It was a bright, sunny November day. Looking out the window, Coll could see the rich yellow leaves that had just fallen and could clearly imagine the sound they would make if he could only go out and walk in them. For now he could at least enjoy the warm rays of the sun hitting him through the window.
His mind wandered back to something he had thought about many times in the last several months. Looking back he figured his problems had started about the time his wife had begun complaining about his abilities as a lovemaker. She hadn't said anything when they were courting or during the first few years of their marriage, but one day she complained. It had been a period of time during which she had been avoiding sex.
"I guess the reason I'm not that interested anymore," she began, "is that I feel you just want sex to gratify your physical desire and that's all. You just want me to service you--wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. Sex should mean a lot more. Sex should be an intense means of communication between a man and a woman who love each other. In fact it's the most sublime and deep way two people can reach complete union. That's one reason they call marriage sacred."
Coll was a little bewildered by what his wife Hilda was saying. He had honestly never given it much thought, but it sounded all right. Up to then sex had only been something that made you feel good. They had several discussions on how sex was perceived by the two genders. Hilda pointed out that it seemed that many men had the same attitude as he did. She had been reading and hearing about it more.
Coll didn't oppose her suggestion that they go to marriage counseling. He felt open to discuss their differences and was willing to try to understand what Hilda was talking about. They went to a Dr. Amy Freitag who Hilda said was supposed to be good with sexual dysfunction. Coll liked her but had a hard time accepting everything she had to say. Essentially the counselor took Hilda's position. He didn't mind this but wasn't willing to accept it completely.
"Women do seem to have more of a need," the counselor said, "to make the sexual act an expression of love. That's why they seem to want to have the act surrounded by the proper romantic atmosphere and then afterwards to be held closely by their mate rather than have it all end suddenly. Men need to change and be more sensitive. Women need to be reassured that they are wanted and loved."
"Yes, but how much reassurance do they have to have?" Coll wondered. We've been married for years and Hilda knows I love her and always have. I also tell her often that I love her, so why does it have to be such a big production when we go to bed? I can see making a big deal some of the time but sometimes it's late and we both want to go to sleep, so I don't see why we can't get a quick one in and go to sleep. Besides, I've been hearing that there are women who enjoy sex by itself."
They were in counseling for almost a year, and Coll eventually came around to seeing what Freitag and Hilda were talking about. He became a much more gentle and considerate lover, and his wife told him so. Hilda even bragged a little about him to other people which made him feel good. Coll lapsed into his old ways occasionally but mostly the next several years in their relationship were wonderful.
One day after his daughter Wendy had become 11 years old, he felt an unusually strong attraction for her. He suppressed the feeling. He had always been close to his daughters. He was not only a good provider, as anyone who knew the family would attest, but also an attentive father. There was a younger daughter of five. His daughters loved him very much. The feelings of attraction for Wendy came back, but he kept fighting them. Then finally he approached her. It was just caressing of the lower parts and he assured her there was nothing wrong. He loved her very much. It would make her feel good, he told her, and she seemed to enjoy it. Sex was an expression of love between two people, he said.
Things progressed until finally he was doing everything with Wendy. He also told her it would be good for her to know these things for the future when she got married. He was always very tender with her. At the same time he continued to have a sound relationship with his wife. Years passed and he was very happy and satisfied. Wendy never told anyone.
One day, when Wendy was 15, Hilda came back unexpectedly from her evening job. She never came back home early because for one thing her work was very far away, but this time there had been a power failure and she hadn't been able to do her work. Coll and Wendy were having sex in front of the television. Hilda shrieked.
Within a week the police came to the house to arrest Coll. He tried to talk to Hilda to explain, to tell her that it had always been tender and loving and unselfish, and to ask her what was so wrong with that. It was a physical showing of affection just like they had discussed with the psychologist.
Now here he was. Thirty years in prison, even though he had a perfectly clean record before. He had asked Hilda to bring the girls for a visit, but she refused.
The hot, dry August wind was just the way Dave Phillips remembered it in El Seco. It had been at least 10 years since he had been back, but childhood memories were still vivid. As he drove west on the freeway, he could see how the housing subdivisions had spread to the foothills. The city had been one of the fastest growing in the country. He had enjoyed his childhood here, and his parents had chosen to remain even though he had pleaded with them to move where they could be closer to him. They had in turn begged him to come back to El Seco, but it had been out of the question. He had established an excellent reputation as a neurosurgeon in New York, associated with Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. He worked longer hours than he liked but otherwise it was very satisfying to be at the top of his profession. Coming back to El Seco, even as the top surgeon in the city, would simply be out of the question. No matter how much he might enjoy coming back to live closer to his parents and in a place where he had developed early roots with people still around whom he remembered as childhood friends, he knew he wouldn't be happy. There wasn't a laboratory where he could become involved in research, something he thought he might like to do someday.
He wondered how El Seco was for a single man. There was certainly an abundance of women in New York City, but supposedly that wasn't the case here. An old friend had complained about that, but more importantly he said, many women didn't seem very impressed with a professional man. He was a sharp, good-looking accountant working in an established firm.
In spite of all, he still enjoyed coming back to see old friends and he was especially excited about this afternoon. He was driving to Michelino's, an old winery hidden in the hills on the west side of the city, near the Mexican border. The organizers of their 20th year high school reunion thought it would be a good spot to meet. It was supposed to be informal so Dave was wearing a pair of white shorts and a short-sleeved maroon polo shirt. He was looking forward to seeing many of the people from his Coronado High School class of 1970. He had known some of them since grammar school. There had been about 600 graduates, and he probably knew about 400 of them even if only distantly. He had taken out his old yearbooks last night to help him refresh his memory on names and faces.
In school, he had never been one of the popular people nor one of the members of the "in" social groups that came into existence, but he had distinguished himself by making good grades and coming out often on Dean's List. He hadn't been conscious of it at the time, but he had yearned to be popular and held in special esteem. He had thought about it in more recent years and realized how much of a force a feeling of inadequacy had been toward his drive to excel. He remembered how he had daydreamed of going on to be some great success and have everyone he had known in school talk of how great he was. They would tell their friends and remind their relatives that they had known him; it would make them speak proudly of having gone to school with him; the newspapers would refer to him every so often as a great El Secoan who had made a name for himself. At first he had dreamed of being a great baseball player who would be seen on television all the time. That fantasy faded as he found that he could rise to being no more than an average player on the high school baseball team. He found that he could shine in academics and so shifted his goal to becoming a doctor or engineer. His supporting dream of success stayed with him through high school, through college, and even to some extent, after he had already become a doctor.
Dave wondered about two people he remembered in particular. One was Margaret Hawkins who had turned him down when he had asked her to go to the Junior Prom. It had been an upsetting disappointment. It was true that he hadn't known her especially well, but he had been confident that she would accept. She didn't have a boyfriend; it was said she didn't even date very much. He had walked up to her in the hall right after English class and very calmly asked her if she would be his date. She said "no" politely, but curtly. It was immediately clear that she could not be moved to reconsider her firm decision, and she gave no explanation.
She showed up with someone else and he found another date, too. Her date had not been anyone special. Dave didn't think she knew him much better--spent the whole evening trying to figure out why the other guy and not him. His date was a girl he had known for many years from close by in his neighborhood. He had brooded on Margaret's rejection not only that evening but for a long time to come. Dave wondered now whether she had any regrets about that rejection. Lately he had caught himself fantasizing a little on what might happen if she were single like he. He had heard that she was still an extremely beautiful woman and so inevitably not one who would be in any way needy of men who would be interested in her. In fact, she had been so attractive that she had moved to Hollywood soon after graduation to seek a career as an actress.
As he drove up the hill and came within sight of the winery, he could feel nervousness. He had hardly seen any of the people in the intervening 20 years. He could hear music coming from the large, old stone building. Dave said "hi" near the entrance to a guy named Jay who was standing there as if waiting for someone. He was trying to remember his last name but couldn't. He hadn't known Jay very well.
The music was coming from an old jukebox, old songs from the time like "Tracy," by the Cufflinks, and there were already a hundred people. A band was setting up, Lonnie Leroux and the Lancers, made up mainly of graduates from the previous class of 1969. The first person Dave ran into was Fred Farrell. They hadn't seen each other since graduation, and Fred was jubilant. He introduced Dave to his wife who had gone to a high school on the east side of town. Fred was overweight but he had always been stocky. He had played tackle on the junior high football team. Dave had also been on the team but never went on to play in high school. He had always been very thin. They immediately went into exchanging the usual information on what each had been doing since the last time they had seen each other. Fred said he had been in insurance for many years and was impressed with Dave's accomplishments.
As Dave later talked to Mike Gonzalez who had been in American History and other classes with him, he kept looking out of the corner of his eye at different people and noticed Mike was being distracted in the same way. "God, there's a lot of people here I can't remember," Mike said chagrined. "Who's that over there? Is that Jenny Saunders?" Dave wasn't sure who it was, either. They both agreed that it was hard to recognize many of the others.
Dave then spotted Janet Stevens. She looked surprisingly attractive and youthful, about ten years younger. It was not that Janet had been ugly, she had just never looked this good before. It was not her looks, however, that made him eager to talk to her as much as memories that came back to him across the years. He remembered how she always beat him in grades in school. She sat in front of him in both fifth and sixth grades, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get better grades than her. In the early grades he hadn't really cared that much about grades, but he sometimes got it in his mind to beat Janet in a test and it was mainly because she seemed so arrogant. She was often bossy and most of the other kids would pick up on this and taunt her for it. Dave would try to get back at her by doing better in a test because she seemed to take so much pride in being at the top off the class. Sometimes he would get a better grade than her but that was rare. He wondered what her reaction would be when she found out what he was doing now.
As soon as he had the chance in the conversation, he found an excuse to walk to where Janet was talking with some of her former girlfriends. When he had the chance, he tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi, Janet."
"Dave, Dave Phillips," she exclaimed sounding almost ecstatic. "You look great. My God. I haven't seen you in so long. I think it was right after graduation."
"That sounds about right. You're looking great yourself, like about 10 years younger."
"Oh, come on now. Don't exaggerate. Do you remember Donna Rains and . . "
He remembered some of the other women vaguely and got reacquainted with them. After 10 minutes of mixed conversation, he had the chance to talk to Janet individually. "So are you in town or living somewhere else?" she asked him.
"I've been out of El Seco since graduation."
"You must have gone away to college?"
"Yes, I did."
"Where did you go?"
"Princeton."
"So what are you doing now?"
"I'm in New York. I'm in neurosurgery."
"Oh, isn't that something. We're both in the medical field. I've been a nurse for 15 years now. I've enjoyed it immensely most of the time, but I'm starting to get a little tired. I may take a few years and stay at home. My husband said it was fine with him. We could manage fine on just his income. What area did you say you were in?" She seemed a little distracted with the noise around.
"Neurosurgery."
"What exactly do you do?"
"I'm a doctor."
"Oh, a doctor. You're one of those. You all think you know so much, but I'll tell you I've trained many a young doctor in my day. Doctors just don't seem to appreciate how important we nurses are."
"I'm afraid you're probably right."
"Aside from all that money you guys get, I sure wouldn't want to be a doctor. Too much pressure, and you don't get the chance to really be personable with the patients. We nurses can do so much more good in that respect. Oh, Emily, Walt, it's great to see you," she turned to meet a couple that had gotten married after being high school sweethearts. A conversation got started with them and Dave sidled away before very long. He had not known the couple very well. He realized how she still felt superior even if she was below him in status.
He walked to the place where the kegs were located and after pouring himself a long-neck noticed Margaret Hawkins. He paused to get a good look at her as she stood talking to two men, who seemed entranced with her. That wasn't surprising. She looked as good as ever as she talked with her arms half-crossed, her left hand held at the side of her face, very composed. He wanted to talk to her but noticed how nervous he felt. He was determined to talk to her so he started walking across the room to where she was. How would she react to him? What were her thoughts now on what had happened back then? He hoped for a chance to talk to her privately, intimately.
"Hey, Dave, how you doing?" a friendly man engaged him in conversation. "Good to see you." The face was definitely familiar, but he couldn't get the name to come back to him. He kept trying to sneak a peek at the man's nametag but couldn't get a good look and didn't want him to notice his straining to see the name. After a couple of minutes, he remembered it was Leo Aceves. They talked for 15 minutes but it started to make Dave uneasy. He worried that Margaret might leave early. He wanted to talk much more to Leo. They had become good friends in chemistry class, but he hoped they could continue the conversation at a later time. Luckily someone else came up and Dave was soon able to excuse himself. Margaret was now surprisingly standing alone.
"Hi, Margaret. How've you been all these years? Remember me?"
"Uh," she hesitated a little. "I think so."
"I heard you had moved out to the West Coast."
"Yes, I've been there all this time. It's great. I love it."
"What are you doing now?"
"I'm afraid I have to confess, vain me. All these years I've been trying to be a star but haven't done much. I have managed to get some bit parts in some television shows recently."
"That's great. Most people don't even get that far no matter how hard they try."
"Yes, I've been thinking lately I ought to be pretty proud of myself, and on top of that, I've raised two nice kids." She stared ahead wistfully as if realizing that a woman approaching 40 couldn't go much further.
"Well, if you haven't made it big yet, it's not because of lack of good looks. It's a rough world out there in Hollywood. I think that's pretty well known by now."
"I hope so. I hope everybody doesn't think I haven't been working at it or that I have no talent because if there is anything I've found out for sure, it's that I am a good actress."
"I remember your being in Senior Play, and everybody thinking you had done real well. What was the play? The Crucible, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
"I also remember you were just about the prettiest girl in school. All the guys always used to talk about you, including me. Do you remember me asking you to go to the Junior Prom?" David was surprised to find himself getting into the subject he had thought about for so many years. He didn't feel as nervous as he had at first.
"Uh, well, I, huh, think so." She now had a very confused look.
"I remember calling you on either a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Of course, you seemed surprised since you didn't know me very well. I think we only knew each other because of Government class."
"Is that right?"
"I don't know why I thought you might possibly be interested in going with me to the prom. There were so many other guys you knew. What did you think when I called you? You sounded surprised."
"Well, I guess I . . ."
"I know, you probably already had a date."
"To tell you the truth, I've got a terrible memory and I . . ." At that moment an old girlfriend of Margaret's came up and touched her. They both yelled in surprise and hugged. They apparently hadn't seen each other for many years. They went on to a long conversation. Dave was not included and eventually faded away.
As he walked away, he felt disappointment. He felt the conversation had been going in the right direction. She seemed attentive and very sincere, but it was disappointing that they had not been able to go any further. He soon ran into a guy he had known since junior high and they started reminiscing.
As they were talking, Dave noticed Ricky Inman standing across the room. If there was anyone he was more curious about than even Margaret Hawkins, it was Ricky Inman. He hadn't changed that much except for a decided expansion of the breadbasket. Actually Dave could see, from the beer Ricky was holding in his hand, that it would more properly be called a "beerbasket." His face was still very recognizable.
He had first known Ricky Inman in the fifth grade and suffered perhaps the most traumatic experience in his life because of him. It had left a deep-felt impression that still remained in his consciousness. He hardly knew Ricky at the time. He was in another class and didn't live in his neighborhood. One day while in the schoolyard during lunch, Ricky came up and said some boys told him that Dave was the one who had taken the air out of his bicycle tires. Dave immediately protested that he hadn't done such a thing, but Ricky wouldn't listen and instead threw him on the ground and started slugging him hard. He was mad. He was also 20 pounds heavier than Dave. He yelled, trying to tell Ricky that he didn't even know what his bike looked like but Ricky went on to push Dave's face into the ground as he lay on top of him. The ground had been covered with gravel that now cut sharply into his face. The bell rang and Ricky finally got off.
In the classroom, Dave sat numbly. He could hear the teacher talking in what seemed a faint distance but he wasn't listening. His face was burning from the gravel cuts, and his body was aching. Worst of all was the mixture of humiliation and anger that seemed to override all his senses at the moment. It was an experience that he had never forgotten. For several weeks, his mind kept returning obsessively to the incident, replaying every painful detail. He thought about revenge and started studying how to become a better fighter, but the chance never came for a rematch. Years later in high school, Ricky was still a tough guy, running around with a hard crowd, but Dave had been able to overcome most of the bitterness. He eventually realized that it was this incident that probably started the fantasy of becoming a great success. He wondered how Ricky was doing now. Ricky had never distinguished himself in school in any way. He hadn't heard anything about him after graduation. Dave thought about he would go over to talk to Ricky. He wondered whether to bring up the time Ricky had beat him up in fifth grade.
Dave went to get another beer as he thought about the approach he would take. After talking to Jeff Solaroff briefly, he walked over to Ricky.
"Hi, Ricky. How you been? Remember me?" Ricky looked at him quizzically but was friendly. Dave noticed that his nametag said, "Richard Inman."
"Uh . . ."
"Dave Phillips."
"Oh, O.K."
"We met in fifth grade. We weren't in the same class, but I remember knowing you."
"Fifth grade? I don't know I remember anything that far back," he said with a chuckle.
"We used to play in the playground sometimes. Then in high school you used to hang around with Jimmy Perez who lived a couple of blocks from me."
"Oh, yea, good ole Jimmy. I see him every once in a while. He still hasn't changed much."
"Remember Jimmy used to give me a ride to school sometimes?"
Ricky wrinkled his brow, "I'm really sorry, but I just can't place you, and, hey, you're not the only one. There's already been a couple of other people who said they knew me but I couldn't remember them. Lucky I didn't have to admit it to them." He laughed. Dave was impressed with how gentle and sincere he seemed. "So what kind of work are you in?" he asked Dave.
"I'm a doctor."
"Sounds great. I've been doing pretty good as a truck driver. The only bad thing is I have to be on the road away from home so much, but my wife is very understanding. Do you know Terry?" he asked as he turned to her sitting down next to him. She smiled as she and Dave exchanged greetings. They had never met, but Dave was surprised that it was Terry Owens, one of the most beautiful girls in the class behind them. He had admired her in high school. He now remembered hearing that they had gotten married soon after high school. "The money's unbelievably good," he continued. "I made $60,000 last year, and I like getting out there on the road. Wouldn't trade anything in the world for it. No offense, but I wouldn't want to be a doctor. Too much hassle, and you have to be cooped up inside all the time. I've got to be out. Yeah, we've done real well." They talked a little longer then someone Richard knew came up to greet him, and Dave quietly walked away.
He felt frustrated and confused. He hadn't gotten the feeling that Richard was trying to put him down in any way. He seemed completely sincere and straightforward. He liked Richard now. It had been like getting acquainted with a complete stranger.
As Dave gathered a few finger sandwiches and salad items on his plate, a friendly woman started talking to him. She seemed very jovial. He didn't remember her at all. After they filled their plates, they stepped aside and kept talking.
"My name's Cindy, Cindy Waltermire." Dave strained to remember her but couldn't. He told her his name, and before he could say much else, she said, "If you can't remember me, don't worry. Hardly anybody else does and I don't remember you. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I never knew you. You see I moved to the Coronado area in the middle of senior year and hardly got to know anybody. I knew there wouldn't be much use in coming, but I decided to anyway. I figured there was really nothing to lose."
"Hey, I think it was a great idea. Even if you don't know that many people, you still have a lot in common with us." Dave actually felt relieved that they didn't know each other.
"I've met some great people and had a lot of fun. How long did you live in the area?"
"Oh, I've known some of the people here since third grade."
"Oh, my. Listen, don't let me hold you up. You must have a lot of people you have to talk to. You better go on and stop wasting your time with me."
"Hey, don't worry. You're fun to talk to. Besides I'm bored trying to talk to my old friends." Dave and Cindy talked for a very long time and got to know each other.
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