Chapter 3
FRIENDSHIP
"Okay, Mom, what is it?"
John turned her around, a hand on her shoulder, to look into her face. "Something’s going on. You’ve been spaced for twenty four hours, ever since I got home. What is it?"
"John, how would you feel if we had a housemate?"
"Mom, for Pete’s sake, is this some nutty way of telling me you’ve got a new boyfriend? Since when are you so coy? When I was a kid, and you might have had a reason to keep it from me, you sure never bothered. What goes?"
"No, no, John, not a "boyfriend"---God, what an awful word! Just a housemate. We’ve got a new guy at the shop; I happen to know he’s a great cook, and we could sure use the extra cash. I was moderately astonished by the size of your last book bill. What the hell are they teaching you there, anyway? Six hundred and fifty dollars for books?"
"The anatomy texts alone came to three hundred something. Color plates."
"Well, I’m not complaining; what it costs is what it costs. But rent money for the spare room might pay next semester’s book bill. I hope."
"Actually, Ma, I think it’s a hell of an idea. You wouldn’t be alone here."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Afraid for my safety, are you?"
"No, Ma, I’m not afraid for your safety. Ha ha. But it might be nice for you to have someone to eat with and---. Woops, I almost said ’sleep with.’"
"Watch your mouth, smartass. And don’t call me Ma."
"Yes, Mom. Anyway, I think it’s a good idea. Invite him. Hey Ma, is he after your body?"
She turned away with a disgusted look. As she headed for the door, she said over her shoulder. "I’ve got to go to work. Try to remember in odd moments that I’m your mother, and deserving of a little respect."
"Yes, Ma."
*******
She eased the car slowly around the corner; they both leaned forward, looking intently into the dim street ahead.
"Damn! I thought they might show up here," she said, her shoulders slumping in disappointment.
"It was a good bet, it just didn’t work out this time." Johner reached out to give her hair a consoling touch, but he thought better of it before his hand connected. He laid it on the back of the seat, sure she hadn’t noticed his aborted caress.
Be careful, you donkey! he admonished himself. She’ll run like a deer if she thinks you have any intentions. You’re living in her house and seeing her every day---don’t blow it now. For Crissakes cool it. He turned his head toward her, relatively safe in watching her since her eyes were on the road. Watching her was his recreation and his consolation.
She pulled up at a stop light. "Shall we knock off for the night? I can’t think of any other brilliant plans. How about you?" She glanced at him and grinned. "I have a suspicion we’ve been outsmarted."
"Never. We’re smarter than three two bit hoods. We’re smarter than a dozen two bit hoods. They just got lucky."
"Johner, don’t you ever get discouraged? Don’t you have bad days?"
He looked down at his hands. "I have bad days."
"They don’t show."
"Good."
She put her hand over his. "Are you going to tell me about it sometime?"
"About what?"
"What you have bad dreams about---I’ve heard you in the night. What makes you have bad days."
"The light’s changed." He took his hand away.
"OK, Johner, but you can’t get away from me. We live together, remember?"
"I remember." His voice was cold.
"Boy, you can really make me mad sometimes." She shifted her grip on the wheel, stretching out her arms and taking a deep breath.
"Connor, I don’t mean to make you mad, but you push me. I don’t take to being pushed."
"I’m trying to be a friend. I guess I’m not going about it right. It was a lot simpler when you sewed up my shoulder and I said thanks and we were square."
"No, it wasn’t any simpler then. We just didn’t know enough about each other to see it. It’s never simple."
"Yes---that’s right---I guess that’s right. Johner, I still don’t know anything about you. You’re full of contradictions. Last week when you were questioning that guy in the bar, you were as brutal as anyone I’ve ever seen. And then you say things like you just did, and I wonder if you can be the same man. Which one are you, Johner?"
"I’m whatever my life up to now has made me, just like everyone else."
"There! That’s just what I’m talking about! The man who brutalized that poor soul in the bar last week couldn’t possibly have said that."
"Poor soul? That son-of-a-bitch is a vicious little rat who deserved twice what he got, and you know that as well as I do! Poor soul! Jesus!" He shook his head in disgust.
"But I felt sorry for him anyway. You went about it with such a will. I swear you enjoyed it." She paused. "Did you, Johner?"
"Are you asking me if I’m a sadist?"
"Maybe."
He didn’t answer right away. "Maybe I am. I did enjoy it. I do. It’s a trip; I suppose it’s revenge, really. Revenge on everybody who ever stepped on me. That ‘poor soul’ paid for someone else’s sins that time, but he has plenty of his own on his conscience. I’ll tell you something funny, though. I don’t enjoy it as much as I used to. I think I must have whatever it is that makes me want to do it just about all worked out of me." He grinned at her. "I’m starting to mellow out in my old age."
"I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this ‘old age’ thing of yours, too. What the hell is that? How old are you, anyway?"
"I don’t know."
She looked at him. "How does that happen?"
"I grew up on the street. I guess I’m somewhere around fifty, but I don’t know within five years." He was embarrassed by his confession; she could see it in the lines of his body as he sat looking down at his hands.
She turned the car up the driveway and pulled into the garage. They got out and he came around the car quickly to go into the house, not looking at her. She put her hand on his arm to stop him, and then to his astonishment she put her arms around him. He pulled her closer to him without conscious thought, his face buried in her hair.
"Johner, I care about you. It’s important to me to know about you. I want to know."
He let her go at once, though every fiber of him was screaming to hold on to her; she mustn’t know how he felt. She went before him into the house, turning on lights in the kitchen, checking the answering machine, doing all the ordinary things that he was incapable of thinking of at the moment. What he thought of was how she felt against him, of her breasts and her belly pressed to him, of the scent of her hair, of the softness of her.
With a mumbled goodnight, he headed for his bedroom, where he could be alone to remember exactly those few moments, those moments that might be all he ever had of her.
And Sarah slowly got ready for bed, stopping often to remember how his hard body felt against her, how he had pulled her close to him. But---he had let her go at once. He was her friend; that’s all he wanted to be. That was best, she knew---he was such a complex and difficult man. And she was past wanting the pain and stress involved in any new relationship.
Best not to want him any closer. Best to let friendship be enough.