinner.  Dinner was the one time the entire family got together and actually spent time together.  Sometimes it was pleasant, but often it wasn’t.

With no one to talk to, I retreated to my room.  I walked past my dresser mirror, and I paused to look at myself.  My hair was dark blond and cut short in back with feathered bangs.  Mitzi, one of the beauticians at Brenda’s Boutique, told me that short hair would make me look slimmer.  It wasn’t working.  My face was oval, but my fat cheeks made it look round.  I wasn’t ugly, but being fat kept most people from noticing.  I had the high cheek bones of my Indian grandmother and the large eyes of my mother – although mine were hazel instead of blue.  I had a nose like my father and even a black mole just like his on my cheek – I called it a beauty mark.  My smile was mine alone – perfect teeth and thin lips.  I wore wire framed glasses with tinted lenses – and I hated them.   Even more, I hated my body.  I was about twenty-five pounds overweight and for someone my age, that might as well be one-hundred.  Even so, I didn’t dwell on my weight most of the time.  Quite often I thought of myself as being just like everyone else.  It was only when I approached a mirror that I became acutely aware of my true size.  Okay, also when I squeezed into a blue polyester dress.  Ouch.  Or when people called me names like whale, pig, or behemoth.  Double ouch.

I walked over to my stereo and popped in an eight-track tape.  Jim Croce’s lamented voice crooned “Operator,” and I lost myself in one of my little fantasy worlds.  “Rapid Roy the Stock Car Boy” was just starting when Mom opened my door and said dinner was ready.  In a rankled voice she added, “And please turn that music down.”  Neither she nor my dad could understand the legendary music Croce left behind.  In their eyes, if one of the three greats – Hank, Haggard, or Jones – didn’t do it, then it wasn’t real music.  I reluctantly pulled out the tape and headed for the dinner table.  It would be enough to dream about Max later.

The rest of that first week was mostly unremarkable.  I did discover that Max lived on the other end of my street, and, by Friday, I knew that his last name was Savage and that he was a junior.  No one had teased me about him anymore, but then no one knew how I felt about him yet.

I had also learned some things about Johnny.  His last name was Roberts, he was a sophomore, and Dominique had a huge crush on him.  I learned the last thing on the way home Friday.  Dominique was sitting alone in a seat, and Johnny sat down beside her.  He hardly seemed to notice her, but his presence certainly pleased her.  Aurelia couldn’t contain herself.  She revealed Dominique’s crush, but she swore me to secrecy.  I agreed to stay quiet, and we giggled about Dominique’s situation all the way home.

Everything else was just school.  It was already becoming a grind.  Getting off the bus Friday afternoon, I told Erma that I was glad it was the weekend.  Erma and I were becoming distant friends, but we had little in common.  Erma was rough, bossy, and sometimes mean.  I feared her much more than I liked her.  Nevertheless, she was someone to talk to every morning, and she was another person I could sit with on the bus.

Friday – that magic gateway to the weekend.  Best of all, Donna was spending the night with me.  Her dad was bringing her over at three-thirty – only an hour away.  I rushed home and changed into some shorts and my Cat Stevens T-shirt, and then I ate a bowl of dill pickles covered with BBQ sauce – one of my favorite snacks.  By the time Donna arrived, I was thirty-six minutes into “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Donna was wearing a red shirt with balloon patterns all over it and a pair of blue knit shorts.  It was the same outfit she had on the last time I saw her.  And the time before that.  It must be her favorite, I concluded.  It never occurred to me that she might not have as many clothes as I did.

I fixed Donna a glass of Pepsi without ice – that’s how she wanted it – and a grilled cheese sandwich.  Then, while we watched the rest of the movie, I told her that my mom was cooking shrimp scampi for dinner.  To say Donna was jubilant would be the biggest understatement of all time.  Donna loved shrimp scampi more than anything – yes, even life – and she only got to eat it when she visited me.  Donna’s brother Thomas was allergic to shrimp, so their mother had banned all seafood from their house.

It delighted me to please my friend so easily.  And the shrimp announcement wasn’t the only good news I had for her.  “Guess what else?”  I knew she’d never guess.

“Glen Campbell is going to be on The Midnight Special?”  How did she do that?

“Well,” I couldn’t let her know that she’d guessed my big surprise, “I guess he is.  But better than that, I’m going to show you where Max lives.”  So it wasn’t a great surprise, so what?

“Um, okay.  Can I meet him?”  Can you believe she asked me that?

“Meet him?  Of course not!  I don’t want him to know I like him.  He and I aren’t friends or anything like that.”  Besides, he might think Donna was cuter than me.  “Let’s finish watching the movie,” I said to distract Donna from this line of thinking.  It worked.  Fortunately for me, Donna had a short attention span.

The movie ended at five, and Donna and I went outside for a walk down Heritage Street, the street I lived on.  “I don’t know which house he lives in, but it’s down past my bus stop.”

“I thought I was going to see his house.”  What did Donna expect from me?  I wasn’t a detective.

“Maybe he’ll be outside, and we’ll see where he lives.”  What were the odds of that happening?  Pathetically slim, I hoped.

We topped the hill that marked my bus stop, and then we continued down Heritage on the other side.  The second house on the left was Erma’s.  I knew this because Erma’s dad ran a TV repair shop, and the shop’s van was in the driveway.  I immediately noticed some people were outside at the third house on the right.  It was some of the boys from the bus stop: Terrance, Amos, and Mason.  They were horsing around in someone’s front yard.

“Is that him?  Is that him?”  Donna was loud enough to get the whole neighborhood’s attention.  The three nitwits stopped and turned to stare at us.

“That’s not him.”  My voice was hissing worse than a leaky steam pipe.

“Okay, okay.  Just checking.”  Even if Max appeared, I doubted I’d point him out to Donna now.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Kat.  And she’s brought a friend.  This doesn’t look like one of your usual fleas, Kat.”  Mason said.  He was the mouth of the group.  Amos was somewhat reticent, and Terrance had to get warmed up.

“Ignore them,” I whispered to Donna.  Too late.

“Hi, I’m Donna.”  She’d honed in on Mason.  His pimpled face and black horn rimmed glasses didn’t seem to bother her.  I’d have to warn her later that he was also in ROTC.

“Donna?  You look sort of familiar.  Maybe I’ve met you before.”  Mason looked as if his brain was working overtime.  It might burst through his forehead at any moment.

“Center Middle.  You’re Mason Pearson, right?”  It looked as though she really knew him.

“Donna...,” I openly revealed the irritation in my voice.  “We need to be going.”

“Why?”  Mason equally displayed the ridicule in his voice.  “Max can see you perfectly well from here, since he lives in the house across the street.  Of course, if you’re looking for Johnny, his house is way over on Bridgeport.  He walks almost a mile to the bus stop every morning.  He just likes our bus better than the one that goes by his house.”

“Oh, Kat, did you hear that?  Max lives right over there.”  Just in case the whole town of Foster’s Bank didn’t hear her, she pointed towards the house and said, “Right over there at number 227.”

She always found a way to leave me stupefied.  For several moments I stood by silently while Mason and Donna continued their chatter.  Terrance kept whispering in Amos’ ear and then chuckling loudly.  I knew he was mocking me, but I was powerless to fight back for a moment.

When I finally found my tongue, I said simply, “You can talk to these boneheads all day if you want, but I’m going home.”

As I turned to walk back towards my house, I looked at the house across the street.  Max wasn’t outside, but some other people were.  I guessed that they were Max’s parents.  The man was about Max’s height.  He’d lost most of his hair on top, and what remained around the edges was white.  He was wearing black rimmed glasses and a blue uniform like the ones the carpet installers at Spencer’s Carpets wore.  He was standing beside an old blue Buick Skylark station wagon with its hood open.  I recognized the type of car because our family had owned one when I was much younger.  The woman was standing at the front door watching a little dog run around in the yard.  She looked like one of those dolls that you can make from Styrofoam balls: her head was a small ball, her body was a large ball, and her arms and legs were pipe cleaners.  In her left hand she held a bottle of Miller High Life beer, and, to prove it was hers, she turned it up and took a long swig.  She was wearing a red horizontally striped shirt and a pair of skintight red polyester shorts.  Obviously wanting to be color coordinated in every way, her nose and cheeks were also a bright shade of red, but her hair was a dull white-gray mixture.  I guess she had never heard of Nice ‘N Easy.

“Alex, could you hand me Corky?”  I heard her ask in a husky voice.  For the first time, I noticed the cigarette in her right hand.  She moved it hastily to her mouth, and, after a long draw, she left it dangling between her lips as she took the squirming dog from the man’s hands.

As I walked away, one thought was on my mind: What a wonderful mother-in-law she’ll make.

Soon Donna was on my heels.  “Why’d you leave?  They were sort of friendly.  They might help you with Max.”

“I don’t need their help.  I guess I don’t need yours either.”  I picked up the pace.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”  She sounded sincere enough.  I decided to forgive her.  She was my best friend after all.

At home, we sat down to shrimp scampi, salad, and biscuits.  My mom was the best cook in the world.  Donna thought so, too.  She put away a ton of shrimp.  My dad told jokes and funny stories that kept us laughing through the whole meal.

Later, Donna and I were talking in my room.  She was telling me about two boys – both named Steve – that she liked.  She told me that Steve Jennings was very cute, but Steve Grice had a better personality.  Both boys liked her, but she couldn’t decide which one she liked the best.

“What’s Max’s last name?” she asked.

“Savage,” I told her.  “Why?”

“I don’t know.  I just thought he might be in Colleen’s old yearbook.  Remember?  She went to WMHS last year before they changed the school boundaries.”  I did remember, and I thought it might be fun to see Max’s old picture.

Just then, Donna said she needed to go to the bathroom.  She left out of the room and I put on my Donny Osmond album – the one my brother gave me for my eleventh birthday.  It had all my favorites: “Puppy Love”, Hey Girl” and “Hey There, Lonely Girl”.  At first, I forgot Donna, so I didn’t wonder why she was taking so long.  But after the first side of the album ended, I noticed that she still hadn’t returned.

I looked out into the hall, and the bathroom door was standing open.  I didn’t see Donna anywhere.  As I stepped into the hallway, I thought I heard Donna’s voice in the living room.   Slipping around the corner, I saw her standing by the couch with the phone in her hand; the phone book lay on the couch spread open.  No one else was present; apparently my parents had gone to bed.  Then I heard Donna say, “She rides your bus.  Her name is Katrina Kipling or Kat.  Do you know her?”

Donna was quiet for a moment, and then she continued.  “What does she look like?  Well, she has short blond hair, she wears glasses, and – uh, she’s a girl, and – um, she’s thirteen.  I don’t know – she just looks like a Kat.”

I had a sickening feeling that I knew who Donna was talking to.  Still, I held my breath and gave her the benefit of a doubt.  “You are Max Savage, right?”  Pause.  “I was just wondering.  You’re very slow to catch on.  She’s got to be the only girl that has a crush on you.  She’s a ninth grader.  She lives at 314 Heritage Street.  We were standing right in front of your house today.  She was the one that wasn’t quite so cute.  I was the cute one.”

Enough was enough.  “Donna!  What are you doing?”  I came rushing into the living room.

“Kat, he wants to talk to you.”  She was holding the phone out towards me.

I didn’t know what to do, so I took the phone.  “Hello?”

There was a deep voice on the other end, “Is this Kat?”

“Yes.”  My voice was shaking.

“You’re the girl I sat with the other day on the bus?”

“Y – y – yes.”  I was really losing it.

“Okay.  Oh, and tell your friend not to call me anymore, okay?”

“Sure.  Whatever you say.  I’m sorry.”

“No need.  It wasn’t your fault.”  The phone went dead, and a dial tone reverberated through my head.  “Now it’s time to kill Donna,” it was saying to me.

In the meantime, Donna had turned the TV on.  It was almost time for her “man”, Glen Campbell.  How could I kill her?  She was just being Donna.  She thought she was doing me a favor.  Maybe she had.  Max and I had talked, even if it was briefly.  I settled in beside Donna and decided to let her live another day.  Glen Campbell needed her.  She was his number one fan.

After a bit, I noticed it was twelve-thirty.  Glen Campbell had been introduced and was finally singing.  His first song was Donna’s favorite, “Rhinestone Cowboy”.  As it ended, I realized that Donna hadn’t been singing or oohing or ahhing.  I looked over at her.  She was sound asleep.  I thought of waking her, but I didn’t.  Revenge was sweet.

The next morning, Donna begged me to go on another walk.  I was hesitant, but I thought we might see Max, so I relented.  As we approached the top of the hill, I saw Johnny, Max, Terrance, Amos, and Mason playing football in the street.  Mason saw us, too, and he started yelling.  I didn’t know what he was saying because he was eight or ten houses away in the middle of the block.  All I do know is that everyone turned around to stare at us.

“Let’s go back.”  Yes, I was a chicken.

“No.  I missed my baby Glen last night – you’ve got to let me have some fun.”  Did I say revenge was sweet?

“Please, Donna,” I begged.

Donna ignored me as usual.  She kept walking, and stupid me kept following her.  As Donna passed the boys, she was winking and smiling and flirting with them.  As I passed, I tried to look straight ahead and pretend they weren’t there.

“Hell-o.”  Johnny took Donna’s bait.

“Hi.  You must be Johnny?”  Great.  Now they all knew I’d been telling her about them.

“Who wants to know?”  He was as slick as Donna was.

“Donna.  Donna Daley.”  She extended her hand as if she expected him to kiss it.  I kept walking.

“Are we gonna play ball or what?”  Mason was growing tired of this insipid little interlude.  For once, he and I saw eye-to-eye.

“You guys go on without me.  The teams were lopsided anyway.”  Johnny intended to really spend time with Donna.

By now, everyone was ignoring me, and I couldn’t have been happier.  Still, I couldn’t walk away and leave Donna with Johnny – not with Max so close at hand.  I was well past everyone, so I turned around to face them while continuing to walk backwards away from them.  The last things I remember were the resounding thud as something ran into me and the resonant ringing that filled my head as I hit the ground.

When I opened my eyes, I could hear Donna’s voice, but I couldn’t see her.  No, I wasn’t blind.  Someone was blocking my view.  A blurry shadow was standing over me with a damp washcloth, and they kept washing my face over and over.  I was lying on a couch, but I didn’t know where I was.

“She’s waking up.”  The “someone” that was above me was a guy.  His deep voice was as of yet indistinct to me.

“Whew,” I heard Donna say.  “I just knew her mom was gonna kill me for letting her die.”  That’s Donna – always full of concern.

“I think she’ll be okay.  It was just a little bump.  I didn’t mean to hit her.”  My eyes were focusing.  Was it Max showing all this concern?

“She shouldn’t have turned around.”  I knew Terrance’s squeaky little biting voice.

The guy standing over me wasn’t Max.  It wasn’t Johnny.  He looked familiar, but I still hadn’t regained my senses.  It wasn’t Terrance or Amos.  Thank God it wasn’t Mason.  But who?  No, it couldn’t be…Anyone but Travis Cartwright.

“Are you okay?”  It was Travis all right.

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing Travis away.  “Just let me get up.”  My head started spinning, and I fell back onto the couch.  “I just need to sit here for a few minutes.”

“Would you like some Pepsi?”  Max was here!  Maybe this was his house.

“We don’t have any Pepsi.”  Mason.  Oh, jeez.  This was Mason’s house.  “My mom only buys Dr. Pepper.”

“Ice water would be okay.”  I always preferred water to any other drink – especially if it was ice cold.

I noticed that Johnny wasn’t in the room.  Donna was feigning concern, but I knew that she was just perturbed.  Johnny had left in a time of distress, and he hadn’t even cared that Donna might be in trouble over the whole thing.  Some charming hero he turned out to be.  Maybe Terrance, Mason, and Amos were pesky, but at least they didn’t run away from a crisis.  And maybe Travis wasn’t so bad after all.

Mason handed me a glass of ice water.  “What happened to me?” I asked.

Mason began, “You were walking backwards...,”

Donna added, “Travis was approaching us on his bike...,”

Travis finished.  “I thought that you stopped.  I – I guess…I was trying to tease you.  I wanted to zip by you and scare you.  But you were walking, and I misjudged.  I ran into you with my bike.  I’m sorry.”

I thought for a moment.  Travis no longer looked like a convict – just a scared boy.  “It’s okay,” I finally said.  “It was an accident.  But how did I wind up in Mason’s house?”

“Travis carried you in.”  Donna could hardly contain the excitement in her voice.

“His back is probably in worse shape than your head.”  Mason always had an insult handy.

“She was light as a feather.”  The look in Travis’s eyes nauseated me.

“I think we’d better break this up and all go home.”  Max sounded disgusted.  Was he jealous?  I could only hope.

I was feeling better, so we all left Mason’s house.  I wanted to walk home, but Travis insisted that I ride with him on his bike.  Luckily, his bike had a banana seat, so we both fit.  As he whisked me away, Donna followed on foot.  At home, I climbed off his bike and thanked him for the ride.

“I really am sorry.”  He looked so miserable.

“I know.  It’s okay.  You didn’t mean it.”  I just wanted him to leave.

“You forgive me?”  What he wanted was becoming clearer by the minute.

“Yeah, sure.  Whatever.  Now I better get inside.  I’ve got a killer headache.”  Go away.  I don’t like you.  Can I be any plainer?

“Okay.  See ya at the bus stop Monday.  Bye.”  Thank goodness he was leaving.

Donna walked up, and we went inside.  She had a sly smile on her face.  I pretended not to notice.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Travis?  He likes you,” her eyes twinkled with mischief.  “You did know that, right?”  She was so intuitive.

“I don’t like him.  Not that way.  My heart belongs to Max.”  How many times did I have to explain?

“You wouldn’t like him if you’d heard all the things he said about you.  Travis was about to jump on him.  I think you should concentrate on Travis.”  Notice how she didn’t specifically say what Max said.

“I’ve got a headache.  I’m gonna lie down.  What time are you leaving?”  I wanted it to be soon.

“Dad won’t be by until after three.  We’ve still got hours to be together.  You rest for a while.  I’ll fix lunch, and then we’ll watch TV.  It’s almost time for American Bandstand.”  Count on Donna to act as if nothing had happened.  I retreated to my room and vowed that Donna wouldn’t spend the night again for a very long time.

I expected Monday to be another embarrassing day, but I was wrong.  Only Travis mentioned the incident, and I told him I didn’t want to talk about it.  Otherwise, it was a perfectly boring day at WMHS – the beginning of a boring week.

Olivia, Aurelia, and I were becoming closer.  I now looked forward to lunch for other reasons besides eating.  I told them about my weekend mishap, and they found the whole story quite comical.  They made me see the humor in it, too.  Thanks to them, I started finding humor in a lot of things.

As the weeks passed, I became complacent at WMHS.  Max was always around at lunch and in the mornings before school, but he never talked to me or showed an interest.  Travis persisted with his advances, but I played them off as a joke.  Most things stayed the same.  I was, however, adding to my list of friends.

Alice Lawson was a girl in my homeroom class.  She had round plump cheeks and an engaging smile.  She was also in my Biology class, so we eventually forged a friendship.  Alice knew of my crush on Max, and she offered to help me with him.  Her dark eyes lit up whenever she got a chance to help one of her friends.  She was small and wiry, but she always stood up to the mean girls when they started making fun of me.  Alice introduced me to several of those girls, and soon they were treating me with more kindness.  Alice convinced me that she could even persuade Max to love me if I gave her the chance.

Diane Griffin, the mouse from my English class, and I were also becoming friends.  Diane was painfully shy, but she seemed to come alive when I showed her attention.  Diane reminded me of a meek little old lady.  Her feathery blond hair was almost white and she parted it in the middle; her pale pink scalp was visible underneath.  She always wore a white cardigan sweater – even on the hottest summer day.  A frilly shirt usually peeked out from under the open buttons, and the shirt’s collar rested neatly on the outside of her sweater.  She usually wore twill cotton pants, and she had every color imaginable.  Her favorite color – pink – seemed to always pop up in either her clothes or an accessory.  The end of her small round nose provided an excellent resting place for a pair of wire-framed, hexagon-shaped granny glasses.  She looked very studious, and she was.  She would eventually join my little lunch group, but that wouldn’t happen until she got to know everyone.

Olivia and I had also befriended a girl in our PE class.  Deidra was an African-American girl with a very light skin color, reddish-blond hair, and blue eyes.  Many of the kids at school spurned her and called her “Albino”.  It never crossed my mind – or Olivia’s – to make fun of the way Deidra looked. We made friends with her and tried to protect her from the taunts of the other girls in PE.  Sadly, Deidra had other problems that caused her constant ridicule.  She was somewhat slowwitted and extremely trusting, making her the butt of many jokes.  One day, after eavesdropping on one of my conversations with Olivia, she got the strange idea that Max was my boyfriend and that our marriage was imminent.  Shamefully, Olivia and I added fuel to that flame – it was just too good of a joke for us to let it pass.  We soon had Deidra believing that Max and I had secretly married, and we made her swear to keep quiet.  After a few weeks of this ruse, Olivia and I started feeling guilty and decided to tell Deidra the truth.  She never spoke to us again after that.  It seemed that our cruel joke was the one that finally turned Deidra from a naïve girl to a hardened young woman.  Later, as an adult, I would still have trouble forgiving myself.

There were people on the bus that I became acquainted with, too.  Erma and I weren’t what you might call friends, but we were associates.  She protected me from jerks like Mason, and I helped her with algebra.  I met Howdy Doody and Opie, the twins.  Their real names were Ernie and Curtis Burton, and they weren’t twins at all – just brothers who looked alike.  Ed Hanson, a freshman that was in several classes with me, often bent my ear in the afternoon.  With his curly brown hair and chubby baby face, many of the girls on the bus were in love with him.  Even Lydia Burns, a blond-haired, blue-eyed cheerleader, had designs on Ed.  And Lydia was a sophomore.  She was also the twinkle in good old Curtis Burton’s eye, but he’d never get a chance to date her.  One day in the future she would become Mrs. Ed Hanson, and, after she gained about a hundred pounds, she would become the ex-Mrs. Ed Hanson.

There were few other noteworthy characters on the bus.  Keith Burrows was worth mentioning only because he was Max’s friend.  Keith – a senior – had bushy brown hair.  He was tall and gangly and not very attractive; his nose was too long and pointy, and his eyes were too close together.  He did have one thing going in his favor: he wasn’t rude and ill-mannered like Max’s other friends.  Once, while I was sitting in the front seat on the bus, Keith sat down beside me.  From the back of the bus came these facetious remarks from Mason, “Keith, you’d better watch out.  You’re messing with Max’s woman now.”

Keith only smiled at me.  It seemed to be a smile of pity.  I hated him for it.  After the bus stopped and Keith got off, Max came up and sat beside me.  I expected Mason to let loose again, but no.  Max didn’t look at me or say anything.  He just sat staring straight ahead with his arm extended out so he could hold on to the metal bar in front of our seat.  At our stop, he let me off first and then he told me goodbye.  At last, it seemed, I was making progress.  Slowly but surely.

Chapter 5

I took a deep breath and looked over at Brad.  He was smiling and still very much awake.

“Do you ever go out with this guy?”  He shook his head in wonder.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”  I couldn’t spoil the ending.  “Are you sure you want me to go on?  This story can’t be that interesting.”

“Well, maybe you could speed up a little.  I liked the story about Donna.  And the short one about Keith was okay, too.  Heck, you’re doing fine.  Let me refill our glasses and you can continue.”

I watched Brad walk across the room.  He paused by the front door and slipped his shoes off and then went into the kitchen.  I hoped he wasn’t getting too comfortable.  Brad was my friend – we could never be more than that.

“I’ll just have some ice water.”  I decided that one of us had to keep a clear head.

“Tell me something.”  Brad’s voice boomed out from the other room.  “How did you and that Bellanova guy ever get together?   I mean, Max has been impeding you from relationships since high school.  Where was he when you met Ben?”

I didn’t want to discuss Ben Bellanova.  I’d met him during a time in my life when I thought Max was finally out of my system.  After three years of marriage, I discovered that Max was still flourishing in my dreams and fantasies.  Or maybe it was Ben that found out.

“I thought you were here to learn about my obsession with Max.  How did Ben get in here?”  Brad emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of ice water.

The question mark in my head must have shown on my face.  “What?” Brad was squawking.  “Can’t I have any of your precious water?”

“Of course.  I just thought you wanted more wine.  And I use the term wine very loosely.”

“The bottle was empty.  Now, about Ben...”  Boy, was Brad ever persistent.

“About Ben nothing!  We’re talking about Max.  I’ll tell you about Ben another time.  Or I could send you home...”  Now I’d know if my stories really interested Brad.

“No – no.  You’re right.  We’ll save Ben for another time.  So what happened next?  I’m not sure how far – in months or whatever – the story has reached.  Did all of this happen in the first weeks of school?”

“No.  I’m getting somewhat close to Christmas.  Max’s birthday was in November, and – coincidentally – so was Johnny’s.  Right around that time, I learned what a jerk Johnny really was.”

“Hold that thought.  I just noticed the time.”

“Is it late?”  I had almost forgotten work the next day.

“It’s almost eleven.  I guess this will have to wait.”  Brad seemed genuinely disappointed.

“Yeah, you should get home.”

“Nancy will have my ass if I’m late tomorrow,” Brad said as he slipped his shoes back on.

We said goodbye at the door, and, for a moment, I feared Brad would try to kiss me.  He didn’t.  I watched him get into his red Bronco and drive away.  I shut the door feeling lonelier than I had in a long time.

The next day, Olivia called me at work and asked me to meet her for lunch.  We decided to meet at Salvatore’s, a small Italian eatery that we both enjoyed.  When I arrived, Olivia was sitting in our favorite booth.  She looked different somehow.  Her dark brown hair was still in the same short style.  Like me, she was no thinner, but she wasn’t heavier either.  Her brown skirt and starched white blouse depicted the usual strictly business attire that her office manager job required.  Still, she was different.

Seeing me for the first time, she stood up and embraced me.  Even though we saw each other frequently, we still liked to remind each other how much we cared.

“I ordered you the lasagna.  You should be tired of it, but I know it’s the only thing on the menu that you will eat.”  Olivia knew me.  She knew me very well.

“I guess you’re having something full of vegetables?  Did you get me some sweet tea?”

“No.  I mean, yes – I ordered tea, and no, I’m having the lasagna, too.”  Her expression was mysterious.  She was hiding something.

“So why did you call this powwow?  You only eat out when something is up.  Did you meet someone?  Come on, tell me.”   My curiosity had peaked.

“I’m going back to college.  I’ve decided to get my Law Degree.  What do you think?”

“I think you are thirty-eight years old, and you have a great job already.  You should be looking for a husband, not a new career.”  I gave her a stern look.

“Okay.  Now tell me what you really think.”

I jumped up and went over and hugged her neck.  “I’m so happy for you, Olivia.  I know you’ve wanted this for a long time.  Are you leaving Carson & Carson?”  Carson & Carson was the accounting firm she worked for.

“Not yet.  I still need an income.  They are working with me.  I’m going to do some of my work at night.  I won’t be the office manager anymore, but they aren’t cutting my pay.”

Now I knew what was different about Olivia.  This new direction in her life excited her.  She was moving on to a new plane.  Olivia couldn’t afford to finish college back when I did.  Since then, she’d often dreamed of going back for a degree.  Her dream could finally come true.

When my tea arrived, I held the glass up and said, “To Olivia, my friend the lawyer.”  Then I added, “Your services will be free to your best friend, right?”

We laughed and enjoyed our meal.  Too soon it was over.  I told Olivia to call me, and we parted ways.  I had thoroughly enjoyed my time with my friend, and I still made it back to work on time.

Brad was in my office.

“Nance checked out for the rest of the day.  She’s getting a head start on the weekend.  What do you have on tap?”

“For the weekend or for today?”

“Both.”

“Today I have to make those changes to the customer file.  Everything else is open.”

“Good.  I’ll cook dinner tonight, and we’ll continue our little talk.”  Brad’s interest was truly amazing.  What had come over him?

“You can cook?  In the fourteen years we’ve known each other, you’ve never mentioned cooking as one of your strong points.”  I’d always pictured Brad as a helpless man.

“There are a few things that I can throw together.  I was thinking of beef stroganoff.”

“Do you put sour cream in it?”

“Of course.  Without sour cream, it’s just beef and noodles.  Might as well have Hamburger Helper.”

“Do you add the sour cream last?”

“Why all these sour cream questions?  Yes.”  Brad was getting agitated.

“Okay.  Fix me a plate before you add the sour cream and you’ve got a deal.  I’ll be there at seven.”

“Picky, picky.  You’d probably like it if you tried it.”  Here we go again.  Everyone is always worrying about my diet.

“Are you gonna force me to eat sour cream?  If you are, I’m not coming.”  A grown woman knows what she likes.

“Whatever.  I’ll see you at seven.  If you don’t want to bring wine, Budweiser will do.  If you think you want to get drunk, bring your PJ’s.”  Not a chance.

That night, after the beef stroganoff, I continued my story as Brad put away a six pack...

Chapter 6

I had a plan.  It was perfect.  I would give Max a Christmas gift.  He’d have to say something then.  The next step was to choose the perfect gift.  I was open for suggestions, so I decided to tell some of my friends and get their reactions.

I told Karen about my scheme when I reached French class.  She thought it was a terrible idea.  Karen always tried to distract me from Max anyway.  I think she was jealous.  She didn’t want me to have other friends, much less a boyfriend.  I disregarded her opinion as envious prattle.

Laura listened when I told her of my intentions.  She tried to act supportive, but her heart wasn’t in it.  Lately, Laura had become friends with Felicia Houston – a short brunette with big blue eyes – who was in her Algebra class.  Laura wanted the three of us to be friends, but I didn’t know Felicia well enough to like her.  Felicia gave me the impression that she didn’t like me, and I thought she wanted Laura all to herself.  So far, Felicia was winning.  I didn’t really mind because I was working on my friendships with Olivia and Aurelia.  I could accept Laura’s lessening importance in my life.  Besides, I still had her during English.

Laura finally told me that I shouldn’t give Max a gift.  I disregarded her opinion as disinterest in the subject matter.

During Biology, Alice became excited when I told her about my idea.  She even volunteered to deliver the gift for me.  I told her that I would think about it.  For the time being, I was planning to deliver the gift myself.

Olivia and I talked about the gift while we dressed out for PE.  I excitedly laid out my game plan, and Olivia listened intently.  After I finished, she was quiet.  If she shot my plan down, I’d know it was because she didn’t like Max.  There was no way that this was a bad idea.

“What if he doesn’t take it?  What will you do?”  She didn’t like Max.  She was trying to poke holes in my strategy.  But she did have a valid point.

“I don’t know.  He has to take it.  He wouldn’t embarrass me like that.”   Max was too kind.

“He wouldn’t?  Okay, if you’re sure.  I don’t know him as well as you do.  It actually sounds like a great idea to me.  Good luck.  What are you getting him?”  She liked the plan.  Great.

We talked a little more, and I told her I hadn’t decided what to get him.  She told me she would try to think of something, too.

I presented my idea to Aurelia and Dominique right before we boarded the bus, and they liked it.  I was finally gaining the support I needed.  Still, no one had any thoughts about what the gift should be.  Perhaps the perfect gift would present itself in time.  I still had two weeks before Christmas vacation.

Aurelia sat with me on the bus that afternoon.  We were near the back, and Dominique was sitting up front with Lydia Burns.  Johnny and Max were in the backseat, and Terrance and Mason were right behind Aurelia and me.

Things had been quiet lately so I wasn’t expecting any trouble that day.  The bus was just about to leave WMHS when Johnny pushed the door open with his foot and climbed inside.  After tripping over Larry Burton’s feet and then falling down in Erma’s lap, Johnny made his way towards the back of the bus.  I knew something was about to happen.

As he passed by, I could smell the alcohol fragrance that emanated from Johnny’s body.  He sat down in the back across from Max, and I heard the clanking sound of glass.  I glanced back and saw that Johnny was holding a bottle of Southern Comfort.  He took a large gulp of the honey-colored liquid and offered the bottle to Max, but Max waved it away.  Johnny proceeded to empty the bottle as we made our way home.

Aurelia and Dominique exited the bus when we reached the first stop.  As I waved goodbye, I noticed that the back of the bus had grown strangely quiet.   I was anticipating an outburst from Mason since that seemed to be an everyday occurrence, but the subject matter wasn’t exactly what I had expected.

“Aren’t you gonna wave goodbye to your girlfriend, Johnny?”  Mason asked slyly.

“What?  Who?”  Johnny was blathering like the drunken idiot he was.

“Dominique.  She just got off the bus.  I think she’s waving at you.”

I was curious to hear Johnny’s response.  For all I knew, Johnny might like Dominique.  She was very pretty.  I should have realized that it was all but taboo for whites to date blacks.  It was the South, and some things hadn’t changed in over a hundred years.  Still, I hoped that Johnny would just tell Mason to shut up, the way Max did when Mason had inferred that I was Max’s girlfriend.  In the end, I wished I had gotten off the bus with my two friends.

“That nigger is not my girlfriend!”  Johnny was yelling at the top of his voice.

“She’s not entirely black,” I heard Mason say.  “Her mother is white.”

“In my book, she’s a nigger.”  Johnny was causing my blood pressure to boil – and I’m not sure I even knew what that meant back then.

I could hear a voice inside my head saying, “She’s your friend.  Aren’t you going to say something?”

I wanted to, believe me.  But remember, I’m a big coward.  Talking up to anyone was difficult for me, but talking up to Johnny was impossible.  Luckily, someone else spoke up.

“Johnny!”  It was Mrs. Decker the bus driver.  She stopped the bus well in advance of the second bus stop.

Johnny ignored her until Max pushed him out of the seat.  “What, Mrs. D?” he finally asked.

“Get off my bus right now.”  She opened the door and pointed outside.

“Wha…what?  You gotta be kidding?”  Johnny had made it to the front of the bus by now.

“I’m not kidding, Johnny Roberts.  I’ll put up with a lot of things, but you will not use that word on this bus.”  She was usually quiet about happenings on the bus.  She let the kids smoke, and she rarely chastised anyone for anything.  But she was letting Johnny have it.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. D.  I’ll never say it again.”  Johnny couldn’t have sounded less sincere.

Mrs. Decker was having no part of his apology.  “If you want to apologize, you need to tell it to Dominique – then you can ride my bus again.  If you don’t tell her you’re sorry, I’m not letting you back on.  Now get off.  Otherwise, I’ll have Max throw you off.”

Max stood up, and I believed he would really throw Johnny off the bus.  He looked very angry.

Johnny didn’t give him a chance.  He got off on his own.  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I apologize to that mulatto bitch,” he yelled.  “I don’t have to ride your bus, Old Lady.  I don’t ride with nigger‑lovers anyway.”  Johnny flipped Mrs. Decker a bird, turned around, and walked away.

From that day forward, things were different.  For one thing, Johnny never rode our bus again, and I never saw him hang out with Max again.  I was never able to tell Dominique or Aurelia about the event – I couldn’t bring myself to hurt their feelings like that – but I promised myself that I would somehow make up for the cruel words Johnny said.  Even if Dominique and Aurelia never knew.

The biggest impact was on my view of Johnny and Max.  I now detested Johnny for his asinine bigoted behavior, and, because Max put his principles above his friendship with Johnny, I loved him even more than I had before.

Another plus: this was the closest thing to a race riot that ever happened during my years at WMHS.  My worries and fears began to alleviate when I discovered that most of the kids on my bus were not racist at all, and I felt that was a good representation of the school.  WMHS was beginning to look like an okay school after all.

Olivia and I decided to go shopping for Max’s gift.  We took a city bus to the mall and spent most of the day just looking around.  We tried on expensive clothes in exclusive shops and pretended to be rich girls planning for a weekend yachting trip.  We dined on free samples and “Beef-on-a-Stick” at Hickory Farms, and then we had a refreshing Orange Julius to quench our thirsts.  Afterwards, we window-shopped the jewelry stores and pointed out which engagement rings we wanted our imaginary boyfriends to buy us.

Suddenly, Olivia let out a little squeal.  Rushing to her side to assure myself that she was all right, I saw it out of the corner of my eye.  Olivia had found the perfect gift for Max – a sterling silver ID bracelet.  We rushed inside the jewelry store and quickly rushed back out when we heard that the price was sixty-seven dollars.  I felt deflated, but I didn’t have twenty dollars, much less sixty-seven.

“Let’s look around for other stores that have jewelry.  Maybe we can find something cheaper.”  Olivia was always full of good advice.

We visited all the jewelry stores first, and then we tried the department stores.  The cheapest bracelet we found was in National Jewelers, and the price was still forty-seven dollars.  Just as I was about to give up, Olivia remembered that there was a Montgomery Wards just across the street from the mall.   I pinned all my hopes on that store, and we headed over there.

We headed straight to the jewelry department.  I saw a young man shifting jewelry pieces around inside the jewelry counter, and there was an old woman standing next to him.  He was quite handsome – jet black hair, blue eyes, and a firm jaw – but his immaculate suit and matching tie intimidated me.  I guessed that he was some sort of manager and that he’d try to get rid of a kid that probably had no money.  On the other hand, the woman was wearing a slightly wrinkled flowered dress, and her glasses were hanging around her neck so she wouldn’t misplace them.  From these shortcomings, I promptly inferred that she was not perfect and that helped to put me at ease.  Her frosty white hair and plump face gave her a pleasant look, and she smiled brightly as I walked up to her.

“I’m looking for ID bracelets,” I told her.

“What?  Oh, I’m sorry.  I don’t work here.  This nice young man was just showing me some watches.”  Great.  The old bat was passing me off to the shark.

“I’ll be right with you,” he said.  “The bracelets are in that case to your right.”

Olivia and I stepped in front of the case and started browsing.  In a few moments, the man came over.  He opened the case and pulled out a tray of ID bracelets.  Some were silver; some were gold.  All of them looked expensive.

“I might as well tell you that we’ve only got twelve dollars,” Olivia said to him.

He quickly returned the tray to the case.  Directing us down an aisle opposite the counter, he said. “You might find something down there.  There are some leather bracelets with names and designs on them.  They are more in your price range.”

I headed down the aisle to have a look.  The bracelets were not exactly what I wanted, and none of them had Max’s name.

Olivia was still up by the counter.  She turned towards me and said, “Well, do you like them?”  I shook my head.  “Come here and take a look,” she said.

I joined her at the counter and she was pointing at some key rings.  “What about one of those?  You could get Max’s name engraved on one.  Or your name.”

“I don’t need a key ring,” I said tediously.

“You are so dense sometimes,” she responded.  “I meant give him a key ring with your name on it.  Look, there’s a heart-shaped one…”

“I really don’t think Max would carry a heart-shaped key ring.”

“He probably won’t carry any key ring that you give him, but so what?”

I was starting to wonder why I had friends at all.  Every one of them made cracks about my chances with Max.

I asked the man behind the counter to let me see the heart-shaped key ring.  It was gold-plated, but it wasn’t too bad.  “Can you engrave it?” I asked.

“We have someone who can.  Let me locate him.”

An hour later, Olivia and I were on the bus and headed home.  The key ring looked very nice in its little gift box.  Max’s name was on the front and mine was on the other side.  He would love it, I was certain.  If he didn’t, I would die.

At home, I began doubting myself.  I kept envisioning the moment that I would give Max his gift.  One scenario had him showing the key ring to all his friends.  Most of the time, however, I pictured him throwing the thing at me.  By the next morning, I was questioning whether I should give it to him at all.

I finally decided that I would let Alice deliver the gift to him.  Then, if he didn’t want it, he couldn’t throw it at me at least.  He would either have to keep it, or he could throw it in the trash.  Hopefully, he wouldn’t throw it at Alice.  No matter what he did, it wouldn’t embarrass me.  It was a great plan.

Monday morning, I told Alice.  She was very agreeable and even willing to do it that day.  I told her that Friday would be the day – then I wouldn’t see him again until after Christmas.  In the meantime, I planned to compose a letter to go along with the gift – sort of explain why I was giving it to him.  I started on it right after homeroom.

Four days and ten pages later, I tried to stuff the letter and the key ring into a business-sized envelope.  I finally succeeded with the help of some Scotch tape.  Luckily, I had written Max’s name on the outside before I filled the envelope.  I didn’t want my envelope getting mixed up with someone else’s.

As the lunch bell rang, I presented the envelope to Alice.  We walked out to the lunchroom together, and then we parted.  I joined Olivia and Aurelia at our favorite bench, and we pretended that it was a normal day.

In a few minutes, Max appeared from the side of the cafeteria.  He looked great in my favorite pair of tight black pants – the ones that emphasized his round perfect little butt – and shiny black platform shoes.  His black hair fanned out on the back of his blue jean jacket and set my heart thumping.  He walked past – totally ignoring me – and went into the cafeteria.  Alice followed him inside.

Alice reappeared in three minutes, although it seemed more like three hours.  She motioned for me to come over, and I rushed to where she was standing.

“D…d…did you do it?”  I couldn’t believe how nervous I was.

“I am Alice Lawson...Of course I gave it to him.  What’d you expect?”  Alice was the epitome of smug.

“Well...What did he say?”  Would I have to drag every detail out of her?

“Say?  Um – well, he said, ‘Thank you.’”

“Is that all?  What did you say?”  Every inch of my body was tingling.  My nerves were shattering.

“Before he said, ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘This is from Katrina.’  He took it.  He didn’t even say, ‘Katrina Who?’  He just said, ‘Thank you.’”

“Then what?”

“He started opening it, and I left.”

“That’s all?  You didn’t wait to see if he liked it?”

“Look, Kat – cool it!  You said give it to him.  You didn’t say anything about watching his every move.  If you want to know if he liked it, you’re gonna have to ask him yourself.”  Alice walked away.

I turned to go back over to Olivia and Aurelia, and Max was coming out of the lunchroom.  I didn’t see the key ring, but the letter was in his hand.  He gave me an amused look, and then he sat on a wooden bench.  He held the letter in front of him and began reading it.  I swallowed my heart as I walked past him to my friends.  When lunch was over, Max was still sitting there reading the letter.  He didn’t look up or anything as Olivia, Aurelia, and I walked past.  Perhaps I had made an impression – maybe he would speak to me on the bus that afternoon.

I nervously anticipated the bus ride home.  Part of me wanted him to talk to me; the other part of me wanted to vanish off the face of the earth.  I had confessed all my love for Max in that letter, and I had no way of knowing if that impressed or repelled him.

My stomach did a whole gymnastics routine as I trudged towards the bus.  I felt like a prisoner walking his last mile.  I stopped in front of the bus door and took a deep breath.  One step up, two steps up, three steps up.  I saw that the bus was empty; I had my choice of seats.  I sat down in the front seat, and then decided the middle of the bus might afford me more protection.  If Max wanted to talk, it was more obscure.  If Max wanted to yell, I could slip down unnoticed in my seat.  If he wasn’t really hunting me, I’d blend in with everyone else.  I quickly moved to the safe harbor of the midpoint region.

The bus began filling up immediately, and time seemed to speed past at an alarming rate.  Soon, Mrs. Decker was closing the bus doors and driving away from school.  Max was not on board.  I didn’t know whether to feel relief or pain.  I just knew that Christmas vacation was starting, and I wouldn’t see Max again for two weeks.  The teenage years are full of angst.

Chapter 7

Brad was snoring loudly, so I slipped on my shoes and sneaked out his front door.  He didn’t mean to be rude; the beer did him in.  We might finish our talk sometime, but it wasn’t important.  Brad and I would always be friends, and we didn’t need Max to ensure that.

As I drove home from Brad’s I thought about my life – past and present.  I had been talking about Max a good bit in the past few days, and it felt good to remember the crazy things I did in school.  Friends like Olivia and Aurelia shared many of my experiences, but other things were mine alone.

Some things I could never tell anyone.  Most of my friends thought I was insane to carry a torch for twenty-four years, and maybe they were right – but I don’t think so.  Those people were realists – people who accept that life is not romantic and that dreams usually don’t come true.  These friends couldn’t understand my kind – the hopeless romantic that believes in destiny and true love, adventure and dreams-come-true.  With these friends, I could never convince them that I hadn’t wasted my life.

I pulled into the parking lot next to my apartment building.  The moon was full and bright as I climbed out of my champagne-colored Accord.  I leaned against the car and stared up into the sky hoping to spot a star.  Even at thirty-seven, I still wished on stars.  The moon was a little too bright – or the stars were hiding – so I gave up my search and wandered back to my apartment.

My old yearbook was still lying on the coffee table.  I flipped it open to the back cover and then turned one page back.  The page was empty except for one line and a signature.  Max Savage.  I thought about the days that I had spent saving that page just for him.  Olivia never believed that I would ask him to sign it.  Aurelia wanted to believe, but, in the end, she doubted me, too.  Still, the signature was there – the proof that I overcame my fears and finally approached Max on my own.

I turned to Max’s photo and stared at it for a long time.  Then I lay back on my overstuffed couch and flipped through the book – always returning to Max’s photo – just like in high school.  I pulled the book up to my chest and folded my arms over it.  The memories were flooding my mind, and I gladly opened the dam...

Chapter 8

The year was almost over.  I was going to be a sophomore soon, and Max would be a senior.  It had been a long year, but I hated for it to end.

After Christmas vacation, Max was riding the bus again.  He never mentioned the key ring or the letter.  It was almost a relief.  I decided that I had moved way too fast.

In the ensuing months, I discovered that Max wasn’t the only love of my life.  I became acquainted with the music of Elton John, and I fell hopelessly in love with him.  It wasn’t the same love I felt for Max, but it was love just the same.  My room soon became a shrine to Elton: posters on the wall, albums on the shelves, and scrapbooks devoted entirely to him.  I also became a walking Elton John encyclopedia, and my wardrobe also reflected my adoration.  Elton and Max would both prove to be a lasting part of my life.

During this time, most of my encounters with Max were minor.  One of the more prominent stories involved the school bus and Tracy.  It was one of those rare occasions when Max sat down beside me on the bus.  Tracy decided to announce this to the whole bus.  Max told her to sit down; Travis yelled for her to shut up.  She did neither.  Max finally stood up and told her that he didn’t hit girls, but she might be the exception.  Travis rushed over and said he wouldn’t mind hitting her one bit.  I held back a giggle as Travis offered to hit Tracy for Max.  Max just clenched his fists and returned to his seat next to me.  Tracy stuck her tongue out at Travis, and the bus ride continued.  At our stop, Max stepped back and let me go ahead, but when Tracy tried to go, he pushed past her.  She then tried to tease me as we walked home, but Travis intervened.  It was clear that Travis liked me, but he wasn’t pushing the issue.  Max’s thoughts were anything but clear.

The day we got our yearbooks, I immediately reserved a page for Max to sign.  I told Olivia and Aurelia that I was going to get his signature right away, before anyone could mess up that page.  Soon, my book started filling up with signatures, but Max’s page remained blank.  Every time I thought I would ask him, I would either chicken out or something would get in the way.  Mostly, I chickened out.

A week – and then two – passed without me approaching Max.  Olivia gave up on me, and Aurelia stopped talking about it.  Finally, I broke down and let Olivia ask him to sign it.  Imagine my reaction when he refused.  He told her that I would have to ask him.

Then one day while he was standing alone at lunch, I mustered up all of my courage and asked him to sign on that special page.  He was very polite to me as he took the book out of my hand.  It took only a moment for him to sign it, and then he closed it and handed it back.  I waited until he couldn’t see me before I opened it up and read the inscription.

“To a very nice girl.  Hope you’ve had a good year.  Max Savage.’77.”

He called me a nice girl!  Nothing could ever take that moment away.  He liked me – I just knew it.  Now I just had to pursue him a little harder.

Summer.  Magnificent summer.  And at fourteen, I ruled the world – cruising around on my ten speed bike hoping to get a glimpse of Max now and again.

Then, suddenly, everything in my life changed.  My wonderful daddy’s lungs collapsed. Daddy had lived with emphysema for over fifteen years, but I had never seen him hospitalized before. Thirty-seven years of smoking was finally taking its toll.  The doctors were able to save my father, but they sadly told my mother that he had only six months to live.

My brother Rick – on emergency leave from the Navy – flew in from Memphis with his wife Rebecca and their three year old daughter Bridgett.  My mother moved into my bedroom, and our two bedroom house was getting very cramped.  To complicate things, Mom and Rebecca didn’t get along at all, Bridgett was a spoiled rotten brat, and Rick took every opportunity to get away from home.  So did I.

After four weeks, Daddy was well enough to go home, but he would have to give up his job.  For a man of forty-seven, this was a grim prospect.  Nevertheless, Daddy took the news like a trooper, and he was soon cutting up and acting like his old self.  Mom, however, was becoming despondent and worried.  She knew that her four dollar an hour job couldn’t sustain a family of three.

To further dampen Mom’s spirits, Rick and Rebecca offered their own brand of help.  Rick was due for sea duty in a little over a month, and Rebecca wanted to stay with us to help with Daddy.  She would be receiving an allotment check each month that she would use to help with our budget.  The kicker was that the offer wasn’t really an offer.  Rick and Rebecca had already given up their apartment in Memphis, and Rebecca had nowhere to go – except our house.  Out of concern for little Bridgett, Mom agreed to the situation.

Rick stayed for three more days.  Just before he left, he and Rebecca had another announcement.  Rebecca was six weeks pregnant.  As we drove Rick to the airport, everyone was silent.  Mom loved Rick too much to be angry with him, but she was livid with Rebecca.  All of us were aware of this, and we thought it was best to stay quiet.  Mom was crying as Rick waved goodbye.  I couldn’t help wondering if she was sad because he was leaving or because he was leaving Rebecca.

By this time, we were well into July.  In only four weeks, I’d be back in school.  My summer was evaporating.  I hadn’t seen Max once.

One afternoon, I was playing tennis with the garage door and listening to the radio when Bridgett wandered outside.  I wasn’t much on kids, but Bridgett was a cutie.  Her hair was long and chestnut brown, and she had big bright blue eyes.  Rebecca always dressed her in coveralls and tiny blue tennis shoes.  She looked like a living doll.

“Are you lissnen to Lten John?”

“Not right now.  The radio plays all kinds of songs by lots of people.”

“Lten John’s my favrit.”  I taught her that, of course.  Then she burst into song, “Don’ go breakin’ my heart...Don’ go breakin’ my...I won’ go breakin’ yer heart...”

“You like that song, don’t you?”  I was very proud of my niece.

“Play it for Bridgett!  Play ‘Don’ Go Breakin’ My Heart.’  Please Aunt Kat.”

“Okay.  Let’s go inside.”

I took hold of Bridgett’s tiny hand and led her into the house.  Rebecca was sitting on the couch with a glass of Pepsi in one hand and a sandwich in the other.  She was watching “All My Children” on TV.  Her stringy long blond hair was half covering her face, but I could still see the blue eye shadow smeared over her eyes.  The clumped mascara on her eyelashes looked like tarantula legs.  She had a small pink mouth molded perfectly into a permanent pout, and her round nose had a dimple on the end of it.  Thankfully, Bridgett got her looks from her father.

My mother had come up with a not so wonderful sleeping situation.  Rebecca and Bridgett shared a twin bed in one room, while my room now had a double bed for Mom and Dad and a twin bed for me.

Daddy spent most of his time in my room, so Bridgett and I would have to play our records in her and Rebecca’s room.  To pick up my record player and records without disturbing Daddy, I tiptoed into my room.  Daddy was asleep on the bed.  I had sent Bridgett to her room, but she had followed me instead.  She walked over to my bookcase and took down a book and then hurried on to her room.  I wasn’t sure what book she had, but it looked like my school yearbook.  I grabbed my record player and rushed out behind her.

Bridgett was sitting on the edge of her bed; my yearbook was open in her lap.

“Who is that?” she asked.  I looked at the page.  You guessed it; it was Max.  A permanent bend in the binder caused the book to inevitably open to his page.

“He’s a boy I know.”

“Do you likes ‘im?”

“I guess.  Yeah.”

“Me likes ‘im, too.  What’s ‘im’s name?”

“Max.”

“Mmmmmax.  Max cute.  ‘im my boyfriend.  Is ‘im Aunt Kat’s boyfriend?”

“I’d like him to be, but he isn’t.”

“I thinked Aunt Kat loves Lten John.  Her loves Max, too?”

At this point, I realized I was talking to a three-year old.  “Hey, Birdie,” Birdie was my nickname for Bridgett, “let’s go ride my bike.”

“Oh, boy!  Ride bike!  Yay!”

Fortunately, I had kept my old green banana seat bike – my very first bike.  It was too small for me, but I could easily push it around with my feet while Birdie sat in front of me on the seat.  We circled the yard a few times, and Birdie was having a wonderful time.  I stopped to get a better grip on her and noticed that Travis Cartwright was riding his bike back and forth in front of us.  He smiled and I said, “Hey.”

“Is dat Max?” Birdie said.

“No.  Stop talking about Max.”

“I loves Max.  Where’s Max?”

Just then, Travis stopped right in front of us.  “Hey, little girl.  You want to ride my bike?”  I stared at him incredulously.

“Oh, boy!  Ride bike!  Yay!”  Before I could stop her, Birdie was off my bike and heading for Travis.

“Birdie, come back.  You can’t leave the yard.”  But she did.  She was up in his arms in a flash, and he rode off up the hill with her.

Birdie was yelling, “Wee – ee – ee, this is fun!”

Looking like a complete fool, I ran after them.  “Travis, you’re getting us in trouble here.  Bridgett’s mom doesn’t want her out of the yard.  Please come back.”

Maybe he didn’t hear me, or maybe he wanted to get me back for all the times I had ignored his advances – but for whatever reason, he kept going with Birdie right in front of him.  I ran behind them as fast as I could, which, of course, wasn’t very fast at all.

They were almost in front of Max’s house when I had an idea.

“Birdie, you’re in front of Max’s house.  Remember Max?”

Birdie squealed.  “Max!  Oh, boy!  Stop, Mister.  Max is my boyfriend.”

Birdie was struggling so much that Travis had to stop.  He pulled over in Mason’s yard, but he still held on tightly to Birdie.

“Let go!  Let go!  Max, save Birdie!”  Birdie was realizing that she was with someone strange.  She was right.

I was still three houses away when I heard someone say, “I think you better let her go, Cartwright.”

It was Max!  He must have been outside or something when Birdie called out.

“Max's my boyfriend.  Save Birdie, Max.  Let Birdie go to Max.”

Travis finally relinquished hold of Birdie when Max walked up to the bike.  “Look, Max, I couldn’t let her go.  She was gonna run out into the street.  Here, take her.  I didn’t know she was yours.  I was just teasing Kat.”

Max took Birdie in his arms, and she fit there – comfy and snugly.  It was the only time in my life that I was envious of a three-year old.  “Did you even think, man?  She could fall off and get hurt.  She’s just a little girl.”

Travis put his feet on the pedals and burned rubber.  As he passed me, he said loudly, “I’m sorry, Kat.”  Then he disappeared over the hill.  I was alone with Max and Birdie.  Would he chew me out, too?

“Aunt Kat!  Look, look!  Max save Birdie.  Birdie love Max.”

“Does this belong to you?” he asked.  His tone was definitely sarcastic.

“Yes, that’s my niece,” I answered sheepishly.

“Hi, Max,” Birdie said.  “Me Birdie.”

“I sort of gathered that.”  Max was smiling warmly at Birdie.  “I think your aunt wants you back now.”

Birdie leaned out towards me and I took her into my arms.  She squeezed her arms around my neck tightly – almost strangling me.

“It’s time to go home, Birdie,” I said to her.  Then turning to Max, I said, “Thanks.  I’m sorry about this.”

“No reason to be.  Travis just needs to grow up.  Besides, Birdie needed to see her boyfriend.”  He winked at me and turned to go.  I just stood there – anchored to that spot.  Then he turned back around.  “I almost forgot to tell you bye, Birdie.  Be good for your Aunt Kat.  I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Max.  Love ya.”  Birdie was mellowing out; she was a tired little girl.

“I love you, too, Birdie.”

Max was walking away, so I couldn’t tell what he might be thinking as he told her that he loved her.  He was probably just being kind, but – then again – who knows?  At least I had something to think about for the rest of the summer, and it had nothing to do with the turmoil at home.

Could it be that I was making headway?

Chapter 9

I woke up to someone banging on my door.  I dropped my yearbook on the table and rushed to peek through the peephole.  It was Olivia.  She was moving her head back and forth frantically, so I jerked the door open.

“Kat, you’ll never believe who I saw at registration.  Never in a million years.”  Olivia had shoved me out of the doorway and was making a beeline for my sofa.  She stopped when she saw the yearbook on the table.

I shut the door as she turned to face me with a raised eyebrow and a cynical sneer.  I rolled my eyes.  “Would you like some tea – or maybe a soda?  You know I don’t drink coffee.”

“Kat, you weren’t thinking about Max Savage again, were you?  I thought you were over him.  Way over him.  What happened?”

“Who did you see at registration?  This was out at FMC?”  Fort McRee College, our local university.

Olivia wanted to pursue her line of questioning – just like a lawyer.  “You do remember that he’s married?”

“And – may I remind you – you are under oath...” I said, laughing at her.

“Kat!  Come on.”

“We’ll talk about him later.  I want to know who got you worked up enough to come over to my apartment.  You haven’t been here in over two years.”

I was finally getting through to her.  Olivia let go of her “this-is-for-your-own-good” tone, and recaptured the light-hearted manner she had exhibited earlier.  “It was Peter McDermott!  He’s an instructor at FMC now.  Isn’t that wild?”

“Peter McDermott?  Who???”  I was teasing.  I knew very well who he was.

“Don’t you remember?  Tenth grade – Bons Copains?  Peter McDermott was one of the vice-presidents.”

“Master-at-arms.”

“Right, master-at-arms...Wait a minute!  You knew who I was talking about all the time, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.  He was all you talked about for – how long?  Oh, yeah – he’s still all you talk about.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.  I think you’re confusing me with this clown named Katrina and her fantasies about Max.  Sure, I liked Peter, but I didn’t obsess over him.”  Olivia was good at pointing fingers.  She just didn’t want them pointing in her direction.

“And I suppose driving past Pete’s house ten or twelve times a day qualifies as normal non-psychotic behavior?”

“We only did that a few times...  Well, not more than two or three times a week.”  Olivia was blushing.  I guess we were both a little weird.

“Hey, I’ve got no problem with it.  I just don’t want you calling me strange either.  Let’s just say that if we did those things now, we’d be arrested for stalking.”  I burst out laughing and Olivia joined me.

“We’re two of a kind, I guess,” she said between giggles.

“Two sick puppies,” I added.

“Anyway, Pete never knew I liked him back then.  It wasn’t like you and Max.”  Olivia was right.  Pete never had a chance to get sick of her.  My car could have passed his house 1,000 times a week, and he wouldn’t have had a clue.  Olivia knew how to keep a low profile.

“So what happened today when he saw you?”  We’d almost lost sight of what her visit was about.

“He recognized me.  Well, sort of.  He remembered seeing me somewhere.  I knew him right away – he hasn’t changed a bit...”

“You mean he’s still two-hundred-twenty pounds of lean mass and muscle?  Or do you mean his reddish hair is still in a buzz cut?”

“I guess he’s put on a pound or two.  Who hasn’t?  He still looks good, though.”  A pound or two?  I picked up more than a pound or two by just sniffing a plate of brownies.

“That is, if you think he ever looked good.  I didn’t.”  He was too bulky – too massive – for my taste.

“Uh, yeah.  So, he still has the buzz cut, and his hair is still strawberry blond.  His face isn’t quite so babyish anymore, but he’s still cute...”

Cute was not a word I would have ever used to describe Peter McDermott, but I suppose many girls crumpled over his baby face.  I thought his eyes were too small and beady for his chubby face, and I could never warm up to his facial hair – a thin (less than an inch wide) beard that traveled from sideburn to sideburn down around the bottom of his chin.  I also never cared for his football player physique or his too short hair.  He just wasn’t my type.

“...So I told him that I went to WMHS at the same time he did.  He asked me to have a soda with him in the cafeteria, and we reminisced about old times.  We even talked about Bons Copains.  I’m sure he never remembered me, but we still had a really good time.”

“So, when are you going to see him again?”

“Um…not sure about that.  While we were talking, his wife came up.”

“Wife?  Oh, crap!  What did she do?”

“Well nothing, of course.  We were just talking.  Besides, she recognized me at once.  His wife is Cherry Trinity.”

“Oh…Sorry Olivia.  I was hoping you and Pete made a love connection.”

“You are so stupid, Kat.  Only you would think that Pete would see me after twenty years and then fall madly in love with me.  You are such a hopeless romantic.”  She rolled her eyes around indicating that she thought I was nuts.  “But something unusual did happen.  After Cherry and Pete walked away, this guy came from out of nowhere and knocked my ass on the floor…”

“What?  Why did he do that?  Were you hurt?”  She looked fine, but I thought I should be concerned.

“I wasn’t hurt, just dazed for a second or two.  He offered me his hand and helped me up.  He was rushing to try and register for some Internet class.  He’s trying to build a website or something.  He apologized and we started talking.  We walked to the registrar together and…I really like him, Kat.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  “Say what?”

Olivia didn’t even notice my shocked expression.  “His name is Lee.  He’s forty years old, and…wait for it…he’s a doctor.”

“A doctor?  Why is he registering for an HTML class then?’

“HTM-what?  Whatever – you and your computer brain.  He wants to make a website for his niece.  She’s trying to start some kind of sewing business.  Anyway, he’s not the kind of doctor you’re thinking about.  He’s a veterinarian.  But it still counts.  He’s Dr. Lee Garrett.  He is so cute.  I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“I guess that means you are going to see him again?  I hope you got his phone number…”

“Going to see him again?  Why do you think I’m just getting over here?  We were together all night.”

“Olivia, you didn’t?  You didn’t spend the night with him?”

“I did, but we were only talking.  It was wonderful.  Kat, I think he really likes me.”

I had not seen Olivia this happy and excited since high school.  Not only was she about to live out her dream of becoming a lawyer, but she might also be falling in love.  I couldn’t have been happier for her – but I was also jealous.  She had been able to get over her high school crush and meet a wonderful guy all in the same day.  I had lost the man of my dreams long ago, but I still refused to let go of my fantasies.

We spent the next hour talking about Lee.  According to Olivia, Lee had the waviest brown hair, the bluest blue eyes, and the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.  He was a little overweight, but not too much.  He had gone to school and played football for Auburn University while getting his Bachelor’s Degree, and he’d graduated from their School of Veterinary Medicine.  Lee now had a flourishing Veterinary Clinic in Foster’s Bank.  He had never been married, and he’d barely taken time to think about relationships.  Olivia couldn’t imagine why he’d taken such an interest in her, but she was tickled pink.

“You two have some things in common.  You’ve never had time for a relationship either.”  I’d often chided Olivia about her interest – or lack of – in men.  Her job always came first.  Then, of course, she was constantly participating in the local theater or volunteering to work with underprivileged kids and economically depressed families.  It was time for her to live for herself a little.

“We have a lot in common.  He likes the theater, and he’s a big brother to a mentally handicapped boy.  On holidays, he helps at the soup kitchen.”

“Oh, God!  It’s meant to be.  Go for it, Olivia.  You are two peas in a pod.  Who’d have ever guessed?”   I tried to sound enthusiastic but I was becoming bored with Lee.  I admired Olivia – and Lee, for that matter – for being able to give their time so freely.  It was something I could never do.  But Lee was sounding too much like a saint, and I was losing interest fast.  Even with all her generosity, Olivia wasn’t a saint.  She was bubbly, silly, and unpredictable.  She gossiped and cussed and got catty right along with me.  She could be vindictive and bitter and spiteful, not to mention bossy, authoritarian, and arrogant.  She was human – with just a hint of martyr thrown in for good measure.  Lee sounded so perfect that it made me want to throw up.  I finally decided that Olivia was just trying to convince me that Lee was a good catch.  No one outside of Jesus was that perfect.

Just as I was about to heave, Olivia said, “Enough about me.  Let’s get back to Max...”

“Let’s don’t.  Let’s talk about old times.  Remember when...”  Diversion time.  Knock Olivia off track.

“No, no.  I have something to say...”  I guess she wasn’t buying my diversion.  “I was just thinking about how we became mixed up in Bons Copains to begin with.  Do you remember?”

I guess I was better at diversion tactics than I thought.  “Remember?  If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even know about Bons Copains.  You would have never even met Pete McDermott.”

“You’re right.  Why don’t you tell me how you first learned about the club?  I don’t really remember how you came to join.”

I took a deep breath and thought back to the beginning.  The beginning of Bons Copains, that is.

Chapter 10

School was back in session.  I felt like my summer had vanished before it began.  Too soon it was time for a new year with new teachers and new classmates.  I was a sophomore.

The bus stop wasn’t the same.  Max was driving his car – an old brown Rambler – to school, so I soon tired of catching the bus with Erma, Tracy, Terrance, and Mason.  Amos had moved to a new house in another neighborhood and Travis had vanished to somewhere.  I suppose Tracy could have explained his absence since she always knew the local gossip, but I didn’t want to talk to her.

Before long, I was walking to Aurelia and Dominique’s stop to catch the bus.  This involved a walk of about half a mile – and it was still dark at six a.m.  Still, I preferred the walk to the company at the Heritage Street stop.  Besides, Aurelia and I were very good friends by this time, and we were assured of sitting together if I walked to her stop.

I still saw Max every morning.  He’d stand near the spot that Aurelia, Olivia, and I always occupied after getting off the bus.  He looked even better than before – he was now sporting a thick black mustache, and it was very becoming.  Aurelia and Olivia even said he looked better, although they still thought he was ugly.

Homeroom was similar to the year before.  Most of the same people were still there.  Our class was in one of the ROTC rooms and Captain Kennedy was our teacher.  The captain carried a reputation as a diehard and a strict taskmaster among the ROTC geeks, and he was no pushover as a homeroom teacher.  Every morning, he’d stand up and command complete silence while he ran his fingers through his sparse white hair.  Then he’d bark out each of our names – expecting to hear a rousing “Present!” – and stare at us with his intrusive little pellet eyes.  Never once did I see him smile or hear him speak kindly to anyone.  He just proudly wore his Navy uniform on his short pudgy frame and dared one of us to disobey.  A trip to the principal was a nonconformist’s reward.

First period would be World History – at least for the first semester.  Mr. Blake – as tall and sinister looking as Boris Karloff – would be my teacher.  I was the only sophomore in this class, and, as such, I was very much alone.  Mr. Blake’s long winded lectures soon bored me, and I used his class to catch up on my note writing – notes to my friends.  Even as I sat on the front row in the center of the class, I easily bluffed Mr. Blake.  He rarely called on anyone in class, so I never had to be paying attention.  His tests were so easy – the questions came straight out of the book.  I breezed through his class making A’s and B’s the whole semester.  During the second half of tenth grade, I would take Driver’s Ed, and I would have to pay attention.  But in the meantime, I would write my notes and fictional stories while Mr. Blake droned on.

Second period was Chemistry and Mr. Raymond was the teacher.  I thought he was sort of cute – shoulder length sandy brown hair, big blue eyes, and a round handsome face.  He wore all the cool 70’s styles such as bellbottoms, leisure suits, and silk shirts.  Most important of all, I became one of his favorite students.

In the beginning, I was very much alone in Mr. Raymond’s class.  The only two people I recognized were Jason Fetters – my seventh grade crush – and Felicia Houston.  Mr. Raymond used a seating chart, so at first I didn’t have to worry about Felicia – she was on the other side of the classroom.  At some time during the first week, Felicia asked if she could move.  Apparently, Felicia and Mr. Raymond attended the same church, and he told Felicia that she could sit wherever she liked.  She liked the seat right behind me, so there we were in the last two seats on the third row.  There was plenty of ill will between us – Felicia had stolen Laura away, and she feared I would steal Laura back.  Somewhere among all this animosity, Felicia and I had to tolerate each other enough to pass Chemistry.  Hopefully, we’d both come out of the tenth grade alive.

Third period was French 2.  Monsieur Guest was back, and so was Karen.  I found that Karen was much more annoying as a sophomore, and Monsieur Guest was much more nauseating in his absolute love of her.  I wished that I could go back to World History and be bored to death.

Along with lunch, fourth period also meant English and Mrs. Stokes.  A light skinned black woman with a thick Southern accent, Mrs. Stokes surprised me with her knowledge of the English language.  In my previous school years, English had been a bore and a bother, but Mrs. Stokes opened up in me a new desire to excel in grammar and – especially – in composition.  Her pretty freckled face, large brown eyes, and friendly, open smile made me feel comfort in an otherwise lonely class.

Second lunch was anything but lonely.  Olivia, Aurelia, Dominique, and Diane Griffin started out at our favorite bench.  As time passed, Barbara and Becky Daniels, identical twins that were in my English class, joined our lunch group.  Eventually, Jake Hathaway began intruding on our lunch, but that would only last for a few weeks.

Barbara and Becky looked almost exactly alike, and we sometimes called them “Barky” and “Becra” to mock their inability to individualize. Both girls wore their dark hair in boyish cuts, and they both had blue eyes.  Their father was from Indiana and was in the Navy.  Their mother was German, and they inherited her big bone structure and her fleshy build.  The only notable difference in the twins was that Barbara had pierced ears and Becky did not.

Fun was a synonym for both Barbara and Becky, but their personalities were somewhat different.  Becky was more studious and more serious, and she sought to fit into cliques and befriend some of the stuck-up snobs.  Barbara was goofy.  She wanted to be friends with everyone, but especially the outsiders and the misfits because then she could laugh and joke about herself without fear of being teased or taunted.  Both girls were personable and outgoing, and everyone liked them.  It was an honor when they wanted to hang out with me.

Jake Hathaway was Olivia’s first boyfriend in high school.  I can’t recall how she met him – and she refuses to talk about him – but one day, he was just there.  Curly brown hair on top of an average-looking guy; Jake was neither cute nor ugly.  He had ordinary features with little distinction – that is until he opened his mouth.  The words “Southern” and “country” aptly fit, but years later I realized that “redneck” was a much better description.  Jake was loud and boisterous, and he also loved to touch whoever was near.  I found myself in that situation way too many times.  On several occasions, Jake walked me back to English with his arm around my shoulders or my waist.  It was impossible to shake him.  Olivia didn’t seem to mind, although later I realized that she might not have known about it.  Blessed was the day when Olivia called it quits with Jake.  He still came around sometimes, but it was easier to get rid of him when I didn’t have to consider Olivia’s feelings.

Max was around during lunch on most days, and I noticed him watching me sometimes.  Or maybe he was just watching my little group have a good time.  He was also developing a lunch group of his own.  Mason was one member, but the other guys were strangers to me.  Most of the time, they spent their lunch propping up the auditorium with their backs and legs.  This put them right in front of our bench and gave me a clear line of view.

After lunch, the second half of English seemed to drag.  Even Mrs. Stokes and her writing assignments couldn’t compare with the fun we had at lunch.  At least the day would soon be over.

PE was next.  Olivia wasn’t with me this year, but one of my old friends from middle school, Samantha Pickern, was.  Barbara and Becky were also in PE with me.  Mrs. Ray was my teacher.

Sam and I were best friends in sixth grade, and she, Laura, and I were best friends in eighth grade.  This was the first time I had seen her at WMHS, and it was a great reunion.  Sam was unlike my other friends; most were either a bit on the chunky side or extremely quiet and shy.  Sam fit into neither of these categories.  She was tall and thin – although big boned – and she was always outspoken.  Soft blond highlights dusted her long brown hair which was thick and wavy.  Emerald green eyes, a slightly pointed nose, and an ample mouth filled her long thin face.  Freckles dotted her cheeks and sprinkled down onto her shoulders and arms.  I had adored Sam the first moment I met her in sixth grade, and it was a pleasure to have her back in my life.  Before long, Sam and I had slipped back into our old roles.  She was my leader, and I was her follower.  Boss and lackey.  Master and slave.  She said, “Jump.”  I said, “How high?”

Mrs. Ray was a middle-aged black woman.  She was tall – at least six feet tall – and in excellent shape.  I would learn that she was also a compassionate and understanding person.  In contrast to all the other PE teachers I had ever known, Mrs. Ray seemed to realize that an overweight student might have problems in some activities.  She always credited all who tried, not just the ones who succeeded.  Ones who ran slowest were paired with ones who ran fastest, affording all teams a chance to win.  She was truly a woman ahead of her times.

Geometry.  What a way to end the day.  Algebra had been my favorite class; now geometry would be my least favorite.  Proofs, angles, theorems...nothing could be more confusing.  To top it off, most of the people I knew in that class were also people I detested.  Please let the bell ring!

Mr. Parish sat at his desk and greeted each of us as we entered the room.  He was tall and thin and reminded me of Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame.  He liked to teach while sitting at his desk and he rarely wrote on the chalkboard.  Periodically, he would send someone else up to the board to write out a problem, and he would only choose students he really liked.  That left me out.  Sometimes I would just sit and wonder how he could teach a math class without writing on the board.  He wasn’t easy to look at either.  He had a pencil thin brown mustache, and he slicked his thinning reddish brown hair down flat on his head.  His face was long and his features seemed stretched to fit.  It was impossible to distinguish where his chest ended and his waist began – he was a veritable beanpole.  His arms were long and bony, and his fingers looked like long thin peapods.  His legs were so long that they bent awkwardly in his seat, making me wonder how he could bare to sit there for any length of time.  But sit he did.

Eventually I would meet and befriend several people in this class.  Vivian, a junior, liked me right away.  She was shy and quiet, but she liked to talk with me before class began.  I thought she was very pretty with her olive skin, vermillion lips, and mahogany eyes.  She wore large oversized glasses, and straight jet black hair framed her fragile face.  Toby was a freshman, and he was also a spoiled brat.  Being the only freshman allowed to take geometry, he felt that he was smarter than the rest of us.  He wore his long blond hair in a ponytail most of the time.  He was attractive enough – bright blue eyes, small round nose, and a sweet smile – but his curse was short tiny legs and a fat little body.  We became acquainted, but I could never get passed his triple-X sized ego.  Jack Wahl was a sophomore, and he hated geometry as much as I did.  He was born in Britain, but his accent was purely Southern.  His hair was white-blond and cut to just above his shoulders.  He wore aviator glasses over his pea-sized blue eyes and thick blond eyebrows.  He had a long straight nose and high, prominent cheekbones while his lips were full and mostly colorless.  His chin was square with a cleft, and he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.  Jack and I would become very close friends before the end of tenth grade.

One day in September, Sam asked me if I’d like to get involved in a service club.  I said that I would – I had already tried to get into one club that only chose elite and popular girls.

“Which club is it?” I asked.

“We don’t have a name, yet.  There are only a few of us involved so far.  We need some more members.  I was hoping you would be interested.”  It flattered me that Sam would ask.

“I’m interested.  Who else is involved?  Anyone I know?”

“Let’s see.  There’s Rita Daltery and Beverly Corley.  Do you know Lindsey Moore or Debbie Carson?  How about Kevin Cone or Max Savage?”

“Wait a minute.  Did you say Max Savage?”  Now she had my attention.

“Yeah.  Do you know him?”  Sam was one of the only people in the world who didn’t know that I loved Max.

“He lives down the street...”

“You like him, don’t you?  Come on.  I can see it all over your face.  Wait till I tell him!”

“You’re like thirteen months late on that one.  Donna beat you to it.”  Sam knew Donna from middle school.

“Donna, huh?  I always thought she was cool.  Way to go Donna!  I still wish it could have been me.”

“I’m sure you’ll still find a way to take advantage of your knowledge.”

“Probably.  Well, I guess there’s no more question then?  You’ll join the club?”

“Why not?”

The next meeting was on the following Wednesday.  Sam escorted me to Mrs. Kalakos’ room, the teacher who was sponsoring the club.  We were the first ones there, and we took seats in the front left corner of the room – opposite the door.  Sam went up to Mrs. Kalakos’ desk to tell her that I wanted to join the club.

“Great!  Welcome, Katrina.  We plan to make this the best club on campus.”  Mrs. Kalakos was peppy and friendly.  She was younger than most of the other teachers at WMHS.  A headband held her auburn hair back and exposed her bright, sunny face.  She had a habit of holding her eyes wide open, and her long eyelashes gave them the appearance of tiny sunflowers.

“Call me ‘Kat,’ please,” I said.

Just then, the door opened and several people rushed in.  One of them was Max.  I expected to see shock on his face.  Instead, he just smiled at me and sat down in the seat next to Sam’s.  Everyone finally arrived, and there were sixteen of us.  The fair-sized turn out pleased Mrs. Kalakos.

“First of all, my new members need to fill out a standard form so we will know who you are.”  Mrs. Kalakos handed me and six others a sheet to fill out.  “As you’ll notice,” she continued, “there is no name listed under ‘Name of Club.’  Our first order of business should be to name the club and elect officials.”

Hands went up, and several names emerged: Friends Club, Totally Cool Club, The Fun People’s Club, and The Party-Hearty Club.  All losers.

Sam brought up an interesting point, “Most of the popular clubs have French names.  Mes Amies...Mais Oui...Of course, I don’t know any French…”

Fortunately, I did know a little French.  “How about Bons Copains?  It means good friends.”

I was quite amazed when everyone liked it.  And so Bons Copains was created.  The club became official when Mrs. Kalakos turned in our information forms and submitted our club name and our elected officials. Matt Bruin would be President.  Beverly Corley was Vice-President, Debbie Carson was Secretary, Kevin Cone was Treasurer, and Pete McDermott was Master-at-Arms.  Our stated purpose was to work towards the betterment of William McRee High School.  Our true purpose was to get together and have a good time.

Bons Copains met on Thursdays after that.  We started meeting in Mrs. Kalakos’ room, but after-school meetings weren’t working out for everyone.  Matt and Pete’s football practice was the greatest problem.  We finally voted to meet on the first and third Thursday of the month at a member’s house.  The first night, we would meet at Debbie Carson’s.  Sam was the only person in Bons Copains that I knew very well, and I was nervous about going to a stranger’s house.  I worried that Sam might not be there when I arrived, and then what would I do?

Debbie lived in Braxton Hills, and my mom was taking me to her house.  After circling around several times, I saw a girl walking in the street that looked familiar.  We pulled up to her and I asked her if she knew where Debbie Carson lived.  She told me she was on her way to Debbie’s, and she asked me to join her.  She was Lindsey Moore, and she lived just a few houses away from Debbie Carson.  I asked if they were good friends.  She told me that she didn’t really know Debbie at all because she had only recently moved to Braxton Hills.

Debbie Carson opened the door.  Lindsay and I were the first ones to arrive.  I felt absolutely out of place my nerves were on edge.  I realized right away that neither Debbie nor Lindsey was overly excited to hang around me, so I stood by the front door looking for Sam.  She arrived just as I was thinking of leaving the house for the empty front yard.

“You want to sit by Max?” she asked me.

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Of course you can.”  She took my arm and dragged me behind Max.  There was one empty spot right beside him, and she pushed me into it.  I stumbled and almost ended up in his lap, but he chose to ignore my graceful entrance.  I sat down without touching him.  He looked at me and said, “Hi, Kat.”

I smiled and forced out a soft, “Hi.”

We received our club jerseys at that meeting, and we were to wear them every Thursday.  The jerseys were navy blue with gold lettering.  Mine was number five, and it said “Kat” on the back.  Max’s carried number twelve and the nickname “Beach Bum.”   Sam’s number was twenty-one, and it said “Bewitched,” a reference to the TV show.

After taking care of business, we had refreshments.  Sam teased me about Max, but she did it quietly.  I met a few of the members that I didn’t know, and I began to feel more comfortable.  The next meeting would be at Rita’s house on the first Thursday of November.  We were going to discuss our Christmas party.

Felicia and I were talking.  Laura had let Felicia read a story I had written, and Felicia wanted to see more.  First, I had to know Felicia, so we began talking before Chemistry.  Felicia was originally from Georgia, and she had a charming Southern drawl.  She claimed to have descended from a wealthy Southern plantation owner, and she normally looked down her nose at lesser individuals such as me.  But my writing fascinated her.  I wasn’t exactly good enough to be her friend, but she would sacrifice breeding for talent.

Soon, she was candidly telling me intimate things about her life.  I soon knew that she was in love with an older boy named Joe that lived in her neighborhood.  She had been having sex with him for over six months.  He was almost twenty years old, so I found the whole thing shocking.  At the time, I was very innocent about sex and other adult situations.

Felicia also told me that she was the youngest of four children.  She had a brother named Bernie, and two sisters, Denise and Martha.  All three of her siblings were attending college at The University of Georgia, and Felicia planned to enroll there after high school.  She just took it for granted that she’d be accepted since her great-great-great-great granddaddy had been so rich and important to Georgia.

Eventually, I became satisfied that Felicia was sincere about reading and enjoying my writing.  The first story I wrote for her was a comedy-western.  The main characters were Fair Felicia, Jovial Joe, Miss Kitty Kat, Magnificent Max, and Bad Bart (the bad guy, of course).  Magnificent Max had to save Miss Kitty Kat from the handsome yet ruthless Bad Bart while Fair Felicia had to win Jovial Joe away from her nemesis, Beguiling Belinda (Bart’s wife).  A final gunfight left Kat in Max’s arms and Felicia deciding that Joe wasn’t worth the bother.  Felicia loved the story.

More stories would follow.  Felicia became a big fan, and she showered me with praises.  What I didn’t know was that she was sharing my stories with everyone she knew.  Pretty soon, I had requests from people I’d never seen before.  I was becoming a sought after author.  After recovering from the initial shock, I started enjoying every minute.

The fair came to town, and Jack Wahl asked me to go with him on Friday night.  We ended up riding with my mom, and Donna came with us as well.  I have to admit that I was a little bit taken with Jack, but Max still held the key to my heart.  Jack seemed interested in me, too.  At the fair, he held hands with me, and we rode all the rides together.  Of course, Donna was always tagging along, but that was okay.

Back in my mom’s van, Jack, Donna, and I piled into the back exhausted.  Jack sat in between Donna and me – with his arms around both of us.  We drove to Donna’s house first to let her off.  I told her goodbye then watched in amazement as Jack kissed her goodnight.  I never knew if he wanted to kiss me.  I was so mad that I wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the ride to his house.  He seemed genuinely confused with my silence, but my pride was hurt too much to care what he was thinking.  At his house, I curtly said goodbye and slammed the van door in his face.  I cried myself to sleep, but, by the next morning, I was over my heartbreak.  I knew I didn’t really love Jack.  I just desperately wanted a boy’s – any boy’s – attention.  It still stung when I thought about Jack kissing Donna, but I would soon get over it.

The following Monday, I told Aurelia and Olivia all about my date with Jack – leaving out the part about Donna.  Aurelia was strangely quiet, and then she refused to talk to me the rest of the day.  The next morning, Olivia filled me in: Aurelia had a crush on Jack.  I felt miserable.  I had made our date sound like a very romantic interlude – when it was anything but – and I had hurt Aurelia in the process.  To compound things, I now knew that Jack was only my friend, and I wanted things to stay that way.  I searched Aurelia out and apologized.  I assured her that I meant nothing to Jack and that I hoped he would realize what a great person she was.  Thankfully, she forgave me.

November and our next Bons Copains meeting arrived.  Rita lived in Blue Brook – the same subdivision Laura lived in – and it was only a few miles away from my neighborhood.  The Christmas party was going to be at Mrs. Kalakos’ house.  Her husband Dmitri had come up with the idea to throw us a party.  We all left the meeting excited and anxiously awaiting the chosen Saturday in December.

Back at home, I took out my calendar to jot down the date of the party.  I noticed that my birthday was coming up on December 1, and my dad’s was the same day.  All at once, a flood of emotion engulfed me when I realized that December would mark the sixth month after my dad’s collapse.  My dad might die soon, and all I could think of was having a good time.

Things had been tough right after dad’s illness.  We were getting assistance from HRS, and we fell behind on some of our bills.  Eventually, Daddy was able to qualify for Disabled Veterans Benefits and Social Security, and we were doing much better by November.  I hadn’t given Daddy’s ailment much thought since things had turned around.  Now I found myself scared and feeling guilty.  Why hadn’t I spent more time with my dad?  Could I really be about to lose him?  He seemed to be doing better, and he was no longer smoking.  Could his life go out just like that – without any more warning?

That night at supper, Rebecca and my mother got into a big fight.  The stress proved too much for me, and I ran crying to my room.  Daddy soon appeared at the door.

“What’s wrong, Kat?”

“Nothing,” I said.  I couldn’t let him know how worried I was for him.

“Things haven’t been normal around here lately, have they?  Rebecca isn’t helping, and even Birdie is adding stress to everyone.  Luckily, I seem to be getting better.  The doctor says it’s a miracle, but that’s not right.  He just doesn’t know how stubborn I am.  I’m not leaving until my baby can take care of herself.  What do you think about that?”

Somehow, Daddy knew what was wrong.  He made everything better without me even explaining my feelings.  I guess he understood how much I loved him – I didn’t have to tell him.  He patted me on the leg and left me to my thoughts.

Later that night, Daddy was sitting in his oversized chair.  I went over and sat down in his lap, and he rubbed my back the same way he had when I was little.  It was the first time in years that I fell asleep in Daddy’s arms.

The next club meeting was going to be at Max’s house, and – even though it was two weeks away – I couldn’t wait.  I also couldn’t wait to tell Olivia and Aurelia.  When lunch time finally came, I went running out to find my friends.  Max was standing in his usual spot, but he had a new friend – a girl.  I almost choked on my saliva when I saw her putting her hands all over my Max.  This upset me so much that I couldn’t eat.

She was back on Monday.  They were laughing and flirting, and Olivia said that the hag was probably his girlfriend.  Really she was anything but a hag.  She had long silky black hair, a dainty perfect face, and a size five body.  She was everything that I wasn’t.  I hated her.

Tuesday I learned her name.  Olivia was good at snooping, and she soon discovered that her name was Trisha Byrd and she was a junior.  She wasn’t Max’s girlfriend, but she wanted to be.  Get in line, witch!

By Wednesday, I decided that I had to do something.  She was stealing Max right in front of my eyes.  And Max loved every minute of it.  He would deliberately wait until I was looking and then he would tickle her or pick her up.  I had a feeling that he’d told her about me, too.  She was constantly giving me evil and condescending looks.  I couldn’t take much more.  I had to take drastic action.  It was time to write a letter.

I didn’t finish the letter until Friday night, and I brought it to school on Monday.  I let Olivia and Aurelia read it – nine pages, front and back.  I wanted to give Max the letter during lunch, and neither of my friends believed I would do it.  My only concern was Trisha.  If she was with him, I knew I couldn’t approach him.

Lunch arrived, but Max was nowhere in sight.  I had the letter in my purse, but I was already experiencing cold feet.  When Max appeared from around a corner, I almost swallowed my tongue.  Trisha was with him.  I guess seeing her gave me an out – I’d already told my friends I wouldn’t do it if she showed up.  Olivia and Aurelia told me that they would deliver the letter if I wanted them to.  I adamantly shook my head, and they assumed it was because of Trisha.

Max sat on a bench in between a long line of people.  My heart was beating in my throat as I watched Trisha sit down on his lap.  Max quickly moved her off, and they both began laughing.  They were looking more and more like a couple.  I heard a voice inside telling me that I was going to lose Max completely if I didn’t make my move.

My legs suddenly started moving in Max’s direction.  Somehow, the letter got in my right hand.  I utterly amazed myself when I stood in front of Max and said, “This is for you.”

Trisha turned my way, and her look seemed to be saying, “Who do you think you are?”

Max reached out and took the letter from me.  “Is that all?” he asked.

“It’s from me.”  I’m unsure why I said that.

“Okay.  I’ll read it later.”  He stuck the letter into his jacket pocket.

Trisha stared at him skeptically.  I could almost hear her saying, “You aren’t really gonna take that, are you?”

I turned and walked away.  My legs felt like rubber bands, but my heart felt very good.  Max would know that I still loved him.  He would know that he held my heart in his hands; he was my reason for living.  He would know because I told him those things at least twenty times in my letter.  He would know I really meant it because I swallowed my fear and delivered the letter myself.

“What did you just do?” Olivia asked when I got back.

“I gave Max his letter.”  I tried to act cool and nonchalant.

“You did it right in front of his girlfriend.  What did he say?”

“He said he would read it.  He’s gonna read it!”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Neither can I.”

It was Thursday.  I hadn’t seen Max since I gave him the letter.  I wondered if he was avoiding me.  I was nervous about the meeting at his house, but I was going nonetheless.

I told my mom I’d be home before ten, and I started walking up the street to Max’s house.  A car pulled alongside of me, and I turned to see who was driving.  It was Lindsey Moore.

“Hi, Kat.  Want a ride to Max’s?”

“It’s not that far.  I’ll walk.”

“Oh, come on.  I don’t know exactly where he lives.  You can show me.”

I reluctantly got into her car.  “It’s less than a block...”  I pointed up the street, and we were soon in Max’s yard.

We were the first ones to arrive, but Debbie Carson and Beverly Corley drove up before we went inside.  Max’s mom answered the door wearing red knit Capri pants and a red and white striped sweater.  She had her cigarette precariously perched in the corner of her lips.  Corky was yipping in the background.  I didn’t see Max.

“Come in, come in.  I’m Max’s Aunt Matilda,” so, she wasn’t my future mother-in-law after all.  “Max is in his bedroom – just go on back.”  She pointed towards the opposite side of the house, and I followed Debbie, Lindsey, and Bev to the last door.  Debbie knocked, and Max opened the door.  He told us to come in.  I felt odd going into his bedroom, but he didn’t seem to mind.  He even smiled at me as I entered right behind Debbie.

His bedroom was neat and clean.  He had albums on his shelves and a stereo on his chest-of-drawers.  He told us to sit on his bed.  I turned around towards his bed, and what I saw amazed me.  Stuck on his wall was my letter.  I recognized it right away because my handwriting is very small and unique.  Then I saw the key ring hanging underneath it.  The same key ring I gave him for Christmas the year before.  It had to be.  It was right under my letter.  Why were they hanging on the wall?

Max noticed them at about the same time I did.  In record time, he pulled both items off the wall and put them in his closet.  Beverly saw what was happening, too.

“What’s that?” she asked.  “Is that a love letter?”

“It’s nothing,” he answered, trying to avoid my gaze.

“Let me see.”  Bev was being insistent.

“It’s just some notes I’ve been studying.  Really…”

I could tell Bev didn’t believe him, but he was guarding the closet.  She couldn’t go through him, so she gave up.  I noticed that Max’s face was bright red.

We all sat down on the bed, and Max put on an album.  It was Elton John’s “Tumble Weed Connection.”  I noticed Max looking at me as the album started.  Max – and everyone else in the universe – knew that I loved Elton; it was more widely known than my feelings for Max.  Still, I didn’t deceive myself into believing Max played the album for me.  I could tell that he also liked Elton John; he had several of his albums.

A short while later, Max’s aunt called us into the living room.  She and Max’s dad, Alex, were going out for the evening.  Before leaving, his aunt told us that there was plenty of beer in the fridge.  I looked around to see if anyone else thought this announcement was odd, but I seemed to be the only one.

After the adults had gone, Max asked if anyone wanted something to drink.  Debbie asked for soda, Lindsey didn’t want anything, and Bev asked for some water.  I was playing with Corky when I heard Max say, “What about you, Kat?”

I looked up and Max was getting a bottle of beer.  “I’ll have what you’re having,” I said, trying hard to look cool.

“How old are you?” Max asked slyly.

“I’ll be fifteen in December,” I answered.

Max handed me the beer in his hand, and then he got himself another one out of the refrigerator.  I tried to open my bottle, but I wasn’t strong enough.  Max took it from me and screwed the lid off.  “Do you know how to drink it?”

“Ha, ha,” I said with a smirk as I took hold of the bottle.  I decided to try my hand at small talk…with Max.  “Does your aunt live here with you and your dad?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, and it seemed clear that he didn’t want to continue with that conversation.  So much for small talk.  I took a swallow of the beer.  Max watched me with anticipation.  I could tell he thought I had never tasted a beer before.  What he didn’t know was that my dad let me drink beer all the time.  True, I had never finished a whole one, but, since I liked the taste, I was sure I could handle it.

Sam arrived a little later, followed by the other members who showed up.  I was still sipping my bottle of beer, and Sam asked for one of her own.  Soon, just about everyone was drinking beer.

Around half way through the meeting – and half way through my beer – I began feeling a little tipsy.  In addition, my beer didn’t taste nearly as good as it had in the beginning.  Hiding the bottle behind me, I leaned over to Max and asked where the restroom was.  He directed me, and, once I was inside, I poured the rest of that Miller down the drain.  I sat down on the toilet long enough to compose myself before heading back out into the meeting.  I sat beside Sam, who was behind Max.  She saw the empty beer bottle in my hand and whispered, “How’d you down that beer so fast?”

Max glanced at me over his shoulder.  I could see that he was still nursing his first bottle, and it was only half empty.  “Let me get you another one,” he said.  Before I could stop him, he was up and in the kitchen.

I rushed behind him.  As he took another beer out of the refrigerator, I said, “That’s okay.  Someone else might want another one, and I’d hate to disappoint them...”

Max raised his hand to stop me.  “We have plenty.  Matilda bought four six-packs.  Here, enjoy yourself.”

Reluctantly, I took the bottle.  Max watched until I’d taken the first sip, and then he said we should go back to the meeting.  The beer was looking – and possibly tasting – more and more like horse pee.  I felt like puking, but I couldn’t endure the ensuing humiliation.  Instead, I decided that the best solution was to drink the beer as fast as I could – then I’d soon be through with it.

The meeting ended around the same time that I finished the second beer.  I felt very tired, and some of the people in the room were looking fuzzy.  Additionally, I felt light-headed and everything seemed incredibly funny.  Sam was thoroughly enjoying my intoxication, but she also worried about the consequences I might be facing.

“What are your parents gonna say, Kat?”

I hadn’t thought about my parents.  They would kill me – I was sure.  “Oh, they won’t care,” I lied.

“Wow, that’s cool.  My mom would strangle me.”

My head was starting to hurt.  “I think I should go home now.”

I told everyone goodbye and started for home.  I glanced back once.  Max was standing in the doorway watching me.  He waved goodbye.  I smiled and waved back.  I wasn’t sure if he was smiling back or if he was snickering at the drunken fool walking away.

I arrived to an empty house – what luck!  I went inside and got ready for bed.  I was almost asleep when our car pulled into the drive.  I could hear Birdie laughing and giggling.  Mom came into my room.

“Kat, are you okay?  Why are you in bed at nine o’clock?”

“I have a terrible headache.  I just want to sleep.”

“Have you been drinking?  I smell beer.  What’s going on?”

My imagination was still working, luckily.  “I spilled a beer in Max’s refrigerator.  It got on my clothes, and I felt too bad to change.  You know Max’s aunt wouldn’t let us drink.”

“What were you doing in their refrigerator?”

“His aunt needed help with drinks for everyone.  I offered to help.”  I would get an A+ in Fantasy for the night.

“Well, you should get out of those stinky clothes – although no one will notice.  Your father smells like a brew factory himself.”  I was too young and too drunk to notice the bitterness in my mom’s last statement.

“I’ll just sleep like this.  I’m too tired to move.”  I shut my eyes and was asleep in record time.

My birthday came and went without much ado.  Olivia and Aurelia made more fuss over me than anyone.  The excitement about the upcoming Bons Copains party was too much for me – it overshadowed my fifteenth birthday and just about everything else in my life.  Besides, my sixteenth year would be the one to celebrate – I could start dating then.

Daddy turned forty-seven that year, and he seemed healthier than ever.  Dad was spending quite a lot of time at Bob’s – a neighborhood bar – and this concerned Mom.  He would leave before eight every morning and he wouldn’t come home until after two in the afternoon.  Then he would head straight for bed to sleep off his inebriation.  Mom would work hard all day, and, when she got home, Daddy would be expecting dinner right away.  And, of course, Rebecca never cooked.  Believe me, that was a blessing.

My own affairs kept me from paying too much attention to the animosity that was building at our house.  I didn’t even notice that my mom was becoming stoic, while my dad was becoming malicious.

Shortly after my birthday, Rebecca announced that she and Birdie were moving out.  She said she could no longer tolerate my mother’s faultfinding and insults.  They were moving into a tiny one bedroom apartment about one mile from our house.  My parents tried to point out the foolishness in Rebecca’s plan: she had no transportation, no one to help with Birdie, and she was six months pregnant.  My mom also told her that she would try to be less critical if Rebecca would only agree to pick up after Birdie and herself.  Rebecca stood her ground.  She was moving out the next day.

After Rebecca and Birdie moved, some tiny semblance of normality returned to our lives.  Mom became more jovial, and Dad stayed home more.  I found that I missed Birdie, but we visited her almost every day.  The peace that echoed through our house was a blessing. Best of all, I had my room all to myself again.  I spent the day after they moved rededicating my room to Elton John, and every night I would fall asleep to one of his tapes.

The day of the party finally arrived, and I was more than ready.  Mom had bought me a new outfit and it wasn’t polyester or blue.  I rode to the party with Sam – she’d turned sixteen only six days earlier.  We got to Mrs. Kalakos’ house just before eight at night.  A few cars were already in the driveway.  Mrs. Kalakos lived in a beautiful two-story brick house with white columns out front.  The front door opened into a large plush living room, with a winding stairway on one side. The kitchen was visible in the back.

Mrs. Kalakos and her husband Dmitri met us at the door.  Dmitri, as he insisted we call him, had a deep, dark tan and he was incredibly handsome: black hair and mustache, striking physique, and dark blue abysmal eyes.  They jubilantly invited us inside and gave us the grand tour.  Upstairs were four bedrooms and a luxurious bathroom.  The master bedroom was huge and it had its own bathroom, too.  The kitchen was full of cabinet space.  There was a breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from a small dining area, and trays of food covered it.  A table held more trays and plenty of cups, plates, and drinks.  A hand-crafted oak door led out of the kitchen area and into a huge backyard.  Another door led into the former garage, now a lavish game room furnished with a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, a dart board, and a bar with several tall stools around it.  The door that led to the dining room lay just under the staircase, and another bathroom was just past the dining room at the end of a small hallway.

I was sufficiently impressed.  I’d never been in a house like theirs before.

Dmitri proved to be a great host.  He played games with us, and, later, he put on some music for us to dance to.  The food and drinks were delicious.  He even had beer, but he didn’t allow anyone to drink it inside – he sent them into the backyard.

I stayed away from the beer that night, but Sam was drinking one after another.  She soon joined some of the others that were drinking, and she left me all alone in the kitchen.  I began to wonder if I’d have to call my mom to pick me up.

I spent my time watching Max.  He seemed to be having a wonderful time while I was finding it a bit boring.  He barely acknowledged my existence that night, and I felt terribly alone.  I started wondering if I had made a mistake in joining Bons Copains.  I really didn’t fit in with the other members.  I also thought about my latest experiences with Max.  I felt the sting of tears when I realized that he had just been playing games with me.  I suddenly knew that I meant nothing to him.  I spent the remainder of the party alone on Mrs. Kalakos couch, watching people dance, listening to the music, and feeling sorry for myself.

I stayed in Bons Copains at Sam’s insistence.  After the Christmas break, we voted to have a membership drive.  I encouraged Olivia to join, but she hesitated.  She felt that many of the members were snobs, and she wanted no part of them.  I was unsuccessful with all of my friends.  No one wanted to join Bons Copains.

We began accepting applications for new members, and then we decided that each member would adopt a prospective member as a little brother or little sister.  Unfortunately, there were more members than prospects, so some people had no one assigned to them.  Sam didn’t have a prospect; neither did Max.  I was lucky – or unlucky – enough to get assigned a little sister.  Her name was Aurora Wells.  She was a ninth grader, and I had seen her a few times at PE – although she was in a different class.  Aurora was a big girl – tall and chunky.  She wore her long black hair in a shag haircut, and it always looked unkempt.  She wasn’t unattractive – she had big brown eyes and a friendly smile – but she was overbearing and loud.  I knew right away that I was her big sister for one reason: no one else wanted her.

Mrs. Kalakos introduced me to Aurora one Monday afternoon.  The other teams of members and prospects were also present, and I looked around to see if I recognized any of the other new comers.  Pete McDermott and Phil Avis, a good-looking ninth grader, were teamed together; Rita Daltery was put with her real sister, Mandy; Beverly Corley was with Cherry Trinity, a sophomore and a cheerleader; Matt Bruin was paired with Michael Barr from my Chemistry class; and Kevin Cone matched up with Kyle Anders, a quiet and shy sophomore.  I had the only dud in the bunch.

Aurora was happy to be my little sister.  She incorrectly assumed that being a member of a service club made you popular.  She decided right away that we would be best friends, and, of course, she wanted to share all her deepest secrets with me.  I was less enthusiastic, and I ditched her when we left Mrs. Kalakos’ room.

The next day in PE, Aurora wouldn’t leave me alone.  Her teacher allowed her to come over to the track and talk to me.  Mrs. Ray didn’t seem to object to Aurora hanging around either.  I was almost ready to hurt her feelings when she blurted out, “Why did you join the club anyway?”

I did not intend to share my secrets with her.  “I wanted to be in a club, and Sam asked me.”

“Oh.  My reason is better.  Want to hear it?”

Not particularly, I thought; but I said, “I guess.”

“There’s this guy in the club, and I’m in love with him.  I’m hoping I can get him to notice me.”

Now she had my attention.  “Really?  Anyone I know?”  I was expecting Pete McDermott or Matt Bruin.  They seemed her type.

I certainly wasn’t ready for her answer.  “Max.  Max Savage.  Do you know him?”

“I know who he is.  Does he know you?”

“Well, he might not remember, but we met once a long time ago.  Now I just admire him from afar.  He is so cute.  I just have to meet him again.  Do you think I have a chance?”

I wanted to scream, “No!!  He’s mine; all mine!”  Instead, I said, “How should I know?  All you can do is try.”

“I’m going to give it my best shot,” she continued.  “I already know so much about him and we’ll have lots to talk about.  My mom went to school with his mom.”

My ears perked up.  I’d never discovered why Max’s aunt lived with him, and I’d never seen his mom around at all.  “Have you met his parents?” I asked nonchalantly.

“I met his dad briefly.  My mom and I were at his mother’s funeral.  She died when I was ten, so I guess Max was about thirteen.  He was so sad that day.  I’ve loved him ever since.”

At this news, I was overcome with sadness myself.  “I’ve really got to go, Aurora.  I’ve got to run the track.  Good luck with your romance.”  I practically knocked another girl down trying to get away from Aurora, and I jogged around the track as fast as I could.  If Mrs. Ray hadn’t blown her whistle to signify the end of class, I might have been able to get a quarter of the way around before running out of breath.  I guess I’ll never know.

That afternoon on the bus, I began to see some usefulness in my new knowledge.  Aurora was so enthusiastic about her love for Max and much more willing to admit it than I had been.  This was my chance to divert attention from myself and focus it all on Aurora.  The beauty of it was that Aurora wouldn’t even care.

Bons Copains had a meeting that Thursday at Pete McDermott’s house.  Aurora was there, and she spent all of her time around Max.  He didn’t even notice her until I pulled her over to Max and introduced them.  I quietly slipped away as Aurora poured on all her charm.  She still had Max cornered when I left.  I didn’t even care if he was mad at me.

The next meeting was at Max’s again.  This meeting was very important, and Mrs. Kalakos told the inductees that they had to attend to become members.  Aurora was on pins and needles.  She couldn’t wait to see Max’s house and meet his dad and his aunt.  It was all she talked about.

The meeting was starting at six; in the past, it hadn’t started until seven.  After the meeting, everyone was going over to Mama Mia’s Pizzeria to play some games and eat pizza.  Sam and I had discussed the evening, and she was going to drive us to Mama Mia’s.  I didn’t have to be home until eleven.

I walked to Max’s house, and there was only one car in the drive.  The car belonged to Cherry Trinity’s mother.  She was dropping her off at Max’s.  Cherry was my age.  She was tall and thin, and she had long red hair.  I didn’t really know her, but she waited in Max’s yard until I caught up to her.

Max met us at the door.  His dad and aunt had left for the evening, and he offered us some refreshments.  He asked me if I wanted a beer, and I said maybe later.  In the meantime, I took a glass of ice water.

It was almost six o’clock, and Aurora hadn’t gotten there yet.  I couldn’t imagine what was keeping her, but I was glad she wasn’t there.  I wondered what would happen when she did arrive.

Sam came in the door with a big smile on her face.  She was eager to get the evening started.  She pulled me over to a corner and said, “Have you ever smoked pot before?”

My eyes got very big.  “No!  Of course not.  Have you?”

“Just a little bit ago.  It’s neat – I do it all the time.  I don’t have any more, but I’m gonna buy some beer after we leave Max’s house tonight.  I’m gonna see if anyone else wants to go with us.”

I just nodded at Sam.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about her plans.

“Listen,” I said, changing the subject, “Guess who has a big crush on Max?”

“You!  You told me that already!”

“I mean someone else...”

“Someone else has a crush on Max?  Who?”

“Aurora Wells!  She is really crazy about him.”

“Yuck!  I can’t stand that slimy girl.  She looks like she never takes a bath.  I bet he’s thrilled.  Maybe she’ll convince him that you aren’t the worst thing that could happen to him...”

“Thanks a lot!”

“Sorry – I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  I just meant that you aren’t as bad as she is...”

“Stop with all the compliments.  You’re beginning to embarrass me.”

Just then, the phone rang.  Max answered it, and then he looked at me.  “It’s for you, Kat.”

I gave Max a puzzled look, but I took the phone.  It was Aurora.

“Kat, you have to come pick me up.  I don’t have a ride to the meeting, and I have to be there to become a member.”

“Aurora, you know I’m not old enough to drive.  Besides, I don’t know where you live.”

“I live in Lavender Park, apartment 2010-C.  Isn’t there someone who can come?”

“I don’t know, let me ask someone.”

“Kat, ask Max.  I’d love for him to pick me up.  I know he has a car.”

“Okay – hold on a minute.”

I held the receiver against my chest and turned towards Sam and Max just in time to hear Sam tell Max that Aurora was in love with him.  The look on Max’s face told me everything I needed to know – he didn’t want any part of her.  Now it was time for me to push the envelope.

“Max,” I called out, “Aurora doesn’t have a ride to the meeting.  She lives in Lavender Park and she wants to know if you will pick her up.”

“Lavender Park?  No – tell her no.  Tell her my car has a flat.  Tell her anything as long as it is no.”

I put the phone back to my ear.  “Aurora, Max can’t pick you up.  He has to stay here because his dad’s not here.  He can’t leave the rest of us in his house alone.”

“Isn’t there anyone else?  I can’t miss this meeting.”

“Actually, there’s no one else here that has a car.”  I was lying, but I knew Sam would never go pick her up.  “I’ll keep asking when people come in, but I can’t promise.  Give me your number so I can call you back for directions if I do find someone.”

Aurora called out her number.  I jotted the number down even though I knew I wouldn’t be calling her back.  Out of the whole club, I probably cared the most about her predicament, and I didn’t care very much.  I felt a little sorry that she wouldn’t be making it into our club, but not too bad.

I hung up the phone, and Max walked over to me.  “Well, is she coming?”

“I don’t think so.  No one wants to pick her up.  I don’t think too many people like her.  But she told me that she really likes you, and she was certain that you felt the same.”

I watched Max’s face intently.  I was sure I would see his disgust, but what I saw was pity.  “I would go pick her up if she didn’t live in Lavender Park, but that place is dangerous.  I’d probably get my tires slashed – I might even get mugged.  It’s a shame that Aurora has to live there.  And now she won’t be getting into the club either.”

“Wow, I guess you do like her.”  I hoped this was just another rag on Max, but part of me feared I had guessed the truth.

“Not in the way she seems to like me.  But she seemed nice.  And her mother used to know my mother.  It would have been nice to talk to someone about my mom.”  I suddenly felt very wicked for this little game I’d come up with.  I’d played with Aurora’s feelings without a thought, and I hadn’t taken into account that Max might not be as repelled by Aurora as I wanted him to be.

After the meeting, Sam and I headed out to her car, a tan-colored ‘68 Impala.  I started to get in the front seat, and Sam said, “You might want to ride in the back.  Kyle Anders, Mike Barr, and Cherry Trinity are riding with us.  I’ll get Cherry up front, and the boys will be in the back with you.  Since you’ve given up on Max, you’ll have a blast.”

I didn’t know I had given up on Max, but it still sounded like fun.  I climbed into the backseat, and I was soon sitting between Kyle and Mike.  As we backed out of the yard, I noticed Max watching us from the living room window.  I wondered how he felt about our seating arrangement.

Our first stop was a liquor store.  Sam went inside.  I was nervous.  I was certain we were going to get caught trying to buy beer.  A few minutes later, Sam came out with two six-packs.  Cheers erupted from both sides of me as Sam passed each of us a Miller High Life.  Mike opened mine for me, and then challenged me to a chugging contest.  I turned my beer up and drank half of it in one swallow.  Mike did the same.  We decided it was a draw.  I was getting used to the taste of beer.

A little later, we stopped by Mama Mia’s Pizzeria, but we didn’t stay long.  We couldn’t buy beer in there, and, besides, there was plenty waiting for us in the car.  We each had two beers, and then Sam pulled through a liquor store drive-up and bought another six-pack.  After the third beer, Kyle said he had to go home.  He lived in a neighborhood called Rosewood, and so did Mike.  We let Kyle out first, and he staggered up to his front door.  Mike rode with his arm around me until we reached his house.  He kissed me on the cheek, and it surprised me.  Then he leaned in through Cherry’s window and kissed her, too.  I felt I would never understand boys.

Miraculously, we made it home safely that night.  I wasn’t the least bit scared when I entered our house, and neither Mom nor Dad knew I’d been drinking.  That night was a prelude to my carousing days.  It would get much worse before it got better.

The next week, Mrs. Kalakos posted the new club members.  Aurora didn’t make it, and Kyle Anders withdrew his application.  Everyone else made the cut.  Additionally, two others joined in the place of Aurora and Kyle: a sophomore named Sunny Wren and the star quarterback of our football team, Kenny Byron.

Sunny lived a few blocks from me, and we started riding together to all the meetings.  Although we made an unlikely pair, we were soon good friends.  Sunny was very sophisticated, and she considered herself a member of high society.  I later learned that her mother was from a very rich family, but her father was just average.  Sunny’s mom spoiled her rotten.  Sunny would try to boss me around from time to time, but I would usually stand up to her.  It was only when she put on her pouty face that I would give in and do her bidding.  She would lower her big blue eyes, wrinkle her little nose, poke out her full red lips, and bat her long thick eyelashes; I could almost see the tears in her eyes.   Her silky black hair crowned her head like two floppy ears, and she reminded me of a puppy that needed loving.  I know – I was a sucker.

Sam had grown tired of Bons Copains.  She hadn’t officially withdrawn, but she was skipping all the meetings.  Sunny moved right into Sam’s shoes as my club buddy.  Sunny didn’t drink or anything, so she was mostly good for me.  Sam and I were still friends, but we would never again be as close as in those first months in Bons Copains.

A few things were changing at school.  My circle of friends was growing, and my grades were holding up pretty well.  I was beginning to hate French – or maybe it was just Monsieur Guest that I hated.  The first semester ended, and school was half over.

As the new semester began, Mr. Raymond – my Chemistry teacher – married his long time sweetheart and moved away to her hometown of Pittsburgh.  Mr. Billet would be our new Chemistry teacher.  I was a little saddened, but I soon learned that Mr. Billet was less demanding and that I had more time for writing in his class.  Mr. Billet was much older than Mr. Raymond.  He was very short and skinny and he combed his obviously dyed black hair over the top of his head in an effort to conceal his baldness.  I was sure he thought that the sparse comb-over completely fooled everyone; I’m also sure that a few years later Mr. Billet would become the number one fan of hair in a can.  Mr. Billet was passionate about chemistry and his lectures could be stimulating and compelling.  Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – his stamina was low, so his lectures generally lasted less than half an hour and his assignments never took more than ten minutes to complete.  I usually had thirty minutes to spend on my stories and notes.

Second semester also meant moving into Driver’s Ed and leaving World History behind.  I would now answer to three teachers instead of one, and I would have no time for note writing.  Coach Maharis would be our classroom instructor.  He would show us gruesome movies and make us memorize the Driver’s Handbook.  A jovial sort, Maharis didn’t fit in with the other coaches in Driver’s Ed.  He was younger than the others, and he didn’t mind joking around from time to time.  Coach Oliver would instruct us on the driving range.  A strict taskmaster, you’d get no breaks or compliments from him.  He spent most of his time yelling at us over an intercom, and no one was immune from his criticism.  Coach Kravitz took us on the road for practice.  He wasn’t as stern as Coach Oliver, but he was no piece of cake either.  He was good at recognizing mistakes, but he didn’t yell the way Coach Oliver did.

The coaches split the class into two groups.  Each group would spend two week intervals either in the classroom or on the range.  Coach Kravitz would select students from the range group to go on the road.  I would be in the classroom with Coach Maharis for the first two weeks.

Coach seated us alphabetically, but I didn’t know anyone that was sitting around me.  Actually, I didn’t know anyone in my group at all.  I soon met Mona Jones who was sitting in front of me.  Mona was about my height, but she was boney.  She had long dishwater blond hair and big blue eyes.  She was very friendly, and she loved to talk.  We became friends the very first day of class.  She introduced me to her cousin Bill who was also in the class.  Bill was tall and lanky.  He had the same color hair as Mona, but his eyes were a duller shade of blue.  He liked to talk almost as much as Mona, so I did a lot of listening when they were both around.

There were also some changes on the bus.  A new family had moved in next door to Aurelia, and there were several children.  Three of them started riding our bus.  Stella was the youngest of the three.  She was a freshman, and she was extremely shy.  She had long curly brown hair and she wore thick glasses over her blue eyes.  She seemed nice, but she rarely spoke to anyone other than her brothers, Wayne and Roger.  The boys were twins and they were juniors.  Wayne was very friendly and witty.  I liked him immediately.  He wasn’t handsome at all with his uneven blue eyes, crooked nose, and dull brownish-gray hair that had a cowlick in front.  But he was a charmer.  Kind-hearted and sincere, Wayne always made me laugh.  Roger was more arrogant and less pleasant.  Although they were twins, Roger didn’t look much like Wayne.  Roger had the same washed out hair color as Wayne, but Roger had an extremely handsome face.  While Wayne was gangly and somewhat scrawny, Roger was much shorter and compactly built.  I didn’t much care for Roger and he didn’t seem to like me either, but it was clear that Roger loved his brother and sister very much.  With the addition of these new faces, the bus began to be interesting again, and I quit dreading the trips I had to make on it.

At the beginning of February, Rick came back from his sea cruise.  Rebecca and Birdie had long ago moved back in with us, but now the true end was in sight.  Rick had to be in Norfolk, Virginia before March, and he planned to take his family with him.  They left during the last week of February.  On April1st, their new little baby, Carl, was born in Norfolk.  You can’t imagine how happy we all were that it didn’t happen in Foster’s Bank.

The school year was accelerating rapidly.  My grades were better than average, and, when it came time for registration, I tried to select classes that might peak my interest.  I had determined that I wouldn’t take another year of French, and I chose to take Physics and Algebra II, although neither were requirements.  As my interest in writing continued to intensify, I also registered for Journalism.  American History was a requirement, along with English.  For my final elective, I chose Accounting because it involved math.  All of my friends laughed at my selections, but I knew what my interests were.

After Easter and Spring Break, the approach of another Bons Copains party – this time at Max’s house –mollified me in the long weeks before school’s end.  Sam and a number of other members were not planning to go for one reason or another, but Sunny and I were going to be there – even if we were the only guests.  I could hardly contain my excitement, and I intended to have a good time.  I even swore that I wouldn’t drink any beer so I would be able to remember every detail.

In the time since Christmas vacation, I had been learning to control my desires for Max.  I talked of him less frequently, and even some of my closer friends began to believe that I was over him.   At times, I think Max believed it, too.  On occasion, he fully tried to get my attention, but I would pretend to ignore him.  Only Olivia and Aurelia knew that I still loved Max, and they could keep my secret.

On the night of the party, I put on my favorite Elton John T-shirt and a pair of Levi’s.  Sunny called to say she would meet me outside Max’s at seven.  I applied my makeup while I listened to “Crocodile Rock,” and I started feeling melancholy.  Part of me knew that tonight was my last chance.  Max would soon be graduating, and I might never see him again.  Imagine how that would ruin my plans!

As I left for Max’s house, the sun was still glowing, but the moon was already visible.  I scanned the sky for a star – I desperately needed a wish come true – but there were none in sight.  Entering Max’s yard, I steeled myself – I couldn’t afford to let nerves ruin the biggest night of my life.  Sunny was waiting in the yard, and we entered the house together.

Ten people – including Sunny and me – came to the party.  I didn’t know all of our newest members, and I wondered if all the people present were really part of Bons Copains.  Matt Bruin and his girlfriend Linda Spivey were making out in one corner, Phil Avis and Kevin Cone were discussing sports over their beers in the kitchen, and Cherry Trinity and Bev Corley were gossiping in the living room.  Two people – a boy and a girl – I didn’t recognize were looking through albums on the floor.  Max was setting up a card table for the snacks and drinks.  Sunny and I, the last to arrive, helped Max get his refreshment area set up.

Max offered us beers, but Sunny and I took Hawaiian Punch instead.  Everyone moved into the living room, and Max put on some music.  Some people started dancing while the rest of us just sat around talking.  Sunny and I sat on the floor across the room from Max and the stereo.  If Sunny hadn’t been there, the night might have been boring, but her incessant talking gave me something to do.

At around nine o’clock, someone turned out all the lights in the house.  Sunny and I watched as everyone paired up and began dancing.  The only ones not dancing were Sunny, Max, and me.  A little later, Max put on a different album and then he pulled his chair closer to our side of the room.  The album was Elton John’s “Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only the Piano Player”; the first song was “Daniel,” my favorite.  Sunny leaned over and elbowed me.

“KK, Max is staring at you.”

I glanced over at Max, but I couldn’t tell where his eyes were.  “Why would he be staring at me?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe he’s going to ask you to dance.”

The songs kept playing.  “Teacher I Need You,” “Elderberry Wine,” and “Blues for Baby and Me.”

I felt Sunny’s elbow again.  “He’s staring again.  Look at him.  I think he likes you.”

Maybe I had had too many disappointments, or maybe I was being a realist for once in my life.  Whatever the reason, I refused to believe that Max was watching me.  “I don’t think so.”

At ten thirty, the album ended, and Max got up to turn it over.  Matt and Linda walked over to him.

“Great party, Bro,” Matt said, “but I gotta get Linda home.  See ya!”

Cherry, Bev, Kevin, and the guy I didn’t know decided to leave as well.  The party was down to four plus Max.

As side two of the album played, Sunny kept reminding me that Max was watching.  I kept ignoring her.  “Crocodile Rock” ended, and I knew there was only one song left on the album, “High Flying Bird.”  Max sat on the floor almost right in front of me.  Even with my lousy night vision, I could now see that Max was staring at me.  Not only that, but he was singing.  He was singing a love song while looking straight at me!  I became flabbergasted and confused.  I couldn’t move or speak.

Not so Sunny.  I was certain that Max and everyone else heard her, and her elbow was creating a permanent indentation in my right arm as she pounded it relentlessly.  “KK, he’s singing to you!  Can you believe it?  He’s actually singing that song to you!  Look, look!”

“Shut up,” I said – vehemently but quietly.

He never took his eyes off me until the end of the song.  After that, he quickly stood up and changed the album to the Rolling Stones “Sticky Fingers.”

I couldn’t breathe.  I suddenly knew I had to leave.  I didn’t know why Max was singing to me, but I was afraid that it was some kind of joke.

“Sunny, I have to go.  I’m supposed to be home by eleven.”

Sunny stood up with me.  “Is it that late?  My mom is probably here.”

Sure enough, her mother pulled into the yard right at that moment.  Max came over to tell her goodbye.

“I enjoyed it, Max.  Thanks.”  Then she looked at me, “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Sunny bounded out the door and into her mom’s car.  I stood in the entrance watching them drive away.  I suddenly realized that Max was beside me.

“You don’t have to leave, do you?” he asked.

“Is it eleven yet?” I countered.

Using only the moonlight, he looked at his watch.  “It’s about five till,” he said.

He was standing close; I could feel his arm brushing against mine.  For the longest time, we stood there alone in the doorway without speaking.  I finally turned and looked up into his face.  I wasn’t sure what I saw there.

“I guess I should go,” I broke the silence, and – it seemed – the spell.

I opened the door to go outside.  He followed me into the yard.

“Will you be okay?  I can walk with you if you like,” then suddenly, the desire left his voice – either he remembered that he had guests or that this was Kat, I’m not sure which.  “Oh, um...people...inside.  I mean...I’ll still walk with you if you want me to.”

At least he’d been mine for one moment.  “That’s okay, Max.  I’ll be fine; I’m not afraid.  I’ll see you later – at school.”

I turned away, and he said nothing more.  I looked back a couple of times and he was still standing there, watching me walk away.  I wondered if he was regretting anything, but I’d never know.  Tears filled my eyes.  By the time I got home, I was bawling.  Lucky for me, my parents were out for the evening.

Safe in my bed, I dreamed of my future with Max.  Then I fell asleep.

Chapter 11

“You never told me about that before,” Olivia said.  “Are you sure that’s the way it happened?”

“Olivia, you never joined Bons Copains in the tenth grade.  I guess we were juniors when you got that crush on Pete.”

“Changing the subject?  You used to never change it when we were talking about Max.  That was your favorite topic.”

“I’m a little bit older now.  Besides, we’re talking about you and Pete.”

“It was eleventh grade.  I’m sure of it.  We were old enough to drive, remember?”

“How many times a day did we cruise by Pete’s house?”  I raised my right eyebrow.

“Pete is in the past; let’s leave him there,” Olivia said.  “Any way, is there anything else you haven’t told me about Max?”

“The story ends right about there.  Of course there was that meeting when we elected officials for the next year.”

“That’s when you became head of the Membership Committee.”

“I wasn’t the head of the committee.  I was just a member.  No one paid me any attention.”

“That’s not true.  You were pretty popular in that club – whether you believe it or not.  At least you had a lot of friends.”

“They weren’t really my friends.  Just acquaintances.  But that’s okay.  It was a long time ago.”  I could still feel some of the anguish nonetheless.

“I remember you got Max to sign your yearbook without any problem that year.  He wrote more than in ninth grade, too.  Do you think he ever really liked you, Kat?  Don’t you think that he might have been making fun of you?  I’m not trying to hurt you; I just don’t want you to romanticize things that happened a long time ago and get yourself into a depression.  He’s not worth it.  Not then and certainly not now.”

“You know, Olivia, I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times.  And I’m not any closer to answering it than I was twenty years ago.  I have to believe that one day I’ll be able to let the whole thing go.”

“I thought you had...what set you back?”

“I’ve seen him.  Three times this week.”

“Where?  Did you talk to him?  Tell me about it, Kat,” Olivia said excitedly.

“He was in Hurricane Gardens.  He saw me, but he didn’t recognize me.  There was something odd about him.  He seemed depressed or troubled.  I felt sorry for him.”  I could still see his tormented face.

“I’ve seen him, too.  Not at the garden, I mean.  I saw him in our office.  This was several months ago...”

“You saw him...and you didn’t tell me?”  I was indignant.

“I thought it was best.  I know how you get.  Anyway, did you get a good look at him, Kat?  He’s changed quite a bit.”

“How?  Sure he’s older – so are we.”

“Kat!  He’s...he’s...  Let’s be brutally honest here.  He’s ugly.  Of course, he was ugly in high school, too.  I never could figure out what you saw in him.”  Olivia was always critical about Max.  We just didn’t see him the same way.

“I’ll admit that he’s no George Clooney, but he’s still Max – no matter how he looks.  And I still care about him.”

“No George Clooney, no George Jones...shoot, George and Kramer on Seinfeld outclass Max.  Let me explain – Max could appear in any horror movie without the aid of makeup.”  Olivia giggled at her wit.

“Okay, okay.  I know you think Max is hideous.  We never did share an interest in the same type of men.  That’s why we’ll always be friends.  A man will never come between us.  And it helps that I know how to ignore your digs against my men.”

“I never knocked Ben, but I never knew him that well either.  So go ahead, make some pot shots at Pete.  He’s gained a few pounds and you never liked him much.  Go ahead.  Let me have it.”

“Um...he’s not your boyfriend or crush anymore.” I said.  “Besides, what would I say?  He’s just not my type.”  I had always found it difficult to make fun of Olivia’s men.  I never thought Pete was anything to look at, but many girls did, including Olivia.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I wasn’t going to change her picture of Pete even if I did kid her about his size and his ridiculous haircut.  And she wasn’t going to change my view of Max either.

“Ouch,” Olivia joked.  “You really know how to hurt a person.”  She suddenly jumped up and grabbed her purse.  “I’d love to sit around reminiscing all day, but I’ve got things to do.  How are you spending your Saturday?”

“I’m not sure, but something will come up.  It always does.”

“Well, see you later.  Keep me posted on Max, and I’ll let you know about Lee.  Somehow, I think I will be the one with more to tell...Max always lets me down.”

As I waved goodbye to Olivia, I couldn’t stop thinking that it was me he always let down.

Brad called later to ask why I had left so abruptly the night before.  We chatted for about an hour, and I told him about Olivia’s new romance with Lee.  Brad told me I sounded blue, and he wanted to come over.  I convinced him that I was fine, and I let him think I had plans for the rest of the weekend.  After we hung up, I noticed that I was feeling blue, and I decided to get out of the house.

I almost got into my car, but I changed my mind when I realized that I would probably drive back to my old neighborhood.  I decided to take a walk instead.  My niece Bridgett lived about a mile away from me, so I thought I might pay her a visit.

The dogwoods were in full bloom, and almost every house had at least one growing in the yard.  Most of them were white, but occasionally I would glimpse a pink one.  They reminded me of my mother who had several dogwoods in her yard.  Perhaps I would look in on her later.  Even though we talked on the phone every day, I hadn’t seen her in weeks.  This was her favorite time of year, and she would be outside planting her small garden and a variety of flowers.  I definitely needed to go see her.

Bridgett’s small white house was in view, and I could see through the chain link fence that Ginger, her two-year old, was playing in the front yard.  Bridgett was sitting on the front porch swing with little Brucie, her youngest, on her lap.  She stood up and waved as she saw me approaching.  Brucie climbed down her leg and scurried out into the yard.  He wasn’t even crawling the last time I visited.  I felt ashamed that I didn’t drop by more often, especially when they lived so close to me.

Bridgett was updating me on all the family gossip.  She had heard from her little brother Carl.  Carl would soon be graduating from a small college in Virginia.  Bridgett never could get the name of the school straight, so I didn’t bother to ask today.  She was very excited that Carl was going to get his degree, and she was sure he’d go on to become the president of Wal-Mart or something.  I didn’t bother Bridgett with the details of how someone actually gets to be in charge of Wal-Mart and other large companies.  She was proud of her brother and I didn’t want to spoil that.  Heck, I was proud of him too.

A lot of things had happened with my brother’s family after they moved away from my parents’ home and became independent.  A year after Carl was born, Rebecca lost a set of twins.  She was devastated and she soon turned to alcohol hoping it would relieve her pain.  She eventually became an alcoholic, and my brother considered ending their marriage.  Losing Rick was a sobering thought for Rebecca, and she gave up alcohol and started attending AA meetings.  Their marriage seemed stronger than ever, but around the time Carl turned seven, Rick asked Rebecca for a divorce.  He told my parents that Rebecca had become involved with several men around the Navy base, and he just couldn’t stand the ridicule any longer.  Rick allowed Rebecca to keep custody of Bridgett and Carl even though everyone else thought it was a bad idea.  Rebecca started drinking again and staying out late every night.  One night she left the kids with a neighbor, and then she just disappeared.  She never came back and no one, not even her mother, was ever able to locate her again.

A couple of years after that, Rick married a woman named Sharon.  Sharon had a daughter, Betsy, who was the same age as Carl.  Sharon was a godsend.  She became the mother Bridgett and Carl never had.  She loved them as dearly as she loved Betsy.

In time, Bridgett had met and married Kip Carter.  Kip was a personable young man even if he wasn’t extremely handsome.  Kip’s father owned a shrimp boat, the Mary-Kate, and Kip was a deckhand.  As an only son, one day Kip would own the boat, but for now he made a good living for his family.  Kip and Bridgett had three children, the aforementioned Ginger and Brucie, as well as a five year old boy named Richard, named for my brother Rick.

Bridgett spoke fondly of her mom and dad.  Rick was now retired from the Navy, and he and Sharon were living in Colorado Springs.  Rick had found a job with a military contractor there, and they had decided to make Colorado their home.  I knew Bridgett missed them, but she was overjoyed that her dad was finally enjoying life after so many years of grief.

Betsy, Bridgett’s step-sister, was also living in Colorado Springs.  She was attending a community college and hoping to become a teacher.  She and Bridgett kept in touch, but Betsy was much closer to Carl than she was to Bridgett.

Bridgett never mentioned Rebecca.  No one had seen or heard from her in so many years that it was easy for me to completely forget about her.  But I knew that deep-down, Bridgett and Carl still thought about Rebecca and wondered what had happened to her.  She was their mother after all.

After playing with Richard and Ginger for a while and holding Brucie as long as he would let me, I told Bridgett that I should go.  I told her to go visit Grammy – my mom – whenever she could, and I promised to drop by more often.  She reminded me that Ginger would be turning three in only two weeks, and I told her I would stop in for the party.  We hugged and said goodbye, and I began the walk back to my apartment.

Coming into my apartment complex, I noticed Olivia’s red Cavalier parked next to my Accord.  I turned towards the apartment building, and Olivia was walking towards me.  It was more of a run than a walk.

“Get in the car!” she yelled.

I gave her a bewildered look.  “What?”

“Get in my car,” her voice was commanding.  “Hurry up.”

Obediently, I opened the passenger door and got inside.  Olivia hopped into the other seat.

“What’s the hurry?” I asked.  Olivia started the car and backed up.  The tires were squealing as we sped out of the parking lot.

“The drawing is at noon.  I just know we’re gonna miss it.  I forgot all about it until an hour ago.  You can’t win if you aren’t present.”  Olivia was hysterical, and I had no idea what she was ranting about.

“What drawing?  Why do I need to go?”

“I entered your name.  One of us has to win.”

“Could you please explain?  I had plans...Where are we going, and what are we going to win?”

“Concert tickets – in the front row.  Elton John.”

“What?  No way!  He’s not coming here.”

“He’s coming to Biloxi.  We could go over there – especially if we’re in the front row.  Anyway, the radio station is giving tickets away at the Carpet Outlet.  We’re almost there – no thanks to you.”  I didn’t understand why this excited Olivia so much.  She didn’t even like Elton John.

We made it to the Carpet Outlet with time to spare.  There was a huge crowd, but we managed to find a parking spot.  Olivia pulled out our ticket stubs and prepared to win.  I wasn’t quite so optimistic– my luck never ran smoothly.

Finally, a man approached the microphone with a ticket in his hand.  “I have the winning ticket right here.  This is for the upcoming Elton John concert in Biloxi.  The winner and three of his or her friends will ride to Biloxi in a stretch limo, dine at the four-star rated Blue Beard’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant, be seated on the front row during the concert, and go backstage to meet the incomparable Elton.  And the winner is...Harvey Daniels who lives on Florida Street.  Congratulations Harvey!  And thanks to everyone else who entered...”

Olivia turned to face me; disappointment was all over her face.  “I’m sorry, Kat.  I wanted to win those tickets for you.  I know how much you love Elton.”

Olivia’s thoughtfulness touched me.  “Thanks, Olivia.  That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever tried to do for me.  You’re a good friend.”

Olivia dropped me off next to my car.  I watched her drive away as I sat on my hood trying to think.  There was a time in my life when I only had two dreams.  One was a life with Max.  The other one was really an alternative dream, in case I couldn’t get Max.  That dream was about Elton John.  Twenty some years later, I knew I could never tempt Elton, and my chances were almost just as meager with Max.  The only difference – and it was a difference that worked in my favor – was that Max did like women.  But in the real world, I had about as much chance with Max as I did converting Elton to heterosexuality.

I got into my car and headed towards Mom’s house.  She still lived in the old neighborhood, and I knew I would drive by Max’s old house before going home.  Daddy had been dead for twelve years now, but it was still hard to go home without missing him.  Mom was out in her garden with her straw hat on, and she looked just the same as always – just like when I was a child.  I tooted the car horn, and Mom looked up and started waving.  She was to the fence gate before I could get out of the car.

“Katrina!  You surprised me.  I didn’t know you were coming by today.  I’ve been planting some cabbage, and my potatoes are already up.  We’ll be having fresh vegetables before you know it.”

We sat out under her oak tree, and I listened to her talk about her garden and her sewing circle.  Mom stayed active, and she was in good health because of it.  She spoke of my brother, Carl, and Bridgett.  My Aunt Jane who recently had a massive heart attack was doing well after her bypass surgery.  Her husband, Uncle Dean, had quit smoking after forty-five years.  My Uncle J. D. was at odds with his daughter Sandra.  Uncle J. D. was always at odds with someone.  My Aunt Sue was still living in Washington, although she planned to move back home when she retired.

When she caught me up on all the relatives, Mom started singing that old familiar tune.

“When are you going to settle down, Kat?  Rick and his family are all settled and doing well.  You need to find a good man and have a bunch of kids.  Then I wouldn’t have to worry about either of my children.”

“Mom, do we have to go down this road every time I come over?  I want to meet someone – really I do.  I can’t promise you any grandkids though.  You have Bridgett, Carl, and Betsy.  And now there’s Ginger, Richard, and Brucie.  I know you love those kids.  And they live so close you must see them all the time.”

“I do,” she sighed, “But what I really want is for you to be happy.  I just associate happiness with a family.  My children were my only source of happiness.  If you don’t want children, at least meet a nice man.  For a while, you were fairly happy with Ben.  I want that for you again.”

“I don’t know if I can make you understand, but I want more than what I had with Ben.  I know you and Daddy weren’t the perfect couple, and I guess you think there is no such thing.  But I believe in true love.  I believe that there is someone in this world that is just for me.  Until we find each other, I’m not settling for less.”

Mom looked displeased.  “I suppose you think that Max Whatshisname is your one true love?  If he is, why aren’t the two of you together?  Love and happiness take two, Kat.  You need to get your head out of the clouds and stop dreaming.  Max chose to marry someone else.  He doesn’t care two bits about you.  He never did.”

For some reason, my mother’s words ripped into me like a rusty blade.  She pierced my heart and shattered my being.  Standing in front of her, I felt naked and scarred.  She had no right to wound me that way.  This was my life to live in whatever fashion I chose.  I turned to retaliate, but I stopped.  She was a tired old woman, and she thought she was helping me.  Still, I couldn’t bare her company for one minute more.  I had to get away from her.

Making a few sorry excuses, I headed for my car.  Mom followed me.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promised her.

“I didn’t mean to interfere in your life, Kat.  I just wish you would give this some thought.  Dreams are just that – nothing more.  Remember how you used to dream of being a writer?  But your father convinced you that you’d never make a living doing that.  He was right.  And then later you got it into your head that you could take a programming job in a foreign country, but I finally persuaded you how dangerous that could be.  It’s a parent’s job to guide their children.  Get married, have a family, and keep your secure respectable job.  Chasing dreams is for little children, not grown women.  You don’t have to be different to enjoy life.  Ordinary isn’t so bad – that’s what most of us are.  That’s what I am, and it’s what you are, Kat,” she smiled as though she thought I would be happy to hear that I was ordinary.  Then she added, “Remember, I love you.  Call me later.”

Mom walked back towards her garden.  She walked slightly stooped, and she suddenly looked every one of her sixty-eight years.  I felt sorry for her.  She had lived her life without any dreams.  Daddy had been a drunk and an adulterer, and Mom had thought she had to settle for that kind of life.  She would never understand my penchant for risk-taking, my romantic view of life, or my need to always reach for my dreams.  She deserved my pity.

On my way home, I drove past our old house on Heritage Street – Mom now lived several blocks away.  The new owners had remodeled it, and it looked nothing like my old home.  Farther down the road, I passed Max’s old house.  His dad still lived there, and he was outside watering the lawn.  He glanced up as I passed, but he had no idea of who I was.

My eyes were stinging from tears when I pulled into my parking lot.  I parked in my usual spot and went to my apartment.  Inside, I checked my answering machine.  There was one message.  I pressed the play button.

“Hey, Kat, it’s Olivia.  You know I hate talking to this machine!  Call me!  Bye.”

I dialed Olivia’s number.  “Hey, Olivia!  What’s up?”

“Hi.  I wanted to apologize for this morning.  I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

“No apology necessary.  So, did you see Lee?”

“No.  Look, I was thinking we might be able to buy some tickets to that concert.  I’ve been up and down Florida Street trying to find old Harvey Daniels.  How much are you willing to pay for a backstage pass?”

“He’ll never part with any of those.  But if he’s willing, I’ll buy two – one for me and one for you.  Call me if he’s willing and we’ll negotiate a price.  It is for Elton, so who knows how much I’ll pay?”  I knew she wouldn’t get him to sell, but I allowed myself to dream for a moment.

“Gotcha.  But I’ll pay my own way.  Talk to you later.”

Only Olivia could cheer me up after that visit with my mom.  Now she had me imagining how it would be to meet Elton John.  She had always been a great best friend, but we had our moments in high school.  Sometimes, it was amazing that Olivia had put up with me.  I started remembering some of the times that I had tried our friendship...

Chapter 12

My summer vacation was somewhat boring.  I spent several hours a day on the phone with Olivia.  Occasionally, I would walk over to Aurelia’s house, but her mom kept her busy working all summer.  I was soon looking forward to school.

The school day started on one of the hottest days of the year.  We couldn’t wear shorts to school, and most of our classrooms did not have air conditioning.  I tried to decide between my favorite pair of Levi’s and a sundress my mom had bought me during the summer.  I had slimmed down a little bit, but I still felt fat whenever I wore a dress.  Still, I knew how hot I’d be if I wore my tight jeans.  What would it be?  Fat or hot?  I decided to wear the jeans.

We had a new bus driver that year, Mrs. Hassock.  She was much younger than Mrs. Decker, but she was only slightly stricter.  In the coming weeks, we would win her over, and she would be a pushover.

I still caught the bus at Aurelia’s stop.  Stella and her brothers were there, along with a number of new freshmen.  One of them – Steve Dour – looked like a miniature Johnny, complete with a silk shirt and a dark tan.  He was cute, but I remembered what a jerk Johnny had been.  Steve might be the same.

When the bus reached the last stop, it surprised me to see Travis get on board.  He made his way towards my seat, but he sat down across from me.  I hadn’t really seen Travis much since the day he took Birdie for a ride on his bike.  He looked more sullen and reserved than before.  This new brooding darkness gave him a mysterious appearance.  I found it difficult to take my eyes off him, but he barely seemed to notice me.  Mrs. Hassock dropped him off at Brown, but I was still thinking of him when we reached WMHS.

I hadn’t missed Max so far, but then he hadn’t ridden the bus for quite some time.  The few minutes before school and lunch would be the real test.  Those were the times I always saw him last year.

The bell rang for homeroom.  Mine was upstairs, and my teacher was Mrs. Royal.  Mrs. Royal was a short dumpy old lady.  She wore pearl encrusted horn-rim glasses held around her neck by a black elastic cord.  Most of the time, the glasses rested on Mrs. Royal’s ample bosom, but when she put them on her face, she looked as if she was trying to impersonate some movie star from the sixties – Raquel Welch or Ann-Margaret perhaps.

Journalism was my first period class.  Miss Jezebel – a middle aged brunette – was our teacher.  Miss Jezebel wore a mid-calf narrow skirt, a long-sleeved tailored blouse, and little black half glasses that she balanced perfectly on the end of her nose.  Her hair was worn up in a neat French-twist.  Think of Miss Hathaway from the Beverly Hillbillies or Helen from The Andy Griffith Show.  The irony was that she behaved prim and proper while her name suggested something quite different.

Miss Jezebel taught us the basics of newspaper reporting.  In her class, there was no room for opinions.  It only took a few weeks of journalism to convince me that I preferred fictional writing to that of a reporter, but I was in the class for the year, so I made the best of it.

Mrs. Nolan taught second period English.  Mrs. Nolan was close to sixty with salt-and-pepper hair, but she was in touch with our “younger generation.”  She often wore wide-brimmed hats, and she wore her black rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose.  The hats, glasses, and her old-fashioned big-collared dresses, along with her mile-wide smile, reminded me of photos I had seen of Bella Abzug, the famous politician.

I would grow to love Mrs. Nolan who took my writing to new levels.  She challenged me to write poetry – something I had never cared to do before – and I found that I enjoyed it.  She soon became my personal critic, and I would share all of my writing with her – except maybe my personal notes to my friends.  I valued her opinion, and I took her advice to heart.  She would one day stand out as my favorite teacher of all time.

American History filled third period, and our teacher was Mrs. Hart.  She was a petite woman with blond hair that seemed to form wings on the sides of her head.  She was outspoken and rigid, and she demanded that everyone participate in class – something I was never able to do.  I was always afraid I would make a fool of myself, and Mrs. Hart always proved me right.

First, second, and third period all had one thing in common that I liked.  My friend Laura was in those classes with me.  We hadn’t exactly lost touch during the tenth grade, but it was good to have her back in some of my classes again.

Fourth period consisted of Algebra II and second lunch.  My teacher for Algebra II was Mrs. Patrone, an exotic Asian woman who seemed much too young to be teaching.  She was a worse math teacher than Mr. Parish had been.  A typical day in her class consisted of handing in homework, seeing one problem solved on the board – usually by one of my fellow students – and getting the next day’s homework assignment.  Mrs. Patrone spent the remainder of class helping students on an individual basis.  I never seemed to get my turn before the bell rang, and I foundered in her class.

Neither Olivia nor Aurelia had lunch with me, but Laura and Felicia did.  This was the time I missed Max most.  I would often catch myself watching for him to come down the breezeway.

During lunch, Felicia introduced me to a few of her other friends, including her new boyfriend Wesley.  Wes was cute – he had the most beautiful green eyes, ruddy hair, and a sweet baby face.  He was over six feet tall, and he was on the school basketball team.  He was always extremely sweet, and he and I enjoyed joking around with each other.  Sometimes, I wondered if Felicia was jealous, but if she was, she never let it show.  I was happy that Felicia’s new interest in Wes had meant the end of her and Joe’s affair.

Felicia’s other friend was called Coquette.  I wasn’t impressed with Coquette from the beginning.  Her face was in a permanent scowl, and her blond hair was too thick and too curly.  She had small blue eyes and a fat, flattened nose.  In the two years I knew her, she never smiled.  She was also without a personality.  Her voice was monotone, and she was forever complaining and moaning about something.  I couldn’t understand Felicia’s interest in Coquette, but since Felicia liked her, I put up with Coquette and treated her as a friend.

Physics – my fifth period class – was Mr. Singer’s specialty.  He was a tiny man with even tinier eyes.  He wore thick glasses, and he walked hunched over.  He was very old – he’d fought in World War II – but his hair was thick and black.  He was a likable old man, but he thought Physics was not a woman’s field.  Girls – obviously misguided by overzealous feminists – automatically passed his class with a “C,” whether they earned it or not.

Sixth period was just down the hall from Physics class.  Accounting had Mrs. Berry as the teacher.  Mrs. Berry was the only typical looking teacher I had that year.  She was tall and thin with dark brown permed hair.  She had a kind face and a sweet disposition.  The downfall to accounting?  No boys.  Otherwise, I really enjoyed the class.

When I climbed on the bus that afternoon, I saw Travis sitting in the third seat.  I deliberately sat down beside him.  “Hi, Travis.”

He slowly turned his gaze on me.  “Hey.”  He seemed listless and indifferent.

I looked into his eyes, searching for some sign of life; I didn’t see any.  “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Yeah,” he said.

My attempt to have a conversation was failing miserably.  “Where have you been?”

His look was almost contemptuous.  “Like you care.”  He turned away and peered out the window.

“Sorry,” I said.  I didn’t say anymore.  It was clear he didn’t want to talk to me.

At our first Bons Copains meeting in January, we decided to have another membership drive.  Being part of the membership committee, I was tasked with coming up with some activities for the candidates to perform during our “rush”.  I was coming up blank, so I asked everyone else for suggestions.  They came up with some lame ducks, but I took the best ones and ran with them.

The first week was about clothes.  Candidates were to wear our school colors on Monday.  On Tuesday, they were to wear their clothes inside-out.  Wednesday would be “Dress like the Fifties Day.”  On Thursday night, we would meet at Pete McDermott’s house, and the candidates had to wear our club colors.  On Friday they were supposed to wear their pajamas.

The second week was going to familiarize the candidates with our members – and ultimately try their patience.  Each candidate would have a one pound bag of flour to take care of for the entire week, and they were to get as many club members as possible to sign the bag.  They also had to carry the bag with them at all times and avoid busting it.  I don’t know what we thought we’d accomplish with this ordeal, but we thought this was a great idea.  We thought it would be entertaining to watch the prospects carrying the bag around all week and trying not to drop it.  At the end of the week, the hopefuls would meet with the membership committee after school in Mrs. Kalakos’ room.

I persuaded Olivia to apply as a member.  We weren’t seeing much of each other at school, so I thought this would be a good way to spend time together.  Amazingly, Olivia agreed.

The first week went well.  One-hundred percent of the applicants dressed according to the rules and showed up at Pete’s house on Thursday.  We passed out the flour to the fifteen candidates and told them the rules.  After we had covered everything, Olivia raised her hand.

“What if we bust the bag?  Does that mean we won’t get in?”

Well, maybe we didn’t cover everything.  I quickly made up a new rule.  “Not necessarily.”  Hopefully, that would appease Olivia and the other applicants.

“What’s the point then?  If I can get in without carrying around this stupid bag of flour, then I’m not carrying around this stupid bag of flour.”

Olivia was beginning to get on my nerves.  “I didn’t say you could or couldn’t get in.  It depends.”  I had to think fast.  “You get points for everything you do – including how many signatures you get.  If the bag breaks, you’ll lose points.  Just like if you don’t wear pajamas tomorrow.”

Rita Daltery – now the club president – came to my rescue.  “We’ve given you the rules.  If you don’t follow them, you won’t get as many points.  Total points will determine who gets in and who doesn’t.”  Olivia sat down and looked a little annoyed, but she kept quiet.  “By the way,” Rita added, “you might want to get members to sign a sheet of paper, too – just in case your bag gets busted.  Then you’ll still have a record of everyone you talked to.”  Rita was fairly good at making up rules as she went along.

A week later, Olivia had every member’s signature on her bag.  I was very proud of her.

That Friday, we met in Mrs. Kalakos’ room.  Olivia wasn’t there.  Three candidates had dropped out of the qualifying; another five had dropped their bags.  Of the remaining six applicants, none had more than seven signatures on their bag.  Still, we accepted the eleven that were present into the club.

Just before the meeting ended, Olivia came bolting into the room.  She rushed up to Mrs. Kalakos’ desk with a huge bag of flour and it suddenly flew out of her hand.  The bag seemed to move in slow motion as it sailed over the desk and hit on the edge of Mrs. Kalakos’ chair.  Flour flew everywhere and soon Mrs. Kalakos' desk and chair were covered in it.  So was the floor and Olivia.  Olivia began sobbing.

I rushed up to the desk.  “Olivia, what happened?”

“I had all of those signatures, remember?” she sobbed.  I nodded and she continued, “I was so happy, but, this morning, I dropped my flour on the way to the bus stop.  I ran home and got the five pound bag of flour my mom bought at the store a few days ago.  I was late because I was trying to put all of the signatures on the new bag so no one would know I busted the other one.  Now look what happened.”

“So you didn’t think anyone would notice that your bag had grown by four pounds during the week?” I asked.

“I thought maybe everyone would believe that it got bigger and heavier as I got the signatures.  Dang it, Kat, I didn’t really think about that,” Olivia moaned.

Everyone started laughing at Olivia’s story, and I told her that she could still be in the club.  She seemed genuinely happy.  I know I was.

As the days slowly passed, I began hanging around Felicia and Laura more and more.  I often left Olivia and Aurelia so I could be with them.  Felicia and Laura seemed cooler than Olivia, and I wanted to be popular.  When Felicia and Laura talked about other people, I joined right in – thinking they would accept me.  Laura and Felicia soon started making fun of Olivia.  I wouldn’t join in, but I didn’t tell them to stop either.  Whenever I hung around Olivia, I felt guilty for not defending her.  My solution was to hang around her less.

Olivia never gave up on me.  She continued to be my friend even when she knew what Felicia and Laura were saying about her.  Olivia never did anything to hurt me, and she never tried to make me stop being friends with Laura or Felicia.  She did warn me several times that Laura and especially Felicia were just using me and that they weren’t really my friends at all.

I did notice that when Felicia was around, Laura tried to impress her, and she didn’t mind humiliating me to do it.  But when Felicia wasn’t there, Laura was the way she’d been in middle school.  I was clearly Laura’s best friend when Felicia wasn’t present, but, when Felicia showed up, she was suddenly Laura’s best friend – and I was just a peon, an underling, a nobody.  Nevertheless, I stuck with them and allowed my friendship with Olivia to become secondary.

In October, I momentarily resurrected my friendship with Olivia.  She got her driver’s license, and she began driving us to our Bons Copains meetings.  We also started hanging out on the weekends, and this is the time we started driving past Pete’s house.  Olivia would bring either her John Denver tape or her Statler Brothers tape, and I was soon singing along to all the songs.

I was anxiously awaiting my sixteenth birthday for two reasons: I’d be able to drive and date.  My car – a bright green Barracuda – was already waiting for me.  My parents had bought it from my brother Rick just for me.  None of my other friends had their own car, so I felt very lucky.  The date – a sailor named Greg that my mom met at the beauty shop – was also waiting for me.  He kept begging my mom to let him take me out before I turned sixteen because he was going to transfer just before Christmas.  She relented two weeks before my birthday.

I hadn’t met Greg, but my mom told me that he was cute and nice.  I soon learned that my mom didn’t know everything.  We were going to go out on Friday night.  I put on an attractive outfit and waited with growing anticipation.  He was late.  I waited two hours, and he never showed up.  I didn’t know whether to be devastated or humiliated.  I put on my nightgown and stared out the window.  The ringing phone startled me.  It was Greg.  He had drawn duty for the night, but would I mind if he came over the next day?  He was so sweet and apologetic that I agreed.

The next day, a dark blue Toyota truck pulled into our driveway.  Greg wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but I reserved judgment on him.  I had imagined a thin, handsome man – maybe something like my dad – since my mother had picked him out for me.  Greg was tall – almost six feet – and he was chubbier than I imagined most Navy men to be.  He had a round chubby baby face and baby blue eyes.  He parted his brown hair on the left side and it was very short.  He was nineteen years old, and he’d only been in the Navy for six months.  He was wearing blue jeans and a navy-blue jersey with gold writing – very similar to my Bons Copains jersey.

I glanced at my fancy pantsuit and panicked.  My mom agreed to keep him company until I changed into something more casual.  I came out in my club jersey and blue jeans; we matched perfectly.

Greg and I saw each other almost every day until he transferred to Orlando, Florida.  He took me out on my sixteenth birthday, and I had so much fun.  Laura was dating a guy name Billy, and the four of us would go out together.  We had some really good times together, but Max was always in the back of my mind.  I would even have Greg drive me by Max’s whenever we went out.  Greg didn’t know, of course.  He just didn’t know my neighborhood well enough to get out without my direction.  I was always hoping that Max would see us together and get jealous, but it never happened.

Greg left in Mid-December.  He took my address, but I knew he’d never write to me.  I was just someone to fill time with – and he was the same to me.  Going out with Greg was better than not going out.

The day after Greg left was our Bons Copains Christmas party at Mrs. Kalakos’ house.  My mom let me drive, and Olivia rode with me.  I also invited Donna and her sister Colleen, and they rode with us, too.  We arrived a little early, and Dmitri asked us to go over to the mall and pick up some Ping-Pong balls.  I hesitated because I had heard that Max was going to be at the party, and I didn’t want to miss him.  I hadn’t seen him in months.  When I realized that it would only take a few minutes, I gave in, and Olivia, Donna, Colleen, and I left for the mall.

We quickly found a sporting goods store and bought two packs of Ping-Pong balls.  As we headed back to the parking lot, Colleen and Olivia spotted Santa Claus.

“Let’s go see Santa!” Olivia said.

“Yeah!  Come on!”  This was Colleen.  Colleen was outgoing like Olivia.  She was always joking around and making me laugh.  Her personality and Donna’s were very similar, but they didn’t look like sisters at all.  Of course, both girls had been adopted by the Daleys, so their differing looks were understandable.  Colleen fit in well with her Irish Catholic family: long red hair, emerald green eyes, and pale freckly skin.  She was also tall and thin, a vast contrast to Donna’s chubby little body.

“Olivia!  Please, you know I want to get back to the party.  I can’t miss Max.”  I also didn’t want them to embarrass me by being the only teenagers to visit Santa.

“Colleen!  Must you always embarrass me?”  At least Donna was on my side.

Olivia and Colleen listened to our objections, and then they ran over to Santa anyway.  I watched in horror as they took turns sitting on his lap.  Donna’s dismay was equally visible.  After a few minutes, we started walking for the car.  We were not going to associate with those two nincompoops.

Olivia and Colleen showed up at the car just as I was deciding to leave them.  Donna and I refused to speak to either of them.  Colleen insisted on talking.

“We were only having fun.  Isn’t that what tonight is all about?  Life is too short to live like squares.  Lighten up...Have fun!”

Donna and I decided that maybe Colleen was right.  We had only wasted ten minutes.  No one had laughed and pointed at us.  It wasn’t the end of the world.

Back at Mrs. Kalakos’ house, there was no sign of Max.  I sighed with relief.

As I headed towards the game room with the Ping-Pong balls, I noticed that quite a few guests were there.  Sunny, Rita, and several new members were sitting in the living room, while Pete McDermott and Kenny Byron stood in the kitchen eating.  Kenny was a snob who thought he was God’s gift to women.  Most girls thought he was gorgeous – sandy brown hair in a tight perm, big blue eyes, a pleasant face, and a perfect body.  I suppose he was cute enough, but I couldn’t stand him.  Once you ripped off the pretty paper, you would want to return the gift right away.  He was rude and obnoxious to almost everyone.  He had no desire to learn – football would get him where he wanted to go.  I had learned all I needed to know about Kenny in Physics class where he spent most of his time sleeping.  Pete and Kenny were best friends, so I found myself being leery of Pete, too.

Michael Barr was in the game room, and he was happy to see the Ping-Pong balls.  I watched him play a game with Dmitri, and then Pete came in to challenge Mike.  They struck up a conversation, and I eavesdropped.  After a little small talk, they moved on to something of interest.

“How long have you been here, Pete?” Mike asked.

“Twenty minutes maybe,” Pete answered.

“I guess you saw Max Savage then,” Mike said.

“Yeah.  He was with Matt Bruin...All right!  My point!”  Pete went on to win the game, and there was no more talk of Max.

After the game was over, I pulled Mike to the side.  “Did you say Max was already here?  Where is he now?”

“Oh, he only stayed about five minutes.  He and Matt were going somewhere else.  He did ask about you though.”

“He did not!”  I wanted to believe, but I couldn’t.

“Dmitri told him that you went to buy Ping-Pong balls and that you’d be right back.  Then Sunny told him that your boyfriend was also coming to the party.  Max left right after that.”  Mike seemed sincere, and he didn’t really know that I loved Max.

“Boyfriend?  I don’t have a boyfriend.  Why did she tell him that?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

I stormed out of the game room and headed straight for Sunny.  Just as I reached her, she looked up and smiled.  “Is your boyfriend here?  I really want to meet him.”

Her innocent look stalled me out.  All I could manage was, “Huh?”

“Your boyfriend, Greg.  Where is he?”  I wondered how she knew about Greg.  I hadn’t really bragged about him or anything.

“Greg isn’t my boyfriend.  I dated him for a while, but he’s moved to Orlando now.  I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s too bad.  Oh, by the way, did you know Max was here earlier?  He asked about you.”

I urgently had to get away from Sunny.  She hadn’t meant to, but she had ruined my night – my life even.  I ran outside into the cool night air.  Mike was standing in the driveway with a beer.  “Where can I get one of those?” I asked.

Mike opened a cooler and took out a bottle.  “Oh, yeah.  I almost forgot that you’re the beer guzzling queen.  Here.  There’s plenty more where that came from.”

I drank two beers while Mike and I talked.  As the beer and the conversation began to run out, we both went back inside.  Colleen and Olivia were sitting in the kitchen.  Olivia was admiring Pete, and Kenny was flexing his pecs for Colleen.  Donna was in the living room acting demure as Dmitri sat very close beside her.  I wondered where Mrs. Kalakos was because Dmitri was behaving like a smitten schoolboy.  Donna had that way with men.  None of my friends seemed to be missing me, so I followed Mike upstairs.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I left my coat up here, and I’m getting cold.”

We walked into the master bedroom.  Coats covered the bed.  Mike described his leather jacket to me, and we began looking for it.  We both grabbed hold of it at the same time and began laughing as we tugged it back and forth between us.  Mike gave the coat a powerful tug, and I lost my footing.  I tumbled across the bed until I landed at Mike’s feet.  He took my hand and pulled me up.  Our eyes met and he pulled me close to him.  We began kissing.  I had very little experience with kissing, but I knew this was a great one.  I lost track of time and space as we found our way to the bed.  My head was spinning, but I wasn’t sure if it was the kiss or the beer.  Just then, we heard someone clear their throat.

“I think you two better get downstairs.”  It was Mrs. Kalakos.  We quickly got up and rushed past her.  My cheeks were burning, and Mike was red all over.  She said something else about behaving ourselves, but we were moving too fast to fully understand her.

As we trotted down the stairs together, Mike whispered, “Maybe you can give me a ride home tonight.  I would really like to spend some time with you.”  I was unable to speak, and I needed another beer.  Mike’s idea sounded good; I just didn’t know if my friends would go for it.

Back outside, I inhaled three more beers, and I saw Mike drinking more, too.  He was looking better and better to me.  He wasn’t Max, but he was somewhat cute.  And with all that beer in me, all I could think about was that I desperately wanted a boyfriend.  I decided that I would take him home whether my friends wanted me to or not.

Olivia came outside.  “Dmitri’s playing an Elton John album on his stereo.  Why don’t you come in?”

I was afraid to come across Mrs. Kalakos again, but I needed to sit down.  Hearing Elton would also help my spirits.  “Okay,” I told her.

The album was Elton’s Greatest Hits.  While listening to it, I started aching for Max all over again.  Finally I turned to Donna.  “Let’s go.  Do you think Colleen will drive?”

Colleen heard me.  “I can’t drive a stick shift.  You’ll have to do it.”

I thought about Mike.  I wanted to sit in the back with him.  “I’ll talk you through it.  I’m too drunk to drive.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Colleen said, shrugging her shoulders.

“We’re going to take Mike Barr home.  Let me go get him.”

I rushed outside to find Mike.  He was talking to Rita.  As I approached them, I heard him say to her, “Will you give me a ride home?  I’d like to spend some time with you.”

I was too drunk to be hurt by what I heard, but I still felt my eyes welling up with tears.  I was sober enough to realize that Mike was either a jerk or very drunk – maybe both.  I turned around and went back inside.  He could find his way home without me.

“Where’s Mike?” Olivia asked.

“He’s riding with someone else.  Let’s go.”

Colleen started the car easily.  I knew she was going to do a good job.  “Shift into first.  Okay, slowly take your foot off the clutch...”  The car jerked, sputtered, and died.  “I said slowly!  Also, you have to give it gas at the same time.”

Colleen started the car again.  She jerked her foot off the clutch and gunned the gas.  The tires squealed, and we roared onto the street.  “Shift gears!” I yelled.

“How?” she yelled back.

“Put in the clutch; pull the gear shift down.  Then let out the clutch and give it more gas.  Oh – and remember to watch where you’re going.”

Colleen did as I said, and we jerked and bucked and squealed our way down the street.  After two or three miles, I said, “Let me drive.”  Colleen gladly stopped the car – by stomping the brake and pulling the clutch out at the same time – and I moved to the driver’s seat.

“It’s too early to go home,” Olivia said as we smoothly glided back into traffic.

“Let’s just ride around awhile,” Donna suggested.

We drove to a more rural part of town, and I turned onto Harmony Highway – a two lane road with mostly residential lots.  The speed limit was thirty-five, and I was keeping to it.  Suddenly, a car pulled up in the lane next to us; fortunately, there was no oncoming traffic.  I looked to see who was driving.  Teenage boys filled the car, and they were yelling and motioning for me to pull over.  Instead, I slowed down and watched them drive away from us.

Up ahead was a convenience store, and I needed to pee.  I pulled into the store’s parking lot and then ran inside.  Olivia and Colleen went inside for munchies, but Donna stayed in the car.  While the rest of us were inside, the car full of boys pulled in beside my car.  When I came out, four boys were encircling my car.  One of them was trying to get Donna to get out, but she was acting uncharacteristically skittish and bashful.  Olivia and Colleen came out, and the three of us pushed our way into the car.  We drove off and left the raging hormones in the parking lot.

It was then that Donna noticed that Olivia had a pack of toilet paper.  “Gosh, Olivia!  Are you afraid we won’t make it to the next 7-11?”

It was Colleen who answered.  “We thought we might TP a house or two tonight.”  Here we go with their brand of humor again.

“Whose house?”  Donna asked.

“We haven’t decided yet,” Olivia said matter-of-factly.

“Show us Max’s house, Kat,” Colleen said.

“I don’t think so.  You are not rolling Max’s house.”

“No – you got it all wrong.  We wouldn’t dream of rolling Max’s house.  We would never hear the end of it.”  Colleen smirked.

“Just like we never hear the end of Max,” Olivia added.

I was curious to see if Max was home, so we drove to my neighborhood.  Max’s car wasn’t there.  “Want to see where Johnny lives?” I asked.

Olivia and Colleen both piped up.  “Sure!  That would be great!”

I drove the five blocks to Johnny’s house.  I knew where he lived because of Dominique.

“Pull over for a minute,” Colleen yelled.  “I need to pee right now.”

“You can’t pee here,” I said, but I stopped the car at the house next to Johnny’s.

Colleen and Olivia jumped out with their rolls of toilet paper.  “Come on, you guys.  Let’s roll Johnny’s house.”

“No, sir,” said Donna.

“I’m out of this,” I said.  “I don’t care if Johnny is a jerk – I’m not getting caught rolling his house.”  Yes, I was chicken.

“You guys sure know how to kill a party,” Olivia said dejectedly.  A wave of relief washed over me as I decided they were giving up.

“We’ll let you know how much fun you missed!” Colleen shouted.  Then she and Olivia ran off towards Johnny’s house.

“I don’t know about you, Donna, but I don’t want to be sitting here while they do this.”

“Me either.  Let’s circle the block or something.”

I pulled onto the street.  I could see Olivia and Colleen in my rearview mirror.  They seemed to be having fun.  I sped away.  After driving around for ten minutes, I circled back by Johnny’s house.  Toilet paper hung from every conceivable inch of house and yard.  We couldn’t see Colleen and Olivia anywhere.  I drove by and stopped at the end of the road.  I heard something run into my car.  It was Colleen – she had thrown herself against the passenger side of the car and almost scared Donna to death.  She and Olivia jumped in, and I drove away from that street as fast as I could.

“Did you see that?” Olivia asked.

“We did a fabulous job,” Colleen said.  “Too bad we don’t have a camera.  Let’s go back and look one more time.”

“No way!  I’m taking everyone home.  We could get into trouble over this.  Especially me – I’m driving the getaway car.”

“You are such a sourpuss, Kat.  We can’t have any fun with you around.”  Colleen was moping; she wished we could toilet paper every house on the block.

“You’re right, Colleen.  Kat is a goody-goody.  And she’s probably proud of it.”  Olivia must have forgotten all the beer I drank.  That disqualified me from being a true goody-goody.

I dropped Olivia off first.  In spite of my spoilsport attitude, she said that she had fun.  Donna and Colleen thanked me for inviting them when I took them home.  Colleen halfway apologized for her behavior but only because Donna made her.  I watched until they went inside and then I drove home.  I was completely sober by now, but I wondered how I had gotten us all home safely.

After Christmas vacation, my life really changed.  I was driving my car to school every day.   Laura and one other person always rode with me.  Wayne or Roger rode with us most often, but Aurelia and Dominique rode occasionally.  In the afternoons, Laura and Wayne always rode home with me.  I’d drop Laura off first, and then I’d take Wayne home.  I soon came to know Wayne’s family very well and spent a lot of time with them.

Felicia’s birthday was at the end of January, and she was turning seventeen.  Laura and I had planned to take her somewhere and celebrate, but, at the last minute, Laura was put on restriction for staying out with Billy too late the night before.  So Felicia and I were on our own.  We decided to drive over to Pensacola and cruise the Navy base to check out the sailors.  Because my dad was a disabled veteran, I had access to the base through a Navy decal on my car and a Navy ID card.  We drove onto the base, but the pickings were slim.  The only action we saw involved a sailor with a balloon.  He was walking on the sidewalk near the Navy Exchange.  Felicia told me to stop.  When I did, she told him that it was her birthday, and she asked him for his balloon.  He looked at her like she was nuts, but then he handed her the balloon.  She thanked him.  She was hoping he would talk to her some more since she thought he was rather cute.  Instead, he continued walking down the path as though nothing had happened.  Felicia’s balloon popped before we made it out the front gate.

As we were leaving the base to head back to Foster’s Bank, we saw two guys hitchhiking.  I knew they were sailors from their short hair and duffle bags, so I asked Felicia if we should give them a ride.  She hesitated, but, in a moment, she said it was okay.  I pulled off the road just past them, and they came running up to my car.  As Felicia got out and let them in, I took a good look at them.  Both of them were tall and thin.  The first one leaned into the car.  He had dark red hair and a matching beard; on his head was a brown beret.  His eyes were wide and dilated, so I couldn’t tell the color.  He wasn’t handsome, but he looked okay.  He was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a jean jacket.  In his hand was a blue duffle bag.  He smiled at me as he sat down.  The second guy scooted into the seat.  His good looks immediately mesmerized me.  He had strawberry blond hair, a mustache, and a goatee.  His sky-blue eyes were hypnotic, and his smile was friendly and warm.  I could see the rippling muscles under his button-up shirt, and I suddenly forgot that I preferred short, scrawny men.  He spoke to me, and I became completely bewitched by him.

Felicia got back in the car.  I couldn’t readily decipher the look on her face, but outrage would have been my first guess.  I whispered to her and asked if she was okay.  She just glared at me and rolled her eyes towards the backseat.  Apparently, she wasn’t happy with our passengers.

The good-looking guy said, “Thanks, Ladies.  We appreciate the lift.  My name is Josh, and this is my friend, Ray.”  He had a distinct accent, but I couldn’t place it.

Before I could speak, Felicia turned around, “We’re giving you a ride, not meeting you at a dance.  We don’t need to know your names.”

I couldn’t believe Felicia and her attitude.  Quickly, I tried to intercede.  “Ha-ha.  That’s good Felicia.  Felicia’s always joking around.  I’m Kat.  It’s good to meet you.”

Felicia shot me an evil look.  “Thank you, Kat, for telling my name.”  Then she looked back at Ray, “Where are we dropping you anyway?  Not far, I hope.  I’ve got to get home soon.”

Ray ignored Felicia’s rude behavior.  “Do you know where that place called The Barrels is, man?  Just drop us off there.  You know what I mean, man?”

Felicia glanced in my direction.  That bar was only a few blocks from where we were, and we both knew it was no longer in business.  I could read her mind, “What will we do with them now?”

I glanced back at Josh.  He was so cute.  “Okay, we’ll take you there,” I said.  I figured we’d decide what to do with them when we got there.

I pulled the car up, and watched for an opening in the string of cars shooting by us.  The Navy base was letting out for the day and traffic was horrendous.  I finally saw my opening.  I sent the gas pedal to the floor and shot out onto the highway.

“They must call you Mario Andretti,” Josh said.  I chuckled, but Felicia just rolled her eyes.  She saw me falling under his spell.

The Barrels bar was only about a mile away, so we were soon pulling into the parking lot.  Felicia could stand it no more.  “They closed that place down over a month ago.”

“Damn, man,” Ray said.  “I mean, what are we gonna do now, man?”

“I guess we’ll just get out anyway.  We can’t hold these young ladies up any longer.  Felicia has to get home.”  That was Josh.  Dang he was polite!  I couldn’t let him just slip out of my hands.  For the first time in three years, Max was not the first thought on my mind.

“I’ll take you someplace else – after I drop Felicia off.”

Felicia was not happy, but Ray was.  “Yeah, man.  You can drop us off at my friend’s house, man.  You know what I mean, man?”

It was a long drive to Felicia’s house, and she gave me the cold shoulder all the way.  I stopped in her drive, and she said, “Kat, could you help me with my school books?”

I knew she was up to something.  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Josh.  I took some of Felicia’s books and got out of the car.  Felicia was already on her porch.

“I can’t believe you didn’t make them get out before.  They’ve obviously been smoking pot – I can smell it all over them.  Aren’t you afraid to drive around with them by yourself?”

“I didn’t really think about it.  They seem nice – at least Josh does.  I’m sure their friend lives nearby.  I’ll be getting rid of them soon.”

Felicia shrugged as she realized how hopeless her protests were.  “Be careful,” she said, “and call me when you are safe at home.”

Back in the car, Josh had moved to the front seat, and Ray was sitting in the middle of the backseat.  “Where does your friend live?” I asked Josh as I got back in.

“He’s Ray’s friend, not mine.  Where to, Ray?”

Ray described a place that I knew rather well.  When I was younger, I had lived in that neighborhood for four years.  Donna and her family had only recently moved from there.  The area was about five miles away from Felicia’s, and it was located on the road between Foster’s Bank and Pensacola.  It wasn’t a very pleasant area – most people referred to it as the “Slums” –and I immediately regretted that I had promised to take them there.  Since my family had moved away, the neighborhood had become scary.

As we approached my old neighborhood, Ray pointed ahead, “Yeah, man.  It’s a few more blocks, man.  I can’t remember the name of the street.  You know what I mean, man?”

I drove past several streets, and Ray finally said, “Yeah, man.  This one!  Turn right here, man.”

Once we were on the road, Ray pointed out his friend’s house.  I pulled into the drive.  “Wait here, man,” Ray instructed.  “I’ll motion for you in a minute, man.  You can bring her with you, man.”  He headed up to the big brick house.

“I...I better get home now, Josh.  I don’t really know you and Ray that well,” I was actually starting to get nervous.

“Kat, please wait with me.  I don’t know Ray’s friend either.  I was hoping you might take me back to my friend’s house.  He lives over in Foster’s Bank.”  That voice – how could I resist that voice?  And he remembered my name!  This was the moment for decision.  I could escape an increasingly bad situation and laugh about it later with Felicia, or I could continue to take chances that might lead to the trouble Felicia had warned me about.

No choice here: I waited.  Soon, a bearded man with long brown hair opened the door.  Ray spoke to him for a moment and then the man disappeared into the house again.  Ray waved for us to join him.  I stayed firmly planted in my seat.  Josh got out, but he came to my window and leaned in it.  “Come on, Kat.  I’ll take care of you.”  Reluctantly, I opened my door, and Josh helped me out.

We walked up on the porch just as the bearded man reappeared.   My eyes grew three sizes larger when I saw that the man was holding a knife.  Josh quickly pulled me down the steps and back to the ground.

“Get in the car,” he said in a commanding voice.  He didn’t need to order me.  I was already opening the car door.

The bearded man swung the knife at Ray, and Ray jumped down out of his way.  “Watch it, man!  I just came to get my money, man!  I’ve got some more grass for you, man!  I ain’t after your stash, man!  I’m your friend, man!”

I slowly began to grasp what was going on here.  Ray had sold some marijuana to this guy and he was here to collect his money.  Old Bearded One thought Ray was there to take his dope, and he was willing to fight for his weed – to the death, if necessary.  Once the Bearded One understood what Ray was talking about, he threw down the knife and embraced Ray.  Did I say I grasped what was going on?  I just knew this was a bad scene, and I needed to go.

I heard Josh saying, “Are you staying, Ray?  I’m going back to Fresno’s pad.  Kat’s going to give me a ride.”

Ray turned to Josh, “Yeah, man.  I’ll be okay now that he recognizes me, man.  He’s just on a bad trip.  He’ll be fine now.  You know what I mean, man?  Say, do you need some weed, man?”

“No, I’m fine,” Josh answered.  Turning to me, he said, “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t guess how happy I was to oblige him.  I backed out and flew away from that house.

“Slow down, Mario,” Josh laughed.  He was quiet for a moment.  “I’m sorry about that scene with Ray and his friend.  If I’d known pot was involved, I wouldn’t have asked you to take us.”

Josh seemed sincere.  The more he talked, the more I liked him.  “Tell me about yourself, Kat,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell.  I’m a junior in high school.  I’m sixteen.  I have one brother who is in the Navy.  I also have a niece and a nephew.  That’s about all.”  I must have sounded extremely boring.

“You have a beautiful Southern drawl.  Where are you from originally?  Georgia?”

“It’s not a Southern drawl.  It’s a country accent.  I used to live in Alabama.”  Boy how I hated to admit that.  I hated my accent, too.  I had been trying to banish it since I moved to Foster’s Bank.  That was seven years ago, and it was still hanging around like a stray cat that I had fed.

“Whatever it is, I like it.  It’s so much more delightful than my Cajun accent.  I’m from New Orleans.  My daddy is the Chief of Police over there.”

“How old are you, Josh?”  My parents would never let me date anyone as old as Josh must be, but I hoped he might be younger than I thought.

“I’m twenty – almost twenty-one.  I joined the Navy for a three year stint, and my time is up in June.  I’m on sea duty – stationed on the Lexington.  Ray and I met about a year ago.  He’s a little older than me, but he’s very immature.  Maybe it’s all the pot he smokes.  I smoke, too.  Just not as much as Ray.  I like to stay in control.”

I didn’t know what to make of Josh and Ray’s marijuana usage.  I had never smoked it, but I had smelled it on other people.  It stunk.  Still, I kept thinking that I should try it someday.  “I’ve never smoked,” I said, “but I like to drink.”

“Smoking pot is no worse than drinking.  In fact, I can handle myself better when I’m high than I can when I’m drunk.  Of course, if you don’t want to smoke, there’s nothing wrong with that.  You need to turn here.  My friend Fresno lives on this street.  It’s still several blocks to the apartments though.”

I turned, and I began to think that I would never see Josh again.  He was just being kind to me.  I was much too young and inexperienced for a guy like him.  He pointed to the apartment complex, and I turned into the drive.

“You can let me off here,” he said.  “Thanks for the ride.  I’m sorry about Ray, too.”  He started to close the door, but he seemed to want to say more.  He stuck his head back inside.  “I don’t suppose your parents would let you date a sailor.  I’m probably too old, right?”

He wanted to ask me out!  “I used to date a sailor.  My mom would have to meet you, of course.”

“Well, I was going to get Fresno to take me to this game room tonight so I could play pool.  I’d rather go with you, but I don’t have a car.  Would she let you drive?”

I took a risk.  “I’m sure she won’t mind.  What time?”

“Pick me up at six.  I’ll be waiting right out here.  Is that okay?”

“I’ll be here.”  And I knew I would – even if I had to lie.

He shut the door, and I watched as he walked away.  As I drove away, I tried to concoct a story that my mother would believe.  I couldn’t possibly tell her that I had picked up a hitchhiker and expect to survive through the telling of that story.  Maybe Laura could help me.  All I knew was that I had to go on this date.

Laura was happy to hear my voice.  Felicia had called her and filled her in on our little escapade, and, of course, Laura was worried about me.  I told her about my adventure but not about my date with Josh.  She told me that I was crazy for driving those guys around.  “I would have thrown them out at The Barrels,” she said.  “You should have listened to Felicia.”

“Maybe.  But I really liked Josh.  I didn’t want to throw him out.  And Ray was his friend, so I couldn’t just dump him.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get stopped by the cops if he had drugs on him.”  I hadn’t even thought about the police.  I wondered what they would have done to me.

“I guess I should tell you about my upcoming date...” I said.

“Date?  With who?  Did Wayne finally ask you out?”

“Wayne?  Why would he ask me out?  We’re friends, and that’s all.  I’m talking about a real date.”  I wondered if Laura knew something about Wayne that I didn’t.

“Okay, I’ll bite.  Who’s the date with?”

“Josh,” I answered.

“Ha-ha.  Very funny.  Even you aren’t stupid enough to go out with one of those guys,” Laura said with delight.

“I’m not kidding, Laura.  Josh asked me to go play pool with him.  Now I have to come up with a story for my mom.  I can’t tell her that I picked up a hitchhiker.  You have to help me think of something.”

The pleading in my voice must have won Laura over.  “I still say you’re crazy, but I guess I will help you.  Did your mom know you were going anywhere today?”

“I told her it was Felicia’s birthday.  I asked her if we could go to the bowling alley.  She said we could if I got home by four.  I was home by three-thirty.”

“That’s perfect.  Just tell her you met him at the bowling alley.  I’m sure you can embellish the story just fine without me.  Don’t forget to offer to bring him home to meet her.  That will be the selling point.  If a guy is willing to meet your mom, he must be an upstanding person.  At least that’s what my mom thinks.  Try it out anyway.  It can’t hurt.”

Laura’s plan was great.  Why didn’t I think of it?  Now all I had to do was wait on Mom.

My mom came home from work at four-thirty – she was managing the shop completely now, and her hours had changed.  I met her at the door, and she could tell that something was exciting me.

“Give me a chance to get inside before you start asking for favors,” she remarked.  Once inside, she put her purse down and turned to me, “All right, what’s got you all charged up?”

I had developed my final story fifteen minutes ago and practiced it several times.  I had even called Felicia and tried it out on her.  She agreed that it was foolproof.  I was ready to bluff my mom into letting me go out with a perfect stranger – emphasis on the perfect.  “I met someone at the bowling alley today.”

“Really?  Who?”

“His name is Josh.  He asked me out on a date.”  I was preparing for the line of questions she was formulating in her head.

“Josh, hum?  How old is he?”  She was just starting to warm up.

“He’s a sailor.  He’s twenty years old, and he works on the Lexington.  Can you believe he used to work with Greg?”  My story was good.

“Greg?  The Greg you used to date?”

“Uh-huh.  They were friends.”

“That’s nice.  Now how did you two figure out that you both knew Greg?”  She was getting technical now.

“We didn’t, at first.  Felicia and I were going to bowl, but there were no empty lanes.  We went to the snack bar to have a soda, and Josh and his friend offered to buy our drinks.  We started talking, and they said they were on the Lex.  I mentioned Greg, and soon we realized that we both knew him.  Greg had told Josh about me, too.  Later, Josh asked me to go play pool with him.  Please, Mama, can I?”

“I don’t know about that.  Where are you going – the bowling alley?  I don’t want you going into Pensacola at night.  Is he picking you up?”

“No, we aren’t going to Pensacola.  He’s staying here in Foster’s Bank with some friends.”  This much of my story was true.  “We were going to this game room on Phillips Road.  The one across from the mall.  But Josh doesn’t have a car.  He does want to meet you though.  I can either meet him at the game room or pick him up.  If I pick him up, we can come by here on our way.  Please!”  I wasn’t above begging.  I wanted to go out with him.  I had never wanted anything so much – except maybe Max.

“He said he wanted to meet me?”

“Yes.  He said he didn’t want to go out with me if my parents didn’t approve.  His dad’s a police officer, and he raised Josh to do things right.”  This wasn’t part of my original story, but, the more I lied, the easier it was.  My imagination was working overtime, and I was going to make Josh look like an angel.

“He sounds like a fine young man...”  Relief washed over me.  I had done it.  She wouldn’t even ask to meet him now.  “...Pick him up and bring him over.  I’d like to meet a man that has morals and manners.  Then the two of you can go out.  I’ll even raise your curfew to eleven o’clock.”

I didn’t win everything, but I was going to get to go out with him.  Josh wouldn’t mind meeting my mom.  And I was getting an extra hour with him.  I was ecstatic.

I met Josh at six o’clock sharp.  He was waiting for me.  “You’re right on time,” he said.

I smiled.  “I hope you don’t mind, but my mom wants to meet you.”

“That’s cool.  I told you that I would.  I don’t want you lying to her.”  Too late for that.

When we reached our house, Josh came around and helped me get out of the car.  As we approached the house, I could hear my mom and dad arguing.  “They do this all the time,” I told Josh.  I was almost ashamed to let him meet them.

Before I could open the door, Mom jerked it open.  “Hi, Kat.”

“Hi, Mom.  This is Josh...”

“Joshua Boucher, Ma’am,” he told my mom.  He pronounced his last name “Boo-shay.”

“Nice to meet you.  Sorry I can’t invite you in.  You two have a good time.  Be home by eleven, Kat.”  Mom practically closed the door in our face.  I looked at Josh and shrugged.

In the parking lot of the game room, Josh pulled a joint out of his pocket.  “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” he asked before lighting it.

“Oh, no.  Go right ahead.”  I wanted him to feel comfortable.

“Want some?” he offered, after he got it lit.  The smell was already overwhelming.  It seemed that I was smoking it already.

“Okay.  But I’ve never done it before.”

Josh held the end of the joint to my lips.  “Suck hard.  You might not want to inhale until you get used to it.”

I took a long, hard suck on it.  The heat from the tip and the harshness of the burning weed filled my mouth.  I wanted to expel it immediately, but I knew I would look like a fool.  Instead, I tried to swallow the smoke.  This resulted in a coughing fit.  The smoke escaped from my mouth, but I also felt the heat of the smoke inside my lungs.

“I told you not to inhale,” Josh said with a snicker.  He patted me on the back.  “Don’t worry.  Everyone reacts that way the first time.”

Josh took another hit on the joint, and then he put it out and hid it in his wallet.  “We’ll finish this later,” he said.

We played several games of pool.  Most of the time, I won.  Josh wasn’t very good, and my dad – who was practically a pool shark – had taught me how to win.  My skill surprised Josh, but he didn’t get upset when he lost.

Around eight o’clock, Josh said, “Let’s get out of here.  I’m hungry.”

After we got on the highway, Josh asked me to stop at a convenience store.  “You want something to eat?”

I was hungry, but I did not want to eat in front of him.  “No, I’m okay.”

“I’ll get us something to drink.  Anything special that you like?”

“Whatever you are having,” I answered.

A few minutes later, Josh appeared with two bags.  I could see the neck of a bottle sticking out of one.  It looked like a wine bottle.  “Let’s go to the beach,” he said.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I turned and headed towards Pensacola Beach.  It was a drive, but we were soon sitting on a sand dune and staring out at the vast Gulf.  It was dark and cold, and I was alone with someone I barely knew.

Josh made a small campfire on the ground in front of us.  He pulled the bottle out of the bag.  It was a jug of something called “Pink Chablis,” and it was pink.  “I’ve never had this before, but it looked like something you might like,” he told me as he popped out the cork.

I took the bottle from him.  It was big, but I turned it up and took a swig.  The taste was sweet and bitter – kind of like soured grapes.  I made a face – my lips puckered, my eyes squinted, and my nose wrinkled.  Josh laughed.  “It’s that good, eh?”

“Terrific,” I said as I prepared for another drink.  Then I held the bottle to him, “Try it.”

It was great sitting there with Josh, but the wind was cold.  I couldn’t stop shivering.  Josh looked over at me.  “Let’s get back in the car.”

Sitting in the car on the main road wasn’t as much fun as sitting on the beach.  Cars kept whipping past us, and I couldn’t sit as close to Josh.  He hadn’t touched me or anything, but we had sat close together on the beach.

“We need to find a more private place.  I can’t smoke my joint here, and someone may see us drinking.  Let’s see if we can find a deserted dirt road or something.”

I wanted to leave the beach, too, but I was beginning to feel the effects of the wine.  “I don’t think I can drive right now.”

“I’ll drive,” Josh said.  We exchanged seats in the car, and Josh took us away from the beach.  Since he knew when my curfew was, he decided to drive us back towards Foster’s Bank.  After a long while, we started down a rural street that Josh said was just a few miles from the beach near Foster’s Bank.  All the while, I was sipping on that bottle of Chablis.  Josh drove slowly until he found a dirt road leading off to the right.  He turned down it and traveled about a quarter of a mile.  He then pulled off the road and turned off the car.  I didn’t have a clue where we were.

“Come on.  Let’s sit in the back,” he urged me.

Too drunk to argue, I helped Josh push the front seats forward and we got into the back.  Josh lit up his joint, and we shared the wine.  I don’t know how long we sat there, but Josh smoked several joints, and the smoke in the car was thick.  After breathing for a few moments in that fog, I was as high as Josh was.

After we finished off the wine, Josh put his arm around me and pulled me towards him.  He started kissing me and that I do remember.  The next thing I remember is Josh pulling up my pants.  Suddenly, a pair of bright lights came shining in through the back window of my car.  Josh quickly zipped his pants and helped me straighten up my clothes.  “Who the hell is that?” he said anxiously.

Just then, someone flashed a beam of light in my face.  Still dazed and trying to remember what had just happened between Josh and me, I was unfazed by the blinding flashlight.  Josh was more in control.  He leaned past me and rolled the window on the driver’s side down to see who was out there.  I was enough aware to recognize a policeman standing outside my car.  My whole life flashed before my dilated eyes as the officer said, “What’s going on here?”

It was obvious what was going on.  We were in the backseat, Josh’s shirt was off, and marijuana smoke was steadily streaming into the officer’s face.  I saw the bars of a cell slamming in my face.  Josh was strangely calm.  Perhaps he had been in prison before.

“Hi, Officer,” Josh said confidently.  “My wife and I...”  He pointed to me.  “We just got married, and we live with her parents.  We were just looking for a little privacy.  You understand.”

No, I thought, he doesn’t understand.  We are going to jail, and my mother is going to kill me.

“I understand,” the policeman said, “but this is a private road.  Why don’t you go over to the beach?  It’s only a few miles away.  No one will bother you there.”

“Okay, Sir,” Josh told him.  “Thank you.  We’ll leave right away.”

The policeman walked away.  He got into his car and left us sitting there.  We weren’t going to jail after all.

Josh leaned over and kissed me as he said, “We should get out of here.”  He started laughing.  “I can’t believe that cop bought my story.”

Josh reached over and opened my door for me, but I couldn’t move.  I’d just had a life changing experience, and I couldn’t even remember most of it.  Also, my head was still swimming from the pot and the wine; I wasn’t sure I could drive.  Somehow, my eyes came to rest on my watch.  Slowly I began to realize that it was ten-thirty.  I had only thirty minutes to take Josh home and get home myself.  Instantly, I was as sober as a judge.

I really felt like Mario Andretti as I sped non-stop some ten miles from the beach to downtown Foster’s Bank.  I was only a few miles from the apartments where Josh was staying, and it was still ten minutes before I’d miss my curfew.  Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I saw flashing red lights ahead.  A train was about to cross in front of me!  Panic gripped me as I realized I had no chance of getting home by eleven.

The caboose waddled by at ten-fifty-seven.  I still had to get Josh home.  As we approached the apartment building, I envisioned my forthcoming execution, or – worse yet – my forthcoming ten year restriction.

At four-after-eleven, I brought the car to a stop where Josh was pointing.  Josh told me that he’d had a wonderful time.  Then he told me that he had to leave the next day to ship out on the Lexington which was pulling out from nearby NAS Pensacola.  The aircraft carrier was going to New York City for over a month, and Josh had to go with them.  At once, I knew that he was dumping me.  This was the same thing that happened to Laura and Felicia when they lost their virginity.  I told him to have a good time and prepared to leave.  “Do you have a piece of paper?” he asked me.  “I’d like to have your phone number and your address.  I can write you while I’m in New York.”

My spirits lifted.  I fumbled through my purse until I came across my notepad.  I scribbled my address and phone number on it and then tore the sheet off and handed it to Josh.  A harrowing thought flashed through my mind, “He’s probably going to throw this away when he gets out of sight.”

“I’ll write to you soon.  I promise.  And I’ll be back in March.  I hope you’ll be waiting.  You can meet the ship when it comes in.”  He leaned over and kissed me goodnight.  “I hope your mom isn’t too mad.  Bye.”  He left the car and walked towards the building.  I wanted to watch him, but I knew I had to get home.  It was eleven-ten already.

At home, my mom read me the riot act.  I apologized and promised it would never happen again.  She must have been in a good mood because she let me off easy.  All she did was send me to bed.  I had lucked out all the way around that night.

I counted the days until Josh would be back, and I watched the mailbox for a letter.  I had to wait until February to receive any mail from him.  It was a few days before Valentine’s Day, and he sent me a Valentine.  He wrote inside, “Love, Josh.  You and Pink Chablis really turn me on.”  I wrote back to him using the address he put on the envelope.  Two weeks later, he wrote me a four page letter.  Even before I read it, I knew I must be in love.  Josh would be home in two more weeks, and he wanted me to meet him when he arrived.  I was jubilant.

Josh returned on a Wednesday during Spring Break.  I talked Olivia into going with me to meet him.  We sat in the parking lot for forty-five minutes before he appeared.  I introduced him to Olivia, and the three of us rode around together for a couple of hours.  He was going to be on duty for the rest of the week, so we made plans to go out on Saturday night.

I got to the Lexington at four o’clock on Saturday afternoon.  Josh and Ray were waiting near the gangplank.  They both walked over to my car.  Ray was drinking a Michelob beer from a bottle.  “Hi, Kat,” Josh said to me.  “Ray was wondering if you had a friend that you could fix him up with.  He wants to go with us.”

I immediately thought of Felicia; just as quickly, I remembered how much she had loathed Ray.  And Laura was still dating Billy.  Olivia wouldn’t do it either, but I decided to call her anyway.  The phone rang and rang, but Olivia wasn’t answering.

“That’s all right,” Josh told me.  “We’ll dump him somewhere.  Or maybe your friend will come back home.  It’s still early.”

The three of us climbed into my car.  Josh took the shotgun position, and Ray was sitting directly behind me.  He offered me a beer, but I politely declined.

As we drove along, Ray kept talking more and more, and I was getting pretty sick of him.  I was ready to drop him off at the next corner, but he would have no part of that.  “What about your friend, man?  Fuchsia or whatever her name was – is she going out with me, man?”

“Felicia’s not available,” I said.

“You gotta have another friend, man.  Josh wants you to himself, man.  I don’t want to be a third wheel, man.”

“Most of my friends have boyfriends, and Olivia wasn’t home when I called her.”  I didn’t want him to be a third wheel either.

“If you don’t know anyone I can go with, Josh and I will just go to a bar by ourselves, man.  Right, Josh?”

“I don’t think so.  Kat and I have been waiting for tonight for a long time,” Josh told Ray.

“You owe me, man – big time.  And I think we ought to go to that bar I told you about.”

I was about ready to stop the car and push Ray out.  I hadn’t much liked him before, and he was quickly losing points on my likability scale.  If he said, “man” one more time, I was going to explode!  At the same time, I felt Josh’s growing unrest.  He was torn between his best friend – whom he’d known at least a year – and his girl – whom he’d seen only four times.  I was completely aware that I was going to lose this tug of war if I didn’t do something fast.

“Let’s drive by Olivia’s house.  She lives right up here.  Maybe she’s home now.”  I would feel guilty pairing Olivia up with the likes of Ray, but it was a price I was willing to pay to be with Josh.

“Good idea,” Josh said with a smile.  With any luck, he wouldn’t have to choose between Ray and me.

Olivia wasn’t home.  Josh’s smile had faded.  Ray was pushing the envelope.  If I made Josh choose, I might lose him forever.  I had to diffuse the situation.  “Which bar do you want to go to?” I asked.  I stopped at a stop sign and waited for their answer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia’s mom’s red Chevy Nova at a corner gas station.  Olivia was pumping gas into it.  “Wait a minute!” I shouted.  “There’s Olivia.  Let’s see if she wants to go out with us.”

I pulled my car up alongside Olivia’s.  After explaining that Ray didn’t have a date, I asked Olivia if she would like to go out with him.  She held out until I started to beg.  Then she said, “Okay, I guess I’ll go.  But I need to change.  Give me twenty minutes; then pick me up.”

Olivia looked beautiful when she emerged from her house.  She was wearing a frilly white shirt and a pair of black pants.   I felt underdressed and out of place in my pink T-shirt and jeans until I took a glance at Josh and Ray.  Josh was wearing a red T-shirt and jeans; Ray was wearing his trademark beret, a green T-shirt, and jeans.  Poor Olivia was the one out of place.

Josh let Olivia into the backseat.  After some discussion, we made a group decision to go out to the beach.  Josh suggested Pensacola Beach, where we’d gone for our first date, but we went to a small private beach on the west end of Foster’s Bank instead.  The drive to the beach took about twenty minutes since Olivia’s house was on the opposite side of town.  During the trip, I kept looking in my mirror to see what was happening in the backseat.  Olivia was sitting as far away from Ray as she could get.  Ray didn’t seem any happier with Olivia.  I started realizing what a disaster this night was going to be.

We got to the beach at five-thirty.  It was still light outside.  We turned on my car radio and sat there talking together.  Ray was smoking pot, and Olivia didn’t like that.  I was drinking with Josh and Ray, but I don’t remember if Olivia was drinking.  Olivia was having a lousy time.  She and Ray were barely speaking.  As a last ditch effort, Josh suggested that they take a walk on the beach together.  Both Olivia and Ray were okay with the idea, so they got out of the car and left Josh and me alone.

Josh and I enjoyed our moments alone.  I smoked a joint with him, but I still didn’t like it.  We kissed, and Josh laid my head in his lap and stroked my hair.  “Lay Down Sally” came on the radio, and he sang it to me – changing the words to “lay down Kat.”  We talked until the sun had disappeared completely.

At last, Ray and Olivia returned.  I could tell that Olivia was still unhappy, but she wasn’t complaining.  After they got back in the car, Josh looked at me and shrugged.  Ray said, “Let’s go to Pensacola Beach, man.”

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, but I hoped it might ease the tension that was mounting in the back.  Ray was drinking again, and, after a minute, he lit up another joint.  I knew I had to get Olivia away from Ray, but I wasn’t sure how.  Maybe I would think of a solution while we drove to the other beach.

Along the way, I began to hear strange noises from the backseat.  I could see Olivia sitting behind Josh, but Ray was completely out of sight.  Josh looked back at Ray.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sure, I’m fine, man,” Ray answered.

Just then, I heard a noise I recognized: Ray was vomiting.  Then I heard Olivia’s voice, and she was screaming.  “Oh, shit!  He just threw-up all over me!  Kat, you need to find a gas station and stop!  Now!”

There were no gas stations in sight, but I turned down a street that led to one.  It took about five minutes, but I found a place to stop.  I pulled up beside the restroom and jumped out.  Josh hopped out, and Olivia practically knocked him down getting out of the backseat.  Her beautiful white shirt wasn’t beautiful or white anymore.  I looked at her and asked, “Is there any on my seat?”

“Kat!” she yelled. “Look at me.  Do you really think I care about your seat?  Come help me get this puke off me.”

I looked at Josh.  “I’ll take care of your car.  Go help Olivia,” he said.

I thanked him and followed Olivia into the lady’s room.  She took off her blouse and began washing it in the sink.  I just stood there staring at her.  “I guess you want to go home,” I said.

“No, I wouldn’t want to ruin your evening.  Are you crazy?  Of course, I want to go home.  I can’t wait to get away from that...that...I really don’t know how to describe him.  He just ruined my new blouse and my evening.  Do you really imagine that I want to spend more time with him?”  Olivia was angry.  Very angry.

“I was hoping...” I said.

“Hoping?  Hoping what?” Olivia demanded.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t want to go home.  He didn’t throw up on you on purpose.  Josh didn’t do anything.  He hasn’t even smoked pot in front of you because he knows you don’t like that.  Please, Olivia.  Please say you’ll go with us to the beach.  After tonight, you won’t ever have to see him again.  I promise...” I was about to get down on my knees.

“You promise?  Nothing – and I mean nothing – could ever make me see him again.  You don’t have anything to do with it.  But okay.  I guess I’ll go with you to the beach.  I don’t know why, but I’ll go.  You owe me big time; don’t forget it.”  Olivia smiled sardonically and turned back to the sink.  She continued talking – more to herself than to me.  “No, I don’t know why.  It’s not like you would ever hold it against me.  In a month or two, you won’t even remember who Josh Boucher is...”

I left the bathroom to check on Ray.  I felt certain his episode was a case of overindulgence, but I had to make sure.  He was coming out of the men’s room.  He was wringing out his green shirt, and a puddle of water formed at his feet.

Josh caught me by the arm.  “Your car was fine.  I guess everything went on Olivia and Ray.  I’m sorry he’s acted like such a jerk tonight.  I guess Olivia wants to go home?”

“No, she’s being a good sport.  She doesn’t much like Ray, but she loves me.  She’s doing this for me.”

Olivia tried to dry her blouse under the hand dryer in the bathroom, but it didn’t work very well.  Still, she had to wear it.  There was nothing else for her to put on.  Remarkably, the stain came out, and the blouse appeared white again.  But it was also totally transparent.  I didn’t reveal this observation to Olivia.  I knew she’d insist on going home.  Or she’d make me give her my clean shirt.  Best to keep quiet.

Ray put his wet T-shirt on and apologized to Olivia.  In a little while, we were all having a good laugh over the whole event.  Even Olivia and Ray were talking and laughing together.  With the ice between them finally broken, I wondered what the rest of the night would bring.  Part of me worried that Ray had warmed up because he could see through Olivia’s top.

When we reached the beach, Josh and I decided to take a walk.  Olivia and Ray were perfectly happy to stay behind in the car.  Josh and I sat on the beach and kissed.  After a while, he tried to unbutton my jeans, but I grabbed his hand and said, “No.  Not tonight.”

“Why?” he asked.

The real reason was that I wasn’t drunk or high enough, but I said, “It’s just not a good time.”

I couldn’t tell if Josh was angry or hurt.  He stood up and pulled me to my feet.  “We’d better get back before they kill each other,” was all he said.

Walking back to the car, Josh started joking around, and we had another good laugh about Olivia and Ray’s backseat pukefest.  Between two tall sand dunes, we found the path leading back to my car.  As we neared the street side of the dunes, Josh said, “Do you think I should warn them that we are coming back?”

I laughed at that thought.  “Maybe...but I doubt it.”

We walked out into the open, and Josh started howling like a dog.  The car loomed in the distance, and Josh howled until we were almost upon it.  He glanced in through the back window, and then he quickly clamped his hands over my eyes.  “You really don’t want to see this,” he said with a shudder.

I heard Olivia giggle and Ray began laughing.  It wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing.

Josh and I leaned up against the back of the car until Olivia and Ray got dressed and ready to leave.  Olivia’s cheeks were red, but she was happier than I had ever seen her.  Her loss of innocence would be something she’d always remember.  Although the idea of lying down with Ray revolted me, I envied Olivia that night.

Olivia’s curfew was eleven o’clock, so I took her home first.  I didn’t have to be home until twelve, and it was only ten forty-five.  Josh said that he needed some munchies, so we decided to go to a Hardees restaurant before I took them home.  I ate a hamburger and drank a soda.  Josh and Ray each had a roast beef sandwich, large fries, and a soda.  They were still hungry.  Josh had another roast beef; Ray had a Big Twin hamburger, a cheeseburger, and another large fry.  I’m sure they could have kept eating, but it was almost eleven thirty.

I drove the guys back to Josh’s friend’s apartment in Foster’s Bank.  My house was less than ten minutes away, so I still had plenty of time to make it home.  Josh and I talked for a few minutes, and then he kissed me goodbye and told me he’d call me.  Ray said he would see me later.   I would see Ray again, but that was the end of Josh.  I spoke to him on the phone one more time, but then he was just gone.  Oddly enough, I wasn’t heartbroken.  It was like Olivia had said.  After a month or so, I forgot all about Josh Boucher – except for that night when he changed me forever.  I might not remember the details, but I would never forget the consequences.  Soon after Josh, I gave up my wild drinking sprees, and I never smoked pot again.

Olivia continued to see Ray for at least a month after Josh disappeared from my life.  Once, I went with her to visit him on the Lexington.  He was different that night – maybe he was sober.  He was amusing and even charming, to a certain extent.  The “yeah, mans” were almost nonexistent that night, and I came to believe that he really liked Olivia.  It surprised me when he stopped calling her, but she handled the situation well.

Then it happened.  Olivia came to school in a frenzy.  It was May, and school would soon be over, but Olivia was wailing that she’d never make to be a senior.  I finally convinced her to tell me what was wrong.  “I’m dying.  I think I have cancer or something.  I haven’t had my period.”

I almost swallowed my tongue.  “Olivia, you aren’t dying.  I think you might be pregnant.”

Now Olivia was even more frightened.  “No...I’m dying.  I am not pregnant.  I’m dying, and don’t you forget it.”

As it turned out, we were both wrong.  Olivia had her period a few weeks later, and the doctor told her that she had an abnormal cycle.  He put her on birth control pills to regulate her.  A few months later, I visited the doctor myself.  I didn’t plan to have sex anytime soon, but I had learned that sometimes it just happens.

After Olivia’s scare, my mother began to think that she might be a bad influence on me, and she told me I couldn’t go out with her as much anymore.  I couldn’t explain to my mother that I was the bad influence, not Olivia.  I curtailed my activities with Olivia to please my mom.  Now we went out only occasionally, but we were constantly on the phone together.

I spent the summer traveling with my family.  Rick, Rebecca, Birdie and Carl joined us.  Luckily, they were traveling in a different car.  My parents wanted to visit San Diego, California.  When my dad first joined the Navy, he was stationed there.  My mother’s father, also a Navy man, was stationed there as well, and my parents had met during that time.  I think they were hoping to rekindle their marriage by returning to the place their love had first bloomed.  I was to spend time with Rick and his family doing all kinds of fun things…like babysitting his kids so he and Rebecca could help their love bloom a little bit.

I still had a lot of fun.  While we were there we went to Disneyland and Tijuana, Mexico, but my favorite trip was to the San Diego Zoo.  It wasn’t just the animals.  This was the place my parents had met each other.  I had long romanticized about meeting my future husband there, but, as it turned out, I didn’t meet a soul.  Clearly the animals were friendlier than the boys in California.

My dad became very sick, so we left San Diego.  He improved on the trip back, and he wanted to continue with our original plans: following Rick and family back to their home in Orlando.  While we were at their house, we visited Disney World and Sea World.  Finally, we returned to Foster’s Bank a few weeks before school started.

At this time, Olivia and I got a job working together at Mac’s, a local hamburger joint.  At first, this brought us closer together, but later we started drifting apart.  I began hanging out more with Laura and Donna.

School started, and Olivia and I only had two classes to attend.  I went to Human Development, the school’s clever name for Sex Education, for first period.  Mrs. Cline was my teacher.  Second period was English.  Mrs. Keystone was teaching that class.  Olivia had English first period and World History second period.  We spent the rest of our day at work or at home.

Midway into the first semester of our senior year, I decided that I was destroying a good friendship.  One Saturday, I asked Olivia if she would like to go somewhere after work.  She did.  For some reason, my mother had hardened her stance against Olivia, and she refused to let me go out with her.  I finally told her that I was going skating, and she allowed me to go.  So far, my lies hadn’t caught up with me.  I felt safe and confident that Mom would never learn the truth.

Olivia and I wound up driving around an apartment complex called White Oaks.  A few weeks before, I had met a guy named Scott who lived there, and I asked Olivia if I could go talk to him for a few minutes.  Olivia said sure.  Scott lived in the corner apartment on the first floor.  I parked in front of his apartment, and Olivia and I both got out.  Olivia leaned against the front of my car while I knocked on Scott’s door.

My mother knew I had dated Scott a few times, although she had never met him.  He was twenty-four years old, and I tried to keep this fact from my mother.  He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was an officer in the Navy.  Scott had very short brown hair, hazel eyes, and a baby face.  He was very polite and respectful, but I was only interested in him because he spent money on me.  He would soon be another notch on my belt, but for now he was the man of the hour.

Scott invited me into his apartment and Olivia told me to go ahead.  I noticed that she was eyeing some guy that was standing in the doorway three doors down.  I followed Scott inside and soon forgot about Olivia.

Scott and I were sitting on his bed kissing.  We would never go farther than that, but I did enjoy kissing him.  All at once, I heard a car horn blowing.  It was very loud, and I instantly knew it was blowing for me.  I jumped off the bed and ran to the door.  I threw the door open, and there was my mother in her car laying on the horn.  She had caught me.  If she saw Olivia, I would really be dead.  But Olivia was not there.

“Katrina Kipling, what are you doing here?  You were supposed to be skating.  Get your butt into that car and come straight home.  I’ll wait for you at the main road.  And you had better hope that Olivia McLain is not with you.  Get moving!”

She drove away, but I knew she’d be waiting.  I nervously looked around for Olivia, but she was not in sight.  The man in the doorway was also missing and the door was closed.  I quickly told Scott goodbye and got into my car.  I hated to leave Olivia, but I would die if my mother caught me with her.  I left the apartments and followed my mother home.  I had no idea how Olivia would get home, and I was too scared to care.  Poor Olivia!

The next day, I called Olivia.  She refused to talk to me.  On Monday, I apologized.  She refused to talk to me.  On Wednesday, she finally talked to me long enough to explain what happened.  She’d gone into the man in the doorway’s apartment.  His name was Jerry.  They were just joking around at first, but he soon became too friendly.  He pushed her onto his bed and kept telling her that he was horny.  She managed to break away from him, but when she ran outside, my car wasn’t there.  Scott wasn’t answering his door either, so she started walking home.  An older man stopped and offered her a ride, and she accepted.  Luckily for her, he was trustworthy.  He dropped her safely at her front door.

It would take a while, but Olivia would forgive me.  We went through many ups and downs that year, but when we graduated, we were best friends.  Even a jerk like me couldn’t kill a friendship like ours.  Fortunately for me.

Chapter 13

Amazingly, Olivia and I had remained good friends over the years.  There were periods when we didn’t talk for months at a time, but each of us knew that the other one was just a phone call away.  I now admitted to myself that I hadn’t been as good a friend as Olivia had been, and I regretted that.  She always forgave me my little indiscretions, but she always reminded me of how selfish and spoiled she thought I was.  Sometimes, Olivia said things that I didn’t like – she was prone to speak her mind – but I could never remember a single time that I had truly been angry with her.  I wished that she could say the same about me.

I wasn’t expecting Olivia to call back anytime soon, so I went out for lunch.  Fast food was out of the question, so I stopped in at Daley’s Pub, owned and operated by none other than Colleen Daley.  I hadn’t been there in several years but I knew I wanted the shepherd’s pie.  Colleen used the same recipe her father had perfected, and it was always as delicious as I remembered.  Colleen brought me my meal.  We hugged and then caught up for a few minutes, but the pub was busy and she had other diners to attend to.  We promised each other that we’d talk soon as she hurried towards the kitchen.

As I enjoyed my meal, I thought about another pub that I’d once loved frequenting: McGuire’s Irish Pub in Pensacola.  I remembered the dollar bills that were pinned all over the walls – dollars signed and put there over the years by the customers.  Somewhere amongst all the hundreds of bills was one with my name on it – mine and Ben’s.  McGuire’s – in the original location – had been a favorite hangout of ours.  We’d known all the waitresses by name and all the Irish ditties by heart.  The place was so different now that I rarely ever stopped in any more.  Colleen’s place was much more intimate and quiet and it didn’t bring back memories of Ben.

After lunch, I went back home.  I watched TV for a while before going online to check my e-mail.  I surfed some chat rooms, but I didn’t really feel like socializing – even on the Internet.  I ended up playing a game on my PlayStation.  Before I knew it, it was seven o’clock.  I fixed myself a ham sandwich and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.  Right in the middle of my meal, the phone rang.

“Hi, Kat.  I found that guy, but he wouldn’t sell me any tickets.  Sorry.”  It was Olivia.

“It’s okay, Olivia.  I knew he wouldn’t sell.  I don’t blame him.  If I had those tickets, I wouldn’t sell them for a thousand dollars.”

“I would,” Olivia said.

“Okay, we know where you stand on Elton John.  What are you doing tonight?  Going out with Lee?”

“I don’t know.  I might stay home.  I’m plenty tired.  I’ve had a busy day.”  And she’d done it all for me.

“I’ll let you go then.  I’m sort of tired myself.”  Besides that, my soup was getting cold.

After dinner, I took a long bath before heading to bed.  I fell asleep right away and dreamed of Max and Elton John.

Two weeks passed before I saw Max again.  I was spending another Saturday alone in Hurricane Gardens.  I was sitting on my favorite bench when he walked aimlessly by me.  I followed him with my eyes to the end of the sidewalk.  I thought he was going to sit on the bench down there, but he turned around and headed back towards me instead.  I diverted my gaze so he wouldn’t know I was watching him.  Abruptly, he stopped right beside me.  My hands began feeling clammy and my heart began pounding.

“May I sit down?” he asked in his deep voice.

“Sure,” I answered.  Thank God I wasn’t there eating lunch.  I wouldn’t want to throw up on him.

I searched for something to say, but he spoke first.  “I’ve seen you here a lot.  You must really like this place.”

He’d actually noticed me – now and before.  “It’s beautiful here,” was all I could say to him.

“I guess I hadn’t noticed.  I come here because it’s quiet.  I come here to think.”

I finally got the nerve to turn around and look Max in the eye.  He looked so much older than the Max I remembered, and he looked troubled and tired.  He stared back at me, and I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.  I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t make myself get up.

“You – um – I,” he started.  Then that flicker disappeared.

“Did you want to say something?” I asked.  He didn’t recognize me – I was safe.

“You just remind me of someone.  It was a long time ago.  I’m sorry I bothered you.  I’ll go now.”  He stood up.  Something was causing him to be uncomfortable.  If he walked away, I’d never know if it was the memory of me or something else.

Using more strength than I’ve ever known before, I forced myself to stand up.  “Please don’t leave,” I said.  “You aren’t bothering me.  Really.  You remind me of someone, too.  Please sit back down.”

Max obeyed me.  I knew from the look on his face that he was trying to decide who I was.  “It can’t be,” he said finally.  “I must be mistaken.”

“I remind you of something painful?” I asked.

“Not exactly.”  Then he looked deeply into my eyes.  “Are you Kat?  It’s me, Max.”

He recognized me – now what would I do?  “Max?  You’re Max?”  I couldn’t let him detect that I had known all along.

A big smile came across his face.  “Yes!  It’s Max.  Max Savage.  You are Kat, aren’t you?”

I smiled back.  “Yes, I’m Kat.  I can’t believe this.”

Then Max did something totally unexpected.  He hugged me.  Not tenderly nor romantically – just a big bear hug.  It was a long-lost-friend hug.  He held me out before him at arm’s length and looked me up and down.  “Kat, you’re all grown up now.  You aren’t a little girl anymore.”

“I haven’t been for a long time.  I’m thirty-seven.”  Why was I telling him my age?  With my heart jumping up into my throat, how was I talking at all?

“Yeah, I guess you’re old enough to have a little girl of your own,” Max said.

“Old enough, but I don’t have one.  I don’t have any children.”  Pace yourself, I thought.  Breathe slowly and don’t hyperventilate.

Max looked distressed.  I wondered if he thought he had mentioned a taboo subject.  I added, “I guess I never got around to it.  I’m a career woman.  I wouldn’t make a very good mother.”

“Are you married?  Let’s see, who were you interested in back in high school?”  He struck the pose of the “Thinker.”  Was he serious?  If he remembered my name, he had to remember who I wanted to marry.

“I’m not married.  I’m divorced.”

Max looked slightly embarrassed.  “I guess you didn’t marry the guy of your dreams, did you?”

“No,” I answered.  “I think he married someone else.  After him, there wasn’t much to pick from.”

“So you were married.  How long?”  Max ignored my references to him.

“We married in 1981.  I was just twenty.  It lasted three years.”

“Anyone I knew?” he asked.

“No.  Ben wasn’t from school.  He was twenty-five when we married, and he had just moved to Foster’s Bank in the late 70’s.  He’s moved on now.  Tell me about you.  I know you married.”

“You do?”  He sounded surprised.  “You’re right.  I married Julie in 1987.  Julie is your age, but she went to Bragg.  I was working at Thompson’s Machine Shop – I guess you know I’m a welder – and Julie became the receptionist there.  We dated for about a year before we married.  We’ve been together a long time.”  At first, Max had almost beamed when he mentioned Julie; now he looked forlorn and miserable.

“I’m glad you’ve been so happy,” I said, although I wondered if this was true.

“We were happy – very happy.  At least I was.  Julie was a wonderful wife.  She wanted children, but after she miscarried three times, we decided it wasn’t meant to be.  Now that she’s gone, I guess it was for the best.”  There were tears in his eyes.  I felt wretched.  Julie must have died, I thought.

“I’m so sorry, Max.  When did it happen?”

“She told me about a month ago, but I told myself it would never happen.  Then, suddenly last week...”  Max stopped.  He couldn’t continue without breaking down.

“We don’t have to talk about it.  It happened so recently.  These things take time.”  I fumbled for the right words, but inside I could only think that Max was free.  My conscience would get me for that later.

Max had recomposed himself.  “No.  It’s okay.  Julie’s gone, and I have to learn to live with that.  Maybe she’s happier.  She hadn’t been happy in a long time.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.  I imagined that cancer was the culprit.

“A few weeks ago, she decided that she wanted out.  She had no specific reason for her decision; she was just tired of me and our marriage, I guess.  I begged her not to go.  She agreed to stay for a while, but almost every day she would mention it.  Last week, I came home to an empty house.  She moved in with her sister, and she won’t even talk to me.”

Max’s story stunned me.  I felt his pain, but it wasn’t as great as mine.  Max still loved Julie.  He could never even learn to love me while he yearned for her.  I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t.  Max needed Julie.  No one else would ever be enough for him.

“That must be painful,” I said.  “I want to help you.  What can I do?”

“Why would you want to help me?  I haven’t even seen you in twenty-something years.  I’m little more than a stranger to you.  I don’t know why you would care enough to want to help.”

I wondered if I had overstepped my boundaries.  My next words to Max could be my last words to him.  I knew I had to choose them carefully.  “You’re right.  I don’t really know you, but I would like to get to know you.  You seem lost – like you need a friend.  I could be your friend.  Maybe I can help you work this out.”  I hoped that I wasn’t being too pushy.

“Maybe...I have felt better talking to you.  There’s really no one else I can talk to.  My dad is sympathetic, but he really doesn’t know what to do or say.  I do need a friend, and I’ve already shared much of the story with you.  Are you sure you don’t mind?”  He wanted my help.  I didn’t know whether to be happy or depressed.  Helping Max might mean reuniting him with Julie.  Being his friend could rule out the possibility of anything romantic ever happening between us.  An image of Brad popped into my mind.  Ultimately, I had to choose to be Max’s friend or to lose him again – maybe forever.  I decided that Max as a friend was better than no Max at all.

“I don’t mind.  I consider it an honor.”

He smiled for the first time since he’d first mentioned Julie.  “Great.  Let’s go somewhere and catch up on old times.  Maybe that will cheer me up for a while.”

I suddenly remembered that I was meeting Olivia for lunch.  “I need to make a phone call first,” I told Max as I reached into my purse for my cell phone.  “Excuse me for a moment.”

I called Olivia’s number.  I knew she wouldn’t mind.  This was Max after all.  She picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Hello?  If this is Kat, you better be on your way to the Taco House.”

“Olivia, it is Kat.  I have a huge favor...”

“Katrina...How many times have you canceled on me?  I’m not forgiving you this time.”

“Please listen!” I told her.  “I’m at Hurricane Gardens.  I’m talking to Max.  He wants me to go somewhere with him.  We can go out some other time.”

“Fine!  You go out with Max.  I thought you were maturing.  I guess I was wrong.”  Olivia was not happy with me.

“It’s just lunch, Olivia.  I’ll buy you dinner at Taco House later – or wherever you want.  Don’t be so dramatic.”  You would think I owed her something.

“Do what you want, Kat.  You always do anyway.  I don’t think you’ll ever figure out what being a friend means.”  I heard a click, and the phone went dead.

“If you can’t make it, I understand,” Max said over my shoulder.

“Oh, no.  That’s not it.  I can go.  I’m free – no one’s tying me down.”  Still, I felt a twinge of guilt.

We walked to the parking lot.  Max headed for a white and rusted old Camaro.  My Accord sat across from it.  “You might not want to ride in my old car,” Max said.

I glanced from my car to his.  A beat up old Camaro never looked so good.  “I’ll ride with you, but I should drop my car somewhere safe.  Will you follow me back to my apartment?”

“Sure, just lead the way.”

He followed me.  When I pulled into the apartment complex and parked, he parked beside me and got out of his car.  “Kensington Villas?  You’ve come a long way since high school.  They’ll probably tow my car away if I leave it here too long.”

“Does that mean you’d like to see my apartment?  I live on the ground floor.  It’ll only take a minute.”  My apartment was clean, so I didn’t mind showing it to him.

“I was wondering if we could just talk here?  My house reminds me too much of Julie, and my dad’s house...well, I just don’t want to go there.  Would you mind?”  Was he kidding?  I’d waited more than half my life to have Max come into my home.

“Whatever you want to do is fine.  I want you to be comfortable.”  I was trying to conceal my glee.

Once inside, Max looked around a bit, and then we sat down on my sofa to talk.  I thought we were going to talk about Julie, but he asked me about Ben.  I hesitated, and Max said, “We can talk about me later.  I’d like to get my mind off Julie for a while.  I’d like to hear what you’ve done since high school.”

“Okay,” I said reluctantly.  “But I usually don’t discuss Ben with anyone.”

“If I’m going to spill my heart for you, you can do the same for me,” he said.

He was right.  If I couldn’t open up about Ben, how could I expect him to talk to me about Julie?  I leaned back on the couch and shut my eyes.  Surprisingly, I could see Ben clearly.  I hadn’t really thought about him in years, but now everything was replaying in my mind.  I found myself sharing the whole story with Max, and even as I droned on relentlessly, he listened wholeheartedly.

Chapter 14

College was certainly not like high school.  First, I had never had to stand in line to register in high school – never mind the money I was shelling out.  It was a cold December day in 1980, and there were many things that I would have enjoyed more.  But I had promised myself that I would start college in January, so I withstood the tedious line.  I had already delayed entering college for more than a year, and I knew I might never go if I kept putting it off.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to major in, but I was leaning towards English.  My father kept telling me that I could never make a living as a writer, but I didn’t believe him.  For now, I was listing myself as a general degree seeking student.  In two years I would graduate from Foster Community College with my Associates Degree.  After that, I could transfer to Fort McRee College (which was in Foster’s Bank) or The University of West Florida (which was in nearby Pensacola) and eventually get my Bachelor’s Degree.

I finally made it to the front of the line.  An attractive young black woman motioned for me, and I walked up to her window and handed her my registration form.  She typed some things into a computer terminal, and then she put several marks on my form.  She pushed the form across her desk and said, “The composition class you requested is full.  I have another opening for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from eight until eight-fifty in the morning.”

“I guess that’s okay,” I said.  I had tried to avoid 8 AM classes, but I needed to take a writing class.

“Also, Introduction to Data Processing is full – all the classes.  Do you have a second choice?”

“No...I’m new at this.  What do I need to do?”  I needed to go to college full time to receive financial aid.

“If you need to be a full-time student, you’ll have to make another choice and come back.”

“Stand in line again?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so.  You’ll actually need two new choices.  French I is full, too.  Unless you want to have an evening class.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll find something else.”

In the end, I managed to register for Composition I, Accounting I, Psychology I, Music Humanities, and Tennis, but only after a total in-line wait of two and a half hours.

The book store wasn’t any better.  I could not find any used books – only new ones, and I had to pay for books out of my own pocket.  I had to stand in another line, and I wound up paying almost two-hundred dollars for six books.

Since high school, I had been working at Kmart, and I continued to work there until the semester started.  I worked at the service desk – making only three-twenty-five an hour.  Everyone hated to see me go, but I knew I couldn’t do well in school and work a full time job.  Since I still lived at home, I could afford to quit.  On my last day, the store manager and some of my coworkers took me to lunch.

Olivia and I hadn’t really kept in contact now that high school was over.  She was still pursuing a career at Mac’s – in management.  I saw her on occasion.  She was living in an apartment with one of her coworkers – Jenna – and they seemed to be doing well.

Olivia was dating a guy named Chris that she met at the dog track.  Chris worked at one of the betting windows.  He became interested in Olivia because she didn’t bet on the dogs; she just went because she loved to watch them race.  Honestly, Olivia couldn’t bet on the dogs – she was only nineteen.  Jenna was twenty-five, and she always managed to sneak Olivia in without much fuss.  Jenna sometimes blew her entire paycheck in one night, but Olivia never spent one penny on gambling.  Olivia’s extraordinary ability to refrain from gambling fascinated Chris.  I had never met Chris, but he completely charmed Olivia.  Back then, I imagined that they would someday marry and live happily ever after.

As for me, I had given up on casual sex and revolving boyfriends.  I had outgrown my crush on Max (I thought), and I decided it was time to take life seriously for a change.  College was going to help me launch my new life, and one day I would find someone to share my new life with.  I was in no hurry; at nineteen, my life was just starting.

My first day of college was not nearly as stressful as past first days of school had been.  The semester started on a Tuesday.  I soon learned several things.  First, you must come at least an hour early to find a parking spot that is within two miles of your first class.  Second, never give up the parking spot you find.  Even if all of your other classes are clear across campus, you should not move your car.  Stay there all semester if at all possible because you’ll never find one that close again.  Finally, in college you no longer have teachers.  They are instructors, professors, or doctors – but never teachers.

My first class – accounting – was at eight in the morning.  Mrs. Brooks – a thin, blonde, middle aged woman with very little patience – was the instructor.  She revealed to us on that first day that she had just passed the CPA exam, and she explained – for those students majoring in accounting – that the test was extremely hard.  She then added that her class would be a breeze for those of us who came to class, did our work, and paid attention.

There wasn’t a single familiar face in my accounting class, but I no longer grew anxious in a crowd of strangers.  Sitting beside me was a very charming blonde.  She was older than me, but she seemed younger – maybe sixteen or seventeen.  Her name was Loni Patterson, and she had recently married her childhood sweetheart.  On my other side was Larry Wilcox.  Larry was a disabled Vietnam veteran.  He’d lost several inches off one of his feet, and he wore a special built up shoe.  He was almost repulsive: his black hair was oily and it matted down on top of his head and across his face.  I’m sure he hadn’t washed it in weeks.  His clothes were dirty, too, but he seemed to be clean – at least he didn’t smell bad.  In time, I would learn to overlook Larry’s disability and his unattractiveness.  In spite of those things, I grew to despise him.  He constantly made irritating remarks to me, and he repeatedly tried to get me to go out with him – even though he was forty-five years old.   He was also an unscrupulous rogue, and Mrs. Brooks finally threw him out of class for copying my final exam.

Psychology was at 10am.  Dr. Harrison had the daunting task of teaching a class full of students who had grown up on drugs, free sex, and Vietnam about the workings of the mind and its different abnormalities.  Dr. Harrison – a small, charismatic man in his forties – maintained his psychology practice and only taught one class per semester.  I was lucky to be in his class.  He was a remarkable educator, and by the end of the semester he would completely reshape my views on mental illness and its treatment.

Once again, strangers surrounded me, but Dr. Harrison had a solution.  Beginning in the back of the classroom, he had each of us stand up and tell a few things about ourselves.  After the groans died down, I discovered that there were some very interesting people in my class.  Jerome was a retired house painter who wanted to teach mathematics.  Tanya was a semi-pro tennis player.  Michelle had grown up in Paris.  Simon arrived in America as a Vietnamese refugee.  Patrick claimed to be the world’s biggest Alice Cooper fan.  Ben announced that he was wanted for murder in Alaska.  After everyone acted appropriately shocked, he confessed that he had indeed murdered a Kodiak bear with the help of his father and his best friend.  The classroom erupted in laughter.

From that point on, I couldn’t concentrate on anyone else’s remarks.  My own were vague and unremarkable – and unmemorable.  Ben had made an impression on me, and I became determined to get to know him.  I needed someone clever and spontaneous in my life.

After class, I tried to meet Ben, but his new fans were already surrounding him.  He seemed a little uneasy with all that attention.  I decided I would wait until a more opportune moment to make his acquaintance.

I had my other three classes on Wednesday, beginning with composition.  The classroom was enormous, and there were over a hundred students in my class.  Dr. Cozen stood way up front and spoke through a microphone.  He was an older man – about sixty – but he was rather handsome.  His hair was entirely gray, his eyes were sky blue, and his smile could melt the heart of even a young girl of nineteen.  Dr. Cozen would become my mentor during my two years at FCC.  He would also become my friend.

Surprisingly in a class of this size, I recognized someone.  It was Ben from my psychology class.  He was sitting just two seats away.  After class was over, I walked over to him.

“You’re Ben, right?”

“That’s me.  Hey, you’re in my psychology class, aren’t you?  Let me think...Katrina maybe?”  I couldn’t believe he knew my name.

“Right!  How did you remember that?” I asked in amazement.

“I always make it a point to remember people I want to get to know.  That’s why I’m sitting here.  I saw you when I came in.”  He had a charming smile, and when he smiled, his brown eyes crinkled.

“Okay, Ben.  We’ve met.  What now?”  I completely forgot the music class I needed to get to.

“Let me buy you lunch after my next class – if your schedule is clear,” he offered.

I suddenly remembered where I needed to be.  “Next class – I almost forgot.  I’ve got Music Humanities with Gerald, whoever that is.  I’d better run.  I’ll meet you in the cafeteria at ten-thirty.”

“I’ll be waiting.  First, I’ve got Chemistry with Dr. Noble.  I’ll see you soon.”  Ben turned and walked away down the aisle.  I was beginning to like college quite a bit.

Music Humanities was not going to be one of my favorite classes.  The course focused on classical music, and I had little interest in symphonies, operas, or concertos.  Mr. Gerald – the instructor – was an odd character.  He wore his orange-red hair in a Dutch Boy cut, and he had a bushy orange mustache.  He wore brightly colored silk smoking jackets to class, and on a daily basis he forced us to listen to recordings of Handel, his favorite composer.

I walked into the cafeteria at ten-fifteen.  A few students were sitting around talking, but most of the tables were empty.  While looking around for a place to wait on Ben, I noticed that Ben was already there.   As I approached the table, Ben stood up and smiled.

“Hey.  I see you made it.  You’re even early.”  He pulled out a chair for me to sit in.

After Ben bought us some lunch, we spent the next two hours talking together.  He acted like such a gentleman, but I believed that he liked me.  When twelve-thirty arrived, I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to get to my tennis class.  Ben asked me for my phone number, and he promised to call me later.

As I left the cafeteria, I thought about how cute he was.  His dark brown hair was shoulder length and layered.  His sexy brown eyes twinkled when he talked, and his eyelashes were long and lush.  His lips were full and sensual, and he had a cute little snub of a nose.  His body was lean and muscular, and he had a deep, dark tan.  He was – without a doubt – the best looking guy that had ever shown me attention.  I just hoped he was sincere.

My tennis instructor was a small oriental man.  Jimmy Chen was a former state champ on the tennis circuit, and he would prove to be a methodical, consistent coach – expecting only the best from his students.  He and I connected immediately, and I endeavored to do my best and to make Jimmy proud of me.

That afternoon, Ben called me at home.  He asked me out to dinner that night, and I accepted.  I was giddy and excited as I planned what I would wear.  I picked out an ivory cable-stitched sweater and a pair of black tailored tweed pants.  I also wanted to wear my best lined jacket – it was cold outside.  It was in a storage box in the bottom of my closet, so I started moving things out to get to it.

I found the box, and removed my jacket.  Underneath was a scrapbook I had made during high school.  Without a thought, I took the book out and flipped through it.  Most of the pictures in it were of my friends: Aurelia, Dominique, Olivia, Laura, Felicia, Mona; also Jack, Wayne, and Roger.  There were several pictures of Max as well.  These included photos taken at Bons Copains’ meetings and snapshots my friends or I took in secret.  Before, I would have slipped away into a world of nostalgia, but today it wasn’t happening.  I knew right away that I was finally over Max.  As good as he looked to me, I was still over him.  Ben was my new beginning.  Max was in the past at last.

Ben picked me up that evening.  He came in and met my parents.  We went out to eat at the Waffle House, and I learned that Ben’s favorite foods were bacon, bacon, and bacon.  I’ve never been big on breakfast, but I had an omelet just the same.  After dinner, Ben showed me his apartment. We sat on his bed and talked for hours.  Ben was something of a kook, but he was a likable kook.  He kept me laughing most of the evening, and the hours just drifted away.  He took me home at midnight, and we lingered for a while at the front door.  Our first kiss was nothing to brag about – just a quick peck on the cheek.  Then he left me standing on the doorstep expecting something more.

Over the next few months, Ben and I would spend almost every day together.  We became great friends, and I kept telling myself that we would never be more than that.  Ben had several habits that I hated, and I knew he would never give them up.  At the same time, he was very critical of some of my behavior, and I stubbornly held on to those quirks that he hated most.

Inevitably, near the end of the summer our relationship blossomed into more than friendship.  Ben took me out to the beach one day, and he told me he had a surprise for me.  He handed me a bucket of sand and a sand sifter.  “Your surprise is in here,” he said, pointing to the bucket of sand.

I carefully began sifting through the sand, and I feigned surprised when I found a ring close to the bottom of the bucket.  My excitement turned to aggravation when I realized the ring came from one of those quarter toy machines that are always in the front of department stores.  Before I could exact my revenge, Ben presented me with a genuine ring – a quarter-karat, marquis, diamond engagement ring.  He proposed on bended knee there in the sand, and I accepted.  We planned to marry in December.

Olivia could not get excited about my news.  She was happy for me, but she and Chris had recently split up, and she was in a depression over him.  Olivia was usually a cheerful bright person, but she could get melancholy and distraught when things were going rough.  I tried to bring Olivia out of her slump, but she wouldn’t budge.  I managed to get a couple of chuckles, but when we hung up, I knew she was still feeling despondent.

Next, we told our parents about our plans.  My parents were a little concerned that Ben was six years older than me, but they did not try to interfere.  Ben’s parents lived in Ohio, but I had spoken to them over the phone.  They seemed distant and somewhat cold, but they told us that they were happy for us.  They planned to come to the wedding.

Somewhere around this time, Ben decided that he was going to change me into the perfect fiancée.  I wasn’t a skinny little petite woman, and suddenly that was what Ben wanted.  Every day, he started criticizing my eating habits and urging me to exercise more.  His unexpected faultfinding prompted me to start pointing out things I didn’t like about him.  It was beginning to look as if we might call the wedding off because neither of us would give in.  To Ben, my critiques were merely nit-picking.  On the other hand, I felt Ben had no right to judge me by my weight.  After all, I hadn’t gained any weight since I had met him.

The battle finally ended when I brought up Ben’s marijuana habit.  Ben rarely smoked pot around me, but I knew he frequently smoked it at other times.  When I objected to that, Ben immediately apologized for making my weight an issue.  He assured me that he loved me the way I was.  He further declared that he’d only started the argument because he was nervous about getting married.  I should have stuck to my guns and refused to marry Ben if he kept smoking, but I was too much in love to do something so intelligent.  We were once again a happy, loving couple.

Ben and I married on December 16.  We had a lovely church wedding with about fifty people in attendance.  I wore a white satin gown with pearl and lace trim.  Ben wore a dark blue tuxedo with a burgundy cummerbund.  Olivia was my Maid of Honor, and Ben’s father was his Best Man.  Ben’s parents paid for our wedding pictures and for a man to videotape the event.  Ben paid for everything else.

Life as Mrs. Benjamin Bellanova was blissful at first.  I was out of college for the Christmas break, and I loved staying home in our apartment.  I saw very little of Ben, but our time together was erotic and exciting.  We were immensely happy, and we saw no reason why our happiness would ever end.

Although Ben had a modest income from investments he had made before I met him, he decided that he needed a full time job to support his new wife.  He took a position as an artist at a silk-screening factory, and he made a fair salary.  Ben was a very talented artist, but he wanted to work in communications.  He had no desire to make art his career, so he planned to continue college in January while working at the factory at night.

Just before our January classes began, Ben invited some friends over for a party.  All of these people were strangers to me, and all of them were into marijuana and other drugs.  I spent much of the night in our bedroom, but periodically Ben would drag me into the other room to show me something or someone.  By the end of the night, there were people passed out all over our living room.  I locked myself into our bedroom and cried myself to sleep on our queen-sized bed.

By morning, I was all cried out and ready to fight.  The sight that met me in the living room was horrifying.  Someone had puked all over my beautiful teal, paisley-print, French provincial sofa leaving an indelible stain to mark the occasion.  I found cigarette burns on all of my pillows and cushions. I also found a collection of marijuana seeds in ashtrays and embedded in the furniture.  All I needed now was a little dirt – and there was plenty of that all over the kitchen floor.  Everyone had left – including Ben.  With no one to fight with, I used my anger to make the apartment spotless.

Around noon, the phone rang.  A man on the line asked if I was Mrs. Bellanova and then proceeded to tell me that Ben had been in an accident.  He was in stable condition at Memorial Hospital, and he was asking for me.  Forgetting my anger and frustration, I quickly left for the hospital.

The receptionist at the Information Desk told me that Ben was being moved from emergency to a semi-private room on the third floor.  I took the elevator and arrived at the room just as the orderly was arriving with Ben.  Ben was happy to see me, and he assured me that he wasn’t severely injured – the doctors just wanted to keep an eye on him for the night.  Feeling much relieved, I waited patiently in the hall while Ben was being transferred from the gurney to the hospital bed.  A policeman was approaching from the direction of the elevator, so I moved over to allow him to pass.  Instead, he looked at the room number and then stood staring impatiently into Ben’s room.  “Are you looking for someone, Officer?” I asked.

“I’m just here to speak with Mr. Bellanova,” he replied curtly.

“I’m his wife,” I said.  Why did he want to speak to Ben?

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.  I will need to speak with your husband alone for a few minutes.”  It was clear the officer wasn’t going to tell me why he was there, and it was clear that he wanted me to leave.  I took the elevator back down to the waiting room, but I continued to speculate on what was going on with Ben.

I took a seat in an oversized chair.  The room was rather large and the lights were dim, so at first I didn’t see the young woman sitting alone.   I noticed her when I heard muffled sobs coming from the corner of the room.  Her head was bent over in her hands and her bright red hair hung down into her lap.  It was obvious that she was crying, and her body jerked with each sob.  I wanted to console her, but I had no idea what to do or say.  So I sat and watched her and did nothing.

After a few minutes, a nurse came into the room and went over to the weeping young woman.  The girl looked up at the older nurse who was carrying some items in her hands.  The young woman’s face was streaked with mascara trails and her eyes were ringed in black.  I could see that she was about my age and she appeared very fragile.  I thought that she was too young to carry whatever burden was now weighing her down.

When the nurse began to speak, I overheard what was said.  “Mrs. Cartwright, here are your husband’s things.  I’m very sorry for your loss.  Can I help you in anyway?  Do you need a ride home?”

The young woman took the items from the nurse.  It looked like a wallet and a key ring.  “Is this all?” the girl asked.  “Can I see him?  Please, I really need to see him…”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you really don’t want to see.  Once arrangements have been made, he’ll be cleaned up and you’ll be able to see him then.”

“But doesn’t someone have to…identify the body?”

“His father has done that so you wouldn’t have to, Mrs. Cartwright.  In your condition, you don’t need to…see…um…you don’t need so much stress.  Please, let me get someone to take you home.”

“Is Travis’ father still here?  I can go with him, I guess.”

Travis?  Cartwright?  Was this young woman related to Travis in some way?  Or was I just reading things into it?

As if to answer my questions, Travis’ father came hurriedly into the room.  I knew he was Travis’ father; I had seen them together a few times when we were still in school.  Mr. Cartwright was looking at the floor and he almost ran straight into me.  I moved just in time and he looked up.  A look of recognition crossed his face as he met my eyes.  “Aren’t you Katrina Kipling?” he asked.  I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and he looked ragged.

“Yes, that’s me.  Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes.  Are you here about Travis too?”  He had a puzzled expression on his face.

“Is Travis here, too?  My husband was just admitted to the hospital.  I’m here with him.”

Just then the young woman interrupted.  “Mr. Cart…Dad.”  And with that, she burst into a fresh round of tears.

Mr. Cartwright put his arms out in front of him as if to push her away.  “Charlotte, I’m not your dad, and I can’t talk to you right now.”  Now I saw tears welling up in his eyes.  “Travis is gone…and…and…”

“…and I’m not,” she sobbed.  “I know.  I wish it was me instead!”

Travis gone?  Oh my God, was Travis dead?  What had happened?  I wanted to know, but I could see the pain both of these people were going through, so I just stood there.  I waited for Mr. Cartwright to console the girl – probably Travis’ wife – and assure her that he didn’t wish she was dead instead of Travis.  But he just glared at her and said nothing.  She clutched the items in her hands against her chest and then ran out of the waiting room towards the elevators.  Mr. Cartwright didn’t try to stop her.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” I finally managed.  “Travis is…”  I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Dead,” Mr. Cartwright said matter-of-factly.  “He was killed in a car accident this morning.  Charlotte, his wife of about three days, was driving the car.  She’s only eighteen and she’s only been driving for a short time.  They said it wasn’t her fault, but…”  There was hurt and anger in his eyes.

I was still at a loss for words.  I could feel tears stinging my eyes.  Travis was never my favorite person, but he had been a part of my life.  And he was so young.  The whole thing seemed so unfair.  Then slowly my brain grasped what Mr. Cartwright had said: Travis had died in a car accident.  Ben had also been in a car accident, and a policeman was questioning him.  “Please, God,” I prayed, “don’t let Ben be the one that killed Travis.”

I wouldn’t be getting the story from Mr. Cartwright.  He apologized and said he had to be going.  I moved out of his way and he rushed on towards the exit.  I couldn’t move for a few moments while the whole thing turned round and round in my head.  I finally decided that I had to talk to Ben.

As I turned to go back upstairs, the red haired young woman appeared in front of me.  She still had tears streaming down her face, but she was a little more in control than she had been a few moments before.  “You knew Travis?” she asked me.

“Y-Yes…we were in high school together.”

“I’ve only known Travis for a few months.  We fell in love so fast, and we were only married three days ago.  And now….now I’ve killed him.”  The sobs came pouring out again.  I found myself putting my arms around her and trying to comfort her.  She seemed so much like a little girl.

“You didn’t kill him.  It was an accident.  Mr. Cartwright said it wasn’t your fault,” I said in an effort to calm her.

“He…he said that?” she pulled away and for the first time looked hopeful.  “He was acting like he blamed me for the whole thing.  The policeman told me that the other driver was using drugs.  He said I couldn’t have avoided the accident…The other car came out of nowhere.  It ran the red light and plowed right into the passenger door where Travis was sitting…”

I was getting scared now.  I knew Ben had been high all the night before and I knew him well enough to know that he had probably been high when he left home this morning.  It was Ben that killed Travis!  I didn’t know what to do.  I wanted to run to Ben, but Charlotte was holding onto my arms tightly.  I also didn’t want her to know that it was my husband that killed her husband.

She kept talking as I struggled with my feelings.  “And what am I going to do now?  I’m six weeks pregnant.  Oh, Travis, why did you have to die?”

She was becoming hysterical now, and I desperately wanted to get away from her.  I was toying with the idea of just pushing her away and running as fast as I could to the elevator when the nurse from earlier came up to us.  She gently pulled Charlotte off of me and said, “Come on, Mrs. Cartwright.  I’m off duty now and I’m going to take you to your mother’s house.  You need to get some rest and take care of that baby you’re carrying….”  They walked away with the nurse still consoling her.  As soon as they were out of sight, I headed towards the elevators.

I paused just outside of Ben’s room.  My hands were clammy and I was shaking like a leaf.  I finally went in the room, and that’s when I realized that the police officer was still there.  I was about to leave again when the officer said, “You don’t have to go, Mrs. Bellanova.  We’re done with all the questions.  I was just about to leave.”

“Is Ben under arrest?” I asked.

“No, ma’am.  Your husband wasn’t driving the car.  He was just a passenger.  I just needed him to tell me what happened.  Two people dead because of drugs.  It’s a shame.”  The officer shook his head and walked out of Ben’s room.

I was so relieved that I thought I was going to faint.  I found my way to the chair next to Ben’s bed and practically fell into it.  Ben reached out and took my hand.  I looked over at him and he had tears in his eyes.

“This guy Jim was taking me over to his house so we could get some more pot.  We were both already high as a kite, but I went along willingly.  We were just driving along, talking and laughing.  The next thing I know, we’re plowing into another car.  Jim had ran the red light and he was going really fast.  The other car was a small one, and the side of it just crumpled.  Jim went flying through the windshield and there was blood everywhere.  I don’t know what kept me from going through the windshield, but I didn’t.  I did hit my head on it, but it didn’t break.  The officer told me that Jim and a passenger in the other car were both killed.  Kat, I was so scared.  I just knew I was going to die…”

I was so happy that Ben was alive, but at the same time I was very angry.  Drugs had caused this senseless accident that had left two men dead, a young girl a widow, and a baby that would be born and never know his father.  I pulled my hand away from Ben.  “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” I said.  “I hope you see now what using drugs can do.  Ben, you have to stop smoking pot.  Next time, you or I could be killed.”

“I know, I know.  I can’t think of anything else.  I’m giving it up.  I’m never going to touch the stuff again.”

I wanted to believe him, and I decided that I had to.  I loved him.  I took his hand in mine and leaned over and kissed him.

Later in the day, I told Ben about the scene in the waiting room, and I told him that I had known Travis.  He felt even worse after I told him everything, but I decided that knowing might help to cement his decision to give up pot.

The next day, I spent a lot of time thinking about Travis and the moments in my past that we had spent together.  My memories of Travis were not entirely good, but for some reason I felt a certain amount of guilt over his death.  Ben was also guilt-ridden over Travis’ death.  He’d come to realize that the accident wasn’t his fault, but he kept thinking that maybe Jim wouldn’t have been driving that morning if it hadn’t been for that party.  We comforted each other as best we could, but neither of us was very good at it.

Ben was released a couple of days later.  I wanted him to continue resting, but he insisted that we had to attend both Jim’s and then Travis’ funerals.  Jim’s funeral was the day after Ben’s release while Travis’ was two days later.

Jim’s funeral was small – only six people showed up.  The only flower arrangement was from Ben and me.  The service was short and very standard – the pastor officiating had clearly never met Jim or anyone who knew him.

On the other hand, Travis’ funeral was attended by nearly a hundred people.  There were a few people from school, but most of them were from his family and his church family.  There were mountains of flowers throughout the chapel where his body was on display.  I watched Travis’ family and I was happy to see that Charlotte was being escorted by Mr. Cartwright.  Apparently he had made his peace with Travis’ death and was trying to build a bridge with his daughter-in-law.

Just before the funeral service began, I went up to take one last look at Travis Cartwright.  His body was lying against a background of white satin.  This wasn’t the boy who had bumped into me with his bike.  Nor was this the guy who took Birdie for a wild bike ride.  Travis had become a man, a stranger I barely recognized.  I solemnly walked away and didn’t look back.  The Travis in that highly polished casket wasn’t the same one I had known.

After Travis’s funeral, Ben turned his life around.  He got rid of everything that reminded him of marijuana, including his party friends.  He promised himself that he was done with drugs, and I prayed that he could keep that promise.  He also quit college and took a job with a small advertising firm, the TouchPoint Agency, as a staff artist.  He began doing paintings and pencil sketches at home.  It was hard to believe that he once hated his artistic abilities.

It was during this time that our marriage began to flourish.  I was in college, Ben was working and creating, and our life was happy.  We planned a bright future together, and our love seemed to grow more and more every day.  We talked of children, but neither of us really wanted any.  We both feared that we would make lousy parents.  Our life was just too hectic for us to think of having a baby.  Besides, we had plenty of years in front of us, and a baby might make more sense when we were older.

Time passed by so quickly that we were soon celebrating our second anniversary.  I had just finished my first year at The University of West Florida, and we decided to spend Christmas in Ohio with his parents.  We had never been to Ohio, and the thought of staying with his parents petrified me.  I hardly knew the Bellanovas.  They had only visited us once since our wedding, and the visit only lasted a few hours – they were on their way to Disney World.  Ben assured me that everything would be fine.  After all, his parents were only human.

The Bellanovas lived in Upper Arlington, one of the nation’s first planned communities.  It seemed to be a pleasant town, rife with vintage homes from the early 1900’s.  I began to relax a bit as I watched the beautiful houses roll by the window of our rented car.  However, my stress returned and doubled once we arrived at the Bellanova home, or should I say mansion.  Bordering the driveway on both sides were perfectly shaped hedges and flourishing shade trees.  The grass – although brown and withered by the December weather – was nicely kempt and trimmed.  But the house was the pièce de résistance.  Ben told me that the home was in the Georgian style, but I wasn’t sure what this meant.  It looked old, and the two-story building was constructed out of red brick.  Four large bay windows lined the front of the house, and the other windows throughout the house were of various shapes and sizes.  There were chimneys on each end of the estate’s slate roof.  Huge white columns and an arched window adorned the building’s facade at the stairs that lead to the front entry.  The house was remarkably beautiful, but I had never realized that Ben came from such a well-to-do family.  Ingesting this new knowledge was more breathtaking than the house and the estate combined.  Ben’s family was rich!

Of course, I knew Ben’s family had more money than my own.  After all, Ben did have money to invest while he was going to college, and he was now footing the bill for my college education.  Before Ben and I married, I had to depend on financial aid.  Still, I had never thought of the Bellanovas as being rich.  Until now.

Christie, the downstairs maid, greeted us at the door.  A young, attractive brunette with drawn, stern features, Christie was properly polite and exceedingly demure.  Her modest black dress barely disguised her enticing, curvaceous shape.  A white apron tied tightly around her midsection only emphasized the image she seemed to be trying to hide.  She led us into the foyer and took our coats.

Pamela Bellanova – Ben’s mother – met us in the living room.  Dressed in a baby blue baggy sweater and tight khaki Capri slacks, she looked like Laura Petrie greeting Rob at the door after a long day.  Her brown hair – bobbed off just below the ears – curled towards her thin pointed face.  Her ice-blue eyes immediately shot daggers in my direction, although she pretended to be most happy to see me.  Then, after proclaiming that she had missed Ben severely, she placed her fingertips on his shoulders and gently pecked him once on each cheek.  A grand homecoming if I ever saw one.

A little later, Harold Bellanova joined us.  Immaculately dressed in a gray knit suit, Ben’s father was the epitome of a corporate executive.  He wore his gray hair close cut except on top where it whipped around and formed a large, loose curl in front.  He looked like an older, less defiant version of James Dean.  He greeted his son every bit as warmly as Pamela did by stoically putting out his hand for Ben to shake.  Ben enthusiastically grabbed hold of his father’s hand, but Harold was quick to end this wanton show of affection.

Everyone sat, and Ben and I had some refreshments.  With each moment that passed, I felt increasingly uncomfortable.  Ben’s parents were stiff and rigid, and for once I yearned for one of my parents’ knockdown, drag-out fights.  A little emotion, if you please.

Upstairs maid Jillian arrived to show us our bedroom.  Another voluptuous woman in an unflattering black uniform, Jillian had flowing blond hair and large, jutting breasts.  For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that Mr. Bellanova hired these women for more than maid service, but when I glanced back at old Harold I knew better.  A stolid man such as this probably found sexy women and sex as too adventurous.  Ben was probably a product of Harold’s first – and only – sexual experience.  Clearly, Pamela wasn’t a fulfilled woman, and the maids looked as though they had not recently been with a man either.  I gave up my musings as Jillian ushered us back out into the foyer.

Now I had a chance to look at this mansion.  The inside was even more magnificent than the outside had been.  The exquisite decorating deserved recognition by Life Styles of the Rich and Famous.  Most of the furniture was handcrafted and clearly hundreds of years old.  Having no experience with quality furniture, I was unable to distinguish one style of chair from another, but I recognized the craftsmanship that had gone into the making of each piece.

The floors throughout the house were made of highly polished wood and they were lovely. While people of my social standing were using carpet to cover their – ewww – common wood floors and to measure their worth, the truly rich were showcasing the natural look of wood flooring.  My mother would have been aghast.  In selected areas – the living room, for instance – throw rugs added color and warmth to the traditional decor.  These were not the twenty-nine-ninety-nine area rugs you might pick up at Kmart.  These were handmade Persian rugs, and they really came from the Middle East.

I also noticed the magnificent double staircases that led to the second floor.  Again, highly polished wood comprised the steps, the banister, and the second-story railings.  The staircases started on opposite sides of the foyer and wound themselves up to the next landing.  Between the two stairways sat a beautifully restored antique wash stand of solid pine that displayed an elegant white porcelain pitcher and wash bowl.

Antique furniture filled our bedroom.  A chestnut colored chifferobe stood along one wall.  There were four drawers on one side, and a built-in closet on the other.  The door to the closet held a long, beveled mirror.  A matching armoire rested along the windowed wall, and beside it sat a comfortable armchair.  The bed was the centerpiece of the room.  It was a handmade pine four-poster with a canopy of sheer cotton.  A patchwork quilt added to the homespun atmosphere, while a twill duvet lay underneath for snugly comfort.  Fluted tiffany floor-lamps sat on either side of the bed.  A solid pine French writing desk stood along the same wall as the bed, and an antique pine trunk on casters was resting against the foot of the bed.  Sheer throw swags and room-darkening wooden blinds adorned the windows.

You could find fine pieces of furniture throughout the house.  Most were English reproductions, and all of them were lovely.  I had a few favorites.  There was an English hutch with two glass doors and dovetail drawers that I fell in love with when I first stepped into the dining room.  I also lovingly admired a drop leaf table that resided in the tea room, and a handsome roll-top desk inhabiting the study.

Of course, I didn’t grasp all of these fine features in one day.  We spent two weeks in the Bellanovas’ home, and – although I saw many wonderful things – there were still parts of the house that I missed.  I visited at least half of the twelve bedrooms, three of the seven bathrooms, both – yes, both – kitchens, all the dining areas, the living room, the den, the study, and more, but the tea room was my favorite.

The tea room was my place to get away from the disapproving looks Mrs. Bellanova was constantly sending my way.  The room – rather small and intimate – held the drop leaf table and a few straight-backed, cushioned chairs.  A serving sideboard standing against one wall contained the tea service as well as napkins, sugar, and artificial creamer.  A windowed door with sheer lace curtains opened out into the loveliest garden I had ever seen.  In those early days of winter, holly bushes, snowdrops, and evergreen plants were cautiously cared for by a blithe old gardener who ensured that the garden was beautiful all year round.

Each day, I would sit at the table and lose myself in a daydream.  While the cold December wind kept me out of the garden, my fantasies would carry me inside.  The garden soon became a magical land, and each day I would find new adventures there.  It was during this time that Max entered my dreams again.

Why was I daydreaming about Max instead of my husband?  Once we arrived at the Bellanova home, Ben became a stranger to me.  Every morning he would go with his father to the office and leave me behind with Pamela the grim.  I had no idea why Ben was leaving me there, and I resented having to spend the day with a woman who loathed me.  Ben didn’t see that his daily absence was building a wall between us.  Matters were worse when he returned to their home every evening.  He spent all of his time with his parents, and he barely acknowledged that I was alive.  He was a totally different person from the Ben I had married.  He was becoming obstinate, cold, and indifferent.

The first few days when Ben disappeared, I tried to enjoy Pamela’s company.  I soon gave up the hope of ever having a civil conversation with her.  She was constantly talking down to me, correcting my diction and my grammar, and treating me like a child.  While searching for a hiding place, I accidentally came upon the tea room.  Christie the maid told me that the family seldom used the room because Mrs. Bellanova despised having guests and the living room proved more sensible for family teas.

On my first trip to the tea room, I opened the door and peeped out into the garden.  The icy wind soon sent me back inside, but not before I had a chance to admire all the beautiful winter plants.  I also noticed a cobbled path that led to a fountain in the center of the garden.  The fountain was not flowing, but I imagined how magnificent it must have looked in the summer.  Across from the fountain, a wooden swing hung from an arched trellis, and I longed to sit there and remember the not quite so fancy swing my parents had in their yard.  I wanted to remember the times I had shared our swing with my dog Lassie who had long ago left this world.

Back inside, I quickly warmed up with a mug of hot cocoa that Christie brought to me.  I envisioned myself back in the garden.  It was summer, and all the roses were in bloom.  The swing seemed suspended from the beautiful flowering bougainvillea that was growing around and concealing the arched trellis.  Crystal clear water was flowing in the fountain.  I rambled down the cobbled path, and in the distance I saw a man.  As I came closer, I saw that it was Max.  He held his hand out to me, and when I took it, we strolled through the garden together.  Christie interrupted before my fantasy could end.  Mrs. Bellanova wanted us to have lunch together in the solarium.  I glanced out the door and saw Max’s face smiling at me.  He would wait in the garden until I returned.

I met Max in my fantasy garden every day until we left for home.  By this time, there was a mile wide gorge between Ben and me, and I had little hope of it ever narrowing.  As we waved goodbye to Upper Arlington, I remember thinking that I would never have to visit the Bellanovas again.  Part of me already knew that my marriage was ending.

Somehow, Ben and I stayed together for another year.  Our blissful existence had ended, but neither of us would admit that our marriage was a bust.  We didn’t argue or fight; there wasn’t enough passion left for that.  We just aimlessly floated through the days, and we took turns staying up late at night to avoid unwelcome sexual overtures.

I don’t recall spending much time thinking about Max.  He was – as always – in the back of my mind, but I tried to keep him out of the forefront.  Mostly, I tried to excel in college so I could graduate and get a job.  I wanted to be able to take care of myself if I did decide to end my marriage.

After my graduation from UWF, things quickly got worse at our house.  I took a temporary programming job in Mobile, Alabama.  Every day I commuted sixty miles to and from work.  Ben complained about my job every waking moment.  He wanted me to quit, and that made me more determined to keep the job.  I had tried to find a position in Foster’s Bank, but jobs were hard to come by in a town of that size.

Two months after I took the job, Ben announced that his father had offered him a position with the family firm.  He was going to be their in-house advertising director, and he would one day take over the company when his father retired.  Of course, he wanted me to quit my job right away and move to Upper Arlington with him.  Of course, I wasn’t about to.  We were at an impasse.  Ben wouldn’t reconsider, and neither would I.  Two weeks passed without us speaking to one another.  Then, Ben broke the ice.

“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he announced one Wednesday morning.

“Are you serious?” I asked.  It would have been an understatement to say he surprised me.

“It’s time to end this war between us.  Why don’t you meet me at McGuire’s?  It’ll be like old times.  Can you be there by seven?”  He seemed almost like the old Ben.  I couldn’t resist his invitation.  I agreed to the time and place.

As usual with me, I arrived almost thirty minutes early.  I planned to get a table and have a glass of wine to relax.  Kathy – a tall gregarious blonde and one of our favorite servers – met me at the entrance.  She smiled – exposing all of her perfect white teeth – and said, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Too long,” I told her.  “I’ve really missed this place.”

She laughed.  “That’s the same thing your husband said.”

It surprised me to see Ben already there.  “Where is he?”

She pointed to a table in the back.  “Your favorite seat, where else?  If you’ll go on back, I’ll be there in a moment.”

I made my way to our table.  Ben looked up at me.  He was not alone.  A woman with short tightly permed hair had her back to me.  She was sitting in my chair.  Ben stood up and met me a few steps away from the table.

“Am I early?” I asked.

“No – well, maybe a little.  That’s okay.  Come on over here and sit down.  Let me introduce you to someone.”  He led me back to the table.  The woman with the permed hair turned around as we approached.

“Kat – is that you?” she asked in surprise.

I suddenly realized who she was.  “Laura!  Is it really you?”  It was most surprising to see her here.  Right after high school, Laura had gone full-on nuts about changing the world.  She’d given up her dream of becoming a lawyer, joined some environmental volunteer organization, and set out for some remote place in Alaska.  I guessed I’d never see her again.

“You two know each other?” Ben asked.

“Of course,” Laura answered.  “We’ve known each other since high school.”

The three of us sat down at the table.  Laura explained that she had lost faith in the organization she was working with when many of her efforts were thwarted by bureaucratic red tape.  She had then decided that she wasn’t as altruistic as she’d once believed and that someone else could save the world.  She just wanted to come back home.  Ben excused himself for a moment and left Laura and I alone to talk.  He seemed very annoyed that I knew Laura.  I could only guess at the reason why.

“When did you meet Ben?” I asked Laura.

“We’ve known each other for a while.  We met right here – at this table.  I was sitting here, and he joined me.  He said this was his favorite table and I would just have to share it.  He’s so cute and funny.  How do you know Ben?”

I knew from the look on her face that she felt something for Ben.  She was in for the shock of her life.  “He’s my...”

“Has the waitress been by?”  Ben interrupted me.  It almost seemed that he’d done it on purpose.

“No,” Laura said.  When she looked in Ben’s face, her eyes glowed like two bright little stars.

“Tell Laura how we know each other, Ben.”  She needed to know.  And if she and Ben had something going on, I needed to know.

“We met in college,” he said simply.  “A long time ago.  Back when I was reckless and carefree.”

“You were reckless and carefree?” Laura asked.  “That must have been long ago.  You’re so stable and down to earth now.  I can’t imagine you as reckless.”

Ben laughed.  “Just wait until you’ve known me awhile.  I’m not as steadfast as you might think.  Right, Kat?”

“Don’t let him fool you, Laura.  He comes from a long line of dependable, unwavering, stalwart men – and women.  You should meet his parents.  He’s falling right into his father’s footsteps.”  I had to let Laura know how well Ben and I knew each other.  I was beginning to believe that Ben planned to tell her that I was his wife sometime during the night.  I wanted the truth out right now.

“You’ve met Ben’s parents?”  The surprise showed on her face.  Turning to Ben she said, “Don’t they live in Ohio?”

Before Ben could lead her down another wrong turn, I jumped in.  “Yes, they do.  They have a lovely home in Upper Arlington.”

Ben interrupted.  “My parents do visit from time to time.”

He fell right into my clutches.  “Yes, Ben, and the first time I met them was at our wedding.”

Ben had a defeated expression on his face.  Laura’s expression was somewhat harder to describe.  I was certain that I was beaming a look of triumph, but I quickly put on a mock look of dismay.

“You really didn’t know, did you?” I said to Laura with feigned sympathy.  “Ben, you never told Laura that you have a wife?”

Neither of them spoke, but the look they exchanged told me all I needed to know.  They were lovers, and they were in love with each other.

For one brief second, I felt the wind leave my sails.  My marriage was over except for the formal decree.  I had lost my husband to a woman that had once been my best friend.  The second passed and I realized that I didn’t need the wind.  I had control of the oars, and I could go anywhere I wanted to go.  Laura had in fact done me a favor.  I stood up and turned to leave – eager to see where life would lead me.

Ben stood up, too.  “Where...where do you think you’re going?  We need to talk.”

“No, Ben.  This is one time that we do not need to talk.  We’ve said quite enough already.  I’ll leave you to Laura.  My lawyer will be in touch.”

“Kat, wait.”  It was Laura.  “I want you to know – I thought Ben was single.  Well, maybe I didn’t.  But I didn’t know he was married to you.  I’m...I’m sorry.”

I walked away from the table and never looked back.  It was the last time I saw Laura or Ben.  I assumed that they moved away together to Ohio or some place.  The lawyers handled our divorce, and I quickly put the past behind me.

I had been living with my parents during the divorce and still commuting to Mobile.  My dad was getting sicker, my mother was getting more annoying, and the long drives were getting tiresome.  I knew it was time for a change.  I took a day off work, picked up a copy of the want-ads, and started looking for something new.  Within the next few weeks, I moved into my own apartment and found a new job at Bigelow Imports.

Around this time, Olivia and I reestablished our friendship.  While married to Ben, I’d been reluctant to call Olivia.  As far as I knew, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since Chris, and I didn’t want to shove Ben down her throat.  Now that Ben was history, calling her didn’t seem so unnatural.  Of course, Olivia had avoided me, too.  She had her life to live, and she was busy living it.  Still, I needed to have Olivia in my life, and luckily she wanted me in hers as well.

As it happened, Olivia had been in a very serious relationship with a man named Rusty.  Until just recently, Rusty and Olivia had been living together in a small rented house in east Foster’s Bank.  She had been going to college part-time, but quit because they were planning to get married and have a house full of kids.  Then Rusty got a call from his ex-wife in Texas.  She had just found out that she had breast cancer, and the doctors said she might not live another six months.  She realized she still loved Rusty, and she just wanted him to know.  In less than a week, Rusty was in Texas, and Olivia was back at her mom’s house.  Apparently, Rusty still loved his ex-wife, too.

Olivia took the whole thing like a trooper, but she told me that she was through with men – at least for a while.  She was determined to concentrate on her career and possibly go back to college sometime in the future.  She was now working in the office of an accounting firm, but she dreamed of one day being a lawyer.  Losing Rusty had given Olivia a new determination in life, and I knew she was going to accomplish her dreams one day.  Not only would she become a lawyer, she would also have that husband and all the kids she wanted.  It was just going to take some time.

I also threw myself into my work and put men aside for the time being.  I did develop a small crush on Brad Hanover, my new colleague and mentor, but it was over in less time than it takes to say “I do.”  After all, Brad married anyone at the drop of a hat, and, besides that, he was more than ten years older than me.  Brad taught me almost everything he knew about programming, and I helped him get over three ex-wives.  Somewhere along the way we became great friends.

Max was always in my thoughts.  I kept quiet about this with Olivia.  She had never wholeheartedly jumped on the Max bandwagon to begin with, and she would be unhappy to discover that he was still hanging around – gathering dust inside my head.  Brad was different.  I told him all about Max.  Not all at once, but in little portions here and there.  He always listened intently – even if he’d heard the story before.  Sometimes I felt as if Max was really a part of my life when I talked about him.  At other times, I depressed myself by mentioning him so much.

Sometime after I moved out of my parent’s house, my dad started having a terrible time with his health.  He spent several months – from January until May – in the hospital.  I tried to spend as much time as possible with him.  I spent many nights reading him to sleep since he was often too sick to sit up and hold a book.  When he returned home, I visited less, but I called him often.  In August of that year, he passed away.  I was at work when my mother called.  For months after, I kept telling myself that I should have spent more time with him.  But life goes on, and I had to forgive myself.  I knew that Daddy had forgiven me long ago.

Four years after my divorce from Ben, I found out that Max had married.  It was at my ten year high school reunion.  I ran into – of all people – Mason Pearson, Max’s old neighbor and my old nemesis.  Of course, Mason couldn’t wait to tell me that Max had married about three or four years earlier.  I tried to act unconcerned, but I’m not sure I carried it off.  Mason soon found someone else to harass, and I stayed away from him for the rest of the evening.

Other than the Mason incident, I rather enjoyed my reunion.  Bill Fine was there, and he’d changed a lot since high school.  Thankfully he addressed me as Katrina instead of that annoying nickname Kitty-Kat.  He looked older, but he was still the class clown.  Diane Griffin showed up with her Navy husband – quiet, shy, and bespectacled just like Diane.  Alice Lawson told me that she was now a Marine Sergeant.  She was alone, but she showed me the engagement ring her fiancé had given her.  I missed Olivia and Aurelia, but I had been unable to persuade either of them to come to the reunion.

The reunion would be for the whole weekend.  Friday night was a casual event at a local nightclub.  Saturday night was the catered banquet and dance at a reception hall.  Sunday was a BBQ at Jeannie Molina’s beach house.  I decided to go to all three, although I was anxious about seeing Jeannie again.  She was now married and had two children, so I hoped she would be too busy to notice me.

When I walked into the bar on Friday night, I saw no one that I knew.  A tall, good-looking man immediately approached me.  He had dark brown hair and intense green eyes that I seemed to remember.

“Hi, Kat.  How are you?”  He said this as he threw his arms around me and squeezed all the breath out of me.

When he let me go, he must have recognized the mystified expression on my face.  “It’s Wes.  Wes Bonner.  Remember?”

Wes Bonner?  Of course, Wes Bonner!  Felicia’s old boyfriend.  I hadn’t thought about him in a long time.  “I knew it was you all the time, Wes,” I lied.  “You look wonderful.”  This was not a lie.

“Are you here alone?” he asked.

“Yeah.  How about you?  You don’t have Felicia stashed away somewhere, do you?”  I prayed that he didn’t.

“Felicia?  Haven’t thought about her in a few years.  I’m here alone.”  Must be my lucky night, I thought.

Wes and I found a table.  We talked for hours.  I had forgotten some of the good times we’d shared together.  Apparently, Wes hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Remember that Saturday we all went to the beach?  I will never forget that day.”  I did remember, and I wondered why Wes found it so unforgettable.

“It was Laura, Felicia, you, and me,” he continued.  “We bought some drinks and snacks and had a makeshift picnic.  Just me and three beautiful women.  What a fantastic day.”

“I remember we couldn’t swim much because of jelly fish,” I commented.

“Me, too.  Luckily no one got stung.  I would have hated to have to pee on someone.  I’d have hated it more if someone had to pee on me!”  He was laughing now.  “We had some fun back then.”

I agreed, and then I told Wes about Laura and Ben.  He was very sympathetic, even though I didn’t need him to be.  He told me that he recently divorced his wife, and he didn’t have a girlfriend.  My interest suddenly intensified, but I feared that his only interest was in nostalgia.

When the night ended, Wes walked me to my car.  He said he would see me the following night.  He paused a moment and then he bent down and kissed me.  I think we were both a little surprised, but we also seemed to like where this was leading.  I drove away dreaming about the rest of the weekend.

The following night was just as pleasant as the previous one.  Wes and I were inseparable.  While we chatted with other old friends, we always came back to each other.  We danced the evening away and we had our picture taken together.  Wes looked stunning in a black suit and tie; I was wearing an olive dress.  Even Mason’s little announcement about Max didn’t seem to bother me.  At least, not until later when I was at home alone.

I was going to meet Wes at his apartment on Sunday so we could drive together to the beach.  I couldn’t force myself to get out of bed.  I had dreamed about Max all night, and now I couldn’t get an image of him and his wife out of my head.  The nights with Wes had been fun, but Max was my reality.  It seemed that I had lost him forever now.  I called Wes and feigned a headache.  I promised to call him later.

In the afternoon, I started feeling a little better.  I called Olivia, and she came over so I could tell her about the reunion.  I told her about Wes, and she began wishing that she had gone just so she could have seen him.  I also told her about Mason and his big announcement, but if she noticed that it upset me, she didn’t let on.

A few days later, I spoke with Wes.  He wanted us to go out the following weekend.  I was already feeling that the magic had ended when the reunion did, but I agreed to meet him Saturday night for a few drinks at a bar called The Coral Reef.  Just before we hung up, Wes told me that his friend Gene was going to be there, too.  Wes hinted that Gene wouldn’t mind if I brought one of my friends along.  I didn’t commit to anything, but I knew Olivia would go if I asked her.

Olivia and I left for The Coral Reef at seven-thirty Saturday night.  The bar was on the beach and it would take us about twenty minutes to get there.  Along the way, Olivia primped in the visor mirror on her side of my car.  She looked fine to me, but she kept complaining about how horrible her hair looked.  After ten minutes, she turned the visor up and gave a loud sigh.  If she was expecting compassion from me, she was looking in the wrong place.

The Coral Reef looked like a giant piece of driftwood that had been carved into a building.  There were no windows, only knotty, saltwater-corroded boards and a swinging door that hung slightly askew.  The roof was rusty tin and nails.  The bar sat on the main corner of the only beach access road, and this helped bring in sun-worshippers, swimmers, surfers, and especially fishermen.  A decent live band brought in everyone else.  The place reached full capacity at about nine o’clock every night, although the tiny parking lot filled up long before that.  Olivia and I were lucky to stumble on an empty parking space near the highway.

Inside, The Coral Reef was exactly like every other two-bit bar in town.  People were drinking at the bar, at tables, at the jukebox, while playing pool, and while throwing darts.  Everyone else was heading to the restroom – some with a drink in their hand.  Olivia and I decided to join the people drinking at tables.  We found a table in the back room near the stage, and we order some drinks from a scantily clad waitress.

Before our drinks arrived, Wes and Gene showed up.  Gene was not at all what I had expected.  He was clearly from abroad – possibly from the Middle East.  Although his nose was large and somewhat protruding, Gene was rather good-looking.  His black hair hung just below his ears and his bangs swirled across his forehead.  Dark brown almond eyes were deep-set below two black, feathery eyebrows.  He had small, thin lips and pearly white teeth.  Gene was not tall, and he seemed a dwarf next to Wes.  He was trim and fit and he looked very sexy in his tight blue jeans and red polo shirt.

We had one drink, and Gene suggested that we drive down the beach.  I didn’t really care one way or the other, but Wes thought it was a great idea.  Olivia reluctantly agreed.

Outside, Gene approached a brand new cherry red Firebird.  He and Olivia slid into the backseat while Wes and I took the front.  We drove towards the beach and everyone was quiet.  Wes kept trying to take hold of my hand, but I cleverly stayed just out of reach.  I wondered what was going on between Olivia and Gene.

Just then, Olivia said, “Leave me alone.  Don’t ever touch me there again.”  She sounded angry.

Gene said, “What’s wrong with you?  Don’t you,” (with Gene’s accent, this was more like Don chew), “have any feelings?”

“Yes, I do,” Olivia answered.  “But I left them at home – under my pillow.”

“Under your pillow?  Why didj yew do dat?” Gene asked her.  Then he said to Wes, “We must turn round.”

“Why?” Wes asked.

“We must go back and get Olivia’s feelings.  Turn round.”  He sounded as though he really believed that Olivia could have left her feelings somewhere, and Olivia and I burst out laughing.

Gene suddenly became angry.  “Turn round, Wes.  I want to go home.  I no like these bitches.”  With his accent, it sounded like he said that he didn’t like the beaches, so Olivia and I burst out laughing again.

Even though it was funny, Gene’s anger concerned me.  I was ready to turn and go back now, and I felt certain that Olivia was, too.  “Take us back, Wes.  This is not working out.  I didn’t realize that this was that kind of date.  Olivia hardly knows Gene, and…Well, I don’t really know you either.”

Wes frowned.  “I’m really sorry you think I was up to something when I asked you out.  I like you.  As for Gene, he makes his own decisions.  I didn’t give him any ideas.”  Wes seemed genuine.  I wished I could care, but the more I was around him, the more I realized that I didn’t.

“Just take me back to the bar,” Olivia yelled from the backseat.

Gene shouted, “Wes, stop the car.”  Wes stopped the car and Gene said to Olivia and me, “Get out.”

“Wes, take us back to the bar.  This is your car,” I said anxiously.

“Actually, it’s not,” he said.  “The car belongs to Gene.  He wanted me to drive so he could talk to Olivia.”  By this time, we all knew the kind of talking Gene had in mind.

“Get out of my car,” Gene yelled.  “I don’t need two fat bitches making fun of me.  Get out.”

Wes tried to soothe Gene, “Come on, Gene.  We can drop them off at the bar.  You can drive and they can ride in the back.”

“I want them out of my car, and you are welcome to join them.  Now, everyone get out!”

“Make me,” Olivia said confidently.  “I’m not budging from this spot until you take us back to Kat’s car.  If you think you can haul me out, just try.”

Maybe Olivia intimidated Gene, or maybe he was all mouth and no action.  Whichever it was, he told Wes to drive and they delivered us safely back to my car.  No one spoke a word during the drive. After we got out, Wes followed me to my car and apologized over and over again.  I told him I wasn’t angry, but I also made it clear that I didn’t want to go out with him again.  Wes got back into Gene’s car and they drove away in a cloud of sand, leaving Olivia and me laughing at the whole fiasco.

That was the end of blind dates and barroom meetings for Olivia and me.  We both continued to date off and on, but neither of us was ever able to get serious about any of the men we dated.  The majority of them had limited interest in us, and that interest centered on the bedroom.  The few that were true gentlemen wanted deeper relationships than we could give them.  I had sworn off marriage, and Olivia was waiting until after she got her career in order.   Ten years quickly sneaked past us, and I feared that true love was going to elude both of us.

Chapter 15

“Olivia never knew the true reason that kept me unattached,” I said to Max as I finished my story.  “I couldn’t tell her that I still longed for you.  I couldn’t make her understand that Max Savage was the only man I would ever truly love.”

I couldn’t believe I had told Max this.  The words just tumbled out of my mouth before I realized it.  I half expected him to jump up and walk – no, run – out of my apartment and never look back.  How stupid could one woman be to tell a married man – one who has just confessed his undying love for his wife – that she loves him?

Max was speechless.  He just sat there on the sofa staring at me – realizing for the first time the true depth of my feelings for him.  I wanted to take those words back, but it was too late.  I feared that we had now lost the rapport we had established earlier.  Max might never speak to me again.

The phone rang.  I almost didn’t answer it because I thought Max might disappear while I was talking.  Then I realized that he could leave whenever he wanted – with or without a word to me.  So I answered the phone.  It was Bridgett.

“Kat?  Where are you?”  What a dumb question.  She was calling my home number and I was answering.  I must be at home.

“I’m at home.  What’s wrong?  You sound upset.”  She didn’t, but I needed something to say.

“Why are you still at home?  Did you forget about Ginger’s birthday party?”

I had forgotten.  Even before I ran into Max, I hadn’t thought about Ginger.  After I ran into Max, I hadn’t thought about anything.  “What time is it?”  I asked, trying to pretend that I’d lost track of time.

“The party is about to start.  Ginger is counting on you being here.  Grammy didn’t feel like coming, and it will really upset her if you don’t show up either.”

I didn’t know what to do.  I wanted to be with Bridgett and the kids, but Max was sitting right here in my living room – something that would probably never happen again.  “Hold on a minute,” I told Bridgett.

I looked over at Max.  He was still trying to recover from my earlier declaration.  “Max,” I called out.  He turned towards me and I continued.  “My niece is having a party for her little girl.  The children expect me to come.  Would you like to go?”  I knew his answer, but I asked anyway.  What the heck?  I’d already said more than enough.  I had nothing to lose.

“A party?”  He seemed to be recovering from his stupor.  “A birthday party?”

“Yeah.  I guess you wouldn’t want to go to a kid’s birthday party.  I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I think I would like to go.  I need a distraction right about now.  A kid’s party should be a great diversion.”

Now it was my turn to be dismayed.  Max really wanted to go to my niece’s party.  Bridgett’s yelling reminded me that I still had the phone on my ear.  “Kat!  Are you coming or what?”

“Sure, Bridgett.  I’m coming.  I’m bringing a friend.  Is that okay?”

“I don’t care who you bring.  Just hurry.  The other guests are already starting to arrive.”

“I’m on my way.”

Max seemed to enjoy Ginger’s party.  He helped Ginger pin the tail on the donkey, and he helped her clean her new doll after it fell in the dirt.  He also gave some of the kids long piggyback rides, and he joined their games of hide-and-seek and dodge ball.  By the end of the party, Ginger was in love with Max, and Bridgett was grateful that I had brought him along.  Of course, she didn’t remember that he was her old “boyfriend” from long ago.

“He’s great with kids,” Bridgett said when Max took the kids to eat birthday cake.  “Kip is no good at this kind of thing.  I’m almost certain that he worked today so he wouldn’t have to be here.”

Kip was a great guy and father; he just didn’t know how to act around a bunch of kids.  “I’m sure that’s not true.  Kip loves his children.”

Well, Max is good with Ginger, and he even took a turn holding Brucie.  By the way,” she teased, “is this Max my future uncle?  Or is he just another pal of yours?”

“Max is the one I would marry,” I said wistfully.  “Unfortunately, he already has a wife.”

“He told me that his wife left him,” she said.  “He’s fair game.  Go for it.”

“He still loves her.  I’m going to help him get her back.”  I didn’t know where that came from, but it was true.  I had decided to help Max win Julie back; it was the only thing I could do.

“Are you crazy?  The guy must like you to be spending time at your niece’s kiddy party.  Give him time to get over her.  After that you can move in for the kill.  Anyone can see that you’re in love with him.”  Bridgett’s advice was tempting, but I didn’t want Max on the rebound.  If he was ever to be mine, it had to be completely.  There could be no question of his love for me.  I wanted all of him or none of him.  I didn’t want Julie haunting our lives forever.  Better to give him back to her than to live in her shadow.

“I do love him.  I’ve loved him for twenty-five years.  And because I love him, I want him to be happy.”

“Come on, Kat.  This martyr side of you is sickening.  If you love the man, tell him.  He just might surprise you.”  Bridgett thought that she and I were identical – cut from the same cloth.  If I started sacrificing my happiness in favor of someone else’s, she might be expected to do the same.

“Don’t worry, Bridgett.  If Julie doesn’t want him back, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

“Oh, I get it.  His wife left him – chances are she won’t want him back.  But you tried to get them back together, so you look even better to him – like an angel or something.  He won’t be able to resist you.  You are so smart, Kat!  I should never try to second guess you.  I learn all the good stuff from you.  I hope it all works out.”  I wasn’t trying to look like an angel or impress Max, but Bridgett could think whatever she wanted.  At least she was off my back.

After the party, Max and I drove back to my apartment.  He seemed pensive for several minutes. Then he said, “You have a wonderful family, Kat.  Is Bridgett the little girl that called me her boyfriend?  Years ago – when we were still in school.”

“Yep, that’s her.  Your little Birdie.”

“Oh, yes.  Birdie.  Now I remember.  She was a cutie pie.  She wanted to be just like her Aunt Kat.”  Max had a big smile; he could see little Birdie in his memory.

“She was cute back then.  I loved that little girl so much.  I still do, but I can’t pick her up and love on her anymore.  She’d deck me.”

“Well, I guess she did grow up to be just like her Aunt Kat,” Max laughed.

We pulled into the parking lot.  Max’s car was waiting for him.  I knew he was going to leave.  I couldn’t let him go.  Not yet.  As he opened the door and started sliding out, I grabbed hold of his arm.  He moved back into his seat and looked expectantly at me.

“I want to help you, Max.  With Julie.  I want to help the two of you get back together.”

“That’s not necessary, Kat.  I wouldn’t want to put you through it.  Besides, I think Julie has made up her mind.”  At least he was trying to protect me.  He must care a little bit.

“I insist on helping.  And let me assure you, I’m not doing this to be a hero or to make myself indispensable.  I’m doing it because I love you and because I believe that you love Julie.  You deserve a chance to make your marriage work – a chance to be happy again.”  All this was hard for me to say.  And offering to hand Max over to another woman was the hardest thing of all.

“I don’t know what to say when you tell me you love me.  I know you wish I could return those feelings, but it’s just not possible.  I think you’re a great person and I’ve always thought of you as my friend.  But I can’t...”

“I know.  Don’t say it.  Besides, it doesn’t matter.  I still want to help you.  I’m not going to pretend that this doesn’t hurt, but remember that I will be spending time with you.  At the very least, we’ll become great friends.  We might even salvage your marriage.  Just know that I’m not imagining that you are going to fall madly in love with me.  It’s been twenty-five years and it hasn’t happened.  I think that pretty much says it all.”

“Well… If you are sure...  I just don’t want you getting hurt.  I won’t refuse your help because I will do anything to win Julie back.  She’s my one and only true love.”

We both stepped out of the car.  “We’ll convince her, Max,” I told him.  “Try not to worry.”

He smiled at me.  “Thank you, Kat.  I’ll never forget what you’re doing.  No matter how things turn out.  I guess I’d better go home.  It’s been a long day.  Call me – I’m in the book – and we’ll come up with a plan.  Bye.”  No worries.  I memorized his number years ago.

After Max drove away, I suddenly felt relieved.  I no longer felt pressured to impress Max or win him over.  I was – in some small way – getting my lifelong dream.  Max and I were going to be friends.  He would always be a part of my life.

In that moment, I finally realized the truth.  I wasn’t meant for Max.  No combination of wishing, hoping, praying, and begging was ever going to make Max love me.  And maybe that was why I loved him.  He was my elusive butterfly, my one-armed man.  He was always hanging there – just out of reach – giving me a goal to shoot for – not to mention a good reason to avoid commitment.  I still knew that Max would always be in my heart and I would always love him.  But it was time to move on – time to let that pony run.

I didn’t call Max on Sunday.  I wanted to give him time to think, and I didn’t want to seem too anxious.  I did try to call Olivia, but she failed to answer her phone.

Monday morning, I told Brad all about my weekend with Max.  He listened intently, but later he told me to be careful.  Just like Max, Brad feared that I was heading for heartache.  I assured Brad that I could hold onto my heart.  I even told him about my new revelations about Max.  They were interesting, he admitted, but he wondered if I was deceiving myself.  I promised him that I would be cautious.

I had a message from Olivia on my voice mail.  “If you can find time in your busy schedule, call me.”

She was still steaming from my selfish behavior on Saturday, but she was recovering.  Otherwise, she would have never called me.  I made sure Nancy was not around before dialing Olivia’s work number.

“Olivia McLain.”

“Hi, Olivia.  It’s Kat.”

“Yes, Ms. Bellanova?”  Olivia sounded hostile.  “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.  You called me.”

“I called so you could apologize to me, beg me to meet you for lunch, and grovel at my feet once we get there.  Where do you want to grovel?  Salvatore’s?”  I could almost hear the laughter in her voice.

“Sure.  I might as well grovel in a friendly atmosphere.”

“I’ll see you around noon.”

Salvatore’s was always slow on Mondays.  I slid into the seat across from Olivia and recognized her hurt and angry expression.  It was an expression I knew very well.  “Hi, Olivia.  How’s it going?”

“I lost that bet.”  She said this with a nod towards the kitchen.

“Which bet is that?” I asked.

“Giovanni and I made a small wager.  I bet him that you wouldn’t show up.  He said you would never miss an opportunity to eat his lasagna.  I guess he was right.  You sure wouldn’t come just to see me.”

It was time for my groveling to begin.  “I’m sorry about Saturday, Olivia.”

“It’s okay.  You had something more important to do.”

“No...I should have met you.  I had promised.  I’ve already waited twenty-five years to have Max alone with me inside my house.  I could have waited a while longer.  I shouldn’t have broken my appointment with you.”

“Did you say Max was inside your house?”  Olivia’s eyes were wide with amazement.

“That’s not the issue.  I hurt your feelings, and I need to properly atone.”

“You’ve groveled enough.  Now tell me about Max before I choke every breath of life out of you.”  Olivia always had a way with words.

I quickly told Olivia all about Max, Julie, the twin's party, and me.  “You – Katrina Marina Kipling Bellanova – gave up the chance to have Max – if only for a moment – to help him win his wife back?  I don’t believe you.  You tied him to your bed, right?  He’s lying there now – just waiting for you to return and abuse him some more.  Right?  I know you did not let Max leave your apartment without at least one fling in the bedroom.  Even if you had to get him drunk.  Tell the truth!”

“I am.  Max might have peeked into my bedroom, but that was the extent of his presence in that area of my apartment.  I’m above that sort of behavior.”

Olivia almost choked on her food.  “I hope you aren’t buying in to that hogwash.  If you didn’t ravish Max, it’s because he wouldn’t let you.  I know you too well to believe otherwise.  You aren’t really planning to help him get his wife back, are you?”

“I have to.  This is the thing that will get me completely over Max.”

“If I recall correctly, you once made a similar statement about Elton John.  You said that when he presented his male lover and proved that he was gay, you’d get over him completely.  It’s been several years since he did that, Kat, and you still want to believe that he’s just confused about his sexuality.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you never completely get over anyone.  Of course, you never listen to my advice either.  So what’s your plan?”

“I don’t really have one.  Any suggestions?”  Olivia would help me; I was sure of it.  We would get Max and Julie back together.  We spent the rest of our lunch hour making plans.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Kat?” Olivia asked as we left Salvatore’s together.

“I have to, Olivia.  There’s no other way,” I said.

“Okay.  We’ll do it Saturday.  Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Julie’s sister, Evelyn, lived in a small, wood-framed house in the Argosy Cape subdivision.  The house was white with navy blue trim and a brown shingled roof.  Tall crepe myrtle trees grew along the front.  A man in cut-off jeans pushed a mower mechanically back and forth across the green, plush lawn.  Two chaise lounge chairs sat under a spreading oak.  A fiftyish woman wearing a colorful plaid jumper was lying across one of the chairs.  She was sipping something from a plastic cup.  The other chair was empty.

As Olivia and I cruised by for the fourth time, we saw a younger woman – holding a pitcher and wearing a yellow halter top and khaki shorts – bound out of the house.  The woman had mahogany colored hair, and large freckles peppered her pale body.  I knew immediately that she was Julie.  She joined the woman and sat on the other chaise.  Then she placed the pitcher on a patio table that was beside her.

Argosy Cape – the same subdivision Olivia had grown up in – was a small apex of land that the bay bordered on three sides.  Just across the street from Evelyn’s house was a narrow stretch of grass and sand that edged into the bay.  The street was wide, and a car could park on the side near the water, allowing the passengers to walk down to the water’s edge.  I slowly pulled over, and Olivia and I got out of my car.

In a booming voice, Olivia announced, “This looks like a good place.”  Then she added in a subdued whisper, “So that’s the woman Max is in love with?  She’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I asked her quietly.

“I keep remembering that girl he dated in high school.  She was...I don’t know...more glamorous.”  It surprised me that Olivia remembered anything about Max.

“I guess guys don’t marry the glamorous ones.  They are just for show.”

Olivia gave me a pointed look.  “That’s funny.  I thought guys didn’t marry girls like us.  Except those of us who marry anyone just to say they are married.”

“Is that supposed to hurt?” I asked.  “It certainly isn’t funny.”

We removed two lawn chairs from the trunk of my car.  Olivia positioned them so we could sit and watch Julie while we appeared to be enjoying the cool gentle breeze and the lapping waves.  I fished a red-checkered table cloth and a rather large picnic basket out of the car.  These completed our disguise.  We hoped we looked like two vacationers enjoying a waterside picnic instead of two snoops trying to spy on someone.

“This is very pleasant,” I said loudly.  Olivia and I sat on our lawn chairs.  Julie and the other woman seemed to be in an animated conversation.

“What did you do all week?” Olivia wanted to know.

“Monday night, I went over to Max’s house.  We ordered a pizza, and we were planning to talk about Julie.  He went to get some of their wedding pictures, but he found an old yearbook instead.  We ended up talking about old times all night.  Then I fell asleep on his couch.  He covered me up with a quilt.  When I woke up, he was sleeping in the recliner across from me.  He looks so sweet when he’s sleeping.”

“Don’t make me gag.  Were you late for work?  Nancy probably loved that.”

“I wasn’t late.  I woke up around five, rushed home, took a quick shower, and arrived at work right at eight.  I worked late Tuesday night on the year 2000 project.  Brad took me out for dinner.  He’s acting very strange lately.

“Wednesday, Max and I went to Seville Quarter.  We danced, and I had a few too many drinks.  I woke up on his couch again.  I called into work and told Nancy I was sick.  Brad called my house seven times trying to find out how I was.  I stayed at Max’s and spruced up his house while he was at work.  Then I cooked him pork chops for dinner.  I managed to get home around ten.

“Yesterday, Max took me to his dad’s house for dinner.  Max or his dad cooked spaghetti.  Oh, remember his aunt?  She doesn’t live there anymore.  Moved back to Texas.  Max brought me home around eleven.  He came in for a moment, and, before we knew it, it was one o’clock.”

Olivia had a bewildered look on her face.  “So, just what did you learn about Julie?”

I thought for a moment.  “Um...She has very dark brown hair.  Oh, and her sister’s name is Evelyn, and this is Evelyn’s house.”

“He told you all that information in just one week?” Olivia asked facetiously.

“Well, he told me all of that this morning.  We didn’t talk about her all week, so I had to call him before you came over so I’d have some details,” I sheepishly replied.

“I thought he wanted her back, and I thought you wanted to help him.  It’s not looking that way to me.”

“It’s hard for him to talk about her.  I didn’t want to pressure him.  I’m letting him set the pace.”

“At this rate, he’ll win her back around the same time he retires.”

“You should have been a comedian, Olivia.  I can’t stop laughing at your wry wit.  Now stop with the jokes so we can concentrate here.”

“Who said I was joking?” Olivia argued.  “You don’t want them back together, and I’m beginning to think he doesn’t either.”

“You’re wrong, Olivia,” was all I said.

We watched Julie while we had our picnic: fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, green bean salad, and peach cobbler.  Occasionally, it seemed that Julie was looking in our direction, but we couldn’t be certain.  She didn’t seem weepy or worried without Max, but, there again, we couldn’t really be sure.

“Why are we doing this?” Olivia asked as she placed our paper plates in a plastic garbage bag.

“I guess I just wanted to see her.  I wanted to see if she was missing Max.”

“And did you learn that?”

“No.  I’m not even positive that that is Julie.  What if that’s her sister?”

“I was guessing that the older lady was Evelyn.”

“Maybe that’s their mother,” I offered.

“She’s not that old, Kat.  That has to be her sister, and the redhead has to be Julie.”  Then Olivia added, “I have no idea who that man is cutting the grass.  He seems too young to be the sister’s husband.”

As if to answer Olivia’s speculating, the man switched off the mower and walked over to the two women.  He took the pitcher from the table next to Julie and took a long drink from it.  Julie stood up and moved over by the man.  He reached up and put his arm around her as he kissed her on the lips!

If anyone at the little white house had looked across at Olivia or me, they would have instantly known that we were watching them.  Olivia’s eyes were wide open in surprise, her eyebrows rose up into her hairline, and her mouth formed a perfect little “O”.  I must have looked the same because I felt completely shocked by the scene that was playing out across the street.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” I said to Olivia.

We quickly threw our belongings into the car and took off.  I took one last glance at the house.  The man had his arm around Julie’s waist while the two of them chatted with the woman in the chaise.  They were totally unaware that Olivia and I had been spying on them.  For some reason, I felt very lowly and despicable.  Worst of all, I didn’t know what I was going to say to Max.

As I drove away, Olivia couldn’t shake what we had just seen.  “I still can’t believe it,” she mumbled.

“Me either,” I said.

“How are you going to tell Max?  Isn’t he coming over to your house later?”

“He’ll be there this afternoon.  But we can’t tell him.”  I was certain on that point.

“What do you mean?  He needs to know that his wife is seeing someone else.  This could be the chance for you to have Max all to yourself.”  Olivia was partially right.  Max needed to know, but he needed to hear it from Julie.

“If I tell him, he’ll be angry and hurt, and he’ll feel obligated to give her up to keep from looking foolish.  He’ll always remember that I pointed out Julie’s faults.  Somewhere down the road, he would blame me for their breakup.  Besides that, we don’t really know what was going on over there.”

“Of course, it is your decision.  I don’t know what I would do, but if he finds out later that you knew and didn’t tell him...  Well, it could backfire, Kat.”

Olivia might be right, but it was a chance I was willing to take.  No matter what, I would never say a negative word about Julie to Max.  I would not be a party to the end of their marriage.  That would be like signing a pact with Satan: no matter how great things were in the beginning, the only outcome would be everlasting hell.

Max arrived at my apartment while I was on the phone with Brad.  Brad had called to make sure I was okay.  He seemed to be trying to tell me something, but, when Max came in, Brad suddenly needed to go.  I knew something was going on with Brad, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  Maybe he would tell me next week at work.

Max took a bottle of spring water from my fridge and sat down at the kitchen table.  I tried to avoid his eyes because I was afraid he would guess that I was hiding something.  I finally sat down next to him and stared at the palms of my hands.

“Did you see her?” he asked me.

“I’m not sure,” I said.  I had decided to tell him about the two women.  Maybe he would confirm that Julie was not one of them.  “I saw a woman with mahogany – uh, dark brown – hair.  Maybe it was Julie’s sister.”

“No.  Evelyn is almost completely gray.  Julie was a surprise for her parents.  Evelyn is eighteen years older than Julie.  If you saw a brunette, it must have been Julie.  How did she look?  Did she seem lethargic or depressed?”  I could see Max getting excited.

“It was hard to tell.  She was across the street.  She and an older woman – probably her sister – were relaxing in lounge chairs.  I guess her actions might have been a little halfhearted.”  Why was I lying?  Julie might not deserve him, but I couldn’t bring myself to break Max’s heart.  Not even a little bit.  “I think she misses you.”

“Really?”  A bright flicker of hope appeared in his eyes.  I would have lied a thousand times to see his eyes light up this way.  “Do you think I should go see her?  Maybe I should send her flowers.”

“Go to her, Max.  If she refuses to see you, we’ll go to another plan.”  Part of me hoped he’d catch her in her new lover’s arms.  The other part hoped that his dreams would come true.  I really did want him to be happy.

Before I knew what was happening, Max stood up and wrapped his arms around me.  His touch was warm, but I felt chills run all over my body.  Deep inside my stomach, I felt as if someone had lit an oven.  I never wanted him to let me go, but I knew he was simply thanking me for my encouragement.  I hadn’t actually helped him reunite with Julie, but I had pushed him to make a move.

“Thanks, Kat,” he said.  He pulled me to my feet and made me turn to face him.

“I didn’t do that much.  Just a little reconnaissance work.”  We were standing toe to toe.  He was staring deep into my eyes.  His face was only inches from mine.  I could feel his breath on my cheeks.  Why did he love her and not me?

“You’ve helped me through the pain I was feeling when we first saw each other in the garden.  You’ve helped me realize that I can make it without Julie – if she decides to end our marriage.  You’ve been my friend when you didn’t have to be.  You will always be my friend.”

I wanted to scream, “I love you, Max – more than she ever will.”  I wanted to beg him to stay with me and forget about Julie.  I wanted him to realize that it was me that he loved.  But none of those things happened.  He pulled me close to him, and, again, he said, “Thank you.”

I walked him to the door knowing I had let my last opportunity slip away.  No matter what happened with Julie now, Max would only be my friend – nothing more.  I watched him get into his car and drive away, and I felt a piece of me die.  At that moment, I vowed to never put another person’s feelings ahead of my own.  From now on, I was only looking out for Katrina.  Max and the rest of the world were on their own.

Chapter 16

On Monday morning, Brad met me in my office at eight o’clock.  He was carrying a box of donuts, a cup of coffee, and a bottle of Tropicana orange juice.  He tried to give me a chocolate donut, and I threw my hands up while shaking my head.

“How about a jelly-filled?” he asked as he poked around inside the cardboard box.

“No, Brad.  I don’t want any donuts.  But if that OJ is for me, I’ll take it now.”  Brad was a coffeeholic, and he knew I didn’t like coffee.  The orange juice had to be for me.

He tossed the plastic bottle across my desk.  “How’s old Max-a-roonie doing?”

“I’m guessing that he and his wife reconciled.  I haven’t talked to him since Saturday.”  I failed to mention that I had unplugged my phone Saturday evening just before I left town to visit my uncle and aunt in Alabama.  I wanted to be inaccessible; I didn’t want to hear how wonderful Max was doing.

“I guess you did a good job.  You don’t seem overly depressed.  Maybe this exercise was good therapy.  Maybe you’ve worked Max out of your system.”  Brad seemed a tad bit too excited by this possibility.

“I don’t want to talk about Max anymore.  What happened did not change my feelings for him.  I hoped it would – I was even beginning to think it would.  But it didn’t.  I still love him.  I can’t spend the rest of my life moping around though.  I’ve got to move on.  So Max is now a taboo subject.”

“Noooo problem.  Enjoy your OJ.  I’d better deliver a donut to Nancy before she fires me.”  Brad zipped out of my office.  He hadn’t seemed this happy in quite a long time.  Especially not on a Monday.

I didn’t see much of Brad the rest of the morning.  He stayed in his office, and each time I passed by he was either on the phone or staring at his computer monitor.  I was going to invite him out to lunch, but he left before I had the chance.  Nancy said that he might come back late because he had personal business to attend to.  I wondered why he had shared that with Nancy and not with me – his favorite coworker.

After lunch, I had a call from Olivia.  “How did things go, Kat?  I haven’t been able to reach you all weekend.”

“He was going to see her.  That’s all I know.  I think they will get back together.”  I sounded flat, defeated, destroyed.

“I don’t think so.  I spent yesterday with Lee.  We went on a picnic.  Just try and guess where we had our picnic.”

“Oh, Olivia.  Don’t tell me you went to Evelyn’s house again?  Max could have seen you there.  What were you thinking?”  Olivia had audacity, I’d give her that.

“Lee and I got there around ten.  We stayed until after four – swimming and sunbathing.  We saw Julie.  At around eleven, she waved goodbye as her sister drove away – and Evelyn didn’t come back while we were there.  Max never came over all day.  Her boyfriend did though.  She met him at the door in a skimpy bikini bathing suit only minutes after Evelyn left.  They disappeared inside, and he was still there when Lee and I called it a day.  Does that sound like she’s reconciling with Max?”

“I don’t know.  I can’t get my hopes up again.  If Max calls and tells me he wants me, then I’ll get excited.  Otherwise, I’m assuming he still wants Julie.  I know you’re trying to help, Olivia, but don’t.  I hate to run, but Nancy is heading towards my office.  I’ll talk to you later.”

I didn’t really see Nancy, but I needed to hang up.  The more Olivia talked about Julie and her boyfriend, the more I got depressed.  I knew Max was going to get hurt by all of this.  Maybe he already had.  I tried to throw myself into my work to get my mind off Max, but it was hopeless.  It seemed that nothing could tear him from my mind.

Suddenly, my phone rang again.  I worried that it might be Olivia again, but it was Bigelow’s receptionist, Megan.  “Hi, Kat,” she said.  “You have a visitor.  Could you come to the front office?”

I couldn’t imagine who was visiting me, but I told her I would be there in a moment.  Brad’s office was still empty, and Nancy was in her office talking on the phone while filing her nails.  I walked through the room that housed our computer system.  The temperature in the room was always sixty-eight degrees, and the icy blue carpet made it seem even colder.  I shivered as I unlocked the large white security doors that kept the computer system and IT staff separated from the rest of the company.

Stepping into the main hallway, I marveled at how the place never seemed to change.  The pea-green carpet on the floors had been around as long as I had, and the dingy white walls desperately needed painting.  Malcolm, a CPA and our comptroller, sat behind his huge oak desk – looking just the same as he did the day I started work here.  Across from his office were about thirty or forty cubicles that housed our accounting department.  The turnover among the accountants and clerks that manned our payable and receivable departments was tremendous.  The faces in the cubicles seemed to change almost daily.  Still, the department looked the same – day after day, week after week.

As I passed by the entrance to Mr. Bigelow’s office, his secretary, Myra Bingston, smiled at me and waved.  Beyond her small office, I could see the highly polished walnut door that led into Todd Bigelow’s office.  Mr. Bigelow kept his door shut.  No one ever saw him privately without an appointment – not even his employees.  I had only had the pleasure of visiting his office once.  Fortunately for me, it was for commendation.  Most visits were for reprimands or – even more commonly – termination.  Just the mention of Mr. Bigelow’s name sent many employees scurrying away.  He was a formidable man.

I stepped into the lobby expecting to see my mom or Bridgett standing there.  I could think of no one else that would visit me at work.  The only person in the lobby was a black man wearing a cascade of greasy Jeri-curls and a tan uniform.  As I entered the room, he brightly smiled at me, revealing a mouthful of pearly white teeth.

Megan was sitting at her desk grinning like the Cheshire cat.  The warm glow on her face made the middle aged woman appear years younger.  She was up to something and it involved me in some way.

“I have a visitor?” I asked in a puzzled tone.

“Ms. Bellanova?  I have something for you,” the black man said.  He stepped outside for a moment, returning with a vase full of long stemmed red roses.  He handed me the large bouquet and stepped back out the door.

“Who are they from?” asked Megan.

Now Myra appeared in the doorway.  “Tell us, Kat.  Who sent you flowers?”

I pushed past Myra and moved down the hall.  I had a feeling that I knew who had sent me flowers, and I wasn’t going to share this moment with people who were almost completely strangers to me.

“Come on,” Megan yelled.  “Tell us!”

“Kat!” Myra shouted.

I ignored their screams and rushed to get back inside the secure door of the IT department.  Once inside, I had a few questioning looks from the computer operators and technicians, but no one asked anything.  I hurried to my office, and I noticed that Nancy came out of her office to watch me.  I shut my door to insure my privacy.

I placed the vase on my desk.  In the back of my head, I remembered that Max had thought of sending flowers to Julie.  Had he sent them to me instead?  I sniffed the bouquet; the fragrance was divine.  Next, I counted the buds and blossoms – two dozen of the most beautiful roses I had ever seen mingled together with bits of greenery and sprigs of baby’s-breath.  The card was in the center of the arrangement, and I nervously plucked it from the plastic holder.  I held my breath as I pulled the card out of the small envelope that bore my name.  Then I read these words:

“I’ve waited a long time to tell you this.  I believe the time is right.  I love you, Kat.  All my heart, Brad.”

The card slipped from my hand and gently floated onto the desk.  I suppose I had been stupid to believe the roses were from Max, but why did they have to come from Brad?

I sat down in my chair just as the door to my office started opening.  Brad’s head popped in.  He had a big grin on his face.  “Did I surprise you?” he asked me.

Did he ever.  Don’t misunderstand.  I love Brad with all my heart.  I’m just not in love with Brad.  And I never could be.  He’s like my big brother.  He’s my confidant.  He’s my best – no, my only – friend at work.  He could never be my lover.  Why was he ruining everything this way?  “Uh, yeah.  I’d say I’m surprised all right.”

He started laughing.  “I wish you could see your face,” he said between guffaws.  “You didn’t really buy that drivel, did you?”

I didn’t quite know what to say.  Was Brad suggesting that this had all been a joke?

Brad looked crestfallen.  “You don’t like my joke?”  Then he turned pasty white, “Oh my gosh.  You did believe it.  And now I’ve upset you by saying it was a joke.  Does that mean…”

Uh-oh.  Before he started thinking I really had romantic feelings for him, I spoke up.  “I did believe it.  I just didn’t know how to explain that I didn’t feel that way about you.  I was afraid I’d hurt your feelings and spoil our friendship.”

“That would never happen.  We will always be best buds.  Anyway, now let me tell you why I really sent you roses…”

Brad proceeded to tell me how he was trying to convince Nancy that he was in love with me.

“Why would you want to do that?” I asked.  “Why would she care?”

“Oddly enough, she’s a hopeless romantic.  One day she was asking me if I had a thing for you.  She had overheard us talking about having dinner together.  Anyway, she’s been encouraging me to make a move.  The roses were actually her idea…”

I still didn’t understand why Brad wanted her to believe he loved me.  “So what is the point of all this?”

“Well, of course you are going to break my heart.  When you do, Nancy is going to chew you out.  She’s committed 100% to getting us together.  She won’t take it well when she sees how dejected I look when I leave for the day.  In fact, I may go confide in her in just a few minutes.  Cry on her shoulder and such.  She’ll be gunning for you for sure after that.”

“Again, Brad, what’s the point?  Do you want her to fire me?”

“No, but I want to get her fired.  She’s not aware of it, but Mr. Bigelow is coming to your office at 5 pm.  He’s going to catch her jumping on you.”  Brad had it all figured out, but I didn’t want to get Nancy fired for something like this.

“Brad, I don’t like this idea.  You could have shared your plan with me so I could have pointed out how petty and mean it is.  I don’t like Nancy, but this isn’t fair to her.”

“Too late.  It’s already in motion.  Unless you want to pretend that you and I are a couple for the next several years…”

“Wait…Why is Mr. Bigelow coming to my office at five?”  This part of Brad’s plan had finally reached my brain.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.  But, okay, you’ve twisted my arm: he’s giving you a promotion.  He’s making you a Senior Programmer, and he’s hired someone new to do your old job.  I guess you’ve impressed him.  But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“That’s interesting.  I’m still not fighting with Nancy though.”

“We’ll see about that,” Brad said with a smirk, and he was gone.  I saw him heading to Nancy’s office in a hurry.

At five, I picked up my purse and headed out.  Brad was gone already – or crying to Nancy.   As I approached Nancy’s office, I tried to sneak by unseen.  Too bad it didn’t work.  She stuck her head out the doorway.  “Could you step in for a minute?” she asked.

“Nancy, I’m in a hurry, I don’t have time to talk to you right now.  I’ll see you first thing in the morning…”  I had to avoid this conversation in case Mr. Bigelow showed up.  I still wasn’t convinced that Brad had told the truth.  Besides, the last thing I wanted to discuss with Nancy was my personal life.  I couldn’t believe Brad had thought this was a good idea.  I was now wondering if all the time we’d been spending together lately had been part of this stupid plan.

I moved towards the door, but Nancy positioned herself in front of it.  “We have to talk about Brad.  I’m concerned that his obsession with you is affecting his job.  He’s not handling your rejection very well.  I can’t have him running around acting like a lovesick teenager…”

It looked like Brad had been wrong about Nancy.  She didn’t seem very sympathetic to his situation.  Well, his pretend situation.

“I know the two of you have been spending a lot of time together outside of work.  You may have led him on, even if you didn’t mean to.  I may have encouraged Brad to move…let’s say…a little faster.  I may have suggested that he send you the flowers.”

“So what are you saying?  Get to the point, Nancy.”

“I’m asking you to try to like Brad.  If it ever got out that I encouraged him…But that’s not going to happen, right?  I’ve convinced Mr. Bigelow that you’re a valued employee, and he has plans to promote you and give you a raise.  All thanks to me.  So no one ever has to find out about the part I played in Brad’s pursuit of you – if you’ll just pretend to be interested in him for a few weeks.  Once you have your promotion, you can tell Brad that things just aren’t working out…”

“Are you actually trying to bribe me?  You have a lot of nerve.  Brad isn’t in love with me.  He’s been playing you all along.  He was hoping that you’d do something stupid and get fired over it.  I’m trying my best to keep that from happening.  Now get out of my way.  I’m not listening to anymore of this.”  I pushed Nancy out of the doorway and then I ran straight into Mr. Bigelow.  He was standing just outside of Nancy’s office and he didn’t look happy.

“Hello, Mr. Bigelow,” I stuttered.

“Katrina,” he said and smiled.  “Please step back into Nancy’s office.  I have something to say concerning this department.”

I was terrified that Mr. Bigelow was going to fire all of us if he had heard our conversation.  He hadn’t heard any of it, or if he did, he never mentioned it.

As it turned out, Mr. Bigelow had big plans for the department and for the entire company.  He told us that he had been evaluating the company, and he’d realized that some people were in jobs that weren’t ideal for them.  He wasn’t getting rid of anyone, just doing a massive reorganization.  He felt that Nancy would be better utilized as a sales manager since she worked really well with clients and customers.  He had hoped Brad would move into the IT manager position, but Brad had rejected it.  Mr. Bigelow was bringing someone else in for that position, and he wanted to promote me to a senior programmer.  He was hoping to bring on some other new people as well.

Neither Nancy nor I was able to say anything more than thank you when he finished up by telling us that we’d both be getting a bump in our paychecks that he’d discuss with us privately in a few days.

The next morning, Brad stuck his head into my office.  He had a big smile on his face.  He started laughing and joking about how he’d played Nancy.  I felt like skinning him alive after what he put me through in the name of a good laugh, but I was too excited about being rid of Nancy and about my promotion.  I gave him a pass this one time.

The week slipped by amazingly fast.  I found that I hardly had time to think about Max and Julie.  I did wonder what Olivia was up to because she hadn’t called me since Monday.  I made the decision to drop by her house on Saturday morning.  I wanted to stop her from going on any more of her spying operations.

I drove up into Olivia’s driveway.  Olivia lived in a two-bedroom brick house that she had scrimped and saved to buy.  The yard was green and plush, but it needed a trim.  Flowers were blooming everywhere – roses, petunias, daffodils, and snap dragons – a fiesta of colors dancing across Olivia’s yard.  Blue country style curtains were hanging in the windows, and a homey “welcome” wreath hung on the carved oak door.  I followed the stepping stones up to the front door and pressed the doorbell.  I heard Olivia’s footsteps, and then the door opened.  Olivia was wearing a pair of jeans and a knit shirt.

“Hey, Kat.  Come on in.  What are you doing here?”

I stepped into Olivia’s cozy living room.  A blue oversized couch was along one wall.  The matching chair and loveseat – placed neatly on either side of the couch – helped form a tight little semicircle that gave the room a certain amount of intimacy.  Opposite the couch was an oak entertainment center that housed a twenty inch television, an ancient VCR, and a meager stereo system.  A coffee table in the middle of the room held several magazines and Olivia’s purse.

“Were you going out?” I asked suspiciously.

“No.  I just got back.”  I hated to doubt Olivia, but it was only nine o’clock in the morning.  I wondered where she might have been.

“You weren’t...” I began.

“I wasn’t spying.  Honest.  But I do have a surprise for you.”  She picked up her purse and took something out.  She held her hand out to me.  There were two tickets in her palm.  I took the tickets and examined them.

“I...I...I can’t believe this!”  I stuttered from my excitement.  “These are Elton John tickets!  How did you get them, Olivia?  That concert is sold out.”

“I know.  I know.  Did you notice that they are for the front row?”

“The front row?  How?  Tell me how!”  I was frantic.  I couldn’t believe Olivia had tickets for me.

“Do you remember the guy who won the front row tickets and the limo ride and all that stuff?  He called me last night and told me that two of his friends couldn’t make it to the concert.  He wondered if I still wanted to buy some tickets.  He wouldn’t sell the backstage passes – he only had two.  But he sold me these two tickets.  Can you believe it?  In only two weeks, you’ll be sitting in the front row at Elton’s concert.  You might even get an autograph.  Oh, and by the way, you owe me seventy-five dollars.”

“He sold you the tickets for seventy-five bucks each?  Some of them are going for two hundred or more.”

“No, he sold me both tickets for seventy-five bucks total.  That’s less than we would have paid if we bought them at Ticket Master.  Anyway, I’m letting you pay for my ticket because I went to so much trouble to get them.  Besides, I don’t really like Elton John anyway.”

I didn’t care if I had to pay three times that amount or more.  I was getting to go to an Elton concert and sit on the front row.  This was a dream come true for me.  I grabbed Olivia and gave her a big hug.  “Thanks, Olivia.  You can’t imagine how much this means to me.”

“Well, it’s not Max, but it is close.  Through the years it’s been hard to know if you loved Max or Elton more.  I can’t wait to see you at that concert.”  Olivia hugged me back.  I felt guilty for ever doubting her.  She was the best.

I visited with Olivia for a while.  I kept wondering how I could pay her back.  I wanted to do something wonderful for her.  I began to realize that I didn’t know one thing that I could do to make Olivia happy.  I had been too busy chasing one dream or another – expecting Olivia to help me through every close call – and I had failed to listen to many of Olivia’s dreams.  Oh, I knew she wanted to be a lawyer, and I knew she someday wanted a family.  But what else did she want out of life?  I was clueless.

When I got up to leave, Olivia told me to hold on to the tickets.  I held them tightly in my hand and promised to keep them safe.  I hugged my friend again, and she seemed comforted by my show of affection.  “Are you seeing Lee?”  I asked as I walked out the door.  “You two are getting close.”

“We’re going out to dinner tonight.  We are working on something; I’m just not sure what.  I think we could become serious, but we both want to take it slowly.  Hey, I’ve got to become a lawyer first.”  It did seem that Olivia’s world was coming together.  We were both happy for the moment.

I spent most of the weekend alone.  Max never called, Olivia was busy with Lee, and Brad was distancing himself.  I drove over to my mother’s, and we had a decent conversation for once.  My brother Rick was coming for a visit and Mom couldn’t conceal her enthusiasm.  She hoped this meant that he would be coming for visits regularly.  Just before I left her house, Mom took me by the arm and said, “Kat, I want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

Mom had never said this before, and I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

“That’s not all,” she continued.  “I told you the last time you were over here that you were ordinary.  That wasn’t true.  You are very special, Katrina.  I’ve always known that.  I think in some ways that I’m envious of you.  I spent most of my life married to a man that treated me worse than an animal.  I know you loved your daddy, but he was a hard man to live with.  Rick was born one year after we married, and I became a prisoner.  I had to quit my job to stay home with the baby.  I loved both of my children, but I felt robbed of my life.  You were strong enough to leave your bad marriage behind, and you have a wonderful career.  One day you’re going to meet the man of your dreams.  Then you’ll have the kind of marriage I’ve only been able to dream about.  Whatever you do, don’t waste this special life that you have.  I don’t want you to miss out because you are waiting on a man that doesn’t have the good sense to realize what a prize you are.”

My tears were flowing now.  All I could manage to say at the moment was, “I love you, Mama.”   But as we walked to my car, I turned to her and said, “I want you to know that I am happy.  I have a good life.  Even if I never find the right man, I’ve experienced love and I’ve been loved.  My life is very complete.  Somehow, you and Daddy brought me up to be strong and secure.  I can never thank you enough for that.  I’m just glad I have the chance to tell you.”

I left Mom’s house not only with a carload of fresh vegetables from her garden, but also with a better understanding of my mother.  She had lived a hard life, and she wanted better for her daughter.  Until today, she hadn’t known how to tell me that.  Or maybe I had never really listened before.

On Sunday afternoon, I thought about visiting Hurricane Gardens, but I couldn’t.  That place would forever remind me of Max, and the day we became friends.  Friends for a while, anyway.  I wondered if I would ever hear from him again.  He and Julie were probably having a second honeymoon.  I might never cross his mind again.  He might never know about Julie’s indiscretions.

Even if he knew, would he care?

Monday morning I began to think I might find out the answer to that question.

I dressed for work in my favorite black slacks and a gray blouse.  My pants almost fell off me, so I glanced into my full-length mirror.  I hadn’t realized before that I had dropped a few pounds, but suddenly my face didn’t seem so round and I actually had a waistline.   I was still overweight, but there was definitely a change.  I grabbed a black belt and marveled as the little holes slipped by and I was able to buckle it in the very last one.

I was running a little late, so I zoomed off to work without breakfast.  Just before I walked into the front door of Bigelow’s, Olivia came running up to me.  She looked a little worried.  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Maybe nothing.  It depends on how you take this news.”

My brain shifted into overdrive.  I imagined that she was going to tell me that Max and Julie were back together.  I didn’t want to break down here in front of the office, so I motioned for her to move around the corner.  “Okay.  Let’s hear it.”

“It’s about Max,” she continued.  “I did something you might not like.”

“What did you do?” I asked quietly.  I supposed that she had been spying again.

“I called him.  Wait, wait.  Before you say anything, let me explain.”

She all but covered my mouth with her hands to keep me from speaking, so I nodded that I would listen.

“He had to know, Kat.  I know they were living apart, but she was seeing someone else.  He needs to know that...”

I got ready to explode.  I couldn’t believe Olivia had done this.  “What...?!” I yelled.

“Wait...I haven’t finished.  I didn’t even mention you.  I told him that I found out by accident.  I used my name.  I kept you out of it...”  I knew Olivia was doing this for me, but it was really none of her business.  It wasn’t any of my business either.  This was between Max and Julie.

I tried to remain calm.  “You shouldn’t have done that, Olivia.  What did he say?”

Olivia swallowed hard.  “He didn’t.  I guess he’d already left for work.  I left the message on his machine.”

“When was this?”

“Just a few minutes ago.  I had second thoughts the minute I hung up.”

At first, I felt helpless, but then I decided we had to do something.  “We can’t let Max get that message.  No matter what you think, you can’t tell him about this.  You might ruin his life, Olivia.  He really loves her.  This is not the way he should find out.”

Olivia agreed that she might have done the wrong thing.  We stood on the sidewalk for a while and tried to come up with a strategy.  Short of burning down his house, I couldn’t come up with anything.  But Olivia had a plan.  It was risky, but what alternative did we have?

There was a pay phone on the corner, so I used it to call work.  I spoke with the personnel manager who let me take off and use a vacation day.  After taking my car home, Olivia and I rushed to Max’s house.  We inconspicuously parked down the street.  There were no cars in front of his house, but I had to be sure no one was home.  Olivia handed me her cell phone, and I dialed Max’s number.  After the tenth ring, I decided that no one was there.  Now we had to put our plan into action.

Olivia and I walked together towards Max’s house as though we were familiar guests.  Just before we reached the white pickets that bordered the front porch, we scampered around behind his house like two scared jackrabbits.  Fortunately, tall hedges surrounded Max’s backyard on all sides.  It was unlikely that anyone would see us as we prepared to break in to Max’s house.

Olivia began delving through her purse for a credit card.  “Hurry up,” I whispered.  “Max or Julie could come home at any time.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t pack this thing with the intention of breaking and entering someone’s house.”  Just then, Olivia pulled a Visa Platinum card out of her purse.  “They say Visa can take you anywhere – let’s find out if it’s true!”  With the skill of a seasoned burglar – or maybe a professional shopper – Olivia made a swipe with the card and the door easily pushed open.

Olivia and I tiptoed inside.  I led the way because I had been here before.  Still, the dark shades on the windows blocked out much of the light, and I was a little disoriented.  Was it my imagination, or had Max changed things around?  I thought there had been a dinette set in the middle of the kitchen, but now it was empty.  As we moved into the living room, the rust colored couch was missing – replaced by a white futon – and the phone and the answering machine were sitting on a stack of phone books instead of the cute little corner shelves I remembered.  I started wondering if Max was about to move.

I stepped over towards the answering machine, and Olivia took a peek out the window.  I heard someone blowing a car horn in the distance, and Olivia said, “Darn it!  Some smart-aleck kid is messing around with my car.  I’m gonna sneak out and stop him.  I’ll be right back.”

Before I could say, “Wait,” Olivia was leaving through the back door.  I decided to make the best of it.  I pressed the play button on the answering machine and listened as the tape rewound.  Then I heard a woman’s voice coming from the speaker.

“Hi, Max.  This is Val at work.  Mr. Dreyfuss is sick today, and he wanted me to tell you to take the day off – with pay, of course.  It’s eight-twenty, and I think I might have missed you.  I’ll wait around work until you call or show up.  Bye.”

The machine stopped.  I pressed it again, but the only message that played was Val’s.  I quickly realized that Max had already listened to Olivia’s message and erased it.  A little slower I realized what Val’s message had said.  Max had the day off.  He would be coming back home.  I glanced at my watch.  It was almost nine o’clock.  Max might be driving up at any second.

I hurried to stand up, but it was too late.  A key was turning in the door.  Max was going to catch me red handed.  How would I ever explain?  And he already heard Olivia’s message.  I had broken into his house for no reason.  It dawned on me how stupid this whole stunt had been.  I was a complete idiot, and I was about to be an arrested idiot.  As the doorknob started to turn, I noticed an open closet door in the hallway.  I jumped inside and pulled the door shut.  Maybe I would get a chance to duck out before Max found me.

I heard voices.  It was Olivia saying, “Excuse me.  Excuse me, please.”

Then I heard another voice.  A woman’s voice.  “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

“I’m not selling anything,” Olivia said.  “I was hoping you could give me some directions.  This neighborhood is so confusing.  I’m supposed to meet a friend of mine, but I got lost.”

The voices became muffled, and I wondered if they had stepped outside.  I cautiously moved back into the living room.  I could see Olivia through a crack in the door.  She glanced at me and flashed her eyes towards the back of the house.  She was telling me to get out.  Before I rushed away, I noticed who Olivia was talking to.  It was Julie.

Amazingly, I escaped undetected.  I still couldn’t believe I had just broken in to Max and Julie’s house.  What was I thinking?  It was becoming clear that my obsession with Max was going to destroy me.  I had to let this thing go.

I met Olivia back at the car.  “Was she suspicious?” I asked.

“Not at all.  You know it was Julie?”

“Yeah.  I saw her.”

“You’re taking this rather well.  You realize that she’s going to hear the message.  Or did you erase it?”

“Someone else erased it.  I thought it was Max, but maybe it was Julie.  It really doesn’t matter.  She’s moved back in.  They are back together.  It’s time to forget all of this.  Besides, I still have my date with Elton.  One week from Saturday.”

“That’s the spirit.  But, please, Kat – don’t start thinking that Elton might become straight if he meets the right girl.  I don’t feel like chasing you all night, and I don’t want us to get thrown in jail.”  Olivia was totally serious.

“Don’t worry.  I just want to shake his hand and get his autograph.  I’ve wasted one lifetime trying to get Max.  I’m not ready to waste another one trying to get Elton to switch teams.”  We laughed together, and I felt pretty good.  I had lost Max many times and survived.  This was just one more.  This was the last time.

Chapter 17

Brad and I had a new boss on Tuesday.  His name was Milton Starr, he was a distinguished gentleman around fifty-five years old, and he had been an IT manager at another company for over ten years.  I liked him from the start, and he seemed impressed with the work Brad and I did.  Brad and I rejoiced in the fact that our work might finally be appreciated.

I spoke to Olivia several times during the week.  I was finally listening to what she had to say.  I had discovered what she really needed – a sympathetic ear.  She and Lee were progressing nicely.  They saw each other almost every day, and they spoke on the phone frequently.  In a few weeks, she would be starting college.  The thought excited and petrified her.  I assured her that everything would work out fine.  Remarkably, we didn’t mention Max once during the week.

Time seemed to fly.  It was Saturday and in one more week, I would be up close to Elton John.  The excitement was almost more than I could bear.  I met Brad for breakfast at a small French pastry café downtown.  I had a blueberry sconce and a glass of OJ.  Brad enjoyed some beignets and some cappuccino.  We talked about work and some of Brad’s phobias.  Our friendship was still strong and intact.

After Brad drove away, I sat in my car and contemplated how I would spend the rest of my day.  I thought about Hurricane Gardens.  I really did love that place, and I wanted to go there.  I had to get past the memory of Max and start doing the things I loved again.  I decided that the garden would be the place to start.

It was as lovely as ever.  The spring flowers were in full bloom and the garden was Mother Nature’s showcase.  There were beds of tulips, irises, gladiolus, and hyacinths.  Another bed held tiger lilies, daffodils, and calla-lilies.  My favorite was the rose bed that had roses of all sizes and colors.  Wild honeysuckle grew along the fences and gave off the sweetest aroma.  I was so happy that I had decided to visit.

I noticed that a fountain was now in the middle of the garden.  It was flowing with clear water.  I took a seat in one of the benches in front of it.  For a moment, I felt as if I was back in my fantasy garden – the one I created at the Bellanovas’ home.  I closed my eyes for a moment.  I was suddenly overcome by the feeling that someone was standing behind me.  As the feeling gave way to certainty, I felt a prickly chill run up my spine.  I hurriedly opened my eyes and turned around.

“Hi, Kat.  I thought I might find you here.”  I knew I must be dreaming.  It was Max.

I stood up to prove to myself that he was real.  “Hello, Max,” I managed.  I was nervous.  I wondered if he somehow knew I’d been inside his house.  I felt very uneasy.

“I’ve sort of been avoiding you these last two weeks.”  His eyes were level with mine.  I couldn’t read them.  Was he here to chastise me?  Or was this his obligatory meeting to confirm his and Julie’s reconciliation?

“That’s understandable.  It surprises me to see you here.  I figured you and Julie would be on a second honeymoon by now.”  I wasn’t going to let him lower the boom on me.  I had made up my mind.  Max was never going to hurt me again.

He chuckled softly.  “We never even had a honeymoon to begin with.  I could never afford one.”

His eyes were so intensely blue, and they sparkled when he laughed.  Stop it, I told myself.  Don’t let him get to you.

He looked away for a moment.  “I never knew this would be so hard.  Please give me a minute.”

At least he was trying to break my heart gently.  Still, he didn’t look as if he dreaded telling me anything.  He seemed rather content.

He stepped around in front of the bench and faced the fountain.  Looking at him, I wondered why he meant so much to me.  He was just an ordinary guy.  He wasn’t handsome or extraordinarily smart.  He wasn’t a king or a god.  He was only human.  He wasn’t even the same Max that often appeared in my dreams and my fantasies.  I had turned him into some kind of legend when in fact he was just a normal, everyday, imperfect man.  Realizing this did nothing to diminish the yearning in my heart.  It simply made me question my sanity.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.  “I’m glad they added it.”  I looked at the fountain.  It was only ordinary concrete and steel, but, to me, it was beautiful.  Maybe I wasn’t insane after all.  The seemingly ordinary often holds a secret charm – a mystical appeal – for some people.  I suppose that is how I feel about Max.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that Max had returned to my side.  We were standing toe-to-toe, and I knew he was about to let me down easily.  He slowly lifted his face to mine.  Our eyes met for one brief instant and his hand touched my face, but that moment never had time to register.  Out of the blue, Max was kissing me.  His lips pressed against mine as he pulled me into his arms.  My body was at war with itself as I felt my insides catch on fire at the same time thousands of chills rushed through me.  I never wanted that moment to end, yet I needed to know why he was kissing me.

As we moved apart from each other, I felt a tear leave the corner of my eye and trickle down my cheek.  Max gently wiped it away.  “Hey – this is no time for tears.  I thought you would be happy.”

I couldn’t speak.  My tongue was in knots, and I knew sobs would follow if I opened my mouth.  I smiled and nodded my head.  I hoped he would realize that my tears were expressing my elation.

“I guess I should explain.”  Max pushed me down on the bench and sat beside me.  He held my hands in his and continued.  “I never really understood the depth of your feelings for me, Kat.  I always thought I was just the guy you had a crush on.  When I learned that you had loved me for all these years – well, that really blew me out of the water.  On top of that, you wanted to help me get back with Julie.  At first I thought you were on some kind of masochistic kick.  But then I realized you really did love me and you wanted me to be happy – no matter what the cost to you.  I started thinking about that, and I started thinking about Julie.”

Here we go.  He found out about Julie, and he was rebounding to me.  I made myself say, “You heard Olivia’s message, didn’t you?  I wish...”

“Olivia’s message?  I never had a message from Olivia.  Was it about Julie?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “Yes.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.  Julie and I are getting a divorce.”

“She’s leaving you?  Is that what this is all about?”  Why was I trying to argue?  Why couldn’t I just take him and forget about the reason?

He squeezed my hands tightly.  “I’m divorcing her, Kat.  Let me explain.  Two weeks ago when I left your apartment, I was planning to go to Evelyn’s to see Julie.  Halfway there, I realized that I didn’t know if I wanted to see Julie.  All I could think about was you.  I drove home, and I spent the next week trying to figure out where my head was.  I went back and forth with this.  When I finally stopped listening to my head and started listening to my heart, I immediately knew what I wanted.  I called Julie and asked her for a divorce.”

I felt the chills coming again, and my eyes were starting to water.  I was afraid that I would wake up and this would all be a dream.  Max’s hands felt so real – rough and sweaty, tender and warm.  It couldn’t be a dream.  Max really cared for me.  The flood of emotion that was sweeping over me was daunting.  My knees were weak, and I wondered if I was going to collapse out here in public.

Max sensed what was going on.  “Let me drive you home.  We can take your car if you want.  I can come back for my car later.  I don’t think anyone would want to steal it.”

He helped me to my car, and we drove back to my apartment.  When we got inside, he brought me a glass of water and he stroked my hair.  “I should have known this would be a shock to you.”

“It’s a good shock, Max.  I’m still having trouble believing it.”  I was feeling calmer, but there were still some unanswered questions that I couldn’t overlook.  “I still wonder what could have happened to Olivia’s message?  She left it on your answering machine Monday.  I guess it’s not important, but it is a mystery.”

“She left it Monday – this past Monday?”  I nodded my head, and Max went on.   “That explains it.  Julie came over after I told her I wanted a divorce.  You see, she had decided that she wanted us to work things out.  She brought all of her stuff with her so she could move back in.  I tried to make her see that it was over, but she was insistent.  I finally packed my bags and went over to my dad’s.  The next day – Sunday – Dad and I had a yard sale and I got rid of most of my furniture.  Julie kept the futon she had taken with her to Evelyn’s, and she stayed in the house.  I guess she thought I would come back, but I didn’t.  She was in the house Monday – in fact, she’s still there – so she got the message.  It’s not such a mystery.”

It all made sense.  The house had changed, and Julie came back before I could leave.  Now came another difficult task: I had to tell Max not only about Julie, but also about my housebreaking act.

“I must tell you about the message.  Julie has a boyfriend – or at least he appears to be her boyfriend.  He was at Evelyn’s that Saturday when Olivia and I went by there.”  I watched Max’s face for any signs of emotion, but there were none.  “I didn’t want to tell you.  I was afraid you would hold it against me some day.  Besides, I wanted you to love me for me – not because you couldn’t have Julie.”

Max stared at me intently, but he didn’t speak.  I decided to go on.  “Olivia felt you had a right to know, so she called and left the message for you.  Then she had a change of heart.  You won’t believe what we did next...”  I continued on with the tale of our break-in, the missing message, and Julie’s untimely arrival.  Max remained stern faced through the entire account, and I feared that he was becoming outraged.  When I finished, I said, “Can you ever forgive me?”

At last he smiled.  Then he laughed out loud.  “I wish I could have seen that!  I can’t believe the two of you broke into my house.  That is really hilarious.”  I stared at him, dismayed by his reaction.  “What?” he said.  “Did you think it would upset me to know that Julie is seeing someone else?  I couldn’t care less what she does.  Not anymore.”

“That’s it then?” I asked.

“Yeah.  I forgive you, Kat.  I forgive you for everything.  Wait – there is one thing I can never, ever forgive you for...”

I felt panicky.  “What’s that?”

“I will never forgive you for giving our club that stupid name.  Do you know I still can’t pronounce it?”

We both began laughing, and Max pulled me into his arms.  As he kissed me again, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.  Max was real and he was mine at long last.

I spoke with Olivia early Saturday morning.  I was out of bed by seven o’clock.  I was so eager to see Elton John that I couldn’t sleep.  Olivia was still sleeping, but I woke her up anyway.

“Are you ready for tonight?” I asked her.

“Kat, it’s not even eight o’clock.  The concert is twelve hours away.”

“I know, but I’m excited.  What time should we leave?”

“If you really want to, you can give my ticket to Max.  You did pay for it.”

“I want to go with you, Olivia.  Max understands.  When should we leave?”

Olivia thought for a minute.  “I guess we should go around four-thirty.  Is that okay?  It takes about two hours to get to Biloxi.”

“I guess that’s okay.  Maybe we’ll have time to eat.  But I want to get there early.”

“I understand.  We will get there in plenty of time.  Just let me get some sleep.”

Max came over at around eight.  I attempted to cook him some breakfast, but we wound up eating out.  We went back to my apartment and spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon snuggled up on the couch watching some rented movies.

At three-thirty, Max said he was leaving so I could get ready for the concert.  He stood up and pulled me to my feet.  He kissed me and said, “I love you, Katrina.  I really love you.”

It was the first time he had said those words to me.  He held me in his arms and I melted into him so that we felt like one being.  This was indeed the happiest day of my life.

Olivia and I arrived at The Coliseum in Biloxi shortly before seven.  The parking lot was already crowded, and we had to park far from the entrance.  I was wearing a neon jacket that I hoped would catch Elton’s eye.  Olivia wore a black blouse because she hoped to remain anonymous.  For one night we seemed to be exchanging personalities.  On the way to our seats, I bought a program and a T-shirt.  Olivia bought a program, too.  Finally we made it to our front row destination.  I felt certain that I would explode before Elton ever made it to the stage.

At precisely eight o’clock, Elton appeared in a black suit that sported rhinestones on one shoulder.  He wore rimless glasses with a red tint.  He was a little less flamboyant and a little chubbier, but he was the same old Elton.  Emotion swept over me at the sight of him and tears flowed down my cheeks.  He did many of his old tunes and a number of his newer songs.  He made Olivia’s night by doing “Crocodile Rock”, and, of course, he played my favorite, “Daniel”.  About halfway through the concert, he stopped to sign a few autographs.  He didn’t make it to where I was standing, but I still held out hope.

As eleven o’clock drew near, I started to worry that I might not get his autograph.  He finished up “Rocket Man” and then disappeared from the stage.  Of course, the crowd begged him to come back for an encore, and suddenly he was coming back.  Olivia and I jumped up and down, and I almost fainted when he shook my hand and signed his name on my program book.  I barely heard the last songs of the night – I was floating somewhere on a cloud between heaven and earth.  Three hours and two encores after he first stepped on stage, Elton took a final bow and the lights came up.  I now knew why Elton John had always been my idol, and Olivia finally understood, too.  She joined the ranks of Elton’s fans that night.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Olivia and I waited in our seats – still somewhat mesmerized by the talent of the man.  Olivia looked over at me.  “Well, Kat, how do you feel?”

I looked at my friend.  This had happened because of her.  “Like all of my dreams have come true,” I told her.

“They have.  You saw Elton in concert, got his autograph, and shook his hand.  And you found true love with the man of your dreams.  It took twenty-five years, but it all finally came together.”  Olivia was happy for me.  She was such a good friend.

I thought about what she’d just said.  She’d missed one important fact that I had only just realized myself.  I said to her, “I have everything I ever wanted, Olivia.  Seeing Elton was great.  And finally winning Max – well, that was miraculous.  But I’ve also got something else that’s even more important.  I just hate that it’s taken me twenty-five years to realize that you are the best thing that ever happened to me.  You’ll always be my best friend.  I love you, Olivia.  Without you, none of my dreams could have come true.”

She sat there staring at me – unable to speak.  Life was as perfect as it would ever be.  All the blind squirrels had finally found their nut.

I stood up and hugged Olivia as the people continued to file out of The Coliseum.   Then the lights in the building went down before anyone could see that we were crying.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17