Rapture

by Thomas Tessier

  "Think you can eat any breakfast?" Sean asked in an even tone.

  "As a matter of fact, I'm starved," Jeff replied. He knew he wasn't sick, so he had no fear that he'd throw up again. "And I know I have room for it." He forced his expression into a broad smile, and held it.

  "How do you like your eggs?" Georgianne asked.

  "Any way you serve them," he said. "You know, the next time, I think I'll go swimming with you and leave Sean to his running around in the woods." He gave Georgianne a deliberate wink.

  "You got a date," she responded cheerfully.

  "How's that Union Carbide business coming?" Sean asked. "Are you going to be back here at any time in the near future?"

  There was nothing remarkable about the way Sean put these questions, but his feelings were clear to Jeff, who wished he could come up with an answer that would leave the other man in a state of private torment. But what could he say? He knew it would be a mistake to carry the Union Carbide charade too far.

  "You know how it is with an outfit that big," he said. "They have a lot of people to rope into line before they actually commit themselves to anything. We'll see how it turns out. Dealing with them makes me glad I've got my own company, though. It's just the right size, a good team, and if we want to do something, explore this or that line of research, we go ahead and get on with it."

  Bonnie stumbled into the room, eyes half-closed, hair tousled. She wore a boy's white shirt, definitely too small to be one of Sean's castoffs. The cut of the shirttail gave a brief glimpse of bikini briefs and fanny. Georgianne rolled her eyes and sighed disapprovingly at this display.

  "We've got company for breakfast, you know," she reminded her daughter.

  Bonnie sat down at the table. "Oh, hi," she said to Jeff with a sleepy smile.

  "Good morning."

  It was difficult for. him not to keep glancing at Bonnie, she was such a beautiful girl. A window on the past. He could look at her now and see what Georgianne looked like first thing in the morning, right out of bed, half awake and sensual. It was a distracting sight.

  "When is your flight?"

  This came from Georgianne, and Jeff noted sadly that they were already adjusting to his departure. Life would soon return to normal, and he and she would forget about each other until the next time-if there ever was a next time. People live by the routines, and the Corcorans were anticipating the resumption of theirs. The excitement of the reunion was fading fast. Life goes on-like a small death, Jeff thought. But he hadn't forgotten about Georgianne in all this time, and he wouldn't start now.

  "I don't know," he said. "I may stay overnight in New York and fly out sometime tomorrow. I haven't seen the city in ages. Or I may decide to fly out this evening. Either way, I'm driving down this afternoon."

  Georgianne served mounds of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a plate of toast. The coffee perked like a drum roll, and they all started eating.

  "Even if this Union Carbide business goes through," Jeff suddenly volunteered, on a whim, "it's not that big a deal, to tell you the truth."

  "No?"

  "Well, it'll be very nice, of course," he continued. "But our main work, our most important work, is with a couple of other large companies, on the West Coast." Georgianne and Bonnie looked interested, but Sean's expression said he couldn't care less. Jeff thought, I'll change that. "I'd appreciate it very much if you'd keep this to yourselves," he went on. "The fact is, we're working on an important aspect of the SDI."

  Georgianne didn't get it, but Bonnie's eyebrows went up, and Sean understood. He looked as if he didn't know whether or not to believe Jeff.

  "Star Wars," Bonnie exclaimed. "Wow!"

  Georgianne nodded in recognition now.

  "Are they spending money on that already?" Sean asked.

  "The money, well ... money is always there," Jeff said with a condescending smile. "Several companies have been working on various parts of what will be the SDI package for years now. That's how it goes. This project is irresistible. And once private work and research get to a certain point, everything else falls in place, and the government money starts pouring init's on the way now. Of course, it's a great project, and absolutely necessary. There's no future in building only more warheads. We've done that trip."

  "What's your part of it?" Bonnie asked. "I mean, if it's not a state secret." She was genuinely interested, which pleased Jeff.

  "It's incredibly complex," he told her. "And I can't go into any kind of detail. But, basically, we're trying to develop a preliminary set of sensor signature codes for the computer banks. So they can tell the difference between a missile being launched and, say, a natural-gas flare-off, or a truck exploding in an accident ... anything like that."

  "I don't know," Sean said gloomily. "Why don't they save a lot of time and money and just dismantle all those nuclear weapons everywhere?"

  Again Jeff smiled at the other man's naivete. "Right up the street from me in Santa Susana," he said, "North American Rockwell has the world's largest land-based laser, and it's fully operational. You can't stop research. These things have a life of their own. Once you say A, you must say B."

  "Oh, really?" Sean had a look of cool cynicism on his face, as if he finally understood Jeff.

  But Jeff was paying no attention to Sean. He had been addressing his remarks to Georgianne and Bonnie, and now he realized that the teenager was a potential ally. He should have seen it sooner. It was hard not to think of her as just a sexy little high school kid, but she was a brilliant student on her way to Harvard. Bonnie was the only one here who could understand the significance of his work. She looked impressed.

  "I may have a job for you in a few years," he told the girl. "The other really exciting frontier we're working on is the marriage between molecular biology and supercomputers."

  Bonnie's eyes widened, and then she grinned and said, "I'm interested, I'm very interested."

  `Okay. Do well at Harvard and you can write your own ticket. The possibilities are infinite."

  Sean wore his gloomy expression again. Jeff stopped talking, satisfied that he had achieved his purpose. It wasn't at all like him to tell others about himself or his work, but it had been necessary this morning, and he felt he had regained the stature he might have lost by emptying his belly at the Gorge. Now, whenever they heard Star Wars mentioned, they'd think of him. He had evened things up with Sean somewhat, although he still disliked the man intensely.

  After breakfast Jeff persuaded Georgianne to show him some of her sketches. She didn't want to, was surprisingly shy about them, but she gave in finally. Jeff liked them very much, though he admitted that he knew nothing about art.

  "That's all right," Georgianne said. "It's not art; it's simply therapy. Which one do you like most?"

  Jeff picked out a sketch of an old, falling-down barn, with a stone wall and a cluster of birches in the background. Georgianne gave it to him, rolling it up carefully and putting it in a cardboard tube. He would have preferred a self-portrait of Georgianne, but she did only country scenes. He promised to have it framed and to hang it on his wall as soon as he got back home.

  "And now I have to go," he said, looking at his watch.

  Bonnie was upstairs dressing, and Georgianne went to get her. Sean led Jeff out to the front step.

  "If you're back this way anytime, do call and stop by," he said. "Come and stay with us next time; never mind about a hotel."

  'Thanks very much. I really appreciate your hospi tality. I've had a great time, meeting you and your daughter, and of course seeing Georgianne after all this time."

  "I mean it," $ean repeated. "Come see us."

  The mistake, Jeff thought. 'I}+pical. He had to say he meant it. You can trust some people to show how false they are by overemphasizing their sincerity.

  "You've got a wonderful home and a wonderful family," Jeff said, since that seemed to be what Sean wanted to hear.

  "Ah, I know it. I tell you, Jeff, sometimes I think teaching kids is a bit of
a drag, you know. It stops being exciting or even fun after a few years. The administration, the parents-it's all a load of crap, for the most part. But then I think, Hey, I have a woman I love dearly, who loves me dearly, and we have a beautiful, very bright daughter who shares the love and makes us proud every day. And we have this house, so ... what it all adds up to, I guess, is that however much I might want to gripe or complain, I know I've got the world by the balls. I mean, as long as we're healthy, we should all be grateful for what we have, and consider ourselves lucky. Right?"

  "That's exactly right," Jeff said, putting his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't punch Sean in the mouth. What a smug little bastard this guy was. I've got it, I've got mine, the wife, the daughter, the house. So long, pal, and come back in another twenty years if the smoking hasn't killed you in the meantime. That's how it all translated to Jeff, a kind of gloating dismissal.

  Then Georgianne and Bonnie came out of the house, and he didn't have to suffer Sean alone any more.

  "Well, good luck with the work and all that," Sean said as he shook Jeffs hand.

  "Thanks. Take care of yourself," Jeff said. "And these two fine women."

  "I Will."

  Bonnie was wearing cutoffs and a blouse now, and her hair was brushed. She stepped forward to shake Jeffs hand.

  "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lisker," she said rather too formally.

  "Jeff," he corrected, smiling. "And it was nice to meet you. I'll expect to hear that you're knocking them out at Harvard. I know you're going to do really well."

  "Thanks." She smiled at him.

  He turned to Georgianne. "You know," he told her, "it's impossible for me to look at Bonnie and not see you. She looks so much like you did in high school." Georgianne smiled warmly, a little embarrassed perhaps, but proud. "It's been very good to see you again," he continued. "Really very, very good ..."

  "And you, Jeff," Georgianne said.

  She hugged him, and he squeezed her tightly to his body, holding her as long as he reasonably could, and then a little longer. He knew that if he did nothing in the future, if he failed to come up with an idea, this embrace might have to last him the rest of his life. They kissed each other, like friends, on the cheek. Then they promised to keep in touch, perhaps by letter but more likely with the occasional telephone call.

  Jeff thanked them all again, got in his car, and, after a final wave of the hand and honk of the horn, he drove slowly back to Danbury.

  Sean will think, Good riddance, Jeff told himself as he rolled on out of Foxrock. Bonnie would probably forget him within the hour. And Georgianne? The memory of Jeff's visit would stay alive in her for a few days, perhaps, a week at most. But then she'd be back in her little groove, and he'd be three thousand miles away.

  He had to shower, pack his suitcase, and check out of the hotel. Then on to New York, Los Angeles. He still hadn't made up his mind whether to take the first available flight or to waste a night in Manhattan. But he was glad to be on the move again.

  He had reached the point where it hurt to stay in Danbury and see Georgianne with Sean. His curiosity was now completely satisfied, and the visit had been worthwhile. To see Georgianne looking so glorious, and to meet Bonnie ... he envied them Bonnie. It could have been different, he thought, so very different. Georgianne could have been his wife, Bonnie his daughter. But that was another lifetime, and he had misread it all, back then. Seeing Georgianne now had cleared it up for him, and that was another part of the hurt.

  A wonderful, terrible truth had been revealed to him on this trip east. He understood now, consciously and clearly, as he never had before, that he loved Georgianne-and that he wanted her, more than ever. He'd been secretly in love with her all the time they'd been in school together, so secretly and so deeply that he'd never managed to articulate it to himself, much less to her. But the spell was never quite broken in all the years that had followed. And there had been times over the years when he had actively thought about Georgianne, and he had done things he would rather not dwell on now...

  He had to do something now, that was now painfully obvious. If Sean was turning Georgianne into a house plant, Jeff could see that he had been turning himself into a zombie with his work obsession. The two of them, Jeff and Georgianne, had been drifting blindly through-life. They needed each other, and a way out. Jeff began to see himself and his life in a shocking new light. He hated what he saw, but at the same time he felt a new sense of exhilaration.

  Georgianne was there, ready to be won--of that Jeff had no doubt. She had been married to a twerp long enough for any passion to have died, and now her daughter, her only child, was about to leave home for college. It was a real turning point in Georgianne's life; a point of access and an advantage for Jeff. He wouldn't pass it up. He couldn't. Ideas blossomed like strange new flowers in his mind as he parked the car in the hotel lot and switched off the ignition. He sat there for a few moments, staring ahead but seeing nothing except his inner visions. Georgianne would fall into his arms, and Bonnie would come with her. Sean was on the way out; he just didn't know it yet. And why not? Why the fuck not? Jeff pounded the steering wheel with his fist and started to laugh.

  "Take her,' he said aloud. 'I'll just take her!" And as he said this over and over again, he fell in love with the words, what they meant and the sheer beautiful sound of them. He seemed to be completing a sentence he'd begun to form during some previous incarnation.

  PART II

  A Friend

  of the Family

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was nearly eleven in the morning when Jeff awoke. Saturday, the middle of June. He wasn't going to the office, not even for a few minutes. A change. But then, he'd been out drinking with Callie and Ted and a couple of other people after work the previous night, and that too was something of a change. While he showered, he wondered if he was beginning to drink too much. In the past, he had never been much of a socializer, and hardly ever drank. Never when he was alone.

  The trip east had done it, he knew. He had downed a lot of beers and no small amount of spirits in Connecticut. Not out of any determination to do so; it had just happened that way. He had brought this renewed taste for alcohol back to California with him. The change was undeniable, and while he sometimes had his doubts, he was, in general, pleased with it. One of the first things he had done after his return was to stop at a package store and buy a supply of whiskey to have around the house. Some Scotch, which he enjoyed with ice and a little cold bottled water, some bourbon for when he wanted more of a kick, and some rye, which was a mistake, he discovered the first time he tried it. He continued to drink beer, but as little as possible, since it made him feel bloated, smelly, and leaky if he had much of it. Now-after his journey to Connecticut-he was no longer averse to having a drink with his colleagues after work. Nor did he feel bad about a large solo nightcap back in his condo.

  Jeff dried himself, put on a black robe, and went into the kitchen, where he poured a glass of orange juice. Next he put the kettle on and spooned instant coffee into a cup. He had become a bit more sociable, that was all there was to it. And it was a good thing, he believed. Ted and Callie approved, and he could tell that others at Lisker-Benedictus had noticed the change.

  The kettle whistled. Jeff filled the stoneware mug with boiling water and stirred it thoroughly, until it looked almost like real coffee, which he was too lazy to make today. Then he went out onto the small balcony off the living room and sat in a plastic deck chair. Every condominium in Ravenswood Estate was designed to afford a good view of the canyon and to provide maximum privacy. It hadn't been cheap, but to Jeff it was worth the cost.

  He lit his first cigarette of the day. It had been five, maybe even six, weeks now since he'd seen Georgianne. No cards, letters, or telephone calls. But that was as he thought it should be. He would have been delighted if Georgianne had phoned him, but that was perhaps too much to hope for, and he had made no attempt to communicate with her. Only a week before, he had deb
ated whether to send Bonnie a graduation card, but once again he had decided that it would be a mistake to force himself into their lives at this distance. A plan was taking shape in his head, and although he knew only the rough outline of it so far, he didn't want to ruin it by any precipitous action.

  Georgianne was in his mind all the time now. After twenty years of being little more than a ghost, the object of vague and submerged yearnings, she had become the focal point of his conscious thought. At work he had to make an effort to concentrate, not to daydream about her. He had a whole new library of mental pictures to summon up and browse through lovingly whenever he liked. They went well with the lode of images of Georgianne in high school that came rushing back to him now. And then there was Bonnie, another person but somehow almost an alternate version of Georgianne. It wasn't hard for Jeff to see himself with both mother and daughter. That was the perfect picture.

  He stubbed out the cigarette and finished the cup of coffee. Inside, he picked up the telephone and began to dial a familiar number.

  "Hello."

  "Diane? Hi, it's Jeff."

  "Oh, hi, Jeffie," she said, her voice changing instantly. "Where've you been? I've really missed you. It's been ages, absolute ages since you came by...."

  "That's what I was thinking," he said. "And I've got that book to return to you. How about this afternoon?"

  "Uh ... just a sec." Then, "Jeffie, that'll be fine if you can come early. My mom and dad are going to be out, but they'll be back later."

  "So ... two o'clock?"

  "Yeah, or one-thirty would be even better."

  "Okay, one-thirty."

  After they'd talked a little longer, Jeff hung up, made a second cup of coffee, and went back out to the balcony. He had known Diane for about a year, and he regarded her as a friend. Of course, it was a bizarre relationship-he had to admit that. But it wasn't something new in his life. There had been others before Diane. Not one of them had been as good as Diane, and none had lasted this long. But even with Diane it was the same kind of thing, a facet of his needs and his behavior that he didn't really like but had come to accept. He could only hope that his plans for Georgianne came to fruition, in which case Diane would be redundant.