Chapter 8

It was mid-afternoon at 1147 Jason drive. Wednesday, May 8. Diane Baylor, sitting in her living room with a cup of tea balanced on the arm of her chair, was mired down in the deepest, most confusing of thoughts. For the hundredth time in the last few weeks she sought to puzzle out the strange change that was coming over her. And something else besides.

Something like the unmistakable change that had come over Ken, her husband, also.

Something was brewing. And she didn't like the smell of it at all.

It had the strong odor of infidelity.

And yet ... Impossible. Absolutely impossible. Not my Ken...

She almost laughed at the idea. It just couldn't be. She was acting like a fool. like a silly, rattle-brained female who hadn't anything better to do with her time than envision fantastic escapades her plodding husband was having with his secretary, with the waitress who served him his lunch, with almost any loose female who walked God's green earth.-

And ... Stop that! This instant!

Of more concern was the fitful restlessness she felt mounting within her. II Ken was home this afternoon at this moment, she thought. The children are napping And even if they weren't, I wouldn't let that stop me. I'd send them out to play, I'd coax dear Kenny into the bedroom. And then...

She felt a liquid torridness deep in her body, her legs ached all at once. Diane, she chided, feeling an evil lack of real chagrin, what's getting into you anyway? You're acting like a lust-up tramp. You're too young for menopause.

And if that's so, then what in creation kind of change-of-life is this anyway?

This was incredible. That she'd actually sit here like this, in broad daylight, with the sun streaming in the windows, and think about things like s.he and Ken in bed. Think about the way his hands felt on her, the way his lips could tie her up in knots.

Diane ... stop now. Do you hear? This is insane.

Insane this might be. But a real manifestation nevertheless. And between her reveries she sipped her tea. determinedly, fought to shut out the pictures, to understand what was happening to her.

Could such a thing be? That for five years she'd had only superficial interest in the love act, and that now, all of a sudden, at thirty, she'd be so helpless before the love drive, reborn so to speak? Granted, she'd read such articles. The essence of her gleanings was that at thirty the female sex urge increases, reaches a peak at thirty-five. But she'd laughed the information off, never believed that could happen to her.

And yet ... wasn't that true? Wasn't her evil craving at this moment proof positive?

Also, if that was so, why the relapses in between? When she couldn't stand to have Ken touch her? How could you explain that?

Maybe this was just the beginning, maybe she was building to something. like mighty, powerful waves, with giant peaks and valleys between. Perhaps in time the peaks would diminish, the valleys became shallower. Until the sea was all smooth, a continuing force. Until there would be no lapses of shame and regret in between love events. Only anticipation of the next.

And wasn't there something to be said for the intrinsic therapeutic value of the male-female love act? The other night, after Ken had finally finished, hadn't she felt so totally satisfied and complete? Hadn't she slept like a baby the rest of the night? And the next day, hadn't she been happy as a lark, hadn't she just sailed through things?

As much as she hated to admit that, it was true. Both times, lately the act had left her feeling happy and refreshed. The guilt pangs had had little chance to disturb her. And now, this afternoon. If she wasn't changing, how could she explain this away?

Perhaps there was much to be said for the love act as recreation rather than chore. Couldn't that justifiably be entered into joyfully and wantonly? With just a dash of mischievous playfulness to give extra zest? Couldn't there be love without a grinding sense of duty and conscience? Couldn't the act be brought off for the act's sake alone?

And ... Hadn't she had fun the last two times? When she'd turned basic and animal, had let Ken know how much she was enjoying him? Had received bonus of sensation in the bargain.

Honey, honey, she teased now. You've been missing the boat. For a long, long time now. For too long. But watch out, Kenny-love. Your days are numbered.

The rattle of her empty teacup on the saucer, the way her hands were shaking, brought her out of her wicked torpor. And an entirely different train of thought came in from a different direction.

The 3:13. On time this afternoon.

The way Ken had been so distracted when he'd come home late from school last night. The fact that he'd stayed late one night last week. That wasn't his style. He was too efficient a teacher to make himself stay after.

Last night had been the corker. She hadn't been able to get two words out of him all evening.

She considered the rash of late evenings during the past three weeks. That wasn't like Ken either. Usually he was more than content to stay home and stagnate. Especially that committee meeting last week, when he came home so dragged out. Suspicion flared with an arc-light flame.

Could this be? Ken had taken so long. So delightfully long. Could that have been the explanation? Could he have been with a woman all evening? Ken wasn't exactly noted for being slow fuse.

He wouldn't dare, she raged. He wouldn't dare humiliate me like that. To use me like that, second in line.

Abruptly her anger was dissipated. Her thoughts rumbled like so much dry sand as Carol came out of her room and said, "Mommy, I can't sleep. Can I get up now?"

"Yes, baby," she said, rising from the chair to straighten Carol's clothes. At the same time she felt dizzy, too suddenly returned to reality.

What's getting into you? To think things like that? Weren't the love fancies bad enough? Do you have to dishonor Ken also?

And yet there was too strong an indication that something was afoot. A woman has to be practical. His comings and goings from now on would bear watching. Very close watching.

She took Carol's hand somewhat roughly and led her toward the bathroom.

It was four o'clock of that same afternoon. And at Holcomb High Baylor had a visitor in the person of Dave Frazer. And because it had been one of those days, rough and confused, complicated by the turmoil of thoughts in the background, Ken was glad to see his raunchy friend. He anticipated the interlude of levity.

Only today, levity was not foremost in Dave Frazer's mind. He was doing a little investigating. Things had been happening around Holcomb High that he wanted to be in on. "How's it by you and Tessa?" he said, coming out with it, hitting Ken between the eyes with the confrontation.

Ken was badly winged, but not downed. He let his smile freeze only briefly, then bluffed like mad. "Tessa? Oh the same. We've got a wild, passionate thing going. We get together morning noon and night. We've got a place fixed up in the library. Way on top of the stacks, where nobody can see us. Drop up sometime, why don't you?"

"Come off that, buddy. You don't fool me one bit. C'mon, give me the truth. I got eyes, I see you and Tessa with your heads together in the library all the time. What cooks? You two got a little thing going? You can tell me; you know your secret's safe with me."

"Just as safe as announcing it over the P.A. system at nine in the morning."

"You know me better than that, Ken. I just want the straight scoop. Give, buddy. Something must be cooking."

"like I say," Ken grinned, confident now that he was on top of the situation, "we're in the library, whaling away three times a day. We're trying to break a record set by some guy in France. Look that up in the almanac."

Frazer was persistent if he was anything. "How about dibs on that? I could use a little of her brand. I know she's a good one. Ummgh! I can feel that in my bones every time I see her shake that cute little rear of hers down the hall. Don't be stingy with her. Fix her up with me, will you? I'm sure that little chick won't turn down a seasoned veteran of the bed-sheet wars like me."

"Why don't you check with Tessa herself? Maybe she can squeeze you into her crowded schedule."

"That has all the earmarks of a dirty crack."

"Besides, what happened to Rose and Peggy? You want a corner on all the stuff in town? I thought you had a thing going with them."

"I did. But that ran full course. After all, once you've had 'em, what're the odds in hanging around? Love 'em and leave 'em, that's my motto."

"You should have a coat of arms made up."

"I already have." Dave sat on the edge of Ken's desk. "Now listen. Are you going to give me a straight answer or not?"

"I already did. Sorry, chum, I'm a married man. Just because I talk to Miss Vareese in the library doesn't mean we're doing after hours research together. I talked to Miss Bronson yesterday. She's sixty if she's a day. I suppose I'm tumbling that, too."

"Okay, okay," Frazer paused at the door. "So I've been told. You ain't got a thing going with Tessa. That gives me clear road. I'll talk her into a jump if it takes me all summer."

"Rots of fuck."

Frazer departed talking to himself, not knowing any more when he left than when he'd come.

While behind, in his room, Baylor breathed a deep sigh of relief. Things were getting stickier all the time. If Dave had noticed him and Tessa in the library, then others must have noticed also. He'd have to cool things drastically, really watch his step from here on in.

Next thing he knew, Diane would be getting ideas, too.

Baylor stayed in his room late every afternoon the remainder of that week. Somehow hoping, entertaining the wildest of dreams. Praying that Patti would come back. That they could take up where they'd left off, that they could probe and understand the awesome miracle that had come to pass in their lives. Actually that was what he'd been doing the afternoon Dave Frazer barged in: Sitting on pins and needles, hoping against hope ... Patti...

But Wednesday and Thursday afternoons had passed. And nothing had happened. Patti hadn't appeared in class on Wednesday; a check in the office indicated her absent. On Thursday she'd been back. They'd barely dared to look at each other. Patti had made no response whatsoever during class discussion.

And now, on Friday afternoon, Baylor again sat in the empty, echoing building, his heart beating in dull, disappointed pulse. He fought to concentrate on the paper work before him but found it impossible. Countless times he looked up at his window when someone whisked by, his mind cringing before the intense desire to see Patti's frightened face framed in the glass. But always it was a lagging student or instructor, one of the hurrying custodians.

It was four-fifty. And on Friday night any school building in the land clears quickly. Teachers are hurrying off for the weekend, pupils are frantic to kick the school dust off their heels. Even the usually immovable janitors make like the Twentieth Century Limited on Fridays.

Now the building was. completely deserted. Five o'clock. There was no chance that Patti would come now. Still Ken couldn't make himself push up from his desk, leave the building. Still he kept hoping. Just a jew minutes more...

He turned in his chair to look at the gloomy day outside. Seemingly, in perfect complement to his mood, it had been a miserably gloomy week. Only Wednesday had been nice. Again he studied the lawns and trees he and Patti had found so beautiful the other afternoon. Today they were just lawns and trees, nothing more. He sighed heavily.

Suddenly he froze in his chair, he felt goose bumps tumble down his spine, pepper his arms and legs. He'd heard the soft snick behind him; he was positive he was now no longer alone in the classroom! Slowly, ever so slowly he turned in his chair.

His breathing stopped. It seemed all at once that someone had pierced his heart with a long sharp needle. For an instant his vision blurred, he actually wanted to sob with joy.

Patti Conte stood just inside the door, her face strained, a frightened, confused expression in her eyes.

"I was waiting in the girls' restroom," she said haltingly. "I wanted to be sure there was no one else in the building. I knew you were in your room. I came by at four-forty-five. I saw you sitting in here."

"Patti," he groaned, went toward her. He closed the door firmly. Then he was pulling her toward the back of the room, he was crowding her, still standing, into a corner where nobody could possibly see them.