Blackberry Winter

by Maryanne Fischler

  Just as she was turning out the light that night and getting into bed, the phone in her apartment rang.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” came Brian’s voice, “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I was just climbing into bed.”

  “I hope you enjoyed the afternoon. I’m sorry about that business with Paul. We didn’t mean to chase you away.”

  “I don’t mind if you two need some time alone together once in a while. He’s your best friend, after all. It did seem strange to see you upset with one another. That’s a new one on me.”

  “We weren’t really upset, we just have a difference of opinion about something. It’s not important. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ll just add it to the list.”

  “You mean the list of things you worry about?”

  “No. I have a list I keep in my journal of things I’m going to ask you about someday when you seem ready. Don’t ask me how I’ll know you’re ready, because I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “I’ve got something I’ve been wanting to ask you, too. Why did you downplay the seriousness of your accident when my parents asked how we met?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like to talk about my health with people, and it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “You were in the hospital for a week, you couldn’t see, and you were in pain. That strikes me as a pretty big deal.”

  “Well, it isn’t interesting material for polite conversation. Being a doctor your father has probably heard about all the aches and pains he ever wants to hear about.”

  Brian couldn’t quite fathom what it was about this conversation that bothered him, but it lingered in the back of his mind.

  On Monday evening the McClellans met Emily at a popular hotel restaurant in the heart of the downtown area. When everyone was settled in the corner booth and had ordered drinks, Brian asked Emily how her day at work had been.

  “Same old thing. I spent most of the morning trying to untangle a computer problem concerning some books I sent to one of the branches last week. According to the computer, I sent fifteen books to the branch, all of them the same title. The branch librarian says she didn’t get any books at all. I’ll probably have to get a team of bloodhounds together to track the solution down. Then, this afternoon, I was using a chair to reach some things on a high shelf and fell. Have you ever noticed that when you’re doing something really stupid, that’s when you fall and make so much noise they can hear you in the next county? If I had been using a ladder like I was supposed to and fell, it wouldn’t have made a sound, and I wouldn’t have had to listen to thirteen different lectures about safety in the workplace.”

  “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” Brian asked with some concern.

  “Just got a knock on my elbow and a bruise on my dignity.”

  Brian insisted on examining the injured arm, and when Emily produced it, he exclaimed, “This is a nasty contusion, it’s all black and blue. I’ll bet that really hurts.”

  Emily seemed embarrassed by his attention. “Really, Brian, it’s just a bruise.”

  Mrs. McClellan commented, “You must have a high threshold for pain. That is quite a bruise.”

  Emily was obviously uncomfortable with the theme of the conversation. “I’m just clumsy, it’s really nothing.” The waiter came to deliver the drinks and take their dinner orders, and Emily was relieved for the chance to change the subject. “Did you all get to see the new baseball field today?”

  Doctor McClellan answered, “Yes, it’s really something isn’t it? Are you a big baseball fan, Emily?”

  “Oh, yes. Back in Raleigh the favorite sport is college basketball, which I also like, but baseball is definitely high on my list of fun ways to spend time.”

  The discussion of the national pastime lasted all the way through the meal. Brian had a head for statistics, and Dr. McClellan had a good memory for specific great plays. He told them of hearing Willie Mays’ famous over-the-shoulder catch of Vic Wertz’ long fly ball in the 1954 World Series. “I know there are so-called ‘experts’ who say that Mays’ catch wasn’t that big a deal, but I heard every word on the radio back in Burlington, and if that catch wasn’t the greatest in the history of the game the announcer was a bald-faced liar.”

  With a perfectly straight face, Brian asked his father, “You were there when Alexander Cartwright laid out the first diamond, weren’t you?”

  “You bet,” Dr. McClellan replied. “I was there for Hoss Radbourn’s sixtieth win, and when Bill Wambganss pulled off that triple play in the World Series, and I was the doctor who wrote out Ed Delahanty’s death certificate when he fell off the train going over Niagara Falls.”

  Emily was a big baseball fan, but wasn’t up on her history. “I’ve never heard of those things. I had no idea any pitcher had ever won sixty games, for instance. You sure have seen a lot in your time. ”

  “Well, not exactly,” Brian explained. “Radbourn won sixty in 1884, Wambganss’ triple play was in 1920, and Ed Delahanty took the big plunge as a result of a bender he went on in 1903.”

  “Oh, really now. You shouldn’t treat your father that way. I’ll bet you’ve seen some things in your time, too.”

  “I have, actually. In my younger days I had a chance to see some marvelous players. I saw Willie Stargell hit 500 foot home runs, and Hank Aaron crush one of his 755, and Carl Yastrzemski get struck out by Jim Palmer. Those were wonderful days, before interleague play and 100 million dollar contracts.”

  Emily found it all fascinating. It occurred to her as it only rarely did that Brian really was of a different generation from her. “We followed different baseball players,” she thought. “He listened to the Who, my friends listened to Nirvana. We admired different heroes. The touchstones of our lives have been totally different. In 1991, I was a scrawny kid whose worst problem was trying to stay out of my father’s way. Brian was a doctor in Iraq, trying to keep people alive. Different touchstones, but both producing troubled people.”

  Upon returning to Brian’s house, Mrs. McClellan announced her intention of walking off her dinner, “Come along with me, Emily,” she invited, “we can have some girl talk.”

  Emily was tired and thought seriously of excusing herself and going on home, but it occurred to her that it might be a good idea for Brian and his father to have some time alone. She also hesitated to turn down the invitation for fear it would make Mrs. McClellan think her cold.

  Brian recognized his mother’s ploy to get him alone with his father for what it was, and didn’t think for a minute that it would work. Sure enough, no sooner were the women out of sight then Dr. McClellan pronounced himself exhausted and carried himself off to bed. “No skin off my nose, old man. You don’t want to talk to me, fine, I can live without talking to you.” He would not have wanted to admit that his father’s snub made him angry and a little hurt.

  Chapter 5

  It seemed especially quiet and calm in the house after the guests had departed. It was good to get back to normal activities again. Brian expressed great satisfaction at being able to spend time alone with Emily.

  “Goodness, Brian, they were here less than a week. A body would think to listen to you that they had stayed a year.” But the truth was, that there had been an element of tension in the air the whole time the McClellans had been there that Emily wasn’t fully aware of until they were gone. It was like after a storm when the quiet is so intense that only then does one realize how noisy the storm had been. She too was glad the visit was over.

  “What did you and my mother talk about Monday night on your little walk?” he asked.

  “Oh, she talked about how cute you were as a baby, and how popular you were in school, and how proud they were when you went off to medical school. I think the idea that I was supposed to be getting is what a great catch you are and how lucky I was that you condescended to date me.”

  “She didn’t really say all that, did she?” he asked in a half embarrassed, half amused voice. />
  “Oh yes. She also told me how the girls in college all threw themselves at you, and your parents were afraid you would let it ‘turn your head.’ But you behaved like the McClellans have always behaved since the very dawn of time and stuck to your upbringing.”

  She had meant it as a joke, but realized after she said it that Brian was far from laughing. “What’s the matter?”

  “What exactly did my mother say about my college years?” His voice made it clear to Emily that she had crossed the line into Things We Do Not Talk About.

  “Well, I don’t remember exactly. You know, it’s easy to lose the train of thought when your mother really gets going. She said something about how girls always threw themselves at fellows in pre-med because parents want their daughters to marry doctors. She said that she and your father felt some concern, but they knew you were always dedicated to medicine. I don’t remember anything else, I mean, I wasn’t taking notes. What’s the matter? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It’s my mother who should have kept her mouth shut.” After a pause, he went on, “She doesn’t remember things exactly as they were. I didn’t behave nearly as nobly in college as she says I did. There were plenty of women who threw themselves at me, and I willingly caught them, and chased a few others besides. There were a lot of things I did that embarrass me now.”

  “Brian,” she said softly, “It was a long time ago. You were young. Let it go. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I thought that Christianity teaches that forgiveness comes only after confession and repentance.” There was a note, just a trace, of sarcasm in his voice.

  Emily was surprised to hear his comment, but didn’t want to drop the ball on a chance to discuss faith. “If you want to confess and repent, that’s between you and God, and there’s no doubt that forgiveness would happen. But I’m curious—why did you bring this up?”

  “I want to know if any of this bothers you, if you hold what I did against me.” The voice was still serious, but no longer at all antagonistic.

  “I don’t even know what you did, nor do I want to know. If you want my forgiveness, I forgive you because I myself have been forgiven. ”

  Brian was obviously ready to change the subject, “I find it difficult to believe that we’re spending our first evening alone together discussing theology.”

  “All right,” Emily sighed, “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I want us to plan a trip together. Let’s string together days off and make a long weekend. Let’s drive out to the coast.”

  “Where would we stay?”

  “In a hotel, I’ll make all the arrangements. Don’t worry, two rooms.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean, how would it look?”

  “Who cares? Who would be looking at how it would look? Besides, people don’t worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

  The look on her face made it clear that a “little old ladies” speech was about to commence. “Don’t think that argument carries any weight with me. If people cared more about appearances they’d have something to keep them out of trouble when their morals didn’t. It seems to me that the harder it is to embarrass people, the worse off the world is.”

  “Emily,” Brian began, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, “There wouldn’t be anything wrong in it. We’d be in separate rooms. It would all be completely above board. I just think a change of scenery would do us both good.”

  “Well, all right, but I’ll pay for my own room.”

  “Fine,” he was smiling and shaking his head at the same time. “By all means, pay for your own room.”

  It was about two weeks later and there was a definite tinge of fall in the air as they set out. The drive to the coast was about four hours long, and they broke it up with occasional stops for light snacks and to stretch their legs. Emily remembered that in her childhood, her family rarely traveled. She thought at the time that her parents simply didn’t want to make the effort to take the children on any kind of vacations, but in retrospect realized that the kind of weirdness that her family was encumbered by was too heavy to take on the road. A family on vacation is a family in public view, and that was something her parents couldn’t tolerate. On those rare occasions when they had to go somewhere like a family funeral, there was no stopping at restaurants, no stopping to admire a view. They had been known to drive with five children for twenty straight hours with meals eaten in the car and bathroom breaks at nasty gas stations. They acted on the road like the very demons of hell were riding right behind them and it was a race to get to their destination before they were overcome. It never seemed to occur to them that they were carrying the demons along inside of them.

  She shared some of these memories with Brian as they rode along, and asked him what sorts of vacations his family took.

  “My father had trouble getting away for very long. It was hard for him to leave his patients. Of course, you know he believes that there is some life-giving property in the air of Vermont that makes it difficult for natives to survive for long out of state. We did go to Washington to see all the monuments. Dad is heavily into monuments. And we went to Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. We went to Boston and saw all the historical sites there. When I graduated from high school my mother and I spent several days in New York, which was fabulous. You and I have to go to New York sometime. I used to go to the coast of Massachusetts for a week or so every summer with my Uncle Ted. I always wanted to go to the coast sometime when it wasn’t hot. Looks like I’m going to get my chance.”

  “Where do you usually go on vacation now that you’re on your own?”

  “I spend a couple of weeks at home around Christmas most years. I often drive to the mountains for a few days in the fall. Sometimes I go to Atlanta to see the Braves play. I have some time off coming up in November I’ll have to decide what to do with. How about you? I know you went back to your home town for several days, but that wasn’t like a vacation. Where do you usually like to go?”

  “I don’t go much of anywhere. I don’t feel safe traveling alone, although I know women do it nowadays.”

  “Do you feel safe right now?”

  “Yes. Quite safe.”

  “How much protection do you suppose I’d be? You’re probably tougher than I am.”

  “You’re good protection from the things that scare me. I don’t worry about a criminal coming up and hitting me over the head and snatching my purse. I’m scared by things like not knowing how much to tip a taxi driver. Would you believe I’ve never been in a taxi? And I’m scared of getting lost and having to ask a perfect stranger for directions. And I’m afraid I’ll park in the wrong place and they’ll tow away my car and I won’t have the foggiest notion about how to get it back. You’re very good at dealing with things like that.”

  “Well,” he said laughing, “It’s nice to know I’m good at something.”

  “Oh, you’re good at lots of things,” Emily said admiringly.

  They arrived at the resort hotel just in time to take a walk on the beach at sunset. Emily had never seen the sunset at the beach before. The red and orange glow reminded her of the fires she and Brian had enjoyed last winter. But more than anything to be seen, it was what she heard that appealed to her; what she loved was the sound of the waves. Such a beautiful noise, she thought, and it has been going on just like this for ages too great to count. Through every minute of man’s existence on the planet, through all the music man has written, through all the tumult of war, through every noisy time of celebration, through every quiet time of mourning, this sound was here. All the noise that man has made, she thought, cannot begin to compare with the great, constant music of God. She said to Brian, “I think the waves hitting the shore must be one of God’s favorite songs.”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way. I guess there are some sounds that are musical, that affect people as much if not more than the music we intentionally make for that purpose. I thi
nk rain hitting the roof is like that. And the sound that leaves make when you walk through them in the fall.”

  “And the wind makes beautiful sounds sometimes, I’m sure that’s music to God.”

  “And the sound of Emily’s voice, that’s music.” He smiled at her warmly.

  By this time they had turned and were near the hotel entrance again. It had grown dark, and there was a chill in the wind as it swept around them. Even so, they hesitated to go in. For no specific reason, it was a moment they wanted to savor, to make last. Any vacation that includes even one such moment is time well spent. This trip was to be full of them.

  They enjoyed a delicious seafood meal in the restaurant of the hotel. There was not a large crowd, as the peak of the season was well behind them. They, of course, preferred it this way. Emily joked that they were just anti-social. It was true that she had always been uncomfortable in crowded places, but for Brian, it was simply a factor of numbers. The more people there were, the more eyes. He had gotten over the idea that people invariably stare at anyone who is different, but he did notice that people who caught sight of his limbs often took a second look. And his limp made it difficult to maneuver in tightly crowded spaces. It was just simpler for him to avoid being around lots of people.

  After their meal, they adjourned to Brian’s room, which had a separate sitting room with a balcony. They kept the sliding glass door ajar so they could hear the sounds of the sea while they talked. In the back of Emily’s mind there were certain fears that she knew were probably irrational and so she didn’t air them. One of these was the fear that after having spent so much of their relationship talking, they would someday run out of things to talk about. Of course, she knew, they sometimes just sat together in the quiet. It is the true test of a friendship when two people are perfectly comfortable to sit quietly together and feel no compulsion to fill the air with their voices.