Rapture

by Thomas Tessier

  Finally Bonnie grabbed at his shoulders and clumsily pulled him up. Her whole body was slick, her face bathed in moisture, and her hair drenched. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but her fingers moved over his face like those of a blind person trying to read a mysterious script. After they hugged and stroked each other for a few moments, Jeff rolled her over onto her belly so that he could rest his head in the small of her back. He wanted to see nothing but the perfect curve of her bottom, which he encompassed with one arm across the top of her thighs.

  It was nearly eight in the evening when they stumbled into the shower and washed each other thoroughly. Jeff got out first, dried himself, brushed his damp hair back, and dressed. He took the elevator down to the ground floor, where he bought an inexpensive hair drier in the drugstore. When he returned to his room, he found Bonnie standing by the bed, combing snarls out of her hair. His first thought was how wonderful it would be to have her around the house, nude, all the time. She was an astonishing creature. He tossed the carton containing the hair drier onto the bed.

  "A little present for you."

  "Oh, fantastic. Thank you."

  He went to her, took her in his arms, and ran his hands down her backside. It was like holding the warm, glowing fire of life itself, he thought happily.

  "You look and smell and feel like heaven."

  "Mmm ..."

  Bonnie went into the bathroom and dried her hair, and when she came out a few minutes later, she called her roommate. She was on the telephone for about five minutes. Jeff was pleased with the way she handled the situation. He stood right behind her, running his hands up and down the front of her body while she chatted casually, resting her head back on his shoulder. Bonnie was like some amazing toy he had picked up in a magic shop, so remarkable that even after you'd played with it for hours you still wanted to look at it and fondle it lovingly.

  "What about your mother?"

  "Yeah, I should do that now too."

  While Bonnie talked to Georgianne, Jeff moved away and lit a cigarette. He would have loved to kiss and touch the girl at that moment, and catch the sound of Georgianne's voice, but just the thought of doing it made him tremble, and he was afraid his body would betray him in some way to Bonnie. She told her mother, as she had her roommate, that she would be out with friends for most of the weekend, not to expect to find her in, that she would call again. Bonnie kept it vague, but she sounded so casual and convincing that no serious questions were asked. Jeff, watching her from the armchair across the room, admired what he saw. She was cool, she could deal with a delicate situation, and in a few years she'd probably be able to get people to do whatever she wanted. She showed more potential than Georgianne ever had, but he knew he was looking for something else. In the long run, Bonnie might well prove to be too much to handle. Georgianne was the dream, a promise of love secure and solid.

  "Are we going anywhere tonight?" she asked after hanging up.

  "Sure. Let's go out and get something to eat," he replied. "I'm starved."

  "Okay, great. Now let me just see what I can come up with here. Don't panic."

  Jeff smiled but said nothing. He took another sip of malt and watched. Bonnie pulled on her panties and black jeans, then a clean pair of Jeffs socks and her boots. She found the one white shirt he'd bothered to bring and put it on, rolling the sleeves up over her wrists. She tucked it in her jeans and left the top four buttons unfastened. Then she took his off-white linen jacket from the closet and tried it on. The sleeves were again too long, but she carefully folded them back, forming neat cuffs. Finally she arranged her scarf so that it looked like an explosion of silk and color erupting from the breast pocket of the jacket. She grabbed her handbag and went into the bathroom to apply some make-up. When she returned, Jeff noticed the faint lavender lipstick and the blue shading around her eyes.

  "Well?"

  "Fantastic," he told her. "You look better in my clothes than I do."

  "No offense, but I should hope so."

  They took a taxi into downtown Boston and wandered around the streets for a while, enjoying the cool night air. They ate in an Italian restaurant, talking about college and Bonnie's future. Jeff painted a glamorous picture of high-tech work in Southern California, telling her of the endless possibilities, the generous pay, and how important it was to get some practical experience. He didn't want her to think she had to stay on at Harvard until she had her master's degree and doctorate.

  After dinner they walked until they came upon a place called the Seafront, a night club that featured a good jazz quartet. No one questioned Bonnie's age. They drank through two sets of music. Then she tried to persuade Jeff to take her to one of the strip bars in the Combat Zone.

  "I want to see what they're like," she explained over an elegant saxophone solo. "I'd be safe with you."

  Safe. The word seemed to echo in the back of Jeff's mind, but he wasn't sure why. He liked Bonnie's sense of curiosity, though, and her trust in him.

  "I've been in those kinds of places," he said dismissively, a man of the world. "They're full of lonely men, tourists, and other stray suckers."

  Bonnie looked as if she were about to answer that, but she stifled it beneath an odd smile.

  Back in the hotel room later, they took their clothes off, got under the covers, and watched a made-fortelevision movie about cloning. Rock Hudson created Barbara Carerra in his laboratory and then had to ex plain the twentieth century to her. It wasn't easy. Why bother? Jeffs mind drifted. He was trying to understand something about sex. Time was the extra, invisible ingredient. Sex was one way Bonnie forged ahead with her life, seizing her future and making it the present. But for Jeff it seemed to be all about the past, his way of driving back through the years toward some lost, incomplete version of himself. When he made love to Bonnie, wasn't he also making love to Georgianne? Or was he really just trying to penetrate a ghost that existed only in the spirit world of his own mind? Could Georgianne ever be as good as he hoped and dreamed? That was the cruelest question of all. Before he fell asleep, he tried to plan how he would talk to Bonnie about her mother. There had to be a right way. He had a crucial opportunity in the palm of his hand, but he also knew that time was working against him-and his ghost.

  In the morning, Jeff and Bonnie walked to a diner for breakfast and then strolled along the Charles watching four- and eight-man shells streak downriver. She put her arm through his and they walked slowly, close together, like lovers. She mentioned her father almost accidentally, in reference to something else, and Jeff did not respond. A moment later she stopped and looked at him.

  "What do you think about my father's murder, Jeff?" she asked. "What do you really think?"

  It was a clear, bright morning, but there was a brisk breeze coming off the Charles. She was watching him with curiosity and interest, he thought, rather than with any real suspicion. He felt safe and unworried, and although he didn't care for the subject, he hoped he could use it to reassure Bonnie in some way. Especially about himself.

  "It was mistaken identity," he said.

  "Do you have any doubts about that?"

  "Not really. Do you?"

  "Sometimes I wonder if ..."

  "If it was someone your father knew?"

  "Yes."

  Jeff took his time cupping his hands and lighting a cigarette, then tossing the match aside before speaking.

  "Of course that's a possibility," he allowed reasonably. "But then you have to look for a motive. Who were your father's enemies-that kind of thing. And from what I understand, your mother and you and the police couldn't think of any reason why someone would have wanted to ... do that. It's been quite a while now. Mistaken identity isn't nice. It's absurd, when you think about it. But it also makes a kind of sense. What else could it be? I thought you said yesterday that you did think it was mistaken identity. But obviously you don't. Okay, what do you suggest instead?"

  He hadn't expected to say so much, but now he was pleased. The words had come natur
ally, and he could feel the confidence growing within him as he spoke. How long would it take to bury Sean, for Chrissake? It seemed to work, because Bonnie looked less sure of herself.

  "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't have any thing ... not really, I guess. It's the not knowing that hurts.'

  But you do know, if you let yourself," he said obscurely. 'It's hard, but it's the acceptance of death."

  Too much, he thought immediately. She can't handle that yet. Still, it was good to get it said. Sooner or later she would realize he was right. For now, Bonnie had fallen silent and had a distant look on her face. She started walking again. Jeff kept up with her.

  "Hey, are you all right?" he asked, patting her back gently.

  `Yeah, sure." She pushed across a smile. "You know what I'd really like though? A change of clothes."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jeff cashed a few more traveler's checks, and they spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in downtown Boston. They walked from the Common to Faneuil Hall Marketplace and browsed leisurely from shop to shop, buying slices of pizza, cookies, and ice cream as they went. Jeff liked being out with Bonnie, and he felt safely anonymous in the crowds that thronged the Marketplace.

  Later they toured the Computer Museum on Congress Street, near the waterfront. Bonnie seemed to enjoy it, which pleased Jeff, because it had been his idea and she'd been reluctant at first, hoping for something more exciting. As they came back past South Station, he babbled on about supercomputers, and she asked some intelligent questions. If I had the time, he thought, and I wanted to make a special project of it, I could get her out of biology and into advanced computer science for sure. Bonnie was raw talent, and a lot of it, just waiting to be developed. It was something to think about-if other things didn't work out right.

  They wandered through Chinatown. Bonnie seemed to be steering them in a certain direction, and a few minutes later she stopped.

  "Know where you are?" she asked.

  "Sure. Chinatown."

  "Anything else?"

  "I give up. What?"

  "Wang," Bonnie said, pointing to a large white building a block away. Yesterday's smirk was back on her face.

  "Oh yeah," Jeff muttered. "So it is. Actually, that's the back of it, or the side. When I went there the other day, a taxi dropped me off in front, and I called for another cab when I was ready to leave, so . . ." He was aware that he was trying too hard to explain his lack of recognition, and shut his mouth.

  "Of course," Bonnie said.

  They resumed walking, and a few minutes later they came out onto Washington Street, which seemed to be lined with strip clubs, dingy bars, sex shops, and X-rated movies. The sidewalks were crowded with hustlers, pimps, hookers, tourists, the curious, the lonely, and the lost.

  "The Combat Zone, I presume," Jeff said.

  "That's right. Want to take in a show?"

  'No thanks.'

  "We could, you know. We'd get away with it."

  "I thought you wanted to get some clothes," he reminded her, and made a point of studying his watch.

  "You're right," she said reluctantly. "I don't know how early the stores close on Saturday. We better get over to Filene's." But she dawdled a moment more in front of a window display. "Any of those girls look better than me?" she asked. "What do you think?"

  "No, none of them," Jeff replied with an indulgent smile. "Come on, now."

  When they got to Filene's, Jeff slipped a small wad of money into Bonnie's hand and told her to put it in her pocket discreetly.

  "I'll wait out here for you," he went on, sitting down on a bench in the pedestrian walkway. "Get whatever you want, but don't wave that cash around or make a big deal about it. Don't draw attention to yourself."

  "I know, I know. Secret mission. Hush hush. You sure you want to wait here?"

  "Why? How long will you be-fifteen minutes?"

  "Are you kidding? Come on, Jeff, give me time to look around a bit. How about an hour? You can come with me."

  He sighed. "All right, I'll meet you here at four. That's almost an hour. In the meantime, I'm going to find a cold drink. Okay?"

  "Four o'clock. Right here. Great."

  Bonnie stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Then she hurried into the department store while he set off in search of a quiet bar. Over two icy bottles of Stella Artois, Jeff wondered what Georgianne would think if she knew he had just given Bonnie two hundred dollars to spend on clothes. She'd be outraged. She'd think he was treating the girl like a whore. Was he? It bothered him, now that he thought about it. A mistress, maybe, but then, what was a mistress but a glorified whore. One way or another, he was paying for Bonnie's favors-with food, drinks, a visit to a jazz club, and additions to her wardrobe. It was a hell of a situation, but he wondered if it would really be that different if they spent the entire weekend in the hotel room. The money didn't matter, ultimately, he told himself. The first time he'd fucked Bonnie he was ruined in Georgianne's eyes-if she ever heard about it. That was the main fact, and everything that had happened since was essentially irrelevant. It still came down to this: everything depended on Bonnie's discretion. Georgianne must never know about this weekend, or even that Jeff had been in touch with Bonnie at all.

  The plan still held, roughly. Tonight he would take her out to dinner again. He would begin to speak frankly to her about Georgianne. Not too much, just enough to get her mind working on it. Then they'd go to a night club, drink, maybe dance some, have a good time. He'd keep her distracted and happy while her mind adjusted to the idea he'd planted. And tomorrow they'd take the discussion the rest of the way, as far as it would go.

  That was about all Jeff could think to do, and it seemed reasonable enough. But he didn't look forward to it at all. He would be at Bonnie's mercy, and that prospect filled him with dread. It would be worse than falling on his knees before Georgianne herself. How on earth do you spend a dirty weekend with a teenager and at the same time tell her you really love her mother? He had no idea what kids were like today. Even after spending one night with Bonnie, he couldn't begin to guess how she would react. She might surprise him and take it in stride. Or she might not ... In the wake of his intimacy with her, Bonnie might decide he was a pretty poor candidate for Georgianne, that his professed feelings for her mother couldn't possibly be true. If he'd go to bed with me, Bonnie might think, how reliable and faithful would he be as a husband?

  Bonnie had said she thought Jeff "had a thing" for Georgianne, but that didn't necessarily count for much. She might still be surprised or even shocked to hear him admit it was true. Perhaps he should have admitted it then, when Bonnie had made that remark. If he had, she might not have taken her shirt off and jumped him, and the whole situation would be much more in his favor now. But this was tricky ground to explore, because he was far from sure that he hadn't hoped all along to get Bonnie into bed at some point. In any case, it's.all futile speculation, he decided as he left the bar. He had no real choice but to carry on, take his chances with Bonnie, and hope for the best.

  If Jeff was subdued when he met her outside Fi- lene's, Bonnie didn't appear to notice. She was carrying a large shopping bag containing two or three parcels and she looked very happy. She grabbed Jeffs arm and gave him a half-hug.

  "Do you know how much money you put in my hand?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

  "Sure."

  "And did you mean I could spend it all?'

  "Sure."

  Bonnie shook her head as if she found it hard to believe. "Well, I didn't," she said. "Not quite. But I did get a couple of nice things."

  'Good."

  Back in the hotel lobby, Bonnie asked Jeff for the room key and told him to wait downstairs for about twenty minutes-she had bought something special to wear just for him. Jeff got a newspaper and sipped a Scotch-and-water in the cocktail lounge. He gave her half an hour and then went up to the room.

  Bonnie had drawn the drapes. The place was only dimly illuminated
by the little bit of late-afternoon light that filtered in around the edges. She sat on the. bed waiting for him, one leg dangling toward the floor, the other curled under her. She wore some kind of corset affair and thigh-high stockings. She had a ribbon tied around her throat. There was something about the way she held herself there, the way her hair was brushed or the way she looked up at him, like a child hoping for approval, that reminded him of a picture pose in a Combat Zone window display or ... something about Diane. It was how Bonnie thought she should look to appear sexy and sinful. The effect wasn't as natural or as exciting as the day before, when she'd simply peeled off her T-shirt, but he liked it, and he appreciated the effort. He started to say something, but the words wouldn't come, and he had to clear his throat, which pleased Bonnie, who thought she'd knocked him speechless.

  "It's called crystal gray," she said softly, running a hand across her outfit. "Do you like it?"

  "You're beautiful, very beautiful," he told her as he went and stood beside the bed. "Undress me ..."

  They were in the middle of coitus when Jeff opened his eyes and saw Bonnie watching him. She was smiling sweetly, but beyond that was a look of curious, almost detached interest. It confused him momentarily, and he slowed the rhythm of his movements.

  "Are you thinking of my mother?"

  Her voice was a ghost of a whisper. He couldn't answer, nor could he control the emotions that transformed his face and froze his body.

  "It's all right," she murmured gently. "It's all right."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The sea was crusted with whitecaps, the sand was still hard-packed from winter, and the sky was uniformly gray. A sharp breeze licked in off the water, swept along the shore, and then died, only to reappear a few minutes later. It was Sunday afternoon, and the weather had turned. It wasn't really cold, but brisk and invigorating or chilly and raw, according to taste.