an extended edition to make up for the delay
When it was done his seed was on the bed sheet. The patch they’d made love in was soaked. He undressed her slowly and sucked on her nipples, he sucked on her throat. They made love again. He felt so good. She knew that she felt good. She kept coming. She’d never come so many times. When it was over, in the darkness of the night he whispered into her ear. She could feel his beard against her.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel like this is the end of everything,” she told him. She hooked an arm around his waist. “This is what it’s all about.”
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Bobby yawned and stretched and turned around.
“What’s up now?” he said. That was the way he greeted her, like she had something mean to say, like she had a mean expression on her face.
Maybe she did, after all up until right now his ass had been turned up in her face, and what had awakened her was the large fart that had erupted from it. The smell still lingered.
Bobby looked completely undesirable. She could see every razor bump on his face. This was not her salvation.
Bobby wasn’t ironic. She had appreciated that about him. She had thought this made him “real”. If he was ironic she wouldn’t have said what she did the first time they’d slept together
I feel like this is the end of everything.
But what was it was all about?
She didn’t have a fucking clue.
When Jack Moreland came to Latin class with the little note and Dr. Franco came to him and told him that he was needed in the Dean’s office, Mason received this news with a bit of worry, but largely what he would later write in his journal “was that general sense of freedom that accompanies getting the fuck out of a class you hate.”
Why did he take third year Latin anyway? He asked himself as he headed down the hall to Dean Howard’s office. What if Dean Howard was calling just to shoot the shit. What if he was like, “Remember the other night when we were all at your house?” Mason couldn’t imagine that, and quite frankly, would have been a little sick if it had happened. He preferred Dean Howard at a distance, as a good looking, athletic all American figure of fun.
“Hey, there, Mason!” Rick Howard leaned across his desk and took his hand in a firm grip, but Mason’s eyes were already widening at the sight of his aunt.
“Your aunt says there is something urgent in the family and you’re needed at once, Mason. I’m so sorry. I hope everything’s better soon.”
But even as Dean Howard was saying these things, Savannah, who was out of his view was mouthing, “No it isn’t. Nothing’s wrong. Let’s do lunch.”
“You do know,” he told Savannah as she slipped on her shades and they headed up Bancroft Street, “that you could have just gone to the main office and had the secretaries get me? When you get called to the Dean’s office that always feels so... not good.”
“Um,” Savannah shrugged as they raced up the street, “I didn’t know. But, you know what? That Rick Howard is a good looking man. And sweet too. In a dumb sort of way. I mean, if I was going to run off with an old white man, I could do worse.”
“He’s not that old.”
“He could be my father.”
“He could be your brother. He could be my father. He’s hanging out with Dr. Powers.”
“I know, what’s that all about? Who cares?” Savannah said before they could go down that road. “This is all about me. I could scream, but not right now. I’m too tired. Damn, I wish I hadn’t given up smoking.”
“You’re even more random than usual,” Mason told her.
“Basically, I need your guidance.”
“You left work? ”
“I told them to consider it an extended lunch. The working world is not what I need guidance about. It’s the rest of it.”
“It’s Bobby,” Mason said.
“Yes,” Savannah said, surprised. “Where do you want to go to lunch?”
“That one place with the stuffed mushrooms and that meat pie thingie.”
“Oh, the meat pie, that does sound good right now. And a beer. You want a beer? I’ll sneak you one.”
“Coke’s fine. Plus, don’t I have to go back to school?”
“No,” Savannah said, surprised. “I’m not going back to work.”
“Then I’ll have a beer,” Mason decided.
“Cartimandua Brewing Company,” Savannah said. “That’s where we’re going which means—”
The convertible came to a screeching, though stylish and shiny red halt in the middle of the road, did a U-turn, and headed south.
“You’re just not safe,” Mason told her.
“No,” Savannah shook her head. “And not sensible, either. And how did you know Bobby was the problem?”
“He’s always the problem,” Mason said.
“He used to be good to me.”
“No, he didn’t,” Mason said. “He was just new.”
“Oh,” Savannah moaned, laying back in the driver seat and taking her hand over the scarf she tied her hair back with, “What’s my problem? I need to... get my life back on track.”
“You need to pull to the side of the road,” Mason told his aunt.
“Why?”
“Because the police are chasing us.”
They pulled to the side of the road a block south of Saint Vitus and the cop came out and said, “Did you know you were doing eighty?”
“Well, what’s the limit?”
“Twenty-five in a school zone.”
“Oh,” Savannah took off her shades.
“Savannah Darrow!” the cop said.
“Larry!”
“Savannah, I’m going to have to ticket you.”
“Oh, please, my life is in crisis, goddamnit! Besides, I slept with you. That ought to mean something.”
If Larry the cop had not been so impossibly black, he would have blushed. He gestured to Mason.
“Shit, Mason knows I’m a slut who makes bad decisions. Let me go, Larry, and I might be nice to you later. If you know what I mean. And I know you do.”
“I’m married now.”
“If you don’t tell your wife I won’t tell her either.”
Larry shook his head and said, “Yeah, Savannah, I think I’d better let you go.”
And they were off down the road.
“That’s the second person I’ve run into today,” Savannah said as they reached the corner of Bancroft and Gilchrist.
“Who else?”
“Another old flame. He’s a judge now.”
“You slept with a judge?” Mason said.
“No,” said Savannah, slipping on her shades as she rounded the corner.
“But I did let him eat my coochie.”
Shelley moaned that last time. She hadn’t meant to. Ecstasy was not something she experienced. Maybe three times in her life she could recount a mindblowing ecstasy and not a one of them was related to sex or romance.
She parted from Joel’s body, and he, lying beside her, eyes still wide, stroked her face and her neck. He stroked her side and kissed her in the place over her breasts.
“What time is it?” he said.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
Joel, all concern, rose up and said, “We’d better think about it, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Shelley sighed and turned over to look at the clock, “I’ve got to be back in twenty minutes.”
Joel kissed her and brought her close to him.
“There’s got to be something better than the middle of the day,” he said.
Shelley was about to say, “You gave up Mass for me,” but there was no way Joel would take that well. He had pushed that out of his mind. He had, as far as she knew, never violated a rule of the Church, and now, here he was with her.
“We should shower,” Joel told her.
That was one thing they had in common. The idea of smelling like sex all day, or smelling like sweat wasn’t an attractive one. Her first husband, who had married her after living with her for five years, thought it was fun, thought it was naughty. They would come and do it in the middle of the day and at her work place. It excited him, frightened her. If they were at his place, or later, at their house, then she’d say, “I need to shower,” and he’d say, “You want to get the smell of me off of you?”
And then she wouldn’t bathe and for the rest of the day she’d be sure she smelled like sex. She’d feel dried sweat and dirt on her.
They rushed their shower. It was fun, but not erotic. Joel had a three hour break because of how his bus run was scheduled, so he wasn’t in a hurry at all. Everything he did he did for her. As they were rinsing off she held his hands in hers. She looked into his face. She had to squint because of the water and he was squinting too, water in is face. His hair was dark and plastered to his scalp.
“What?” he said, water falling from his nose and over his lips.
She tilted her head and told him, “I love you.”
Joel grinned and embraced her. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was taller than her and it felt good to be in his embrace, his wet arms warm about her, his chest and stomach, his sex pressed against hers, unaroused and then aroused and all the time him unconscious of it.
He kissed her deeply and said, “You know I love you,” and then reached behind him, turned the shower off and shut off the water. That was plummeting from the faucet into the tub.
Joel drove her back to the library, a smile on his face. There was peace about him. It made Shelley afraid. As long as she’d known Joel the peace that came from him was all about his faith. He went to Mass everyday, he treated everyone like Jesus. For a very long time she thought he just treated everyone fairly, but he had told her, a few weeks into their getting serious, that he tried to treat everyone like Jesus. And, he didn’t believe in sex outside of marriage. He didn’t have to say this. It was to be assumed, and Seth had said something to the effect already.
But Seth was at home during the night and during the afternoon, and it was his senior year. Not the time to start up an affair, have women stay over or tell your child that you were going away for the night. So they had snuck their love life into the afternoons. She had made Joel, in effect, lie to his son and give up church and also, do something he didn’t believe in.
That first time they had been at her house. It had been right after Halloween a couple of weeks ago.
Joel said, “I told Seth I would be back after midnight.” he smiled. “Seth told me I could stay out all night. I don’t believe in that.”
“You’re his only parent,” Shelley sympathized.
Joel nodded as if to say this was true enough. But there was another reason.
“My parents loved to party and being parents was second to them. No, third. Being married was second to them. That’s why it all fell apart.”
“I always thought you were a good Catholic cause you came from a good Catholic home.”
Joel only shook his head.
He was one of those counter rebels. He tried to do everything right because he’d grown up seeing it all done wrong. She understood now.
Joel was nice and kind and sweet and that’s what she expected. She knew he was upstanding and she didn’t need bad boys
anymore. She was tired of badness and incapable of ecstasy, so she hadn’t expected to want him this bad, and she hadn’t expected him to want her, or anything else badly. When the passion had come, and it had been coming on again off again, getting stronger and stronger, they were both surprised.
The passion started on the first date after Seth left and then to the second and by the third they were like teenagers. Joel came over with Seth for dinner. Seth left and they began good old fashioned necking. Then Joel took her to the bedroom, took down her panties, lifted her dress and made love to her there with his mouth. He held her hips down with his hands. The fire went through her. She thought she’d fly away. She couldn’t believe Joel was doing this to her. Not Joel McKenna. When she cried out he put a hand over her mouth, but the second time he realized there was no need to shut up. She moaned and moaned for the first time in years while Joel’s head stayed between her thighs.
That night, before the first time they made love, Shelley said, “The Church?” not that she cared what the Church said.
Wisely, Joel didn’t say anything. He just kissed her at the same time his hand went to her pants, to where she flooded at his touch. It was ten o’clock then. They had about two hours. When it was over they lay on the floor, her head in the crook of Joel’s neck. He was still kissing her and kissing her and they rested. She held onto his torso.
She looked at him, his mouth a little open, his eyes mildly glazed.
“You look like you’re in a dream,” she told him.
He stirred, looked at her and grinned. “I am.”
“You know what we were talking about at lunch—?” Mason began.
Sidney looked at Savannah and said, “You all went to lunch today?”
“I needed to talk.”
“You could have taken me to lunch.”
“I needed to talk to someone wise. You were saying?” Savannah turned back to Mason.
“There is this place,” Mason said, “that I saw on the Internet. It’s called the Say Ya Om Gay Yom House of Rest, and it’s all about prayer and meditation and getting your life back on track.”
“Oh, Mason, that’s what I need. Go with me.”
“What?” Mason.
“We could go together.”
“I think it’s a silent retreat.”
“We can go and be silent together.”
Mason looked at his father.
“If you want,” Sidney said. “Enlightenment’s a good thing.”
“I can’t wait. Let’s go on the computer right now,” Savannah urged.
They got up and went to his room and he turned the computer on.
They sat there waiting for it to come on and Savannah said, “Damn, Mason, this computer is slow.”
“If you think this is slow,” said Mason. “Wait till we get on the Internet. It’s AOL.”
“Shit,” Savannah said. “You got a cigarette, Mason?”
“Savannah!” Mason said. “I’m sixteen.”
“You got a cigarette, Mason?”
Mason reached into his book bag and took out a pack of Maverick’s.
“Thanks.”
“I thought you gave it up.”
“I’ve decided to give up sex instead.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve decided to give it up for the next ten hours.”
“I still don’t believe you.”
“I’ve decided to give up sex until we get off the Internet.”
“I still don’t—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’m your elder goddamnit.”
Mason shrugged and ran his fingers over the keyboard.
“Okay, here it is,” he said.
“I don’t know about this Mason. It’s a bunch of really scary looking white people smiling in front of a building.”
“That which does not kill us—”
“Can drive us crazy. I don’t know about this.”
“Listen to this,” Mason said, reading off the information:
“We provide a quiet and peaceful atmosphere for meditation, concentration and sharing the human spirit.”
“Damn, we must be desperate.”
“You know we are,” Mason said. “At least—you are.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m only being real.”
“How much does it cost?” Savannah said.
“Are you broke?”
“Are we really doing this?” Savannah said as she shook her head and scratched the phone number out.
“Yes.”
Savannah sighed as Mason clicked to his e-mail.
“Damn,” she said.
“Damn,” Mason said, shaking his head. “No e-mails. Nobody loves me. I gotta go get on the phone and have some frivolous teenage conversation.”
“So, are the Darrows okay?” Rick asked Mark.
“What?” Mark said, across the table at Ciao’s. All around them business men were sitting down to short and sensible lunches in the mildly fashionable downtown restaurant.
“Well, Sidney’s sister, Mason Darrow’s aunt, came by yesterday and took him out of school. She said it was a pressing affair.”
Mark thought about this, and he thought about the Darrows. Then he said, with a frown in his forehead, “I’m sure they’re fine. It was probably just a little bit of trouble.”
“Hum,” Rick smiled pleasantly. “How’re your breadsticks? I don’t know why I got French onion soup. I don’t like French onion.”
“Here,” Mark said, passing a fat breadstick.
“Oh, no, I was just saying.”
“Here,” Mark repeated and put the breadstick on Rick’s plate. He poured out some sauce. “And that’s to complete the whole experience.”
“Thanks,” Rick said, grinning.
“No one should be without breadsticks. Can I ask you something, Rick?”
“Hum?”
“About that whole thing the other night—?”
“Mark, please,” Rick said. “If you have any respect for me—”
“I do have respect for you,” Mark said, “And as a psychiatrist—”
“You’re not my psychiatrist—” Rick said, becoming visibly agitated.
“I know that,” Mark sounded petulant to himself, “and if you’d let me finish speaking I was going to say as a psychiatrist I don’t intervene in people’s affairs, but as your friend, I want to know more.”