by P. C. Zick
When Gary and I did get together during our busy senior year, we mostly talked about the future. I decided I wanted to go to Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti. It had one of the state's best teacher preparation programs. I knew I really wanted to be a writer, but I was realistic enough to know I would need to do something else to support myself. By default, I pursued an English degree in secondary education. I had already applied for a few scholarships and planned on working. Unlike Gary, I had to figure out a way to pay for my education. And if I stayed in Ypsilanti, I could still live at home and at least spare myself the expense of a dorm.
On the other hand, Gary wanted to leave the area as soon as possible. His father's attacks became more and more vicious after my triumph in football. Gary really did need to get away from him. Claire's intervention between father and son sometimes made things worse so she began to encourage Gary's desire to leave home for college.
He decided to pursue criminal justice, and with luck, he hoped to attend law school. His father had no use for a career in law, probably for the simple reason that Gary wanted to pursue it. When his acceptance to Michigan State came, Gary decided East Lansing was far enough away, yet close enough to come home when he wanted to see his mother and me.
My feelings for Sally began to change within a few months of our first sexual encounter. I found myself only wanting to be with her if I knew we could be intimate. She thought we would marry as soon as we graduated from college. It became apparent to me that I had to break it off with Sally before she left for college, but I dreaded the encounter. She was what we called a "good girl" in those days, and she only gave into my pressure because I made vague promises to her during the heat of my passion.
She bored me intellectually so conversations were limited. She didn't want to talk about ideas, except if they had to do with setting up house in four years. She talked endlessly about the style of houses, color of paint, thickness of carpets, and type of appliances. At eighteen, none of these things remotely interested me. In fact, whenever she started her litany of things she wanted when we married, I felt as if a noose dropped around my neck, and with each mention of her list, the rope tightened.
Sally was going to Northern Michigan University in Marquette, 400 miles away in the Upper Peninsula or U.P., as any true Michigander would say. In my teenage mind, having a girlfriend so far away was intolerable. If she went to a school nearby, we would at least have our sexual relationship to enjoy, but the combination of her uninteresting personality and no sex held no appeal for me. And I was beginning to feel like a cad for only wanting her for sex. Even through the fog of my intense hormones, I knew I wasn't being fair to her. And I didn't even think about the possibility of seeing other girls while she still wore my ring.
I didn't need to worry for very long. One night, just before leaving for Marquette, Sally made a remark about how far away she would be. Much to my surprise, she gave me a reprieve.
"You know, Eddie, I'm going to be awfully lonely up in the U.P.," she began.
"It's a long way, that's for sure," I said.
"You probably won't be able to visit, and I won't be able to come home except at Christmas."
"That's true."
"I've been thinking, Eddie, honey. You know that I want to join a sorority, and there will be lots of dances and socials, and I’d hate to go to those things by myself." Her voice began rising to that high-pitched resonance I had begun to hate.
"I agree, Sal."
"What do you mean?"
"I agree that you shouldn't go to those things by yourself."
"So, are you saying, I should date other boys?" She turned to look at me.
"I would hate it, but I think it would only be fair to you. I'll manage, but it will be difficult."
"Oh, Eddie, I knew you'd understand! When I come home for Christmas, we can see how we feel about one another. You're really the only one I love, but I couldn't stand being home all alone on a Saturday night when everybody else is out having a good time."
"I wouldn't want you to sit home alone, Sally."
I listened to her go on and on about the new social life she would have and wondered how I ever thought I could marry this girl who was rambling on about what color she should wear to the first formal dance. At least, she wasn't decorating our house any more.
"How about one last fling before you go off?" I nuzzled her ear. I would do anything to get her to shut up.
"Oh, Eddie, I'd love to, but you know now that we're not going steady, we can't do that anymore. I'm going back to being a virgin," she said as she began unraveling the Angora wrapped tightly around my class ring.
"It doesn't work like that, Sal. And just one more time, who would know?"
"It will work like that for me, and I would know. I just can't, Eddie."
"OK, OK, I'll take you home." I put the car in gear and slowly backed out of our private parking space off Carpenter Road.
That summer I worked at Nick's, the student hangout across the street from EMU. The place had pool tables, pinball machines, and a jukebox. They served sandwiches and beer. I loved the atmosphere, and when it wasn't busy, I met people who had interesting life stories and some who didn't. But every night I would rush home and fill my notebooks with pages of stories about these characters that just happened into Nick's after their summer school classes.
One night in late August, Gary and a group of his friends from Pioneer High School decided to meet at Nick's for a farewell party before they all left for college. Gary and I hadn't seen much of one another since I had started working. Within a few weeks, he would be going off to East Lansing, and I knew he wouldn't be home much after that.
"Hey, Cuz, how goes it? You know just about everyone, right?" Gary asked when I came over to the table.
"Hey, everyone," I said. Luckily, it was a slow Wednesday night, so I sat at the table for a few minutes.
I did know everyone sitting there except for the girl at the end of the table. When I looked down at her, I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. She smiled slowly.
"Do you know Allison?" Gary asked. "She just started at old Pioneer last semester, and graduated with us in June."
"No, I-I-I..." I said.
"Nice to meet you, Ed," she said so quietly I had to lean closer to hear. She casually brought a hand to her softly curled brown hair to brush it back away from her perfect face.
Later, after my boss let me off for the night, I pulled a chair up next to Allison and even managed to speak.
"Where will you be going to school?" I asked.
"Right across the street! How about you?"
"Me, too," I answered, happy that this wouldn't be the last time I would see her.
"Great! I know someone! My family moved here in January from Chicago. My dad's company transferred him. Can you believe it? In the middle of my senior year!"
"What's your major?"
"I'm interested in philosophy and world religions, but my dad won't tolerate a major in either of those areas. In fact, I'm only allowed to major in education, and then choose an acceptable field for teaching. And you?"
It took me a minute to answer. A girl who was interested in philosophy and talked like an angel and looked like a brunette version of Sandra Dee? Unbelievable.
"I want to be a writer, but figured I better get a teaching degree first so I can at least support myself when I get out of college."
"A writer! How romantic! What do you write?" She seemed really interested. No one had ever asked me that question before.
"I write about things I hear and see. When I leave here tonight, I'll write about all the people I met, and the conversations I heard."
"Will you write about me?" She lowered her voice and inclined her head closer to mine.
"All night long," I replied very softly as Teen Angel began playing on the jukebox.
"And so Allison was your first wife?" Kristina asked when I finished talking about my life in Ypsilanti.
"Yes,
when we finished college, we got married. We didn't stay married for very long."
"What happened?"
"That's a long story with a strange ending. How about we save that for another time?" I ran my hand through her hair. It was so soft and luxurious I wondered how I would be able to keep my hands away from it when we had to face Gary in the morning.
She reached up and touched my hand. With her other hand, she reached for my face once again. "You know, Ed, you're all right. My mom told me that before I left. She said, 'If you're going to see your father at least try to hook up with Ed. He'll be a friend.' I don't believe my mother half the time, but this time I think she might have gotten it right."
I kissed her on the forehead before she stood up to go into her bedroom. "Good night, Kristina."
"Hey, Ed, will you write about me tonight?"
I smiled, and she turned and left me on the couch unable to do anything but think of her, remembering what it felt like to have her in my arms. I forgot all else and relinquished myself to the memory of her vulnerability and obvious need of me.
I stood and looked out from the balcony to no avail. The fog had rolled in once again, and I stared out into a white blanket of mist unable to see even the closest detail of the street below.
Her beauty crept up on him approaching without warning. She took it for granted when he told her that she was beautiful. She wanted him to make her feel whole; her looks served as the tool to achieve her goal.
CHAPTER FOUR
When I finally turned out the light to sleep after Kristina left me, the memories stirred by talking with her would not rest. I could remember Allison and our marriage, but I couldn't write about it. I could write about her, Allison, but not my part in her life. I let my thoughts wander back to the time when Gary and I both entered into our first marriages.
Not only did I write about Allison the night I met her, but I also wrote about her during the next four years of college while we dated and when we became engaged. When we both decided to go for our masters' degrees before getting married, her parents offered to buy us a house as a wedding and graduation present. That gave us two years during graduate school to decide where we wanted to live and teach.
I moved out of my parents' house during my senior year of college and rented an apartment across the street from campus and within view of the tall, phallic water tower that greeted all visitors to Ypsilanti. My small abode faced Cross Street and the admission's office for EMU. With its dark wood and one main room, my apartment provided comfortable living quarters for one person. Although cramped when Allison stayed over, the bathroom with its claw-foot tub and skylight made it livable.
Allison lived with three other girls two blocks away in a large rambling house soon to be replaced by one of the new modern apartment complexes. However, she still spent many days and nights at my place where the smallness of the apartment sheltered us from the outside world.
We would lie on the day bed and read poetry to one another while the snow fell outside and the radiators hissed inside. Sometimes winter storms stranded us for days in the small space. Luckily, the apartment was right above a small pharmacy that carried a limited amount of groceries for the convenience of its college student neighbors.
During these years, I saw little of Gary. We talked on the phone occasionally, and we saw each other on the major holidays. Other than that, he never came home because when he did his father harangued him about finding a girlfriend.
"Look at Ed! Already engaged to marry when he completes his masters," Uncle Philip said during Christmas break, the winter before my wedding.
"I'm so proud of you and Allison for getting your education first before settling down. Plenty of time for that," Aunt Claire said.
"But what's he going to do with a degree in literature, for God's sake," my father said.
"He's going to be a teacher, right, Ed?" my mother said. "And coach."
"I'm going to teach, Mom. I'm not so sure about coaching. I'm still writing, remember? And you and Aunt Claire will be the first to get autographed copies of my first novel."
My father snorted and picked up his beer before walking into the living room to watch football.
"At least you've got your future set," Claire said. "Allison's a fine girl, Ed. She'll be the most wonderfullest mother around."
"Wait a minute, Aunt Claire. Allison and I planned on waiting a few years before starting a family."
"All I can say is, at least you're man enough to get a girl and pin her down, hey, Ed." Uncle Philip came around the table and slapped me on the back before heading to the buffet for another shot of whiskey and then into the living room to watch the game with his brother.
I looked over at Gary who had been listening to these exchanges with a strange look in his eye. When his father made the last remark, Gary shoved his chair away from the table and put on his jacket.
"Where you headed, Gar?" I asked.
"Out. You can come or you can sit here and receive more praise from the great Philip Townsend about your manhood."
"Gary, please, not today," Claire said. Forever the peacemaker, Claire just wanted us all to get along.
"Let's go." I reached for my jacket, and we headed out into the cold, bleak day.
We began our ritual walk around the neighborhood with no particular destination in mind. Gary walked faster than normal, and I kept slipping on the ice in an attempt to keep up with him. He was determined to put space between us. Gary had never gotten angry with me before when his father used me as his prime example to humiliate him, so I couldn't figure out why today should be any different.
"Gary, come on, talk to me. What did I do to make you so angry?"
"Do you have to do everything so damn perfect?" he finally said.
"What? Me, perfect?"
"Yes, you. The perfect decisions, the perfect girl, and now you'll probably have the perfect marriage, perfect house, perfect children, perfect job, the perfect . . .”
"Wait a minute, Gary. That's not fair." I wouldn't let him go on taking it out on me. "You're the one who's perfect! Good looks, personality; I've had to fight for everything in my life. Everything has always come easy for you."
"Looks can be deceiving, Cuz. Nothing comes easy for me, especially girls."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I can't seem to find the right girl, like you did. So no girlfriend, and I'm not really interested in finding one except that Dad, Mr. Perfect Townsend, has to make such a big deal out of it. I wish he'd just leave me alone, for chrissakes."
"Gary, you're only twenty-two years old. You haven't met the right girl yet. I was lucky to find Allison, but that's all it is, luck. It hasn't got anything to do with what kind of man I am."
"Maybe." Gary paused and stopped walking for a moment. He looked at me. "Ed, remember when I told you about my first time?" He began walking again with his head down, and his chin nearly pressed into his chest. I had to struggle to hear him.
"Yes, so what?"
"So what, is that it's never changed for me. I never feel anything and believe me, I try. Sometimes I . . ." He was struggling I knew, but I was at a loss to help him.
"What is it, Gar?" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing. You're probably right, I haven't met the right girl yet." He patted me on the back and changed the subject.
Allison and I were married one month after receiving our degrees in the summer of 1966. As her parents had spared no expense, we were married in a flashing, sometimes blinding frenzy of activity. I walked around in a daze for almost a month wondering how I had gotten myself into this mess. Allison reveled in all the activities and social events, dragging me along by her side. I felt numb.
We had both taken teaching jobs at Pioneer High School in Ann Arbor and decided to let her parents buy us one of the older homes on the west side of town. We finally agreed on a place badly in need of fixing up, which we began in the months prior to our wedding.
Allison wanted a new home at first
, until I convinced her that our two-story colonial would be a challenge and a showpiece once we refinished the wood floors and removed the paint from the hardwood banisters and woodwork. Most of the homes around us were much simpler in design so our home would stand out from the others once we made all of the improvements. I didn't realize at the time the appeal this facade held for Allison.
Gary served as my best man and performed his duties to perfection. All of the bridesmaids fell a little in love with him as he treated each one with a friendly respect. When I watched him so effortlessly flirting, I wondered why he couldn't find someone to make him happy.
He was living in Chicago working for an advertising firm since his graduation from MSU the year before. Sometime during his second year of college, he decided that advertising suited him much better than law. For once Uncle Philip agreed with his decision.
We had little time to talk with all of the festivities, but Gary did manage to throw me a great bachelor party. Two carloads of us drove to Detroit to a couple of strip clubs. At one of them, Gary and the guys paid for my own private show. Even the callused strippers seemed to gravitate toward Gary though. Throughout the night, I would watch as he juggled one and sometimes two girls on his knees and wondered once again when he would find happiness.
At the reception, Uncle Philip congratulated me loudly, making broad hints about the wedding night. Allison told me later that Philip was nothing more than a dirty old man.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"He had his hands all over me while we were dancing. He kept pulling me closer; I had to fight him all the time."
"He was drunk. He always does stuff like that."
"No matter what you may believe, don't ever leave me alone in a room with him. If he does that in public while I'm in a wedding dress, then imagine what he'd do if we were alone."
"Ally, he's harmless." I laughed to think of Uncle Philip and my new bride together.
"OK, laugh, I'm just warning you."