by R. D. Power
One customer will feature in our story: Kim Arnold, a svelte woman of sandy hair, fair complexion, and stunning hazel eyes. A widow in her mid-twenties who’d lost her husband almost two years prior courtesy of a drunk driver, she was affluent, smart, nice, lovely, and alone, which is a superior set of traits for any woman. There were swains aplenty, but she couldn’t conceive of remarrying, so in love had she been with her husband. Still, she enjoyed attracting men and would parade around her pool in a bikini while Robert was cutting the grass every Wednesday. Afterward, she would invite him to sit with her for a soft drink, and he would take the opportunity to study her titillating features while her head was turned. She turned her head often to foment his indulgence.
Jennifer went to live and work with her father in New York City for the summer. After turning thousands of male heads and turning down many dozens of pleas for dates—her father wouldn’t permit it—she ended the summer on a vainglorious high. Upon her return in late August, she exercised her conceit by demanding a pledge of fealty from Robert. When he returned the usual response, she snapped, “Your loss. Good riddance!”
But as she walked out, she thought she’d better ensure her cousin couldn’t intrude on her turf in case she decided to tread on it again. She turned around and said, “You seem to think you can get any girl because you had Krissy and me on a string for a while. Well, I have guys after me who put you to shame and I’m going to start dating them. And Krissy’s been dating some rich guy all summer, so you’ve lost her, too. She might well flirt with you again, but it’ll mean nothing. Her reputation at school is that she thinks no guy is good enough for her.” This was true; her standards for boys were in the stratosphere, but a girl possessed of all conceivable lures for ensnaring a man could afford to be persnickety. “She’ll be the friendliest girl in the world, but the minute any guy shows interest she turns cold on him.”
Jennifer knew precisely what button to push to set off his alarm. He immediately became suspicious of Kristen’s interest in him. “That leaves you with no one,” she concluded, as she walked out.
•
Back home after summer break, Kristen tried out her machinations on Robert. “I met a rich, handsome guy this summer. I’m really serious about him,” she told him.
“Oh, who is the poor bastard?”
Taken aback, she paused for a moment, then said, “He is definitely not poor.”
“But he is a bastard?”
“No. His name is Dominic Solano—of Solano Jewelers. We spent a lot of time together this summer.”
“Of Solano Jewelers?” Robert repeated, chortling. “He gave you that gold chain, I suppose?” Kristen nodded and smiled. “Well, I’m Bob Owens of defunct parents and all I have to give you is this,” he sneered, and he stuck out his tongue at her. “He’s all yours, Taylor. I guess that means I can’t have you,” he said, feigning tears and wiping his dry eyes. “Ah, shucks, that leaves only a billion other girls. So long.”
Kristen sighed. She tried to convince herself she liked Dominic better anyhow, but it was no use. When she wasn’t with Dominic, she was hard-pressed to specify why she was attracted to him outside of his looks and his means. When she wasn’t with Robert, she’d think of his hilarious remarks, of their inspiring conversations, of his alluring eyes, of him saving Jennifer’s life—in a word, of the exhilaration she felt when he was near. She often missed Robert; she never missed Dominic. And, oddly, she didn’t get jealous of Dominic, even though she now knew there was another girl—as Shannon had demonstrated—but the thought of Robert with another girl made her ill-tempered.
The two stayed on the outs until an opportunity for reconciliation came at friend’s party in early October. Caroline Carter, Kristen’s hard-looking friend, hosted one and invited Robert at Kristen’s request. When Kristen got to the party, Robert was already downstairs. Caroline came up to her and announced, “You, like, wanted to find out what Owens really thinks of you? Like, I gave him something to loosen his tongue.”
“What did you give him?” Kristen enquired.
“Just a glass of beer with, like, three ounces of straight alcohol in it. It’s, like, 180 proof. That one beer will be like drinking a six pack.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. He might get sick.”
“Yes, Miss Prissy,” teased Caroline. “It’s already done, so go downstairs and see how he, like, reacts to you.”
Kristen wandered downstairs and saw him applying himself to the spiked drink, and watching music videos. He was strewn across the couch in an attitude of supine ennui. She attempted to play it cool, but the unwitting smile and radiant eyes he impelled in her had become more obvious of late, which unmasked her true feelings. Her shimmering eyes caught his attention, and he stared for a time with a warm smile of his own, a thrilling turn of events for the enamored girl.
The liquor quickly took hold of his senses. The room began to gyrate, as though his drunkenness had overflowed to unsettle the very gravity around him. Robert got up and wavered. Steadying himself, he sashayed up to Kristen, trying to be cool by stepping to the thump of the song then blaring, but missing every beat by a second or so. “Where’sss Derrick?” he asked.
“You mean Dominic?”
“Derrick, Dominic. They both begin with duh and end in ick.”
“I haven’t seen him since August.”
“Sssit with me on the couch,” he suggested, while plummeting past it to the floor.
“You missed,” she pointed out, while laughing and taking a seat.
“I did not,” he answered before looking at his body—at least, he thought it was his—slumped on the floor, and determining the preponderance of evidence was with her. “Come on down here then,” he resumed, grabbing her foot and pulling. She slid off the couch, landing next to him. He leaned his head against hers and put his arms around her. “Taylor, you are ssso cute,” he proclaimed with such feeling he had to twist his head back and forth as he said “ssso” to express it all. Then he kissed her.
Astonished and elated, she was breathing quickly and casting at him that adoring gaze that young women besotted can’t suppress in passionate moments that says, “I want to have your children!” (Or maybe it means, “Touch me again like that, and I’ll see to it you never have children!”) Hers was a primal, subconscious response, her biology asserting itself. Our first kiss: October second, she mused. “Please stop calling me Taylor. Call me Krissy.”
“I thought only family could call you that,” he remarked.
“Anyone I feel really close to,” she declared, looking earnestly into his eyes. She threw her arms around him and attacked his mouth with hers.
Just when it seemed her fantasy was coming true, her cousin came downstairs and joined them. None of the boys at school could hold her interest, and she wanted Robert back. She wore jeans and a form-fitting white shirt with no bra, and snatched his undivided attention, except between left and right. He released Kristen and went for her cousin, grabbing her hand and yanking her down to the floor.
“Oh!” she yelped as she landed on his lap.
“Jenny, you are incwebwy boofoo … incweb … you’re va preiesssgirlonEarf!” he slurred, his ability to enunciate gone the way of gravity. Her face was so breathtaking he seldom looked lower, but the revealing shirt compelled his attention. The outfit Jennifer selected had the desired effect: the drunken lad couldn’t help gaping at her perfect curves and her barely concealed nipples. The uninhibited boy placed his hand on one breast. Jennifer moved it down to her waist. “I’mhappiess,” he paused to burp, “whenI’mwifyou.”
“What?” she giggled.
“Jusskissssme,” he said. There was such intense yearning in his eyes, she could see her great-grandchildren frolicking about his pupils. She was at once delighted and alarmed. He pulled her close and kissed again, this time more aggressively.
It was pleasurable, and she stopped resisting, but where is that hand going now? “Bobby Owens! Not in front of Krissy,” she r
eproached between kisses.
“Shoo!” he said to Kristen. She ran upstairs, almost in tears. As she was putting on her jacket to leave, she saw the two walk out, Robert leaning against Jennifer. The young detective elected to follow them to his house, wondering how far her cousin would go with him.
She waited a few minutes, crept up next to his window, which happened to be open a crack, sat beneath it, and listened. “I promised myself never to let a guy go all the way with me who wasn’t dedicated to me,” said Jennifer. He said nothing. “Look at me,” Jennifer resumed. He was having trouble focusing. “I’m lying next to you on your bed with nothing on.”
Kristen’s jaw dropped.
“It’s obvious you want me. Just commit to me, and this is all yours.” He remained mum. Jennifer continued, “Well, let’s see if I can change your mind then.”
Kristen heard his breathing change and knew what was coming. Isn’t it amazing how it’s men who have them, yet women are the experts with them? (Hey, that might be the stupidest query of all time except maybe for, “In retrospect, do you think we erred in bringing that wooden horse inside the gates?”) His gasps culminated, then faded to the inaudible. Kristen was so upset she felt sick. But Jennifer had misplayed her hand, finding his desire had suddenly plunged right after it had peaked. “Now are you ready to make a commitment to me?” Jennifer asked.
“No,” he replied decisively.
“Why not? I’m willing to give up all other guys for you. I love you, Bobby.” He said nothing. She redoubled her efforts. After a few minutes of kissing and caressing, Jennifer declared, “I want you. I’m going to give you my virginity to show you how much I love you. Be gentle, okay?”
He’d never done this before either, so he knew nothing other than approximately where to put it, but he nodded eagerly. She lay on her back and welcomed him with open arms—and legs. He clambered on top of her and entered so excitedly that she gasped in pain. He spent the next twenty-seven seconds in paradise.
Crestfallen, Kristen ran home. Jennifer sneaked in an hour later.
The Taylor and Owens genes had a natural, overpowering affinity for one another and were desperate to intermingle; their bodies were merely following their cue. But whereas Owens’s body was willing to grant both Taylor girls unfettered access to his genes, each Taylor body was less magnanimous, insisting on exclusive access to the Owens genes; selfish things. Their competition over him would taint their relationship for the rest of their lives.
Kristen wouldn’t talk to Jennifer the next morning at the kitchen table. “What’s the matter?” her cousin asked. She wouldn’t answer. “You’re upset that I took Bobby from you last night?” No answer. “I hate to tell you this, cuz, but I’m in love with him and I think he feels the same.” That prompted a response.
“No way, cuz. He’s incapable of loving anyone, and I’m sure he doesn’t trust you after that disaster on the school bus.”
“Stop living in the past, Krissy. You’re just jealous he chose me over you. You heard him. He thinks I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. To him, you’re just a cute kid. He said that to me.”
“To him, you’re just a slut.” Her jealousy simmering, Kristen was one calorie short of a full boil.
Jennifer supplied the heat. “Well, all I know is I felt truly loved last night. Four times!” In reality, it was only the once, for she was tender after her first time—and, anyway, he’d passed out—but she had to reciprocate for the calumny.
“Get out of my house!” Kristen screamed.
“What’s going on here?” said Lisa as she entered the kitchen. “You two are fighting? What’s the problem?”
“Krissy’s upset that Bobby picked me over her. She’s kicking me out of your house.”
“Krissy. I’m surprised at you,” Lisa reprimanded. “You know Jenny is always welcome here. I know he’s an attractive boy, and we owe him a lot, but try not to let him come between you two. You’ve been best friends since birth.”
“He doesn’t need the two of us to come between. Just her!” Kristen said. Jennifer turned beet red. Lisa gawped at Jennifer, suspecting what Kristen’s remark imported, and Jennifer’s hue seemed to confirm.
“Young lady!” Lisa yelled after her daughter, but she ran out of the house and up the street. Lisa turned to her niece. Under the inevitable inquisition, Jennifer held firm in denying she’d been that naughty.
So distressed was Kristen, she decided to go and give Robert a piece of her mind as well. She rapped on his door. The second he answered, she launched into a rant. “It was ignorant of you to just brush me off when my cousin came to the party last night then shoo me away as if I were a gnat. You’re reprehensible and heartless.”
“I did that? Sorry, Taylor. My only excuse is I was really drunk. I spent half the night snuggling the toilet. I think your gargoyle friend spiked my drink.” He rubbed his forehead. Oh, what a headache had he.
“That’s a feeble excuse. You may not have noticed, jerk, but I’ve grown up. I hate being referred to as a cute kid. You treat me like dirt, and I resent you for that.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“You’re a fool trusting Jenny after what she did to you on the bus.”
“I don’t trust her. You either.”
“What? You don’t trust me? Why not?”
“I’ve heard about your reputation for shooting down guys right, left, and center as soon as they show any interest. You think no guy is good enough for you.”
“Jenny told you that, no doubt.”
“Do you deny it?”
“I never lead anyone on, and I don’t turn down guys for the joy of feeling superior to them, as my cousin does. When I hurt anyone’s feelings, I feel terrible. Anyway, I wouldn’t turn you down.”
“Okay. Do you want to go out with me?” he asked.
“Not unless it’s exclusive.”
“So you just turned me down.”
“I did not! I said—”
“I heard what you said. You’ll go out with me if I commit to you. No way, Taylor.”
“Oh!” she screeched, and she stomped out of his house and all the way home.
1This paragraph first appeared on the website of the literary journal, Slow Trains:
http://www.slowtrains.com/vol9issue3/powersvol9issue3.html
Chapter Seven
Pranks and Games
Kristen believed that the quintessence of a man’s character is most clearly unveiled in his wit. Wit demonstrates his mental prowess and quickness, his ingenuity, his way with words, his brashness, his irreverent attitudes—and, of course, his sense of humor. She always looked for ways to get Robert to display his wit, which she adored.
Any good woman takes it upon herself to expand her man’s interests beyond sports and sex, if only so he’ll spend more time with her and less time on her. To spend more time with Robert, Kristen decided to invite him to her various volunteer activities. He declined each invitation.
“Come on, Bobby. You know you need forty hours of community volunteering to graduate. Have you done any?”
“No.”
“Then how about coming along on Sunday afternoons to the children’s ward at the hospital?” He didn’t answer, but she persisted, “I take my dog there to cheer up the children. Will you come?”
“What for?”
“Do you listen to anything I say? You need forty hours of volunteer work to graduate. This would be something worthwhile.”
“What would I have to do?”
“Just be yourself. Make them laugh.”
“All right. What time?”
“We’ll pick you up at twenty to two. We stay there from two to four.”
He assented and commenced joining her for the weekly visit. Normally, things went well, with Kristen offering emotional support, and Robert and the dog lightening the mood. Sometimes it was depressing, which made Robert want to stop going until Kristen made the case how important it is to lift the gloom
from the lives of those suffering children and their loved ones.
One particular Sunday was most distressing. A lovable little six-year-old boy had died of cancer the night before, and the other children on the ward were crying and worrying. Robert sat with the dog next to the wall in the room that served to entertain the children and their families. He was so disheartened, he couldn’t do a thing. Kristen, though, went to the children and hugged them, cried with them, and reassured them. After twenty minutes, she called Robert over to help cheer them up. Inspired by her, he did his best, although the dog was better medicine than he that day.
On the way home, he said, “You were terrific with them today, Kristen. I don’t know how you do it. It’s so sad. Why the hell can’t they cure cancer yet? How many top scientists have been working on it for decades? How many hundreds of billions have they spent on it? Yet still little kids die from it. I’m not sure I want to go anymore.”
“I’m every bit as upset as you are. Today was hard, but our help is most important when something like that happens. Someone has to help those poor children. Please don’t give up. I need you to be there, too, or I don’t want to keep doing it either.”
How could he say no to such an appeal, to such an angel? “Oh, all right,” he said.
Kristen dragged Robert and her dog, Billingsgate, along to an old age home in nearby Komoka one Saturday afternoon as well. She thought maybe the dog would cheer up the senior citizens. He found that place so oppressive and malodorous, he refused to return. “So this is what the fossils who didn’t have the sense to die younger come to, eh? What’s the point of it all? What’s the goddamn point?” he whispered to Kristen.
“Oh, stop being so morbid,” she reproved as she brushed an old lady’s hair. He noticed the smile on the woman’s face and couldn’t help thinking that Kristen was a much better person than he, much better than anyone he ever met. “Our visits bring a little happiness back into their lives. You don’t want to come here because you put yourself in their position. Think then how much you would like something out of the ordinary like talking to young people and petting a dog.”
