Chapter 14
A WEEK LATER I WAS PACKING to leave. I had already crated my stereo components, records and books and had shipped them home. Only my clothes remained. A suitcase on my bed was piled high with shirts. A bundle of neckties hung over a chair. I was carefully folding a pair of slacks when I heard a knock at the door.
I stepped over a couple of suitcases to answer it. Alice Rawson stood on the landing. She said, "Hi."
I was genuinely surprised to see her. My involvement with Sandra had kept me from seeing much of her. I had heard she had been dating an upper-classman pretty steadily since Christmas. After my indiscretion with Professor Clinton's wife had become an open scandal, resulting in my being kicked out of school, I had expected her to wash her hands of me altogether.
Had she come to gloat about having correctly predicted my future?
We stood looking at each other. I felt embarrassed and rather foolish. I was ashamed to face her, I found.
"Can I come in, Mark?"
I nodded. "Yes. Things are in a mess. I'm packing."
Alice walked in. She glanced at my suitcase, then looked at me. An awkward silence followed. I wondered how she felt about the place where she had ceased to be a virgin. She had made a big deal of the occasion and maybe it had been.
Was that why she was here-for old times' sake? To take one last look down memory row? I felt anger. How square could you get?
She said, "So you're leaving."
"Somebody must have told you."
She rubbed her arms. She bit her hp, then murmured, "I'm truly sorry, Mark."
She sounded sincere. My annoyance waned with any guilt feelings. Alice was basically fine.
I shrugged.
"That's how the pill bounced. I don't really care. I never really did dig this college scene anyway."
She looked at me long and steadily.
"I think you care, Mark," she said. "I think you care very deeply about things-and that's why you're always trying to get hurt."
"You don't make sense," I growled. "You're taking your sophomore psychology course too seriously."
She shrugged. "Have it your way."
I went to the bed and fiddled with the trousers I had been trying to fold. I wanted Alice to leave and I wanted her to stay. It had been so between us from the beginning.
"I'm serious," I said, "I don't mind leaving this place. About the only nice thing I'll remember is you."
She said quietly, "Thank you, Mark. I feel good about having known you-that's why I had to come to say goodbye. I knew you wouldn't come to see me before you left. Are you going home?"
"Yes. And my old man is mad enough to bite nails. He called me up long distance and spent thirty minutes telling me how worthless I am. He has to be pretty sore to spring for a thirty-minute phone call."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, I'll have to go home and feel the family wrath. No way I can see to get out of it. Then the old man is shipping me to one of his chemical plants. He figures maybe a little physical work will be good for my soul."
"What about your schooling?"
I shrugged.
"I guess I blew that. It doesn't matter. The old man says I'll get a liberal education working my way up his lousy corporation."
"Couldn't you get out on your own and study what you want to study?"
"Maybe. I might still do that. Right now I'm not sure. I'll have a whirl at this job the old man has fixed up for me. To be perfectly frank-I'd welcome a little hard work for a while to get the cobwebs out of my mind. I guess I'm a hell of a host. I should offer you some refreshments." I went to the cupboard, found a bottle of whiskey and some glasses. "We might as well finish this."
We sat on the cluttered daybed and killed what was left of the whiskey, toasting the nice times we had known together, getting a little drunk and sentimental.
"How about this guy you've been dating? I hear you've been getting pretty thick with him."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"Do I detect a note of jealousy?"
"Could be."
Alice sighed.
"Dean's nice-that's his name, Dean Pike. I told myself I was going to get you out of my system. I promised myself I would fall in love with Dean. He's nice and steady and I think he wants to marry me. There's only one hitch. I'm not in love."
I sighed. "For your own good, marry him."
She leaned forward, put her hand on my arm. She looked tearful.
"Mark, I'm glad you had this liquor. I had some inhibitions to put down. They're down. Let's make love once more before you leave. I don't want to think about anything beyond right now."
We did as she suggested. We made love among my pile of shirts and ties and socks. Alice was lovely in more than flesh, I thought. She was also, I realized, fiercely strong. My need of her surprised me with its intensity. Her wholesome and simple sincerity enabled me to forget the ugly mess I had been through.
But the forgetfulness was temporary. After a while she was gone and I was packed. I locked the door of the apartment behind me for good.
I drove my battered car slowly through the streets of the small college town, leaving it all behind me.
My homecoming was unpleasant. My father promptly shipped me to the chemical plant to which he had assigned me. It was on the coast, less than a hundred miles from our old summer cottage.
I went to work doing exactly the kind of labor he had threatened me with-loading barges. I found I rather enjoyed sweating in the sun and working off some of my anger and frustration.
The thought that Nell lived a few hours' drive away kept chewing at me. At night when I flopped on my bed in my rented room, bone-weary from the day's work, I closed my eyes and saw her smiling mouth, felt her hair brush my cheek and remembered the great times we had known together.
One day I had suddenly had my fill of remembering. I simply walked off the job. I picked up what money I had in the bank-a couple of hundred dollars-threw a suitcase into my jalopy and drove out of town. My feelings were mixed-I was partly exhilarated, partly scared. This time I had really burned my bridges behind me.
But the only thing in my life that had made any sense at all up to now was Nell. No one else had accepted me as completely, no strings attached. Alice had tried to reform me. Sandra had used me to free herself from her own repressions.
I had to see Nell again. I seemed to be hooked on her like an addict to one particular brand of dope. In an undefinable-and perhaps unattainable-way she represented happiness to me.
As I drove along the coastal highway that morning, I saw the scrubby coastal trees, dwarfed and misshapen by the constant wind off the water. The grass was green with early spring. Wildflowers bloomed in the ditches along the road. I passed fields where cattle grazed. From time to time I saw wells with pumping machinery that looked like giant praying mantises, bobbing their heads up and down. Every twenty or thirty miles I would pass through a small coastal village-homes and stores clustered around waterfront docks and strips of beaches. Motels were strung all along the route. They ranged from white frame structures-where a trucker could get an overnight rest for two dollars-to ultra-modern tourist havens with swimming pools, cocktail lounges and social directors.
Ten miles from my destination I pulled into one of the luxury motels. I blew twenty dollars for accommodations for the night, bought a quart of whiskey from the motel's liquor store and locked myself in.
The place had class. The carpet nap was deep enough to wade in. The bed was king-size and if you dropped a quarter in a slot in the headboard it gave you a gentle massage. The room also featured color TV and real oil paintings on the wall. The furniture had the gleam of rich mahogany-the bathroom was dazzling with tile, chrome and glass.
There was a sensuous, almost lecherous elegance about the place. Everything from the whisper of the air conditioning to the subtle strains of piped-in music suggested a luxurious setting for clandestine love-a kind of twentieth century do-it-yourself sultan's palace for the night. The management furnished everything except the harem. I washed the day's heat and grime from myself under a stinging shower. As I was toweling myself briskly I noticed under the lavatory a hairpin that had been overlooked by the cleaning woman. The small symbol of a previous female occupant of this room gave me a restless feeling and started my imagination working overtime. A few hours ago-or possibly last night-the owner of that hairpin had perhaps taken a shower in this bathroom, as I had just done. What had she been like? I preferred to believe that she had been young and pretty.
Naked and bare-footed I padded across the lush carpet, poured some of the whiskey over ice, dropped a quarter into the slot in the bed's headboard. I flopped across the mattress and sipped my drink. The vibrating mechanism under me, like tingling, sensuous fingers, put small caresses through me.
I lay there for a while, sipping whiskey, listening to piped-in music, enjoying the massage and thinking of Woman. Inevitably she assumed the face and form of Nell.
I felt reckless. I picked up the telephone and put in a call to Nell. The time was three-thirty in the afternoon. I doubted Turner would be home.
Nell answered. I knew her voice at once. I reacted with a feeling of tingling joy that had nothing to do with the bed vibrator. I was suddenly happy, able to forget the ugly mess of the past weeks.
I said, "Hi, cousin."
I thought the line had gone dead.
Then Nell said, "Mark? Is that you, Mark Harris?"
I grinned. I was feeling right with the world again. "How many Marks do you know?" Nell's tinkling laughter came over the wire. "Mark-it's so good to hear from you. Where are you?" I gazed around the room. "The local upholstered house of assignation."
"What?"
I chuckled. "Private joke." Then I explained, "I'm at a motel about ten miles down the coast from you."
"What are you doing there? I thought you were at school."
"I got kicked out."
"What?" Her laughter faded. She sounded genuinely concerned. "Mark, what happened?"
"It's a long story. And past history." I drew a deep breath. Then I said, "Nell, I'd like to see you. I mean I really want to very much. I have a lot to tell you."
She hesitated.
Then: "Yes-of course, Mark. I want to see you, too. Can you come over tonight?"
"Nell, I don't want to come over there. I don't want to have to force myself to be pleasant to Fred. Can you meet me somewhere else? Can you come over here?"
"I don't know-"
"Please, Nell."
"Yes-all right, Mark. I do want to see you. I've missed you."
Excitement boiled through me.
"Can you come over this afternoon? It isn't very far-" I named the motel.
"I know the place," Nell said. "I'll be there in about an hour. What's your unit number?"
I gave it to her and we broke the connection quickly. I think she was suddenly as anxious to see me as I was to be with her.
I had put on a pair of shorts and slacks and made another drink. I spent the next hour impatiently prowling the room, drinking and smoking. I was too keyed-up at the thought of seeing Nell again to sit still.
Finally a soft tap came at my door. She had timed herself almost to the minute.
I opened the door. Nell entered, flushed and slightly out of breath. She had on skin-tight black stretch pants and a frilly peek-a-boo blouse. Her hair was longer than I remembered it. She still wore it casually but a touch of expensive artfulness had been added.
We faced each other. I drank in the sight of her. She seemed as eager to study me. For a moment we simply stood there. Then Nell rushed into my arms and hugged me.
"It's so good to see you, honey." She kissed me breathlessly. Then she stepped back again for a second look. Her eyes clouded. "You've lost weight, Mark. Have you been sick?"
"I've got no sickness I can take pills for. But I guess I'm sick of the general mess I'm in."
Her eyes grew warm with compassion.
"What do you mean, honey? Come here and sit down and tell Nell all about it."
She led me to the bed and we sat facing each other, our knees touching. She held both my hands.
"What's been happening, Mark?"
I asked accusingly, "Why didn't you write to me at all?"
She looked contrite.
"Don't fuss at me, Mark, honey. You know I'm just terrible about writing. I never write letters to anyone. Words on paper just don't sound right. I was gone most of last summer, you know. Fred took me on a long trip. It was exciting, Mark. I got to see Las Vegas and San Francisco-so many places I'd always dreamed about seeing. When we got back Mother said you'd gone. By then I knew the school term had started." With feminine irrelevance she asked, "How was Debbie's wedding? We got an invitation, you know. I sent her a gift but I couldn't go. I wanted to, but Fred couldn't leave his business and he didn't want me to go alone." I shrugged.
"The wedding was okay, I guess. If you like three-ring circuses."
"What did Debbie wear? I'll bet she was just beautiful. Oh, I wish I could have been there-"
"Damn it, Nell, I didn't get you over here to talk about Debbie's corny wedding."
Nell smiled.
"I'm sorry, Mark, honey. I guess men never will understand how women are about such things. Ail right, we won't talk about Debbie's wedding any more now. Some time I want you to tell me all about it though." She noticed the bottle on the dresser. "Could I have a drink, Mark?"
"Sure." I made drinks for both of us. "How are you and Fred getting along?"
A shadow seemed to pass over her. She said, "Oh, just fine-"
I figured she was lying. She was thinner, I suddenly noticed, and I saw a tense, wary expression around her eyes-the look of someone who is chronically frightened. My dislike of Fred Turner brought a taste of acid to my mouth. I washed it out with whiskey.
Nell said, "Now, Mark, I want you to tell me about the trouble you've been having. I want to know about everything that happened to you-and why you're down here."
I sat on the bed again and I told her. I omitted little. Nell was one person to whom I was able to talk freely. I was anything but proud of some of the scrapes I had been in but I felt Nell would understand.
She listened quietly, giving me her full attention.
"Poor Mark," she murmured finally. "Both of us seem to have done a good job of messing up our lives, haven't we?"
It was the first time she had openly admitted that she was unhappy with Fred Turner. I was surprised.
"You're miserable with Fred, aren't you? Are you afraid of him?"
Nell buried her face against my shoulder.
"Yes, Mark. I'm afraid-and sometimes I despise him. He can be a beast. Some of the things he makes me do-"
She shuddered. I held her fiercely.
"Leave him, Nell. Come with me."
She sighed.
"Oh, honey, I really want to. But not just yet. I'm too dependent on him-my whole family is dependent on him."
"I can take care of you," I said, angrily. "Nell, listen-"
She silenced my rash words with her fingers against my lips. She raised her face. It was inches from mine. I felt her warm breath against my cheeks.
"Honey, let's not talk about it right now. You have to give me a little time. I'm glad that you're here-so glad. You have to promise to see me often."
"That's why I came."
She looked at her watch, frowned.
"I don't have much time this afternoon. I'll have to be home in an hour."
We looked at each other and I felt the hunger surge between us.
I whispered huskily, "Nell, I want you."
She nodded.
Shakily she whispered, "I need you too, Mark. When you make love-things are the way they should be-" Suddenly she stood up. "We'll have to hurry. The next time we'll have longer."
I watched her walk to a chair. She stripped, keeping her back to me. She draped her clothes carefully over the chair. She turned to me, her eyes dark with excitement.
An excited flush highlighted her cheeks.
I was out of my slacks and shorts in an instant. Then Nell was in my arms and we made love.
And it was the first time all over again for me. To me she was always the beginning.