Big on Education

by Laurie Ames

  “Sit down,” Sophia commanded. “I’ve got something for all that tension.”

  When Alex didn’t move, Sophia pulled up a chair and guided her friend toward it. Alex lowered herself into the chair with a sigh, then felt two groups of resolute fingers kneading the flesh of her shoulders into submission.

  “Oh Sophia, that feels so wonderful.”

  Sophia enjoyed giving therapy, any reason to touch and be closer to Alex. She fantasied stroking her hair and working her fingers down along her neck and back, then reaching around to cup her breasts. She dreamed about touching her more, kissing her mouth, her stomach, her nipples. But for now, she had to banish those thoughts to the far recess of her mind. Right now, kneading her shoulders would have to do. She continued to massage, almost losing herself in the sensuality of it all.

  Alex closed her eyes to savor this much-needed therapy. She suddenly wished she could have had this way before, instead of constantly having to deal with everything herself. She thought of the comfort that Sophia had provided her over the few days she had been in town, the relief of being able to share the burden with someone else.

  “So you’ll be here for a while?” Alex probed.

  “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that,” Sophia teased.

  “I’m hoping I’m not ruining whatever time you have here. This will all be over soon, I promise. And then I won’t bother you again.”

  Sophia ended the massage and sat down opposite Alex.

  “Alex, how do you know that you can trust me?”

  Alex looked back at her friend, perplexed.

  “Of course, I can trust you. You’re new here. You have nothing to do with anyone around here. I know I can trust you simply because you’re a stranger. If you were my long-lost sister, I wouldn’t have trusted you at all. Anyway, it’s the people we think we know that always stab us in the back.”

  Alex ended this statement abruptly, as if she had said too much already.

  “So … What if I’m your long-lost cousin?” Sophia quipped.

  The clenching in Alex’s jaw did all the talking.

  “Relax. I’m just kidding!” Sophia laughed.

  “Sophia, really. This is not the time.”

  “This is precisely the time. If you don’t find time to laugh about this, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

  “What do I need to laugh about it for? I have you for that. I get to listen to you laugh while I do the worrying. That’s the way it should be. This is my problem. If it can entertain you in any way, then I’m happy.”

  “Alex …”

  “I’ve gotten you involved in something awful. I’m so sorry …”

  “Okay. Seriously, stop.”

  Sophia was on her feet again, clutching Alex’s head and shoulders in an almost passionate but sympathetic embrace.

  “Don’t you think you’re overestimating this man? He’s just a human being.”

  “He’s more than that around here.”

  “Well, ‘here’ is just a small town in a little-known city. ‘Here’ isn’t such a big deal, is it? It’s a tiny corner of the world that doesn’t mean much in the scheme of things. And ‘he’ is definitely not God.”

  Alex looked up at Sophia, suddenly aware of what an outsider she was. Again, she wondered what had brought this young, knowledgeable woman to such an inconsequential place.

  “Everything will work out. You’ll see,” Sophia was saying.

  ***

  They had spent a lot of time together during the next two weeks. They talked extensively about Alex’s predicament. They had played Uno and eaten ice-cream to ward off the summer heat. Sophia taught Alex how to swim and Alex showed Sophia the best porn sites on the Internet. It was the giggles, the laughter, the smiles that set the sails of their friendship. They saw humor in everything and that was their bond. But Sophia never spoke about her past. And Alex thought it best not to ask.

  For Sophia, Alex was the perfect friend, or rather, the perfect friend she wanted to be. Maybe Sophia only saw what she wanted to see, imagining something that wasn’t there. She wondered if her friend would ever show the protective element of love.

  Chapter 5

  At eighteen, Alexia had married John Stanfield in the local chapel on a sunny June morning. John, son of the local business tycoon, was twenty-eight years old at the time and sorely in need of a good wife. His youth had been riddled with failed business ventures and indiscretions with the ladies on Laine Street. He was fast approaching thirty, that age when one first takes account of his life. Of course, it wasn’t John who was doing the evaluating. It was John’s father, a practical man who knew his heir’s every move. The chain-smoking patriarch held an impressive record when it came to organizing his children’s lives. He had managed to marry off his two daughters to illustrious men, the responsible sons of his business partners. The two sheep-like women had not protested, but dutifully went along with their father’s wishes. They were only too happy to play their part as stalwart members of the Stanfield family. It was the most important member of their generation who had, rather inconveniently, decided to blaze his own trail. He didn’t seem to have gotten the memo that Bryony was still steeped in the traditions of the Victorian era. His father had no intention of giving all his hard-earned wealth away or being “‘happy” with whatever his children chose to do with their lives. John Stanfield Sr. did not care that his children were individual human beings, separate from himself. He had them for his own reasons. Their destiny was to fulfill their father-given purposes in life. Hope and Marie had done well in this arena, but John Jr. frequently tested his father’s patience. He would need to be straightened out or “let go,” especially now that the presence of a strong successor was of paramount importance.

  John Stanfield Sr. had learned of his stage four lung cancer six months before his son’s twenty-eighth birthday. In all honesty, the news had come as a shock to no one. His addiction to smoking would have taken its toll sooner or later. John Sr. had long ago made a pact with his vice. He would surrender and allow it to give him great pleasure until such a time as it decided to cash in, claiming his health.

  Meanwhile, he worked hard to build a considerable fortune and reared the “best possible specimens of womanhood,” as he liked to call his daughters. It only meant he appreciated their cooperation in his meticulous molding of their futures. John Jr. was another matter, to be passed down as the responsibility of a capable wife. Perhaps an intelligent wife could keep the Stanfield fortune going for a generation longer.

  After embarking on a town-wide search for this kind of woman, John Sr. found Alexia. He would have loved to fish among his well-groomed business partners, but they didn’t reside in this neighborhood. In any case, he never trusted the information he got from them--let alone the women. However, he had kept a close eye on the residents of his town for decades. He knew what they were all about.

  He found Alexia in her father’s bookshop one winter. She had just been allowed to start apprenticing at the store. John Sr. was instantly captivated by her femininity and wit. There was no doubt in his mind that she would make someone a useful wife and eventually, a doting mother. Why not his son and grandchildren? He was oblivious to the torrid affairs she was conducting concurrently with her best friend and teenage boyfriend. Alexia was immediately invited to the Stanfield residence for an impromptu party the following week.

  That night, Alexia’s parents fought over whether she should go to this party. “Why had she been invited, anyway?” Alexia’s father asked. He was concerned about his daughter mixing with the notorious John Jr.

  “Well, she would have to marry someone eventually,” Alexia’s mother retorted. “Why not the son of a respected man?” Everyone knew that by “respected,” she actually meant “wealthy.” When they finally asked her what she thought, Alexia said she wanted to see the Stanfield mansion.

  John Jr. had been advised of Alexia and was duly instructed to be on his best behavior. He officially decided t
o cooperate when he finally set eyes on her. He may have been terrible at running a business, but he was not altogether daft. He knew his father was dying and looking to get him settled. He had been told that it was either marriage or he would be struck from the will. This was no surprise. These kinds of demands fit well with his father’s M.O. So John Jr. agreed to this arrangement, on the condition that said woman was “touchable.” And she was.

  John Jr. and Alexia were married months later. The new groom patiently awaited his father’s death. He only had to wait a year. Meanwhile, Alexia blossomed into an efficient wife, purchasing pregnancy tests every few weeks.

  “Then what happened?” Sophia asked eagerly.

  Alex took a sip of coffee, balancing the mug between her cupped hands. She seemed to be having difficulty with the next part of her story. The day had progressed quickly. Alex glanced furtively around the room as if she had just woken up and was reacquainting herself with her surroundings.

  “We found out there would be no kids. Not my fault. His,” was all Alexia said before she rose and picked up the laundry basket.

  The marriage went downhill after three years of failed fertility treatments. An embarrassed John Jr. returned to a lifestyle of philandering. Heated arguments between the two of them were frequent. Finally, Alexia turned to her mother-in-law, who became her confidant. The older lady had been concerned about her daughter-in-law ever since the engagement, knowing her son was not exactly a good catch. She took pains to visit with Alexia regularly. At first, Alexia maintained a formal relationship with Mrs. John Sr. She wanted to maintain the image that everything was going well.

  With time, Mrs. John Sr. broke through the façade and began to appreciate Alexia more than she did her own son. They would have long conversations about the failing marriage, among other things. Four years after their wedding ceremony, Alexia and John Jr. signed their divorce papers.

  The following year, John Jr.’s mother suffered a major heart attack. She left behind a controversial situation which Alexia would spend the next two years wrestling with.

  “You mean no one knew how John Sr. had left things?” Sophia asked.

  “Well, of course we all knew. When the will was read, we found out he had left everything to his wife. He thought she would know how to distribute everything in her own will. He hadn’t wanted to leave his life’s work to John Jr. right away.”

  “And then she goes and leaves everything to you.”

  “The thing is, I knew she was going to do that,” Alex confided.

  “You did?”

  “About a month before her death, she told me she would leave everything to me and made me promise to take care of her son--financially, at least. She thought he’d waste it all away. So, she trusted me with the family fortune, hoping I’d do right by him.”

  Alex shifted in her seat, then draped her legs across a nearby chair. She spent a full minute in deep thought. Annoyed, Sophia opened her mouth to protest at such an abrupt ending, but the draped legs made sure her words remained lodged in her throat. Alex turned to face Sophia and caught her admiring the legs.

  “I knew it!” Alex exclaimed.

  Sophia blushed. “Knew what?”

  “You’re into women, aren’t you?”

  “So what? You’re into anything on two legs.”

  Alex winced at this sharp remark, and Sophia instantly regretted saying it.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that this conversation usually ends badly.”

  “Clearly you’ve been having the conversation with the wrong people.”

  Sophia smiled, grateful for Alex’s forgiveness but unwilling to explore the issue further.

  “It must have been a surprise when you found out she had left no will,” Sophia offered.

  “It wasn’t much of a surprise, knowing John Jr. It became a matter of finding the will. I’ve been searching ever since.”

  “What if you just let it go? There’s not much you can do if you never find it.”

  Alex shook her head, “I promised her. And she told me where to look for it. Well, hinted, anyway. Took me a while to figure it out. She hid the will in that basement. How could I not look for it, knowing what I know?”

  “Listen to yourself, Saint Alexia. Admit that you like the idea of not worrying about losing the bookstore,” said Sophia, smiling mischievously.

  Alex smiled back. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Chapter 6

  The next month was spent sneaking into the basement, which belonged to a club frequented by the Hopes and John Jrs. of society. The youth of the upper crust had built it as a place where they could get together and chat lazily, swim leisurely and, for the academic types, study foreign languages. It was the kind of place that made people wonder at the nature of today’s high society. These kids didn’t throw parties at the club. They liked to go there to pretend to be normal, hardly bothering to keep the building maintained. Alex always thought it was a strange place to hide something as important as a will. But this was also the last place anyone would think to look.

  Whenever they thought no one would be watching, they went over to the club and Sophia was lowered into the basement. She spent about thirty minutes in the room each time, searching in old books stored on the bookshelves lining the walls. Then she would hear approaching footsteps heading for the cellar next door and would scurry behind a shelf, hissing at Alex to pull her up and through the window.

  One night, Sophia pried a book off a shelf and shook it. An envelope fell out of the book. Heart racing, Sophia flicked the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper, stained with blue ink. As the dim glow of the lighter illuminated the page, Sophia began to read its contents.

  The scrawny young man had been following the two women for a while now. Almost every time they arrived at the building behind the playground, he was already concealed behind some shrubbery. Today, they emerged from the basement particularly excited about something. As they hurried past his hiding place, he saw an envelope fall from the folds of Sophia’s clothes. As soon as they were out of sight, he ran to grab the envelope and went off to his tent.

  His cave-like residence was situated in the undesirable periphery of the town. Folks never came here unless they were actually looking for someone. He erected his residence at the mouth of a cave, setting up a tent to provide some shelter from the chilly night. As soon as he had consumed a lovely dinner consisting of sardines in white bread and a can of soda, he settled down to read the contents of the envelope.

  In stark detail, Mrs. John Sr. outlined the components of Stanfield’s estate, giving each away with strict instructions. She had taken great pains to list every item, only to assign each one to the same beneficiary. It all belonged to Alexia Abrams.

  The scrawny young man knew which of the two women was Alexia, having listened in on a good portion of their conversations. He neatly folded the letter back to its former shape and pushed it into the envelope. He then wrapped the precious document in plastic and tucked it safely into his backpack. He stepped outside his tent to admire the stars. The last place he had been was a bustling city where the stars hid behind a blanket of smog and towering buildings. He remembered having missed the stars then.

  So he took his time gazing up at the sky, drawing imaginary patterns as he connected one star to the next. The first shape he drew was the curve of Alex’s breast. He had seen her in the nude once, quite accidentally. Apparently, she liked to complete some of her morning rituals naked while travelling from room to room with the drapes open. Lucky for him, she had been brushing her teeth while checking her mail in the living room when he walked past her house one day. The scrawny young man would forever be grateful for this gift, since he had last seen a naked woman weeks ago in the bustling city. Now he knew how he could repay her. After taking in one last eyeful of breast-shaped stars, he turned back to his tent and settled down for the night.

  Chapter 7

  “I can’t believe you! WTF You actually lost it!” Her
lethal stare was painfully piercing. “How do you lose something like that?” Alex screamed. “How could you be so reckless?”

  Sophia was beside herself with worry. She had checked all her pockets about ninety-seven times, only to realize she must have lost the document on their way to Alex’s house. They had quickly gone out to retrace their steps several times, but to no avail. The will had simply vanished.

  “Someone must have picked it up. I’m so sorry, Alex.”

  Alex responded with a bitter shaking of the head.

  Meanwhile, Sophia wracked her brain. “Maybe we could--”