Taylor Made Owens

by R. D. Power

  “She is gone forever,” he maintained as his eyes glistened with tears, which Kristen noticed. He’d already lost Jennifer; now it seemed he’d lost Kristen, too. It was all he could do to stop from crying. “I want you.”

  “You only want me because she’s gone.”

  “No, you have that backwards. She’s gone because I rejected her, which I did because I couldn’t give you up. I’d rather be with you than any other person on earth. I know you’re angry at me. I don’t blame you.” He took her hands. “Can we at least be friends?”

  “I’m sorry, Bobby, no,” she said, taking back her hands.

  Upset, Robert went on, “Please don’t shut me out, I’m begging you. I’ll commit to only you.”

  Precisely what she’d been dying to hear for over a year, but he had sinned once too often with Jennifer. “No. I want you to leave.” His devastated expression failed to move her. Looking at him dispassionately, she commanded, “Go now.” He lowered his head and walked out.

  Robert stayed away for eight days, eight days of anguish for him, coming by her house to press his case anew on Friday evening. “She’s here, but she’s with Dominic,” Jeremy told him. “Do you want me to call her?”

  “No thanks,” said the gloomy young man. He went home convinced he’d lost her forever. Jeremy later informed his sister that Robert had come by and left dispirited when told she was with Dominic. She walked up to her room with a gratified smile.

  A week passed. Kristen was beginning to wonder if he’d given up when he at last returned. Lisa answered the door and called her daughter. Kristen came down and invited him to her room, but halfway up the stairs she turned and stopped. She held out her arm to stop him two steps down. Looking down on him with stern visage, she asked her supplicant, “What do you want?”

  “Um, I know you’re seeing Dominic. Since I assume you’ve picked him to develop that relationship you wanted that might lead to marriage, I wonder if I might at least be a friend. You know, maybe we could hang out together once in a while? I could guard your apple,” he said with a feeble smile.

  “Friends?” Kristen said. “Is that all I am to you? You just want to be friends?”

  “No, but you’ve chosen Dominic.”

  “So you’re saying if it weren’t for Dominic, we could start an exclusive relationship that could very well lead to marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  Kristen pulled him one step up so that her eyes were level with his. She smiled and said, “I believe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”

  “I broke up with Dominic last week. I want to pursue that relationship with you, Robert Owens.”

  “With me?” he said—surprised but delighted.

  She leaned forward to kiss him, then took his hand and led him to her room. Closing her door, she explained, “I dropped Dominic because I love you. You must be blind if you haven’t seen how much I love you.”

  “But why would you choose me over him?” Robert inquired. “Oh, wait, I know. He may be richer, but I’m uglier,” joked he. She furrowed her brow, but chuckled. “Really, why?” he resumed, “He’s rich, he’s loads of fun, he’s hunky and he can beat me up.”

  “That’s all true,” she was happy to concede, “but you are so much more. That day by the river, it was you who shined. You annihilated him with your wit. All he could do to get you back was hit you. You are the much better man.”

  “Did you or did you not have sex with him?”

  “Let’s just say he banged on the front door, but I kept it locked.”

  “He beat around the bush, eh?”

  “Robert Peter Owens!” she said, tittering through the syllables.

  “You were naked with him?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “What did he, um, do with you when—”

  “Just know that I didn’t make love to him, and let it drop. Okay?”

  He looked her over as if trying to ascertain where and how Dominic had touched her. His jealousy was conspicuous, and she enjoyed every second of it. With her cool demeanor, she test-drove her hard-won control over him. She laid down the law: “Remember, I’ll be watching. If you cheat on me, that’ll be it; I won’t stand for it. Do you understand?” He nodded meekly. “Now, if our relationship is going to last, we have to be together. You need to tell me where you might be next year.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Come on, Bobby. That’s not acceptable to me. I insist you run down the possibilities. That way I can apply to the universities closest to where you might be.”

  “Well, let’s see. I can choose to go into the major league draft this June, or I can go to university and play ball there, or, apparently, I can join the American Army.”

  “Pardon me?” stated the surprised girl.

  “Some Marine-looking guy came to my house yesterday and told me he was with the special forces of the American Army. They somehow knew all about me: my marks, my dead family, my baseball, my American citizenship. God knows what the government has on every one of us. It seems a smart, athletic orphan is ideal for them. Gee, I wonder why. He tried to sign me up.”

  “My God, I hope you said no.”

  “No, I leave for boot camp tomorrow,” he jested. “Of course I said no.”

  “You should go to university with your brain,” Kristen contended. “You have scholarship offers at USC, Stanford, and Berkeley?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, then that’s a start. I’ll apply to those three universities, and to Western just in case.”

  His preference was not to go to university because he was worried his arm might give out before he got the chance to play in the majors. He could see the pressure to accommodate her already beginning, which made him worry about his freedom. She saw his discomfort and changed the topic, but she fully intended to revisit this issue as often as it took to secure his promise to live together.

  Soon thereafter, it was Christmas season again. This year, Robert got two invitations to dinner. Kim, who had recently returned from staying with her mother and sister in BC, invited him first. When Kristen asked him and he told her, “Someone else invited me to Christmas dinner,” her face showed the look of a woman betrayed.

  “What? I assumed my boyfriend would be spending Christmas with me. Who is this mystery person?”

  “Just a widow I work for every now and then,” he said.

  “Just a widow? You’re spending Christmas with just a widow?”

  “I’m sorry. She invited me, and I said yes without thinking.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s Kim Arnold. She lives on Pioneer.” She’d seen Kim and knew how pretty she was. With Kristen brooding, he added, “Um, I’ll leave her house early and come here for dinner. Okay?”

  “Don’t bother. Just stay there.”

  “Come on, Krissy. I made a mistake. I’ll stay there for an hour or so, then I’ll come here. Okay?”

  She relented.

  On Christmas, he told Kim that he could only stay for a little while and was just about to say he’d be eating dinner elsewhere when Kim said, “Just stay for supper then. I’ve been at it for hours.” He could not disappoint her.

  As they ate, she fidgeted; she seemed uneasy. Not that Robert noticed as he shoveled the delicious food down his throat. After an interlude of awkward silence, she said, “So, you graduate in a few months? What are your plans after that?”

  “Baseball,” he replied with a full mouth.

  “And if that doesn’t work out?”

  He gulped and growled with a grave gawp, “Why would you ask that?”

  Seeing his antagonism, she smiled to disarm him.

  “You don’t think I’m good enough?”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean it like—”

  “I have to go. Thanks for dinner,” he said as he got to his feet.

  “No, wait. Please. I have something for you, something that will help you reach you
r goal.” She left the dining room and returned shortly with a nicely wrapped gift for him. “Open it,” she said.

  He did, and his eyes opened wide. “This is, like, the best glove you can get. It costs hundreds of dollars. Thank you very much, Kim, but I can’t accept this: it’s too much money.”

  “I have plenty of money, and it was on sale. Take it. Merry Christmas.”

  “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Thank you, that’s the nicest gift anyone has ever given me—or maybe anyone. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this.”

  “You’ve done so much.” He looked at her quizzically as she stuttered through her explanation, “You, you’ve um … given me … something, um …” She looked away to gather her courage, took a deep breath, turned back to him, and said, “You’ve given me something wonderful!”

  “What?”

  Just then her face changed. “Oh! Pardon me, I have to go to the bathroom,” she said as she got up and dashed out of the room with her hand pressed against her stomach.

  When she returned, Robert said, “Maybe it’s just me, because I like baseball so much and all, but I think the best glove a person can get is a better present than the runs.”

  “No, silly. I mean you gave me a reason to get up every morning when you were last here.”

  “You mean because I wouldn’t leave you alone in bed?”

  “No,” she said with an exasperated chuckle.

  “Because that was maybe the best four-day period of my life, you know,” Robert said. She smiled.

  As her queasy stomach began to rumble again, she found herself thinking wistfully of her four-day periods that had ceased almost three months ago. She never thought she’d long for them. He gave her his present to her, which was wrapped clumsily in the Sunday comics. She opened it and erupted in laughter. He’d bought a slinky one-piece bathing suit for seventy-five percent off. This won’t even cover my stomach by June, Kim thought.

  He left without learning about his child, cuddling his new baseball glove all the way to Kristen’s house.

  “Hi,” greeted Kristen. “What’s that?”

  “Only the best baseball mitt on the market. Kim gave it to me for Christmas.” He showed it to Kristen. “I’m so excited. I’m going to sleep with it tonight.”

  “Why would she do that for a boy who does odd jobs for her?” asked the curious and now worried girl. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Really. I don’t know why she got it for me. I asked, and she said it was on sale, and she was rich, and to just take it.” Kristen frowned and led him in.

  Kristen was cool with Robert, so dinner was uncomfortable for both of them. The family started talking of Jesus. Robert said nothing throughout, though he rolled his eyes a couple of times. Noticing, Lisa said, “Don’t you believe there’s anything greater than you in the universe?”

  “Mrs. Taylor,” he said, while turning his head toward Kristen, “I believe there’s something greater than I at this table.”

  Kristen’s antipathy vanished as she tittered and went to fetch a plate of fudge she’d confected for the occasion. It was her first attempt at baking fudge. She passed the plate around and awaited their verdict. Robert sniffed it and recoiled at the burnt sugar smell. He tasted it and put his hand to his mouth, then under the table where Billingsgate took it off his hands. The dog slunk away, off to clean his anus for a better taste in his mouth.

  “How do you like my fudge?” she asked. Her family smiled politely, but Robert, as was his wont, answered honestly.

  “It’s fudge? I thought you went through the woods and gathered up some deer droppings.”

  Kristen informed him it was the last time she’d ever make him fudge. He thanked her for that consideration and excused himself from the table.

  After kissing him good night, Kristen said, “Please don’t see that Arnold woman anymore, okay?”

  He nodded, but wasn’t happy with the request or with the idea. Kim called him a few times through the winter, but he made excuses not to see her. Their special bond would ensure a lasting relationship between the pair, however.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Growing Closer

  Women are always more inquisitive about their man’s background than men are about their woman’s, perhaps because men are much more apt than women to be axe murderers, and as the new saying goes, axe murderers make dicey bedfellows. Kristen was curious about Robert’s parents, especially since the little he’d told her of them was fascinating, but it was a delicate subject for obvious reasons. In his room one evening, she searched for a way to get him to talk about them. “What’re you thinking about?” she opened.

  Licking every inch of your body, then trying every position in the Kama Sutra with you for twenty-four straight hours, he thought. “Nothing,” he said.

  “Do you remember how we met?” she tried.

  “Yeah, it was a story for the ages. I was trying to wheedle my nuts back into my bag, and you were laughing and looking down your nose at me.”

  “True, it wasn’t romantic, but my parents’ first meeting was. It was Mom’s first week of university—Dad was in his third year—and they met at the pool. Mom walked out of the changing room in her bathing suit, and my dad spotted her. He tried to show off on the diving board, but ended up slipping and bouncing off his bum before flopping into the water. Mom laughed and went over to … You’re not listening to me.”

  “Sure I am. Your parents met at the university.”

  “What did I say after that?”

  “Uh, your dad … um, spotted your mom … on a corner, and they went to a cheap motel room to make you and Jeremy.”

  She hit him on the arm.

  “All right, if you find my family history so boring, tell me how your parents met.”

  He closed his eyes, laid his head on his shoulder and pretended to snore. She undertook another tack: appealing to his pride in his parents. “Can I see your mother’s medal?” He went to his trunk, rummaged around, pulled it out and put it around her neck. “It was for figure skating?” He nodded. “When was that?”

  “Seventy-two in Sapporo. I have the video of her performance. Want to see it?” Kristen jumped at that offer, and the two went to the TV room to observe young Jill Richards skate almost flawlessly to Debussy’s “Claire de Lune.”

  “She’s so pretty and graceful,” opined Kristen, as she watched the young athlete deftly interpret the superb music. They went back to his room. It was time to learn more about the paternal side.

  “Can I see a picture of your father?” He dug out the one he had of his father in his Air Force uniform. “He’s so handsome,” she declared. “I can see some of him in you, especially his eyes, but I think you look more like your mother. When was he in the Air Force?”

  “Through the seventies, I think.”

  “He played baseball after that?”

  “Yup.” He pulled out his father’s Giants jersey, number 13, and put it on. “I think the story was he wanted to go into minor league baseball after college, but got a low enough number in the draft lottery that he was convinced he’d end up as an infantry grunt who would return home from Vietnam without a leg or a pulse—something that might interfere with his plans to play baseball—so he joined the Air Force.”

  “Did he ever go to Vietnam?”

  “Not that I know of. I’m not sure about a lot of their background. Little kids never think about that stuff. They were Mom and Dad. What else did I need to know? Most of what I know now, I’ve pieced together from the things in this trunk. I don’t know exactly when he left the Air Force or started playing baseball, but I know he played for the Giants in 1981.”

  “So where in all this did he meet your mother?”

  “I only know that because it was the day Dad tore his shoulder apart. Mom liked to tell that story because it was the day they met. Nine pitches; that’s all he threw in the majors. Nine. He gave up a career in the Air Force and must have worked really hard to get to the Giants, a
nd he lasted two-thirds of an inning. I can imagine how devastated he must have been. He got there, but had no chance to savor it. He was still sensitive about it a decade later, I know. They took him to the hospital where my mom was taking her medical training.”

  “Where was that?”

  “I’m not sure, but I remember she used to wear an old sweater with UCSF on it.”

  “The University of California at San Francisco.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’ve been looking into medical schools, and that’s one of the best. Go on.”

  “Dad started flirting with her the moment he saw her, she told me, which didn’t impress her at the time, though she crowed about it plenty afterward. I guess men were always making passes at her, and she wanted to be treated as a professional. He was just the next disrespectful pervert.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  “So she informed him in a dispassionate way that his shoulder was shattered, and surgery was needed. He got very upset over the news and offended at her detached bedside manner, and he demanded to know the prognosis for recovery. She was put off by his hostility and callously told him that he would be lucky to have full use of his arm, and that it would never again stand much strain.

  “I guess he immediately broke down crying, which shocked her. She sincerely apologized and asked why he was so upset. He answered, ‘You just told me with a pitiless smirk that my life is over.’ Mom remembered his line word for word. It had the power to make her teary-eyed for the rest of her life. She begged Dad to explain. Only then did she learn he pitched for the Giants, and she realized what the prognosis meant to him. She was beside herself over the heartless way she’d conveyed the bad news to him. Anyway, in trying to make it up to him, she fell in love, and so did he, and they lived happily ever … for ten years.”

  “So what you’re saying is your father’s disaster was the best thing that ever happened to him and to her.”

  “What? No, I’m not saying that. His career was ruined. It had to be the worst day of his life. And she would probably have lived a lot longer if she hadn’t met him.”