Taylor Made Owens (8 page)

She waited a few minutes, crept up next to his window, which happened to be open a crack, sat beneath it, and listened. “I promised myself never to let a guy go all the way with me who wasn’t dedicated to me,” said Jennifer. He said nothing. “Look at me,” Jennifer resumed. He was having trouble focusing. “I’m lying next to you on your bed with nothing on.”

Kristen’s jaw dropped.

“It’s obvious you want me. Just commit to me, and this is all yours.” He remained mum. Jennifer continued, “Well, let’s see if I can change your mind then.”

Kristen heard his breathing change and knew what was coming. Isn’t it amazing how it’s men who have them, yet women are the experts with them? (Hey, that might be the stupidest query of all time except maybe for, “In retrospect, do you think we erred in bringing that wooden horse inside the gates?”) His gasps culminated, then faded to the inaudible. Kristen was so upset she felt sick. But Jennifer had misplayed her hand, finding his desire had suddenly plunged right after it had peaked. “Now are you ready to make a commitment to me?” Jennifer asked.

“No,” he replied decisively.

“Why not? I’m willing to give up all other guys for you. I love you, Bobby.” He said nothing. She redoubled her efforts. After a few minutes of kissing and caressing, Jennifer declared, “I want you. I’m going to give you my virginity to show you how much I love you. Be gentle, okay?”

He’d never done this before either, so he knew nothing other than approximately where to put it, but he nodded eagerly. She lay on her back and welcomed him with open arms—and legs. He clambered on top of her and entered so excitedly that she gasped in pain. He spent the next twenty-seven seconds in paradise.

Crestfallen, Kristen ran home. Jennifer sneaked in an hour later.

The Taylor and Owens genes had a natural, overpowering affinity for one another and were desperate to intermingle; their bodies were merely following their cue. But whereas Owens’s body was willing to grant both Taylor girls unfettered access to his genes, each Taylor body was less magnanimous, insisting on exclusive access to the Owens genes; selfish things. Their competition over him would taint their relationship for the rest of their lives.

Kristen wouldn’t talk to Jennifer the next morning at the kitchen table. “What’s the matter?” her cousin asked. She wouldn’t answer. “You’re upset that I took Bobby from you last night?” No answer. “I hate to tell you this, cuz, but I’m in love with him and I think he feels the same.” That prompted a response.

“No way, cuz. He’s incapable of loving anyone, and I’m sure he doesn’t trust you after that disaster on the school bus.”

“Stop living in the past, Krissy. You’re just jealous he chose me over you. You heard him. He thinks I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. To him, you’re just a cute kid. He said that to me.”

“To him, you’re just a slut.” Her jealousy simmering, Kristen was one calorie short of a full boil.

Jennifer supplied the heat. “Well, all I know is I felt truly loved last night. Four times!” In reality, it was only the once, for she was tender after her first time—and, anyway, he’d passed out—but she had to reciprocate for the calumny.

“Get out of my house!” Kristen screamed.

“What’s going on here?” said Lisa as she entered the kitchen. “You two are fighting? What’s the problem?”

“Krissy’s upset that Bobby picked me over her. She’s kicking me out of your house.”

“Krissy. I’m surprised at you,” Lisa reprimanded. “You know Jenny is always welcome here. I know he’s an attractive boy, and we owe him a lot, but try not to let him come between you two. You’ve been best friends since birth.”

“He doesn’t need the two of us to come between. Just her!” Kristen said. Jennifer turned beet red. Lisa gawped at Jennifer, suspecting what Kristen’s remark imported, and Jennifer’s hue seemed to confirm.

“Young lady!” Lisa yelled after her daughter, but she ran out of the house and up the street. Lisa turned to her niece. Under the inevitable inquisition, Jennifer held firm in denying she’d been that naughty.

So distressed was Kristen, she decided to go and give Robert a piece of her mind as well. She rapped on his door. The second he answered, she launched into a rant. “It was ignorant of you to just brush me off when my cousin came to the party last night then shoo me away as if I were a gnat. You’re reprehensible and heartless.”

“I did that? Sorry, Taylor. My only excuse is I was really drunk. I spent half the night snuggling the toilet. I think your gargoyle friend spiked my drink.” He rubbed his forehead. Oh, what a headache had he.

“That’s a feeble excuse. You may not have noticed, jerk, but I’ve grown up. I hate being referred to as a cute kid. You treat me like dirt, and I resent you for that.”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You’re a fool trusting Jenny after what she did to you on the bus.”

“I don’t trust her. You either.”

“What? You don’t trust me? Why not?”

“I’ve heard about your reputation for shooting down guys right, left, and center as soon as they show any interest. You think no guy is good enough for you.”

“Jenny told you that, no doubt.”

“Do you deny it?”

“I never lead anyone on, and I don’t turn down guys for the joy of feeling superior to them, as my cousin does. When I hurt anyone’s feelings, I feel terrible. Anyway, I wouldn’t turn you down.”

“Okay. Do you want to go out with me?” he asked.

“Not unless it’s exclusive.”

“So you just turned me down.”

“I did not! I said—”

“I heard what you said. You’ll go out with me if I commit to you. No way, Taylor.”

“Oh!” she screeched, and she stomped out of his house and all the way home.

¹
This paragraph first appeared on the website of the literary journal, Slow Trains:
http://www.slowtrains.com/vol9issue3/powersvol9issue3.html

K
risten believed that the quintessence of a man’s character is most clearly unveiled in his wit. Wit demonstrates his mental prowess and quickness, his ingenuity, his way with words, his brashness, his irreverent attitudes—and, of course, his sense of humor. She always looked for ways to get Robert to display his wit, which she adored.

Any good woman takes it upon herself to expand her man’s interests beyond sports and sex, if only so he’ll spend more time with her and less time on her. To spend more time with Robert, Kristen decided to invite him to her various volunteer activities. He declined each invitation.

“Come on, Bobby. You know you need forty hours of community volunteering to graduate. Have you done
any
?”

“No.”

“Then how about coming along on Sunday afternoons to the children’s ward at the hospital?” He didn’t answer, but she persisted, “I take my dog there to cheer up the children. Will you come?”

“What for?”

“Do you listen to anything I say? You need forty hours of volunteer work to graduate. This would be something worthwhile.”

“What would I have to do?”

“Just be yourself. Make them laugh.”

“All right. What time?”

“We’ll pick you up at twenty to two. We stay there from two to four.”

He assented and commenced joining her for the weekly visit. Normally, things went well, with Kristen offering emotional support, and Robert and the dog lightening the mood. Sometimes it was depressing, which made Robert want to stop going until Kristen made the case how important it is to lift the gloom from the lives of those suffering children and their loved ones.

One particular Sunday was most distressing. A lovable little six-year-old boy had died of cancer the night before, and the other children on the ward were crying and worrying. Robert sat with the dog next to the wall in the room that served to entertain the children and their families. He was so disheartened, he couldn’t do a thing. Kristen, though, went to the children and hugged them, cried with them, and reassured them. After twenty minutes, she called Robert over to help cheer them up. Inspired by her, he did his best, although the dog was better medicine than he that day.

On the way home, he said, “You were terrific with them today, Kristen. I don’t know how you do it. It’s so sad. Why the hell can’t they cure cancer yet? How many top scientists have been working on it for decades? How many hundreds of billions have they spent on it? Yet still little kids die from it. I’m not sure I want to go anymore.”

“I’m every bit as upset as you are. Today was hard, but our help is
most
important when something like that happens. Someone has to help those poor children. Please don’t give up. I need you to be there, too, or I don’t want to keep doing it either.”

How could he say no to such an appeal, to such an angel? “Oh, all right,” he said.

Kristen dragged Robert and her dog, Billingsgate, along to an old age home in nearby Komoka one Saturday afternoon as well. She thought maybe the dog would cheer up the senior citizens. He found that place so oppressive and malodorous, he refused to return. “So this is what the fossils who didn’t have the sense to die younger come to, eh? What’s the point of it all? What’s the goddamn point?” he whispered to Kristen.

“Oh, stop being so morbid,” she reproved as she brushed an old lady’s hair. He noticed the smile on the woman’s face and couldn’t help thinking that Kristen was a much better person than he, much better than anyone he ever met. “Our visits bring a little happiness back into their lives. You don’t want to come here because you put yourself in their position. Think then how much you would like something out of the ordinary like talking to young people and petting a dog.”

How could he say no to such an appeal, to such an angel? “No, Taylor.” (That’s how.) “I’ll go to see the kids, but not the fossils. And do me a favor: the day when petting a dog and talking to kids is the highlight of my life, kill me.”

Kristen hoped that the more time he spent with her, the closer he would get to her. It worked. He enjoyed her company so much, he began to call on her during the week, though found she was seldom home. Robert was awestruck by her irresistible personality—her brilliance, her wit, her charm, her poise, her integrity, her affability, her vitality, and her compassion—and she was cute, to boot. To him, they were the best of friends.

To her, they were much more, despite his flaws. She looked beyond what he was to what he could be given what nature had bestowed on him; and what he could be, assuming he attained his potential, was a great man. No one else she’d ever met came close to his potential. Reason aside, she was falling in love.

By this time, the spontaneous smile that sprang to her lips and eyes whenever she saw him had become resplendent. She looked the more alluring for it, and his gaze became longer and more longing.

On Halloween, he stopped by to invite her out for an evening stroll. As they walked down her driveway, Robert said, “Hey, Taylor, watch this.” Kristen observed as he darted at a young boy and said, “Give me that bag you little bugger!” The lad screamed, surrendered the bag of candy, and ran away whimpering. “Scram, pipsqueak!” Robert yelled as he examined his booty.

“Robert Peter Owens!” Kristen berated. “I don’t believe what I just saw. How could you?” She called to the youngster. “Wait a minute, little boy. Come back.” He stopped and returned. Then she looked at Robert and said, “You set me up, didn’t you?” He started laughing, and the boy joined in.

“Give me my five bucks,” the boy demanded, and Robert handed it over.

“How did you know?” Robert asked her.

“It wouldn’t shock me if you’d done that in your past, but I didn’t think you could be that mean to a young child. I see how much you care about the kids on the children’s ward. You did have me going for a minute, though. Honestly, Bobby, will you ever grow up?”

“This is Kevin. He lives next door. I got the five bucks to take him trick or treating, and I spent it for your entertainment.” She smiled. “I have to walk him home. Walk with us, okay?” The good sport accompanied them. On the way back to Kristen’s, Robert, not having expelled all his juvenile impulses yet for the evening, stopped in front of Judy’s house. “Wait here a minute,” he said.

“What are you going to do? Bobby!”

“Just watch and keep your voice down.” She watched uneasily as he went to the corner of the house and dragged the Gilmour rain barrel, which was brimming with water, to the front door. He placed its base a few feet from the front door and leaned the top against the door. Then he waved at Kristen to hide in the bushes, rang the doorbell, and dashed to join her. Judy answered the door and unleashed a shriek as the contents of the barrel came rushing like a tidal wave into the front hall, soaking her legs in the process. Robert guffawed so hard that he started to shake.

Judy, livid over the peccadillo, came running out of her house and spotted the two. She attacked Robert, kneeing him below the belt and hitting him about the shoulders and face, while screaming, “I hate you! I hate you! I wish you were dead!” He didn’t know how to defend himself from an attacking girl, especially slouched as he was against the acute pain in his groin. He blocked what he could with his arms and backed away.

Kristen stepped in to halt the altercation. She appeased Judy and convinced her to go back into her house. Kristen then went back to Robert, who was leaning against a streetlight agitated, and said, “Are you okay?”

“They’re really sore,” he replied, igniting her sympathy. She stroked his cheek with her fingers. “Can you rub them better?” he asked, thereby extinguishing her sympathy.

“That was serious. She went crazy. I was worried she would hurt you.”

“You say that to a boy whose left nut is dangling from his liver? She’s beyond crazy. I think she’s wicked. Watch out for her.” He limped her home and called it a night.

The next Friday evening, Robert came by looking for some company. Kristen, happy to see him, smiled and invited him into her house. He took off his jacket. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing that awful shirt again,” she said.