Driving home from the Brauns I tried to make sense, my kind of sense out of the Claire Braun I had just left and the Claire Braun whose home I lived in for three years as a teenager. It took only a few minutes for my theory-- and trying to understand why people do what they do can only be theory-- to take shape. There was no difference in the Claire Braun of my youth and the Claire Braun I had just left. What I was looking for, yearning for as a child STILL hadn't been there during my visit. Affection. I was at her home the better part of an hour and except for two handshakes there had been no physical contact. But she was kind and caring and I bet she was the same way when I was with her as a kid. But I wouldn't have realized that because I was looking for something else.
It was that simple, the Brauns had given me all that they had to give. And now that they wanted to give me a bit more of their friendship and their brand of kindness maybe I'd let them, maybe it would be good for my head. I decided I'd give that more consideration but I remember feeling at peace with them and myself, at least until I got home.
The answering machine light was blinking and it was Kathy Scully's voice that I played back.
"Hello Sean, I'm ready to see you again. I'll call you after ten tonight, I KNOW you'll be there. 'Bye, sweetie." I'd been longing to get a message from her, especially one like that, but it still gave me the creeps. At that time I hadn't had any normal conversations with her that I could fall back on, everything had been so off the wall. She was so great to look at, and for a moment here or there she'd been sweet, but for the most part she had been the strangest human being I had ever been around. I had three beers between my TV dinner and ten o'clock, two more than normal. She had to have been watching the clock as closely as I had been because the phone rang at one minute after ten.
"It's great to hear your voice, Sean. I've missed you, did you miss me?"
"Miss you? Damn right I missed you, but you knew I couldn't call you, it was YOU who decided we wouldn't talk." As usual when she didn't want to answer a question of mine she just pretended I didn't ask it.
"When are we going to get together? I'm free next weekend. The whole weekend."
"Free from what?" It was my attempt to try to get some kind of handle on what she had been doing for the last two months.
"Free from not being able to see you, that's what. So let's do Friday so that maybe we could do Saturday. And Sunday!" She was certainly a trip. And she would have reminded Janice of me!
"Okay, tell you what. Friday it is, you drive down to my place. We'll leave your car here and go out. I'll have a nice place for dinner picked out and then we'll wing it."
"Duh."
"Okay, you're right-- so I want to be in control, to some extent at least. And I sure as hell want to get back to my place with you at some point; but come on, you know damn well you're not going to do anything you don't want to do. And neither am I. Don't plan on springing anything TOO wacky on me, we're going to spend some time discussing anything out of the ordinary BEFORE it becomes something out of the ordinary." I was laughing over the last few words. "You got that, Ms. Scully?
"Give me directions to your place." I felt very strong and I slept like a child that night.
The next day began another week at Scully Sales and as with the day before it would turn out to be a day to remember. We'd gone a few months without losing any more accounts-- a major accomplishment for us-- and we'd also not gotten into any trouble. Sure, it was the summertime, and there's less chance for principles to nail you on little shit, but we'd had bad Julys and bad Augusts before. We were definitely going through a good stretch, so much so that, the one time I tried to make a comment to Jim about it, he put his hands up in a time-out position, then put his finger over his lips to signal me to be quiet. Jim believed in jinxes, and he wasn't going to let me put a hex on our good roll. I nodded my head and put my hands up as if to say 'Okay, I got you.' Sign language for the superstitiously challenged.
After my regularly scheduled Monday morning meeting with Jim and Rick, Jim asked me to stay behind.
"The old man wants to see you. I gave him my word I wouldn't tell you what it's about, so I won't, but it's good. Go ahead up right now and come see me when you're done."
"You're sure it's good now, I don't have to prepare or anything?"
"Listen closely," he motioned me closer. "GET THE FUCK UPSTAIRS AND COME BACK WHEN YOU'RE DONE!"
I still had a little bit of doubt left, it's hard to un-condition yourself after so many trips 'upstairs' where just about every one was trouble but I was relatively confident. His door was closed so I stood a quietly in front of Ruthless' desk while she finished up a phone call. Or at least I thought she would finish up the call. After a couple of minutes of watching her make believe she hadn't noticed me and continue to blab to a secretary downstairs, I knocked on Scully's door. She was out of her chair and practically in my face at the precise moment he said "Come in." I opened the door, turned and gave the rotten old bitch a smirk as I walked on in.
"Good morning Mr. Scully, Jim said you wanted to see me."
"Good morning, son, sit down." Son! He always called me Murphy, I swear I don't think at that time he knew my first name was Sean. But 'son', I got real confident then.
"Has Jim told you what this is about? I told him not to."
"No sir, he just said you wanted to see me right away."
"How long have you been with us now, close to ten years?" Close enough.
"Yes sir, sure have."
"Well, you've come a long way Murphy. Regular Alger Hiss. Success story." Scully graduated from Colgate University but somewhere along the way he'd lost the ability to speak in complete sentences. He always seemed to be in a hurry to get his message out. I'll bet at his wedding she said "I do", and he said "Yeah."
"Yes sir, thanks to you and Jim and all the people that I worked for. And that worked for me."
"That's right. Okay, I'll get to it. you're now the vice-president of retail. No more director shit. Here." He handed me a nameplate, Sean Murphy, Vice-President Retail.
"Tell Mike to put it on your door. Take the other one down first." He wasn't joking. Jim and I had once discussed that as he'd gotten older and the liquor began to mess up his mind he had lost the ability to deal with major issues. But he simultaneously began to focus on inconsequential things, to worry when there was no need, to state the most pitifully obvious.
"Wow, thank you, sir. This means a great deal to me. I really appreciate it."
"Jim's got money for you. Keep up the good things." He waved his hand and spun around in his chair to face the window. I stood there perhaps three seconds, deciding if I should say another word, before I turned quickly and left.
I was more than a bit full of myself as I walked past Ruthless, who had her head down so as not to acknowledge me. I knew a button to push.
"Thanks, Ms. Blackmore. Appreciated your help there before." She was the queen of, among other things, anti-feminism. She made Phyllis Schlafly sound like Gloria Steinem.
"That's 'Mrs.' Blackmore, Sean."
"That's Vice-President Murphy, Ms. Ruth." I didn't break stride as I headed for the sanctuary of Jim's office.
"Christ, Sean, you know better than to piss off Ruthless.She'll get your ass somehow, I guarantee it." I just have this need to confess everything to Jim, even little shit like messing with Ruthless. I knew he'd say that, but I felt better after he did.
"Fuck her, I'm a VP now. Man, I love this you know?"
"I thought you would. You deserved it; you deserved it six months after we put you in charge of retail. How long ago was that, like two years?"
"Little over three."
"Well, he did it, that's what matters. Did he say anything about money?"
"He said you'd take care of it. You know, he kind of said it in that goofy way he talks. So, how much?"
"I recommended ten, he said that was too much so we settled on five. But I'll make sure you get an extra five grand in your bonus. Fuck him. let's have a cigar. Shut the door and open the window." He reached down to a bottom desk drawer and took out two beautiful Punch cigars, three F's he called them. Fat, fierce and fresh. They were and we stunk up his office as we discussed this and that for a while. He got around to asking me if I'd heard from Kathy.
"She called last night, and we're going out Friday. She's coming to my place, and we'll go from there."
"I know what I told you last, and I don't mean to go back and forth, but he will fire you, and it could just be your luck that we hang on for quite a while, which would put you in a bit of a fucked-up position."
"I know. Look, I don't have a wife, a kid or a mortgage. I pay two hundred and twenty bucks a month for my car lease and six hundred a month for my apartment. That's basically it. I could live on fumes until we got back together. Fuck 'im."
"Okay, just be careful, she's... hey, I don't have to tell you about her." He waved his hand as if to say "Let's forget about her." I nodded, but I was now thinking about her every dead moment of every day.
The week went by slowly, I've always had difficulty with time. I either want to speed it up to get to something or I'm trying to slow it down out of some dread. I try to live for the moment I'm in but I've never done a good job of it, either right here in the car on the way to South Dakota or that week before my next encounter with Kathy Scully. But of course Friday came and I got home at six-thirty, showered, shaved and dressed. Only this time I tried to anticipate what 'treat' she might be thinking of giving me and I decided I'd take some measures to maintain control. And as it turned out I guessed right.
We said eight, and my bell rang at a couple of minutes after. You would think that after almost three months I would have built up seeing her so much that it would have been at least somewhat anti-climatic. No chance. I let her in and I had barely closed the door when I felt her hands on my shoulders. I turned around and we were kissing, long and very hard. Her perfume was making my head spin, it was overwhelming.
We were there, standing up in my living room for a few minutes, long enough that I started to think about blowing off the eight-thirty dinner reservations I'd made in Long Beach. But she suddenly pulled away and in a very relaxed fashion asked what time did we need to leave to make the restaurant. I considered it much more a showing of who was in control rather than any real concern for our dinner plans. I gathered myself as best I could to answer her.
"We're supposed to be at Marco's in twenty minutes. I'm ready." It was my play for control.
"Yeah, I'm starved, let's go."
On the way over she sat very close to me, sometimes almost facing me with some combination of her two hands and chin on my right shoulder, it all felt good. It wasn't until I opened the car door for her in Marco's parking lot that I noticed what she was wearing. It was all Kathy. White tank top, made from some kind of shear material. Dark blue silk pants, flat-heeled, open-toe shoes. She wore several bracelets on each wrist, rings on most of her fingers and the very large silver hoop earrings which she'd worn each of the times I'd seen her. I also noticed she had a small butterfly tattoo on her right shoulder It barely stuck out from beneath the right strap of her blouse. Very sexy.
We walked in; I gave my name and was told our table would be ready in a couple of moments. We waited at the bar.
"Still not drinking?"
"I've been known to have a glass of red wine on special occasions."
"Is this a special occasion?"
"Do you intend to make it one?" I ordered us two glasses of Cabernet.
"So what the hell have you been doing with yourself all summer?"
"Well, I was pretty deep in a relationship, but it's over."
"How long were you with him?"
"On and off for a couple of years. It heated up right after I saw you last and we spent a lot of time together."
"Do you want to tell me about him, or..."
"Maybe, but not now. The hostess is motioning to us, come on."
The restaurant was dark and crowded; we had one of those little table for twos where by the time the entree comes you're trying to find a place for the butter dish and your water glass. In the center it had a tiny wineglass red lamp with a candle inside, it framed her face with a reddish glow. For a while we talked about nothing, when the waiter came we ordered two more glasses of red wine.
"Your dad made me a Vice-President this week."
"I know, congratulations."
"How did you know?"
"Because he told me he was going to do it."
"Why would he tell you something about me?"
"Because after I met you at the Christmas party I told him about it. I told him that you were really sweet, and I ask him about you once in a while."
"You think that's smart?"
"No offense, but you are so far removed from the kind of guy my father thinks I should be dating that he'd never consider you and me being... together. In his mind, I'm going to marry a professional, a doctor, an attorney. Money and position, that's why I went to Princeton, isn't it?
"Is it?"
"To him it is."
"And you, why DID you go?"
"Because I got in, and you don't turn down Princeton."
"What was your major?"
"Political science."
"Do you intend to do anything with it?"
"Yeah, I'm going to run for governor."
"So why did you take it?"
"Because it was easy."
"Okay, enough of that. Tell me what you're all..." At that point the waiter came, and we ordered a couple of the specials he recited.
"So you were starting to tell me about yourself."
"No, you were still asking the question."
"Jesus you're tough." I repeated my question dragging out each word. "So tell me what you're all about."
"What do you want to know?" We laughed together. She was playing with me, keeping her distance while being as sexy and flirtatious as usual. It was an extraordinarily appealing combination.
"Start with your childhood, how was it growing up rich?"
"I always had everything I wanted, and a lot that I didn't."
"What did you have that you didn't want?"
"I didn't want so much that it made me different from my friends. I didn't want to spend my summers traveling around the world with one parent or another."
"One parent or another? Not both together, ever?"
"Once. We all went to England. It was awful." Her face conveyed a sadness I hadn't seen in her before, but I was still frustrated at the way she was choosing to converse.
"You want to know why it was awful?"
"Yes, I would like to know why it was awful. I would like to have a conversation with you, that's really what I'd like."
"You're so cute. It was awful because they didn't get along. They didn't get along when we were home on Long Island, but they weren't together every moment like they were in England. We were supposed to stay for two weeks, but we came home after about a week. I don't think they ever loved each other, and I'm certain they don't love each other today. Lately she's starting to drink as much as he does, and that's awful. And it's awful that I still live with them."
"Well, what's your plan? Are you working, are you going to get your own place?"
"Christ, I feel like I'm on the witness stand. How come I don't ask you any questions? How about telling me about Sean Murphy?"
"I'll tell you anything you want to know, but answer my question-- my LAST question: What's your plan? Do you have a plan?" She shook her head and looked down for a moment. It was the first time she had appeared even slightly vulnerable.
"Excuse me, veal for the lady. Sir, your chicken a la Marco."
I backed off for a bit while we ate. I don't think we spoke at all for a minute or two, maybe more.
"I assume you don't want anything to do with your father's business?"
"I wouldn't mind being around you every day." It was good to see a smile come back on her face.
"Really though, has he ever asked you?"
"What do you think?" I had to laugh.
"You're starting again." I pronounced each syllable. "Con-ver-sat-ion."
"Of course he has, not recently, not in a few years. And of course I don't want to be a food broker." The last two words were coated with disdain.
"Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded, it's just not something I'd fit in with."
"Don't worry. I don't think I fit in, and I'd get out tomorrow if I could."
"Why can't you?"
"Because it's the best job I could get with my qualifications. You graduated from Princeton. I went one semester to DWU."
"What's that?"
"You mean you've never heard of Dakota Wesleyan University, in Mitchell, South Dakota? The school that George McGovern taught at? I'm shocked!"
"He ran for president and lost. I was a political science major, you know."
"So I've heard." She was wearing me out, but her goal, I think, was to wear me down. To get me to the point where I'd do anything she said, anything she came up with. I wanted to let her know I might, but I'd make the decision. I'd determine if it would happen or not. We had two more glasses of wine with our meal and were finishing up with coffee.
"So what's YOUR plan for the rest of the evening?" We sparred on.
"You still haven't told me your plan to get out of your parents house."
"Maybe I don't want to leave."
"You said that your being there was awful."
"That's right but I didn't say I wanted to leave." She was really tough.
"Okay, we'll drop that for now. My plan? How 'bout we go for a ride. I've got a moon roof that I haven't opened all summer, and it's a beautiful night. We can continue our conversation..."
She interrupted me: "Interrogation."
"Fine, interrogation. I'll finish you and then you can start on me."
"I love it when you talk dirty."
We drove north, then west, on the old Belt Parkway, the lone highway that runs along the south shore of Queens and Brooklyn. After a few miles you begin to ride with the Atlantic Ocean to your left, never more than a few hundred yards away. Along the way are dozens of places to pull in and park, to take in the view from your car or walk along the ocean. A bit of it is beachfront, much is just pathways. Often the drop is steep and lined with guard rails, but it's all lovely, and I figured we'd stop somewhere to take it all in.
There's no doubt I was trying to relive the night I'd had with Janice, to realize the unfulfilled promise that night brought. Unlike Janice, there was no question in my mind I was in love with this girl, problems aside-- and a helluvan aside, I might add-- I wanted to be with her every waking minute. I hadn't felt that way about anyone in my adult life, and I can easily dismiss the times I thought I was in love before I reached the age of twenty for precisely that reason. I'd been planning this drive all week, for the pleasure and for an opportunity to finally be in control while in Kathy's company. It was a strong need on my part and I was firm in my mind that I wouldn't be denied.
"This is beautiful ,Sean. I've don't think I've ever been right here. Where are we?"
"Well, that's Brooklyn on your right, and I would think you know the name of that body of water." Her style was rubbing off on me.
"Are you going to pull into one of the parking areas we keep passing? God, I'd love to do it right there in the car. It's dark, but there are other cars around, and I even see people walking around. It'd be great." She had been close to me; she now had her left hand on my neck and her right hand in my lap.
"We'll stop, but any sex we have tonight, and I sure hope we have it, will be in my bed. We could actually get busted for messing around in the car around here, cops patrol all the time. We're not sixteen; hell, I'm gonna be thirty-six. I like to fool around but... let me say something." The volume on my CD player was already turned down very low; I turned James Taylor off.
"I'd don't know what you're feeling for me-- hell, I haven't begun to figure out anything about you. But I gotta tell you, I'm falling for you big time. If that freaks you out or makes you uncomfortable, say it. Say it now and get it over with."
"You don't understand."
"I just said I can't figure you out, so what? You don't know anything about me, I don't think you've asked me three questions about anything, nothing about me. But what I'm saying is if you don't feel anything special about me, if all you want is a guy to have sex in strange places with, well, tonight I'm not buying. I'm not saying not to call me, I'm not saying I wouldn't do it in somebody's driveway or something tomorrow night, but tonight it's my way."
"Or the highway?"
"NO HIGHWAY! You are something else." We were laughing; I loved the sound of her laugh. Hell, I loved the sound of her voice; I loved everything about her. But in a moment the laughter stopped and she was quiet.
"What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking how much I'd like to do you in one of those parking areas. It's something that I need. I've been like this for a while, you know."
"How long is a while?"
"Since I was sixteen. The first time I had sex it was in the guy's den with his parents eating dinner one room away."
"What do you mean, 'had sex'? What did you do?"
"Like he put his dick in me, that kind of sex."
"I assume you didn't get caught."
"No, and it was great. And I've wanted to do it like that ever since."
"Do you ever do it without risk?"
"Sometimes, not very often. It's not that great when I do. It's not terrible but, you know....."
"No shit now, how was it with us?"
"Not bad, okay." I got off an exit so that I could turn around and get back on, heading east.
"Why are you getting off? Where are we going?" She said it softly, softer than her usual voice. I wasn't sure if she was just getting relaxed and comfortable or getting turned on with the thought we were going somewhere to stop.
"I'm heading back to my place. Get comfortable, put the music back on and enjoy the ride. If you're in the mood in half an hour, great; if not, I'll take you home." She snuggled close again and stayed quiet for a few minutes. Just as I was starting to think everything was going the way I wanted-- even as I was thinking where we might go tomorrow night that might be a bit exciting, in her kind of way-- she was sliding her hand inside my pants.
"What the hell do you have on?" She unzipped my fly. "Jesus Christ, what are these, biker shorts?"
"A man's got to protect himself. I knew we'd be going for a ride and I kind of figured you'd want to do what you're doing and I KNEW I'd let you, and that we might wind up in a ditch, so I wore a condom. A very special kind of condom."
"You are something, Sean Murphy. What if I sit here and do myself?"
"I'll move into the right lane and try not to watch you too much. It's dark-- go for it." I drove on the right, and was out of my mind by the time we got to my place. We never made it into my bedroom, starting on the sofa and finishing on the floor. It was the best sex I'd ever had, close to an hour, exhausting and exhilarating. We were still on the floor, our backs resting against the sofa a few minutes after we finished.
"Not bad, Sean Murphy. You're okay."
"Is that being damned with faint praise or what?"
"From me that's a high compliment. There's nobody else in this house, Sean. Now you owe me again."
"Fine. But what about what I said, remember?" She hesitated and started to respond but I cut her off. "Wait, forget it. Too soon. Let me ask you a different question. How about a movie tomorrow night. Dinner first or after, I don't care."
"Movie first. I'll come here. When do you want me?"
"I want you as early as you can get here."
"I'll be here at seven, How's that?"
I'd decided that I'd made enough progress, whatever the hell
that meant. And trying to pin her down this girl even a little so
quickly-- she was barely twenty-two years old-- was stupid. We
kissed good-bye in the house, at the door and at her car. But
instead of getting in her car, she asked me if I was hungry. In
two minutes, we were in the diner.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden