Beloved Lives

by Evans, Marilyn

  * * *

  By a quarter to six they had managed to make April, in Trish’s opinion, barely presentable and had driven to the university campus. Finding a parking place took longer than expected. Eventually, they settled on a spot in a metered lot but didn’t drop in any coins, figuring the parking would be free on a late Sunday afternoon. April hadn’t been on the campus in years, so she wasn’t sure what the current parking policy was, but in her memory, the campus cops were enthusiastic in their use of ticket books. Trish was willing to take the chance with only eight minutes until the class started.

  “I think the building is over there across the quad,” April said, pointing the way toward a stately, brick-and-stone structure on the opposite side of a grassy expanse.

  Once out of the heat and inside the air-conditioned building, they walked up and down the halls, checking against a reminder on Trish’s phone for the room number where the class was supposed to meet. Finally, Trish pointed toward the correct room.

  “I have to hit the ladies. Don’t go in without me,” Trish said as she waved toward the restrooms and rushed in.

  April thought maybe the black bean burger was disagreeing with her friend.

  “Hi. You here for the class?” Leaning against the wall next to the classroom door, the guy asking, in April’s opinion, was fairly fine. Milk-chocolate eyes, not too tall, not too hairy but with a nice mustache. Best of all, not too young. Some of the kids she’d seen heading toward the classroom as she and Trish were wandering the halls had looked below the legal age of consent.

  “Uh, yeah. My girlfriend and I thought we might meet some guys here.” April did an inward cringe. Did that just come out of my mouth?

  He was grinning. It was a nice grin, not too toothy. “So, you’re not a big fan of psychic phenomena?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Could be fun. For some laughs. You know.” If she was going to put her foot in her mouth, at least she was wearing tasty new sandals.

  “Hope you enjoy it. I might see you after. Some of us go from here to the coffeehouse on Broadway.” His grinned became wicked. “You might meet some guys there.”

  He turned and walked into the classroom as Trish was coming out of the bathroom.

  “Did you just meet the instructor? He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”

  “That’s the instructor?” Her face burning, April grabbed Trish’s arm and tried to pull her toward the exit. “We’re leaving.”

  “Oh, no, we’re not.” With both height and weight on April, Trish dragged her into the classroom.

  April gave up the struggle when everyone in the room turned to look at them.

  Because all the backrow seats were already full, the two late arrivals were forced to take seats in the first row, directly in front of the instructor. April tried to look anywhere but at the guy standing at the lectern.

  Once everyone was settled, he started right in.

  “Welcome to Psychic Phenomena. If you’re signed up for Real Estate Investing, that’s down the hall in room 107.”

  A small man with neck tattoos stood up and left the room. As soon as he was gone, the instructor continued.

  “I’m Mitch van der Waals. And, yes, we’re distantly related.”

  Looking around, April could tell only a few of the people in the room understood that he was referring to the Dutch theoretical physicist who, among other things, described the molecular interactions that bore his name. That made her feel a little less like an idiot. Mitch smiled at her, and she smiled back.

  “I’m sure you’re asking yourselves what qualifies me to teach this class. Or maybe not. Well, I have a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in psychology with some of my course work and research in parapsychological studies. I’m a member of the Parapsychological Association, an organization founded by J.B. Rhine in 1957 for the purpose of advancing the science of the field. I’m familiar with the topics I’m going to be talking about on both an academic and a practical level.”

  April wondered what he meant by that, but she assumed he’d explain at some point.

  Mitch continued. “So…what are psychic phenomena? Well, in a rough general alphabetical order, they would include”—he held up his hand and counted off on his fingers—“one, clairvoyance and precognition; two, hauntings and other apparitional experiences; three near death experiences and other evidence of life after death; four, psychokinesis; five, reincarnation; and finally, telepathy. Mind you, that’s not an all-inclusive list, but it’s enough to get us started.

  “If you don’t know what some of those things are, don’t worry. That’s why we’re here. Ostensibly.”

  He smiled at April, and she covered her laugh with a hand over her mouth.

  “So how old are psychic phenomena? As old as the human race, many people insist, though perhaps even older if you believe some of the studies with non-human primates. But certainly, as old as writing. Ghosts and divination appear in ancient literature from many cultures. Pliny the Younger wrote about a haunting in a house in ancient Athens. Sacred writing from many of the world’s religions make mention of reincarnation and life after death. Precognition and divination are referenced extensively in anthropological studies and religious literature, their use being ways to interpret the will of the gods.

  “But what about nowadays? What does modern science have to say about these phenomena? That’s one of the things we’ll cover over the next few weeks.”

  Their teacher proceeded to give them a rundown of psychic research from 1882 to the present. April found it far more fascinating than she had expected. The hour and a half class was nearly over before she realized the time had passed.

  “And just for fun,” Mitch added, wrapping up, “during the last half hour of each class we’ll try some of the techniques that have been used to study psychic phenomena.”

  Some of the attendees broke into happy chatter. This apparently was why they had come to the class.

  After giving a brief overview of upcoming topics, Mitch brought the class to a close. Immediately, several of the students surged out of their seats and surrounded him like he was a rock star, crowding April and Trish in their front row chairs.

  Trish pulled April out of the fray. “That was kind of fun. You ready to go home? You must be beat.”

  “Well, actually, Mitch said that sometimes people from the classes meet afterward at the coffeehouse on Broadway,” April said casually, doing her best to look all innocence.

  Trish raised an eyebrow, looked from April to the instructor still surrounded by students—most of them teen-aged girls—and said, “All righty, then. Coffeehouse it is.”

  Because Trish and April could not quite remember where—out of the many places they had tried to park—they actually eventually had parked, they took a while finding the car. Parking near the coffeehouse was less difficult, but the place was crowded by the time they walked in.

  Apparently, other classes also had adjourned to the coffeehouse, filling it with a diverse crowd engaged in lively discussions. The man with the neck tattoos was at a crowded table, sipping something tall and iced with whipped cream on top. Miraculously, two seats were open at the table where Mitch was sitting, and he waved them over.

  “What do you want? I’ll fly if you buy,” Trish said, putting her purse on the seat to hold it but not sitting down.

  “Skinny decaf latte, please,” April said, handing Trish a twenty. “I want change.”

  “Maybe. I tip, you know, and the barista looks kind of cute.” Trish steamed away through the crowd to place their orders, waving the bill as she went.

  “So, hi. Good class. I enjoyed it,” April said, feeling slightly uncomfortable now that she was actually face to face with Mitch.

  “I’m glad. I hope you’ll come for the rest of the classes.” Mitch sipped his coffee.

  “Oh, we plan to.” April was quiet for a minute. “Look, I’m sorry I’m such a doofus sometimes. I didn’t mean to insult you or anything.”

  Mi
tch laughed. “No problem. People come to Communiversity classes for all kinds of reasons. Everyone is welcome, no matter what their agenda.”

  “Thanks,” April said, returning his smile. “Do you ever teach this at the regular university?”

  “No. While I was getting my degree in psychology, I studied a lot of parapsychology, like I said in class, but I work for a testing agency doing psych evaluations and personality tests, that sort of thing. It pays better than the university does, and I avoid departmental politics that way. What do you do?” he asked.

  “I work in a hospital.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  April laughed. “Most people ask if I’m a nurse. Actually, I’m a med tech. Work with blood, urine, precious bodily fluids.”

  “Dr. Strangelove fan, too?”

  “Most people don’t get that reference. You must be a movie buff.”

  “More a pop culture buff,” Mitch said.

  “Here’s your latte, my dear.” Trish put the cup on the table in front of April. “And your change. The barista wasn’t that cute close up. I’m going over to say hi to Ravenna. I didn’t realize she was going to be here. I’ll be back.”

  As Mitch watched Trish walk away, he said, “She’s sort of a force of nature, isn’t she?”

  April’s heart sank. Trish was striking and tall and abundant, April much less so. But after watching Trish as so many people did, Mitch turned back and gave April his full attention. They proceeded to talk about past and present television programs near and dear to their hearts, bands they admired, movies they’d seen or hoped to see, and the books they were reading or were likely to read in the near future. When Trish showed up again and said the place was closing, April realized she had been so engrossed in her conversation with Mitch that she hadn’t noticed the coffeehouse was nearly empty.

  As they stood to leave, Mitch leaned in to April, close enough that she could feel his breath stirring the hair near her ear and the lightest tickle of his mustache.

  “Do you suppose before class next week I could take you to dinner?” he asked.

  April’s stomach moved in an unexpected direction.

  “I’ll probably be coming with Trish,” she said, stepping back from him a little to see his reaction. She felt a guilty pleasure in seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

  “But I’m free on Saturday,” she quickly added, because she never wanted anyone to be unhappy, especially really cute guys who asked her out. The smile she got in response made her stomach move in the other direction and her heart skipped along for the ride.

  Mitch and April exchanged all necessary contact information with him promising to call before the weekend to arrange the details. On the way home Trish got a blow by blow of Mitch and April's conversation, with Trish interrupting frequently with questions and exclamations.

  “Oh,” Trish said as she pulled into April’s drive, “Ravenna wanted to know what night we planned to do Shakespeare.” Trish was referring to their gang of girlfriends' annual expedition to the Heartland Shakespeare Festival.

  “Not sure. I’ll see when the folks at work are free. We’ve still got a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Yup. Maybe you should consider inviting your new beau.”

  “We have not yet determined that he is a beau. Besides, Will in the Park is a girls-only event, or at least, it has been up until now.”

  “We could make an exception. He is decorative.”

  “First, let me see how Saturday goes.”

  * * *

  As April got ready for bed, she gave Winston a full recap of her evening, even though he wasn’t much interested. She rewarded him with some canned cat food for not interrupting or judging.

  Chapter 4. Workin’for a Livin’

  That night, April slept long, deeply, and without dreams, but in the morning, she woke with a crushing weight on her chest, and a black mass obscuring her eyesight and blocking her mouth and nose.

  “Winston, for Pete’s sake,” April said from underneath the cat lying on her chest.

  Usually, the black behemoth slept at the foot of her bed and only got clingy on the Fourth of July and during thunderstorms. Today, the sun was shining in through the bedroom window, and nothing was exploding. April managed to wiggle out from under his vast bulk and breathe again.

  “What’s wrong, buddy? Something going on with you? You feeling okay?”

  Winston meowed forlornly. He hadn’t sounded like this since he last threw up. She hoped he wouldn’t barf on the bed.

  “Did you get into something bad? Do I need to take you to the vet?”

  April ran her hands over him, looking for signs of anything alarming. Winston licked his shoulder once, hopped down from the bed, and trotted toward his food bowl.

  “Faker. I think you’re just jealous I have a new friend.”

  April glanced at her alarm clock.

  “Crap! Winston, why didn’t you tell me I forgot to set the alarm?”

  She jumped out of bed and frantically ran through her Monday morning routine.

  * * *

  As it turned out, April got to work only five minutes late.

  “Hey, party girl. I thought you weren’t going make it in today.” Judith, the lab manager, was a handsome black woman with an air of no-nonsense professionalism but also a good sense of fun.

  She handed April the schedule for the week. “You okay with histology today? Not too hung over to spend the day looking through a microscope?”

  “I'll have you know the only thing I drank last night was a decaf latte,” April said in her best imitation of righteous indignation, “and, yes, I'm fine with histo.”

  “My, aren't we virtuous?”

  “You have no idea. I started running again. And I'm taking a class. And I met someone.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with our April? Dish the dirt, girl. Who, what, when, where?”

  “All in good time. I must labor to earn my pittance.” April pulled her lab coat on over her scrubs.

  “If you don't spill by lunchtime, I won't tell you the latest gossip about the new staff member.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Not a word. Lunch at noon for an exchange of gossip hostages?”

  “Yes, ma'am. You are, after all, the boss.”

  * * *

  The morning passed quickly, and April was late for lunch. Judith was waiting patiently in the cafeteria at a table by the windows, looking out on the summer-green park across from the hospital, a tray full of mouthwatering comfort food in front of her. April had opted for the fresh fruit and vegetable plate with yogurt and a rustic-looking hunk of freshly baked, whole-grain bread.

  “Sorry I’m late. There were some slides that looked kind of weird. I wanted a second pair of eyes on them. Gabby agreed with me, but you might want to take a look, as well.”

  “Sure, right after lunch. Are they Doc Steiner’s?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to take any chances.” April bit into the bread and was glad she’d gotten it. It was slathered with evil, golden butter, making her life bliss as it spread over her tongue in a warm, delicious slick.

  “So,” Judith said, picking up her fork, “tell me all about your weekend.”

  April did, only omitting the part about the dream, something she still didn’t talk about outside of her family, which, naturally, included Winston and Trish.

  “Now it's your turn,” April said, encouraging her boss and polishing off the last of her fruit.

  Judith pushed her tray aside, obviously relishing her chance to share the news. “New guy in cardiology. Big shot from Mayo. Apparently, he's got scads of publications and collaborations. No one can figure out what they offered him to get him here or why he came. With a reputation like his, he could go anywhere, yet here he is. And he's supposed to be so hot he wears asbestos scrubs.”

  “This superhero got a name?”

  “Weston. Doctor Winston Weston.”

  Iced tea came out April's nose.
She choked and laughed until she was sure her face was beet-colored, and she was gasping for air.

  “What's so funny?” Judith asked, frowning.

  “Winston Weston? Did his parents hate him? And Winston? Really? That's my cat's name.” She started giggling again. “I'm sorry. I just keep mentally picturing my cat in scrubs and rubbing up against all the ‘laydees’.”

  Judith laughed. “Thanks very much for that mental picture. Now we're both going to act like idiots every time we hear this guy's name.”

  “Have you seen the hottie yet?”

  “Only from a distance.” Judith picked up her tray and headed toward the conveyor belt.

  “And did he live up to the hype?” April picked up her tray and followed.

  “Far as I could tell. Too early to say.”

  Both women put their trash in one bin, the recycling in another, then put the trays and dishes on the belt that took them to the kitchen.

  “I think Doc Steiner is going to bring him around for a tour sometime this week,” Judith said as they headed back to the lab. “We should get to meet the new kid then if not before.”

  * * *

  April’s week was busier than usual with all the histology samples she was processing, so she didn’t have an opportunity to wander the hospital halls on her breaks. Even though she went to lunch in the cafeteria every day, managing to remain faithful to her healthy new eating habits all the while, she did not once see the famous Dr. Weston. Still, she heard plenty about him including a rumor that one of the surgery nurses was already planning their wedding. Gossip flowed like the Missouri River in flood stage.

  “He’s never been married?”

  “That would make him gay.”

  “Trust me. He’s not gay. Or he’s the greatest actor in the world.”

  April didn't bother to point out that gay people got married these days.

  Then there were the speculations about why he had come to Kansas City.