Taylor Made Owens (17 page)

“How do you like my fudge?” she asked. Her family smiled politely, but Robert, as was his wont, answered honestly.

“It’s fudge? I thought you went through the woods and gathered up some deer droppings.”

Kristen informed him it was the last time she’d ever make him fudge. He thanked her for that consideration and excused himself from the table.

After kissing him good night, Kristen said, “Please don’t see that Arnold woman anymore, okay?”

He nodded, but wasn’t happy with the request or with the idea. Kim called him a few times through the winter, but he made excuses not to see her. Their special bond would ensure a lasting relationship between the pair, however.

W
omen are always more inquisitive about their man’s background than men are about their woman’s, perhaps because men are much more apt than women to be axe murderers, and as the new saying goes, axe murderers make dicey bedfellows. Kristen was curious about Robert’s parents, especially since the little he’d told her of them was fascinating, but it was a delicate subject for obvious reasons. In his room one evening, she searched for a way to get him to talk about them. “What’re you thinking about?” she opened.

Licking every inch of your body, then trying every position in the
Kama Sutra
with you for twenty-four straight hours
, he thought. “Nothing,” he said.

“Do you remember how we met?” she tried.

“Yeah, it was a story for the ages. I was trying to wheedle my nuts back into my bag, and you were laughing and looking down your nose at me.”

“True, it wasn’t romantic, but my parents’ first meeting was. It was Mom’s first week of university—Dad was in his third year—and they met at the pool. Mom walked out of the changing room in her bathing suit, and my dad spotted her. He tried to show off on the diving board, but ended up slipping and bouncing off his bum before flopping into the water. Mom laughed and went over to … You’re not listening to me.”

“Sure I am. Your parents met at the university.”

“What did I say after that?”

“Uh, your dad … um, spotted your mom … on a corner, and they went to a cheap motel room to make you and Jeremy.”

She hit him on the arm.

“All right, if you find my family history so boring, tell me how your parents met.”

He closed his eyes, laid his head on his shoulder and pretended to snore. She undertook another tack: appealing to his pride in his parents. “Can I see your mother’s medal?” He went to his trunk, rummaged around, pulled it out and put it around her neck. “It was for figure skating?” He nodded. “When was that?”

“Seventy-two in Sapporo. I have the video of her performance. Want to see it?” Kristen jumped at that offer, and the two went to the TV room to observe young Jill Richards skate almost flawlessly to Debussy’s “Claire de Lune.”

“She’s so pretty and graceful,” opined Kristen, as she watched the young athlete deftly interpret the superb music. They went back to his room. It was time to learn more about the paternal side.

“Can I see a picture of your father?” He dug out the one he had of his father in his Air Force uniform. “He’s so handsome,” she declared. “I can see some of him in you, especially his eyes, but I think you look more like your mother. When was he in the Air Force?”

“Through the seventies, I think.”

“He played baseball after that?”

“Yup.” He pulled out his father’s Giants jersey, number 13, and put it on. “I think the story was he wanted to go into minor league baseball after college, but got a low enough number in the draft lottery that he was convinced he’d end up as an infantry grunt who would return home from Vietnam without a leg or a pulse—something that might interfere with his plans to play baseball—so he joined the Air Force.”

“Did he ever go to Vietnam?”

“Not that I know of. I’m not sure about a lot of their background. Little kids never think about that stuff. They were Mom and Dad. What else did I need to know? Most of what I know now, I’ve pieced together from the things in this trunk. I don’t know exactly when he left the Air Force or started playing baseball, but I know he played for the Giants in 1981.”

“So where in all this did he meet your mother?”

“I only know that because it was the day Dad tore his shoulder apart. Mom liked to tell that story because it was the day they met. Nine pitches; that’s all he threw in the majors. Nine. He gave up a career in the Air Force and must have worked really hard to get to the Giants, and he lasted two-thirds of an inning. I can imagine how devastated he must have been. He got there, but had no chance to savor it. He was still sensitive about it a decade later, I know. They took him to the hospital where my mom was taking her medical training.”

“Where was that?”

“I’m not sure, but I remember she used to wear an old sweater with UCSF on it.”

“The University of California at San Francisco.”

“I guess.”

“I’ve been looking into medical schools, and that’s one of the best. Go on.”

“Dad started flirting with her the moment he saw her, she told me, which didn’t impress her at the time, though she crowed about it plenty afterward. I guess men were always making passes at her, and she wanted to be treated as a professional. He was just the next disrespectful pervert.”

“Like father, like son.”

“So she informed him in a dispassionate way that his shoulder was shattered, and surgery was needed. He got very upset over the news and offended at her detached bedside manner, and he demanded to know the prognosis for recovery. She was put off by his hostility and callously told him that he would be lucky to have full use of his arm, and that it would never again stand much strain.

“I guess he immediately broke down crying, which shocked her. She sincerely apologized and asked why he was so upset. He answered, ‘You just told me with a pitiless smirk that my life is over.’ Mom remembered his line word for word. It had the power to make her teary-eyed for the rest of her life. She begged Dad to explain. Only then did she learn he pitched for the Giants, and she realized what the prognosis meant to him. She was beside herself over the heartless way she’d conveyed the bad news to him. Anyway, in trying to make it up to him, she fell in love, and so did he, and they lived happily ever … for ten years.”

“So what you’re saying is your father’s disaster was the best thing that ever happened to him and to her.”

“What? No, I’m not saying that. His career was ruined. It had to be the worst day of his life. And she would probably have lived a lot longer if she hadn’t met him.”

“Because of what happened, they met their soul mates. I’m sure they’ll always be together now. What could be more important than that? If someone made me choose between living ten more years with the man I love or sixty more years with anyone else, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.”

“You think I’ll live sixty more years?”

“Shut up. And look at what they left for the world: you wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for his injury.”

“See? It’s still causing problems.”

“So, how did he propose?”

“I know that story, too.
³
Mom loved to tell it. It’s funny. Mom was content on her own; she had her career, and men were pigs. Dad was happy, too; he had, well, he had to start over with a new career, and women were plentiful. Then they met, and everything changed. So, two people who were perfectly satisfied in their independence were now dependent on someone else for their happiness. It’s sad, really,” he said, with an arch smile to get a reaction from Kristen. She hit him again. “I’m not sure exactly how long they dated, but before long, he began to hint about getting married, and she was hinting yes, but he wouldn’t come right out with the question.

“So, she pushed things along by renting the ice at a local rink to skate for him. Dad said she started out in an elegant black dress that flowed across her body as she skated gracefully to a slow song. When that song ended, a fast song came on, and she zipped the black dress off, revealing one of those sexy, short, body-hugging skater’s outfits in dark red. She danced across the ice, spinning, jumping, swaying her hips and such, all the while smiling at him. She bragged he was mesmerized and practically drooling by the end of it. I guess he really was impressed, because while she changed he scribbled her a little something to express his feelings. She treasured it till her dying day. I have it here.”

He pulled out of the trunk a small box that contained a scroll of lined paper tied with a blue ribbon and handed it to Kristen.

She untied it, unrolled it, and read it aloud:

No mere words, especially my clumsy words, can do you justice, but you inspire me to try. When I first set eyes on you, I was enchanted (a poetical way of saying “horny”), which offended you, I know, but mere man that I am, I was utterly lost in your gorgeous eyes when they first shone upon me. Though I stared, it is unfair to reproach me for becoming ensnared in the trap that your supernal beauty sets, from which no mortal man has the power or will to escape. Yet, now that I know the pure joy of knowing you, I understand your objection to being judged by appearance alone, for you are so much more than beautiful. Every day I spend with you, I find something else to admire about you. Every fleeting minute with you, I fall more in love. Every eternal minute apart from you, I desire nothing but the paradise of your company. And today … One minute I’m spellbound by your beauty, talent, and grace, and I know how much I want you. The next I’m buzzing with raw animal excitement and I know how much I need you. What more can I say to tell you how much you mean to me other than to declare: I love you, Jill!”

Kristen smiled with teary eyes, thinking,
Why can’t the son be as poetic?

Noticing her moist eyes, Robert said, “Pretty sappy, eh?” She smirked. He continued, “Despite his proclamation of love, to her great disappointment, he didn’t ask her to be his wife then. He wanted to, but had decided years before that if he ever wanted to marry he’d pop the question while flying. I guess he thought it would be romantic. Plus, if she said no, he could just nose down into the Pacific, and have done with it.

“He rented an expensive plane and took her up to show off … He was such a good pilot.” His face became somber, and he said with evident resentment, “That fucking airline pilot made a mistake that cost them their lives, and destroyed mine.” He lowered his head. Kristen embraced him and stroked his hair.

He went on, “Anyway, the funny part was Dad went too far showing off. There were a few too many acrobatic manoeuvres for her unaccustomed stomach. Just as he was getting set to ask the question, she turned white and puffed out her cheeks. What would come first? The question or the vomit? If the latter, she could well imagine it putting a damper on his enthusiasm and she might miss her best shot at him, but if the question came first, how would it look to answer the most profound expression of a man’s love with a puke?” Kristen laughed. “Many men would consider that the definitive rejection. As the purging began, she grabbed a bag next to the seat. When she put her face in it and spewed forth, she saw a small jewellery box in it, which held?”

“The engagement ring,” Kristen said with a chuckle.

“Here it is here,” he said, as he extracted his mother’s ring from the same box.

Kristen held out her hand and he gave her the ring. She slid it onto her ring finger, smiled, and noted, “It fits perfectly.” He said nothing, so she went on: “So, what happened next?”

“Mom was so embarrassed and upset that she started bawling. Dad was angry with himself for his overzealousness. He knew it was his fault and apologized. He thought the moment sufficiently unromantic to proceed with the question, so he flew back to the airport, his plans shattered. But Mom wouldn’t let it end like that. Just before she got out of the plane, she looked into his eyes and said, ‘I’d love to, Jimmy.’

“He knew what she meant, but just to make it official, he said with a hopeful smile, ‘You’ll marry me?’ She said yes and went to kiss him, but recalled her barf breath and turned aside at the last minute. He turned her head back and kissed her on the lips. I’m guessing he didn’t slip her the tongue.”

Kristen chortled again and commented, “I never thought throwing up could be so romantic.” She took his hand. “You should feel good knowing they’ll always be together.”

“Dust together. Great.”

“You don’t believe in anything beyond this world? You don’t believe in God at all?”

“On my most religious days, I’m an agnostic. Most days I’m pretty sure there is no God. What I don’t understand is how such a smart person can banish doubt by citing faith. What you’re saying is you believe because you refuse to doubt.”

“I don’t feel like I’m trying to fool myself. I’m not saying there’s a personal god who watches over us and smites us when we’re bad; that’s nonsense. But I think there’s a benevolent order to the world.”

“A sort of intelligent design?”

“I have no doubt that evolution is a fact. It’s just that the universe is so … I don’t know, spectacular. I can’t believe it’s all a cosmic accident. I don’t understand how such a smart person can dismiss it all as an accident.”

“I’m just smart enough to know that I know maybe a trillionth of what there is to know. From unconscious ignorance, I have attained conscious ignorance.”

“Well, don’t assume that your conscious ignorance is somehow superior to my faith. My faith is not just wishful thinking as you seem to think; it’s a fervent conviction.”

“And what’s the need of reason when we have conviction?”

“So you think reason and conviction are mutually exclusive? I’m convinced God exists, and that some of the most important things in life are predetermined.”

“So god is a mechanism to engineer fate?” She shrugged. “Seems impossible.”

“So we’re simply here because of evolution?” she said.

“Precisely, though I don’t see how humans will continue evolving.”

“Why?”