Taylor Made Owens (14 page)

“Dominic!” interjected a now fretful Kristen, “Don’t tell tales.” Robert kept glowering at her. She wanted to crawl under a rock.

“You just don’t know how to handle women,” Dominic continued, twisting the blade in Robert’s heart. “Last month when I took Kristen out on my, uh, speed boat, she was sunning herself in the skimpy bikini I bought her. I was worried about her getting too much sun with so much exposed, so I, uh, stopped the boat and smothered her with sun block. It took a half-hour to rub it in everywhere.”

But it’s only taking a half a minute to rub it in now
, Kristen thought. Robert was so perturbed at the revelations, he had no impudent comeback to offer. He turned his head back toward the river and sat moping.
Dammit!
she groaned to herself. She glared at Judy.

“It’s obvious Kristen prefers me,” observed the unobservant Dominic.

“Yeah, but I’m second to one,” Robert said indignantly, shooting Kristen a glance so furious that she reacted as if it smote her in the face. Her eyes and mouth popped open while she took an involuntary quick breath. She was aching to rush to Robert, to take him in her arms and to confess her deep and abiding love for him, but if he reacted coolly to that all would be lost, including her crutch—who continued to gloat in putative victory. So she just smiled nervously at him, hoping he would calm down.

“I certainly hope you’re not embarrassed at your overwhelming failure to win Kristen’s love,” Dominic resumed. “The best man won, Owens,” he proclaimed with a pompous smile. “You had your chance; you blew it. Now it’s my turn.”

“Is that what you said to your boyfriend last night?” rejoined the upset teenager. That sent Kristen over the edge, laughing so hard that her eyes began to water, and she again crossed that line to crying. Perhaps it was owed to being slightly intoxicated, or maybe she wanted to impress upon Robert how funny she considered him, or maybe she was trying to divert his attention from what Dominic had revealed, or maybe she really did think it was that uproarious, but the sight of her convulsions was funnier than Robert’s comeback.

Dominic took offense at being cast as gay and at Kristen’s laughter, and things took a menacing twist. “I hear rumors that you like to fight,” he said to Robert. Judy had supplied him with this inaccurate intelligence. “Is it true?”

“It depends,” said Robert. “Most days I merely progress toward my doom like any normal person, indifferent to the world around me, content to ignore all I survey, but some days I wake up feeling truculent, thinking,
What a great day for boxing someone’s ears
.”

“I suppose you’re king of the hallway at your high school,” Dominic taunted. Robert ignored him. “Did you know I’m an excellent boxer?” He’d taken lessons for years.

“Yeah, it was front-page news in the paper this morning,” said the wiseacre.

“Well, wise ass, do you know what they’re going to call you tomorrow?” said the bully.

“The remains? Listen, I don’t want to fight you, okay.”

“What’s the matter? Chicken? Come on, take a shot. Chicken!” Dominic got to his feet. Robert followed suit.

“Please, boys,” interposed an increasingly anxious Kristen. “Calm down, Dominic. He doesn’t want to fight.”

But she was too late. He hit Robert hard in the shoulder, trying to get him to endeavor a punch. Robert tried to retaliate, but the more skilled fighter easily turned it aside and counterpunched in the cheek. That dazed the surprised youth.

“No, Dominic, stop, please,” beseeched Kristen, but to no avail. Dominic followed up with two more punishing blows to the face, and down went Robert to his knees. Kristen knelt to check on him. “Are you all right?” He moved to get up. “No, don’t get up!”

But our disgraced protagonist could not be seen to fail so dramatically in front of Kristen and he righted himself, only to receive another jab to the face. His guard stunned, he staggered about defenseless. Dominic saw the opening and inserted his fist into it. Robert plunged to the ground. “Oh!” yelped Kristen. Again he struggled to his feet.

“Dominic, cut it out,” Jeremy said. Judy sat silent, savoring the proceedings. Kristen conjured Dominic to stop, and Robert to stay down. Neither would listen. Robert got up, Robert went down.

“Stop it!” the now panicked young lady yelled to Dominic. Robert was trying to get up again; he was to his knees. Kristen had to do something to prevent further damage to the man she loved, so she said to the man she didn’t love, “Come on. You beat him. Let’s go down by the river and celebrate.”

That feint worked, though she knew she’d have some explaining to do to Robert later on. She motioned to Jeremy to help him and walked away arm-in-arm with the victor. Leaving Robert so vulnerable like that was one of the hardest things she ever had to do, but it was because he was so vulnerable that she had to do it.

T
he certainty of fate, the vagaries of chance: which governs how our lives start, unfold, and end? Perhaps there will never be an answer to this age-old question—but, in either case, life is often unpredictable and surprising. Events, even minor ones, that initially had nothing to do with us can reverberate to have an enormous influence on our life.

Kim had reached the low point in her life. She was depressed and desperately lonely. She’d spent the evening crying over her departed husband who’d been killed three years ago that night. Alone, she sat in her capacious house, looking around in despondency. Everything reminded her of the husband whom she had so deeply loved.

The couch she sat on they’d picked out together. She ran her hand across it and thought of what it meant to them, a simple piece of furniture imbued with such sweet memories. After going to more than a dozen furniture stores, they ended up buying, from an old lady up the block, a forty-year-old chesterfield built like a tank, but more comfortable and refined than anything built since. When they got it in place in the family room, they made love on it to christen it theirs. She recalled lying on it many evenings with her husband watching TV, never caring what was on, just happy to be cuddling each other.

The picture on the wall of the old sailing ship in a gale was Brian’s favorite. He’d been from Halifax and loved the ocean. She’d bought it for him for no special occasion. She recalled his delighted smile as he looked at it for the first time. On the fireplace mantelpiece was the last picture of the two of them. They were standing near the top of a mountain in Banff. He had his arm around her shoulders, and she had hers around his waist. They were both smiling; not phony portrait smiles, but sincerely happy smiles. What a tremendous vacation they’d had. So much love, so much loving.

Her next period had been late. She’d been worried at the time about being pregnant, because they’d wanted to have a few years to themselves. What a relief it had been when her period finally came.
If only it hadn’t
, she’d reflected ten thousand times since Brian died. What she would give now to have his child. The picture blurred through her copious tears.

To the bathroom she went. She opened the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of pills. She’d gotten this far twice before, but had never removed the cap. “I want to be with you, Brian!” she wailed aloud, unscrewing the cap. She stood there for a few moments trying to decide what to do. “God help me!” As she tipped the bottle and the first pill fell into her hand, the doorbell rang.

Startled out of her perilous trance, Kim put the pills away, quickly wiped her face, went to the door, and opened it to see a bloody Robert standing there. “Oh, my God, what happened?” asked Kim.

“I got in a fight. I used my face to protect my arm. I’m a pitcher, you know,” joked Robert, ever the comedian, even in such pain.

The kind lady took him in and nursed him, much to his delight. So tender was her care, four days did he stay to recover. So lonely was she that at times she was more aggressive than Dominic had been, but she administered only pleasure, and Robert made no objection.

Maybe a child can fill the incredible void in my life
, she reasoned. The more she thought about it, the more right it seemed.
I can never have Brian’s baby, but this fine young man would sire a wonderful child
, something deep inside her insinuated. And just like that it did.

Thus did a tragic death three years before and a fist fight that night conspire to create a precious new life. After Robert left, Kim went to visit her family in British Columbia for several weeks.

•

Kristen got to his house not twenty-five minutes after she’d left him at the campfire, yet he wasn’t there. His foster parents hadn’t seen or heard from him. She ran up and down every way he might have headed home in case he had fallen unconscious somewhere. No sign of him anywhere. She went to bed anxious about him.

The next morning she phoned the Kriegers, who informed her Robert had called to say he’d be staying overnight at a friend’s.
What friend could that possibly be?
she wondered.

When there was no sign of him at the bus stop on the next day of school, her anxiety level rose once again.

Not wanting to go to school all bashed up, he decided he would take a few days off. He finally returned home Tuesday afternoon, but sequestered himself in his room. Convinced he’d lost Kristen in large measure due to his penury, he contacted his acquaintance who had earlier suggested clandestine withdrawals from the bank. He came right over with a fancy laptop computer and information on the target and what they knew of its weaknesses. He left the computer, and Robert got to work.

Kristen dropped by on Tuesday and Wednesday, but he wouldn’t acknowledge her knock at his window. By Thursday, she used the key in the mailbox to gain entry to the house. She went to his room. He wasn’t there, but the laptop was. Kristen, who knew he could never afford such a machine, looked at it and what it was displaying, and became suspicious. She went downstairs, found him lifting weights, and watched for a time before announcing her presence.

“Are you bulking up for a rematch?” the observant young lady opened.

“You figure you can just walk in any house you please?” responded the surprised boy.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing my cremation won’t cure. What do you want?”

“I was worried about you. Where have you been?”

“Out nursing my injuries.”

“And who was doing the nursing?” said the nosey young thing.

“None of your business,” said the saucy young thing. “I hope your faggot boyfriend drops dead, dries up, blows away, and gets in your eyes.”

“I don’t consider him my boyfriend,” she said. “He kept hitting you every time you got up. Why didn’t you just stay down? What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking? When he first sent me sprawling, I was thinking, ‘My, what a balmy evening for October.’ Later, as he bloodied my nose, I was thinking, ‘I wonder if we move against time or if time moves against us.’ What do you think I was thinking? I was thinking, ‘Ow! That hurts!’ And, ‘Oh, shit, here comes another one. Ah!’” Kristen started laughing. He went on, “I was thinking, ‘I have to get him back.’ I was thinking, ‘I can’t let this bastard beat me in front of you.’”

“I went to your room looking for you and saw you got a new computer.”

He stood and looked nervous. “Uh, well, I borrowed it.”

“From whom?”

“A new guy at my school. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Since when are you working for a bank?”

“A bank?”

“You know I’m no fool. You’re doing something illegal, aren’t you?”

Shoulders slumped and eyes on the floor, he muttered, “I’m just lifting weights.”

“Robert Owens, one ploy you can never get away with is playing stupid. I know something’s up with the bank because you look guilty as hell. Why are you doing this?”

“I figured you preferred Dominic to me because he can show you a good time with all his money. I can’t do anything at all to entertain you, let alone buy you BMWs.”

“For such a smart guy, you can be a real dunce. Listen carefully. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’ll stop whatever you’re planning with the bank. If you don’t, I’ll tell you two things for certain: I’ll never even look at you again, and I’ll tell my father.”

He looked shocked. His conscience had spoken, and he had no choice but to follow her dictates. “I’ll stop right away.”

“You better. I’ll be watching. And give me more credit than to presume I’d ever choose anyone for the sake of money. Surely you think more of me than that.”

“Then why do you prefer him?”

“What makes you think I prefer him?”

“Come on. It was obvious by the campfire. You admitted you loved him.”

“I did not!”

“I heard your poems about him and me. I heard about all the fun you have playing with his toys, and how I apparently make you feel bad.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I feel as if I’m nothing special to you, and it’s true.”

“You called him handsome. He’s better-looking than I am, right?”

“Yes he is.”

“He’s a goddamn milksop. You part lesbian?”

“Not funny. You prefer Jenny’s looks to mine. Now you know how it feels.”

He looked at the floor pondering that for a moment. “He’s prettier than I am. Is that why you have such different standards about what you permit him to do with you?”

“No, it’s because he’s not afraid to commit to me.”

“Just how did the two of us come to be together anyway?” asked Robert, jealousy mounting. “Did you set that up to compare us?”

“No, it was—”

“You have the temerity to pit the two of us against each other and sit there in judgment? Well, I guess you have your answer. He’s the much better man. He beats me in every way—including physically, as you pointed out.”

“I didn’t set it up. Judy brought him.”

“Why would she do that without your blessing? Never mind. How far did you go with him? What did he mean ‘making love’?”

Kristen thought for a minute about his question. She decided to stretch the truth, a calculated risk to try to discover his true feelings toward her. “I went all the way with him,” she fibbed, looking closely at him.