Dreams of Paradise

by R. B. Conroy

  “Sounds like me.”

  “Yea, tell me about it. Mr. One-Under.”

  A smile appeared on Joe’s face.

  “Hey, since we got a minute, Doc, how are you and that hot babe of yours getting along?”

  “Oh, you mean Susan?”

  “No, I mean Jennifer Anniston.”

  Joe chuckled. “She’s a lot of fun and we have a great time together. It’s just that…uh,”

  “What is it, boy, spit it out.”

  Joe tossed the ball back and forth nervously between his hands. “It’s just that she’s been making overtures to me about the possibility of us living together.”

  Mario’s eyes went wide. He sat up in his seat and leaned toward Joe. “She has? Wow! Send her my way, buddy!”

  Joe stopped tossing the ball and folded his arms on his chest. “It’s not that simple, Mar. She’s a looker alright, but I got three strikes against me. Adele’s only been gone two years, I’m Catholic, and my daughter is dead set against it.”

  The wise-cracking Mario suddenly got quiet, an understanding gaze filled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a tough one. It sounds like it would be a piece of cake and all that, but I know what you’re saying, Joe. That livin’ together BS is for the younger generation. As far as Heather is concerned, that would be huge to her. She was so close to her mom. I can see what you mean, buddy, that’s a tough decision.”

  Joe paused; a gust of wind rattled the leaves on the large palm tree next to their cart. “There are other folks down here that are living together and I know it’s something that Susan really wants, but I just don’t feel comfortable with it. I’m really starting to have doubts--especially since Heather moved down here and all.”

  Mario laid his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder, “I want you to think about something, Joe.”

  Joe turned toward his crusty old friend.

  “Okay.”

  “Try and think about what our beloved Father Tom, God rest his soul, would have said to you about this if he was still living.”

  Joe’s eyes glazed over at the mention of Father Tom. Joe and Mario had always been good practicing Catholics, even during growing up years in Pittsburgh. Being mischievous and all boy, the two of them got into their share of trouble along the way, but Father Tom was always there to give them advice and counsel and he never disappointed.

  Chin on chest, Joe spoke softly, “He was a great man, Mar. He always had a way of making sense out of the most difficult situations. He would sit down with me at times of trouble and suddenly I felt better about things--he was amazing.” Joe looked toward the sky and sighed, “I know he’s watching me right now and I know what he would say--no doubt about it.”

  Mario squeezed Joe’s shoulder, “So do I, my friend, so do I.” Suddenly there was a loud blast from behind.

  “Would you lovebirds get going up there, the tee is open!” Ned shouted, hand on horn.

  “Jam it!” Mario barked.

  Joe looked with affection at Mario. “Thanks for your honesty, Mar. I knew I could count on you to tell me the truth.”

  “Buds for life!” Mario replied. The two men touched fists and winced in fright at yet another blast from Ned’s excruciatingly loud horn. Joe leaned up and hit the gas pedal and the cart shot forward toward the next tee. Joe glanced over his shoulder and saw the over-anxious Ned racing toward them. Joe smiled and shook his head as Mario raised his middle finger and jabbed it in the air several times in the direction of Ned’s cart.

  Chapter 25

  “I understand, Mr. Huffman, I really do, but I think he’s just having a difficult time adjusting to a new school, a new town, and new friends. It’s a larger school than he’s used to and the diversity of the student body here is so much different than the student body at Holy Cross. It would be a challenge for anyone to deal with so many changes, but especially a twelve-year old boy. As you might expect, he really misses his friends up north.”

  The steely-eyed principal lowered his chin and looked over the top of his eyeglasses which were perched precariously on the end of his rather long nose. “As you can imagine, Mrs. Wilkins, we have a very large number of transfers here at Carver Middle School. People are transferring to this area in mass for a variety of reasons--our wonderful climate, employment opportunities at the nearby Villages, and in some cases to be close to their aging parents. We have considerable experience in dealing with transfers and I feel we do a very nice job of attempting to assimilate those new students into our fine school, which has earned an A rating, by the way.”

  Heather, flashed a half smile and scooted forward on her chair. “Mr. Huffman, I’m sure you have a…..”

  Mr. Huffman interrupted, “I’m sorry to say, Mrs. Wilkins, that in my opinion, your son’s problem is not the result of his change in locale. After conferring with the Dean of Students, his counselor, and several of his teachers, I have come to the conclusion that Mark’s biggest problem is his resistance to authority. He doesn’t seem to accept direction very well and we have a rather strict disciplinary code here at Carver. We have little tolerance for any insubordination from our students. We feel that we are in charge--not the students.”

  Heather’s head shook almost as a reflex to what the principal had just said. Not making eye contact, she attempted to make her case. “What you have to understand, Mr. Huffman, is that Mark has always attended private schools up north and they have a tendency to let the students express themselves a little more freely than public schools. Mark is accustomed to a very open school environment--one that allows for a lot of give and take with the teachers.”

  Mr. Huffman glanced at the large fish tank tucked in the corner of his rather small office and collected his thoughts and then he turned his attention back to Heather. “He is used to give and take with the teachers, you say. Well, good for him, but you see, Mrs. Wilkins, we are not quite as enlightened here at Carver as your private schools up north. We are still operating under the outdated philosophy that twelve year olds still need a little direction in their lives. We have over 800 students in our school of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities, and we really don’t have time to debate every disciplinary action with every student. I’m sure that you understand.”

  Heather tittered nervously, “I’m sorry, I think I’m coming across as an uppity snob here. I can assure you, that’s not my intention. It’s just that I’m worried about my son. It has been quite a change for him coming to Florida and everything.”

  The principal smiled warmly, “Uppity is too strong a word. I believe you’re just trying to explain your son’s behavior as best you can. It’s obvious that you love your son and want what is best for him, and change is never easy for anyone--Mark is no different.”

  “Thank you for those kind words, Mr. Wilkins.”

  “If I may change the subject for a moment. I would like to thank you for something.”

  “Oh really, what is that?”

  “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you and your dental practice down the street. I know for a fact that you’ve helped many of my disadvantaged students with their dental care. I’ve been told that there are instances in which you don’t charge them at all. That is indeed an admirable thing to do and I want you to know how much the help you are giving my students is appreciated.”

  Somewhat embarrassed by the unexpected compliment, a pink-faced Heather replied, “Why thank you. I feel it’s important for those of us who have been given so much to give back.”

  “You are indeed doing that. Thanks again so much.” The principal paused briefly and then went on, “As far as Mark goes, he’s not a bad kid and he is certainly not one of our more serious problems here at Carver, but forgive me for saying this,” he leaned forward, slid his glasses off his nose and held them in his hand, “I think you need to stop soothing your guilty feelings about moving him down here by blaming the school and start giving your child what he needs.”

  “Which is?”

  “A swift kick in the fann
y or something equally as convincing is what he needs. Mark is a good boy, he just needs YOU to tell him to mind his teachers. He’s a bright boy and he’ll do well in life, but he needs to learn some life lessons that only you can teach him. I can tell from talking to him that he admires you greatly, being a dentist and all, so I’m not going to impose any disciplinary restrictions on Mark this time. I’m going to let you take care of it. Fair enough?”

  Heather squirmed in her seat at his suggestion. “That’s certainly a novel approach.” All of a sudden the dismissal bell reverberated through Mr. Huffman’s office. The sound of children’s voices and locker doors opening and shutting could be heard in the nearby hallway.

  Mr. Huffman’s voice went up a couple of octaves to compensate for the noisy hallway. “Maybe so, but in the long run, it’s the best approach for you and Mark. Do we have a deal?” He put his glasses back on and stuck his bony hand forward for a shake.

  Heather took a deep breath and stood next to her seat. She paused for a moment and then grabbed Mr. Huffman’s hand for a quick shake. “Deal,” she replied.

  “Great!” Mr. Huffman smiled broadly and then poked the lever on his intercom. “Alice, would you send Mark Wilkins to my office, please.”

  The slender Mark, wearing blue jeans and a white golf shirt, ambled into the office, chin on chest, not making eye contact with either Mr. Huffman or his mother. Hands folded in front of him, he stopped and stood next to his mother, and looked down at the floor with a nervous grin on his face.

  “Mark.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mark mumbled.

  “Your mother and I have had a nice heart-to-heart about your situation and have decided on a course of action. I believe your mother has something to say to you.” He lifted his chin and looked over at the startled Heather who mouthed the word “Now?” to the unflinching principal. He mouthed the word “yes”, followed by a quick, hard nod of his head toward Mark.

  “Well…uh Mr. Huffman tells me that you’ve been talking back to your teachers quite a bit. Is that true?”

  Without lifting his head, Mark nodded in the affirmative.

  “Well son, I’m promising Mr. Huffman right now, in front of you, that you will cease such behavior in the future. The next time a teacher, any teacher, asks you to do something, you will do what they ask. You will not, under any circumstances, talk back to that teacher. Do you understand me?”

  The young boy, seemingly unmoved by his mother’s plea, said “Yes, Mom, I promise.”

  With eyes narrowed, the tall principal admonished the young man, “I’ll be watching you, Mark, and reporting back to your mother, so you had better do as she asks.”

  “I will.”

  “Well, then this meeting is over.” He smiled at Heather, “It was nice meeting you and I hope the next time we meet it will be for more pleasant reasons.”

  “I hope so also and it was nice meeting you too, sir.” Heather and the principal shook hands quickly and she exited the office with her rebellious son in tow.

  Chapter 26

  Heather Wilkins breathed a sigh of relief as she exited off the busy 441 for the short drive to her two-bedroom condo overlooking Lake Harris near Leesburg. Her defiant son, his curly brown hair dangling down over his eyes, was busy sending one of the literally hundreds of text messages he so vigorously scripted each day. The ride home from Carver Middle School had been rather uneventful with her son Mark saying only that Mr. Huffman was a jerk. Susan had been brave in front of the principal, but once again when alone with him, she lost her courage. She just grimaced and said nothing about the disrespectful comment. Burdened with a huge sense of guilt concerning her son, she blamed herself for his negative behavior and just couldn’t bring herself to try and rein in the unruly youngster.

  Over the past few years, life had not been easy for Heather. Forty-two and recently divorced from her philandering husband of nineteen years and still saddened by the death of her mother, she had decided to leave her hometown of Pittsburgh and move to Florida so she and Mark could be close to her retired father. She had been in Leesburg a little more than a year now and although she liked being close to her father, the move hadn’t been easy. A dentist by trade, she was able to buy an existing practice in Leesburg and set up shop shortly after arriving in Leesburg. Susan enjoyed her new practice. It was one of the few bright spots in her otherwise stressful life.

  Son Mark was just finishing the sixth grade when they left Pittsburgh. A friendly and outgoing kid back in Pittsburgh, he was vehemently against the move to Florida and he let his mom know it. No sooner had they arrived in Leesburg, a sullen Mark blurted out that he hated the weather in Florida. “It’s too frickin’ hot and humid down here!” he screamed at her. His new school, Carver Middle School, proved to be a far cry from the genteel surroundings of the private school he attended in Pittsburgh. At his former school, his friends were all sons and daughters of professional people, such as, doctors, attorneys, bankers and others involved in the business world. The actual school was much different also. With marble columns at the entry and wide carpeted hallways leading to the classrooms that resembled fancy lounges in an swanky hotel, Mark hated Carver immediately calling it a “a shithole”, and nothing Heather could say or do would change his opinion. He was angry and upset and he blamed his mother for all of it.

  Susan glanced at her long-faced son. “You’re going to have to try and do better at school. Mr. Huffman is losing his patience.”

  Mark scowled and kept texting, avoiding eye contact with his mom.

  “You seem so unhappy, son. Isn’t there anything you like about Florida?” There was a sense of resignation in Heather’s voice.

  “Grandpa,” came the quick reply.

  Heather’s brow raised, “Well, that’s good. Maybe you could spend the night with your grandpa sometime?”

  The boy’s eyes brightened. He looked sideways at his mom. “Does he want me to stay?”

  “I’m sure he will, let me give him a call.” She lifted her phone off the center console and punched the speed dial. Her dad’s voice came on after only one ring.

  “Hi honey, how’d the meeting go?”

  “Pretty good, it was productive, I think.”

  Mark sneered and mouthed the words” bullshit”.

  “Oh good, Heather, I’m glad to hear that. It hasn’t been easy for Mark, but he’s a good boy.”

  “I know, Dad, he sure is. Hey Dad, would it be okay if Mark spent the night with you again? He says he misses his grandpa.”

  “I didn’t say that!” Mark glared at his mother.

  “Why, certainly. I’d love to have Mark come over for the night. We could get up in the morning and ride the golf cart over to the Hibiscus Rec Center and play a game or two of bocce ball. I would enjoy that.”

  “Which night is good for you, Friday or Saturday?”

  “Well, let me check my schedule and get back with you. Susan and I have plans this weekend, but I’m not sure which day. I’m in the car right now on my way home from Lake Sumter. I will check my schedule when I get home and give you a call back.”

  “Okay, Dad, that’s fine. Talk to you later.” Heather winced at the mention of her dad’s lady friend, Susan. Happy that her father had found companionship after the passing of her mother, Heather felt things were moving just a little too fast with the aggressive Susan. She was especially concerned recently, when during a backyard barbecue at her place in Leesburg, her father told her that there was a possibility that he and Susan might live together. Shocked and surprised, she waited a second to collect her thoughts, and then she let him know her feelings on the matter in no uncertain terms, telling him that she felt it was “sinful and defiled the memory of her mother.” Her father said he was sorry she felt that way and that Susan was a fine woman.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a poke to the arm. “I didn’t say I missed Grandpa,. You make me sound like a big wimp!” he snarled.

  Heather sighed, “Sorry.”

 
“Did Grandpa say that he wanted me to stay over?”

  “Yes, he certainly did. He just wants to check his schedule when he gets home and then he’s going to get back with me.”

  Mark’s eyes narrowed, “He’s probably going to do something with that woman.”

  “Your grandpa was very lonely after your grandma died. It’s nice that he has someone to share his life with and Susan seems very nice.”

  “She’s not my grandma.”

  “Why, of course not, son, no one can ever replace your Grandma Adele, but your grandpa enjoys being with Susan and we should be happy for him.”

  “He probably won’t be able to see me because of her. He’s with her all the time.”

  Heather agreed with the “with her all the time” statement, but she wanted her son to have a good relationship with her father, so she tried to smooth things over. “I’m sure he will have time for you, son. He loves being with you.”

  Mark went back to texting.

  The car rolled slowly under a big live oak tree across the street from their condo. Fallen branches from the scraggily tree crunched under the tires as the van passed underneath. She cruised into the drive and punched the garage door opener. She slowed to a stop and waited for the door to finish opening. During the pause, Heather thought once again of her father. She was appalled at the thought of him living with Susan out of wedlock. A good Catholic, she felt that it went against the tenants of the Catholic faith and disrespected her mother. The door jerked to a stop. Susan gently nudged the accelerator and pulled slowly into the garage. “We’re home,” she announced, attempting to lighten the heavy mood in the car.

  Without speaking, cell phone in hand, Mark quickly pushed the passenger side door open, jumped out and headed for the house, slamming the door behind him. She watched as he scurried into the house, making a beeline for his bedroom.

  “Kids,” she groaned.

  Chapter 27

  Susan pulled the belt snug on her white silk dressing gown and lifted the steaming pot off the coffee maker and poured herself a morning cup of coffee. She liked the way her robe fit. It seemed to cling to her body, emphasizing her round, firm backside and ample breasts. Susan knew that she had one of the best bodies in The Villages and Joe knew it too. She could tell by the way he looked at her when she scurried to the bathroom after their lovemaking. Her body was her best weapon in this high profile world of wealth and privilege in which she found herself. The other women she had become acquainted with had a lot more money and were much better educated, but none of them had a better figure than she.