by Tom Corbett
He had picked a good time to be there. That late afternoon, they first walked through the town. A few of the antique shops were in their last days before boarding up for the off season that gave them an opportunity to bypass the amazing deals being pushed. They found a restaurant in which to enjoy some fresh cod. Later, he thought that maybe he should have sprung for the lobster, but he knew that Eleni did not care about such things. She did not have a materialistic or status instinct in her makeup.
As the sun sank lower, they walked away from the town and along the beach. It was sweatshirt weather now, and she pulled the one that had been draped on her shoulders over her head. They walked a long time holding hands, talking about things big and small, laughing at their constant banter and mirthful insults. Her hair would whip about her face in the gusts, sometimes covering her face.
“I should cut this stuff,” she complained. “It can be such a bother.”
“No,” he raised his voice. “Anything but the hair.”
“Why should you care?” she asked.
“Well, I like it long. It makes you, what, sensual.”
She laughed. “Sensual? No way. In any case, Betty Friedan would not be happy with you. You’re treating me as a sex object.”
“Which no one ever did to her. Maybe that’s why she is so angry.”
“Shush, you’re terrible.”
“Okay, as a favor to me, keep the hair long. I…I like it that way.”
She stopped and he did as well. “Okay, I will, just for you.” Then she inched up and kissed him before leaning into him.
Later that night, she undressed but left her panties on. She snuggled up to him in bed, and he felt a profound peace settle over his body. He sensed something wrong, small tremors from her and wetness where her head lay against his chest. He wondered if he should ask but kept silent.
“I must be such a disappointment to you,” she whispered.
He was relieved that she said something. He would not have to guess at her mood or the source of her despair. Figuring out women was something men simply could not do well. In truth, they were totally hopeless at this task. Now he could ask. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You should be here with someone who can give you what you need. I want to, but you know, the way I was raised. There is all this pressure about the wedding night, the jokes and the songs and the expectations. Yes, it’s silly, but I am who I am.” Then she sobbed aloud, just once, and jumped out of bed.
He gathered her in his arms at the window. For a few moments, they just looked out the window. The moon was nearly full, its reflection shivered off the bay waters and bathed Eleni’s face in a pale light. He could see a tear making a path down her cheek. Her eyes were moist and deeply sad. Her hair fell in disarray around her face. She brushed it back.
“Sorry, I’m acting like a child.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “Josh, you must know that I feel deeply for you. Sometimes I’m scared about what I feel. It is just this world of mine, all that I’ve grown up with. I-I…”
“Not another word. Eleni, I don’t care about the sex. All I know is that my heart beats faster when I’m with you. It always feels light and free. Can you imagine how much that means to me? The rest of my world feels so heavy, so serious. You’re my refuge.” He stroked her hair. “Eleni, I-I…care for you deeply.” Inside, he cursed his cowardice. If he said the word, there was no way back. He could walk up to the word, look directly at it, and then back down.
They returned to bed. He slowly and tenderly kissed her entire body, occasionally nibbling her ears to make her squirm and giggle. He spent forever exploring her body with his hands and mouth. It was all in slow motion, done with infinite tenderness. Why not, there was no urgent sexual destination to reach, just the journey to appreciate and savor. The wonder of the moment left him in awe. It was not lust; it was something way beyond that, something that frightened him to the core. Perhaps this is what the poets talked about all the time. He had never appreciated all the fuss before. He thought that romantic feelings were an affliction suffered by the weak of will and the slow of mind. He was beyond all that nonsense. He was better than that. He was a superior form of homo sapien because he was in control of his feelings. That, he thought, was not a shortcoming, not an incompleteness, but a strength.
Eventually, she sighed and nuzzled into his body. The next morning, Josh woke to find her still intertwined with him. He had never felt so alive. For a while, he watched the shallow morning light bring the room to life. The curtains billowed out in the morning breeze. He loved the crisp morning air. He loved Eleni. Why could he not say the words?
He knew that this moment would stay with him forever.
CHAPTER 8
DAY 4
As Josh considered his chronic difficulties in fully apprehending the most basic dimensions of the human experience, a familiar voice pierced his reverie.
“Professor Connelly, still slacking off, I see.”
Startled, he looked up to see Usha standing before him.
“Ah, the plot thickens,” he said. “All the ghosts from my past are returning for the wake.”
“Retiring is not the same as passing on, my dear friend. Besides, we all know what academic retirement is—the same amount of work absent the dreadful faculty meetings.” Then she grimaced a bit. “I e-mailed you that I was coming. Don’t you want me here?”
Josh jumped up and hugged her. She clung to him for a rather long time, giving him ample opportunity to recall the appeal of her body. “No, no, I am very happy you’re here. I’ve missed you. Really missed you. Just a little nervous, I suppose?”
“Nervous? I don’t bite.”
“True, you were never into kinky sex.”
Usha sighed. “I see you still think you’re witty.”
“First,” Josh countered, “there is absolutely no doubt about my wit. But here is my personal horror show, my dear. I have spent my adult life running away from people, and now a lot of them are showing up to haunt me at this event. Might as well be my wake. This really does not bode well. It strikes me like a slasher movie where I’m offed right after I volunteer to go outside and see what happened to Suzy.”
“Is Suzy another gal you disappointed? Never mind, so good to see you again, Josh, even if I am cast as a villain in a horror movie.”
“Okay, bad metaphor. It is great to see you as well. Hey, you look damn good for an old broad.”
She smiled. “It hasn’t been that long. Did you think I would decay in a few years? But I see a few more gray hairs up top on you and some lines on the face. But damn, it just makes you a little craggier, even more handsome. I hate that about men, getting sexier as they age. And I can see you still working so, so hard to be charming. Alas, still not working.”
“Yeah, my lack of friends is easily explained, isn’t it? But if I were nice to people, everyone would be confused. I believe in meeting expectations, no matter how low the bar is set.”
“Dear Josh,” she said in a serious voice, “it really is good to see you and I’ll not admit this in public, but I do miss that Irish wit.”
“And you, my dear. One question, why didn’t you bring, ah…what’s-her-name.”
“Very good. The woman I left you for and you cannot remember her name. Rose.”
“Right, I knew it was some flower, or vegetable, or fruit. But I should’ve gotten her name down. I wanted to send her a thank-you note, for stealing you away. But wait, you’re avoiding an answer, why didn’t she come with you? I could have thanked her in person.”
Usha forced a smile. “What’s-her-name and I are no longer together.”
“Oh sorry,” he said with meaning.
“These things happen,” she offered.
“Still, it hurts. Can I ask what happened?”
“A younger woman,” she said with a small, bitter laugh. “And here I thought only men, vile pigs that they are, did that.” Instinctively, Josh took her in his arms once again. He sensed she might
pull away, but she quickly melted more deeply into his embrace. Then she continued, “I suppose I was not very available, busy with work, preoccupied. I never noticed the signs. Too busy even for that.”
Several clever responses flowed through Josh’s mind, but he decided not to be cute at this moment. He just held her and once again was surprised how good her body still felt to him. Too bad she is on the other team, he said to himself.
“Well,” he said, “no argument from me on the ‘men being pigs’hypothesis. The evidence is overwhelming. But I’m super glad you’re here. We’ll have a good time. Rachel is here. This will be the longest we have been together since we were kids. She really is quite a woman. And we will be picking her daughter up at the airport this afternoon. Wow, a family reunion.”
Usha pulled away and looked up at him. “I remember meeting your sister, but we never talked that much. She was quite beautiful as I recall though very quiet. This will be nice.”
Josh laughed. “Don’t let her quiet ways fool you. She is a pistol when you get to know her.”
“Then I am looking forward to it.” Usha smiled.
That afternoon, Josh, Rachel, and Usha waited in the international terminal. Rachel was nervous, but she and Usha kept whispering to each other and laughing. This was not good, Josh thought. They undoubtedly were amusing themselves at his expense. Then he caught himself. Now that is paranoid, he concluded. Not everything is about me even though it should be, he thought. Then he noticed both glancing in his direction and giggling like schoolgirls. It really was about him. Still, he was happy they had connected so easily.
Then he heard a familiar voice. “We made it.” Cate ran up and hugged her mother. “Oh, Mom, so good to see you.” A moment later came “and my favorite uncle,” as she pivoted toward Josh.
“Well, to be accurate, I’m your only uncle.”
“Details, details, but I suppose you’re lucky not to have any competition.” Cate laughed excitedly. “Still, I brag all the time about my brilliant, funny, handsome uncle who is a great intellectual.”
“Cate,” said Rachel with a serious demeanor, “how many times did I warn you against taking those hallucinatory drugs.”
Cate threw her head back and laughed again. “Not to worry, Mom, the foreign service makes me pee in a cup.” Then she noticed the third member of the group.
“Oh, do you remember Usha?”
“Of course, how nice you could make this.” Cate walked up and surprised Usha by embracing her. Then Cate turned to a young, attractive woman standing uneasily about ten feet behind her.
Cate walked back and took the uncertain woman by the arm, urging her forward. They all focused on a striking woman in her mid-twenties. Josh took a deep breath. If he looked quickly, he would see Eleni standing there. He tried to shake the image out of his head, but it stayed there, discomforting him. “This is Meena Muhaisin, my…good friend.” While Cate’s hair was blond and short, Meena had black hair, somewhat longish, dark eyes, and caramel-colored skin. Her facial structure seemed straight out of a Vogue pictorial.
Meena flashed a large, if nervous, smile. “I am so glad to meet you all.” She had a recognizable clipped British accent. “Cate has told me so much about you.” She nodded toward Rachel and Josh.
“Well, in my defense, there is another side to my story,” Josh added.
“It could hardly be better than what Cate has told me about you,” she said, quickly emitting a nervous chuckle. Her eyes had a twinkle that immediately drew you in. Then she turned to Usha. “I am sorry…”
Usha picked up on her confusion. “Let me introduce myself. I was married to Josh for several years. We had been colleagues and have remained friends.” Meena indicated some confusion before Usha spoke up. “Long story, we can get into that later.”
“Okay then, now that we’re here, let the party begin,” Cate announced. As they walked out, Josh glanced quickly toward Cate and Meena. His niece grabbed Meena’s hand for a moment and mouthed the words “It will be fine, don’t worry” to her. The light went on in Josh’s head. Oh, so that is how it is. That explains a lot.
Then Cate spoke up. “It’s so wonderful to be here. With Meena being Jordanian and all the paranoia going around, I thought we would have problems, particularly in the US. The Canadians generally are more civilized. But it helps that I’m with the service, that seems to work. And speaking of the service, I’ve been angling for my home leave for a while. In the Mideast, getting leave can be a touch-and-go proposition, there is always some situation or another and we always seem to be on call. I know I should have given you more warning, Mom, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Hope you’re not mad. I wasn’t totally sure I could make it until recently.” It was obvious to Josh and Rachel that Cate was talking fast as if she was afraid that someone else would take control.
Rachel jumped in at her question. “No, sweetie, I’m not mad. Maybe a bit surprised, but that was the point, I guess.” Meena looked as if she might be expected to say something but had no idea what that might be so Rachel struggled to hold the floor. “You were on the East Coast? Did you see your dad?”
“Yes.” Then silence. “We can chat about that later. Meena has never been to Vancouver. Let’s point out some of the sights on the way.”
That they did until, in a lull, Josh asked out of genuine curiosity now. “Meena, tell us a little about yourself.”
She took a breath, as if recalling a prepared script. “Yes, I grew up in Jordan. My father was in business and government, quite successful. I was shipped off to school in England as a teen. They thought I was clever enough to warrant an investment, so I spent time in a rather exclusive public school. It was difficult at first, but I adjusted. After some time, I thought it all rather brilliant once I got to gather some friends about me.” Yes, Josh thought, more British than Jordanian. “Then I matriculated at Oxford. By the way, I loved England though the winters always were a bit depressing. After finishing my studies, I was ready to return to Amman, my family, and the real world.”
“What keeps you busy?” Josh inquired.
“My father wanted me to join him in business, but I sought a position in government. Simply making money has never held much attraction for me. I did some tourism stuff at first and then development projects, particularly with refugees. That’s where my heart is, and it involves a great deal of work with foreign governments. I love it. That is how I met Catherine” Josh did a double take. He had never heard anyone call Cate by her full name in a long time.
“Yes,” Cate chimed in. “We hit it off right away. Meena has made my stationing in Amman a joy. She won’t say anything, but she is related to the royal family.”
“Oh shush, it is a distant connection.”
Cate picked up the thread again. “Close enough to get me invited to the palace socially. Have you ever seen the queen? She has been interviewed on US television. She has to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and so articulate.”
Later that afternoon, they were getting ready for a celebratory dinner at Josh’s home. Josh was surprised when Connie showed up. When Rachel learned that Cate would be visiting, she had called Connie with whom she had chatted a couple of times since they first met. In the back of her mind, Rachel could not quite push aside a deep feminine impulse that Josh was lonely and Connie would fill that need. It was clear to Rachel that Connie and Josh made a better pair than Connie and the cold, remote physicist whose name already escaped her. When Rachel asked Connie for help in getting the dinner planned, she went further to suggest that her new boyfriend probably would be bored and was relieved when Connie readily agreed.
Rachel could not reveal her nefarious plans even to herself. She had a nagging sense that she was behaving like a manipulative female but pushed such thoughts aside. Everyone crowded the kitchen for a while as a general and superficial conversation continued. Then Josh asked Cate and Meena to accompany him to his office using the excuse of showing them some family pictures. Cate recognized m
any but was thrilled at the prospect of sharing with Meena old pictures of Rachel and Josh and herself when they all were young, as well as scenes that brought back fond memories. It was one of those sentimental tours that the audience must pretend to enjoy no matter what, but Meena certainly displayed the expected enthusiasm.
After some time, Josh suddenly put the pictures down and quietly asked, “When are you going to tell your mom?”
“What?” Cate stammered, stalling for time.
“That you two are a couple.”
Cate and Meena looked at each other. Meena then glanced at the floor with an expression that screamed she wanted suddenly to be somewhere else, anywhere else. “What gave us away?” Cate asked.
Josh smiled. “First, I’m not as dumb as I look. You have been visiting me periodically since you were a teen. I know you way better than I do your mom, my own sister. You never talked about boys, not once. Okay, that might be just a healthy sense of independence or just maybe you’re smart enough to realize that we’re all worthless. I thought about that on occasion but decided not to jump to conclusions. Then I get these texts and e-mails, all mysterious-like, about this visit. Bringing a friend on your leave, someone that had never been mentioned before? What nailed it for me was a gesture I caught as we left the airport. A brief look, the joining of hands, words mouthed silently, expressions of anxiety. The real giveaway, Cate babbling when she got off the plane.”
“But I always babble…Okay, Sherlock…” Cate looked for words. “I, we…”
Josh pulled Cate to him in a big hug. “I hope against hope that you did not doubt for one moment that I would love you a scintilla less. You’re the closest thing I will ever have to a child. I’m just ecstatic that you have found someone. But why in hell are you worried about your mother? You must know she will feel the same.”
