Archives for July 2013

Chapter 61

 

“Shakespeare is mostly a mystery. Some people think that he is a miracle. I mean here is Willy, this guy with a basic education, who winds up being able to crawl inside the minds of Kings, of Generals, of young women, of peasants. He seemed to have the ability to think like anyone that he chose to understand and explore. On top of that, he had a huge vocabulary. Additionally, he wrote great poetry. As luck would have it, he did all of this in English and we get to study him.”

Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at the class. Again he felt a wave of sheer joy at having the chance to work with them. “We’re going to begin with a light hearted play that can also be a little confusing.  It is called Midsummer’s Night’s Dream. So our first question.” He turned to the board and wrote, “What causes people to fall in love?”

He turned back to look at them. “Come on ladies, I have 20 beautiful and intelligent young women sitting in front of me. What causes you to fall in love?”

Donna Seaford smiled with her thought and then raised her hand. “I’m pretty sure that I have never been in love, Mr. Tuck. What about you? What causes you to fall in love?”

The girls giggled. Ron felt himself flush. He thought well Donna isn’t wasting any time either. Ron thought about how to answer. He wanted to be very honest. “I think it starts with attraction and I think attraction is initially physical. Then there is compatibility. But what I think causes me to fall in love is when my imagination is touched.”

Some of the girls grinned and nodded. Others looked down. “OK, now you.”

Elena raised her hand. “I’m with Donna. I don’t think that I have ever been in love either and I’m not sure that I want to be in love. From what I’ve seen it makes people stupid.”

More Laughter. Ron grinned.

Samantha Santorini raised her hand. “I don’t know what causes it, but I know how it feels. It feels as if the world is right there in that other person, and no one else or nothing else matters. It makes you feel like your life is special. It makes you feel like no one else has ever understood you before.”

Ron nodded thoughtfully. “Those are great descriptions. But we still haven’t gotten to the question. What causes it? Is it magic?”

“I think it’s a chemical reaction,” said Judith Wunderlan. “I think that we have chemicals in our bodies that respond to certain people.”

“There is a school of thought that agrees with you Judith,” said Ron.

“This is going to sound silly,” said Veronica Petrelli, “but I think that it’s the people in heaven who look out for us and steer us towards certain people.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s what my grand-mother told me. She said that we fall in love because people in heaven want us to be happy, and that love gives us the chance to be really happy.”

Some of the girls smiled at Veronica and others looked down. Ron watched them trying to gauge where he would go next. “That would be kind of magical wouldn’t it?”

People nodded.

“So what happens when people fall out of love?” said Donna. “Do the chemicals wear off, or are the people in heaven fickle?”

“Another good question,” said Ron. “Let’s see what Shakespeare had to say about it.”

He moved to the tape player and began the play. He told them that they should have notebooks out and write down any questions that came to them during the scene and that he would try to get to everyone’s questions at the end of each scene. He also told them to write down the parts that confused them and that they would look at those sections together. The girls followed along in their books as the tape played. Ron read the play again along with the tape and his students.

At the end of the first scene, he clicked off the tape. He looked at them for a long second. “Questions?”

“Why do parents act that way?” said Elizabeth Holland. “Why do they feel that it is necessary to decide who marries who?”

“In those times, daughters were considered the property of their fathers,” said Ron. “Marriage had economic consequences.”

Elena said, “Not just in those times, Mr. Tuck.” Some of the girls nodded sagely and Ron joined them.

“And, additionally we have the problem that Helena loves Demetrius but he does not love her but loves her friend Hermia. What does Helena say about that?”

Elena said, “Basically she is saying what does she have that I haven’t got?”

“Exactly,” said Ron. “Sort of what Sam was saying earlier. That it doesn’t matter what anyone else in the world thinks. In this case Helena was saying, who cares if I am pretty if he doesn’t think so?”

Tonight you are to finish reading at least the first act of the play. We will talk about it again tomorrow.” Ron finished just as the bell rang.

 

The next day Ron asked, “How did the reading go?” He was not surprised by the tentative silence that greeted his question. He thought about what he should do. “OK, there is confusion. Am I right?”

Heads bobbed. Veronica said, “I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to understand this stuff.” Ron gave her a disbelieving look. She caught the expression. “I mean it, Mr. Tuck. I read the first two acts last night and I was more confused when I finished than I was when I started. And I didn’t do my math, which is a big mistake that I’m gonna pay for.”

Ron nodded. “Ok, it’s important to do the homework for the rest of your classes. I agree. Save the reading until last. I trust that you will make a sincere effort to do it.”

Veronica smiled. “You don’t have to say that. That was my fault. I should know enough to do my homework, but you make him sound so interesting and important that I just wanted to get right to it, and I got carried away.”

“That happens to me too, Veronica,” said Ron. “It’s a lot easier to grade your papers than it is to grade some of my other classes. But you guys are also the most time consuming. So, I save what I love most till last, like dessert.”

Now they were grinning at him. He had told them again that he loved them and they basked in his smile.

“But I don’t believe this stuff is too hard for you. You got Romeo and Juliet. You got Macbeth. You’ll get this. Those two plays are really way harder than this one is.” Ron turned to the board. “We’ve got two different worlds going on at the same time. The worlds kind of mirror each other. The characters of the fairy world are ones that you really know.”

Donna said, “I’m pretty sure that I never met anybody named Puck, Mr. Tuck. Then she grinned. Puck and Tuck rhyme. Are you really Puck, Mr. Tuck?” She laughed as she emphasized the rhyme.

Ron grinned at her and gave her his dimples. “Sometimes I am, Donna. “Do I ever trick you?”

Donna smiled broadly. “I’m here, right?”

Ron laughed and said, “Yes, you are and some of you may think that I tricked you. Like the way that I tricked you into being the good writers that you are today.”

“You tortured us into that,” said Elena.

Ron was having trouble not laughing again, but it was time to be serious and to turn this into something else. “Ever lose your keys and then find them in the same spot that you looked at ten times before?”

“I do that all the time with my purse,” said Paula. Some of the other girls laughed and nodded.

“That’s Puck, playing with you. When you stub your toe and nothing is damaged but you wind up hopping around and limping for a few minutes, that’s Puck.”

Samantha raised her hand. “So if I say ‘Oh Puck!’ I won’t get into trouble? I can tell them that my English teacher said it was OK?”

Now the girls really were laughing. Ron rolled his eyes. “Just make sure that you emphasize the P, Samantha. But seriously, Puck is a trickster and he works for Oberon who is the King of the Fairies. These are not witches like in Macbeth. They don’t think fair is foul et cetera, but they do like to have fun.”

Ron drew two circles that touched each other. In one circle he put in the world of the fairies and in the other he placed the human world. “Both worlds depend on each other and when they interact, things get funny. Don’t try to read too deeply into this play. Take it for what it is. It’s a dream. It’s sexy. It’s funny. Don’t try too much to understand it with the exception of a few lines that I will point out to you.”

For the next thirty minutes Ron walked them through the plot and had them create character descriptions. When the class was coming to an end he said, “I had this teacher in college who made us write a comment on the side board before the class began. Not everyone had to write, but unless there were a certain number of comments, he would not start the class. He did it because it gave him a place to start, a way to understand what the class was thinking. We’re going to do that too. We will need five comments to start the class, but anyone who makes a good comment will get a point on her next test.”

As the bell rang Samantha said, “See you are a real Puck, Mr. Tuck.”

 

Ron watched them leave and they looked content. He stopped Veronica on the way out. “I meant what I said about the reading.”

She blushed and put her head down. “I lied. I got up early and did my math, Mr. Tuck.

Ron smiled. “Good for you. I still meant what I said.”

 

Paula Sandal was hanging back, and so Ron waited until the classroom was empty. He had lunch after this class and he didn’t expect any company. “I really don’t think that I’m smart enough to be here, Mr. Tuck.”

“Why do you say that?”

She shifted uneasily. “First of all, look at my grades and look at the grades of the other girls in here. I don’t measure up. And secondly, you didn’t invite me the way that you invited them.”

“So, show me that I was wrong to not invite you.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that you were wrong. You know me really well, and if you didn’t think that I could do it, you are probably right.”

Ron looked into her eyes and lied to her. “I didn’t invite you because you had me for so many other classes, and I thought that you would get bored.”

“Really?” she said and smiled for him. “I’m not bored. I’m scared.”

“Let me ask you a question,” said Ron. “If you don’t get an A will it be the end of the world?”

“I don’t care about that. I just don’t want to be the dumb kid.”

“You could never be that,” said Ron. “Do you think that I would allow that to happen?”

“You can’t make me smart, Mr. Tuck. I know that you think that you can do anything, but you can’t make me smart.”

Ron tightened his mouth into a smile and nodded. Then he said, “You’re gonna be fine.”

When she left, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. She didn’t have the grades and she was not as obviously quick. What she did have was desire. Quietly, he hoped that he was not making a mistake by not encouraging her to change classes now, when it was early enough to not be an issue.

 

Chapter 60

At the faculty meeting that began the 1980-81 school year, Ron was introduced to the two new male teachers that would be joining the staff. Anthony Mancuso and Arnold Needlehaus were as different as night and day. Mancuso was a very young, dark haired, olive-skinned Italian kid that Ron could see the girls going completely gaga over. Needlehaus was an older gentleman with grayish white hair and a short closely cropped beard. Instinctively Ron felt that something was not quite right about this man. He was effusive and smooth, and Ron thought a bit too old to be more than a one year guy here, using the school as some kind of way station.

Sister Donna Maria introduced them both to Ron saying that he was one of the faculty leaders and that they should address any questions that they had about assimilating to the school to him. Anthony looked scared and Andrew appeared to be smug. Both new teachers stood in front of him waiting for him to say something.

“The girls are great but they will watch everything that you say and do, even more than students normally would. They’ll take note of everything that you wear, and they will watch you all the time and talk to each other about you. Just relax into it and you’ll be fine. They have hungry minds and open hearts. If I can be of any help, just let me know.”

“What do the nuns expect?” said Needlehaus.

“Mostly that we do our job and do it well.”

“Do they check lesson plans?”

“No they don’t, but it’s a good idea to have them for your own purposes.”

“I’ll probably just break out some old ones and get by using them. I retired from public school teaching last year and I don’t imagine that this will be significantly different. It really is all the same, isn’t it?”

Ron said, “I suppose you can look at it that way.” Ron turned his gaze to Anthony. “You know the girls are gonna think of you as quite a hunk, right?”

The kid blushed visibly and said, “Is there something that I can do about that?”

“You can use it to your advantage but make sure that you create a professional distance,” said Ron. As he said it he thought that it was the exact opposite from what he intended to do.

Again, Ron was in charge of the faculty council but this time it was explained at the faculty meeting that all of the lay teachers and nuns would submit their discipline referrals to him and he would keep the records of who needed to appear because of an excess of demerits. Donna Maria explained that discipline referrals should only be used after teachers had utilized their personal, in class, discipline. Ron noted, with disappointment, that Bernadette was not a member of the faculty council and would be in charge of both the choir and first Friday Mass preparations, and the family life units that all of the girls would now be required to take. Ron saw Holly Risotto across the room, but she stayed away and did not look at him. They had not spoken since the day that he drove her home. She had appeared after Easter vacation as if nothing had happened, and Ron had been cautioned by Bernadette that it would be better for her and for him if he did not mention the absurdity of her being back in the school. She told Ron that she would keep an eye on Holly, and make sure that she did not do any harm to herself or to the girls.

After lunch Ron wandered over to Bernadette’s classroom. She smiled when she saw him. There was an awkward moment when they almost hugged, but they both laughed and shook hands instead.

“Did you have a good summer, Ron?”

“I did,” said Ron, “but I’m glad to be back. What about you?”

“I got to spend some time back home in Philadelphia and it was good to see my family. For a while, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to come back.”

“Did you have a choice?”

She raised her eyebrow. “We always have choices, Ron. You must be excited. These are your girls.”

Ron felt the smile spread across his face. “Yes, they are. I want this year to be special for them.”

“So what are you teaching?”

“Senior English, Public Speaking, Creative Writing, Shakespeare Seminar, Sociology and Economics.”

“So you are still gonna work yourself silly?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Probably not for you, no.  Ron, what about your life? Do you have a girlfriend yet?”

“No one special.”

“You aren’t getting any younger, Ron. What are you thinking about?”

“I suppose that I’m not thinking about it at all.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Bernadette. “Whoever she was, Ron, she was a fool for not wanting you.”

“I don’t know, Bernadette. Maybe it was me who was the fool.”

 

The next day the girls arrived and Ron spent the first hour of the morning smiling and hugging them. He felt himself swelling with pride as he saw how they were growing up, about how the lights in their eyes were strong and bright and breathtakingly beautiful.

One of the improvements that Sister Donna Marie had instituted was a full school meeting that began the year. They would all meet, and then there was a much modified schedule where the girls would report to each of their classes for 10 minutes.

As each of the faculty was introduced, the girls applauded. Even for the teachers that they hated, there was polite applause. The new teachers got the benefit of the doubt and received an enthusiastic welcome, particularly Anthony Mancuso who got a few whistles that required Donna Maria to remind the girls that they were ladies. When Ron was introduced, the gym erupted in cheers. Some girls stood and cheered loudly and clapped and chanted “Tuck, Tuck, Tuck.”

Never in his life had Ron been greeted in even a vaguely similar way.  His cheeks burned with blush. He felt the wave of sound carry him up like he was surfing. He tried to make them stop but they kept cheering. He took his seat on the stage and Sister Donna Maria said, “I’m glad that I saved him for last. I’d hate to be the person that had to follow that.”

Ron kept his head down. He could not look at them because tears were threatening to brim out of his eyes. He loved them and they loved him back. He was convinced now more than ever before. This year he would give them everything that he had to give.

 

There were two senior English classes that met the first two periods of the day.  When they sat in the old room with the high creaky windows and the squeaky floor with just the crucifix and the portrait of Lincoln as decorations, Ron stood in back of his ever present podium with the class list. He called the roll and with each name a familiar face and story acknowledged him and there was an exchanged smile. It amazed them all how friendly the atmosphere in the class was and how happy they all were to be there. Ron could not stop smiling. The growth that had occurred over the summer, together with the potential that he saw, amazed him.

“I am really happy to see all of you. For the last couple of weeks, I have been anxious for the summer to be over and to get this started. We are going to have a great year. I’m going to drive you hard and it won’t always be easy, but you all know that we will have a lot of fun too and I hope that you think that it will be worth it.”

Vicky DelMarco raised her thin long arm into the air and turned her palm towards him. “Mr. Tuck, what did you do to yourself over the summer? You look almost hot and you aren’t dressing as corny as you usually dress. Are you in love Mr. Tuck?” Ron laughed and came out from behind the podium. Vicky turned to look at the rest of the class for support. “See what I mean? Look at him. Wow, Mr. Tuck.”

Giving her his very best dimpled grin and moving to stand right in front of her desk, Ron said, “I am in love Vicky.” He took a step back. “I’m in love with all of you.” They burst out laughing and he laughed with him. Vicky made a show of fanning herself with her hands. “Didn’t you want me to look good for you?”

Vicky was now playing along completely. “But you know that I have enough trouble concentrating as it is.” She turned to the class and made a hysterical face and rolled her Spanish eyes.

Ron lowered his voice to a whisper then he said loudly enough to project to the whole of the room. “But it will make me so sad if you don’t concentrate. You know how selfish I am Vicky. I want all of your attention all of the time.”

Now Vicky struck her own pose and said with fluttering eyes. “You couldn’t handle all of my attention, Mr. Tuck. I’d wear you out.”

The class laughed hard and the two or three girls who were new to the school sat with their mouths hanging open. This was not the type of classroom that they had ever been in before. This was not the type of classroom that they had ever even heard of before.

“Let’s find out,” said Ron. He turned to the chalkboard, took a breath and did it. There it was his phone number on the board. “I am here for all of you. This is my home phone number. I will give you as much energy as I have. That is my promise. What I want is the very same thing from you. I want as much energy as you have to give.”

The bell rang and the girls left as soon as it did. Ron saw that some of them wrote down the number. Vicky wrote it on the palm of her hand and showed it to him on the way out saying, “Now I can’t wash my hand all day.”

The atmosphere in the Shakespeare seminar was different. He knew all of them and, for the most part, he had invited all of them to join this special class.

Elena Gonzalez, maybe his best student, who he had challenged since freshman year when he had called her “Frowsy” because her shirt used to come out of her skirt and her hair was a wild and beautiful dark tangle. She hadn’t known what the word meant, but had looked it up that night and come into him the next day and stamped her foot in front of him and said that he had insulted her. But she had smiled before she turned away, and that had been the beginning of a challenging relationship where he pushed her and she pushed him back to push her more. Elena was now the class president and a spokesperson for student and Puerto Rican rights.

Ron looked from her to Elizabeth Holland, a paper thin waif looking blonde who had been too timid to speak to him for the first half of 9^th grade. She was always immaculately groomed and often quiet, but there was an angular quality about her and a drive that said she intended to prove herself not only to Ron and to the rest of her classmates but to her very strict mother and the rest of the world. She didn’t always like Ron’s teasing because she sometimes took it seriously and when she found out that it was a tease she would blush furiously and quietly steam and shoot daggers at him with her blue eyes.

She sat next to Donna Seaford who reveled in correcting Ron. She was a short girl with very black skin. Ron had once made the mistake of referring to her as an African American. She and her twin sister Deborah, who was very much her opposite, took a dual delight in telling him, with more than a little indignity, that they were Cuban, not Black.

In back of them sat Judith Wunderlan who had the face and body of a pixie. She was a bright girl who did her work and did not like to be pushed. She also did not like to ever shut up, and the two or three episodes that she had with Ron was when she had insisted on taking during class. She maintained that she was always talking about what was going on in the class, but Ron had contended that she could not talk and listen at the same time. Judith had maintained that she could.

This year Judith had vowed to sit next to Veronica Petrelli in as many classes as she could. Veronica was a good friend but very conscientious and quiet. Judith was hoping that her influence would be good for her. That was what she was saying publically, but privately she was hoping to bring Veronica more out of her shell and besides a quiet girl seldom interrupted her steady stream of chatter.

Paula Sandal felt the most insecure in this class. She had not been invited to join and she already had Tuck in three other classes. She was being “Fully Tucked” as Elena put it. Ron had spoken to her privately at the end of last year and asked her if she thought that she was overdoing it. She had answered resolutely that she had no other life and that if he could stand to have her in this many classes that she wanted to be there. Now it was here and what seemed like a good idea back then was intimidating her today. He was different and yet the same in each class. She listened and hoped that she could keep her head down here and excel in the creative writing class.

One of the other girls who had not been invited to join the Shakespeare class was Samantha Santorini. She had been dubbed as a party girl in 10^th grade when she had a boyfriend who was twenty-one years old. Sister Bernadette had found out about it and tried to talk some sense into the girl. When Samantha had scoffed at the notion, Bernadette had cautioned her that boys that age would want her to “go all the way.” Samantha had informed Bernadette that it was not only guys that age that expected the girls “to give it up” and that she had other ways of keeping them happy. Bernadette had been angry with her and cautioned some of the other girls to not follow Samantha’s example, and a war of wills had begun between the two of them. Ron, of course, was totally unaware of this. Samantha had taken this class to show Bernadette and the rest of the school that she had more than her looks going for her. She wanted them to know that she also had a brain. She was, as she liked to refer to herself, “a gift wrapped package.”

“We’re going to read eighteen plays this year,” began Ron. “Basically it’s going to be a play every two weeks, with some taking a little less time and some taking a little more. We won’t be doing Romeo and Juliet or Macbeth because you have already done those plays.”

Donna Seaford said, without raising her hand, “So this is the class where you try to kill us.”

“You could look at it that way, Donna, but what it really is the class where I show you what the pace at a good college is like.”

Then Ron showed them how serious he was by passing out a syllabus that had dates and titles of plays and testing dates mapped out for the entire year. The girls were shocked into silence by the enormity of what he had given them.

“Nope,” said Veronica. “Donna is right. This is where you kill us.”

 

At the end of the day, Ron felt himself filled with the energy that the girls had given him. He had no tutoring appointments because, at the beginning of the year, he usually didn’t have any students to tutor. His summer students had gone back to classes or made new arrangements. Ron drove back to his apartment and quickly changed into his running clothes and was on the track just as the football players were filling in for their afterschool practice up in Glen Ridge.

He got his first mile and a half in before they started their stretching. He saw the coaches looking at him strangely as he circled down to the field house at the end of the second mile.

“Excuse me, Sir,” said one of the coaches who was wearing than traditional light gray shorts and maroon t-shirt and baseball cap.

Ron slowed and came over to him. He was annoyed at having to break his stride. “Yes?”

“Can I ask what you are doing here?”

Ron shrugged. “This is where I always run.”

“I haven’t see you here before.”

“Usually I run in the mornings, but I’m back to school as well,” said Ron. “My family lives right over there.” Ron gestured to the back of the bleachers.

“You wouldn’t be scouting us for another team, would you Sir?”

“Not at all,” said Ron. He was flattered by the accusation. “I’d never do anything to hurt the Ridgers. Class of ’67. I played for the team. My name is Ron Tuck.”

Then he saw one of the assistant coaches who looked vaguely familiar. The head coach motioned the assistant over. “Richie you were class of ’67 right?” Richard Westin nodded. “You remember a Ron Tuck?”

“Sure, I remember Tuck. Hello Ron, you still wearing your leather jacket and shades?”

Ron grimaced and shook his hand. “Not so much anymore, Richie.”

Richie grinned at the head coach. “Ron’s alright. He sure ain’t no scout.”

“Just stay to the outside of the track when the team gets going, Mr. Tuck. Sorry to interrupt your workout.”

Ron heard Richie say to the other coaches as he started back into his run. “He wouldn’t know what he was seeing anyway.” The other coaches laughed and Ron felt his ears burn. It made him remember how inadequate they had always made him feel at this school. For the first time, he began to think about whether he really would enjoy coaching football.

Chapter 59

It had been almost a year since Ron had spoken with Warren and he needed a conversation. He wasn’t sure why he was still going back for these talks but from time to time he would feel the need and then he would make the inevitable phone call or drive down to the college and meet with his former professor and mentor.

It was a strange relationship that they had. Warren was often not particularly nice to Ron but he was always willing to see him. The conversation would be on Ron’s dime as Warren called it, at least it would start that way, but it usually transformed itself into something else. Sometimes Ron would have a specific agenda and sometimes it would be an ambiguous feeling that would sort itself out once they began to talk. The last time he had seen Warren he almost laughed out loud. Warren had dyed his hair and permed it so that it was curly. He was still rail thin and had a boyish never look older face and body.

He made the call early in the evening.

“Warren, it’s Ron.”

“How are you?” Warren drawled.

“I’m doing pretty well. How are you?”

“I couldn’t be better. I’m just back from Greece and getting ready for classes to start here in a couple of weeks.”

“I was thinking of taking a ride down.”

“That would be fine. We’re gonna be having dinner about nine here and you’re welcome to join us.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“See you when I see you,” said Warren.

Rahway was in its late summer ripeness of green and humidity. Neither of them lived with air conditioning and so the heat was not something that they ever thought about. The screened windows were all opened a sweet evening cross breeze moved the air in the rooms. They sat in the living room in front of the dormant fire place. Warren had a glass of wine. Ron was drinking seltzer.

“You’re looking very fit,” said Warren.

“I’ve been working at it.”

“What else have you been working at?”

It was always like that between them. They needed a project. Warren had admired Ron’s strength when they put a new kitchen floor into Rahway together. He had heard about that side of Ron before but he had never seen it in action until that day. It was the only time that Ron could remember Warren letting him take the lead on a project and his eyes were drawn to the floor each time he passed over it.

“It’s my 4^th year of teaching and the first group of students that I started with is going to graduate. I feel very close to them. I’m thinking of opening myself up to them in ways that I have never done before and I wanted your advice.”

“That depends on what you mean by opening yourself up?”

“I’m going to give them my home phone number and tell them that I’m there for them whenever they need me.”

“You want to be careful about that,” said Warren with a smile. “Students can drain you dry. They will never get enough of you and you’ll find that you can’t get rid of them when it’s time to move on.”

“Tell me what you mean,” said Ron.

“I mean that their needs can leave you with nothing left for yourself. Students don’t understand boundaries unless you provide them with a distinct set of rules. But the real question is why you think this is necessary.”

“This is a special group of kids. They have a chance to exceed everyone’s expectations for them, but some of them don’t know yet what they are capable of achieving.”

“That may be true but why do you feel the need?”

“I’m not sure. Why did you feel the need to do it with us?”

“I was interested in pushing the boundaries of how people lived and learned. You guys were hungry for something more and don’t forget I was done teaching classes to all of you before Chris and I started this place.”

“You ever think about Chris?”

“I think about him often and I still love him dearly. I believe that I saved his life although I am sure that he would not agree.”

Ron laughed and lit a cigarette. “No, I’m sure that he wouldn’t.”

“My relationship with Chris was an attempt at true partnership. It was a mutual trust that both of us eventually violated.

“I suppose that’s true.” Ron sat back and thought about that.

“You didn’t come here to talk with me about Chris,” said Warren. “Have you heard from Robin?”

“Not since she wrote and told me that she was moving in with another guy.”

“Do you think that she still had a hold on you?”

“I don’t know.” Ron was totally sure that he had not come here to talk about Robin. He had noticed that not one meeting between them went by that he did not mention her name. He wondered again, as he had countless times before, if Robin had ever slept with him.

“Would you say no to her if she wanted to give the relationship another try?”

“No, I’d jump at the chance.”

“That’s honest. Would you give up teaching if that’s what it took?”

“No, I would never give up teaching. I’m sure of that.”

“Teaching really is what saved you,” said Warren. “Is this desire to open yourself up more fully to your students a way of replacing what it is that you wish that you had with Robin?”

Ron didn’t know what to say. It was a profound insight and aside from the idea that it left him feeling weak and cast his devotion to his students in a self-serving light, he could not dispute it.

“She touched my spirit in a way that no one else ever has.”

“What she did was put your spirit in a chokehold from which you have still not escaped.”

“I don’t think that she even realizes that.”

“The question is whether or not you realize it.”

Ron tried to change the subject. “You know, I use some of the techniques that you used in the classroom.”

“We all borrow from each other. Sometimes we out and out steal from each other. I’m getting a little hungry here and I think that it’s time to wake Janine up.”

Ron smiled. He liked Janine. She was Warren’s other woman. When Kelly wasn’t around there was always Janine. She was a tall dark-haired beauty that Chris had loved and wanted to run away with. She had turned him down and stayed with Warren, although she had slept with him whenever Warren was up in Boston visiting Kelly. Ron knew that it had broken Chris’s heart. Warren had encouraged the two of them to sleep together and Ron believed, although he had never asked Chris that the three of them, maybe with the addition of a fourth person—a female— had all slept together.

Janine kissed Ron and hugged him. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Ron. How have you been?”

“I’m well,” said Ron smiling. “You look terrific.”

Janine struck a pose in front of Warren and said, “See! I look terrific.”

Warren drawled. “Ron hasn’t seen you without your clothes on. You’re getting too thin.”

Dinner was just the three of them. Warren sat near the window in his accustomed spot and Janine sat in the middle. Ron placed himself in the place that he would always consider Chris’s chair. They ate salad and steak. Ron wondered if Warren was eating steak every night as he did when they had the communal dinners.

Warren looked at Janine. “Did you ever want to sleep with Ron?”

She looked embarrassed by the question and didn’t answer. Ron felt himself tense at the question. What kind of a thing was that to ask the girl?

“Come on,” said Warren. “Did you ever want to sleep with him?”

Janine did not look at Ron. Quietly she said, “No.”

“Why not?”

Ron was silent and remembered why he sometimes hated Warren.

Janine said, “Warren please stop. Please don’t do this.”

“He needs to hear it. Tell him.”

Very quietly she said, “He belongs to Robin.”

Warren smiled at Ron, who had stopped eating. Janine continued. “It’s the only time that I ever saw him sit up straight.”

Ron realized that he was slumping and fought the urge to sit up straight.

Warren wasn’t finished. “Zoe never had a chance, did she?”

“I felt sorry for Zoe from the first time that I ever saw the two of them together.”

Warren sat back. “That’s why your students can give you something rare and meaningful, but you better know what you’re doing before you go and open yourself up to them. You better be really certain that you know what it is that you have to offer them”

 

 

Chapter 58

Ron finished tutoring a little before 2 pm on Saturday. He drove down to his mother’s car and traded his two door for Lois’s hatch back Nissan. The hatch and the collapsible back seat gave him enough room for the plaster casted pieces that he would load into the back and the excellent springs on the new car made the ride smooth enough so that he didn’t have to worry about breakage.

Denise gave him very precise directions to her family’s house in the Forest Hills section. It was one of the only remaining upscale sections left in Newark and Ron pulled into a driveway that was short and elevated up to a modern looking home with a statue of the Blessed Virgin outside in front of the house. The statue was clad in blue and Ron felt queasy when he looked at it. He wondered if his teaching at the Catholic school had perhaps given Denise and her mother the wrong idea.

Denise was wearing a matching shorts and top set that was blue and covered in daisies. Her white strapped sandals also had daisies on the crossing strap.

When she got into the car, Ron said with a grin. “You’re looking fresh.”

She held out up her right foot and fingered the plastic flower. “As a daisy, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Ron.

“Well, a girl’s got to be coordinated.”

“Why?”

“Because, Ronald,” she said with a teasing grin, “when I look good on the outside it helps me to feel good on the inside.”

“I never thought about it.”

“You’re a guy. Most guys don’t think about it that way.”

“I used to,” said Ron. “When I was a kid and worked for Ripley Clothes, I did the whole bit. I wore the high rolls and I had a leather and a suede from Cooper Leather. I sent everything that I wore to the cleaners.”

“What happened?” she asked with sincerity and a serious gaze.

“Well, we moved for one thing.”

She put her arm lightly on his shoulder and said, “You can take the boy out of Newark but you can never really take the Newark out of the boy. That’s what I think anyway.”

There was something about the boy girl thing that she kept doing that Ron was finding disconcerting. It was like she had this manual in her head about the way that things were supposed to be. “Do you really believe all that?”

“I don’t know if I believe all of it. I know that if I was walking down the street with a guy like you that I would feel safe. I don’t think that part of you is changeable.”

Ron thought about that. Robin had always said that she felt very safe with him. Zoe had said that he wanted to protect her. Maybe she had something.

“I think college changed me,” said Ron.

“Was it a good change?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “I think I would have gone crazy without it. Not that I’m not fairly fucked up now, but I mean really crazy.”

“Do you always use that language?” she said quickly.

“What language?”

“You know. That word.”

Ron laughed. “We used it all the time in Newark.”

“But not on a first date,” said Denise.

They were on the Parkway heading south and Ron wished that he could turn to look into her eyes but he was going too fast for that. “One of the things that I learned in college was that there is no such thing as a bad word, Denise.”

“My Dad says that college people think too much.”

All at once Ron felt like he was with a being from another planet. It was Planet Pasta where everyone had statues of saints and never shit where they ate. It was the world of frozen behaviors where people acted out the same melodramas over and over. He felt superior. But then again, didn’t she want him to feel superior? Wasn’t that one of the rules on Planet Pasta?

Ron turned on the radio. “What kind of music do you like?” he asked.

“I like all kinds but mostly I like the oldies,” said Denise.

Of course you do, thought Ron.

Then Denise added, “But Sinatra is still the best.”

This last comment threw Ron into confusion. In his heart he loved Sinatra, but he kept this passion well hidden from his friends. They would never understand and the one time he had talked with Chris about it, he had made a dismissive face and said “Strings make me sick.”

“I was raised on Sinatra,” said Ron.

“Me too,” said Denise.

Then Ron said very quietly, “His politics suck.”

“I don’t know what his politics are,” she said. “But what have they got to do with his music?”

“I like music that is sung by the people who wrote it. It makes me think that it is really what they feel and think.”

“How do you know that it isn’t what he feels and thinks?”

“It could be,” said Ron. He felt some inner confusion and turmoil that he didn’t want to feel. It dismissed it all saying, “It’s my mother’s music. It’s World War 2 music. It’s over. It’s music for a different time.”

“Whose music do you like to listen to?”

“Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, Leonard Cohen.” Ron recited from his internal pantheon.

“I’ve heard of Bob Dylan but I don’t know the rest of those people.”

“Joni and Jackson are kind of the California sound.”

“Like the Beach Boys?” said Denise. “I like their music.”

“Not quite like the Beach Boys,” said Ron patiently. Internally he was feeling guilty about rolling his eyes when he said it. He couldn’t help but remember the hours that he spent playing Help Me Ronda and I Get Around and he even liked the Sloop John B. but that wasn’t serious music, not the way that his music was serious.

“Ron, do you think that you’re a snob?”

Ron laughed and said, “I think that I probably am and I worked hard to get this way.”

“Why did you do that?”

Ron thought for a moment. Somewhere deep inside of himself a voice said that it was because he wanted to be accepted, but he dismissed that response with a cynical voice that said he should never disclose anything like that on a first date. Quietly he said, “Because I didn’t want to be second rate and backward anymore.”

He saw her wince and felt her recoil as surely as if he had slapped her in the face. He felt the need to continue. “When I got to college, I realized just how ignorant and ill prepared I was and made a promise to myself that I could be better.”

She touched his shoulder again and said, “I admire your drive.”

Street Fighting Man came on the radio and Ron prayed that she would not ask him if he thought that Mick Jaggar really believed in his heart the things that he was singing about.

The ceramics warehouse was a large, dusty hanger that looked like it used to house much larger equipment. The unpainted, unfired pieces were stored on long low shelves that stretched along all of the walks and made aisles in the center of the structure. Ron had a shopping list and a flat bed, two tiered trolley on which he would carefully place each piece after inspecting it for cracks or chips. It was definitely a buyer beware situation and Ron had learned to inspect each piece with a careful eye. Denise walked in back of him and he could feel her eyes on him as he lifted the pieces up and ran his finger gently across the surfaces and the bases of the soon to be ceramic projects. He felt responsible for this phase of the business and both Lois and his mother would praise his eye and the care that he used to make sure that they only got those things that they could sell.

When they passed by the eagles and the owls, Ron grinned teasingly and said, “I can see these in your future.”

Denise started to say that she liked the owls but then she stopped herself when she saw the slight smirk and twinkle in his eyes. She would have to learn when he was teasing her or else she would never feel like she had firm footing. Maybe she should let him enjoy teasing her. Maybe he would like that. It was kind of exciting that she wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but it also made her nervous. She supposed guys needed to be a little bit arrogant. It was who they were. But it was better when their egos were more transparent, like when he stared at her body with that lust filled look, but he hadn’t looked at her that way once since they had come into the warehouse.

Denise moved in front of him and bent over at the waist for apiece on one of the lowest shelves. She smiled to herself when she felt his eyes on her. There it was. He was still interested. She lifted a pumpkin up and said, “Do you like Halloween?”

“Not so much,” said Ron.

After they checked out and he loaded the pieces into the hatchback, he said, “Would you like to walk by the ocean?”

She took his hand and said, “I would love that.”

She watched as he took off his shoes and socks. She frowned when she saw the bear claws that he had for toenails but didn’t say anything about them. She slipped off her sandals and they walked along the sand. Ron had his shoes in one hand with the socks stuffed inside of them, and she held her sandals and felt his hand slide around her waist and rest low on her hip. His hand was a little bit too low on her hip and she tried to raise it up to her waist, but compromised by moving closer so that her hip pressed against his as they walked.

Ron could not help but think of Robin and the way that the two of them had always fallen into a perfect rhythm when they walked. He grew quiet and stared at the water.

Denise said, “I know that I’m changing my ideas about things, but the changes don’t happen overnight and, with work and all, it’s real easy to get into a pattern.”

“Do you think that your patterns are good for you?”

“I never thought about it. They just are there and I go along with them.”

“You can’t change if you go along,” said Ron. Then he stopped in the middle of the beach and kissed her.

She had wanted him to kiss her. She felt her heart speed up at the feel of his lips on hers but then he was opening his mouth and his hand was sliding lower on her hip and squeezing her behind. She stiffened and broke the kiss off and stepped back. “Ron, I just met you.” She saw the disappointment on his face. He looked like her father did when her mother said that they were having chicken for dinner. “I liked kissing you,” she said in a conciliatory tone.

“Let’s go back to the car,” said Ron.

She wanted him to say something else. She wanted him to ask her one of his hard questions that would make her think and she could feel like she was learning, but he wasn’t saying anything. The kiss was hanging over them like a dark cloud that wasn’t doing anything but blocking the sun. “Don’t be mad at me,” she said.

When he started the car, Ron said, “When I was seventeen I went out with this girl named Patty. I really liked Patty. I thought she was one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen”

Denise was happy that he was talking but why was he talking about an old girlfriend? That wasn’t exactly the conversation that she was hoping to have.

“Anyway, you remind me of Patty. She had rules too.”

“Everyone has rules, Ron.”

“That’s true,” said Ron. His jaw tightened and she saw those high cheekbones, and the way that they gave a hollow to his cheeks and seemed to darken his eyes. “My rule is not to make a game out of intimacy.”

Ron knew, of course, that this wasn’t true. He just liked different kinds of games, and the idea that on the second date that he got to squeeze her tits and maybe by date five she might brush her hand over his cock was his idea of a gigantic waste of time. She would kiss him passionately before the night was over but anytime he went to touch one of the hotspots on her body, her “good girl” would kick in and she would stop him. What was he doing here? He was truly a moonlight mile further down the road than this.

“It’s not that it’s a game. It’s what I feel comfortable doing.”

Ron smiled at her but there was sadness in his smile. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry that I offended you.”

“I wasn’t offended,” she protested. Now she was confused. He was making her feel like she was a silly kid and she didn’t like the feeling. “I guess that I’m just a traditional girl.”

“I gave that up a long time ago,” said Ron. “I think it would be pretty impossible for me to go back to it.

Chapter 57

The ceramics shop was right on Bloomfield Avenue just one block out of Newark. Ron knew that this small distance was important to his mother. Somehow, she would have seen it as a failure if she had returned to work in Newark for any reason, but that shop had a Bloomfield address and that made all the difference to her. Lois, who had also been a lifelong resident of Newark and a neighborhood fixture didn’t care or see it that way, but she was glad to accommodate her partner.

It was a storefront that was located between a meat market and a liquor store and that made parking difficult, but Marjorie had worked out a deal with a bank a short block down the street and in exchange for giving free classes to any of their employees, her clients were allowed to park in the bank once they had secured cards that read The Ceramic Kitchen and placed them on the driver’s side of their front windshield. Marjorie carefully monitored the distribution of cards and chastised Lois every time one of her family members or friends used a card to park with convenience. Lois took the verbal punishment, but surreptitiously continued to distribute the cards while cautioning their recipients to not “say anything.”

Ron did not have a card and so he circled the block several times before he was lucky enough to catch someone pulling out and parked on the street. The shop itself consisted of a large, open workspace with long banquet style tables and folding chairs. There were heavy wooden shelves along two walls of the room and it was here that the customers marked and stored their unfinished pieces. At the front of the store was another large, lighted case that contained finished pieces that Marjorie and Lois had completed and which were for sale. They were also the demonstration models, showing what could be accomplished when someone was proficient in the craft. Christmas trees with embedded lights, lamps, large dolls and platters along with various other kind of dust-catching bric-a-brac decorated every square inch of the front shelves. Wedding favors were becoming a new favorite and Marjorie had large books that she could use to encourage people to take advantage of what she referred to as the personal touch. The smaller back room held two kilns and a supply of newly casted pieces. Marjorie and Lois had not yet purchased the molds that they would need to really turn a profit. It was also here that a large collection of paints and brushes and water dishes were stored. A small bathroom was off the side of the back room and Marjorie had taken pains to make sure that it was neat, decorated and cleaned every day. She did not do the cleaning herself anymore, but Lois was glad to oblige.

There were a dozen women seated around the tables when Ron came through the front door. Marjorie was smoking a Virginia Slim with a half painted clown in front of her.

“Ronald,” she called out. “What a nice surprise.”

Ron smiled and moved to his Mom and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi Mom.” He knew from her greeting that he was supposed to play along about him coming there casually.

“Everyone,” announced Marjorie, “this is my son Ronald.” Marjorie beamed as Ron flashed his best dimpled grin at the women. Marjorie began her introductions. “This is Mrs. Porcelli, and Mrs. Triano and Mrs. Rolandelli and Mrs. Scafetti and Mrs. DelaTorre and her daughter Denise.” Marjorie went on and on until she had introduced Ron to everyone in the shop. Ron tried to keep the smile on his face but it got plastered there and then begin to hurt and cause his face to ache until he was sure that his smile had turned into a grimace. He tried giving each of the women a new smile commensurate with her name and that seemed to help. He noticed Mrs. Delatorre nudge Denise and the girl stood up and went to into the back room to use the bathroom.

Ron’s gaze took her in quickly. She was about 5’6” and had a set of gorgeous breasts and a firm and round rear that moved with an easy sway as she walked in front of him and then disappeared into the back room. She was wearing snug brown slacks and tan flowered blouse that was color matched to her pants. Her hair was a deep lustrous brown and bounced on her shoulders as she moved.

“Ronald drives down to the shore and picks up new pieces for us every weekend.” The ladies smiled and nodded.

Mrs. Delatorre nodded and said, “What do you do for a living, Ronald?”

“He’s a teacher,” said Marjorie. Ron felt himself start to bristle but took a long slow breath, inhaling from his nostrils and then exhaling from his mouth in an easy way that he hoped was not noticeable.

“In the summer time, I mostly tutor,” he said.

“It must be very nice to have the summers off,” said Mrs. Rolandelli. “I think that you know my son, Butchie.”

“Sure,” said Ron. “I remember Butchie Rolandelli from the old neighborhood. How’s he doing?”

“He’s a fireman. He’s married and has two children.”

“Wow,” said Ron. “That’s great. Give him my best.”

“Look at the time already,” said Marjorie. “The hour and a half just flies, doesn’t it?”

“It always does when you are among friends and are out of the house,” said Mrs. Triano.

Everyone laughed softly and then they began to clean off their tables and put their pieces back on the shelves.

Denise came out of the back room and moved towards Ron and his mother. She flashed her sparklingly white teeth in a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Ron.” She extended her hand and Ron took it. It was slightly damp from the bathroom sink and she squeezed his hand lightly as they completed their introduction. Ron looked into her face and it was warm and welcoming with a sparkle in her eyes that told him that she was also playing along.

“So what are you working on?” said Ron.

“Oh, let me show you,” she said.

She moved to her place at the table making sure that Ron got a good look at her from behind. Ron followed and found himself attracted to the way that she moved and seemed so easy with him.

“It’s a group of bluebirds in a tree,” she said as she picked it up from under the base and held it up for him.

“It looks like a lot of work,” said Ron, not sure what else to say about the tree and the birds that perched on its branches.

She shrugged and grinned. “It’s for my grandmother. She loves birds.”

“Maybe you should buy her a parakeet,” said Ron.

Denise giggled and said, “I don’t think she would like a real bird. They make noise and my grandfather likes the house quiet.”

Ron wondered how much longer he was gonna have to stay before he could flee this place. He nodded.

“You know how the old people are,” she said. She leaned into him and said softly. “Thank you for not saying how ugly it is.”

Ron was slightly startled by this. “It’s just different from me.”

“Me too,” confided Denise, “but my Nana would do anything for me and it’s the least that I can do for her.”

Ron liked this and smiled for her. “I can understand that. I was the same way with my Aunt Dottie.

“There’s the real smile,” she said. “So much better than the other one.”

Ron felt himself blush. This girl wasn’t dumb. “I guess you’re going home with your Mom now,” he said.

“Yes, I get up very early during the week, but tomorrow is Friday, thank God.”

“When are you driving down the shore, Ronald?” called Marjorie from the other side of the room. “Mrs. Porcelli wants to order a piece and I’m hoping we can have it for her by Monday.”

“I’ll go down on Saturday afternoon after I get done with my appointments,” said Ron.

Then on an impulse he turned to Denise. “Want to take a ride down with me on Saturday?”

“Well it is Thursday night and I think that I’m supposed to say that I’m busy, but I’m really not doing anything and I would love to go.”

She gave Ron her phone number and Ron told her that he would call when he was done on Saturday and she could tell him where she lived.

“That will be exciting,” she said. “I love the ocean.”

That night Ron called Chris Calvin. Although months went by during the school year when they did not speak to each other, during the summer it was different. Chris had just passed the New Jersey Bar exam and was now a full-fledged lawyer. Although he was still living on East 6^th Street, the reasons for his residence in Manhattan were dwindling.  He had graduated from NYU. He had graduated from New York Law. Much of the tuition for both institutions had come from the dealing of pot, which he had not done in over a year now. He still liked to see Ron but it was time for Chris to begin his serious life and that meant making connections. Ron really wasn’t going to be of any help in that regard and Chris knew that the two of them would no doubt drift further and further apart until they saw each other once or twice a year, if that. Chris thought Ron was bright but he was still hopelessly idealistic and did not want to do what it would take to be able to enjoy the finer things in life. That was what Chris wanted. The first step in the plan was someone with whom he could start a family, a woman that he could see himself with for a long time. He wanted a woman who was interested in having children and he was pretty sure that he had found her.

Hope Stafford was a pretty woman. She was divorced and had a little girl but she was young and strong and healthy. What’s more she came from a socially secure family and had been a debutante. Chris liked this very much. She had good genes. She knew how to conduct herself and she could show Chris things that he needed to know and tell him things that he needed to do. It never occurred to Chris that the money would not follow but what he knew he needed was a good foundation upon which he could build.

“Hey Chris, its Ron. How ya doin?”

“Good,” said Chris. “What are you up to?”

“I was thinking of driving in, maybe play a little music and hang for a while.”

“That would be cool,” said Chris. “I was thinking that I could use a day off tomorrow.”

Ron laughed. “Alright. How is the supply situation?”

“Low but easily rectified.” said Chris.

When Ron got there, Chris called “dial-a-dime.” He had been turned on to it while he was at New York Law. A quick call with an address that was on the customer list and within a half hour, someone appeared on the street in front of your apartment with a quarter ounce. The cost was $20 and the quality was good.

They sat cross-legged on the floor of his tiny apartment while Ron cleaned and rolled and Chris selected some music. He always had music that Ron hadn’t heard and Ron usually found it good although he tended to want to return to his favorites after he listened to the new stuff. More and more Chris was finding that it was the only time that he listened to this music and it occurred to him more than once that Ron seemed trapped in it and willing to listen to it over and over. Ron was different since Robin. He seemed more interested in reliving old experiences than he was in having new ones. Chris hoped that it was a phase from which he would emerge before it became too boring to continue to tolerate. Ron had even started writing a book about their days at college. Nostalgia was not all that attractive.

Mose Allison was cooing the song “Everybody’s Crying Mercy” as they smoked the first of the three joints that Ron had rolled.

“I met a girl,” said Chris.

“Alright!” said Ron triumphantly. “What’s her name?”

“Hope.”

“And is there?”

Chris grinned. “I think there might be.”

“What does she look like?”

“Well, why don’t you hang till tomorrow morning and you can see for yourself and maybe give us a ride back over to Jersey.”

“I can do that,” said Ron. “So, what does she look like?”

“Strawberry blonde hair, sweet face I’d say about 5’5” and well- constructed.”

Ron was nodding and smiling and sucking on the joint. He passed it to Chris. The smoke was filling his brain and giving the apartment a comfortable easy feel. The warm, humid air now seemed to have the whisper of a breeze. The pillows felt soft. Ron felt himself climbing up the music on spirals of smoke. His head was starting the feel good. His body was relaxing. He sucked in very hard when the joint came back to him and then he began to cough and choke. The lack of air made his head buzz and he closed his eyes and rode the spasmodic coughs until he could breathe again and when he reopened his eyes, he was in an even better place. “Damn, dial-a- dime. That was good!”

Chris giggled. “Iron lung still going strong,” he said. He sat back still somewhat amazed that Ron immediately lit the second joint. “You are amazing.”

“What?” laughed Ron.  “We’re almost there but it’s like the big leagues. It’s hard to get there but you have to work even harder to stay at that level.”

Chris lay back against the pillows and smoked the second joint with Ron. They passed it between them over a large Italian pasta bowl that Chris used to collect his seeds and stems. He was always able to eke out another joint if he needed it, unless Ron stayed around too long.

“You heard from The Sheriff?” said Chris.

“Not in a while, but I heard from April that he asked Laureen to move out.”

“Of course,” laughed Chris in his imitation Southern drawl. “There was only so much that he could do for her.”

They both laughed. The idea of Warren “doing it for ya” was shorthand for him wanting you around only as long as he found the situation amusing and then finding some excuse as to why it would be in everybody’s best interest if that person left Rahway, which Warren would explain was not really that person’s home but his home. And now it was time for that person to move onto something new.

After the second joint, Ron immediately lit the third. Chris reached for his guitar and told Ron to go ahead. He lay back and sucked it like a sweet nipple while Chris played his version of “Long Black Veil.” His voice was low and the rhythm of his guitar was right on the melody. When he forgot some of the words as he inevitably did, he would pause before starting again. It always amazed Ron that he could start and stop the melody that way and always seem to go right back into the feeling of the song. They did best when Ron sang and Chris played. It allowed Chris to just concentrate on the guitar and there weren’t a lot of songs to which Ron did not know all the words. His singing was awful but at least it kept him involved.

Ron thought that Hope Stafford was perfect for Chris. They seemed like two pieces of a soon to be joined puzzle. His thick, dark hair and her light flowing crop with wisps that occasionally dangled down in front of her eyes and caused her to raise her fingers and push them away as if there was something that she did not want to miss passing in front of her gaze. They both giggled contagiously. She seemed to strike these natural poses for him, and he seemed to delight in watching her. They spoke to each other tenderly and she would run her fingers along his shoulders for no apparent reason except for the joy of touching him, and he would sit very still for it like a cat that wanted to purr.

She smiled for Ron and kissed him on the cheek and pressed her breasts into his chest when she did it. Ron did not find himself aroused by it, but he was pleased at what the promise of her meant for his friend. In the few seconds that they had alone, he smiled at Chris and said, “She’s got my vote.”

Chris smiled at Ron as if what he had said mattered and nodded enthusiastically. By now Ron had figured out that when Chris had a woman that his tendency was to disappear with her into a cocoon that did not extend to his friends. So Ron knew that he wouldn’t be seeing a lot of Chris, but it really didn’t matter that much. The school year would be starting in just a couple of weeks.