“Oh come on… you’re making
that up…no guy is really named Rhett!”
Without saying a word, he took his driver’s license out of his wallet
and handed it to the very cute
redhead dressed in a Cat Woman’s
outfit he’d just started talking to at his friend’s Halloween party.
Smiling at his photo, name and physical
description, while grinning and shaking her head from side to
side, she bowed slightly while beating
her chest and commented, “mea culpa, mea culpa,” as she handed
it back to him. She commented he
looked different with a pitchfork and horns at the party
“Ok, Rhett Doyle, what brings you here tonight? On the prowl, or just
wanting to ‘Party ‘til you
puke?’”
“Well, Cathy…whose last name I’ve never been given,” he said with one
arched eyebrow, “I’m just
out and about trying to burn off my
millennial angst. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do on weekends?”
“It’s Mellotti, and I suppose
that’s the plan for a lot of the folks here. Me, I’m just here to people
watch and be wingman for a friend
out there dancing who has a hard time sitting still when music’s
playing.”
“Mellotti, huh? Well, that explains
the ‘mea culpa.’ Italian last name, probably Catholic…not many
folks know Latin these days. Am I
right about that?” She shrugged her shoulders while sipping a Sprite.
“Half right. My dad’s Italian, my mom’s German – it made for some
interesting holiday food choices.”
“No doubt.” He took a swig from his
beer and thought about what he wanted to say next. She watched
his uncertainty and uneasiness and
smiled to herself.
“So, Cathy, you don’t dance, or are you just not one to mingle with the masses?
Inquiring minds
wanna’ know.” The smiles were
simultaneous this time.
“Hey, what do you mean,” she feigned punching him on the arm, “I’m
mingling now, aren’t I?”
“Okay, I suppose so, but I was surprised you were just sitting here all
by yourself when I came
over. You’re an attractive woman
and usually guys will …well, I’m sure you know what I mean….”
“Oh, you mean, hit on me? Kind
of like you just did?” She laughed and reassured him by grabbing
his arm. He could feel his ears
getting exceedingly hot the longer she looked his way. He had to turn his
head. Priest or not, he was first
and foremost a male and she was extremely easy on the eyes.
“It’s all right, Rhett, really. You’re the first guy I felt like talking
to tonight. Actually, you’re the
first guy I’ve felt like talking to
in a pretty long time. My friends keep telling me I have this knack for
sending out ‘Fuck-off’ vibes in
social situations.” He stiffened a bit at her statement. “Oh my God,
you’re blushing! Haven’t you ever
heard a female say that before?”
He was and he hadn’t. It was at that moment he should have told her he
was a priest; he chose not to.
“Well, let’s just say my experience has been a bit limited in that area,
but I get it, I do. Sometimes
you just want to be left alone and
cool out a bit.”
“Wow,” she joked with him, “what century are you from – that’s a golden
oldie.”
“Yeah, I know, I grew up surrounded by a bunch of old hippies. We kids
used to call them ‘hippos’
because they never left the 60s and
70s. Guess it rubbed off on me more than I realize.”
“I’m betting there are several
other worse ways to grow up than yours. At least there was probably
some really good weed in those
parts, huh?”
“Actually, no. My folks and their
friends lived in a small commune in eastern Colorado. They settled
there because they couldn’t afford
the land prices anywhere near Boulder or Estes Park. They worked
any odd job they could find to help keep things going. That didn’t leave much time for anything 'recreational' especially drugs. They weren’t very good at farming, so things went belly up near the the year mark. It was sad, really, since they were all good friends and very sweet, moral folks who just wanted
to live quiet, peaceful lives.”
“So how did you wind up in Chicago?
It’s a long way from Colorado and an even longer way from
any mountains.”
“If you really want to hear all this, I’ll tell you – on one condition.”
She looked at him a bit suspiciously. “And that condition would be ….?”
“You have to tell me your story, too.” She smiled as she nodded and
simply said, “Deal.”
“Both my folks had relatives here in Chicago. In college my dad had
driven a bus, shuttling
students around campus. When we
arrived here, he went down to the Merchandise Mart and applied
at the CTA. He had previous
experience putting up with passengers and driving similar vehicles, so he
was an easy hire. My mom had a
friend at CPD who got her a job as a crossing guard. Not too long
after that, with all the sudden economic
stability, for the first time in a long time, they got religion. Go
figure. Before I knew it, I was
sent to an all-boys Catholic school and my idyllic early years were in
the rear-view mirror.”
Grabbing his arm, she told him, giggling, “Poor baby, I’m so sorry. I
feel your pain.”
Her comment surprised him and it must have shown on his face. Cathy
tried to shift gears by
saying, “I mean, sure, you were
probably socially retarded, but I’m guessing your S.A.T. scores were
through the roof.” That cracked him
up and he nearly spewed the slug of Heineken he had just
swallowed.
“Actually, it wasn’t all that
terrible – we had ‘visitation’ right with the all-girl Catholic high school
and nature has a way of being …. well,
nature.” That remark brightened her smile and they clinked
their drinks together in a mock
toast.
“Okay, how about you. Where are your skeletons hanging?” She smiled and
took a deep breath.
“I grew up in the suburbs, southwest of the city, closer to Joliet than
Chicago. Mom, dad, a dog and
two younger brothers. Family life
was more like Malcolm in the Middle than Leave it to Beaver.
“Sounds perfectly normal to me.”
“But wait, there’s more!” Rhett laughed at her allusion to an old local television
commercial.
“I did ok for grades, hung out with all the right cliques in school –
became the newspaper editor
and cheerleader; dated my share of
asshole jocks … actually, too many asshole jocks. They seemed
to like redheads a lot and I seemed
to like their attention – also, a lot.”
She stopped, took a deeper breath than normal, and then continued.
“It was the extended family members who were a
problem, my hormone-crazy cousins. They were
a big problem. Guy cousins,
who, even after we were in high school, wanted to keep playing doctor
with
me. These guys were pretty much
thugs. At only 5’1”, there wasn’t much I could do to stop them.
Eventually, my semi-pro football player
uncle, their father, found out and stopped them. Unfortunately,
he wanted to become Mister Humbert to
my Lolita. He figured I ‘owed’ him. I knew if I told my dad,
he’d wind up in prison for killing
my uncle. So, I kept quiet and prayed for senior year to end – quickly.”
She stopped talking for a few seconds. Taking a quietly spasmic breath, she
sighed so deeply it seemed to shake her entire body before resuming her story.
“A week after graduation, I was looking for a job in Carbondale, Illinois, waiting that fall at S.I.U. I never came back home once during the four years I was down there. During my freshman year, I made a life-changing decision. I was done with men, completely and forever.”
Rhett swallowed hard at her last statement. He understood the decision
she had made, but it left
him feeling sad. He chalked up that
sentiment both to his Irish upbringing and his Catholic sensibilities.
After recognizing the root of his
emotional response, he mindfully buried it without a second thought as
she continued.
“It took me a while to explore the idea of dating women – it was a
completely new territory. Sure,
there were some poor choices at first,
but that happens to anybody in that sort of situation. Overall,
though, I found that, at least for
me, women were gentler in the way they spoke, the way they touched
and the way they looked at life in general.
I was no longer an object, I was a person – and that’s what
made life livable again for me.
They also seemed to be a whole lot more honest”
Throughout her monologue, Rhett’s eyes grew bigger with each revelation while
his mouth kept
opening wider in disbelief. Given his
original assumption about this attractive, petite, bright young
woman, he found himself wholly
surprised by all of it. In his head, the phrase that kept coming to him
was, How typically male of me! When
she finished speaking, there was a pronounced silence – as if no
one else was in the apartment – no
voices, no music, no noise – just basic, muted shock. He studied the
pain and sadness still locked in
her face – especially behind her eyes. It was the pain of lost time, lost
possibilities and, more than
anything else, lost innocence. He noticed how her narrative seemed to have
diminished her body as well. She
was looking at the floor when he walked over to her, gently touching
the left side of her face.
“Cathy …. I’m …. I’m so sorry you had to go through any of that … nobody
should ever have to ….”
She shed the tiniest of tears.
“I don’t know why I told you any of
that … I don’t have a clue. I’ve never confessed that to anyone
before …. my friends, roommates ….
certainly not my family …. you’re just so comfortable – so easy
to talk to.” She took another deep
breath. “I’m sorry …I’m becoming a blubberer and I hate people
who blubber…”
Trying to lighten things up a bit, he quipped, “Blubberer? There’s one I
haven’t heard in a while.”
They gave each other a weak smile and he found himself holding her hand
trying to reassure her.
“Wow, and I thought my commune story was a load to handle, but sheesh,
Cathy, truly, I’m in awe
of your resilience and strength.
Whether you realize it or not, you’re a force of nature, kiddo. I probably
should have told you this upfront,
but you should know I’m ….”
With a break in the music people started drifting around the apartment
in search of friends and
drinks. Looking through the crowd, Rhett
recognized a girl with waist-length brunette hair whom he
had met about six months earlier in
a professional setting. She was dressed as an Indian squaw, complete
with a feathered headband, and was heading
straight towards Cathy and him. Bad timing was the first
thought that popped into his mind.
The girl, whose name he could not remember at all, had met him at the planned
parenthood clinic
where he weekly volunteered. She
was totally indecisive regarding what to do. She was fairly certain
she was at least a month into a
pregnancy, and admitted there were a few paternal possibilities, none
with whom she was interested in raising
a child.
By doctrine, Rhett knew the way he was
supposed to steer her decision. By instinct, he felt that this
person, who already had made some
questionable life choices, would most likely make a few more as
a mother. He decided to put
doctrine on the back burner and allow her to make her own decision. After
their third counseling session, she
never returned.
Working her way through the other costumed guests, the girl came closer.
Seeing her, Cathy smiled
broadly and greeted her friend with
a longish hug.
“Ah, the ‘dancing queen’ has returned! Janis, I want to introduce you to
a new friend, Rhett Doyle.
Rhett, will you please meet my significant
other of three months, Janis.”
Well, he thought, this should be interesting.
Bio:
N.T. Chambers, former teacher and therapist, writes about the emotions, events, and experiences intrinsic to the huma condition. The author has had over 60 poems, short stories, and essays published in more than 50 different venues.
