by R. D. Power
He tried anyway, which elicited the first word to come from either’s mouth since they got to his room: “No,” she murmured. He tried again, educing a more forceful “No!” He went down to make his case more directly. She panted and writhed in bliss, but pulled his face back up to hers to demonstrate her resolve. With her eyes, she decreed, No, not without at least saying you love me. No, sir, you may not have me without saying you love … Where is that tongue going now? Oh, what this man can do with his mouth and his hands! On second thought, there’s no question my soul mate has to take my virginity. I’ll give him that much, but if he wants to continue he has to tell me he loves me.
She pulled him back up so he was lying on top of her staring into her eyes. Her eyes granted him permission. Virtue’s sentries deserted their posts, leaving the maidenhead defenseless, and the invader thrust in unopposed. She gasped and winced and pulled her hips back from his. Then she put her left hand on his back and her right hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close against her. Stroking his hair, she kissed him lovingly and whispered, “Gently.” She experienced the tender sensations for a moment or two—okay, twenty moments—then evicted him.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked. There was a spot of her blood on him.
“It hurts a little, yes, but that’s not why I stopped you.” He looked at her for the explanation. She continued, “For one thing, you’re not even wearing a rubber.”
“I have one in the drawer. I’ll get it, okay?”
But she said, “No.”
He persisted, “Krissy, please! I’ll be gentle.”
“You were gentle. That’s not the problem.”
He knew the problem, but he wanted a way around it. “Krissy, this is torture,” he avowed, trying the sympathy gambit.
“Torture?” she said. “Lying in bed naked with me and taking my virginity is torture for you?”
Strike one: sympathy failed. “No, of course not,” said the flustered man.
“Because if it is, I can just leave.”
“No, please stay. It’s just that coming so close to coming with the most wonderful woman in creation is agony.” He hoped the compliment would soften her stance.
“Well, I’m sorry to torment you, but as you know, as I’ve told you before, this is a lot more consequential to a woman than to a man.” Strike two: flattery flopped. “You know, I might be pregnant right now from what we did already. What would we do then?” This was a crucial question in her view, an acid test of devotion. On his response depended his fortune tonight.
“Just take a morning after pill.”
Oh, Robert, strike three: you’re out. Don’t ever become a politician. You’re much too blunt, too insensitive, too sensible, and far too fond of the truth.
Kristen was incensed and hurt. Throwing her cards on the table, she asserted frostily, “For my part, I don’t believe in premarital sex.” How will he beat that flush?
Throwing down his four aces, he said, “For my part, I don’t believe in marriage.” Producing another ace from his sleeve, he added, “Your part didn’t stop Dominic’s part.”
She got up and began to put her clothes on. “As you know for certain now, I did not let Dominic go all the way with me, and I resent you bringing that up again. At least he was patient with me. You want everything right away and when you can’t have it, you get spiteful.”
“Right away? It’s been six months, for Christ’s sake!” he rejoined. He too got up and dressed. She was hoping for a heartfelt apology, but didn’t get one. She walked out slowly, hoping he would stop her, hoping he would confess his love for her, hoping for a proposal. None of it came.
She left, dejected. Doubts haunted her. Why didn’t I just let him have his way? Why did I have to push so much? Now where are we? Will he still go to California with me?
He, too, was glum. It was a long, restless night for both of them.
To Kristen’s surprise, Robert came by the next day to make amends. “I’m sorry about last night, Taylor. Can we still see each other?”
She knew he was cool toward her; he called her Taylor whenever he was. “I hope so, Owens, but what kind of future would we have?”
“I’ll be more of a gentleman. I’ll be more patient. Please give me another chance.”
“Fine. What do you propose?”
“Propose?” he repeated.
“Yes, propose,” she reiterated.
“You’re not expecting a proposal of marriage from me, are you, Taylor? Because, you know, we’re still in high school.”
“No, Owens, that is the last question I would ever expect to hear from you.”
“Actually, that distinction belongs to: ‘Will you please castrate me?’” She rolled her eyes and turned away. After a moment of awkward silence, Robert put his forehead to hers and said, “I’m sorry, Krissy. How do we go forward from here?”
“Why don’t you go home and think about it, and call me when you have some ideas?” He left and Kristen reflected on what he might come back with.
Judy, who came over to see Jeremy for the first time in three weeks—she’d been chilly to Jeremy of late—and had been eavesdropping on their parley, came out on the step to join her. “How are things going between you and Owens? Break up yet?” the troublemaker said.
“No, of course not,” she said. “He’s anxious for, well, for the same thing any man is anxious for, but I think he’ll be patient.”
“Do you honestly believe he’s been faithful to you?”
“Why? Have you heard anything?”
“Well, there are rumors.” Invidious rumors. The kind Judy specialized in creating.
“What rumors? Tell me, Judy. What have you heard?”
“I heard Kim Arnold, you know, the widow who lives on Pioneer Drive, is pregnant with his child.”
“What? Who told you that?” Kristen said. “It can’t be.” She recalled that Robert spent part of Christmas day with Kim.
“She’s visibly pregnant, and he’d been seen with her a lot last summer and fall.”
“He’s been at her house before, I know, but that doesn’t mean he got her pregnant. I don’t believe it.”
“As I said, it’s only a rumor. I would confront him about it if I were you, though,” Judy suggested.
“I will, you can be sure of that.” After Judy left, Kristen marched over to Robert’s to confront him about Kim. He answered the door and saw her with her hands on her hips and a serious visage.
“What’s the matter? What did I do now?”
“Nothing, I hope. I just heard a rumor that Kim Arnold is pregnant.” His eyes got big. “With your child.” His eyes covered his entire face. “I assume it’s not true?”
“Ah, no, I don’t, um, think it is,” said the nervous boy.
“You don’t think so? Could it be true? Did you sleep with her?”
“Um, well …”
Kristen got flustered and stormed away.
He ran to catch up and explained, “Please, Krissy, that was a long time ago. I haven’t been with her since we began dating. At Christmas nothing happened, I swear, and I haven’t seen her since as you asked. You’ve already been angry at me for the same incident, you know, the nursing-me-better one?”
“I suppose you think that’s supposed to make it all go away? I can get upset just once over one of your many indiscretions? What is she, maybe thirty?”
“Twenty-seven,” he corrected.
“What were you doing with an older woman like that? Never mind answering that. I know damn well what you were doing. Didn’t you at least have protection?”
“I … I thought she—”
“Oh, my God! It could be true then? She might be carrying your child. You might have to marry …” The enormity of the situation was just starting to hit her, and she began to panic. “I swear, if that is your child, we’re through.”
“Please don’t hang me yet. We don’t even know if she’s pregnant, let alone with my child.”
“Go right now and find out. And don’t try to lie to me. You can’t do it with me, anyway. The only reason I trust you even a little is because I know you always tell me the truth.” Kristen rushed home and went to her room. Why, oh, why, do I love that man? she kept asking herself.
An uneasy Robert Owens followed her command and went to see the widow.
“Bob. I haven’t seen you in months. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Kim remarked upon opening her door.
“Can I come in?” he said in a subdued way.
“Sure. You seem upset, what’s—”
“You’re pregnant?” he blurted out.
Looking agitated, she conceded, “Yes. You didn’t think I’d get this big this fast otherwise, did you?”
Swallowing hard, he asked, “Is it mine?” She didn’t have to say anything; her face told the distressing truth. “Oh, Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me? Everything is ruined,” said the disconsolate man.
“Please don’t be angry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you. Look at me. This isn’t your fault. You don’t have to worry about supporting me or him.”
“You know it’s a boy?”
“Yes. Bob, I couldn’t be happier. I was so lonely. My husband is gone forever, and I still love him. I don’t want another husband, but I need a child or I’ll die of loneliness. I’m sorry for not asking you, but I was afraid you’d say no.”
“You actually planned this?” he asked, getting more disturbed.
“No, but I didn’t ask you to use a rubber that night you came here when you were hurt. I was hoping you’d get me pregnant. Please don’t be angry.” She stepped up close to him and put her hand on his cheek. “You’ve given me the most precious gift in the universe. You’re such a remarkable person. I knew you would father a perfect child … You’re upset, I see.” She stepped back. “Please forgive me,” she pleaded looking down.
“My girlfriend, Kristen Taylor, somehow found out about this. She told me if you’re pregnant with my child, that would be it between us.”
“How would anyone know it was you?” After a few seconds, she continued, “Can’t you just say it’s not your child?”
“No, I can’t lie to her. Even if I tried, she’d see right through me. We’re done.”
“You really love her, don’t you?” He said nothing, but she could tell. “Okay, listen to me. So you don’t have to lie, I’ll tell you something: Mr. Owens, this is not your child, and how dare you presume to ask me whether it is!”
“Great, thanks,” he said, still downcast. “I’ll try that, but I’m afraid it won’t work.”
“Why not? You can look her right in the eye and tell her exactly what I said without lying. Or send her to see me, and I’ll tell her it’s not yours.”
“Okay.” As he was leaving, he said, “Can I come to see the baby when he’s born?”
“Of course. Any time you want.” She kissed him on the cheek.
This was a lot to take in for the eighteen-year-old boy. He was going to be a father. It was disconcerting that he couldn’t treasure the concept. And if Kristen found out … He walked around the block four times practicing what he would say and how he would say it.
In the meantime, Kristen sat in her chair, looking out the window, fretting about the news her boyfriend would bring her. Finally the doorbell rang. Kristen answered, led him to her room and closed the door. “Well?” she said anxiously.
“Um, she is pregnant.”
Kristen went pale. “It’s yours isn’t it?”
“I asked her that,” the tense man responded. He looked directly in her eyes and said, “She said it was not my child, and how dare I presume to ask.”
Kristen looked askance at him. “Are you telling me the truth? It’s strange, I can’t tell.”
“Yes, I swear I’m telling the truth. Go ask her yourself, if you please.”
“I may just do that.” Though unconvinced, she changed the subject. “For now, I’ll let it go. I have an idea for where we can go from here. How about a nice lunch at the restaurant in the village on Saturday?”
“Sounds good. What time?”
“I’ll meet you there at noon.”
“See you there.” He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head; she was still suspicious and resentful and wanted to convey her displeasure. He left and called Kim to warn her to expect a possible visit from Kristen. Then he ruminated about being a father. He wondered what his son would be like. I hope he’s healthy and happy and smart and handsome. Just as long as he’s not gay or socialist. Or Arab.
Robert dropped by that evening and asked Kristen to accompany him down to the river. Feeling that Kristen had been distant with him that afternoon, he wanted to recreate the magic they’d felt the night of their long kiss in the river in early autumn. This evening, though, was windy and cool; thick clouds shrouded the setting sun and the crescent moon. It took some convincing, but she finally got her coat and walked with him.
Down to the river they went as the gloom gathered. They stood together in awkward silence, looking at the turbid water. Kristen, having considered further his denial about fathering Kim’s child and finding it wanting, was cooler than the weather. She was about to demand they go home when a thundering crack broke the silence. A majestic—though long dead—ash tree decided at the behest of a wicked gust that now was as good a time as any to crash to the ground. The couple instinctively crouched clutching each other as the tree pressed toward the earth. The closest branches landed not three feet to either side of them.
After a few seconds she let go and became angry with him for forcing her to walk in the woods on such a forbidding evening. The path home obliterated, they had no choice but to forge a new trail through a thicket of hawthorn and buckthorn trees. Upset about his escapade with another woman, she insisted he go east around the hindrance, while she went west. He knew she was angry and knew why, but sought to talk her out of going her own way. Thinking Dominic never caused her this much pain, she remained adamant and they separated. After they were apart for a short time, she got frightened and second-guessed her impulse. She called to him, but he was by then beyond earshot.
He was caught up in a thorny situation in the thicket. As he carefully meandered through small openings defended by menacing spikes, he came across a wasps’ nest that had been dislodged from its mooring. The angry denizens were quick to drub the invader whom they held responsible. He ran headlong into a nasty hawthorn and through a patch of stinging nettle, and emerged bloody, swollen, and enraged. Finally, he groped his way through to the path home.
Kristen, who was getting panicky waiting for him, ran to him. Unscathed herself, she saw that he was cut and swollen all over. She winced and sincerely apologized, but it was his turn to be angry and aloof. He walked away without looking back, thinking Jennifer never caused him this much pain. She followed, afraid to say anything to him. Finally, at her house, she stood in front of him with a sweet, loving look that begged forgiveness.
Mindful of his guilt in the matter that caused her resentment, he let go of his anger. Mindful of his growing ardor for her, he took her outstretched hand, pulled her close, and kissed her, and the escapade ended on a propitious yet uncertain note.
Chapter Sixteen
Crashing Down
The weather that spring had been lovely. By early June, it seemed as if summer was already two months old. But summer seemed to end with summer solstice still three weeks away. A series of lows swept across southwestern Ontario, bringing almost uninterrupted blustery, wet, cold weather for the next four months. Spring was summer, and summer was fall. Spring abounded with promise, but summer dashed it all.
Kristen was getting ready for her date late Saturday morning when Dominic dropped by unexpectedly. He’d been calling her regularly to try to lure her back to him. Just the evening before, he’d begged her to see him for lunch the next day for something of vital importance, but she’d said she had a lunch date with Robert. He showed u
p anyway, and she tried to turn him away, but he pleaded for a few minutes of her time, so they went down by the river in a drizzle. There he produced a two and a half carat diamond engagement ring and adjured, “Marry me, Kristen. I’ll give you the kind of life a woman like you deserves. You’ll have everything you could ever want.”
Shocked, she said, “Oh, Dominic, thank you for your kind offer. I’m flattered, I really am, but I can’t accept it. I’m very sorry.”
“You’re turning me down for that bum?” he asked.
“I’m sorry to hurt you, but I’m in love with him.”
He showed his pain and disappointment. Not wanting to leave him so upset, she stayed to talk with him a while. She phoned the restaurant to ask them to get the message to a Robert Owens that she was delayed, but that everything was okay, and she’d be there soon. The person who answered said okay, but got doing something else, and forgot all about it.
At the restaurant, Robert had been busy ogling an exquisite young woman who was sitting across from him, crossing her legs to show off an impressive share of her comestible thighs. His initial impression of a girl hadn’t been so favorable since he first laid eyes on Jennifer: she was spectacular! She appeared to be attracted to him as well. Their glances progressed to short gazes then to staring and smiling. He was a touch reticent, mindful of Kristen. The woman, on the other hand, was brazen.
Approaching his table, she said, “Is anyone sitting here?” with a slight blush that only enhanced her splendor.
“No,” he replied, pulling out a chair for the lady.
She sat and said, “I’m not usually this forward, but I must confess I find you irresistible. What’s your name?”
“Bob. And may I ask the name of the ravishing lady who is, uh, you?” he said, nerves interfering with his ability to communicate. Christ, I didn’t just say that did I? he asked himself.
