Chapter 5

Julie left the house, giving me a quick kiss on the lips and walking out to her car. She told me she would see me tomorrow and then a moment later she was roaring away. I closed the door after she'd gone and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water, glancing at the clock as I did so. A half an hour until Dad got home. Just enough time for a shower.

Though I didn't have to work that day a bathing session was necessary none-the-less. I was wearing only a pair of sweatpants on my body and I knew I had to reek of Julie's musk both from my skin and on my breath. There was no sense giving my dad anything to raise his eyebrows about.

As I put ice in a glass and filled it with water from the tap, preparing to slake my considerable thirst, my mind was still reeling with the new images of Nina it had produced at the moment of truth earlier. The memory of the powerful orgasm those images had generated was still fresh and in fact the images themselves were still flitting at the forefront of my thoughts, keeping my dick in a semi-erect state.

It was Nina I was thinking about! Nina! What a mind-blower. I felt very weird about this. Nina was my best friend, my companion, my confidant for nearly two years now. Why was I suddenly having sexual thoughts about her? Was it just my teenaged libido in overdrive or was it something else entirely? As I struggled to understand the meaning of these thoughts I found myself thinking of her in more than the sexual way. I thought of all the time we'd spent together, of all the things we'd done. I liked being around her. There really wasn't anything else I would rather do in fact. Not even sex, my greatest obsession, compared to simply being in the company of her, talking to her, listening to her.

My God, I thought, I wasn't talking about love was I? Though I looked like a teenager and though I'd learned to act like a teenager I was still, under all of that, a 33 year old man. Nina was seventeen. And while I'd reluctantly acknowledged the possibility that she might be in love with me, through no fault of my own of course, I'd never even considered, even for an instant, the possibility that I might be in love with her. Sure I loved her as a friend. Sure, even though she was sixteen years younger than I was (although in reality she was nearly a year older than I was) I'd always found her a mature and easy to talk to companion, much easier than my ex-wife had ever dreamed of being, easier in fact than even Tracy. But none of that meant love did it, not romantic love anyway.

I thought of how upset she'd been earlier that day because I'd chosen to accept a ride from Julie. I remembered being baffled by her anger. Why should she be upset because of that, I'd wondered? It had been in all innocence, or so I'd thought then, and we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend anyway, so what right had she to be mad at me? And then I imagined how I would feel if Nina had told me that she was going to be riding to ROP each day with someone like Rick Felone, one of the few other guys that had been in our ROP classroom. I was surprised at the sudden surge of anger and jealously that hit me at the very thought of this.

Jesus, what was happening to me? What was I going to do about it?

Before I had a chance to think too heavily on those questions the doorbell rang. Muttering a curse under my breath at being interrupted while I'd been thinking some deep thoughts, I set down my glass and headed into the living room.

Figuring it was a door to door salesman selling some worthless product or religious fanatics selling something even more worthless, I threw open the door prepared to send them away post-haste so I could go up to take my shower and continue my thoughts of Nina to their conclusion. However it was neither on the other side of door. It was Nina.

Her expression was very cool, very unreadable as she stood on the porch. Her eyes took in my attire and I realized that she couldn't possibly have come at a worse time. What was she doing here anyway? She'd told me that she wasn't coming over.

"Hi, Nina," I greeted her with false cheeriness, stepping back a bit to keep her from catching any sort of scent from me. I did this instinctively without even realizing why I was doing it. "Come on in. What are you doing here?"

She made no move to come through the door, she simply stood there. "I came over to apologize for acting so weird today at school," she said. "I thought I'd been out of line, getting upset just because you wanted a ride with Julie."

"That's okay," I told her. "I understand completely. Why don't you come in?"

"I was so upset by what I'd said," she continued, still making no move to come through the door, "that I decided to head over as soon as I got home from school."

My mouth dropped open and a burst of adrenaline flooded me as I realized what she was saying.

"When I got here," she told me, "I saw that you already had company. Julie's car was out front."

"Listen, Nina," I started and then immediately faded away. I had no idea what I should say to her. Should I lie and say nothing had happened? I rejected that thought even as it formed. I could hardly deny it. Nina, as I may have mentioned earlier, was not stupid. Julie's car had been out front and I'd answered the door wearing nothing but sweats and smelling like I'd just fucked someone.

"What you do is your business," she told me and I saw that a tear was now running from her left eye. "It's never been any of mine and I've never pretended that it was. You've been screwing everything with a vagina for the last two years and I've never tried to convince myself that you have any feelings for me. To you I'm just Nina."

"No, Nina," I protested. "That's not true at all."

"It is, she said. "But do you know what? I've always had feelings for you. Ever since you first started talking to me in the lunchroom I've had strong feelings for you. Over the past two years they've never been returned but I've always had them and I've always hoped that some day..." She sniffed a little, more tears coming down now. "Time and time again I've started to feel like maybe there was some hope. Even though I've heard all of the stories about you, about how you'll screw anyone. Even though girls are always coming up to me and asking about you, trying to get me to introduce them to you, I still had some hope. I kept deluding myself, telling myself that you really were a nice guy. That you really weren't doing all of these things that I was hearing."

"I am a nice guy," I protested. "It's just..."

"Time and time again I would see what you were doing and try to tell myself I wasn't really seeing it. I would try to tell myself that someday..." She took a deep breath. "Anyway, when you told me that Julie and you were just going to ride together I felt, well, jealous, threatened at first. I know we're not going together or anything but still, I feel these things, Bill. I can't help it. I've got these fucking feelings for you. But then I thought about it and decided I'd overreacted a little. I told myself that there was no way Bill would ever do anything with an engaged girl. I convinced myself that I'd let my feelings come out a little too much this time." She snorted in disgust. "I was afraid you'd be mad at me. So I came over here to tell you I was sorry about that.

"When I got here and saw Julie's car out front it suddenly came home to me. Everything I'd always heard about you was true. All of the times I'd convinced myself that people were just talking about you, all of the times I saw with my own eyes what you were doing and convinced myself it was something else, all of that just fell apart when I saw her car. You really are an asshole, Bill, and the worst kind. You're an asshole that can pretend not to be one."

"Nina," I said, "let me explain..."

"There's nothing to explain," she said. "I've got to get away from you. I've got to stay away from you, do you understand? You're not good for me and you give me too many bad feelings. I just came up here to let you know that you're going to have to find another way to get to school." Tears were now running freely down her cheeks and her voice was breaking as she held off sobs.

"Nina, let's talk about this," I said.

"No," she cried, turning away from me. "Goodbye, Bill." She started down the walk.

"Nina!" I yelled, starting after her.

"Leave me alone," she sobbed. "Just stay away from me here, now, and forever. Don't call me anymore, don't talk to me anymore. Please."

She continued down the walkway and turned left at the sidewalk, heading for home. Less than ten seconds later she was out of my sight. But she wasn't out of my mind.

Despite what she'd said to me I tried to call her several times that day. I needed to talk to her, to tell her that I wasn't really an asshole. I needed to try to get her to change her mind. Each time her mother answered the phone and told me that Nina was not there. Her mother's voice, which usually lit up when she was talking to me, was emotionless and flat, with no hint of the previous warmth that had been in it. Finally she told me her daughter did not wish to speak to me and said that I should refrain from calling anymore. I put down the phone feeling defeated.

The next morning Dad saw me bundling up and preparing to walk to school. He gave me a puzzled look. "Isn't Nina coming to pick you up today?" he asked.

"No," I told him. "She's kind of, well, mad at me. She's not going to give me a ride anymore."

"You guys broke up?" he asked, his voice soft with sympathy.

"She was never my girlfriend, Dad," I told him, irritated. "She's just mad at me and doesn't want to give me a ride anymore."

He stared levelly at me. "Bill," he said, "I hate to tell you this but Nina was your girlfriend, whether you realized it or not."

I shook my head. "No, Dad," I said. "We were just friends. We never... well, you know?"

"Is that what you think a girlfriend is?" he asked. "Someone to, 'you know' with? You and Nina might not have ever done that with each other but you were boyfriend and girlfriend all the same. You liked being around each other, you liked to talk together. You were friends. You loved each other. Isn't friendship the most important part of a relationship? Any relationship? Why do people disregard such things?"

Had it been so obvious that even my dad had seen it? How could I have not seen it all this time? And how could fate have been so cruel to allow me to realize it on the very day, at the very minute that its destruction was being engineered.

"I don't know, Dad," I said with complete honesty. "Maybe they're just assholes."

He gave me a meaningful look. "Maybe they are," he replied. "And maybe they need to take a good look at what is making them an asshole, don't you think? Maybe they can change that little something?"

I gave him a sharp look. What was he saying? What did he know? Was he talking about my social activities? Surely he didn't know about that did he? But then I'd assumed Nina hadn't known about that either, an assumption that, now that it had been proven wrong, seemed painfully naive. Was my assumption that Dad or even, I shuddered, Mom, didn't know as flawed as that about Nina?

Dad had hidden his face back behind the paper, offering me no more insights into what he was thinking. Troubled, I picked up my backpack and headed out the door. I wasn't surprised to find that it was raining as I headed, on foot, to school. It was that kind of day.

My attempts to talk to Nina at school were met with stony silence. By the time lunch came around I knew better than to even try anymore. As I ate my lunch in the lunchroom I looked over to where Nina sat and dread covered me like a blanket. She was sitting alone at a table, eating from her tray, a book open before her. Just like she'd been doing the first day I'd approached her. Just like it.

Julie picked me up once more for ROP. As we drove to the hospital together I was disquieted by the freeness of her affection towards me. She would put her hand on my leg as we talked, or brush my hair from my eyes for me. Once she even kissed her finger and put it to my lips gently. She told me how great of a time she'd had yesterday.

"Do you think maybe we could study together again after school?" she asked brightly.

"Uh... not today," I told her. "I have to work." In truth I could have easily arranged a little meeting before work but I simply wasn't up to it. I'd never felt less like having sex in my life.

She pouted a little. "Well maybe next week," she said. "I really need to bone up on certain things."

As we worked side by side I noticed again how much she went out of her way to bump into me or to rub her breasts against my shoulder. Since I was quieter than usual she decided to talk more than usual. I winced when she mentioned her fiancée.

"Sometimes I wonder if I really made the right decision when I said I'd marry him," she told me.

I looked over at her, perhaps a little sharper than I'd intended to. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she beamed, her eyes shining, "I'm still young, ain't I? Maybe he's not the right one. Maybe I just jumped because he was the first one to ask. There's lots of other guys out there that might be better, isn't there?"

I quite simply didn't know what to say to her.

When I came home from work that night my Mom was sitting on the couch watching television and working on some sort of project for work. I gave her a perfunctory greeting and started to head for my room.

"Bill?" she asked. "Are you doing okay?"

I stopped, turning towards her. "Sure, Mom," I answered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Dad told me about you and Nina breaking up," she said. "I just wanted to know how you were handling it."

I didn't even bother explaining to her that Nina and I hadn't had a relationship to break up from. By now it was starting to sound like a lie even to me. "I'm okay, Mom," I assured her. "It'll work out."

"I certainly hope so," she told me sympathetically. "I really like her a lot you know. I thought you two made a cute couple."

I smiled weakly.

"I'm not trying to tell you how to run your life or anything, Bill," she said, "but I think you had a good thing with her. If I were you, I'd do whatever I had to to get her back. Sincerely."

"Thanks, Mom," I muttered, unsure what I was thanking her for. Why in the hell hadn't anyone told me this stuff a month ago, or a year ago, or even twenty-four hours ago?

Of course I was deluding myself because they had. Tracy in the most direct way, although I'd refused to hear her, Mom and Dad in more indirect ways. How many times had they referred to Nina as my girlfriend, either to me or when talking about her to someone else? And how many times had I reproached them for this, angrily even on occasion? Too many to count.

"Well that's my motherly advice for the day," she said. "If you're feeling down maybe this will help." She picked up an envelope from the table and handed it to me. On the front I recognized my sister's handwriting.

"From Tracy?" I asked. Since leaving for California Tracy had not exactly been an open line of communication. Two phone calls, one of which had just been to tell us she'd arrived safely, and this one letter. Since she lived in the dorms it was almost impossible to get hold of her.

"Yes." Mom nodded. "And about time too. I swear, you send them to college and they forget you exist."

I opened the envelope and sat down on the couch, pulling the single handwritten sheet of paper out and unfolding it.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Bill, it started. It was mostly to let us know she was alive and well and doing fine. She chattered on about how much she was enjoying her classes and the California weather, how much she liked living in the dorms, about her job at the campus bookstore, which would help supplement her living expenses. And then towards the end she told us that she'd met a boy and had been dating him fairly frequently. His name was Darren Maxwell.

Darren Maxwell. I'd never heard that name before in my life, before or after recycling. But for some reason that name gave me a twinge of fear. I continued to read her decidedly unfeminine handwriting, becoming more nervous in a much more identifiable way. He was a junior at the school attending on a baseball scholarship. A baseball player. He was a sports figure, just like the guy who had been scheduled to cause her death. It should have felt stupid that I was worrying about her just because she was dating a baseball player but it didn't. It made me very uncomfortable. I found myself wondering what kind of car he drove and if he liked to drink at parties.

Troubled, I put the letter back into the envelope and put it back on the table.

"What's the matter, Bill?" Mom asked me. "You look kind of pale."

"Nothing, Mom," I said, standing up. "I think I'm gonna hit the rack."

I was halfway up the stairs when it hit me. I realized why Darren Maxwell's name bothered me so much. He had the same initials as David Mitchell. The same amount of syllables in his name. I wondered if they looked alike. I wondered if I was just being paranoid, if the initials and the sports history were just a meaningless coincidence. Every time I started to convince myself that paranoia was all it was I would think about Beirut and about Nina sitting alone in the cafeteria, reading a book before she went off, alone, to medical school.

"Jesus, this is creepy," I muttered.

I lay in bed but it was a long time before I got to sleep.

I tried to call Nina twice over the weekend. The first time her mother not so politely told me that Nina did not wish to speak to me. The second time her Dad told me he would call the cops if I called there again. On Monday at school I tried to talk to her in class.

"I told you to leave me alone," she said quietly but coldly, in a voice that did not promise the opening of negotiations.

I left her alone.

Julie picked me up once again, for what I planned to be the last time. Though I wanted a job at central supply as much as anyone, I could not ride to work with her anymore. I didn't know if I was ever going to be able to bring Nina around again but it certainly wouldn't help for her to see me driving off every afternoon with Julie. I planned to tell her on the way to the hospital that this would be the last ride. But before I could, she blindsided me.

She was bubbly and exuberant as I climbed into the car and she roared off with much more enthusiasm than she usually displayed.

"You're in a good mood today," I commented, trying to think of an opening, or closing line.

"Yep," she bubbled happily. "I sure am. You know why?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Look," she said, and waved her left hand before my face.

I blinked in confusion, not following her. "Your hand," I said dryly. "What about it?"

"Notice anything missing?" she smiled, waggling her fingers.

And suddenly I did. The diamond engagement ring that she'd been so proud of, that she'd annoyed the living shit out of every member of the class with, was no longer on her ring finger. "Your ring," I said hollowly, knowing what the significance of it's absence had to be.

"Yep," she said, dropping the hand into my lap, very near my crotch. "I'm free. Absolutely free. I gave it back to him on Saturday night and told him I didn't want to marry him or see him anymore."

I took a deep breath. "Why did you do that?" I asked slowly.

"Because I don't want to see him anymore," she told me. She gave my leg a squeeze. "I've found someone else."

She'd found someone else? Oh shit. "And who might that be?" I braced myself.

She gave me a look that conveyed the message she thought I was teasing her. "You, you hoser," she said with a playful smile. "What we experienced the other night was just... just incredible, wasn't it? I knew right then we had something special going. Didn't you just feel the electricity?"

"Oh God," I couldn't help but mutter. Could this week get any worse?

"Hey," she said, "are your parents gone? I was thinking maybe we could cut ROP today and go over to your place." Her hand trailed upward until it was firmly in my crotch. "Spend the afternoon together?"

Slowly, patiently, I picked up her hand from my lap and put it back in hers. "Julie," I started, and then was unable to think of anything to say.

"What?" she said, confused by my rejection of her hand and the serious tone of my voice.

I looked at the ceiling of the car for a moment, trying to think. Why the hell was she doing this to me? Didn't she understand The Rules? She was supposed to enjoy our session and leave it at that. She wasn't supposed to break up with her fucking fiancée because of it. She wasn't supposed to be feeling electricity or any of that romance novel crap. I had no experience with this sort of thing.

"Sweetie," she said, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Sweetie? Oh Christ. This was getting way out of hand.

"Look, Julie," I said patiently. "I'm not your sweetie. I'm just Bill. Bill from class. We had a little fun together the other day, something we probably shouldn't have done, but I never meant for it to go any further than that. I never meant for you to break up with your fiancée over it."

Her face turned deadly serious. "What are you saying?" she asked.

What was I saying? Hadn't I just said it? "What I'm saying," I told her carefully, "is that I am not looking for a relationship with you. We just had a day of fun together."

"You don't want to go out with me?" she whispered, her tone conveying danger just under the surface.

"No," I said. "What happened between us just kind of happened. I didn't intend for it to go any further than that. Can't we just be friends?"

"Friends?" she nearly spat. "It sounds to me like you think I'm some sort of slut."

"No, no!" I protested. "That's not..."

"You take me over to your place and fuck me and you just want to end it like that? That's how guys treat sluts!"

"But..."

"I'm not no fuckin slut!" she screamed at me. "Did you think I was one? Did you think you were just gonna fuck me and then we'd forget about it the next day? How could you think that? I'm a Catholic, Goddammit. I go to fucking church! Nobody treats me like a fuckin slut!"

"You're not a slut, Julie," I protested. "All I was trying to say..."

She suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing her car to a screeching, smoking halt in the middle of one of Spokane's major arteries. I heard the screech of other brakes behind us as several cars nearly rear-ended her.

"Julie, Jesus, what are..."

"Get the fuck out of my car, you asshole!" she screamed at me. "Get your fuckin ass out now! I don't ever want to see your fucked-up, lying face again!"

"Let's talk about..."

"GET OUT!" she screamed and I saw murder in her eyes.

I unsnapped my seatbelt, opened the door, and got out. Before I could close the door she peeled away, ripping it out of my hand, leaving me standing in the middle of the street in one of the worst neighborhoods in town. I looked around uncomfortably at the angry faces of the motorists whose progress I was impeding and I hurried to the curb.

"I think I could have handled that better," I muttered to myself.

I took a quick look around me, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. I was in front of a liquor store and three blacks were hanging out in front of it. They were in their early twenties or late teens and looked like gang members based on their garb. They were smoking cigarettes and drinking from forty-ounce cans of beer. They eyed me with amusement.

"Homey," one of them said to me sympathetically, "that was one pissed off bitch."

"Yep," another agreed. "I heard her rap all the way over here. I was you, homey, I'd stay away from that shit."

"Sure thing," the other one put in. "Bitch done dropped your ass off in the hood. You'd a been good as dead she'd a done that shit at night. Lucky for you it's day, you only half as good as dead 'round here now."

They all laughed at that, shaking their heads at my predicament. I felt no fear from them. I'd worked for years in 'the hood' and had gotten good at reading the intentions of the inhabitants of it. Their jostling of me was for their own amusement. They meant me no harm. However, there were others around that would mean me some harm if I encountered them. I was no longer in possession of the safety my uniform provided or the portable radio that I'd once carried here that could summon every cop within five square miles in less than two minutes. I was in a delicate situation.

"Yeah," I said to them. "I do seem to be out of my element here, don't I?"

This cracked them up again. "You ain't shittin," one of them said.

"The bus stop around here somewhere?" I asked.

"Right here, homey," one answered. "Should be comin round in about twenty minutes."

"Hope you can make it that long," the one that had made the crack about the hood commented.

I looked around again, not seeing anything that offered comfort to me. The street was lined with liquor stores, cheap motels, and the occasional sub-human apartment complex. There were alleys between each of the buildings that undoubtedly contained all manner of thug of all races and creeds. This was not a place to take a little stroll. I turned back to the three-man comedy team.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I propose a business deal."

"Say what?" the apparent leader of the trio asked me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, my weekly ration from my paycheck. I silently gave thanks that I'd increased it to ten after starting work in the hospital. "Take this ten," I said, "and take it into the liquor store there. Buy me one of those forties you're drinking, since I can use a drink about now, and give me back a buck for the bus. You guys keep the rest for yourself in exchange for keeping me from getting killed before the bus gets here."

They all stared at me for a moment, a trio of The Look. Finally the leader spoke. "And what's to stop us," he asked, "from just takin the dime and sendin your ass the fuck out of here?"

I shrugged. "Absolutely nothing."

It took them a moment but they finally started laughing. The leader, shaking his head and grinning, plucked the ten out of my fingers and headed into the store. He returned a minute later handing me a frosty, forty-ounce can of King Cobra and a dollar bill.

"You know somethin, homey?" he asked me as I cracked open the beer and took a huge swallow. "You all right. You the most fun we had around here in a fuckin week."

And so I made it safely out of the worst area that Spokane had to offer. I boarded the bus, buzzing pleasantly from the beer that I'd just slammed into my system, gave my business partners a wave goodbye, and found myself a seat. I thought it prudent to avoid going to the hospital that day, giving Julie 24 hours to cool down. Since I was not accustomed to riding the bus and since I did not have any more money to spare I simply sat in my seat until the bus I was on passed near my home. It took nearly two hours and by the time I got off my bladder felt as if it was going to burst. I ran the five blocks to my house, fumbled with the key, and dashed full speed to the bathroom.

It was a fitting end to the school day I supposed.

When I came home from work that night Mom was once again sitting on the couch and watching television.

"Hi, Bill," she greeted. "Feeling better today?"

"Much," I lied, putting on a cheery face.

"Have you talked to Nina?" she asked delicately.

"She won't talk to me," I answered. "But life goes on, doesn't it?"

"What did you guys fight about anyway?" she asked.

"It's kinda personal, Mom," I explained. "But don't worry. I'm coping."

She gave me a sideways smile. As I started up the stairs she suddenly called me back.

"I almost forgot," she told me. "Anita called and asked if you could put up her storm windows this week sometime when she gets home. Winter's coming soon you know."

"Sure," I answered. There had been a time, about a week ago, when the news that Anita had called, asking me to do something for her would have caused a stir in my nether regions. But now, nothing. Sex was still the furthest thing from my mind. "I'll do it tomorrow afternoon."

She beamed at me. "It so sweet of you, Bill," she commented. "Helping Anita out even with your busy schedule. You're turning out all right."

"I hope so," I said as I headed upstairs, realizing that for the first time in forever I was looking at a trip to Anita's as a chore.

I sensed no thawing of feelings from Nina the next day so I did not attempt to talk to her. At lunch she sat alone again at her table. Mike joined me at mine, pointing at her.

"Why's she sitting over there?" he asked, not bothering to finish chewing his food first.

"She's pissed off at me," I told him.

"How come?"