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In her distraction, she found herself not on her way back to the house but on the highway. She drove with no aim, the long road stretching like a black velvet ribbon. The setting sun a cat’s yellow eye closing shut. She drove into Hemery, merging with other cars full of people heading for home. Heading to a warm dinner, warm arms, a warm bed. The trees were still green and full of beautiful secrets. Further, a little bit further. The wind seemed to whisper in her ears, through her hair. Just a little further. This is the lovely season. Her season, his season. The season that was always on the verge of fading into dusk and smoky, brittle brown leaves. She drove through the streets, drinking in the glass fronted buildings, the concrete sidewalks teeming with people. Here, life had gone on. Things moved, bustled, changed. Back there was a stagnant pond, murky and deep. Encrusted with algae, the only movement the slow growth of microscopic water plants that needed no light to grow. But here, she could breathe. It was not Baltimore, but there was the same sense of purpose to the growing landscape of tract housing and commercial spaces. She found herself in the main shopping district. Pulled into the mall, her eyes blinded by the lights flooding the parking lot. Inside, she was disconcerted as though a stranger in a strange land. It was noisy and colorful. Full of people walking around clutching shopping bags, worshipping the idols of commerce and material fulfillment. She understood this. This need to own, to possess, to acquire. Too many years of having so little and then marrying Riley, who had given her a gold card and his never-ending indulgence. She had been the only teacher with a Mercedes Benz and a Greek Revival home in Inner Harbor. She wandered the mall, looking through store windows aimlessly, searching for she knew not what. The low soft hum of adult contemporary music tinny in her ears. She stopped in front of one store window, mesmerized by the dark blue dress on the arrogantly postured mannequin. It was a strange style. Not at all what was fashionable these days. Full pleated skirt with a tight bodice and a peter pan collar. Too demure, too plain for the current trends. She walked into the store as if in a trance, asked the saleslady if she could try it on. When she retreated into a dressing room, she sat on the dressing bench and closed her eyes, feeling the knife-edged crispness of the pleats under her hands. She had once owned a dress like this. *********************************************** “Hello.” She looked up from her plate of cheese and crackers to see a very tall and sturdy young man staring down at her with warm eyes. “Um, hello.” “I’m Riley.” He stuck out a large hand for her to shake. Waited patiently while she fumbled with her plate and cup of punch. Finally, she managed to set her drink on a nearby table and grasp his hand in her own clammy one. “I’ve been watching you all night.” “Me?” He laughed. “Art History, third row from the back, sixth seat from the left, right?” “Pardon?” Her hand was still in his smooth, cool one. That was one thing she had learned here. All the Harvard boys were smooth and cool. “I’m in that class too.” “Oh.” She fidgeted under his intense and interested gaze. “So, do you come here often?” “No.” This was her first fraternity party. She had not wanted to come at all but her suitemate begged her to. ‘Buffy, you can’t spend your life in the library. College is supposed to be fun. Let’s go out, have some drinks, meet some boys. A nice Jewish premed for me and a tall football player for you.’ She had laughed at Willow and agreed grudgingly. Another night at the library did seem pathetic and lonely. And she had finished all her schoolwork for the week. Not to mention for the next two weeks. She looked over at Willow who was standing in the corner, laughing at something a short boy was saying. The lamplight glinting off her red hair. “No, this is my first time here.” She withdrew her hand from his grasp and wiped her sweaty palm against the folds of her dark blue dress. And managed to drop her plate at the same time. Stared in horror and embarrassment at the yellow cubes of cheese now scattered on the carpet. She bent down to clean it up but he stopped her, his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” And he did. He took care of her all night, asking her for every dance, refilling her drink when it got too low, talking to her about his family and football while she nodded and tried to smile encouragingly. “What about your family Buffy?” “I have a mother.” “Any brothers or sisters?” “No.” “What does your father do?” He leaves. She smiled awkwardly. “My father is gone.” Riley looked contrite. “Oh…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to pry.” “No, that’s alright.” There was a long silence while he shifted uncomfortably and she stared into her drink. “What do you like to do for fun?” “I don’t know.” God, she was stupid. She couldn’t talk to boys at all. She wished she were at the dorm, curled up in bed with a book, or at the library. He laughed softly. “You don’t look like you’re having a good time.” She looked at him stricken. “Oh no, no I am. Really. This is great.” He brushed her hand with the back of his and she shivered. “You have the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.” She backed away. “That is not a nice thing to say.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that you’re…you’re different. I see you around, in coed class, at the library, and you look so…so mysterious.” She laughed. That was her, Miss Mysterious. Miss Lost and Alone. “You look so alive. As though you’ve really lived.” Was that really how she appeared to the outside world? Nothing could be more wrong. To appear full of life when she was already half dead. This boy understood nothing. “You don’t know anything about me.” He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But you’re going to teach me.” And when he asked her if could call on her, she said yes. And when he brought her flowers, she took them and put them in water. And when he kissed her for the first time, she closed her eyes and kissed him back. And when he asked her to marry him on one knee, she laughed and accepted with tears rolling down her cheeks. ********************************************************* She ended up not trying on the dress. Left the fitting room and handed it back to the saleswoman who frowned at her irritated. She walked out of the store and continued to wander. She went up to the second floor, looking down over the railing at people walking below. She suddenly felt dizzy and ducked into another store. It sold music and electronics and she knew this trip hadn’t been wasted. She inspected all the personal tape players carefully and finally chose a small black one with headphones. She would give it to him tomorrow. She picked out some cassettes, a wide variety, not knowing what he liked. Things that had been popular when they were young. Music by people long dead and infrequently listened to in this time that was wild for new wave and still enamored by punk. She made sure to include her favorite song. Her next stop was the bookstore where she chose tapes of books they had read and tapes of books he would never see in paper and ink. Her final purchase was a pair of sunglasses. It was silly but she worried about his eyes being hurt by the sun. She wanted to take him back to the cornfield and to the pond. This was harder and she agonized over the display. There were so many different kinds and she wanted to pick the right pair. If he could have seen them, he would not want something too flashy or expensive. Nothing too trendy. The saleswoman hovered over her and seemed disappointed when she finally chose a pair of simple black ones. Satisfied with her purchases, she walked through the food court and realized she was hungry and thirsty. She bought a hamburger and Diet Coke and sat at a bench, eating and watching people walk by. Women pushing strollers, young girls hand in hand with their boys, husbands with their arms slung around their wives’ shoulders. She heard a screech and turned to her left to see a haggard woman dragging her fussy son by the arm. When the woman smacked the boy across his bottom, she felt tears gathering in her eyes. Suddenly her appetite was gone. She threw away her food and grabbed her bags and purse. She made her way quickly out of the mall and back into the parking lot. Wiped her achy eyes with the back of her hand when she discovered she had forgotten where she had parked the Buick. She walked through rows and rows of cars, growing panicked in the approaching darkness. Finally she spotted it and almost slumped to the asphalt with relief. Once she was back inside the car and on the road, she turned on the radio. Listened to the oldies station. To the honeyed croon of Ella Fitzgerald, calling out through the static and miles of black road illuminated by her headlights. There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood
Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed
Someone to watch over me… When she reached Revello Drive, she could see the darkness of his house in the distance. No lights on in the blank windows, no sounds of the television or chattering voices. Just silence. Was he wandering cobblestone streets in restless dreams, his pale face glowing under gaslit flame? Was he awake and calling out to her without speaking, from his empty room? I am here. I will always return to you. I will never let you be without again. She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Walked slowly to the house, her eyes fixed on the white house next door. So intent on his presence so close yet so far away, she did not even notice there was someone on the porch until she heard the creak of the porch swing. She gasped and dropped her bags. Mr. Giles emerged from the darkness and she was shocked by his appearance. His eyes glassy and bloodshot, his tie askew and shirt rumpled. “I have been waiting here for you for hours.” “Mr. Giles, what is it? What’s happened?” She immediately looked towards his window, fear twisting her gut, forcing its way up to her throat. “Dr. Travers is dead.” “W-what?” He grabbed her arm and shook her. “He disconnected his oxygen tank. Ripped his breathing tube from his throat. What did you say to him?” She wrenched her arm from his iron grasp and turned to bend over the porch railing. And vomited. Where are you? She did not bring me dinner tonight. It is a warning to stay away from you. Does she think she can starve you out of me? They have tried before. Back there, when I had no name and only a number. Back there when they would call me insane and imbalanced. When they would…when they would try to shock me into submission. When they would…come to me in the night and put their hands over my mouth and tear off my clothes and take me because I would not obey. They took away my paper and pens. They tied me to my bed. And she would visit me and tell me when I got better she would take me home. And I would laugh and laugh. My only home is you. She will never starve you out of me. |