Since Sunday, January 23, 2000 05:05 PM

Chapter 14 - Where Was I?

    She was still busy writing.  Jay watched the girl in the red flannel shirt for a while and wondered, casually, if it was a term paper, a story, or what?   He looked over at the Tri-met driver.  She was going to be leaving, momentarily.  They only had a fifteen minute layover.  The MTV was blaring some obnoxious sounding claptrap from the television, but it didn't seem to bother her while she'd been reading.  Jay, on the other hand, was through with his reading assignment, but couldn't keep from being distracted long enough to get into any other schoolwork.

    The sun was sinking lower in the cobalt-blue sky and the shadows grew longer and longer, until they reached up and engulfed the heavens with their bone-chilling cold.  Ah, yes. Jay remembered that cold, without any fondness, from waiting for a bus the week before.  It never arrived.  The line that he was waiting for had quit running a couple hours before he reached Milwaukie.  He wasn't feeling well and wanted to get home.  Naturally, if he'd taken the 33 he would've at least been able to get to within ten blocks of home.

    The cold, that night, had felt good....until it began to pierce his "T"-shirt and skin.  He was miserable, and watching the leaves whirling and tumbling in the dim street light seemed to heighten the gloom and desolation of the scene:  an image of autumn that he wanted to incorporate into his writing sometime.  It seemed like a natural environment for him, gloomy and desolate.  Yes, he thought, that's my natural habitat.

He looked back at the girl in the red flannel shirt.  "God, she has nice breasts!", he thought.  He began to imagine unbuttoning her red flannel shirt and exposing the lacy-white femininity of her bra, contrasting sharply with the masculinity of the flannel shirt.  The mental image of the girl's bra wasn't enough to satisfy his probing imagination.  He swiftly dispatched the clasp of her bra with one hand.... a feat that he took dubious pride in being able to accomplish.... and exposed the twin, pink-tipped mounds of her breasts.  It suddenly occurred to him that he was mentally ravishing a married woman!  Who cares, he thought.  It's not the first time, and it won't be the last.  Besides, what does it hurt?  How can there be a victim in mental rape?  She doesn't even know she's been violated.  Surely, he thought, I'm not the only man.... or woman.... who's perpetrated a crime of passion beyond the law's ability to prosecute.

    Again his thoughts returned to her alabaster breasts, standing impudently like two cherry topped Hostess Snoballs, defiantly inviting him to caress the satin smoothness of their flanks.  Not one to refuse an invitation, his hands began to scale the firm but yielding softness to the nipples at the summit.  He felt his mouth begin to moisten as he imagined his lips engulfing the nipple as his tongue attempted to clamp it against his palate.

    God!  This is pure torment, he thought.  I've got to think about something else!  His eyes reluctantly shifted back to the television set.  M.T.V. was playing a John Cougar Mellancamp number.  He felt as though he'd just been caught in bed with someone's wife.  He noticed that several other people had entered the room while he'd been engrossed in imagining his passionate assault on the girl in the red flannel shirt.

    There was nothing vulgar or obscene in what he'd been thinking.  Why should he feel guilty for an act he never committed?  Thoughts of guilt reminded him of the time at the Spinning Wheel Bar when he couldn't remember that strange girl.  His unfounded feelings of guilt vanished as he remembered that uncomfortable occasion from the recent past.

Chapter 15 - Natural Habitat

    Barstools seemed to spring from the floor, like mushrooms in the dim light beneath the horseshoe-shaped counter.  A juke-box blinked it's neon eyes and glowed, gaily, from the corner near a door.   Above the door was a sign with a black, handwritten message on a piece of stained wood indicating "Restrooms" were beyond.  To the right of the juke-box stood a video-poker game flashing it's redundant invitation to "try your luck" alternating with instructions and rules.  Fill my belly with your foolishness,  Jay thought, as he let his eyes adjust to the dimness.  The sun was shining brilliantly outside, even though there was an autumn nip in the air.  One-fifteen and there's over twelve hours 'til closing!

    The rest of the room consisted of scattered tables and chairs, a couple booths, a dance floor, a bandstand in the far corner, and of course, the crowning glory of this dilapidated domain, the bar.  There was one woman sitting there, casually surveying the liquor bottles like a jaded queen surveying her tawdry jewels.

    "Katey, you look swamped!"  Jay said.  He had an annoying tendency to facetiousness.

    "You bet, Jay."  The attractive looking blonde woman behind the bar made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire bar.  "How did you manage to fight your way through the crowd and find a seat at the bar?"  She smiled at him, and leaned on the bar with her elbows while the backs of her hands cradled her chin.  "What've you been up to lately, I haven't seen you for about a month?  Are you still living in Canby?"

    "No, I'm living in Portland now."  He'd been standing at the order-cage, where the waitresses make their orders during busy hours, but now decided to sit down and order.  He glanced to his right, at the woman who'd been there when he came in, and then back to Katey.  He watched her take glasses from the glass-washer until he caught her eye.  He nodded toward the woman with a perplexed expression, hoping that Katey would catch his meaning without having to ask who the girl was.

    Katey caught his meaning and shrugged.  "Is there anything else I can get you, Jay?"

    He thought for a moment and then replied "Oh, how 'bout a Scotch 'n water?"  He would've preferred a Black Russian, but they cost too much, went down too easy, and got him drunk too fast.  After all, he still had the rest of the night ahead and didn't know how much of that time he'd be drinking.  He looked back at the lady sitting two stools away.  She hadn't even turned her head when he came in.  That was unusual.  Every time someone walks into a bar, almost everyone looks to see who it is.  She just sat there, like now, examining every seat in the bar's reflection, in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, as if seeking some familiar phantom.

    She was an attractive brownette with hair, a mass of short curls, covering her head like a Grecian sculpture.  Evidently she'd recently had a permanent.  Her bangs were too long though, and she had to keep brushing them out of her feline blue-gray eyes.  They appeared darker and more mysterious because of the dark eye shadow and eyeliner she used.  They were pretty eyes though....the kind that break a guy's heart when they cry and fill his heart with cheer when they radiate from a smiling face.  There were little wrinkles near the corners that betrayed her age.  Jay was an eye man....after tits and ass, anyway....and relied heavily on eye contact to determine the veracity of what people say.  "Eyes tell no lies", he always said.  In this case he figured her to be in her late thirties, probably about his age, but definitely not forty.  She was about five-foot-seven or eight, a little taller than Jay preferred, but not too tall for a possible lover.  He could never guess women's weight, but knew that she wasn't either over or underweight for her size.  Her figure was generally lean, but ample, and she dressed to accent her natural endowments.  She definitely had a talent for accenting her gifts!  He turned away when he saw her look toward him, but not until he knew she knew he'd been examining her assets.  "So what's new, Katey?"

    "Oh, you know, same ol' shit around here."

    "Ah, come on, it only seems like the same ol' shit when you're here all the time.  When you leave for a while you find out how much happens when you're gone.  I just found out that Joe and Pam were getting a divorce!  Hell, they've been separated for three months and I didn't even know they'd split up!"  Joe was Jay's ex-girlfriend's brother.  Mary, Jay's ex., had really been excited when Joe and Pam's baby boy had been born several months before.  "I wonder who's going to get little Davey?"  He already knew that the Mother customarily gets custody, but just felt like making conversation.

    "You know Pam will get him."

    "Sure, but I hope he gets good visitation.  Davey was his pride and joy."

    "I don't think Pam's going to be dirty about that.  I guess they get along okay, they just weren't cut out to be married to each other."

    Jay could identify with that.  After all, Joe was Mary's brother, and Jay'd lived with her for just short of a year when she decided that she didn't love him the way she thought she should and went back to her ex-husband.  Jay still wasn't completely over Mary.  He glanced in the direction of the brunette and found she was looking at him.  He quickly averted her glance, picked up his Scotch, and took a drink.  It was okay for him to check-out women, but he felt really uncomfortable when he was being checked-out.

    Every time he'd turn around she'd be looking at him with those ice-blue eyes of hers.  They seemed to pierce his very soul.  He tried to ignore her, but couldn't!  After what seemed like an hour of this torment he decided the only way to end it was to confront her.  "My name's Jay." he finally said.  "Have I met you in here before?"

    She didn't answer him, but an impudent grin began to creep across her face.  She was staring at a picture of a witch sitting in the hollow of a crescent moon, printed on a mirror.  He knew she was looking at his reflection.  She couldn't see the consternation in his thoughts though.  "I know I've seen you somewhere before."  Jay said in frustration.  "You probably think that's the oldest line in the book, and I suppose it is.... if I haven't."  Her only response was to tip her drink to her pale pink lips and take a sip."  He couldn't figure out if that half-smile was self-righteousness or amusement with his dilemma.

    He knew she knew him and expected him to show some sign of recognition that completely eluded him.  The inability to recall where or when he'd seen her filled him with feelings of bewilderment and anxiety.  Maybe he'd met her when he was drunk....one of those nightmarish nights he couldn't remember.

    She ordered her fourth Irish Coffee.  Apparently beginning to feel the alcohol, she seemed to be loosening up.  "I know you don't remember me, Jay..." She paused as she picked up her steaming opaque-white cup, held it gingerly to her lips, and sipped.  When she removed it there was a pink imprint of her lips on the rim of the cup.  "...and I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have the advantage on you for a change!"

    That's a laugh, Jay thought, women always have the advantage on me.  Every since that girl he'd met standing under one of those English Elms at Benson, when he was in high school.  It seemed that since then he was always "falling in love".  Everyone told him he was just "falling in lust", but if that was all it was, he'd fallen so many times that he couldn't tell the difference anymore.  Love or lust, when he fell he fell hard!  As long as he felt desire for a girl, he only had eyes for her.  He couldn't remember how many times he'd wondered how long that desire would continue if she didn't change emotional direction and leave him high and dry.

    She didn't say another word before she left.  She just finished her drink and walked out.  For the life of him, Jay couldn't think of anything else to say to this enigmatic woman.  If it weren't for the fact that she'd, more or less, ruined the night for him he could've been really attracted to her....if she could just get over her attitude problem.  He hadn't seen her since.

Chapter 16 - Another Time

    It was one of those obscure occasions that, more frequently, get lost in the dim recesses of memory.  Sometimes though, a brief encounter has a profound effect on the rest of a person's life.  Such was the case when Jay met the girl at Benson.  He could remember it as if he were looking at it on a VCR.

    After being dismissed from his last period class, he was hurrying across the field on the west end of the campus.  Jay loved the smell of the freshly-baked bread across the street at the Franz Bakery.  It was Spring.  The weather was overcast, but it wasn't raining.  Every once in a while the sun would peep through a break in the clouds, affording welcome warmth on an otherwise chilly day.

    She was standing under one of the English Elms that were beginning to bud out with new leaves.  Either she lived nearby or went to Washington High....maybe both.  Her lips were pursed, and she looked as if she were pouting or on the brink of tears.  She was cute, with light brown neck-length hair, and her present expression looked completely uncharacteristic.  For some reason it troubled Jay to see her in this state, and his ordinary shyness was overcome by empathy.  He knew, all to well, how bad it felt to be alone or depressed, and only had to make a slight variation in the direction he'd been headed to come close enough to speak.

    "Are you okay?" he asked.

    "Fine." was her curt reply.  The breeze gently shifted and blew her hair over her left eye.  She brushed it, impudently, aside and avoided looking into Jay's sympathetic eyes.  Girls still wore skirts or dresses to school in the early sixties, and she looked nice in a pleated skirt.  It looked like she had on a knit sweater, but he couldn't tell for sure.  It was covered by one of those winter coats girls used to wear.

    "I just thought that you might like to talk to someone.  I go to school here."  She looked like she might be a Junior, or a Senior at best.  About the same age as Jay.  Girls his age appealed to him when he was a teenager.

    "No, I don't want to talk to anyone.  Why don't you just go and do whatever you were going to do?"  She stole an impatient look at him that could freeze flames.

    She didn't have to throw something at him to make it any clearer that she didn't want company.  Not his, anyway.  "Yeah.  Well, nice talkin' to ya.  Hope everything works out okay.  See ya."  He continued on across the field, got into his Mother's car and went on to...he couldn't remember what.  Probably home.

    That was all there was to it.  He never could understand why that

pretty little girl with the blue-gray eyes, and bad attitude, had made such a lasting impression on him.  Maybe because the girls that he'd talked to when he was that age were so few.  It was still a mystery to him how he'd ever found the fortitude to approach her.  He'd had dreams about her.  They were nice dreams, but he couldn't remember what they were about....just tenderness and affection.

            ...to be continued.

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