Chapter 35

 

Saturday morning was unbelievably cold and sunny. The wind blew the car as they drove passed the new football stadium on Route 3 as they made their way into New York City. They drove into a place called Sculpture Supply. Zoe was effervescent. She was bouncing up and down on the seat of the car before they even went into the place. Ron was thrilled to see her so happy and delighted.

“The sculpture is already in the stone,” she told him as they wandered down the aisles that were like nothing Ron had ever seen before. There were heavy wooden racks and placed on them were pieces of rock. There were no labels, no prices. The understanding was that if you were shopping there, you knew what you were doing. Ron listened to her carefully as she spoke but he didn’t look at her. His eyes were drawn to the rocks. He ran his hands over them. He stared at them from different angles. Zoe craned her neck to look at them from the top. “I love to work with marble. I think it is my favorite thing.”

“More than painting?”

“Yes,” she said dreamily, “much more than painting.”

And then she stopped and stood very still. She was looking at a piece of white alabaster. It lay on its side and was rough all around. She rubbed her hands on her thighs before she touched it. Ron stood back from her and watched. She called someone over and they talked about the stone.

It was alabaster. It weighed 48 pounds.  She could take it with her. She could afford it.  Then Zoe began to cry. Ron looked at her with astonishment. Why was she crying? What had just happened?

“Zoe, is something wrong?”

She had her fist clenched tightly to her mouth and Ron could see that she was biting herself. Her body was trembling. “Everything is wrong,” she said. “Everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I doing here?” she said. She looked at him as if it was his fault that they were in this place. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Zoe, you asked me to bring you here.”

“But why did you?” She stepped back from the stone and looked at him accusingly and then she turned on her heel and headed for the door. Ron stood there feeling completely helpless and confused. He felt the eyes of other people in the shop looking at him. There was the feeling of accusation that was coming from them. Then he started after her and caught up with her on the street alongside the car. He reached out and took her shoulders and turned her to him. Her face was scrunched and red. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and had pooled up in back of her glasses. Ron could see the light refracting on the tears in back of the lenses.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“That stone is beautiful. It is perfect and I have no place to work on it. I don’t have the right tools to work on it. I need more training to be able to do what I want to do with it and I am stuck here. I need a studio and all I have is a pad and pastels.”

“But didn’t you know all that before we came here?”

She slapped his face hard. He felt his neck snap when she hit him. And then she was turning and walking down to the street. The wind blew her hair to the side. Ron stood there motionless. He could not recall ever being slapped in the face before. Maybe he should just get into the car and drive away. He couldn’t do that! And then he was jogging down the sidewalk after her. She heard him and saw him and then bolted. She was running full speed and Ron knew instantly that there was no way that he could catch her. He stopped running and watched as she reached the corner and then turned to the left and was gone.

He went back to the car and got in and turned on the engine. He was shivering. He was angry. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sat there thinking that he had given up the chance to take Robin to the airport for this.

A long time passed and then he got out of the car and looked around to see if he could spot her. He did not see her wedged into a doorway with her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking from the uncontrollable crying that wracked through her body. She told herself that she was being stupid. She told herself to get up and go to the car but she couldn’t seem to move. She waited for his car to pull out and leave but it didn’t. He turned off the engine and sat there smoking a cigarette. Why was he waiting for her? Why wasn’t he just smart enough to see what she was and just leave?

She got up slowly and walked to the car. She opened the door and got in. She stared at him and waited. Without looking at her, he started the engine and began to drive back home.

She kept staring at him, waiting for him to scream at her. They went into the tunnel and when they were in the semi darkness and she could not see the face that had not taken its eyes from the road, she asked, “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

Still without looking at her, he said, “I was frightened for you.”

Ron felt like he had crossed the border back from some alien land when the car shot out of the tunnel. Jersey reassured him. He knew the rules.

When they got back to the apartment, she said, “Will you just take me to bed?

Ron said, “No.”

He opened his book bag and spread papers out on his desk and began to work. She sat in a chair in the kitchen and watched him.

End of Part 1

Chapter 34

 

Zoe was having trouble sitting as they drove down to Rahway.  Ron was smiling. That afternoon, between their repeated sessions of frenzied love-making, he told her that Robin has been back for a visit. She became frightened. “Did she take you to bed with her?”

“No.”

“Did she ask you to?”

“No,” said Ron. “She’s seeing someone.”

“Would you have fucked her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I would have understood,” said Zoe. “I know how much you love her.”

“How do you know that?” Ron was more than amazed at her reaction. He was expecting tears and recriminations. He was almost unable to believe her reaction.

“Ron, I knew that she was coming. That’s why I ran away.”

Ron wanted to ask how she knew, but something inside of him said that he was better off to just let it go and for the first time that he could remember, he did. Zoe was squirming on the seat next to him but he could tell that she was happy. She had her sketch pad and her pastels with her. She told him that she was looking forward to a chance to do some drawings of Rahway.

The house was brightly lit. Cars filled the gravel driveway and Ron had to back out again and park on the street, so that he didn’t block anyone in. They went up the drive and to the back door. The bells over the door jingled as they entered.  Neil Diamond’s Longfellow Serenade was playing on the stereo.  They walked into the kitchen and there was Kelly, a very pretty girl with impossibly long red hair. It hung straight and meticulously manicured down to her waist. Ron knew her well. They had been Warren’s students together. Kelly hadn’t liked him since he had dumped one of her girlfriends and the girl, despondent over Ron being the first man to fuck her, had tried to kill herself. Ron always felt tense around Kelly but he smiled and said, “Hi Kelly. I’d like you to meet Zoe.”

Zoe stood there in her jeans holding her pad and pastels and Kelly looked over at her without really acknowledging Ron and said, “Hi.  I’m just trying to figure out how this over works. I’ve never seen one this old before.”

Zoe put her things down on the counter and said, “Let me help.”

And then the two of them were kneeling down and looking inside and turning knobs. Ron stared for an instant at the way that Kelly’s hair and Zoe’s hair intertwined and then he walked down the single step into the living room.

The white washed fireplace was blazing and pine branches had been laid across the top of the split flue mantle. There were six people seated on cushions drawn up close to the flames in a semi-circle, all turned in and facing the burning wood. All of their heads seemed to swivel at the same time.

Warren called out, “Hey Ron, how are you?” in his unmistakable drawl.

Laureen’s eyes flashed dark in the flames when she saw him. “Hi Ron, happy holidays.”

Julian T. Willy said with his unmistakable sarcasm. “Well, now the evening will surely get more interesting.”

April’s smile was soft and radiant and she stood when she saw Ron and came to him and hugged him to her. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you. It’s really good to see you.”

Ron embraced her with delight and surprise. He held her at arm’s length and said. “You look great April. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Come sit by the fire,” said Warren. “We have just been talking about the year gone by.”

“Did you bring Chris, or is someone else marching in your bimbo parade these days?” said Julian, who was now openly gay and never passed up a chance to make some sexual reference to Ron and Chris’s friendship.

Laureen laughed and said, “Julian, make some attempt to be civil.”

Julian, with a flourish threw his scarf around his neck and over his shoulder, “What? I can’t have fun with the entertainment? Please tell me that it is why you invited him, Warren and that it was not some misplaced notion of a contribution to the conversation other than that of comic relief.”

Laureen laughed again and said, “Julian you are so funny when you are drunk.”

“Zoe is in the kitchen with Kelly,” he said.

“The boardwalk portrait painter?” said Julian.

Laureen slapped him playfully and stood up to go and greet Zoe in the kitchen.

Ron sat down cross-legged opposite Warren and Julian. April curled in next to him. “No,” said Ron. “I didn’t bring Chris, but I have his number if you want to give him a call and see if he still loves you, Julian.”

“Be nice,” said Warren. “Now, you were about to tell us what you thought was the most important thing that happened this year, Julian”

“The most intriguing event of the year has been the death of Nadezhda Kashina” said Julian.

Ron had no idea who he was talking about. Warren and April seemed to know. “Who is that?”

“Someone far beyond your ability to comprehend,” said Julian.

Warren drawled, “And what event has your imagination Ron?”

Ron thought that Warren had no idea who he was anymore but played the I’m current on Events of the Day game “I’d say that it was what Sadat has done,” said Ron.

Warren smiled. “I thought that you would have said Carter’s pardon.”

“I think it’s been a dull year,” said April.

Kelly and Zoe and Laureen walked into the living room and announced that the oven was hopeless, but that they had things under control. Warren asked if they wanted him to take a look at it, but Kelly assured him that it was fine and sat between his legs and kissed him. Zoe put her hands on Ron’s shoulders and then knelt alongside of him to avoid sitting on the wooden floor. Everyone said hello to Zoe. Ron was tense and thought that if Julian made one insulting crack about her that he could easily strangle him in his scarf.

“For me,” said Warren, “the death of Gary Gilmore is symbolic. It displays an entirely new level of marketing death that is dangerous for our culture.”

“As if we weren’t already marketing death,” said Ron.

“The work of Vicente Aleixandre,” said Laureen.

“You really do like him, don’t you?” said Warren.

“He’s amazing,” said Laureen.

Again, Ron did not know who they were talking about. He would ask Laureen about him later, outside of Julian’s earshot.

“What do you think is the most significant event this year, Kelly?”

Kelly moved her head from side to side to make her incredible long hair shimmer and then she said smiling, “Being with you.”

Everyone laughed and Kelly blushed. Warren reached over her shoulder and squeezed her right breast. “That’s deflecting the question.”

“Warren, you fool, the woman just said that she loved you. Take it with a simple smile and treat her well,” said Laureen.

Everyone laughed again and Kelly slid down to rest her head on Warren’s lap. Then Warren turned his gaze on Zoe. “And what would be your answer?”

“The light reflecting off of a lake that I saw in New York State. The way that the colors blended into the water and made it seem like a large diamond.”

“Costume jewelry,” said Julian.

“What was it really for you Julian, the bath houses?” asked Ron.

Julian stiffened. “I go to the bath houses as a political statement.”

Laureen laughed. “Not at all for all the naked bodies, I know.”

Ron stared at the fire. He hadn’t done it when he had first walked into the room. The immediacy and emotional reaction to the people there had held his attention. But now the fire was reaching for him again and he was giving himself to it. The flames waved to him like another old friend. The fire smiled at him. In a wicked kind of way, the fire laughed at him. Ron held the gaze of the flames. The sounds of the people’s voices faded. The fire wanted to talk to him, to tell him something, but he had to blot out the distractions first. He was being pulled closer to the flames; he felt the heat on his face. The fire was chanting. “Mine, mine.”

He felt Zoe take his hand and squeeze it but he didn’t respond. He wanted to dance with the fire. He wanted to help the fire claim what she owned. And then there was Zoe’s voice in his ear. “Ron, are you alright?”

He looked away from the flames and into her face. She was staring at him and brushing his hair with her fingers. The rest of the people in the room were looking at him.  He looked back into Zoe’s face and the fire was dancing on her glasses waving to him and laughing. Ron tried to laugh but it came out like a grunt. “I guess I just zoned out there for a little while.”

Julian’s eyes were filled with glee. Kelly was staring at him with a distant curiosity. April hadn’t looked at him since Zoe had come into the room. Warren drew in on his pipe and Ron saw the embers glow.

Laureen laughed and said, “I asked you if you had seen Robin.”

“Oh,” said Ron. “Yes, I saw her. She’s doing well. She’s learning to make paper.”

At dinner, Warren returned to the earlier topics. He wanted his guests to think about what they had chosen as significant events from the perspective of whether those events were going to change the lives of the people seated around the oval shaped, oak table. He looked at each one of them. In his opinion, only Kelly and Zoe had brought up events that were truly significant. Of course he did not mention his references to Gary Gilmore, but he was getting to it. “What I’m working at here,” said Warren, “is to come to an understanding of why this avant garde painter or this Nobel Prize winning author are important to you personally. What significance will the Sadat visit really have? I can understand why someone would think that a relationship is important. Or why someone would think that a particular experience was important.” He gave Zoe a smile of acknowledgement. “But why these other things?”

Laureen giggled again. “Of course Warren is conveniently leaving out his personal interest in Gary Gilmore.”

“Not at all,” said Lashly pointedly. “My interest is in the way that the culture responded to the execution. I’m trying to discover why this is a culture that has found itself distracted by the macabre. And that is of some importance to me, both personally and as a member of the culture.”

Julian T. Willy stood. “Well on that happy note, I do think that I will be going.” The announcement startled the table. They were in the middle of the meal.

Laureen and Kelly both said, “Julian stay,” in a harmony that if no one knew better would have sounded rehearsed and almost like the chorus of a song. But Julian was on his feet. He kissed Laureen and Kelly on the cheek. Thanked Warren for inviting him over.

But Lashly wasn’t ready to see him go. “I can understand you feeling uncomfortable with this conversation, Julian. But it’s not going where you think that it is.”

Julian smiled and brought his heels together with an audible click. He looked down at Warren and said, “What I think is that I graduated from college some time ago.”

“I don’t think that you really want to leave,” said Warren.

Julian walked in long, stiff legged strides to the door with his arms held straight down and immobile. Putting on his jacket and saying, “Ho, ho, ho,” he was gone. The bells over the door jingled as an after-effect.

Ron watched and thought there was something admirable about Julian’s actions. He had always been a fan of fast exits.

Warren clasped his hands together and leaned forward on the table. “He was not ready to have this conversation. My guess is that he felt too exposed.”

“Maybe it was us, Warren. Julian hasn’t been around for a long time and I’m sure that it wasn’t easy for him to come here tonight,” said Laureen. “He doesn’t love this place the way that we do. It holds some bad memories for him.”

Ron spoke up. “We all have some bad memories to deal with Laureen. It’s how we handle them that makes the difference.”

“Not everyone is as hard as you are Ron,” said Warren. “Laureen is right. I pushed him too hard. “

Ron wondered what the hell that they were talking about. No one had pushed Julian at all from what he could see. It seemed to Ron that he just didn’t want to spend another evening as Warren’s student. Then Ron wondered what he was doing there. He had his own students now and he was certain that he wasn’t going to ever sleep with any of them or pry into their personal lives for his own satisfaction the way that Warren did. But maybe they all wanted him to pry into their lives. Maybe they all thought that he had some of the answers about themselves that they were yet to discover. Maybe Warren saw them all as lab rats. Maybe he saw himself as giving everything that he had in his life to his students. He was surely not shy about taking some things back. The truth was that every one of them around the table, with the possible exception of Zoe, knew exactly what the story was with this guy, especially Ron.

“What happened to you a while back in there?” said Warren looking at Ron. “You looked like you were in some kind of a trance? Have you been smoking or taking something?”

“No, I just caught up staring at the fire,” said Ron.

“You’re sure that was it?”

“Yeah, it’s the first time that I have been around an open fire since the apartment burned up.”

Laureen said, “I think that Ron has a whole lot on his mind these days.”

The dinner table was lit by candles after Kelly and Zoe cleared the dishes. April and Laureen watched them but Ron got up and helped. They carried dishes down the galley style kitchen to the sink and then returned for more. Zoe managed to brush against Ron each time that they passed each other. Kelly never looked at him and seemed a bit annoyed by his nearness.

Then they all settled back to the table and Ron lit a cigarette.

Warren said, “So how’s the teaching going?”

“I never expected to love it this much, Warren. I didn’t understand how I would feel responsible for them.”

“You have to let that go,” said Warren. “You aren’t responsible for them and you can’t teach them anything that they aren’t ready to learn.”

“They need to learn to read and write. They are ready for that and that’s what I’m concentrating on. It’s interesting to see their language skills develop. And I do believe that it will help them immensely in their lives to be able to read and write well.”

“Only if they want it to help them,” said Warren.

Laureen said, “And how are the nuns?” She giggled after asking the question.

April’s eyes got bigger in the light. “You are working at a Catholic school? With nuns?”

“I know, “said Ron. “ I know. But they’re just people, ya know. Mostly they are very good people.”

“And what do they think of you?” said April.

“I don’t know,” said Ron.

“They are going to put him in charge of discipline,” said Zoe.

Laureen was in mid swallow of a glass of diet pepsi and began to choke and laugh at the same time.  The soda went up her nose and she held a napkin to her face and choked while she turned red and laughed. Ron laughed too and Warren smiled.

April said, “I just can’t picture you around nuns.”

Zoe said, “Ron is the most sexual person that I ever met. Do you think that they pick up on that?”

Before they left, April said, “Will you call me? I really have missed talking with you.” Ron said that he would.

As they drove home, Zoe snuggled into him and said, “It’s exciting to be there.”

Ron smiled. “Why did you find it exciting?”

“I don’t know. It made me feel like I was at the center of things. And when Warren asked me questions at the table, it was embarrassing but at the same time it made me feel important. Like I was speaking and what I had to say mattered.”

“I know what you mean,” said Ron.

“You and Warren are a lot alike.”

Ron felt himself tense when she said that. “Why do you think that?”

“You’re both very strong and very smart. And you both know how to get what you want. Why doesn’t Kelly like you?”

“It’s a long story. I used to date one of her friends”

“She told me to be careful of you.”

“That was nice of her.”

“I didn’t care what she said. I told her that I thought you and Warren are alike and she agreed but then said ‘not in a good way though.’”

Ron felt himself getting angry. Julian had been right.

 

Chapter 33

 

Ron drove up to fetch Zoe from her house about noon the next day. This time she did not come bounding out as he pulled up. He turned the car off and walked up to the door. When he rang the bell, Zoe’s mother answered.

Donna Savron was a short woman with shoulder length brown hair. She was round and full and had a sense of the voluptuous about her. She did not smile as she extended her hand towards Ron and said, “Well, it’s nice to finally get to meet you. Usually Zoe just runs out of the house. She sits here by the window and watches for your car and then she is gone. We have been wondering if there was something so strange about you that she doesn’t want to give us the chance to get a look at you.”

Ron didn’t know what to say to that. He took her hand and found it warm and dry. He looked down at it and saw traces of paint smeared on her fingers. He smiled into her face and said, “I hope that you had a good holiday.”

The woman seemed surprised at the comment and took at step back. She turned to the side so that Ron could see the room. “Come in for a few moments, Ron. I’d like you to meet my husband.”

Paul Savron was seated in an easy chair in his study. The TV was not playing. Dark framed glasses were laying closed on top of a book that was resting in his lap. Ron tried to get a look at the title. He read ETHICAL PERSPECTIVES ON BUSINESS AND SOCIETY and immediately lost interest. He stuck out his hand and said, “Ron Tuck, nice to meet you.”

Pavel looked at his hand and then up to Ron’s face. It seemed to Ron that he took his hand reluctantly and shook it. Ron thought that he had felt cold and a bit weak. “Glad to finally meet you,” said Savron.

Ron thought that both of them said that with a hint of accusation in their voices. He wondered where Zoe was. It wasn’t like her to keep him waiting like this. “What is it that you do for a living Ron?”

“I’m a teacher,” said Ron.

“Yes,” said Savron. He nodded his white haired head slowly. “In a Catholic girls’ school, isn’t that right?

“Yes,” said Ron.

“In Newark, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” said Ron.

“Is that what you intend to do?” said Savron.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ron answered.

It was then that Zoe burst into the room. She did not run to Ron and put her arms around him. She stayed in the doorway smiling and nervous. She looked between her father and Ron.

“Come in Zoe,” said Savron. Ron felt like he was giving her permission to enter the room and that she had been standing there waiting for it. “Ron and I have just been getting to know each other.”

“What is it that you do Paul?” said Ron.

Ron watched as Savron absorbed the question. Then, still without answering he looked at Zoe. With his eyes still on his daughter, he said “I’m an account executive for Standard Brands.”

Ron crossed the room to Zoe and took her into his arms and kissed her. Zoe molded her body into him for the kiss and then seemed to stiffen and pull back.

“I was on the phone with Laureen,” she said. “They want us to go down there for dinner tonight.”

In the car, when they got into the corner, Zoe reached over and put her hand between his legs. She squeezed him with one hand and she waved goodbye to the house with the other. Ron could see her smiling and her sisters waving down from one of the upstairs rooms. They were waving and smiling too.

Zoe said, “I thought you handled that really well.”

“Handled what?” said Ron.

“My father,” said Zoe.

“I was only there for a few minutes,” Ron said.

“Wasn’t that enough?” she answered.

Her fingers were caressing between his legs and he was as hard as heated wood. “You better stop that or it’s gonna happen right in my pants, sad Ron. “I’m really horny.”

Zoe giggled. “I’m glad that you are. I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“They do know that we are living together, don’t they?” said Ron.

“My mother does.”

“What about your father?”

“We haven’t talked about it.”

Ron looked at her and did not understand. “What do you mean? Where does he think that you sleep at night?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” she said again and shrugged. “I suppose my mom has told him.

When they got back to their apartment, Zoe knelt down and undid his belt, but instead of unzipping his pants, she pulled the belt from around his waist. “I want you to punish me for running away so that I learn to not do it again,” she said. The she turned on all fours unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down to her thighs and held up her bare ass for him and waited.

Ron wasn’t sure that he wanted to whip her with his belt. But there she was and she was waiting. It was what she expected of him. She folded her hands over the back of her head and said, “Please don’t hurt me too much.”

 

Chapter 32

Moths fly to the light and batter themselves against the glass that keeps them away. Flowers stay open to the sun, oblivious as to whether or not it is burning them. Ron wondered if he was like those things as he drove down the parkway. His plan was to pick up Robin and ask her if she wanted to go to Rahway for the traditional Thanksgiving gathering. He had called Zoe, but her family had not yet had dinner and she was sure that it would be at least midday on Friday before she would be able to get out of there. She was excited that he had called her at home. “I’ve been thinking about it and I know now more than ever before that I love you, Ron. I think about you all the time and I have been drawing you from memory. I know that I want to have babies with you.”

Ron blushed on the other end of the line. He did not tell her that he loved her just then. He had never told her that he loved her. He had never told her that he wanted to have babies with her. Robin had always made it clear that she didn’t want children and this had appealed to Ron. He thought that world should learn how to take care of the people that were already here before creating a bunch of new ones. He didn’t need the trophy babies to assure himself. He’d told Robin that he would call her the next day and drive up to get her.

He wanted to sit in front of the fire in the living room at Rahway and talk. He wanted to feel Robin sitting next to him and to talk to her afterwards about what people had said and get her perspective. He loved Rahway. He loved it, as much as he loved Robin, she would have said that he loved it more. But both Robin and Rahway had rejected him and there he was trying to crawl back like a dog that had been kicked away from the fire. He wanted to know what he could do so.  That he wasn’t rejected. He wanted to be who they wanted him to be so that they would love him as much as he loved them.

Sure they just would have said that he was supposed to be himself. Ron laughed out loud in the empty car at this thought. People were always telling him to be himself, except that when he was himself, they always sent him away. It occurred to Ron just then that he was probably more himself with his students than he was with anyone else. They didn’t send him away. They embraced him. They wanted more and more of him. Sometimes they wanted too much of him, like when they asked him if he ever tried LSD or Marijuana.  Ron had given them the evasive answer, “I always wanted to be in control of myself.” And part of that was true. It was what he disliked about tripping. But he didn’t feel that he lost control when he smoked pot. He felt that it helped to focus him. To bring him to that zoned in place where nothing distracted him from what was right in front of him.

“Why on earth would you possibly want to go there?” said Robin. She was looking at him with an incredulous smirk on her face. “Did they invite us to go there?”

“It’s a standing invitation,” said Ron. “Thanksgiving night at Rahway. A lot of people will just show up. Warren and Laureen expect it.”

“They aren’t expecting you and me, Ron. I guarantee you that.”

Ron felt himself slump.

“Maybe you should just go, if that’s what you really want to do.”

Ron felt that she was testing him. That phrase, “if that’s what you really want to do” was one that he’d heard before. If he said yes, she would feel that he was choosing them over her again. If he said no, she would think that he was still weak and that she could manipulate him anyway that she wanted to pull or push him. It had been a bad idea and now he was stuck with it. “I thought that maybe you’d enjoy seeing some of those people,” said Ron. “We haven’t really seen anyone since you came home. But maybe you’d rather go to a movie.”

They went to see Annie Hall. Robin had thought that a good comedy would be just the right thing. Ron had not particularly liked Woody Allen and thought that it was going to be a silly, slapstick kind of story, but he agreed. He sat there fighting back tears through almost the entire film. It was a story about Robin and him. Is this why she had wanted to go to see it? The theater was dark and crowded and she held his hand as they watched. Once she had looked at him and saw the tears rolling down his face and quickly looked away. It was sad in a silly kind of way, she thought. When the story came to the part where Woody rewrote the ending of their relationship, Robin wondered if Ron would do that with her. But he never talked about his writing anymore. It was like he had left that part of him. He was no longer the young and aspiring poet that would get up in front of crowds and read his material. Had she done that to him? Had she taken that away from him? More than likely it was all the pot that he had smoked that had done it. She wasn’t going to be blamed for that too.

Ron made sure that his face was dry by the time the houselights came up and they walked out of the movie house. “If you’d like to go to Rahway we can,” she said.

“No,” said Ron. “You were right. We didn’t have an invitation. It was an old idea.”

He was very quiet. They got into the car and waited as the de-icer cleared one of the early nighttime frosts from the windshield. He lit a cigarette. She had stopped smoking. People were lining up to see the 10 o’clock show. Ron looked at the couples and wondered if they knew that they were doomed. They didn’t kiss goodnight. They hugged.

“My father is going to take me to the airport,” she said.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you,” said Ron, “but I had this commitment.”

“You don’t need to explain,” said Robin. She walked off thinking that she hated it when he got morose.

Chapter 31

Dinner was sumptuous. It began with an antipasto. There were paper thin slices of prosciutto wrapped around small pieces of fresh melon that George had ordered from Florida. There were black and green olives and a bowl of cold shrimp. There was wet mozzarella and Swiss cheese and artichoke hearts and cold red beets. But before they began to eat, Marjorie asked Reverend Cooley to say grace.

The Coolys and the Pascals had recently returned from Africa. Reverend Cooly was a tall man who was totally bald on the top of his head but sported slicked back sides with his remaining hair. He wore silver framed glasses and Ron noticed that he had very large hands when everyone bowed their heads to pray. His wife had curly hair that was kept short. Ron thought that it looked like a bird’s nest on top of her head. Reverend Cooly wore a brown and orange plaid sports jacket that looked festive in a garish sort of way. His wife, who was only introduced as Mrs. Cooly had a patient smile glued to her face and Ron noticed that it never left. He thought that it was the kind of smile that could be described as long suffering.

Dominick Pascal was a big man, which is a polite way of saying that he was obese. Ron counted three chins. His wife Sela was very thin. Dominick was wearing a blue suit with a little American flag lapel pin that Ron noticed immediately. He wished that he had an American flag shirt and that he had worn it to piss them off.

It occurred to Ron somewhere early in the meal that these people did not particularly like Marjorie and George and that they were there as an act of Christian brotherhood. It was something about the way that they pronounced “antipasto” and keep remarking on how unusual it was to start a Thanksgiving meal with such an exotic dish.

Marjorie was oblivious to it all. She wanted to know about what it was like in Africa.  “I can tell you this Marjorie, you would never get such a fine meal as this anywhere in Africa.”

Ron looked up. “Really? You were over the entire continent?”

“Quite a bit of it,” said Dominick. “Quite a bit of it over the last six years.”

“What was it like in Egypt?” said Ron.

“We were never really up North” said Dominick. “Egypt and Africa are really two different places.”

“They are?” said Ron.

Rev. Cooley said, “Mr. Pascal is speaking culturally rather than geographically, Ron.”

Ron nodded. “So except for Egypt then is it really all the same?’

“Oh no! There are widespread differences,” said Cooley.

Mrs. Cooley added, “Some of the coastal states like South Africa are truly beautiful.”

Ron shot her a glance. “Too bad about Steve Bilko then wasn’t it?”

George laughed heartily, now on his 3^rd Manhattan and said, “Now there was a really funny man. Was his name really Bilko?”

“Do you mean Phil Silvers?” said Dominick.

“Steve Bilko just had his brains beaten out for wanting the freedom to organize the true people of South Africa,” said Ron. “He was in prison and they beat him on his head until he was dead.”

“That poor man,” said Mrs. Cooley.

George reddened and drank. Marjorie got up and cleared the dishes for the next course. Ron got up to help her. In the kitchen she whispered to Ron, “Please be nice. Please do this for me.”

Ron nodded and said that he would try.

The next course featured the roasted turkey and the stuffing that Marjorie had made for the first time outside of the bird. There was a bowl of creamed pearl onions and a long dish of candied yams. There was a large bowl of yellow turnip. Then Marjorie walked out with two more bowls. One held string beans and the other was filed with broccoli. This year they were also having fresh cranberry sauce, something that Ron had never tasted before. The table filled up under the growing eyes of those seated around it. Ron could have sworn that he actually saw Dominick lick his lips. He was proud of the table that his mother and George set. George was actually an excellent carver of meat and so the turkey’s carcass was neatly stripped. Ron thought for a moment about the way that he had hacked up a bird in the past and wound up actually pulled the legs and wings off with his hands and exposed ripped out pieces that made it look as if some predator had attacked the game with its jaws and claws.

Reverend Cooley said, “Well this is a magnificent looking table.”

The guests all looked from one to the other smiling and nodding their heads. There was a respectful moment of quiet and then the murmurs of “Oh yes, I would love some of that” that came as the plates were passed around the table. As they began to settle down to their plates and eat, Cooley said, “Your mother tells me that you are a teacher, Ron.”

Ron finished chewing and swallowed and said, “This is my first year at it. I hope to be a good teacher.”

“Lord willing, I’m sure that you will be,” said Cooley. “What did you do previously?”

“I spent some time in a jail in Paterson and before that in a center for the mentally ill in Cranford,” said Ron. He was instantly sorry that he had mentioned the jail. He saw the look of pain wash across Marjorie’s face. He knew that it made her think about her long searched for, and never found, father.

“Some of our greatest minds have spent time in both of those places, Ronald. No reason to be ashamed,” said Mrs. Cooley. It caused Ron to grin.

“I don’t think that the young man meant that he was incarcerated in either of those places, Mother,” said Reverend Cooley. “I think that he was telling us that he worked there.”

Mrs. Cooley bit her lip and said, “Oh I am sorry,” and momentarily put down her knife and fork. Ron saw Marjorie glare at the woman. He wondered what his Aunt Dotty would have said if she had been here. “Please do forgive me, Ronald.”

“No offense taken, Mrs…” Ron paused and feigned a look of confusion.  “What is your first name?”

The Cooleys exchanged a look of quick tension. And the Reverend Colley said pointedly, “Mrs. Cooley’s Christian name is Gladys.”

Ron ignored the signal. “No offense taken, Gladys.”

The Cooleys exchanged the look again. George asked if anyone wanted more wine or cider. Dominick was hunched over his plate and seemed to be shoveling the food into his mouth with the precision of a back hoe. Sela Pascal picked at her food demurely, occasionally deigning to lift a half filled fork to her mouth and tentatively placing it to her lips before opening the cavity just the slightest bit to place it inside. She then chewed thoroughly and touched her napkin to her violated lips just after she swallowed.

“What do you teach, Ronald?”

“English,” said Ron.

“So you are a man of letters,” said Gladys Cooley.

“Rather than numbers, yes,” said Ron.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Bombasco?” said Reverend Cooley.

George had a large helping of turkey in his mouth and held up his hand while he chewed, asking her to wait. Hurriedly he chewed and swallowed and then blurted, “I’m a printer.”

“What is it that your company prints, George?” said Dominick, raising his head up for the first time, his face grown red and his cheeks swollen from exertion.

“Local papers and the Foodtown circular,” said George, happy to be on firm footing. He did a man’s job and he did it well. It was a time honored profession. He didn’t spend his time in bars with games or in classrooms with little girls.

“What do you do, Dominick?” said Ron.

“Sela and I have dedicated ourselves to spreading the word of God.”

Ron nodded. “Does it pay well?”

An electric look of tension passed around the table at the impudence of the question. Reverend Cooley spoke. “The rewards are manifest, Ronald.”

Ron had just done some reading about the ways that Missionaries had helped to rape Hawaii. He knew that his mother had wanted to be a missionary when she was young.  He also knew that for her it had been a deep and sincere desire to make the world like the world she envisioned that Jesus would have wanted.

“How do you do that in 1977?” said Ron. He shrugged. “I mean, I imagine that everyone has heard about it by now.”

“Many are they that listen and do not hear,” pronounced Cooley.

People were now reaching out for additional food, all except for Sela whose plate was still more than half full. Ron took additional dressing and ladled some of the surprisingly good fresh cranberry sauce onto his plate. Marjorie took additional candied yams. Dominick went for a refill of everything. Even the Cooleys took more turkey and potatoes.

“What I mean is,” said Ron, “what exactly do you do?”

“Well, with all of the European countries giving up and all this talk of individual States and Countries, there is a movement back to old heathen ways in Africa and we try to combat that.”

“And how do you do that?” said Ron. He found himself now genuinely interested.

“For one, we work on old legends and songs, the things that these people believe because they really don’t know any better. We sometimes take the melodies of old songs and rewrite the stories, providing an enlightened look at the world.”

“You change their history?” said Ron.

“They really don’t know too much about history, Ronald.”

“How do you know that?”

Cooley seemed to ignore the question. “They have folk songs and tales that they tell each other. And we inject the Divine presence into them.”

Ron put down his fork. “So basically you steal their history the same way that slave owners stole the language of African slaves in America.”

“We don’t think of it as stealing, more that we are giving them gifts.”

“Suppose they don’t want your gifts?”

“We also provide food and clothing and medicine.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Ron. “Do they get the medicine if they don’t sing the songs the way that you want them to?”

“Marjorie, I must say that this is the most delicious meal that we have had since returning home,” said Gladys Cooley.

After the pies and the coffee and the fruit and the nuts, the men went to watch a football game and the women congregated in the kitchen.

Ron saw that the Miami Dolphins were drubbing the St Louis Cardinals. He had always rooted for the Cardinals because he liked their quarterback, but Miami was just too good and the game was not competitive.

Football didn’t live in him the way that it used to. He knew that he would never play again, not even in a game of two-handed touch. The men were sprawled with their bellies sticking up like large amphibious creatures sunning themselves in front of the light of the TV instead of being on some rocks watching the sea roll in.

He looked to the kitchen. There was a constant clatter of pots, pans and dishes as the women honored a time old custom of not leaving each other with a mess to clean. Ron would have preferred being in there, but he knew that his presence would ruin Marjorie’s being the center of attention. They would all feel compelled to make a fuss over him being there,

or in the cases of these other two women perhaps express their discomfort with him not acting like one of the men.