“It’s ironic but those who hate us the most conjure up our memory the most and extend our immortality,” smiled Sharon. “Can you imagine, in Heaven our enemies become our best friends, forever, I might add.”
“Those that we’ve offended the most will remember us the most, while those we’ve loved the most, too soon forget us,” said Robert.
“Yes, look at the Nazis,” said Helen.
“That’s right, Helen,” said Robert. “Good for Robin; she hated the Nazis so she’ll be an immortal the longest.”
“No, Robert, it works the other way around. You know, for an ex-banker, I bet you’re the only spirit that makes mistakes in Heaven,” said Sharon and they all laughed.
“I get it,” said Helen, who wasn’t very good in math but could be very intuitive when she wanted. “That’s why Plato, and Shakespeare, and Beethoven and all those guys are called immortal: because mortals always think about them!”
“And don’t forget Jesus – truly the immortal,” said Sharon. “Those who believe in Jesus will definitely be immortalized in His Spirit far beyond the regular extension.”
“Oh the poor, common people who’ll never know the world of Plato, or Shakespeare, what chance do they have at becoming immortal?” and Robert wanted to cry except he didn’t have any eyes since he was pure spirit.
“You’re right, Robert. Common people pretty much cease to exist soon after they die. That’s why they’re cremated now days. It’s burn them up and good riddance, none of this memorial after death rituals for the poor; straight into the flames and dust them out over the sea - oops! Sorry guys,” said Sharon.
“But burial in a cemetery with a tombstone is different,” said Helen, “for every time some mortal – anybody – walks by your tombstone and reads your name, presto, once again our spirits rise and we exist for at least one faint moment again.”
“What’s a moment in an eternity? I wonder if it works with fish,” said Robert.
“Oh look! It’s Robin at your burial site and she’s thinking about us all. Aren’t you glad you had best friends who think about you, Sharon?” said Helen.
“I never had children to think of me; only my best friends …” said Sharon and she suddenly realized where from, all those enigmatic thoughts about Jesus, and Leonardo da Vinci and the Last Supper, and destiny, and red wine, and, and, and …had come from: they were a scream for immortality; a beg not to be forgotten. They were the cry from one common person to another to “please always think of me.”
And then Sharon thought of her parents. Too late now to think of them, she wished she hadn’t been aloof, removed from them. She longed for them and thought if she longed hard enough for them they might find their way to her in Heaven and be with her forever and ever. Her poor father more than her mother had always been alone and he deserved so much more of human love than her ambitious mother who had, after all, written a book, a cruddy little book, but a book nonetheless that as long as it existed somewhere, her memory, faint as it might burn, would also continue to exist. But her father? She wished she could hug him; not in some flimsy spiritual way but in an earthly warm bodily hug full of the squeeze.
“Don’t be sad, Sharon,” said Helen. “After all, we are in Heaven; it could be worse.”
“I would give all eternity and Heaven for one more earthly hug from my parents,” Sharon was not being careful in what she was wishing.
“Hey, that’s an idea! I tell you what,” said Robert. “Why don’t we take a little spin down to earth again and see what our loved ones are doing? Even as spirits it should be fun.”
Chapter Twenty
It had been more than two years since Sharon’s untimely death, and age, as well as life’s unforeseen twists, had begun to gnaw away into the good times of the remaining still living friends. Within months after her parents’ suicide in the Eastern Mediterranean, Robin had secured uncontested ownership of the Pioneer Bank, a loving in memoriam gift willed to her by her father. In spite of the tightly detailed will document, legally unchallengeable, which clearly left everything to Robin Calder, nee Robin Sargent, daughter of Robert Sargent, the document was contested by the Pioneer Bank Board on the basis that Robin was professionally unqualified to lead a large company like Pioneer Bank. The Board’s crushing argument had been that her character had been tainted by abortions and a ruthless divorce from a previous officer of the Bank. It was also brought forth in court that Robin had whored for years and that she was most likely an alcoholic. During the difficult days of the trial Myrna and Kitty daily stood by their best friend as best they knew how, though some observers thought their presence in the courtroom worked against Robin. It was with tremendous relief that the three friends would get together, most days, after court, and enjoy each other’s company, as they once used to; and in their moment of need and uncertainty they always wished that Sharon had been with them. Not a day went by when they did not think of beautiful Sharon. The loss of their gorgeous friend was much greater than the loss of any bank, a thought of great relief to unload their grief.
“Screw it, Robin, let them have their shitty bank. You’d still be the major stockholder anyway,” Kitty would say during times of haggling frustration.
But Robin was determined to make Daddy proud, wherever he might have been. The Pioneer Bank was to stay under the control of the Sargent DNA, and eventually Robert Sargent’s will prevailed in the courts.
During these many months of courtroom battles the friend who solidly held Robin’s hand throughout the ordeal was Hank Merker. Beautiful Hank from the days of Magnolia High School, he of the best friends’ longings forever and ever, who had never left Robin’s deep aching postponed heart-felt memories of the man she always wanted. He stood strong by her side, like a Corinthian column that Robin found solid comfort to lean on. And every weekend they would get away from it all and drive up to Santa Barbara, and Robin would rediscover the feelings she had always had for handsome Hank, star high school quarterback, ex-husband of her best friend Sharon. Dormant all the years since high school, the carnal desire exploded into days of teen-aged feelings of rampant sex with lovely long legs stranded high in the air. Mature now in their rambling desire, it was like travelling back into their dream, wonderful unadulterated memories of being young again.
“She’s dead,” they would remind each other.
“I hope she’s in Heaven fucking some angel,” smiled Robin.
“A woman’s life should be full of action, full of sexual adventure mixed with lots of adultery, if it’s to be a happy life,” Hank would try to reassure Robin. “For a man these things are given.”
Sentiments like these coming from the mouth of Hank would surprise Robin who still remembered him as a high school jock. And she would surrender into his arms and make love to him over and over again.
“I love you Hank. I’ve always loved you,” Robin would feel at home on such moments of high emotional surrender.
He’s quite the man, Robin would be pleased, and she finally understood that it wasn’t Hank’s quarterback agilities that had attracted all the high school girls but the huge amounts of testosterone that the man exuded even then. He was a man, a true alpha male, an unending stream of hot spermatozoa. For the life of her, Robin could not understand what Hank had seen in anal Sharon, nor why hysterical Sharon could not appreciate husband Hank. Some marriages simply don’t work out as well as they might.
Then she would think of David and the Ethiopian guy.
It was during one of their robust love making bouts that Hank suddenly stopped his vigorous thrusts and looked up in the air as if checking for mosquitoes.
“What’s the matter,” asked Robin?
“I don’t know. It was like somebody was here watching over us,” he said.
“It’s all in your mind, dear,” said Robin, and she strangely thought of her father.
It was during one of their Santa B
arbara weekends that Hank and Robin decided to marry. It was a surprise wedding call, especially for Myrna and Kitty, and appropriately enough, when it did take place, after the court battles were over, it was a small wedding, just for the friends; Claudio and Mark were there too. Hank remembered his feeble wedding to Sharon and convinced Robin that in memory of Sharon they should have a wedding without fanfare. It was thus a simple affair with Myrna crying during the ceremony, and throughout the reception, until Hank convinced her that nothing would change between them, and that he was sure Robin would understand. Kitty danced a lot with Mark and it was obvious Claudio didn’t care, his mind swooshing through the sea shores and balmy afternoons somewhere in Sicily. It seemed to Claudio, that with Sharon gone, he simply no longer belonged with the best friends’ crowd who ultimately had no concept of the world outside sunny Southern California. During the small ceremony, nobody talked to him so he nibbled on the catered food from one of Hank’s restaurants and toasted the many wines catered by some black guy from an expensive cave. He thought of dancing with Myrna but Mark beat him to it and he was relieved. Out of politeness he did dance a slow one with bride Robin but he kept his hand well above her waist.
While Claudio was quietly pining away for his childhood memories of Sicily, he hadn’t noticed that his wife had changed partners and was now doing a slow two step with Hank.
They make a lovely couple he thought to himself; they will burn in hell for fornicating on the dance floor of their friends’ wedding, he smiled. He vaguely remembered that Hank had told him he was going to do his Kitty but Claudio didn’t care. His marriage had been a slick, makeshift affair, its inevitability charted by a well-heeled, tight ass, little Kitty. Really, not much there but money. He used to think that he was lucky but now realized that Kitty had been the driver the whole time. Better yet, send her to Purgatory, alone for an eternity, he smiled a vengeful smile and looked away from Hank and Kitty dancing.
“Do you remember fucking me in the school gym one night,” she inaudibly whispered in his ear? She was breathing hard remembering the event.
“How could I forget,” he held her tightly against him. She was so tiny in his arms.
“We all know that you’re fucking Myrna,” she said. “So now you’ve fucked all of us. You’ve fucked the four best of friends.”
“I had fucked all four of you while we were still in Magnolia High, if you remember Kitty,” he whispered back and maneuvered her slightly in such a way as to cup a breast feel so that only Claudio could see. Claudio did notice, Hank gave Claudio a wink, and Claudio smiled back, keeping his word.
“You were such a tight fit …” he started to say.
“You bastard,” said Kitty, “and all these years we all thought that Sharon was the only one you wanted.”
Hank gave a loud manly laugh but nobody paid too much attention because after all this was his wedding day and everyone knew that women just floated his way.
“All of you wanted me, Kitty. You, and Sharon, and Robin, and Myrna, and just about all the other girls in Magnolia High. Don’t you know, Kitty, that all girls, young and not so young, always want the quarterback? It’s that bounce we have that makes all girls judge our character as supremely excellent; all girls want to score with quarterbacks.”
“Well, your supreme excellence, it’s never too late and I want my fair share,” said Kitty.
“Only Sharon couldn’t see my excellence,” said Hank regretfully. “But for you, Kitty, I have it from Claudio that I can fuck you anytime you want. Maybe the three of us could all get together honestly some time.”
“And I thought Claudio was the jealous type,” said Kitty in slight disappointment.
“Well, Kitty, the Lord works in many strange ways,” and he made her jump with a good goose up her ass, in view of all, who thought it funny.
Later that evening when he was making love to his new bride, there again occurred coitus interruptus when Hank thought he heard a hushed ‘shhhhhh’ sound, and again several ‘shhhhh’ sounds breaking the sound barrier above their bed.
From below, his surprised wife said, “What is it, dear?”
“I thought I heard … like a ‘shhhhh’ sound,” he said.
“Hush! It’s all in your mind,” she said.
*
Immediately after their wedding, Robin made Hank the CEO of Pioneer Bank to the consternation of some of the Board who resigned in protest. Hank once again found his old quarterback agility and he exercised it ruthlessly. Leadership comes natural to a star quarterback who like a maestro coordinates eleven champions. For Hank, assuming the CEO position was like lobbing easy sixty yard touchdown passes. With supreme confidence he appointed his wide receiver Mark Freeman on the Board as well as President of Pioneer Bank. In a similar manner he also appointed Robin, Myrna, and Kitty on the Board. They all received lucrative bonuses in addition to fat salaries. And in a most heartfelt exhibition of loyalty, he appointed all his former football teammates from the Magnolia High School championship squad to positions throughout the company; mostly staff positions, for he knew his men. It was a generous gesture, full of humility, of a forever friendship that had bound the team since their teenage beer drinking days. In his heart Hank knew that any one of his buddies would have done the same for him if they were in his place. To his still bafflement, this resolute friendship was something that his now dead wife Sharon had never understood.
He ruled Pioneer Bank like any champion quarterback, on any Sunday afternoon, would rule his realm, showing no mercy to any incompetence. From his high school days Hank had learned from his coaches that as a leader he should love his teammates but show no pity in his demands of loyalty and in the execution of play. His work philosophy was straightforward: those who dropped the ball, who did not carry their fair share of the burden had to go because they made it difficult for those that were out there giving their best. He would spend long hours in the office, including weekends, but in spite of Hank’s valiant efforts the Bank’s shares were plummeting on Wall Street. Articles were written in Forbes, Fortune, and the WSJ, about how to turn the Pioneer Bank’s fortunes around, and there was criticisms about the Bank’s management style on TV by pundits galore, who were also merciless in their condemnation of the CEO’s cronyism. He tried, but it was difficult for Hank to understand that just because you can throw a football doesn’t mean you can run a bank.
In defiance to the media short-sightedness, and the office politics buzzing around poor Hank, Robin couldn’t help but feel very proud of her husband. She had no doubts that he was the right man for the job, being the man she had loved from their high school days, all her life. She knew her man well, and likewise knew that a woman without a man was a lost soul.
Unfortunately, like in the past, Hank had no time for Robin, nor for Myrna, nor for Kitty, for that matter. You didn’t stop in the middle of a game to fuck a cheerleader no matter how high she kicked her pretty legs. Still, there was plenty of time for the many pretty young management trainees, just out of college, who, like groupies everywhere, were all too perky and thrilled to fuck the boss. Cocky and self-assured, they would wait till after work hours to be taken to the CEO’s Executive Suite to be quickly undressed and fucked. He had his favorites, though he would confuse their names, but they didn’t care, for they all knew that he had also been a high school quarterback. Lovely young things, they were all beautiful adornments to his many other trophies.
Aside from the trainees, the one woman that he would invite to his office, especially on weekends, was Roberta, his former waitress now the manager of his favorite restaurant. She would bring their son Adam, whom Hank loved very much, to the office and they would spend much of the weekends playing touch football. And whenever Adam might tire and fall asleep in the office, Hank and Roberta would make love. Hank thought that he loved Roberta as much as he loved Adam but the thought was too complex to process to a happy conclusion. When such
thoughts crept into his mind, he went muddy and found relief by dreamingly travelling back to throwing his football through the old tire in the back yard. He was appreciative that Roberta had never questioned him, or forced the issue.
One late evening while Hank was hard corking one of his pretty young management trainees, insatiable perks they were, he had a massive heart attack and he died on the top of his huge desk, cushioned by his shrieking trainee under him.
“He was gurgling and foaming at the mouth, heavy on top of me, and I didn’t know what to do,” she explained to the police shortly before she quit her management training job. People just don’t expect star athletes to die so young, so easily.
Robin was crushed at the news of Hank’s death. So were Kitty and Myrna. They consoled each other with true confessions about their feelings for poor dead Hank. Who would’ve thought? It seemed like an era had come to a dead end.
“We belong to the sisterhood of beautiful women,” was the way Kitty put it. “We are adored as any piece of art and all men blindly desire us. They worship us and give themselves wholly to us. We are goddesses.”
“Yes,” agreed Myrna. “We never fall in love with any man and yet, we enjoy all the pleasures that men can offer!”
As always, during sad times, for Robin, it was so nice to have Kitty and Myrna around. They had a way with words. They made the obvious sparkle with the truth.
Six weeks after Hank’s heart attack episode, Robin married best man Mark Freeman. It was the clear think to do; none were getting younger, and “loneliness is a bitch”, as Myrna would often repeat. It was a magnificent wedding with lots of strangers among the invitees.
“Marriage is a delusion; nobody should ever marry,” said Myrna on that occasion.
“As Sharon use to say, nobody belongs to anybody; we are all independent as the Lord meant us to be,” was the way Kitty put it.
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