He waited impatiently in the cab of his truck and when mother and child didn't return after two hours, he hauled the bag of groceries through the emergency room door and inquired about them. A tired looking nurse directed him to the elevator, fourth floor, room two twenty-two.
Jasmine Teal was sitting beside the bed with her eyes closed, her small hands folded in prayer. The room was cold and the low light made it difficult for Wayne St. Pierre to see. After he blinked and squinted several times, he peered through the transparent walls of the oxygen tent and gasped at what he saw. The child's head, wrapped in a mile of gauze, was the size of a basketball. He looked away and cleared his throat. He shifted the load in his arms and the crinkling of the paper bag startled her. When she looked up, he said, “I brought your groceries. I can't stay. I have to go. I'm really sorry. I have to go now.”
She stared at him through a curtain of tears.
“I'd really like to see you again,” he said.
With red-eyed rage, the woman screamed, “Get out! Get out, you!”
He walked out of the room. A nurse entered the elevator ahead of him. Her countenance was soft and sympathetic, his was shock. When the door closed he looked up at the ceiling, then at the nurse. “She could have thanked me for the groceries,” he said.
B.J. DALLET HAD BEEN AROUND enough snakes in her life to know what kind Wayne St. Pierre was. She knew because every time he had made a pass at her, he gave himself away. His rattlers were anything but subtle.
“Haven't I seen you on campus before?” he asked her the second month she entered his gate. “I could swear I've seen you on Fifth Avenue.”
“It's possible,” she answered. “But my office is on Forbes.”
“Maybe that's where I saw you.”
“Do you attend the university?” she asked.
“No. Not me. I go over there once in a while just to walk around and take in the scenery. I've been all through the Cathedral of Learning. That's some building.”
“Isn't the architecture breathtaking? I often teach my classes in the Early American room.”
“Maybe we'll run into each other over there one day,” he said.
“Maybe,” she answered. “You never know.”
Several months later he was checking her tote bag one evening when he brought up the subject of her car. “I sure do like that sweet little Mazda you drive. I'm thinking about getting one myself. I imagine it gets good mileage.”
“Oh yes,” she said, steadying her eyes on his, smiling genuinely. “Much better than that gas guzzler my husband drives. An Imperial.”
She saw him staring at the finger where her wedding band should have been.
“I didn't know you were married.”
“Well, sometimes I have to remind myself of that very fact. I've been married for thirty years.” She laughed. He laughed harder. She slid her hip to the side as she reached for her bags. Waving the fingers of her left hand at him, she said, “I take off my rings at night when I bathe. If I don't they slide off my fingers. Plumbers are expensive, you know?”
“Your husband's a lucky man,” Wayne St. Pierre said. “You're a very attractive lady.”
“Why thank you.” She hooked her tote bag over her shoulder. “You have a nice evening, Officer St. Pierre.”
“Call me Wayne.”
“Okay, Wayne. Call me B.J.”
The next time she came he said, “How are you this evening, B.J.? Nice dress.”
She was wearing a burgundy dress with a two-inch wide patent leather belt that accentuated her shapely hips and flat stomach. She wore black high heels.
“Thank you, Wayne.”
He looked at her left hand, now a ritual. No rings. “You look stunning in it, woman. But you'd look that way if you were dressed in a burlap sack.”
She laughed.
“You ever been boating, B.J.?”
“Years ago. My brother Mickey had a speedboat he kept docked at a North Side pier right up the street from here. Back in the early seventies. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I just bought a new boat myself. I'd love to take you out for a ride sometime.”
She looked at him regretfully. “That's sweet, Wayne, but I really can't.”
He leaned into her. “Let me tell you a secret. I'm married too.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned.
“Oh.” She acted surprised. “It's nice of you to offer, but I can't. I really can't. I'm old-fashioned, Wayne. But I'm flattered, I really am.”
“Well, you can't blame a man for trying.” He smiled lightly at her.
For two years she placated his ego with her friendly gestures and innocent flirtations. Her singular goal had been to instill within him the notion that things might have been different between them if it weren't for the fact that she was happily married. And she thought he believed her. She had bought him issues of Boating Illustrated and homemade jars of honey she purchased for him in the Amish country. She had single-handedly milked the venom right out of this rattlesnake.
Or so she thought.
Six months into her third year she stood at the counter waiting for him to check her bags. She looked as glamorous as ever, but there was no greeting, not even the slightest eye contact.
“Here to tutor that lifer again?” he said, removing the contents from her bag. Books. Tablets. Pens.
She didn't know what to say. A moment of silence and he added, “I don't know why you professors waste your time. Those lifers are never getting out, you know? This new governor is putting a stop to that.”
She was shocked. “Well, Wayne. His mind can certainly be free. And he is making a genuine contribution to society. He's writing a book, too, you know?”
He moved his finger like a windshield wiper. “You're not allowed to take anything that belongs to him out of this institution. That's against policy. No legal documents, no letters, no manuscripts.”
“I understand. But I am allowed to take his class assignments with me. I have since I started. How else can I evaluate his work?”
“They need to be inspected each time.”
“I'm confused, Wayne. What's going on?”
He looked at her for the first time that evening. “Well, Dr. Dallet, you may not know this, but those lifers are dangerous criminals. We know their angles.”
AND SHE KNEW HIS. No way was a disgruntled prurient going to distract her from savoring the whipped cream that had been missing from her bowl-of-cherries life for so long. Now that she had someone who was, all in one, a protege, friend, confidante, playmate and simply there, she gloated to her boon companions, Shirley and Alice, who had been hearing about Oliver's intellectual prowess for two years now. They had been more than impressed. Now, when she told them about the love affair they were having and that he was twenty-five years her junior, their mouths dropped open so wide you could have fit a peach inside.
Shirley, who was a plump fifty and having an affair of her own with a younger man, said, “My God, he's practically a baby.”
“He's no baby, honey!” B.J. said. “He's a stud.”
Alice added, “Just think, B.J., all these years you've been sweating in the spa to keep your tummy flat and your muscles toned and now look at you! You're beaming like a schoolgirl. Can you keep up with him?”
“Hardly, girlfriend. I have love bites in places you wouldn't imagine.”
Alice and Shirley wanted to know every detail of the first time they had made love.
“Let me be clear. He didn't make the first move until long after we had acquired a great mutual admiration for one another,” she said. “And long after he had finished his courses I was responsible for teaching him.”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Well, one evening while we were sitting together in his office having a discussion about what I don't recall, I felt his calf rested against mine. I didn't think anything of it except that it felt familiar, you know? As warm as toast. Anyway, I was sure he was testing the waters wh
en he moved his leg away and then pressed it even closer back against mine. I didn't move a muscle. I went right on talking. Then he did the sweetest thing. He slid a note in front of me that said, 'I'm dying for you to hold me in your arms.'”
“No, he didn't! What a risk taker,” Shirley said.
“He has his own office?” Alice asked. “What kind of prison is that?”
“Yes, he did. And Alice, you wouldn't believe the place. On the outside it's a fortress. On the inside it looks just like any other education department, nothing but classrooms and offices. And wait until you hear this. There's only one guard in the entire education building and he stays downstairs manning the door. Oliver has his own classroom and his own office because he's a gifted teacher and worker.”
“One guard? You're kidding!” said Alice. “Okay! Go on!”
“So he slid this note in front of me, and I scribbled 'go for it!' on the bottom and slid it back to him. That's how it all started.”
“What happened after you held him, hon?” asked Shirley. “Did you rock him to sleep?”
“You did hold him, didn't you?” asked Alice.
“We held each other. And then we squeezed each other a little tighter until I could feel his prick throbbing against my thigh. He had his long arms wrapped around my waist and without saying a word we looked into each other's eyes and he kissed me. He kissed me like I've never been kissed before. It was so gentle and so passionate. Then he stopped and I was terrified.”
“Well, don't stop there, girlfriend! What did he do that terrified you?”
“He picked me up and sat me on the edge of his desk. Oh, God, the intensity in those green eyes of his, coupled with that strange environment and my lack of experience, you know, frightened the living hell out of me. Then he told me to lie across the desk and when I did, he went under my skirt and slid my hose and panties off my waist. Well, I almost wet myself. I don't have to tell either of you how long it had been since I'd had a man between my legs. My whole body turned to jelly. I couldn't have stopped him if I'd wanted to. And then, when he got on his knees and became my very own Valentino, I wasn't afraid any more.”
“I guess you weren't, honey. That's the most romantic thing I have ever heard,” said Shirley. “You are one lucky lady. My lover hasn't discovered what his knees are for yet.”
“That man-child of hers is the one who's lucky!” said Alice.
Of course they wanted to know all there was to know so she told them more. How every Saturday morning since their affair began she had gone on shopping sprees for new lingerie. She now owned silk panties and garters in just about every color under the rainbow. Dozens of pairs of thigh-high stockings, lace bras that opened in the front and teddies she couldn't wear any more because he had destroyed the hooks trying to open them. She told them how nefariously thrilling it felt to walk through the front gate of a maximum security prison every week dressed in Victoria's Secret and black velvet high heels, only to be waved through by a guard who had befriended her the first time she came; how her anus puckered up every time she strolled across the courtyard filled with muscle bound men and into the private office of her handsome young murderer, all the while thinking that the volume of her heart was up way too loud.
There were plenty of things she didn't tell them, too. Like how delicious and exciting it was to make love in a dark room right next to a window where even on the darkest nights she could lean her head back and see, just fifty feet away, the armed guard pacing inside his red gun tower. And how being with him once, sometimes twice, a week now just wasn't enough. She was touching herself every time she found a private moment. In the ladies' room. At the water fountain. Sitting at her desk. She was fifty-five doing a thirty year old man who had been incarcerated since he was a boy. That was enough to make any woman twitch and look out the window every morning. He had awakened cravings in her that were equal to his own and his were endless. Not only did she want him; she needed him.
And the beauty of it all was that he was easy to love. She lined up his professors, he impressed them with his hard work. She lived for the hours she could be with him each week, he made it all worthwhile when she got there. And on only two occasions did she ever have to reprimand him. Once when he was feasting on her nipples, he looked up and whispered, “Does that feel good, Mommy?” She didn't interrupt their lovemaking, but later told him she wasn't his mother and please don't call her that again. He was hypersensitive to begin with and his feelings were naturally hurt. He knew what she was thinking, he said, but he didn't mean anything like that. She assured him everything was okay. The second time was when he had tried to penetrate her anus. Like trying to push a flashlight through a keyhole. It was just too painful.
But it wasn't just the way he had brought to life nerve endings she didn't know she had that compelled her to love him. The pure youthful innocence he exuded was both genuine and contagious. He was full of love and mischief when he laughed and teased her and that too filled her with happiness. Every time she thought of him her heart pounded like a drum. He made her feel seventeen again.
“You truly are the luckiest girl in the world, B.J., honey!” Shirley said.
“I suppose she is,” said Alice. “But what about him? He would be twiddling his thumbs if it weren't for her. He has it all. He has his cake, and he's eating it too.”
chapter eleven
OLIVER KNEW THE DAY was going to be prosperous when the one person he loved more than anyone in the world showed up to see him before the visiting room guard had gotten comfortable in his seat. June Priddy got to him before he could hand his pass to the guard and turn around. “There you are!” she said, spreading her arms. He entered them for a long, swaying hug. When he let go, he handed his pass to the guard and turned to gaze at his mother. “Look at you!” June said. “You get more handsome by the day. Oliver, this is my husband Joe, Joe Michael.”
“Hello, Oliver. It's nice to finally meet you,” the man said. “I'm sorry we haven't made it up to see you sooner.”
“That's okay. How're you doing, Joe?” Oliver smiled at the handsome man, thinking that he looked more like a professional golfer than a television producer. His golden hair and deep tan reminded Oliver of Jack Nicholas.
Oliver hugged his sister Anna and then said, “Come here, kid!” He bear hugged his younger brother Huck and when he let go, he tousled Huck's neatly combed hair. Huck wrestled to remove Oliver's hand and smiled impishly. “Ollie, you want anything?” Huck asked before they sat down. “A soda? Something to eat?” Oliver said no.
“First things first,” June said. “We can't stay long. Joe goes back to work tomorrow. We've been traveling through New England for two straight weeks. Skip couldn't come this time. He had to work.” She paused and smiled uncomfortably before she went on. “Now, Oliver, I hate to put you through this.” Her glance swept across her two boys and Anna.
“Oh, Momma. I'll tell him. Oliver, we talked to your lawyer,” said Anna. “The news isn't good. He said the timing couldn't be worse. Apparently, you haven't served enough time yet and on top of that, he said the new governor doesn't believe in parole for lifers. You may have to wait up to eight more years to apply for your pardon.” Anna moved to the edge of her chair and cleaned her fingernails of Fritos dust. Oliver put his arm around his mother's shoulder.
“This is just terrible,” June said. She leaned forward and swung her foot.
“Not really, Momma,” Oliver said, trying to reassure her. “It's not like I don't have a million things to do. I've got a lot of responsibilities in this place. My boss, a bunch of college professors and all kinds of students depend on me for one reason or another.”
“Oh, we know. When your Dr. Dallet came to dinner she couldn't stop talking about you. You're going to be a college professor someday. We're so proud of you, Oliver. She asked me a thousand questions about your childhood. Is she a psychiatrist?”
“No, ma'am, but I hope you made a good impression on her anyway.”
&nb
sp; “Of course we did. I even invited her to come back the next day. She couldn't though. She was giving some kind of speech at the conference she was in town for. But she did call me that next night and we talked for over an hour.” June widened her eyes. “That woman thinks very highly of you, Oliver.”
“How's your girlfriend, Ollie? I got the pictures you sent.”
“She's fine, I guess, Huck. She just moved to California to attend graduate school.”
June held her forehead in the palm of her hand, then looked up. “Does that mean you're all alone, son?”
“Not me, Momma. I have a new girlfriend.”
June smiled and smoothed Oliver's collar down.
“Oliver, there's one other thing,” said Anna. “That lawyer can't represent you without knowing why you did what you did.”
Oliver looked perturbed. “He said that?”
“Yes. He said the pardons board is going to want to know your side of the story.”
“All right, Anna. So what's your point?”
“Why don't you explain to us what happened? We're your family, for God's sake. Don't you think you owe us an explanation?”
“There's nothing to explain, Anna. My life was threatened, and I had to put an end to the threat. I had to defend myself. That's what happened. Now you tell that lawyer if he wants more details than that, he can ask me himself.”
They didn't speak for a while but later, when Oliver followed his brother to the candy machine, Huck said, “Anna keeps telling everyone your temper got the best of you and that's why you're here.”
Oliver said matter-of-factly, “She doesn't know what she's talking about, kiddo.”
Huck gave Oliver a worried glance. Not nervous, just worried. ”What's it like in here, Oliver? Momma said it's like you're away at college.”
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