Chapter 8
TROUBLE
"Mom! What happened?"
"Is he gone yet?"
"He’s sitting at the kitchen table, staring at his hands. I couldn’t get three words out of him. For Pete’s sake, what happened?"
"Nothing that concerns anyone else. I want him out of here. He knows that, what’s keeping him here?"
"The one thing he did say was, ‘Ask her to talk to me.’ Will you?"
"No."
"Mom, please. This is important stuff; you can’t just refuse to talk about it. Just tell me, what happened?"
"John, leave me alone! Just get out of here and leave me the hell alone!"
"Did he hit you? Answer this one thing."
"No he didn’t hit me. Now will you get out!"
******
Johner was still sitting at the table, staring at his hands. He looked up as John walked in.
"She won’t talk to you." Johner’s head went down again. "Or to me either. You’ll have to tell me what happened. She’s pretty mad."
Johner didn’t seem to hear. He pushed his chair back from the table. "I guess that’s it then." He raised himself up stiffly, without his usual smooth movement, and walked to the door. When he turned, there was no expression on his face at all. "Tell her---I’m sorry." he said, and the door shut behind him. John stared at it for a moment, then crossed the room and followed him out. By the time he stepped out of the garage to look, Johner was across the street, walking rapidly away.
*******
Supper time came and went; when the ten o’clock news was over, John fixed himself a sandwich, and another for his mother.
He knocked on her door, then opened it immediately. No point in waiting for her to tell him to stay out, he thought. But she didn’t say anything, just turned her head to look at him. He put the sandwich on the table beside her bed, and stood looking down at her.
"Thanks, John. That was good of you." She sat up, but made no move toward the food.
"Are you ready to talk now, Mom?"
She smiled at him. "You’re being very kind, my dear. But I don’t really have anything to say. It’s over, that’s all. Nothing lasts; I should have remembered that, shouldn’t I?"
Please, Mom, I’m part of this family too, and this is important to me. Can’t you tell me what happened?"
"I guess you are involved, aren’t you? It certainly affects your home life." She laughed a little. "It’ll be a lot quieter now."
"I can’t believe this happened. You love this man. You’re angry now, but you love him. I haven’t seen you like this with a man in my life. There have been a lot of men, but they weren’t like Johner. What the hell happened? Come on, tell me about it, Mom."
"All right. It’s not much to
tell. At work today I was having a good time with Lou Peabody.
We were laughing and kidding; actually, he was kidding me about Johner.
This was just before we left for home. I met Johner at the door;
by the time we got to the parking lot I knew there was something wrong.
He wasn’t talking at all. So I poked him a little, just a friendly
poke, to wake him up." She paused, and looked away from John.
"He turned on me like a crazy man. He grabbed me by my arms and slammed
me up against the car, and started to yell at me about---I don’t know exactly,
something about the way I was acting, trying to get men to look at me?
or me looking at them? I don’t know---it was so crazy I didn’t even get
angry for a couple of minutes. But he didn’t stop, he was so mad
he wasn’t making any sense, and he was hurting my arms. So I broke
his hold. He raised his fist, and I thought 
he
was going to hit me, so I took defensive action. It was quite a little
brawl." She laughed shortly. "He’s very good. If it hadn’t
stopped when it did, I’d have gotten hurt."
"What stopped it?"
"I don’t know. He just stopped. He just turned and walked away. I got in the car and drove home. I stopped for a few minutes on the way, I didn’t think I was driving very well and I had the shakes a bit, so I thought I should cool off. When I got here, he was sitting in the kitchen. We didn’t talk. I said that I wanted him out, and I went to my room. That’s all."
"I know what stopped it. He could see that he was going to hurt you. He adores you, Mom. He wouldn’t hurt you if it was to save his own life."
"Oh, John, he could break my arms and it wouldn’t hurt as much as what he did today. He destroyed what we had together---it’s gone---it’s gone!" The last words were a bereft lament; her eyes filled, she looked at him blindly, and the tears came.
She cried until John was afraid for her. He put his arms around her and spoke words of comfort, but he doubted that she even heard him. She bent over in a storm of grief, holding her stomach and rocking her body as each sob convulsed her.
After a long time she quieted, and he laid her down on the bed and covered her. She pulled the quilt up around her throat, and sighed, and was instantly asleep. He put out the light and softly closed her door behind him.
He went through the house without stopping, out the back door, and into the car. With no clear idea of how he was going to do it, he knew only that he had to find Johner.
*******
But he didn’t find him. And the days that followed were equally luckless. Johner didn’t come back to work. George Roberts received a phone call on the first day; Johner said only that he and Connor had had a disagreement; and that, with apologies, he thought it was best if he didn’t show himself at work again.
When John inquired about what factual material the company had on Johner, George shrugged and said that his address and phone number were Connor’s. There was nothing else. The federal government was very secretive about vital statistics since the big computer data scandals; he found no help there. The police politely informed him that they didn’t look for full grown able-bodied men who had walked away carrying nothing that didn’t belong to them. Johner disappeared into the millions who lived and worked in Westcoast, and there was no way to find him.
Sarah went on. She went to work every day, she fixed food, even if she ate little of it, and she went to bed every night, although John wondered how much she slept when he looked at her face in the morning. But those things that supported her life and her work were all she did. Those things, and she watched television. On the nights that she was home she sat down in front of the set as soon as there was nothing else claiming her attention; and until bedtime she watched, seldom looking up, and as seldom smiling at what was intended to entertain her.
Johner’s room remained as it had been. He never came back for his things, never sent word about where to send them. The door was shut, and the room was apparently shut out of her mind also.
John became more concerned for her as the days went by, and his summer break drew down to its end. He left his summer job a few days early, planning to use the time in the search for Johner, although his hopes were not great. He had not told his mother of his long effort; she had said not one word about Johner since the night of the disaster, almost three months before, and John hesitated to bring it up. But now he was leaving soon and he was greatly concerned about what would happen to her when he was no longer here. It was time to talk about it.
"Mom, I want to talk about Johner."
They were sitting at the dinner table, the remains of two TV dinners before them. Sarah smiled. "Did the TV dinners make you think of him?"
John was very much surprised at the casual tone of her voice. He had expected a battle, but her face showed only mild interest. "No, not exactly. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him."
"Talk away. I’m listening."
"I’ve been looking for him. Ever since he went away. I want him to come back, Ma. I want you to take him back. You’re dying without him."
"You exaggerate, John. I’m not dying, I’m not even sick. I’m living without him, is what I’m doing."
"Barely. You’re just barely alive. Mom, I can’t find him. I’ve done everything I can think of and then some. I don’t know what to do next, and I can’t stand the thought of leaving you here alone."
"I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it with some success since before you were born. Go back to school and quit worrying."
John knew suddenly what to say next. "Will you do something for me? Think about Johner. Just sit there in your chair, and let yourself think about him. He wants you, Mom. He’s dying without you. I know he is. God, I hope he’s still alive. When he left here that day he looked ready to die. Have you thought about how he’s doing? He has all the grief you have, and he has all the guilt too. He knows every day and every night that he did it, that he’d still be here with you except for himself, it’s all his own fault. God, he’s suffering. And he’s worrying about you, wondering if you’re OK, feeling the guilt twice as much because he knows you’re suffering too. And he’s wondering if you’re getting over it, and thinking that maybe you’ve found another man. And that thought is killing him. And then he’s feeling bad about that, because he should be glad if you’re getting over it. Mom, I never saw love in my life like he feels for you. He’s dying from this. He’s dying for you.
"Just sit there for a few minutes and give him this much. Think about him, Ma."
He saw in her face that she had decided to do as he asked. He saw her thoughts turn inward, her eyes close. She leaned back in the chair, and her body relaxed, her hands in her lap, as she thought about Johner.
After a little while tears slid slowly down from her closed eyes. She sobbed once, and then her eyes opened and she looked at him, her gaze intense. "Oh John, I want him! I want him so much. Why doesn’t he come back to me?"
As she looked at him, he saw something dawn in her eyes. She got up from her chair and picked up her keys from the counter. "I know where he is." And she was out the door.
*******
The street hadn’t changed. The street light still shone down on the spot where she had left three incapacitated bodies behind. And over there was the front door of the building.
She went in without looking at the mailboxes, and climbed the stairs. Here, it was this one. She knocked lightly.
He was sitting in the dark; he hadn’t got up yet to turn the lights on. There was really no need; it would be time to go to bed soon.
When the knock came, he almost didn’t get up to answer it. When he did get up it seemed more than he could do to face anyone. But he kept moving toward the door, almost without intending to.
When he saw her, for a long moment he didn’t think anything at all. He just looked at her, not believing. Then he thought ‘Did I go to sleep in the chair?’
She said nothing, only stood in the doorway, waiting.
He put out his hand, slowly, and touched her cheek. She was real. His hand trailed over her cheek, along her neck, and lightly touched her breast. She was real. She had come back to him. Then his arms went around her and he pulled her to him, burying his face in that beloved familiar place in her neck while he took strangled breaths and held back the tears.
After a minute he began to kiss her. Her hair, her ears, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and at last her mouth. His mouth was gentle on hers; it opened softly, and his tongue just stroked her lips, caressing them with delicate touches. It was she who asked for more, who drew his tongue into her mouth, who began to stroke his body with her hands. As she touched him, she felt the welcome surge of his erection pressed against her belly. Without any words she showed him how welcome it was, how much she had missed his touch on her.
They stood embraced, still in the open doorway, kissing and caressing one another while desire eddied through them both, quickening breath and making tremors pulse over bodies. As emotion drew to a high point, Johner picked her up in his arms, and kicking the door shut behind him he carried her to the bed. Before he laid down beside her, he reached out and turned on the small bedside lamp. She smiled up at him, remembering that he liked to make love with the lights on. Remembering---so many lovely things. This massive, rough featured, unpolished man was as wonderful a lover as there could ever be.
Still without words, he began to undress her, unfastening her clothes as he kissed and caressed her. She reached for his belt buckle, anxious to feel his skin against hers, wanting after so long to enjoy again the sensation of her breasts moving against his soft thatch of chest hair. But he stopped her, putting her hands firmly back on the bed. Then he leisurely finished the job he had started, sitting up to remove her shirt and pants, skinning her underpants off, then stopping just to look at her. He pressed her shoulders back against the bed, signaling for her to stay there. Then he got up and stood beside the bed, looking down at her, as he began to take off his clothes.
When he was finished, and that beautiful body was bare before her, he continued to stand looking down at her.
"Please, Johner, please."
He came to lie beside her then, his big body pressed against her for its full length He spoke to her at last, his voice husky and velvet soft. "Have you come back to me? Oh, Connor, have you come back to me?" Tears stood in his eyes.
"I was dying without you. I love you, I love you. Please, Johner, make love to me. Oh---oh yes, please, touch me there, oh---" His hand was on her breast, rubbing softly across its peak. His fingers closed on the nipple, pulling gently, rolling it between them, while she moaned softly.
He began then to do other things, to show her with his hands and his mouth how glad he was at her return, how much he had missed her, how he had longed for the touch of her body. And she responded gladly, with pleasure in the sensuous love he was making, and pleasure also in his joy, as he renewed his acquaintance with old delights.
*******
When John came into the kitchen the next morning, Johner was cooking breakfast.
"She found you in one night. Great. I look for three months, and then she goes out at ten o’clock one night and brings you home. How the hell did she do that? Dammit, Johner, I’m glad to see you!" John was enveloped in Johner’s bear hug, and hugged back with real pleasure.
"I was starving to death slowly on a steady diet of TV dinners. Did you know they have TV breakfasts now? It’s degenerate!" He sobered for a moment. "I am really glad to see you, Johner, for Mom’s sake. She was dying without you."
"I was---dying too. She told me that it was you who said the magic words that made her come looking for me. Thank you, John. In my life I can never repay that debt."
"Sure you can. Cook dinners.
I think forever would be long enough."