Casual Choices

by Tom Corbett

  Throughout this slow evolution each morning, his restless mind would flit from thought to thought, image to image, topic to topic. Work, women, the day’s expectations, a long and tempestuous life—such things crowded his head, seeking attention. But nothing seemed to stay there very long. Maybe he had been cursed with an attention deficit disorder, he sometimes mused. Then he would dismiss that thought, deciding that he was blessed with a fertile mind and a fecund imagination.

  Morris squatted to do his business. After picking up the delicacies, his attention focused on the panoramic view and then his interior space—the long view and the most intimate apprehension. With each shift in focus, the world would have changed right on the edge of awareness, becoming more comprehensible. As the landscape gradually defined itself, it became familiar and comfortable, having been part of his world for decades now. How could that be? He thought Canada would be a temporary refuge, a place to hide from events and from himself until the world had righted itself or he had thought things through. But that rebalancing never happened or it had eluded his razor-sharp capacity for refined internal assessments. Here he was, about to retire from the faculty of the University of British Columbia. What happened to the decades? How long had he been here, over three decades in this city, over four in Canada? Just where had this life gone, his vision of a life worth living?

  “Mo,” cooed Rachel, “want to run away with me? I would treat you much better than this bozo. Josh, he is just so cute. Ugly as sin but cute as the dickens, just a little like you were as a kid. Maybe that’s the connection, why you ended up with this dog, and no other. You see him as a twin brother. But what’s with the name…Mo? Really, Mo?”

  Josh looked at his sister. She had never lost her natural beauty, sandy blond hair falling to her shoulder. Unlike his more rugged and masculine look, she had a slim face with a classic composition that drew people to her. Most felt her looks were rather elegant though Josh had always thought her features a bit on the angular side. At times, her facial composition reminded him of the cubist visage he had seen in some museum. Yet all imperfections, if any really existed, were swept away by her eyes. He could never figure out their true color, pulsating between hazel and blue, depending on light and mood. But they were always inviting, taking you in with an implied transparency and sometimes an impish humor. Above all, they betrayed a quick wit and deep intelligence.

  “Surely you remember Mo, well, Morris,” he said. “He was around the house a lot.”

  “Oh yeah, the skinny Jewish kid. You two were very close…dad didn’t like him as I recall. Where is he now?”

  Josh looked toward the Vancouver skyline, which, as was often the case, had now sprung into a tentative existence. “Well, that is a really long story, one I cannot answer.” Then he lapsed back into silence, looking afar at where the mountains were a mere hint in the receding darkness.

  Suddenly, Rachel turned on him. “Here we go. You’re going to shut me out again, I just know it. It’s what you always do?”

  “What are you talking about,” he protested absent conviction.

  “Oh yeah, like this is a big mystery. First, I lose you when I needed you most. You were gone, just gone. Okay, that I understand. I don’t, really, but let’s get past that for the moment. But then you never came back. You were not there when I graduated from college, or medical school, or got married, or when I had a child. You were nowhere to be found when my marriage collapsed or I won my professional accolades or anything else. Bad times, good times, it didn’t matter. You just shut me down, as if I had bubonic plague or something, as if the whole family was infected. Sure, Dad was furious, and Mom sort of disappeared, but I never stopped loving you.”

  “I know.” He tried once more.

  “You did? Could have fooled me. I kept writing. I can’t count how many times.”

  “Wait, that’s unfair. I wrote.”

  “Are you kidding? What…an occasional post card. ‘Dear Rachel, I am alive. Thanks for your interest and have a nice life.’ Hell, I get more endearing notes from my butcher at Christmas. Did you ever meet me halfway, any way at all? No! Then, later, when we did finally connect, was it close? No! You could not wait for my visit to be over, as if it was a goddamn torture session. So, what was up with that?” He was startled by her anger, the passion. She wasn’t his kid sister anymore, that little girl who looked upon him with adoration. For a moment, he struggled for a response, but she cut him off by starting-in again. “Well, buddy, I’m here for a whole week, maybe longer…no matter how long it takes. I am going to get you to open up if it kills me, or you, or both of us. Got that!” Even in the dim light, he could see the flush on her face, the hard edge to be found in her eyes.

  Josh looked into her eyes. She did have their dad’s Irish temper. Where did that come from? He always thought she was like their mother—not only in looks but in temperament as well. The origins of Ora Maki Connelly were shrouded in apocryphal suggestion and speculation. She had never talked openly about her family or background though they knew she had been born amid great conflict though the exact year had never been revealed. Her maiden name was Finnish, but there were suggestions that her family were from Lithuania, or perhaps northwest Russia, or there was even an unsubstantiated rumor about the Ukraine. Her family did live near St. Petersburg when the battle between Reds and Whites erupted in the years after the October Revolution drove them to Finland. Whatever the truth, Josh mused, his mother had been forged of stern stuff, quiet and disciplined and resourceful. She never seemed to lose her composure as her husband, a classic son of the Emerald Isle, attacked life with bold abandon and endless stories but absent much direction or purpose except the cause of Irish freedom and bringing their exiled Catholic brothers from the north of that tortured island back into the fold.

  “Yeah, Rach, I got it. You want me to a real brother?” Then he smiled. “Can you give me an example of the Christmas notes your butcher writes.”

  “Don’t even try to be cute, hear me? Don’t go there! And not wants…demands.” She fought back a tear. “I mean, if it is not too much to ask. You know, if it is not an inconvenience or anything.”

  “Oh well, you can always ask.” He slid into his wry smile that was his go-to default attitude. Immediately, he realized his error.

  With lightning quickness, she slammed him in the stomach. “Ouch!” he exhaled. “That really hurt.”

  “Good!” she fumed. It now was light enough for him to see her face flush with real anger.

  “Alright, I give, I give.” He managed to say through some real pain. “Just give me a moment.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “I’ll tell you why I have been…what’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “Try asshole,” Rachel spit out, her anger yet on the surface.

  “Okay, I admit to being just a bit…distant.”

  “A bit,” she scoffed, “Pluto is a bit distant. The other side of the Milky Way is a bit distant. You’re not even in our own galaxy, emotionally that is.”

  “True, but even you have to admit that,” he paused for effect as if deciding how to finish his thought, “you were kind of a real pain in the ass when we were growing up. Now, hear me out before you knee me in the family jewels. Remember those times in high school. I would bring a girl home when the folks were out and would work my way up to make my patented move.”

  “Wait,” she almost smiled as if thinking about a new tactic to reach him, “those were your best moves. No wonder you couldn’t get laid.”

  “Shush, my turn. You would waltz in and bust out with something like ‘Oh, Josh, the public health people called a while back. They want a list of all your sexual victims over the past six months.’ They were real panicky like it was a crisis or something. In any case, they need to warn them of something dreadful. Or there was the one about the child support people calling asking about when I was going to start paying for all my kids.” He stepped back in anticipation of another blow. “You know, I pretty much never got a sec
ond date.”

  Rachel seemed to soften a bit. “Hah, that wasn’t my fault. You should not have been such a hopeless putz.”

  Just as Josh Connelly relaxed a fraction, her arm shot out one more time. This time, he bent over with a cry of pain while Mo growled. “Damn it, I give. Where the hell did you learn to hit like that?”

  “Self-defense class.” Rachel eyed him suspiciously, searching for any sign of disingenuousness or irony. But she only saw pain in his face. “Any more crap and I’ll have you on your knees begging for mercy.”

  “Shit, I’m begging right now.” And after several breathless gasps, “Where do you want to start? Wait, I’ve a suggestion on that one, maybe we can start with why the coroner will think I was a POW when they do my autopsy. How will you explain all my internal injuries?”

  They walked in silence for a while. By now, his face was visible in the morning’s subdued light, the mountains defined against the hint of a blue sky. The downtown Vancouver area now was visible in all its detail, augmented by the faintest beat of a waking, pulsating city. Rachel found herself recalling her constant teasing of her older sibling. Yeah, she thought, it was immature, quite out of character for her. But she was desperate for his attention. He seemed so worldly to her—intelligent and passionate with the same wry, even cynical, view on the world he inherited from his dad. She would follow him around, looking for any sign of attention from him. Whatever she was looking for from him was never satisfied. She always wanted more.

  “Rach, to be honest I’ve no good explanation for being such an ass. The best I can do is admit to being totally embarrassed.”

  “What?” she prompted when his words seem to end.

  “I’ve no explanation for the past. I just felt so bad about things, it was easier to keep things inside, unsaid. So damn Irish I guess.”

  They walked in silence some more, she thought about where to go next. “Josh, I get it. Really, I do. We were still kids when we let things go south. So, let’s start over. How about I ask a few questions. Right, a Q. and A. That should work. Okay, so bear with me, with some questions I have. This won’t take more than four to six weeks.”

  “What?” Josh exhaled.

  “Just relax. Let me start with something easy, not from way back when but with something more recent but which has always confused me. What about your marriage to Usha? That’s a puzzler. Without warning, you sent a letter saying you were married—married! I mean, what the hell. You were always moaning about marriage being hell on earth. Then, no warning, this woman comes out of the blue. Nary a word about her and then just a letter. ‘Dear Rachel, I had to take the dog to the vet and, by the way, I got married last week.’ So I trek up here to meet her. What happens, I get treated as an inconvenience and never felt welcome, not really. Sure, the two of you were polite and all. In fact, she was very nice, but you seemed to put up this wall. It was more than that, and damn hard to explain. It was like there was no feeling, no intimacy, no…love. Then, after several years, it was over. No buildup, no apparent reason. It struck me that you tired of the current model. Okay, what’s the story with that? Shit, do you have any idea at all how badly I wanted us to be a family again? I just wanted to know what the hell was going on in your life.”

  Josh realized she had finished. “Yeah, I didn’t handle that very well.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she whispered.

  “Well, it’s rather hard to talk about.”

  “What happened to the toughest kid on the block that I knew way back when. Then, you never backed down.”

  “Well, that only involved physical pain.” He murmured in so slight a voice she almost missed it.

  “Not a problem, take your time! But remember this. I’ll outwait you. I swear, I’ll stay in your face until you open-up or pigs fly. So, if you don’t want me to quit my job and move in permanently, you damn well better give me more than a few jokes.”

  He looked at her for some moments, finding her expression resolute. “Alright, you win. I’ll try at least.” As usual, he found his insides knotted tightly. Could he get this out? Maybe there was some escape. The earth might open-up and swallow them whole. Maybe he would have a coronary that would spare him from thinking hard about these personal things that always hurt so. No, one look and he realized she would not relent nor would there be any miraculous rescue. At long last, he sighed. “Here’s the thing. It…it wasn’t exactly a marriage, a real marriage.” He felt her eyes boring into him. “How to say this, it was like an arrangement. Try to understand, Usha and I were good friends. We could talk and share and laugh, and somehow it never spilled over to anything sexual, not very often at least. It was just comfortable. Okay, it is not true that I wanted to nail every woman that crossed my path…just 80 percent of them.” He caught himself, covering his stomach in anticipation of a blow from his sibling. She glared but did not strike. “Right, no more jokes, I promise. Here’s the thing, at some point, we realized how close we had become. We went to dinner, movies, museums, concerts, and even traveled together. It was weird, I guess. Everyone thought we were a great couple. I even met some of her family, she had several siblings. Then it hit us. Even though we never shared a place, we had become a couple. No one asked me or her to an event or dinner party, they asked us over even though we were not committed in any legal sense, just good friends. Then one day she seemed off…too quiet. By this time, I was pretty much on to her moods, not bad for a guy, I must say. After prodding and pushing a bit, she came out with the worst kept secret in the world. She preferred women. I thought to myself, that explains why I love her. She is safe. Still, I asked her about the secrecy? Everyone was out, weren’t they? She went on about her family, Indian as you know. Not just that but they were very conservative. They would take her sexual preference quite badly as in freak out. Already, they were quite upset that she was obviously with this guy, me, and not married. Still, if we didn’t live together in sin, it was something that could be ignored. Probably not for long, though. She was way past the age when she should have been married, like by a decade or so. And how were they going to find a suitable mate now that she clearly was spoiled goods. Her parents were ratcheting up the pressure. The big thing for her was whether she could face coming out of the closet. That would have been beyond the pale in her mind. She would be shunned by the family, an outcast. When she started to cry, I realized just how much pain she was in all the time. She was stuck, emotionally. She couldn’t admit publicly who she was and was finding it harder and harder to play at being my girlfriend absent at least the appearance of marriage. I remember listening that day, and it just came out. Hell, I said to her, no problem. Let’s get married.”

  Rachel stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t quite prepared for the rush of information and needed a moment for processing. “Wait, you just casually proposed marriage, just to be a nice guy, without even sleeping together, without expecting any sex? Do I have that right?”

  “Not quite true. We had done it, quite a few times. Clearly something was missing there, for her at least, so we just settled back into our comfortable routine. I was happy to know she preferred women. I thought maybe I was losing my touch in the satisfying women department.” Rachel grimaced but let it pass. “Besides, I did get a lot out of it, the relationship, not the sex. Guess you’re right, though, it was a casual choice.”

  “Unbelievable!” She emitted. “My only sibling is a crazy man.”

  Morris suddenly turned around and started back down the beach toward Langara Avenue. He had long satisfied the purpose of the journey and knew food awaited his return home. Besides, they had passed the usual turning point, and Morris was, as they say, a creature of habit. Josh continued. “She turned me down, of course, making all the sensible arguments that she could not possibly ask me to sacrifice for her, she could never be a real woman for me, that I might have to accommodate her female lovers on occasion, and blah, blah, blah. But it all made sense to me in the moment, this was perfect in a way. We liked each ot
her’s company, and we could be the great cover for each other. I would make her family happy and not expect her to be a real wife. She would nominally be my partner in the eyes of the world. Each of us could pursue other relationships, mostly casual, without fuss or recriminations. I thought it perfect. What is the big problem with women, from the male perspective, that is? Well, they get attached. You need to be nice to reel them in, and then you can’t get rid of them, at least not easily. Then, when you try for an exit, there are the tears and all that emotional nonsense.” Whoops, he thought to himself, she won’t like that. But he was in too deep. “Well, you know what I mean. I would now have a built-in excuse for other women as to why I could never be serious. I could tell some gal I had lucked out with that while I liked her a lot, and that what we had was special, I was in this committed relationship. If only we had met earlier. Besides, some women preferred that, really, and for the same reason I did, though probably not all that many.”

  “Thanks for the lesson on female psychology, Dr. Ruth. By the way, you better start guarding those family jewels now, they are totally endangered at this moment.”

  Josh edged away from her but continued. “In my defense, I always, well mostly, told women going in that commitment was off the table. I was an honest bastard.” Realizing how stupid that sounded, he continued quickly. “Back to Usha, it took me a while, but I finally convinced her. I find I can be quite persuasive. We got married. It wasn’t lavish but enough to give her cover with her family. Of course, then the questions about children started. We never anticipated that one. Silly, when I think about that now. Of course, her family would expect children, her biological clock was ticking. Besides needing to deflect her parents about having kids, all was great. We really got along quite well. I figured out at one point that not being emotionally invested makes relationships easier. Hmm, I should write a paper on that. And she really could whip up a whole number of badass curries. I just love Indian food. The big cost was a couple of extra inches on my waist. We actually were happier than most really married couples we knew.”