Stormer’s Pass

by Benjamin Laskin

  The most enjoyable hours spent with the Thoreson’s were those around their fireplace or on the back porch after a dinner often specially prepared by Virginia herself. On those evenings, father, daughter, and friend would discuss, debate, and ponder the world of ideas. Their conversations were always lively and thought provoking, though never absent of humor. Good conversation turns the soil of the mind, and for the old woman whose mind had laid fallow for so many years, the return of an intellectual cultivation was the end of a long drought of ennui. Her banks overflowed on those nights, and she found a new fertility in herself. For Virginia Winters, the realization that she had not grown senile was a relief and a blessing. Although she figured that she didn’t have many years left, as long as she could still think and express her thoughts out loud she was content.

  Ms. Winters was well aware of the town’s plans for expansion. Pinecrest had been growing steadily for some time, but it was now bracing to shift into warp-speed. Blueprints for a huge resort that would push right up to the gates of Camelot were already on the table. In only a couple of months the rumble of bulldozers and the angry buzz of chain saws would replace the songs of birds and the rustle of wind through the trees. The Thoresons would be under siege, and there would be no stopping “the briefcase-wielding barbarians.”

  Small strokes fell great oaks, the pen is mightier than the sword, and there was little on earth that the sliding of a few multimillion-dollar contracts across a table could not accomplish. Only a few weeks earlier, and unbeknownst to Camelot’s denizens, their fate was sealed one hundred miles away, during a lunch of lobster and highballs, in a restaurant that overlooked a bay full of sailboats.

  25

  Pen Pals

  Dear Aidos,

  I’m sitting at my mom’s restaurant in the very booth you sat in when we first met. My mom wasn’t feeling well so she went home early leaving me to close up by myself. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. A dozen dirty tables need bussing and the kitchen is a mess, but lunch is over and since we’re closed for dinner anyway, I’m in no hurry.

  I just finished reading your latest letter. I’ve been carrying it around with me since yesterday waiting for the right time to read it. I’ve never received such a long letter before. I came prepared and brought my dictionary with me since I knew you’d use a bunch of words I didn’t know. I write them down and memorize them. I do the same with the books I’m reading. I keep the vocabulary list in my back pocket so that I can review the new words when I have nothing better to do. In class, for instance.

  So you’ve known all along, eh? I should have figured. When I opened your letter and a feather drifted out onto the table I knew I was busted. I don’t know why I left that feather on your pillow. Maybe deep down I wanted to get caught. Maybe it wasn’t even that deep down.

  What you refer to in your letter as a “typical” day amazes me. How do you fit so much into one day? It’s inspiring.

  I’m working hard at making my days richer and more interesting too. I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do. It’s both exciting and a little overwhelming. I know I want to make myself better—to learn and experience and know as much as I can—but it isn’t easy. It takes a lot of discipline for one thing. So, in order to be more disciplined I’ve changed many things in my life. Most of these changes revolve around trying not to waste time. I stopped watching TV, and that in itself has been a huge timesaver. My mom thinks that I must have either done something really bad or am planning to.

  Except for Steve, who is acting as weird as I am, my friends think I’m ignoring them. I’m not. I just don’t want to sit around for hours on end at the Dairy Queen or some place talking about the same old things—sports, girls, TV and movies and video games, and what this or that person posted on Facebook. I have nothing against that stuff, but there has got to be more to life than that. You probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. But don’t worry, you’re not missing much.

  The prom is coming up, and that’s a big topic of conversation these days. I know you know I have a girlfriend and who she is. I’ve been going out with Katie for almost two years now. She’s bright, funny, easy-going, and very pretty. Her father, however, can’t stand me. In case you don’t know, the Austins are very wealthy and own about half the town. The Stormers are very lower middle class and won’t own their own home for another ten years. At first, I tried to be nice and make a good impression, but my reputation preceded me. I knew I had my work cut out for me when on our first date Mr. Austin answered the door with a Louisville Slugger over his shoulder. I told him I thought he was holding it wrong and should choke up on it a little more, though not quite in those words.

  Katie is a year ahead of me and is graduating soon. She can’t wait to get out of here and go to college. Stanford, I think. I told her about you. She said she would like to meet you. She said she thinks you’re a good influence on me.

  Well, it’s getting late and I have a restaurant to clean. I’m looking forward to your next letter. And thanks for that book list I asked for. I’ll get on it right away.

  Your friend, Max

  26

  Stealing Home

  “Come on in, Max. Katie should be down in a minute.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Austin. How are you?”

  “Late.” She turned and called out towards the back of the house. “Come on, Jack. We’re supposed to be there in twenty minutes and we still have to stop at the store on the way.”

  “I’m coming,” came a shout from a back room. “These things never start on time anyway.”

  “You look very nice,” Max said, his hands behind his back, standing at ease. “Where are you off to?”

  Mrs. Austin walked over to the bar, tossed some ice into a glass and fixed herself a quick vodka and tonic. “Fund raiser for the governor. Two hundred dollars a plate. A lot of high rollers from the coast are driving up for it. Didn’t you hear?”

  “No,” Max said, joining her at the bar. He reached for a glass and dropped some ice into it. Under the cover of conversation he grabbed up the vodka. “I’m not very political and I don’t read the papers much.”

  “These things aren’t about politics,” Mrs. Austin said, intercepting the bottle and replacing it with a soft drink. She lit a cigarette.

  “No?” Max said. He snatched up the pack of cigarettes and casually tapped one out and put it to his lips. “So what are they about?”

  “Backscratching and palm-greasing.” She leaned her head back and shouted, “Jack! Now, let’s go!”

  “So,” Max said, flicking the lighter and holding it poised at the tip of the cigarette, “whose backs are we scratching and how much grease are we talking?”

  “No one knows and fewer care.” She snatched the unlit cigarette from Max’s lips and tossed it into the waste basket, and then walked irately to the back of the house to see what was keeping her husband. The heels of her shoes clicked on the wood floor as she went, a sweet scent of perfume in her wake.

  Max poured out the soda from his glass and replaced it with vodka and tonic. He took up another cigarette and lit it. Leaning against the bar, he surveyed the room, reliving various memories experienced in the Austin household. The long leather couch where he shared his first kiss with Katie. The cracked plaster in the wall where Mr. Austin fired a hardball at him that same night, and missed. Max chuckled to himself and sipped his drink. His reveries were cut short by the approach of the quarreling Austins.

  “The bottom of the ninth, two out, bases loaded, tied score—and you turn the TV off! I don’t believe it.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I care! I have fifty bucks riding on this game. Is it too much to ask that—?” He saw Max Stormer across the room. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Hullo, Mr. Austin,” Max said, toasting him with his glass. “You’re looking mighty dapper. Nice suspenders.”

  “He’s waiting for Katie. Tonight’s the prom, remember?” She shook her head in annoyance and picked he
r hand purse up from the couch.

  “What’s he drinking?” Mr. Austin said. “You’re putting our daughter in the hands of a drunken maniac?”

  “It’s only soda, Jack. Let’s go already.”

  “Just a second.” He walked over to Max, and looking him in the eyes, reached over and turned on the faucet in the bar sink. He snatched the cigarette from Max’s mouth, dropped it into the sink, and turned off the water.

  Jack Austin was not a small man. He was six-feet three-inches of firmly packed brawn; muscle left over from his years as a first baseman in the minor leagues. He had put on weight since those carefree days, but it was distributed imposingly well.

  He sneered at Max and spoke to him through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what Katie sees in you. She can have any boy on this mountain and she goes out with a smart-ass loser like you? I don’t get it.”

  “Jack…” Mrs. Austin growled.

  “Okay, okay.” Mr. Austin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted his tie. “What does it matter anyway?” he said, his eyes narrowed in on Max’s. “Katie will be leaving at the end of the summer for college and that will be the end of you, pal. She’ll come to her senses. She’ll realize what a waste of time you are. She’ll meet a real man. Count on it.”

  Max picked up his glass again, took an ice cube into his mouth and began sucking on it. His eyes fixed unflinchingly on Mr. Austin’s, he crunched down on the ice.

  From the top of the stairs, Katie sang, “Hey everyone! How do I look?” She spun once around in her blue party dress, and then bounded down the staircase and across the room over to Max. She planted a big kiss on his cheek, messed his hair, and then pulling him close, embraced him from behind. “Tonight is going to be so much fun, isn’t it, Max?” Katie kissed him again, remaining on tiptoe, looking at him over his shoulder.

  “You bet,” he said, his eyes still locked in battle with Mr. Austin’s.

  Mr. Austin smirked and turned to his wife. “Let’s go,” he said. “I can catch the wrap-up show on the radio.”

  “Lock up, Honey,” Mrs. Austin said as they walked to the door. “Have a good time. Don’t stay out too late. And no drinking, okay?”

  “Right, Mom. Bye Daddy. Have fun!”

  As soon as the door closed, Katie moved to the bar and poured two more drinks.

  “Snazzy dress,” Max said. “Man, if I’d have known you were going to look this great, I’d have worn my nicer Levis. I mean it, Katie, you look beautiful.”

  The girl’s face lit up. She was accustomed to people telling her how pretty she was, but Max was the only person that could make her blush.

  Katie had thick, golden hair full of curl that she wore short, cropped straight across, just above her slender neck. Her clear, brown eyes and petal-soft skin that was absent of the usual teenage blemishes, glowed with vivacity. Slender and athletic in build, she was graceful without looking dainty. Intelligent, ambitious, and charming; Katie Austin believed that there was nothing she couldn’t achieve for herself. She walked with head erect and full of the confidence that went along with knowing what one wanted, and understood how to get it.

  Although the girl grew up comparatively wealthy, Katie was not spoiled. She had learned early on that a spoiled life was a mean and trivial life, an example made clear to her by her one and only sibling, Cliff, who was three years her senior and away at college. Katie wasn’t fond of her brother. She thought him cruel, petty, and undeservedly conceited. A sensitive girl, Katie took exception to these family traits, and swore to herself that she would not inherit them.

  Neither, however, was the girl embarrassed or disdainful of her father’s wealth and standing in the community. Levelheaded and pragmatic, Katie appreciated what she had, and she intended to take full advantage of the position in which the stars had placed her to forward her dreams.

  “What was that all about?” Katie asked, as the two sat facing each other on the couch. “I haven’t seen my dad seethe like that since he lost five-hundred dollars on last year’s Super Bowl.”

  “Was he angry? He always looks like that when I’m around.”

  “Come on, Max. What did you say to him this time?”

  “Nothing. He was just grouchier than usual because your mom shut the TV off on him.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think so…”

  “You know, the usual stuff. Your dad telling me how I’m not good enough for you, and me telling him what a dapper-looking fellow I think he is.” Max smiled. “He also bragged that once you go off to college you’ll find a real man and forget all about me.”

  “Well, don’t you worry, Mr. Stormer,” Katie said. “Whether I find a real man or not, I’ll never forget about you.” She laughed and set down her glass. Without warning, she pounced on top of Max and smothered him with kisses. “I love you, Maxwell Stormer.”

  27

  Aretê

  Max and Katie were the last to arrive at Brandon Harper’s prom pre-party. They walked in hand-in-hand and were immediately swarmed by their friends. Katie’s girlfriends tore her away from Max and dragged her into the kitchen to catch her up on the latest gossip and the state of each girl’s inebriation. Sid slapped a beer into Max’s hand and Max’s buddies towed him into the backyard.

  After a few minutes of joking around, Max strolled up to the host of the party to say hello. The host was looking a little nervous.

  “How’s it going, Brandon?”

  “No one has broken anything yet,” he answered.

  “How did you get your parents to agree to hold the party here?”

  “Easy,” he said. “I didn’t ask them. They’re out of town.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Max assured him. He nodded towards the picnic table with its white tablecloth and plates of munchies. “Nice spread. Did Regina help you with that?”

  “No, Dawn helped me.”

  “Dawn? I thought you asked Regina to the prom.”

  “I did, but she changed her mind.”

  “Couldn’t she come?”

  “She’s here.”

  Max glanced about. “Where?”

  “Over there.” Brandon pointed towards the back corner of the yard among the shadows. “Talking to the guy with the hat.”

  It was too dark for Max to see clearly and the youth’s back was to them. “Who’s she with?” Max asked, squinting. “Big guy. Looks a lot like Steve.”

  “Don’t you know?” Brandon chuckled. “That’s Walter.”

  “I don’t know any Walter,” Max said.

  Brandon grinned. “I think you’ve met him before.”

  “Yeah…? I’d remember a guy that big. Especially if he wore a dumb hat like that.”

  Brandon laughed and gave Max a slap on the back. “Go have a look.”

  Max turned to Brandon and asked him concernedly, “Are you bummed that Regina came here with another guy?”

  Brandon shrugged. “It’s not like we were a couple or anything. I think it was harder for her to tell me than it was for me to just ask someone else. Besides, Dawn’s all right. She’s really nice. Cute, too. She helped me set up for the party. We had a lot of fun. She’s not as shy and quiet as she is when she’s around a bunch of people.” He located her in the crowd and saw her looking his way. She waved to him. He waved back and said, “Yeah, Dawn’s cool.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Max said. “She’s the most underrated girl in town. I’m glad you got the eyes to see it.” He gave his big friend a shove and sent him on his way.

  Max stood alone sipping his beer, observing with amusement the antics around him. A number of the kids had begun dancing and he laughed when he overheard Cheeks and Randy ask two girls if they wanted “to boogie.” Rebuffed, but undaunted, Cheeks grabbed his pal by the belt and hauled him across the yard towards more girls, and another humiliating rejection. Nearby he saw Alex and Jake offering one another encouragement and advice about how to pick up chicks. They concluded that before they put their plan into effect they need
ed another beer.

  “What’cha doin’?” Katie asked, strolling up and giving Max a peck on the lips. “Why are you standing here by yourself?”

  “Three down, one to go,” he replied cryptically.

  “You mean, school?”

  “Yeah. But not for you. You’re done. How does it feel?”

  “Great. And lousy. I’m going to miss you, Max. I’m going to miss you bad.”

  “Me too. Half the time you were the only reason I bothered showing up at school at all.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t form any bad habits while I’m gone. You know Kohl is just itching for an excuse to be rid of you.”

  “He won’t do anything as long as I keep throwing touchdowns.”

  “Probably not, but don’t press your luck.” Katie looked about to see if they still had some privacy. “So, um, have you heard from your new friend recently?”

  “You mean, Aidos?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Today, in fact.”

  “What does she write about?” Katie asked.

  “Lots of stuff, but mostly she answers questions I have about the books that she recommends to me.”

  “What kind of books?”

  “History and philosophy mainly.”

  Katie tried not to show her surprise. He’s been reading philosophy? She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be impressed. “Well, like today for instance,” she said. “What did she write about?”