Braided Gold

by Glen Roylance

  Claire studied Paul before answering. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and in his voice. “I believe in God, Paul. I believe in him the same way I believe that the sun will come up tomorrow morning. I believe in him the same way I believe that my heart beats and blood courses through my body. That confidence has much to do with my outlook. No one coerced me to believe. No one talked me into it with persuasive words. Somehow I just found that faith – or perhaps it found me. I think God must have given it to me. And once you believe some fundamental things the rest just falls into place; it’s like dominos falling down. I believe only those things that harmonize with what I know to be true. I believe that truth harmonizes with itself just like notes of music can be either discordant or harmonious.”

  Paul sat quietly as if he were rehearsing the substance of Claire’s answer. Then, nodding his head, he quietly said, “I envy your certainty.” Again they both sat in silence until Paul redirected the conversation. “Getting back to your story, did you continue to work as a nurse after the termination of your engagement?”

  Despite her resolve to say no more about herself, she pressed forward with an abbreviated answer. “I’d put it a little differently. I was working at becoming a nurse until I simply lost my desire for that kind of work. At my request they gave me a night shift at the hospital. As you might imagine, most of the nurses preferred working days, but for me it allowed me to fill up the lonesome nights. All of that lasted about six months, and then one day I decided to do something else with my life. I applied for admission to the MBA program at UCLA, and when I was accepted, I gave the hospital my notice.”

  “So you didn’t really enjoy your work as a nurse?”

  Reluctantly, Claire broached this uncomfortable topic, laying her head on the back of the sofa and closing her eyes as she spoke. “Those were difficult days, Paul. You’ve heard the expression about rubbing salt in an open wound. Well, that just about describes my experience as a nurse. I was trying so hard to be idealistic about caring for others, but their pain and heartache kept reminding me of my own circumstances. Then, as I watched some critically ill patients hover between life and death, my mind kept going back to my family.” Tears again trickled down Claire’s cheeks. “Some of our patients didn’t make it and those deaths became very personal to me.

  “One night as I struggled to keep a little girl alive I kept seeing my sister’s face as the child grimaced with pain. I was working in the intensive care unit at the time. As I worked alongside the physician who was on call that evening, it became apparent that the little girl wouldn’t survive. I’ll never forget the sickening feeling that came over me as I watched the signal on the heart rate monitor go flat.

  “But the real crisis came on another evening. They had asked me to help out in the emergency room once again, but I just didn’t want to do it … I couldn’t do it.” Claire turned away from Paul, trying to hide the tears that flooded her eyes. Struggling to regain her composure, she continued with emotion laden words. “That night there was a massive pile-up on the San Diego freeway just outside of Santa Monica … When word came, everyone knew that the emergency room duty staff was inadequate to cope with something of that magnitude and once again I was asked to lend a hand.

  “I had just gotten downstairs when the first ambulance arrived with victims. Suddenly we were inundated. I had been working together with an internist who had been visiting patients when the call for help in the ER came. The two of us ended up in makeshift circumstances, nothing more than a hallway, really. He had just finished attending to a young woman when we were asked to care for a middle-aged man.”

  Claire’s voice broke and she began to weep. Between sobs she struggled to speak, as if laboring under some compulsion. “He was the image of my father – the same build – the same facial features. Suddenly I was overcome with some irrational panic. Even though the man had lost a great deal of blood and was only semi-conscious, he kept calling out for his wife. Apparently she had been seated beside him at the time of the impact. I wanted so badly to help, but I was paralyzed. In the midst of the confusion I became aware that a doctor was speaking to me. There was no time for politeness. We were in the middle of an emergency. He said something about getting out of the way, then barked at the charge nurse to get him somebody that could help. I tried desperately to get a hold of myself, but my mind was fixed on that highway outside of Yosemite where the same thing had happened to my family. I don’t remember what happened after that. Somehow I managed to make a lame explanation at my station and got away from the confusion of it all. At home I was an emotional wreck. There was no sleep for me that night and for the better part of a week I lived in the daze of an unreal world.”

  There were more sobs and Paul reached for her in her distress. She immediately responded, leaning into his embrace as she continued to weep. There was no need for further questions or explanation. Paul understood perfectly why she had left the nursing profession and why the intervening years had been so difficult for her. Indeed, one did not need training as a psychologist to understand that kind of trauma.

  Claire’s sobs subsided and she remained in the comfort of Paul’s arms, her eyes closed, her mind probing the significance of this experience with Paul. She realized that this was the first time she had told the details of her story to anyone. She could never have anticipated that this level of confidence could have been possible with someone like Paul Kirkham.

  Sobered by Claire’s explanation and reflective in his thoughts, Paul spoke softly. “Life has wounded both of us.”

  Claire opened her eyes but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “I was a married student when I commenced my graduate work at the University of Michigan. Both Cathy and I were young and inexperienced when it came to dealing with personal crises, and suddenly we were in the middle of one. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor.” There was a long pause, then Paul added the only explanation he was willing to give about the unresolved trauma of his own life. “The surgery was unsuccessful.”

  Claire sat upright and looked intently at Paul. Forgetting her own heartache she spoke with compassion. It was that kind of compassion made possible by one’s personal experiences – the kind of concern known only by one who has suffered similar pain. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  At this defining moment in their relationship, Paul felt a degree of freedom and openness with this beautiful woman such as he had never experienced before. He yearned to pour out his grief – to speak of the inner torment he had known since Cathy’s death. Though he trusted Claire, he did not trust himself. He did not understand himself. His emotional pain was connected with pieces of a puzzle that baffled him, and to this point in his life he had not been able to put that puzzle together. Consequently he had fled from it. But now, as the past had resurfaced during these moments with Claire, there was, for a brief moment, a resurgence of deep pain, a combination of sorrow and guilt. Claire’s beauty, warmth, and goodness had a singular effect upon him, and he sensed, in some way he could not understand, that she possessed something that could heal him. He felt unfit to be loved by someone like this, and yet he yearned for it. As his mind moved in this unexpected direction, he found himself doubting that he could ever meet her high expectations. Moreover he doubted that he possessed the will to make such sweeping changes in his life, yet he felt the need to hold on to her and some ill-defined hope she evoked within him.

  He spoke with a tenderness he had not felt for years. “What a beautiful person you are, Claire. How completely I misjudged you that day in Leo’s office. Can you ever forgive me for the things I said?” Before Claire could respond he added, “Please don’t expect too much of me, I really don’t want to disappoint you. But more important than that, there is a question I must ask you.” He waited briefly before continuing as if to achieve some inner focus of his thoughts. “Could things ever work out between the two of us? Could you ever be comfortable with somebody like me – someone who is so different
from you? I’m not asking for any commitments; I would just like to know.”

  Once again Claire looked intently at Paul and he knew he was in uncharted territory, following impulses and saying things that were not typical of his precise management of interpersonal relationships. But still the words kept coming. “I wish I were capable of being more like you. It’s not that I reject the way you think or live. In fact, it’s all very appealing to me. There have been times over the years when I have considered embracing a life of faith – trying to become a believer instead of a cynic or a critic, but I just couldn’t make it work. There are too many doubts and unresolved questions within me. There are too many issues that I need to deal with and, Claire, I refuse to be a hypocrite. If I can’t feel the part, I’m just not willing to act it.

  “I don’t know how you’ve managed to hold on to your faith despite all the inequities in your life. I don’t understand it, but I admire you. I honestly wish I could be like that, but I don’t think I could manage it without hiding from life. I’d have to become a pretender wearing rose-colored glasses. I’d have to change something at the very core of my being, and I can’t do that, Claire. I …”

  Claire touched Paul’s hand tenderly. “I will not ask you to do that. It would be wonderful if you did or could, but I’ll not make that a condition for our being together. Still, you must understand that there is a part of me that I cannot give to you. There are some commitments I could not make to you. You speak of being governed by some reality at the core of your being. It’s that way with me, too, Paul, and I can’t ignore it or be disloyal to it.”

  The depth and implications of their conversation had taken both Paul and Claire by surprise, and yet the exchange had come in a natural way, fulfilling a mutual need. Claire, whose opening the door to her private life had brought such a somber tone to the evening, now took the initiative to steer things in a more light-hearted direction. “Enough sadness,” she said with a smile. “Let me show you why I rented this apartment.”

  She led him across the living room and through the glass doors to the balcony overlooking the University. The campus night-lights illuminated the white University buildings with a beauty that could challenge any talented artist. A gentle breeze caught the scent of the gardenias Claire had planted in flower boxes around the perimeter of the balcony. She leaned forward against the wrought iron railing and pointed towards the Administration Building. “I can actually see my office window from here.”

  Paul’s eyes swept from the Administration Building to the outreach of the campus and then back to the silhouette of Claire standing immediately in front of him. He stepped close to her, then extended his arms and wrapped them about her waist. She said nothing but leaned back against him. It was a moment of compelling feeling in which neither wished to think of the implications of what was happening. Paul placed his hands gently on Claire’s shoulders and turned her about. Her face was beautiful in the faint light and her eyes were closed. He embraced her, and she reciprocated. As their lips met, his embrace tightened in their lingering kiss and there was an awakening of ardent desire within both of them. For Paul and Claire, the past and the present met at this moment, giving birth to something new and beautiful, yet very uncertain.

  Initially Claire was frightened, but then reassured herself. Though illogical, the relationship seemed right to her. She would postpone judgment and rely upon her ability to make the right decision when the time came. If it were to be a difficult decision, she would face it. She had faced difficult decisions in the past. In the meantime she would cling to this new thread of hope.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was late when Paul drew the day to a close and crawled into bed, but sleep eluded him. His experience with Claire had awakened things within him that were now fully alive. Among new feelings and realizations was clarity regarding one important thing: He needed someone like Claire – He needed Claire! He wanted Claire, but the gulf between them seemed virtually insurmountable. Nevertheless, one thing was undeniable. He had fallen in love with Claire.

  Perhaps it was her reminiscences from earlier years in her life that had triggered a flood of personal memories that now resurfaced, eliminating the possibility of sleep as he tossed and turned. He envied Claire as he drew a comparison between her idyllic childhood to his own dysfunctional family associations. Whereas her family had nurtured and sustained her as her life had unfolded, his own youth had been tormented and painful, leaving him with a handicap that still inhibited him in so many ways. Thus it was that he felt compelled to relive days past and his thoughts turned to his parents, Stanley and Andrea Kirkham.

  Those who knew Stanley and Andrea Kirkham best might well have wondered what had brought the two of them together in marriage. On one occasion a mutual acquaintance had dismissed the oddity of their divergent personalities with the old cliché, “opposites attract.” Whether the aphorism was true or not, it accurately described the Kirkham marriage. She was dominant and he was recessive. Andrea was disciplined, compulsive, and driven with a desire for achievement and the associated material trappings, whereas Stanley’s was a laissez faire personality. He was analytically minded and somewhat reclusive socially – a peacemaker with an aversion to interpersonal conflict. Andrea, on the other hand, was aggressive and competitive. She had well-honed social skills, which she frequently enlisted in the manipulation of others. Andrea had no aversion to conflict; in fact, she seemed to thrive on it.

  The Kirkham’s were married in 1931, one year prior to Stanley’s graduation from San Diego State College where he was studying physics with the intention of teaching high school. Andrea, two years younger than Stanley, had helped keep him in school, meeting household expenses by working in a downtown department store. Ever enamored by high society, Andrea had eagerly responded to a “help wanted” notice by Marston’s, a department store that catered to the well-heeled. Graciously presenting herself to the manager, Andrea’s charm secured her the position. But she had more to offer than charm, and soon George W. Marston, himself, took notice of her business skills, promoting her to become manager of the perfume and jewelry department.

  The great depression had taken its bite out of the Southern California economy, but there were still plentiful resources in the upper echelon of San Diego society and many of these were customers at Marston’s. Both Andrea’s employment and income were secure, and thus the pattern was established for the Kirkham’s – prosperity would come through Andrea’s genius.

  Following Stanley’s graduation he was employed by the San Diego School District as a junior high school teacher of science and math. But Woodrow Wilson Junior High School proved to be an almost insuperable challenge for him. He was academically qualified, yet when it came to coping with the erratic behavior of adolescents he soon found himself swimming in deep water. After his first year of teaching it became apparent to both Stanley and Andrea that there was need for a major course correction. She urged him to return to school for a master’s degree in physics, confident that they could manage financially. And manage they did!

  Shortly after Stanley’s return to school, a door opened for Andrea. Her work at Marston’s had dramatically influenced department profits and her dynamic personality made it apparent that she was a rising star. She established a network of friends that included upper management, including a recently appointed executive vice president who took particular note of her abilities. For some time he had been contemplating the purchase of a jewelry store in the San Diego suburb of La Mesa to serve communities further inland from downtown San Diego. The missing factor in his entrepreneurial equation was the right person to manage the store. Andrea became that person, and with this opportunity came rapid financial advancement for the Kirkhams.

  When Stanley completed his master’s program he found employment with a civilian underwater research laboratory that contracted for services to the Navy. In time this lab would become more and more intertwined with the naval base at Point Loma in San Diego until its
official assimilation into U.S. Naval operations when it became known as the Naval Electronic Laboratory Center (N.E.L.). In later years the facility would be known as the Naval Ocean Systems Center. Having drawn impetus from World War II, it would do cutting edge research on underwater transmitting and receiving equipment. Stanley’s team worked in a forerunner role to all of this. He spent his days as a trusted but low-profile research physicist, and although the work was somewhat humdrum, it was exactly what Stanley wanted – predictable, emotionally bland, and safe! At one point he aspired to the obtaining of a Ph.D., but his desire never matured into a working plan. He was comfortable and reluctant to disrupt the status quo. With the advent of World War II, Stanley sought and easily obtained a military deferment in connection with the work he was doing for the Navy, and his professional life continued on an even keel.

  Paul had been born in 1933. He would be an “only child” according to Andrea’s pronouncement during the later months of her pregnancy. Though initially welcomed, the new arrival brought unanticipated challenges. Maternal nurturing did not come easy for Andrea. Moreover, her work responsibilities always seemed to be more important to her. When Paul was one month old, she made permanent childcare arrangements, and thus the pattern for Paul’s home life was fixed – a busy, detached mother and a father who meant well but lacked the disposition to fully assume the responsibility for the rearing of their son.