Growing Up With Beth


© Copyright 2000 by silli_artie@hotmail.com

This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of the author.

A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.

Part 14 -- Stepping Back Into the Stream

I felt the momentary roughness indicating the start of our descent into Los Angeles. "Merci," I said to a stewardess with a smile as she picked up my water glass. I straightened my seat, making sure all my goodies were packed away.

I looked at the watch on my wrist. I definitely had the best tan I’d ever had in my life. I was still getting used to the weight of a stainless steel Breitling chronograph, a gift from my "employer" of the last few weeks. I shook my head and sighed. What had I been to her? Chef? Lover? Therapist? All of the above? What had she been to me? Papi and I had talked of that, and would undoubtedly talk more.

Who would meet me? It would be Tuesday afternoon, L.A. time, the day after Labor Day. How was Ben? It had been eight weeks since his heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery. I’d see him tomorrow for sure. How was Beth? I’d spoken to her two or three times. How had she changed? I’d heard things in her voice -- joy, sadness -- more than Ben, I thought, but that was an interpretation.

I closed my eyes and sat back. How had I changed? God, how hadn’t I changed. I’d grown -- physically, mentally, spiritually. I’d learned so much, and had so much to learn. So much had happened -- so much had happened in the three weeks since Rachel had headed back.

"Monsieur Wilson," a voice said. I opened my eyes and took my sport coat from the stewardess. "Merci."

I’d have to get a lot of new clothes. I’d put a couple of inches at least on my chest. My waist was smaller. I’d grown another inch, or more. I had no idea what I weighed, but I knew I didn’t have very much fat -- I’d lost all that. God, those first weeks at the chateau had been hell. Did Rachel keep her word? She’d promised not to tell. She’d changed as well, outside and inside.

Who would be on the other side of the door? I chuckled to myself -- who was meeting them? It had been a shock to me, looking at the pictures taken over the summer, how much I’d changed. Would they recognize the young man in the sports coat and collarless shirt, the man with the dark tan, the scar over one eye? The broad muscular shoulders and trim waist? My hair was shorter, and lighter, from the sea and the pool. I felt anxiety approaching -- the unknown was on both sides of that door. I smiled, inside and outside, embracing it. I’d done this before, months ago -- and chosen the lady and the tiger.

Customs was slow but easy. My two original suitcases had been supplemented by another larger and well-used piece. Compared to French bureaucrats, these people were amateurs. Bags on the cart again, I took a breath and pushed to the door.

I was putting my foot back in the stream -- I’d taken it out a while back. The stream is the same, I am the same, yet everything is different. The stream I put my foot into is not the stream I took it out of. The foot I put back is not the foot that I took out. Even the observer, that "I," had changed.

Onward.

I glanced around as I cleared the door. Beth -- over to the side on my right. She looked beautiful, but.... A man standing next to her, arm around her waist -- protecting, unsure. His arm pulled her closer -- she moved closer. The way she breathed with his arm around her, relaxing into his embrace, the smile that came to her face, the tilt of their hips, all told me with certainty -- they were lovers.

I sighed and took another step. She had moved on with life. Good.

More to the middle of the aisle -- Betty and Sherry. They hadn’t recognized me, yet. Would they?

Betty must be wearing contact lenses -- she’d grown, and filled out. She must be taller than her mom now. I owed her mom a visit. Sherry looked luscious. Seeing her stirred me, deepened my breathing, and spread my smile.

Betty shrieked -- she recognized me. Sherry looked astonished. I pushed the cart nearer to them as they rushed me.

I picked up one in each arm, picking them up off the floor and holding them. They both hugged and kissed me. Sherry smelled delicious. God, I hope she’s not attached currently. I knew I’d need someone, desperately.

"Andy!?" Beth called out.

I put the girls down and turned to Beth. I stepped to her as she looked at me in surprise. I gave her a gentle hug. "Thank you for meeting me," I told her.

She clutched me briefly, then stepped back. I could see her heart racing, the surprise and confusion in her face.

"Is it really you?" she asked.

"C’est moi," I said, holding out my hands. Betty and Sherry grabbed me again, from both sides. I laughed.

I looked to the man, Beth’s lover. How I envied him. I wished him all the best -- I wished her all the best. I extended my hand. "I’m Andy -- it’s a pleasure to meet you."

He stepped forward a bit, extending his hand. "Roger. Beth has told me a lot about you," he said.

From the look on his face, and on hers, she hadn’t told him that much.

"Thank you for coming to meet me. I appreciate it." I turned to the girls. "Ladies, let’s get the cart out of the way so other people can depart this wonderful place!"

"Andy, I can’t believe it’s you!" Beth said, voice full of emotion.

I looked into her eyes and almost broke into tears. Was she on the verge as well? Yet I could see her happiness, her fulfillment.

I turned to my bags. Sherry moved the cart out of the way, pushing it towards an elevator. I grabbed my carry-on in one arm, and Betty in the other. Her arm flew around my waist.

"It’s quite a surprise to see you two here," I told them, after clearing my throat.

"My God, Rachel said we’d be surprised," Sherry said.

"Here, let’s carry the bags," I said, grabbing the large one.

Roger stepped up and took two. Sherry stepped to my side and gave me a hug.

As Roger led the way, Beth and I exchanged another glance.

"You have some explaining to do," she told me.

I nodded and smiled. So do you, my love, I thought.

As we walked along, I asked her, "How’s Ben doing?"

Beth nodded. "He’s back at work part time. He recovered quickly, thanks to superb care. Roger did the bypass surgery. He’s strong enough to see you -- God, Andy, I couldn’t believe how Rachel looked! Now you! What did you do? She wouldn’t talk!"

Sherry ran fingers up my back, then down to my bottom, giving me a squeeze. I smiled again -- a good sign.

"I want to see Ben. Rachel and I had a very interesting summer."

Sherry had a hand in my back pocket.

"I guess so!" Beth said.

"Roger, thanks for taking good care of Ben. He’s family."

Roger looked back and grinned. "He’s quite a character. Working with him, and his wife, has been very interesting."

I laughed some. "How did Emily do?" I asked Beth, holding out a hand to her.

She took my hand, holding it tight. "It was rough at first, but she pulled both of them through. She pulled all of us through. I think she would like to talk to you as well."

"Oh?"

Beth nodded. "Some letters from France, with grades for your summer work, recommendations, other things."

Uh oh.... "I haven’t seen those folks in three weeks or so, since shortly after Rachel left." I’d talked to Papi quite a bit, but none of the administrative folks.

Beth gave me quite the look. "I know. You moved quickly. They gave you another unit of credit for your work the last few weeks."

I raised an eyebrow and smiled.

We reached a Chevy Suburban in one of the parking garages. We loaded my bags in the back. Roger helped Beth into the front passenger seat. Was he always that gentlemanly with her, or was my presence emphasizing that? Always, there is the effect of the observer. I sat in the back between Sherry and Betty. Soon we were out in the mess surrounding the Los Angeles International Airport.

I put my sunglasses on, stretching a little and looking around. Sherry was having a hard time keeping her hands to herself. Betty was chuckling.

"You have grown, my dear," I told Betty softly, looking in her brown eyes. She sighed -- I thought she was going to melt -- or come.

"Would you like to come to my pool party Saturday?" Sherry asked from the other side.

I turned to her. "Will anyone else be there?" I asked quietly.

She grinned. "Part of the time."

I nodded.

"What happened to the kid I took to the airport a few months ago?" Beth asked, turning around in the front seat.

I smiled. "Life in the country is good for you. Fresh air, good food, clean living...."

The three ladies chuckled. Roger shook his head.

"Andy, whatever you did, you look fantastic," Beth said.

Sherry growled and ran her hands over me. Betty squealed and squeezed my right arm.

"Where were you the last three weeks?" Beth asked.

"The first week or so I was on a yacht in the Mediterranean, and the rest of the time at a villa in the south of France, a little town fifty clicks or so from the Italian border."

"Cooking?" she asked with a smile.

"Oui," I said with a nod and a smile.

"Want to cook dinner for us?" she asked.

"Not tonight! I need Mexican! You can’t get Mexican food in France -- you can’t even get the proper ingredients!"

She laughed and nodded, then shook her head again, looking at me in wonder. "How much do you weigh now?"

"No idea. I figure I grew over an inch. I bought some new stuff, but I’m going to need more clothes."

"Not with me, you won’t," Sherry whispered in my ear.

"Did Rachel get off to school okay?" I asked.

Beth shook her head, smiling. "Her parents didn’t recognize her when she got off the plane. I didn’t either, when I saw her. Andy.... Yes, she got off okay. You need to call her."

"I’ll do that."

"When does USC start?" I asked Sherry.

"Another two weeks, just before Stanford," she said with a smile.

"I like that answer," I whispered in her ear.

"And how are you doing?" I turned to Betty.

She was frowning, but that dissipated as she spoke. "I’m doing this year and going to Stanford next year, they’ve told me so," she told me. "Mom and dad agreed -- High school is a waste of time. I’m doing your schedule -- mornings and afternoons at City."

"Unless you’re helping others," I suggested.

She smiled and nodded. "Oh, I am. I’ve been tutoring since summer. That does help quite a bit. But still, there’s so much I could be doing."

After a bit, I asked, "Tell me more about Ben. What happened?" I’d only gotten summaries in brief phonecalls and faxes during the summer.

Beth turned a little more. She put a hand on Roger’s shoulder. I liked the look she gave him. I was happy for her, but it still hurt.

"He complained about not feeling well one morning, and tried to sneak off to work. But Emily took one good look at him and called an ambulance. They figure he’d had one minor attack already. He had another one at the hospital." She squeezed Roger’s shoulder again and he picked up the story.

"He was lucky. I was in his chest later that day, doing a quad bypass. His recovery has been very rapid. He says he misses his jogging partner."

I nodded. "And I miss him as well. Did he get my cards?"

Beth said, "Yes he did, and they cheered him up immensely. Emily cut back on her own work, and I think it has helped both of them."

We got to the house, and started unloading things. The Volvo was out in front -- it looked as if it had been washed and waxed.

Walking inside was strange. I was back, but I was putting my foot in a different stream. I took the bag I was carrying into the guestroom.

Something was different about the place. It took a few minutes, with the girls and Roger bringing in my other bags, Beth and I exchanging glances, before it dawned on me.

Beth always left the TV schedule from the Sunday paper on one end table in the living room -- but there wasn’t one. Things looked too tidy. The usual clutter was missing from the kitchen counter. The coffee maker -- I walked over to it -- the glass had dust on it.

She wasn’t living here any more. I heard a beeping noise as I turned to look for her.

Roger grabbed the pager on his belt, then his cell phone. He pushed a few buttons.

"This is Doctor Conn. ... Okay, has Doctor McCandless been notified? Good. Have radiology work him up, and I’ll be there in about half an hour."

He closed his phone, looked at Beth, and sighed. They hugged each other. "Don’t wait for me for dinner," he told her.

Both of them turned to me. Roger stepped forward and extended a hand. "Andy, I won’t be able to make dinner with you tonight."

I shook his hand. "I understand. Duty calls."

He nodded. "And never at convenient times. Welcome back."

He gave Beth another hug. "Can you take Sherry and Betty back?" he asked Beth.

"I can drop them at home," I told them.

Beth gave him a hug, closing her eyes briefly. I knew that look. I loved that look, and that feeling. "We’ll take care of them. Get going," she told him.

He left. Beth walked over to where I was standing in the kitchen.

"I hope you don’t mind the guest room," she whispered.

I held one of her hands. "It’s okay, Beth. You don’t have to stay here. You haven’t been here in weeks."

She sighed with a lopsided smile. "Does it show that much?"

I nodded. "Beth, you look so happy. I’m happy for you."

She grabbed me and held me. I held her. "Why don’t I feel happy then? Oh Andy...."

I held her, rocked her, putting a hand on the back of her head and leaning her on my shoulder. "Beth, we’re moving on," I whispered.

"Oh, Andy..." she whispered again, holding me.

We parted a little. We both sighed, looking at each other, then chuckled a little.

"Oh Andy, you’ve grown, and changed..." She frowned and reached up to my forehead, touching my scar. "Where did you get that?"

I smiled. "A long story -- kicked by a goat."

She smiled and shook her head. "I’d like to hear that one, I think."

I held her hands. I thought about kissing her hands, but the thought of my lips on her flesh.... That was a different stream, a different time.

"Do you love him?" I asked softly.

Her chin trembled and her eyes filled with moisture. She nodded her head a little.

My eyes were filling as well. I took a breath, smiling, and hugged her close. "Oh Beth, I can tell. Oh, it hurts, but I’m happy for you, for you both."

She sobbed as she held me, as I held her.

"Beth, I will always love you," I whispered as I held her. "You have given me so much."

I closed my eyes and held her, rocking slowly, breathing slowly. I heard a noise -- I kissed her head and stepped back. She turned so she was facing into the kitchen, wiping the tears from her face.

Betty and Sherry were standing about ten feet away. Sherry looked uncertain; Betty smiled.

"Like to see some pictures?" I asked them, changing the subject wildly.

"You bet!" Betty replied eagerly.

I turned to Beth, putting a hand on her back. "Look at some pictures with me?"

She sniffed and turned, smiling. "Yes, please," she said in a whisper.

I went to the old suitcase, and took out the set of prints Mme. Dumont had mounted for me. She had quite a talent. She’d presented me with the prints yesterday, or the day before I got on the plane, whenever that was.

I sat on the couch in the living room, pulling Beth to one side of me. Sherry sat on my other side, and Betty sat next to her.

"Our hostess at the chateau is quite the photographer. Bridget took some pictures in Paris as well, but Mme. Dumont arranged the prints."

The first picture was of a man in his sixties, with a round face, small glasses, twinkling eyes and smile, wisps of gray hair on the sides of his head. He was seated at a small table, holding a cup of coffee.

I sighed and smiled. "This is Doctor Professor Albert Michelot. We call him Papi, grandfather. I love this man. He has been father, teacher, analyst, confessor, and most of all, friend."

I showed them one of Papi and me seated at the small table in the chateau garden, both of us leaning over, leaning closer, gesturing, deep in thought. Such intensity in both of us! Oh, the life in that man!

The following print was a sepia-toned print showing Papi and Rachel standing at the table in the kitchen, working pasta dough. I felt Beth’s hand on my back.

"Papi would come out in the afternoon. He’d sit in the kitchen and we’d talk as I prepared dinner. He’d quiz me on my reading, and on the things I’d written for him. After dinner, he’d sit in the kitchen and we’d talk as I cleaned up and prepared for the next day. Then we’d go to another room in the chateau and talk more, some times for hours. He’d spend the night, and after breakfast, he’d head back to Paris. This went on two or three days a week."

The next print showed Papi smiling, turning back to look at the camera as he washed dishes in the kitchen sink.

"We put him to work, though, and he loved it. He showed up one afternoon when I had to put on a dinner for twenty-four -- twenty-four! He pitched in, helped with everything, even serving and cleaning up, all with a smile."

I sighed again, and looked to Beth. Our eyes met. "I told him things I’ve never told another soul, not even myself," I said softly to her. She nodded and smiled.

The next picture was another sepia toned print of a man and a woman. The man was tall, rugged, with an expressive face and neatly trimmed moustache. The woman was almost as tall, athletic, with a smile that radiated both energy and calm.

"You wanted to know what happened to Rachel and me? These wonderful people are part of the answer. This is Mon Colonel, Bernard Humair, and his wife Jeanne. The Dumonts knew they needed more help with the chateau, so they hired Bernard to be groundskeeper, and Jeanne to help with the chateau, and whatever else needed doing. Bernard took early retirement from the French military -- he led an army unit that’s their equivalent of our Green Berets. Jeanne has competed for France in three Olympic games in track and field. She also teaches yoga. Rachel and I were so lucky. They decided to get us into shape. I think they succeeded."

"I’ll say," Beth muttered, feeling the muscles on my back and shoulders.

I laughed. "Those first weeks were tough. Bernard got us up before dawn and put us through hell. Jeanne would join us and we’d run halfway to Antwerp and back, then do yoga. In the evening she’d lead us in yoga and meditation. Bernard put together an obstacle course, and had us doing other fun things, like hand-to-hand."

"That where you got the scar?" Betty asked. I looked over to her. Sherry touched my forehead.

"Nope, that’s another picture. Kicked in the head by a goat."

Betty laughed; Sherry gave me a funny look.

The next print was a color one, taken that first week. Rachel and I looked exhausted, and pretty damn flabby. We’d just come back from a run. Bernard and Jeanne were practically laughing at us. "I guess this one is ‘before.’"

The next one was a more formal picture in front of the main fireplace. "In the middle are the Dumonts, the owners of the chateau." Rachel and I were to one side of them, Bernard and Jeanne on the other.

The next print is one of my favorites. It’s a black and white close-up. "This is Grand-mère, grandmother. What a soul she is! She taught us so much."

The next print was of her weathered hands as she cut vegetables. "She is such a treasure."

There were a few pictures of us in the kitchen, and serving meals.

"The woman on the end in this one is Bridget. She’d drop in from time to time. We spent the first few days in Paris together, and then she was off for most of the summer."

Betty gave me an interesting glance at that one.

The next picture was taken at a brasserie in the Latin Quarter of Paris. I was in the middle, seated between two women.

"Bridget took this one, I think the third day I was in Paris. The older woman is Mme. Dumay, Doctor Dumay. The younger woman is her protégé, Rosemarie. Thanks to them, I met Papi. Thanks to them, I learned a great deal. I was able to help them as well, I think."

Beth and I exchanged interesting glances at that -- Beth raised an eyebrow.

"Mme. Dumay is a respected psychologist, but has moved into more, ah, applied areas of the art. And she is an artist, and a healer. Next summer I may spend in Paris, working with her, Rosemarie, and Papi."

I had some pictures I’d taken of the chateau, showing different views. I pointed out work we’d done, and work remaining.

The next one was of the yacht. "This is the little boat I spent a week or so on. It belongs to the guy who owns the financial house M. Dumont works for. Oh, Bernard goes to work for them this fall as well -- he wanted to work with his hands for the summer as a transition. He got more than he bargained for."

The next print was a bit larger, showing me diving off the top deck of the boat. I was almost wearing a sort of g-string bathing suit -- with no tan lines showing, either.

"Is that you?" Betty asked. Sherry gave me a squeeze.

"Yeah, that’s an ‘after’ picture," I told them. Beth chuckled.

The next one was of the dining salon. I was dressed chef-style in my whites, standing proudly behind the dishes spread in front of me, a group of people standing on one side of the table.

"This is one of the fancy meals I did onboard. I served eight that night. The older pair in the middle are the owner and his wife. He’s a character -- Swiss-German, retentive, perfectionist. I’d like to know more about his mother. The other pair, the old guy with the young wife, next to Bernard, is another financier with the firm, Daniel Lubat and his wife Carol. Daniel hired me to cook for Carol at their villa in the South of France while he was in Brussels for a few weeks."

Sherry and Betty both gave me wide-eyed looks. I smiled. Beth squeezed the back of my neck. God, how nice it would be to let go to her again. But, that was a different time.

"Professor Michelot gave you 40 hours of supervised analysis for that work," Beth mentioned.

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Did he! I was on the phone almost every day with him, or occasionally Madame Dumay."

She nodded, smiling. "I had to have Emily and Ben translate for me. He also gave you another unit, to go along with the credits from earlier in the summer."

I nodded. "I owe Papi a letter."

She chuckled. "More than that, I think. You owe him the rest of a paper. Henri wants to see it as well, and Emily is demanding English translations of all of them."

I sighed, smiling. "I was pushed so much, in so many directions! It was so grand! Grand-mère, Papi, Bernard and Jeanne..." I looked to Beth again. "And thanks to you, I didn’t know how to fail, so I kept going -- I succeeded."

We gazed into each other’s eyes for a bit, smiling.

I returned to the prints, just a few left, two of the villa, and one of Rachel and me standing on a balcony at the chateau, standing toe to toe.

I set them down.

"That all?" Betty asked. "Did you use your digital camera?"

I chuckled a little. "I have more than a thousand shots from that! I’ve weeded some out. The camera and computer were a godsend. I recorded every significant meal I did, and most of the rest as well. Even got a picture of the damn goat."

"Are you going to tell us the story, or not?" Betty said.

I laughed and leaned back a bit. Jet lag was catching up with me. I looked at my watch -- a little after five.

"Where did you get that?" Beth asked.

I smiled. "Gift from Carol."

"The goat!" exclaimed Betty.

"Okay, okay. We made a lot of trips around the area, mostly on bicycle. Over in Pionsat, a little village, they have a great dairy for goat cheese. We visited there one day, one of our so-called days off, when I only had to do two meals, and just for us, no guests, other than Papi, or Mme. Dumay."

"They have two hundred goats. That’s a hundred ninety nine females, and one male."

The ladies chuckled.

"That’s how Bernard and I looked at it -- one tired but very lucky goat. I got to meet him. He was standing up on a mound of dirt. I made the mistake of bending over to pick something up off the ground, and the bastard nailed me. No warning -- blam. Knocked me out cold. Rachel was worried I’d been seriously injured. Bernard borrowed some silk thread and put three stitches in my head."

Beth shuddered. "Did he at least clean the wound first?"

I grimaced a bit at the memory. "Oh yeah, with some home-made Eau-de-Vie -- French Moonshine. They drink it, cook with it, and use it to strip off paint and grease."

"What did you do after that?" Betty asked.

"We got on our bikes and rode back to the chateau. I talked to Grand-mère about recipes for goat."

Beth laughed, rubbing my back. I felt better. I sighed and my eyes closed.

"Getting tired?" she asked.

I raised my head. "Yes -- it’s catching up with me. I could use something to eat as well. What’s your schedule, ladies?" I asked Betty and Sherry.

Betty smiled. Sherry shrugged. "Get back later. That’s it."

Betty said, "We could go home now, and then you two could go to dinner."

I felt Beth’s hand on my back. I smiled to Betty -- her offer had gone over Sherry’s head.

"I’d like you to join us. I’d like to hear what else is going on," I told them.

I glanced over to Beth. She nodded.

I went to the bathroom. When I finished, Beth said, "I’ll drive, okay?"

"Probably a good idea," I said. I was feeling wiped out. We rode in Beth’s car.

We were early, and had a good dinner. Sherry was ready for USC. Betty was taking French from my old teacher at City, Calculus, and anthropology. She was also tutoring in math, physics, and French.

When Sherry stepped off to the bathroom for a moment, Betty took my hand. "Come to dinner at our house on Sunday?"

I smiled. "I’d love to. What can I cook?"

She beamed. "I’ll let you know."

I paid for part of dinner and Beth picked up the rest. She remarked on how frugal I’d been, aside from the initial registration fees I’d been charged by the University in Paris. I told her the Dumonts had been very generous in their compensation.

We dropped Sherry off first. She whispered to me to call any time, giving me a sensuous hug.

We dropped Betty off at her house. I hugged her and walked her to the door.

"Betty, thank you so much for meeting me today," I told her.

She beamed and went inside.

I got back in the car, fastened my seatbelt, leaned back, and sighed.

"Oh, Andy...." Beth said.

Our hands met halfway.

"Beth, it’s good to be back. It really is."

"Then why..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"Beth, when I came out of customs, I saw the two of you standing off to the side. I saw the way he held you, and the way you responded -- the way you breathed, the way you relaxed into him, the way you smiled, smiling from deep inside, moving closer to him. I knew right then. I hope he’s good enough for you, that’s all."

She sighed as she drove us back to the condo. "I think so, Andy. He’s still figuring it out, I think."

"I don’t know how anyone could find a more wonderful person," I said, holding her hand.

She laughed, a bittersweet laugh. "Oh, you’ll find a more wonderful person -- I know you will."

I nodded. "I agree. I have. We have a lot of growing up to do, a lot of learning to do."

She squeezed my hand. "Andy, you’ve done quite a bit already. What are you going to do now?"

I sighed and thought. "See Ben and Emily tomorrow. I owe Papi the last chunk of a paper, and I should do translations -- it won’t take me long to crank them out, if I do them now. Maybe I can pick up some credit for the English language versions."

"Oh, I’m sure of that. Henri has seen a preprint of one, and raves about it -- of course he raves about a lot of things. Have you decided anything more about school?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. I’ll challenge what courses I can, and study what I can. I know I want to go back to Europe. Papi says I should spend a year in Vienna, or Geneva. We’ll see. For now, I’ll stay on the psych -- pre-med track."

I looked over to her. I could see the faint lines of a tear on her face.

"Beth, I will always love you. You don’t have to stay tonight, not for me. Go to him, please."

The tear rolled a little faster. She smiled and nodded, looking straight ahead at the road, squeezing my hand.

She parked in front. We stood at the door. She dug in her purse and handed me a slip of paper. "Rachel’s phone number in the dorm. She wants you to call."

I took it, holding her hands. "Thanks, I will."

She smiled. "Would you like me to tuck you in?"

I shook my head. "Not tonight, thanks. I need to shower, and sort dirty clothes. Do you mind if I sleep in the big bed?"

She sniffled. "No. You’re right -- I haven’t slept there for weeks. Oh, Andy...."

I gave her a quick hug. "Be there for him. I still need to fix you dinner, though."

"Maybe Thursday?"

I nodded. "That would be fine."

"Good night, Andy," she said, kissing me on the cheek.

"Good night, Mistress," I said, holding her to me once more.

I waited for her to drive off, then went into the house.

I put on some music -- Carol always had music playing. I sorted laundry. We had enough detergent, barely. I started making a list of things to get.

I was about to get in the shower when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

It was Henri. Why hadn’t I called? I just got in a few hours ago, that’s why I hadn’t called. He loved the first paper I’d written -- when was I sending him the others? After I got them finished and blessed by Papi, hopefully this week. When was I doing English translations? Maybe next week. If I got them done by the end of the next week, he’d help me submit them for publication. I told him I’d check with Papi, as he was having the French ones published in a European journal. How had I gotten hooked up with such weirdos and mystics, he wanted to know. I laughed and told him it was good luck, or maybe fate. I loved Papi, and had learned a great deal from him. When was I coming up? In a week and a half. Where was I staying? In a dorm. Did I need anything? Yes, I needed to take a shower and get some sleep. He laughed, and we said goodbye.

Showering felt grand. I did some relaxation poses afterwards, sat in meditation for a few minutes, then climbed into bed. It was cold and lonely, but I was exhausted.

I woke up around three thirty in the morning. I only needed to flop around for a few minutes to realize that going back to sleep again wasn’t going to happen. So, I got up.

It was strange, being alone. I’d so looked forward to being back, sleeping in this bed again.... Ah well -- I got my wish, sort of.

I moved things around in the living room and did my morning yoga and exercises. That felt a whole lot better. I pushed myself more than I had in the last few weeks, and it felt good. I’d go out for a run when it got light outside.

But I’d done my morning routine, and then some, and it was a little after five in the morning. Now what? Breakfast? No, I wanted to go out on a long run. My body thought it was far later in the day.

Aha, that’s the clue. Rachel’s phone number was on the fridge in the kitchen. I got the cordless phone and called. It should be just after eight in the morning.

"Hullo?" answered a sleepy female voice after a few rings.

"Hi -- is Rachel there?"

"Depends -- who’s this?"

"Tell her Andy is calling, please."

I heard a somewhat muffled voice say, "Hey! You want to talk to Andy?" followed by, "Gimmie that!"

"God, I miss you. I love you. Where are you?" Rachel said, sleepy but excited.

"I love you and miss you too, sweetie. I’m back in Los Angeles."

"Oh." She sounded dejected again.

"You knew?" I asked her.

"Yeah, I met him. Have you talked to Beth about him?"

"A little. When I first saw them standing together, waiting for me at the airport, I could tell. She looked so happy, so relaxed with him."

"How do you feel about it?"

"God, Rachel, I don’t know. After all I talked with Papi, all we worked through -- I’m happy for her -- she’s moved on with her life. Yet still -- God, I’d like to be in her arms once more. I need to be in your arms."

"I’d like you in my arms. You wanna visit?"

I laughed a little. "Maybe later in the year, when you have some snow. How’s school going?"

"It’s okay. Some classes are good, and some are a drag. I challenged a bunch of French classes. Oh... I’m a psych major now."

I sighed. "Was I a bad influence?"

She laughed. "God no. You, and Papi, and Rosemarie -- especially Rosemarie and Madame Dumay. I want to go back and study with them."

"So do I. They told me they could find me a restaurant to work in, or a rich woman to keep me for the summer while I studied. That would be grand."

"We should do it together, Andy. We make quite a team. And the only one who’s going to keep you is me."

"Rachel, that’s so tempting. Especially right now."

She laughed. "Anyone else there to meet you? What are you going to do? God -- it must be five in the morning out there!"

"Yup, a little after five, but I don’t know what time it is. I did my morning routine already. I’m waiting for the sun to come up before going for a run. Have you kept up with it?"

"Oh, you better believe it! I signed up for a yoga class at school, and moved to the advanced class after the first two sessions. I run on the track every day. And I dream about you..."

I decided to change the subject a little. "Betty and Sherry were there at the airport too. Betty has grown, filled out nicely."

I heard Rachel sigh. "Andy, watch out for Sherry."

"Why? She seemed pretty hot to see me. Just the distraction I need right now."

"I talked to her, and to some of the others as well. She’s been playing around a lot. She’s playing games, Andy. Just be careful, for me, and for you, please."

"Okay, I will. She’s invited me to a pool party at her place this weekend. I may see her before then."

Rachel laughed. "Oh, I’d be pretty sure of that, the way you look now. How was the yacht thing?"

I sighed. "It was a gas. I had a lot of fun cooking. Of course the owner only wanted sauerbraten and beer, but everyone else liked my cooking. But that’s not the wild part."

"Oh? Tell me more!"

"One of the other couples aboard was another arbitrageur and his wife. He’s in his 50’s and she’s mid 30’s. He had to go off to Brussels for a few weeks, and he hired me to cook for his wife at their summer villa..."

Rachel laughed. "Oh he did, did he? And what kind of cooking did he expect you to do?"

I laughed a little. "Oh, he told me exactly what he expected me to do. I did that, and more. God, after the first few days I was on the phone with Papi every day. I was working on her, one way or the other, until I headed back. It was hard work. I need a break."

"Oh, poor baby. I can imagine how hard you worked. Did you train her to hold you and get you lost?"

I sighed. "Not as well as you, beautiful. I slept alone last night, and it’s really the shits."

"Tell me about it. You want to lay back and have me take you over the phone?"

I sighed and considered it. "No, not right now. I still need to stew for a while. I’ll take some escape in a long run this morning."

"I’m here, Andy. I might call you.... When do you move?"

"Week or so. I’ll send you e-mail when I get settled. I’m looking forward to it."

"I’ve got to get going -- I’ve got a class to go to. I’m challenging some of the intro psych classes -- Papi sent the department a wonderful letter. It’s great to hear your voice again. God, a few nights ago I dreamed you had me, took me, and made love with me -- it was so intense."

"Freaked out your room mate yet?" I asked her.

"No, Deb is pretty cool. We go running together. She’s in the bathroom now. I’m waiting for the chance to hypnotize her. She’s going to be fun."

"Be careful, please. Papi is a long distance call."

"So are you, Andy, but you’re a lot closer. I wish you were a lot closer, right now."

"So do I, Rachel. So do I. Study hard. Got holiday plans yet?"

"Nope. I’m here for turkey day though. Maybe we can work something out."

"I miss you. I love you. I’ll let you go. I think I can brave the streets now."

"Thanks for calling, Andy. Take care -- have fun, but don’t trust Sherry. Call me whenever. I’ll send my schedule to your old e-mail address."

"Bye, Rachel. I love you, sweetie."

"I love you, Andy. Bye."

We hung up. I sighed, then turned off the phone and tossed it to the couch. I did some more pushups and sit-ups, then more yoga as it got a little lighter outside. I took a leak and got my running stuff on, pinning the house key to my shorts and putting my driver’s license in the inside pocket. I headed off to run my troubles into submission.

Well, I distracted them for a while, anyway. Running on streets, pavement, and asphalt was a whole hell of a lot different than running in the French countryside or on the beach. I hadn’t had a good, long, run in a while -- my mornings had been occupied with lovemaking, cooking, and therapy.

I ran for a little over an hour, jumping into the condo’s swimming pool when I got back. I swam a bit, then went back to the condo to shower.

After cleaning up, I did something else I hadn’t done in a few weeks. I sat down and did breathing exercises and some seated meditation. How did I feel about Beth? How did I feel about Rachel’s warning?

I focused on my breath, letting the feelings bounce around. That image of the two of them in the airport came back to me -- her smile, the way she smiled from deep inside as he held her around the waist. That meant a lot to me -- it made me feel good. Yet with that feeling was the certainty that we’d never be lovers again. How I longed....

But I knew I had to let go of that longing. That’s where suffering starts, when we don’t get what we think we want, or when we get what we think we don’t want. Craving and aversion -- the source of suffering. Easy to say, hard to do. Beth was moving on with life. I needed to as well.

I checked the kitchen. Not much there -- Beth hadn’t been here for weeks. Guess I’ll go out. I’d see Ben, and maybe Carl. I might drop by Betty’s French class at City. What about clothes? I had some, but would undoubtedly need more. I should try things on and give away what didn’t fit anymore. I should try on Sherry and see if she fits....

The battery in my cellphone was dead. I put it on the charger though, and it still worked. I got the car charger and went out to "my" car, the Volvo. I got sixty bucks in cash for my wallet, emptying out the francs. U.S. money is so weird -- all the same size and color.

I drove over to a local Denny’s. I walked in and backed out. The smell of the food, and the way things looked were ghastly. So what did I do, but go to McDonald’s and get their coffee substitute and an Egg McMuffin (with catsup). Grand-mère probably cried out in pain....

I sat in a booth, eating my so-called breakfast and reading the local paper. I went back out to the car. Half past eight -- I knew I needed to keep moving today, through the afternoon at least.

I picked up the phone and called Ben’s house. Emily answered.

"Good morning," I said, "This is Andy Wilson."

"Andrew! How wonderful to hear from you. You’re back in town?"

"Yes, Doctor, I arrived yesterday. Could I see Ben today?"

"Why of course! He’s just showering! Come right over, please! I’d like to see you as well. We’ve heard very interesting reports on your summer."

I chuckled a bit. "I imagine you have. Okay, I’ll be over in about half an hour."

"That will be wonderful, Andrew. I look forward to seeing you."

"Thank you, Emily. I look forward to seeing you as well."

I hung up the phone and headed over to their house.

I parked and rang the doorbell.

Ben answered the door, wearing sweats. His jaw dropped in surprise. "Andy! You’re back! You’ve grown! Emily, Andy is here!" He practically danced me in the door.

We hugged. He’d lost weight, and looked better. He even had a bit of a tan.

Emily stepped into the room. I parted with Ben and gave her a hug.

"Thank you for everything," I told her.

She stepped back, shaking her head. "You have grown! What happened to you?"

"Come, come, let’s sit down," Ben said, leading us to the kitchen.

"Orange juice?" he offered. I nodded and he poured me a glass. He did look to be in better shape.

"How are you doing, Ben?" I asked.

He sat down and smiled. "Much better, especially seeing you! Oh, I had a rough few weeks, but I’m feeling better than I have in years, now. What the hell happened to you? Beth told us that your companion, Rachel, was practically unrecognizable when she got back."

I recounted part of the story, about Bernard and Jeanne whipping us into shape. I teased more details out of Ben and Emily about their summer. Ben was sorry he’d missed the trip, and glad I’d been able to handle some matters for him.

Emily wanted to know about my studies. She’d heard various things from Henri. I sighed and told her I wanted to finish the paper for Papi, and the translations, by the end of next week. She smiled and nodded, offering to proof the English versions. I told her I’d take her up on that.

I told her of working with Papi, and working with others under his guidance. He was such a gem. I told them of him helping cook, and serve, how he poured wine for a group of egotistical financiers, smiling all the time.

"And you also worked with Professor Dumay..." Emily said, with an interesting smile.

I nodded. "She is an amazing woman. I learned a great deal from her. It’s through her I met Papi. Originally, Henri had me set up with this young Turk. We arranged to meet one morning, at a local cafe. By chance, I think, Madame Dumay and her protégé Rosemarie were there. One can never be sure if such things are truly chance when she is involved."

Emily gave me a smile and a nod. Madame Dumay was more widely known than I’d supposed.

"When this guy showed up, he took one look at Madame Dumay, and practically scurried off with his tail between his legs! And she looked to me, smiled, and said, ‘He will not do. I will suggest someone.’ And that’s how I came to work with Papi. He is a treasure."

Emily nodded. "You have picked some interesting people to work with, Andrew. You are walking an interesting path." She looked at the clock. "But now, Ben, I need to get you to your checkup."

I looked at them. "I can do that if you’d like."

Ben piped up. "I’d like that!" Then he grumbled. "They don’t want me driving yet."

Emily laughed. "You agreed, dear. Andrew, that would be a big help. But you have to promise to take him right to work afterwards, and not stop along the way. He’s watching his diet quite closely, aren’t you, dear?"

Ben grumbled, but smiled. He leaned over and they kissed. "Yes, dear."

I laughed.

As Ben changed, I asked Emily, "Where are we going?"

She handed me a card -- Doctor Roger Conn.

I smiled and nodded, a sad-ish smile.

"You’ve met Roger?" she asked. The look on her face told me she’d noticed my reaction.

"Yes -- he was with Beth at the airport yesterday."

She nodded, non-judgmental as usual. "He is a nice man."

Nice non-commital lead. "For a cutter?" I suggested.

She actually smiled. "How do you feel?"

I looked at her. I was smiling. "About them? I saw the look on her face when he touched her. I saw the way she responded to his touch. I’m very happy for her. Yes, it hurts -- Papi and I went through that, and so much more. Yet talking about it and living it are two different things. We move on, working it out."

She nodded. "Michelot has a superb reputation as an analyst."

I nodded, tears forming. "Far more than that. I bared my soul. And I couldn’t have done it without the preparation you and Beth gave me."

She smiled a little more. "When the student is ready..."

"Let’s go. Not to keep the Doctor waiting, even though we do the waiting," Ben said, coming back into the room. He gave Emily a hug.

I gave her a hug as well. "We should get together for an evening and talk," I told her.

She nodded. "Or you could come to the office. I’ve cut back, and have the time."

I looked at Ben, giving him a cross look. "Have you been trouble?"

Ben gave me a startled and accusatory look. "You’re turning into one of them! And I thought you were a friend!" Then he laughed, and hugged me. "Of course I’ve been trouble. Let’s go."

We headed off to Conn’s office. I found myself talking to Ben, drawing him out. The first few days after surgery had been hell. But after that, he bounced back quickly. We talked about my summer a bit, mostly the time at the chateau, working with Bernard.

We checked in with Conn’s office -- he shared a suite with three other cardiologists, and seemed to be the low man on the totem pole. I saw him briefly through the reception window, and he acted a bit startled, but then he smiled.

A nurse called Ben back. A few minutes later, as I was reading a magazine, still getting used to the look of printed English, I heard, "Mister Wilson?"

I looked up. The same nurse was standing at the door. I walked over to her. "Yes?"

"This way," she said, and walked back. I followed her. She led me to room number four. "Doctor Conn will be with you in a few minutes."

I went in. She closed the door. I chuckled. I was looking forward to chatting with the good Doctor. I slipped off my shoes and sat on the examining table, pulling my legs into Lotus. Well, half-lotus. My right hip was stiff. I chuckled again and peeled off my shirt -- might as well play the part. I closed my eyes and focused on the breath.

I opened my eyes as the door opened. Roger stepped in, closing the door again.

He gave me a strange look. "Why the shirt?"

I smiled. "I thought it would make you more comfortable."

He laughed and held out his hand. We shook.

"Andy, you don’t impress me as one who is swayed by such trappings."

I looked at him. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. "Tell me, Doc -- am I going to live?"

He pulled up a chair and sat down, chuckling. "A long time, if you take care of yourself as you’ve been doing."

We looked at each other for a while. Finally he said, "Thanks, Andy."

"For what?"

"Beth was home when I finally got in last night."

I nodded, not saying anything. Yes, Ben -- I am turning into one of them.

"Roger, do you love her?" I asked him point-blank after another minute of silence.

He sighed and leaned forward a bit. His indecision resolved into a smile as he looked at me. "Yes, I do."

"Have you told her?" I asked.

He sighed again, looking at his hands. Then he looked at me and asked, "Do you love her?"

I answered immediately. "Of course I love her. She saved my life, and made me what I am. I’ll always love her. Beth and Ben are all I have for parents."

He nodded. I sat there, waiting. Thank you, Emily. Thank you, Papi. I waited, patiently.

Finally he said, "I need to tell her."

I nodded and remained silent, looking at him, accepting him as he was, not judging, or at least trying not to judge.

"I need to show her," he added.

I nodded again.

He sighed again and stood up. I unfolded my legs and stood up as well. We shook hands again.

"Andy, thanks. I need to get back to it."

I nodded. "Roger, just one thing," I said as I put my shirt back on.

"Yes?"

I looked him in the eye. "Roger, if you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down."

He raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "Don’t worry. I get the idea."

We walked out to the front. "How is Ben doing?" I asked.

That cued the doctor persona. "He’s making a very good recovery. His lipid profile is shifting without resort to medication, and his blood pressure has responded well. He’s motivated to make the requisite lifestyle changes, and has a good support network."

We reached the door to the waiting room. I shook his hand again. "Thank you, Doctor."

He shook his head and chuckled. "Thank you, Andy. Don’t let him talk you into stopping for a burger."

I laughed. "I promised Emily I’d take him right to the office."

Ben was waiting for me. We walked back to the car.

Ben complained about being poked and prodded. I laughed and told him I was very glad he was still around to complain so loudly, and with so much energy. He grumbled a bit more, then smiled.

I dropped him at the office, spending some time talking to Kelly.

I was hungry again, and getting tired. Ben couldn’t have burgers, but I could -- and I hadn’t had one in a long time. As I polished off my double-double burger, I tried my phone again, calling Sherry. I got her answering machine. "Hi sweetie," I said. "I’ll be home this afternoon. Give me a call if you’re not busy."

I headed back to the condo and set up the computer. I thought about moving files onto my old machine, but the PowerBook was faster, and had more storage. I got out my French keyboard and dug into the remainder of the paper for Papi.

I finished it about three. I had Papi’s fax number in Paris, but didn’t have a fax machine to receive stuff back here. I called Emily, and asked if I could have Papi’s comments sent to her office fax. She readily agreed, wanting to know how I was doing on translations. I chuckled and told her I was going to start them after I spoke to her.

I’d actually whipped through the first part of my "Participation Mystique" paper when the doorbell rang. I saved my work and stretched as I stood up -- I’d put in a solid hour.

I opened the door and Sherry grabbed me. I managed to get the door closed, and get us back to the bedroom. Somehow we stripped in record time, without our lips parting, at least for very long. I grabbed a condom, and we were soon rolling around on the bed together.

I was on top of her, pushing deep inside her. I got a hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently. Her eyes closed and she moaned and shuddered. I let go, let things happen. I came as we kissed, relaxing in her arms.

I pulled the cover over us, snuggling in afterwards. I found a nipple, and she held me. I took a deep breath and let go.

Oh, so many conflicting feelings -- my love for Beth, for Rachel -- the time with Carol the last two weeks. What weird relationships -- yet so deep, so strong, so solid. Papi and I had worked through those for so many hours, and I’d worked with Rachel, under his guidance, helping her open up and grow.

And Sherry? Pure physical convenience -- and I’m sure she felt the same way about me. Yet in her arms, I could open up, take comfort. She had taken so much from me -- now it was my turn.

She sighed and started to move. I let go of her with a kiss. She sat up.

"I got your message," she said.

"I guessed. Dinner with me?" I replied.

"Not tonight. How about lunch tomorrow? I could come over in the morning?"

I sat up and held her, kissing her shoulder. "That would be nice."

We cleaned up and got dressed. Standing by the door, she said, "Thanks, Andy -- I needed that."

I held her and kissed her again. "So did I. See you tomorrow."

I saw her out, and watched her drive away.

I looked at the clock -- a quarter after five. I hadn’t done any shopping yet. I got the car keys and my list, and headed out.

American stores -- what a shock. Having so much stuff under one roof is tremendous. But some of the selections were so limited. I knew what Grand-mère would say about most of the vegetables -- not even fit for swine. God, how could you call those things tomatoes? The meat was nice, but where was the variety?

The other pisser was thinking about cooking for one. The last two weeks, I’d cooked for two. For most of the summer, it was four, six, or more -- some times a lot more. I decided for tonight I’d put a bunch of things on a ready-made pizza crust. Oh God -- I couldn’t buy wine here! What in the world was I going to do? I hoped Beth hadn’t cleaned out all the wine!

When I got home, I found she hadn’t. I opened a California Merlot as I put my dinner together, the pizza and a salad. I moved the laptop into the living room where I could work, eat, and listen to music at the same time.

A little after seven the phone rang. The woman calling asked for Beth. I told her she wasn’t in, could I take a message?

"Is this Andrew Wilson?"

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

She was Miriam Hsiu, and was organizing a reception Saturday night for new Stanford students and their parents in the area. Could I attend? What time? Oh, starting at five. I thought for a bit, and told her tentatively I’d be there. I didn’t know about Beth. I got her phone number and address, and wrote those in my book. She was over in Torrance.

I didn’t have a phone number, or an address for Beth. Oh well.

I went to bed a little after ten, completing one draft. I gave up on close literal translations early, going instead for the idea, and in many cases, the feeling. One of my main references was a paper without an English translation. I smiled to myself -- didn’t have an English translation yet. That could turn into an "independent study" project. I faxed a request to Papi, along with my draft, asking him to contact the author, and see if he was interested in having that particular paper translated.

The last few weeks in France, I’d done my morning workout and run about mid-morning. It was good to get back to doing it first thing. I ran a different route, with less traffic. I needed a different pair of shoes for running on streets and such.

I’d just about finished another draft when Sherry arrived. She brought a new swimsuit -- she’d gotten it yesterday, and had wanted to show it to me, but we’d gotten distracted. It was quite nice, what there was of it. We had a dip in the pool, then went back to the condo.


After a swim such as that, it’s important to rinse off the chlorine and other pool chemicals -- that’s what had bleached out my hair. Well, we showered together anyway.

We were more relaxed as we returned to the bedroom. I spread her on her back, eased her into trance, and ate her. I moved to her head, and took her through memories of those sensations, bringing her to orgasm again, transferring some of the pleasure and sensitivity to her breasts. I put on a condom, and had her ride me, holding me.

The almost clinical nature of the preparation I’d done with her didn’t detract from the pleasure, for either of us. She held me to a nipple and rocked on top of me, and I gave myself to the moment. She held me and rocked me afterwards, and I drifted to sleep in her arms.

I awoke alone. "Had to go!" was written in lipstick on the mirror in the bathroom. I cleaned that up with a frown, and had lunch. Rachel had been right -- thank you for the warning, my love.

By five I was happy with the translation of the first paper. I faxed it to Papi, and to Emily. I was about to go for another run/swim, when the doorbell rang. I sort of frowned as I went to answer it.

But this time, Beth swept in, hugging me.

"Oh, Andy..." she said as she held me.

When we pulled apart, I asked, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She was beaming. She pulled me to the couch. "What did you say to him?"

I guess I looked puzzled.

"To Roger -- he finally admitted you two talked yesterday. What did you say to him?"

I smiled. "What did he say to you? Isn’t that more important?"

She nodded. "It is. He told me he loved me. He’s hardly stopped telling me since. What did you say to him?"

"Is that important?" I asked her.

She sighed. "No, but I’m curious."

I nodded. "I saw Ben and Emily yesterday morning. Ben accused me of turning into ‘one of them.’ I’m afraid I was ‘one of them’ when I talked to Doctor Conn yesterday. Some times you say the most, elicit the most from someone, by not saying anything at all."

Beth nodded. "You told him you loved me?"

I took her hands. "Beth, I love you, and I always will. I owe you my life. Everything I have become, everything I will become, I owe to you. You and Ben are my parents now. It’s that simple. That’s what I told him."

She said softly, "All I did..."

"Was save my life, open my eyes, open so many doors..." I interrupted.

She nodded and sighed. "Roger wants to take us to dinner. We’re to meet him. How does that sound?"

I stood up, pulling her up and hugging her. "Sounds as if I should change."

I changed clothes. When I came out of the bedroom, she was sitting in the living room, looking over what I hoped was the final draft of my first translated paper.

She looked up at me with puzzlement and said, "You wrote this?"

I nodded. "It’s an English rewrite of one I did for Papi. I can’t call it a translation. You like?"

She shook her head. "Andy.... This is masterful. Some of your phrases.... Has Emily seen this?"

"I faxed copies to her and Papi earlier today."

"May I have this one?"

"Only if you promise to give me comments on it by Saturday evening."

She chuckled. "You are becoming one of them."

"Let’s go meet Roger," I told her.

She drove us.

I got a phone number and address for her. I told her about talking with Rachel, her warnings, and Sherry’s visit. I also told her about the Stanford thing Saturday night.

"Andy, do you still love her?" Beth asked.

I sighed and held her hand. "Yes. This year is going to be hard for both of us, but we’ll get through it."

"You’ve told her?"

I sighed. "Starting the moment she stepped off the plane in Paris, and I haven’t stopped."

"And Sherry?" she asked.

I nodded. "Rachel and I love each other, but neither expects the other to remain celibate."

We met Roger at a Mediterranean-style place south of Newport Beach. When he saw us, he walked up to Beth, hugged her, and said quite clearly, "I love you."

Hearing him, seeing her response -- "hurt so good" is the best I can explain what it did to me.

We had a leisurely dinner. They drew me out more on the summer, what we’d done.

At one point Roger said, "You’re describing people in terms of their psychology."

I thought about his remark. I guess I did -- when I met people now, I tried to look inside and understand.

"When you meet people, don’t you evaluate them medically? Wonder what condition their cardiovascular system is in?"

He nodded. "Touché."

Dinner went well, until his pager went off. He got up, saying, "Excuse me," and stepped out to the lobby.

Beth sighed. I picked up my wine glass and swirled the last of mine, swallowing it. Roger had handed me the wine list when we sat down, and the waiter didn’t blink at serving me.

"We need to work out something to keep me in wine," I told Beth. She was still looking to the lobby, a look of worry on her face.

Roger returned a few minutes later. He didn’t even sit down. He leaned over Beth, kissing her on the neck.

"I’ve got to go. I’ve taken care of the bill -- have dessert and coffee if you like. I’ll probably be five or six hours." He turned to me. "It was good to see you, Andy." He hurried off.

Beth sighed again. I put a hand on top of the table, and she took it.

"I didn’t get to ask him about Saturday," I said.

She gave a half smile, shaking her head slowly. "I’ll ask him. I might go anyway." Her voice was far away -- I could feel the distance, and it hurt me.

We left shortly thereafter. She dropped me off. The hug she gave me was reserved.

I sighed as I watched her drive away. This was going to be a tough one, I could tell. How do I move without attachment? How do I aid others, without attachment? But I do make attachments -- that’s what the counter-transference is about, at least in part. Ah well, life is about making accommodations.

I printed off another copy of the first paper, and the English rewrite. I played a bit with the English one, tightening up some of the phrasing. I laughed to myself -- editing, like the path I was on, was a path without end. I started on the second paper, but gave up after about an hour and went to bed.

Friday morning I did my usual thing. I cut my run a bit short -- I needed new running shoes.

About nine thirty I got a call from Emily. I’d gotten comments faxed back from Papi. Could I come by? Of course, I told her, what would they like me to cook for them for dinner tonight?

She laughed, but I told her I was serious. It was very difficult cooking for one. And, it would be a small repayment for all I owed her. We could discuss it at her office at ten thirty.

I arrived with revised copies for her. She showed me back to her office.

I sat down, thinking of the hours I’d spent here with her, all that had transpired. It hadn’t even been a year. How I’d changed in that time.

I looked at her. She seemed older, but she also seemed happier, more satisfied.

"You look well, Doctor Carmichael," I told her.

She actually smiled. "Thank you, Andrew. We had a tough summer, but I think we grew as a result."

I nodded. "It shows."

"I certainly hope training doesn’t dull your intuitive skills," she told me. She handed me some paper, faxes from Europe.

Papi loved the translation -- he admitted his English wasn’t that good. He’d forwarded the French and English versions to the author of the paper I’d referenced, passing along my request to translate his to English. The reply, written to both of us, was very enthusiastic, and positive, and when could he meet me?

I laughed and looked back to Emily, handing her the revised English version.

"I take it the comments were favorable?" she asked.

"Oui. One paper I referenced hasn’t been published in English. I had Papi check with the author, to see if I could translate it for him. He is very interested. I’ll talk to Henri, and see if I can get some credit out of it. What did you think of the draft I sent you? I’ve made some small changes."

She smiled again, a smile I’d not seen from her. "Andrew, this is very good work. The one we did was full of heart. This has heart, and solid content. I’ve noted some small suggestions... Oh, I see you’ve changed that section already.... You must have had a very interesting summer."

"Made possible by you, and by Beth. Papi agreed."

"Are you going to continue your own analysis?"

I nodded. "Oh yes, but I’m not sure if John is the right one anymore. I know Henri certainly isn’t. If you have recommendations, I’d love to hear them. I miss talking to Papi."

"Was he easy on you?"

I laughed. "No! No fifty minute hours with him! After some of our sessions, both of us were wiped out. And you prepared me for those, as well."

I looked to her again. "And Madame Dumay, she has such insight."

She gave me an interesting glance over the tops of her reading glasses, and turned to the paper. We went over her comments. They were insightful. I gave her what I had on the second paper, and we discussed that as well.

We ended by discussing dinner. I proposed curried lamb over rice, steamed vegetables, fruit, and a light white wine. She agreed. I’d be at the house at four to start. I told her I’d bring some of my pictures.

I drove all over the L.A. Basin picking up ingredients. I also stopped at a sporting goods store and got a better pair of running shoes. I went by the condo and picked up my white chef’s coat, pants, hat, and apron. I had three sets, gifts from the Dumonts.

Ben greeted me at the door. He looked and acted like a puppy who had been left alone too long, starved for companionship. We babbled together in French as I got to work in the kitchen. Emily had warned me that he could have a glass of wine before dinner, and two with dinner. I told him I’d been given strict instructions, and he stuck out his lower lip in a pout. Then we both laughed.

Dinner went together well. We had to go out once, to get fresh flowers for the table.

Emily arrived a bit before six. We had a leisurely meal, then sat in the family room and looked over the prints I’d brought. Emily laughed out loud at the picture of Papi washing dishes. I told them the picture captured his spirit -- smiling over his shoulder to the camera -- he was so alive in everything he did.

She sighed and shook her head at the photo of me sitting with Dumay and Rosemarie.

"Andrew, she is somewhat of a, bête noir, you would say."

I would say it a bit differently than she did, but I understood. "Emily, she is an artist. I guess I should display these two together, then?" I held up the one of the three of us along side the one showing Papi and I sitting at a small table, deep in conversation.

Emily nodded. "Do that, and people won’t know what to think, other than you have very good teachers."

"Then I need one of the two of us to complete the set," I told her.

Ben chuckled, and Emily smiled.

I offered to help with the dishes, but they threw me out. I went home and wrote a long letter to Papi. I didn’t get it sent off to him until after midnight.


From the Frying Pan...

I got up early Saturday morning, did my thing, went for a run, then cleaned up and had something to eat. I did one more editing pass as well. I left for Sherry’s house about nine thirty.

One other car was in the driveway when I got there; I decided to park on the street. I was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, with loose swim trunks on underneath. I had a change of clothes in the car, and the chef stuff still. I grabbed my beach towel and headed for the door.

Sherry opened the door and invited me in with a hug. We went into the living room, and she introduced me to two other gals -- Dina and Mic, short for Michelle. Dina had a cute upturned nose and short hair. Mic had longer reddish-brown hair and a cute face. All looked to be wearing two-piece swimsuits under T-shirts. All three were really good looking.

"When does the rest of the crowd get here?" I asked in mock innocence.

Sherry sat down on the couch with her two friends and said, "Oh, not until after noon. I thought we could get started early."

I sat in the chair, draping my towel over the arm. I had a few condoms in my pockets. "What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Oh, we’ve been talking about a few possibilities," Dina said, moving sensuously on the couch.

"I’ve got a suggestion," I said after a few minutes of conversation. I waited until they rose to the bait.

"Have you ever been in an orgasm chair?" I asked them.

Mic and Dina shook their heads. Sherry chuckled. "Oh I have..."

I nodded. "When you sit in my orgasm chair, I can give you a wonderful fulfilling orgasm, just by whispering in your ear." I looked each of them in the eye as I spoke. They looked to be game.

"Well?" Dina asked.

"Mic? Are you interested?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," she said, smiling and looking into my eyes.

"Dina? Sherry?"

All three were ready to go.

"Okay then, the first thing we have to do is get you ready for the chair. I’m not going to touch you without asking you first. I want you to relax back on the couch and listen to me. I’m going to help you relax. Maybe Sherry has told you how I help her relax. That’s how we’re going to start."

I used an induction Madame Dumay taught me -- Papi told me that it was developed by Dave Elman. It took a few minutes to get them to a workable level of trance.

I’d gone down on Sherry plenty of times -- she’d be easy. When I did the chair, I’d use her first, as that would help convince the others.

Sherry was sitting in the middle, with Dina on one side and Mic on the other. I moved over to Dina. "Dina," I whispered in her ear, "have you been eaten to orgasm before?"

I saw her body react before she said, "Oh yeah..."

I whispered, "Good. I want you to think about that, how wonderful it felt, letting each breath you take relax you more and more, until I speak to you again."

I moved over to Mic. "Mic," I whispered, "have you been eaten to orgasm before?"

She frowned a little and whispered, "No."

I took a deeper breath. This was going to be fun.

"Mic, would you like me to eat you to a wonderful, safe, relaxing, creamy, orgasm?"

She smiled and said, "Yes."

I could move her over to the chair and eat her there. That would work.

"Mic, you are so relaxed now, and in a moment I’m going to help you stand up and move you to another chair where you can relax even more. Would you like that?"

"Yes," she said softly.

I moved her gently. As she moved, her bikini bottoms looked a bit damp. Nice.

I whispered between the other two, "Everything you hear, every breath you take, will help you relax more and more, feel better and better, until you feel me touch you on the shoulder."

I went back over to Mic. I started deepening her a little more. When I touched her knee gently, she frowned.

I started questioning, gently. After a few minutes, I moved her again, to Sherry’s bedroom. I looked at my watch -- I could go twenty minutes with her.

I dug a little more, gently. Damn. She’d been abused as a kid, and was being abused by boyfriends. She was afraid to say "no." Deep inside, she was scared -- and scarred.

I did what I could, given the time, to help. I got her full name, address, and phone number. I’d be calling Emily for sure. I got her to relax a little more. For a while, I held her, and she cried. I helped her, reframing and strengthening -- recasting the memories in a new light, a new perspective, supporting and forgiving.

Sexually, she was screwed up as hell. I didn’t have a chance of doing anything with that.

She did trust me -- that’s one of the things she’d gotten from listening to Sherry, and to other girls -- I could be trusted. She’d heard about me protecting Betty, so many months ago.

I told her I would protect her today, and she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do. We put the painful memories in a box where they couldn’t hurt her for a while. They would still be there, but they were memories of long ago. She could look on them with the understanding and strength of an adult now.

I let her rest, and went back out to the living room. There, I was very graphic in leading Sherry and Dina what would happen when they sat in the chair later. I led them through it, and had them coming on the couch. I brought Mic back into the room, then gave them all suggestions to help with studying, and life in general. That would help Mic particularly.

I woke them gently.

"How do you feel?" I asked them.

They all felt great. Mic looked at me intensely and said she felt better than she had in quite a while. Uh oh -- transference with a capital T in that look.

Dina announced, "I’m going for a swim." She stood up and made quite a production out of taking off her shirt. Mic said, "That sounds good. I want to float for a while."

As they headed out, I asked Sherry, "What are we feeding the crowd? How many should be here?"

She put her arms around me. "Oh, people will be bringing things. Want to go for a swim, or?" She wiggled her hips against me.

I wanted to watch Mic for a while. I stepped back and peeled off my shirt, dropped my shorts. Sherry smiled. I picked her up in my arms and she put her arms around my neck.

I walked out to the pool and jumped in, with her in my arms, shirt and all.

Sherry sputtered and screamed. Soon I was wrestling in the water with three very attractive young ladies. I was gentle with Mic, even if they weren’t gentle with me. It turned into a kissing/groping/feeling session, and I didn’t mind one damn bit.

Our fun was interrupted by the doorbell. Sherry untangled enough to yell out, "It’s unlocked, come on back!" Dina took the opportunity to muscle her out of the way and moved into my arms, locking her legs around my waist.

I took a deep breath and went over backwards, dislodging her, and swimming underwater to the other side of the pool, where I got out.

"Charcoal and chips!" someone called out. A guy and a girl came in with bags of goodies. I didn’t know either of them. Sherry introduced me as "her friend Andy."

As more people and food arrived, I gravitated to the kitchen to organize things.

Donna and Greg came in. Donna set a bag of stuff on the counter, smiled at me, and turned to walk away. She took about three steps, and shrieked, "Andy!"

She spun around and ran over to me. "Andy? Is that you?"

I smiled. "Hi Donna, how have you been?"

We hugged. Greg came over and pounded me on the back. They were headed off in a week or so. They’d seen Rachel, and could hardly believe the change in her.

We put together a few platters of munchies. The presentation was pretty good, considering what I had to work with, and the time involved.

I’d put my shirt and shorts back on, and my sandals. I was by the pool having a good time. We heard some male voices hooting and chanting, "Beer! Beer! Beer!" I thought I recognized one of the voices. I took a deep breath.

Three jocks came in, with two kegs of beer. One of the jocks was Mike.

I know I’m supposed to show compassion to all. For some, though, compassion would be a bullet between the eyes -- let ‘em start over on a new turn of the wheel. I hadn’t seen Mike since the Prom, when he was with Sherry. All of a sudden, I had a bad feeling she’d been double-timing both of us the last few days. Yup, the more I thought about it, the more certain of it I was.

Mike is a real asshole. Of course, he comes from a long line of assholes -- his dad is a petty politico. He’s an only child; well, so was I. I guess we’re each fucked up in our own unique way.

The beer was well received. I was drinking white wine -- Chrissy brought two bottles. I was still standing over to one side with her, Greg, and Donna.

Mike had quite obviously started drinking earlier. I was trying not to listen to him. It was hard.

Then he bellowed out, "Where’s that wuss Wilson? Somebody said he’d be here. Probably sucking someone off." The group around him laughed.

I smiled and took a step toward him. Greg put a hand on my arm.

"It’s okay, Greg. I can handle this," I said as I stepped by.

Mile was going on about "that pussy eater Wilson," when I said loudly, "I’m right here, Mikey."

He turned around in surprise. He gave me a fake smile and handed his beer to one of his buddies. "Who the fuck invited you here, asshole?" he shouted, stepping closer. He was trying to be intimidating, but was just offensive.

Feet hip-width apart, relax the knees, wait for it.... "Sherry invited me, Mikey. The name is Wilson."

He yelled something and took a swing at me. Thank you, Bernard. I blocked with my left as I hit him in the gut with my right, sweeping his feet out from under him in one motion. I held on to his right arm momentarily with my left hand to keep his brainless head from hitting the concrete too hard. I let go of him and took two steps back.

"Want to try again, Mikey?" I asked. I’d knocked the wind out of him. He struggled to his knees. I was clear on my left side, with the pool on my right. He might go for a swim. People cleared out around us. I saw Sherry, sitting in a chair with a beer, smiling. She didn’t move. She glanced at me, then glanced away. That answered my questions.

Mike took a dive for me, trying to grab me around the waist. I took his outstretched hand and took him down with an arm bar, putting pressure on his elbow and wrist.

"You’re breaking my arm!" he yelled.

"Wrong as usual, Mikey," I told him. "I’m breaking your elbow and wrist. It’s good to see you again, Mikey. And now that I’ve seen you, I’ll be leaving. Enjoy the party." I gave his arm an extra twist before releasing it and stepping back to the side.

Bernard was a superb instructor. You don’t release a belligerent and step to the side -- unless you want to take the extra chance, and possibly get in another lick. I wanted the chance.

And Mike made a grab for me, coming up just enough so I could kick him hard in the chest, sending him backwards into the pool.

I walked by his cronies. I was ready to break bones if I was touched. Nobody touched me.

"Bye, Sherry, thanks for everything," I called out as I walked by her.

Mic was standing in the kitchen, talking to a couple of kids. She saw me and practically rushed to my side. While she was forcing a smile, other parts of her radiated terror.

"I don’t think this is a safe place for you," I said. "Want me to take you home?"

"Yes, please. Let’s go."

I took her arm in mine. "Should we tell Dina?" I asked.

"She doesn’t give a shit," she said coldly.

I heard Mike bellowing again, about what he was going to do when he caught me.

"One moment," I told Mic. I stepped back outside.

"I’m still here, Mikey. What do you want?" I called out.

People cleared from between us.

"Is this what you wanted, Sherry?" I said as I stepped past her.

"I’m not running, Mikey. I’m right here."

I was taking a chance. I wasn’t going to run, not from the likes of him, not anymore.

As he approached, he grabbed the big barbecue fork from a tray and lunged at me with it. I blocked and took his arm, stepping to the side. I put my knee into his stomach, giving it everything I had, lifting him off the ground before I dropped him once more. I took the fork from his hand.

I contemplated ramming it up his ass, pointy part first. Instead, I tossed it on a table, then quickly and somewhat roughly sat him up. He cringed a little.

"Mikey," I told him, "I’d much rather be friends. We still can be." He flinched as I stood up. I waved to Greg and Donna, gathered Mic, and headed to the car.

She started crying as we drove off. I stopped a block or so away, parked, and held her. I did more reframing, helping the scared and hurt little kid hiding inside. I wish I knew a better way -- but the only way out is through. You can only postpone for so long.

I got her sitting up and we headed off again. I asked her for her address, even though I knew it already, mainly to give her something she could respond to, get her talking again.

I knew she felt the place she was living was safe. But when she told me she was living with an aunt, it knocked the breath out of me. I put a hand on her shoulder, and told her she was safe, talking as much to comfort and console the little kid inside me, the little kid who had gone through such hell a year ago.

Her aunt wasn’t home. I saw her inside.

I sat in the car, breathing and clearing my head. What a trip. I needed to talk to Emily. I looked at my watch -- not even one in the afternoon!

I picked up the note from the visor, where I'd put it previously. Looks like I would make the party. I called Mrs. Hsiu, the hostess for the gathering.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Mrs. Hsiu? This is Andy Wilson calling. I’ll be at the party tonight, and wanted to know what I should bring."

I heard an exasperated sigh. "Oh, bring whatever you’d like, I don’t know."

Today was the day, I guessed. "Mrs. Hsiu, what can I help with? Please, tell me."

That flipped her switch. She babbled about not knowing what to do, being unprepared for so many guests, and her husband and daughter wouldn’t be back until almost five, and...

"Mrs. Hsiu, stop for a moment," I interrupted. "Mrs. Hsiu, I want you to take a deep breath and try and relax for me. Everything is going to work out just fine."

She babbled a bit more, until I interrupted again.

"Mrs. Hsiu, don’t worry. I spent the summer as a chef in a chateau in France. We will put on a superb party. Now, how many people do you expect to be there? How many definitely, and how many maybes?"

A dozen to fourteen certain, up to twenty or so max. Okay, we can handle that. How, she wanted to know. I told her to relax, I’d be there within an hour. Any vegetarians in the group? Not that she knew of. Are people bringing things? After some coaxing, she admitted she didn’t know.

I thought for a bit, running through recipes. What would she like, ideally? Something light to have around the pool as people talked and got to know each other. Okay, we can do that. Did she have a rice cooker? Yes, she did. Okay, I need eight cooked cups of white rice ready in about an hour and a half. Could she do that? Yes, she could. Okay then, start that, then sit down and relax. Do you have tables and chairs for people? Some chairs yes, tables, no -- should she... Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you in about an hour or so.

I hung up, took a deep breath, and headed off, smiling. This was my kind of disaster! I hit the speed-dial for Ben’s place. He answered.

"Ben, is Emily home?"

"Yes, why?"

"Ben, I need your help, and hers. I need two long folding tables, eight chairs, cloths, two dozen wine glasses, lets see... Eight bottles of champagne, eight white, and eight red, nothing fancy. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"Yes sir!" he said.

I laughed. "Thanks, Ben. I’m putting out a fire, in case you haven’t guessed. And I really will need to talk to Emily as well."

"Andy, we’ll have things ready when you get here."

"Let me pull the tables and chairs out!" I told him.

He laughed. "Don’t worry. See you soon."

We hung up. From the dinner they’d had for Rachel and me, I knew they had the things I’d need to pull this off. I hoped my favorite produce stand had a good selection still.

I backed into the driveway. Ben and Emily had boxes of glasses ready to go, and coolers loaded with ice and the white wine and champagne. The red was in a box. I loaded that while telling them of the dinner.

I pulled two long folding tables from the garage and tied them to the rack on the Volvo. Ben asked what I was going to cook. I was still making it up as I went, but I knew I was going to do a Coronation Chicken Salad -- that has chicken, rice, raisins, and curry. Whatever veggies I could find, fruit, something else.

With the tables secured and the chairs in back, I took a breath.

"Okay, thanks Ben. Now I need to talk to Emily."

He pulled out his wallet and gave me some money, then a hug, and went back into the house.

"What is it, Andrew?" Emily asked.

I sighed. I looked around for a place to sit. She understood, and we went back to her office. She closed the door and we sat down.

"Emily, I played God today, and I need your help. I found someone who needs help."

I described in great detail meeting the girls, what I’d planned, and what I’d discovered with Mic. I closed my eyes and relived those difficult moments, working with her. I told her how I’d felt when Mic told me she was living with her aunt -- my voice was ragged through that. I gave her name, address, phone number. I opened my eyes again. "Emily, I hope you can help. She needs help, and is so screwed up she doesn’t know it."

Emily put down her pen and note pad. She stood up. So did I. She walked around her desk and took my hands.

"Andrew, I will take it from here. I will tell you that while I don’t agree with your initial motivations, what you did afterwards was most responsible. I think you understand better the troubles you may encounter in these recreational jaunts."

"Thank you, Doctor. Madame Dumay drilled that into me, week after week. Let me know how I can be of assistance."

She actually gave me a hug. I thanked her again, and thanked Ben on the way out.

Thank God Ben gave me some money. I figured on sixteen to eighteen, and bought what I’d need, not assuming much of anything. The produce stand even had things that Grand-mère might find barely acceptable -- she’d serve them to Brits and Belgians, anyway.

I pulled into the Hsiu’s driveway a little after two. They had a nice house in the hills, almost in Palos Verdes. It had a wonderful performance kitchen, with a huge Wolf range, lots of pots and pans, and all of it unused, save for the electric rice cooker, a wok, and a few utensils.

I set up the tables and chairs outside by the pool. I cringed a little -- I’d been at a poolside party a few hours ago. God, it seemed to be days ago! I’d been through a couple of major crises since then!

I felt better with my chef’s outfit on, even the white pants, putting my shorts in my clothes bag. As I put on the clothes, I put on the role, the persona. I know I am more than the roles I play, but sometimes, those roles are supportive, even grounding. I got to work in the kitchen. We started getting more calls from people asking what to bring. Soon I was answering the phone, coordinating. I managed to leave a message for Beth to please join us if she could, Roger as well. I knew that inside me was a little kid, still quite frightened and upset.

I took a break and sat our hostess down in a chair. She’d already acquiesced completely to me in the kitchen. Let’s see if we can use that to help her. "Miriam, close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath for me," I said as I held her hands. I spent about five minutes getting her to settle down and relax. Her daughter was shopping, and picking up her husband at the airport. I think I convinced her we were going to pull this off.

The coronation chicken was going to be my central dish. Miriam helped clean veggies and the fruit. I did most of the cutting; I was faster and knew what I wanted.

About three thirty one woman called. With a slight French accent, she asked if she could help. I lapsed into French and told her what I needed now was more hands! We conversed for a bit -- she would be over shortly with her two daughters. Oh, I could use two pounds of linguini as well, a few heads of garlic.

Celeste, Hanna, and Gail were saviors. All three spoke French, and soon I was ordering everyone about, as if I were back at the chateau. At least here I didn’t have to worry about Grand-mère pulling my ear, or taking a spoon from my hand -- and whacking me with it.

I was going to stir-fry the veggies and do some pepper beef. Miriam offered to get some shrimp -- would I like that? Yes! Two pounds, cooked, medium size. She took off.

With things scheduled to start at five, I figured people would arrive starting around five fifteen. Celeste, the mom, arranged glasses and the plastic plates and utensils I’d brought. Hanna, who was off to Stanford, took care of the noodles while her younger sister Gail peeled shrimp. Miriam was starting to fret again, and I was the madman waving the wooden spoon and carrying on in French.

I remembered Bernard’s counsel to me -- an officer is never in a hurry, never rushed -- if he is, his men will do the same. Always project calm and control. I stopped and had a tall glass of cold water.

I took my wooden spoon, my ceremonial mace, and banged the side of the noodle pot until the others turned to see what the hell I was doing.

I sang a couple of verses of a marching song Bernard had taught us -- it was pretty innocuous. Gail and Hanna picked up on the refrain, and as I continued, so did Celeste, with a big grin on her face. Even Miriam started more or less humming along.

"Tres Bon!" I called out. "Five minute break. Everyone outside -- walk around. We’re doing very well." I herded them out, waving my arms. I’m sure they thought I was mad.

We took our break, then went back to it. I focused on calm and methodical. Thank you, Bernard. Thank you, Grand-mère -- she had also taught me not to be rushed.

Things came together well. We had a damn fine spread, with a mix of finger foods and sit-down stuff. I was wishing I’d brought the camera when a flash went off.

I looked up. Beth was there, with Roger. She had my digital camera, and he had a 35mm film camera. I gathered my adopted cooking staff around me and we all posed for the cameras, the madman in the middle. I still had the fruit salad to finish!

More people arrived, parents with kids who would be heading to Stanford. I hadn’t done anything for nametags!

Everything was ready to go. I looked to Miriam and asked if she was ready for champagne. She looked at me puzzled, and I asked her again in English.

I rounded up my serving crew, and had them start herding people outside. Celeste and I opened and poured champagne. We got another picture, this time with the platters on the serving tables outside.

We handed out glasses. I took one. I needed it.

And into this chaos walked an angel. Is that overdramatic? I think not. Time certainly shifted for me. Out onto the patio stepped a harried looking oriental man, someone who’d undoubtedly just gotten off an airplane. Behind him was a tall, stunning, oriental beauty, Janice.

I picked up another glass and took it to her. I welcomed her in French, then English, then handed her the glass. I looked into her beautiful brown eyes and said, "To Stanford!"

She smiled. What a smile! I raised my glass to hers, then took a sip.

"Andy?"

I turned to see who had called me. Beth was standing next to Miriam; both were laughing. Roger had a smile on his face as well.

Beth said, "Andy, would you like to describe the dishes, while they’re still so beautiful?"

I took Janice’s hand and led her to the serving tables. I described the dishes in some detail, handed her a plate, then announced to all, "Bon Apetit!"

I served her, and the others. I opened wine, and once again Hanna stepped in to help.

I wandered through the crowd -- we had twenty -- helping, pouring.

At some lull, we started around the crowd with introductions. I remember one in particular.

"I’m Janice Hsiu, and I’m going to Stanford, where my parents met, to study math and electrical engineering." She smiled to me and raised her glass. I think some of the others may have laughed.

I thought the intros were done.

Beth’s voice rang out. "And last, our chef for tonight, who spent the summer as chef for an exclusive chateau in the French countryside, will also be going to Stanford. Andy, can you talk? In English?"

After the laughter and applause died out, I could. "Thank you. I’m Andy Wilson. Thanks to many people, I’ll be studying psychology, with a math minor." I looked to Janice again. Someone called out, "To the chef!" I bowed to more applause, including Janice’s.

I started to wander with wine bottles again, but Celeste took them from me. "Sit down, eat, and enjoy yourself!" she told me.

I took off my hat. My head was sweaty, no surprise. I sat down at a small table next to the pool. Janice appeared with a plate for me, and sat down.

She laughed. "Mother says you saved her life. I’m so glad you are here!"

"So am I," I told her, lost in her eyes.

I ate and we talked. Her mom was a research mathematician at a local aerospace contractor. Her dad was an engineering vice president at another place. She had an older brother at Cornell.

When I told her I had a girlfriend at Cornell, she frowned and said, "You have a girlfriend?"

I guess my mind and face went blank for a moment when I realized what I’d said. She laughed and put a soft hand on mine.

"Are you really doing a minor in math?" she asked, head tilted a bit.

I nodded. The shrimp was good -- I’d gone easy on the spices out of respect for others. Garlic isn’t a spice -- it’s a vitamin, and I’d used plenty.

"Yes. Up to last year, I would have been a math/engineering major as well."

We talked some more. The crowd started winding down. I heard people congratulating Miriam on a wonderful evening. Many of them thanked me as well.

I thanked Celeste, Hanna, and Gail. Hanna seemed a bit miffed at something. I turned around and saw Beth loading wine glasses back into boxes. I stepped over to her.

"Where’s Roger?" I asked.

Without looking up, she said, "Where do you expect? I assumed you’d give me a ride."

Her voice was a knife plunging into me. I rested my hand on her back. "Of course."

After a while, I got to sit again, with a glass of ice water.

"One more picture!" someone called.

I stood up. Beth, Celeste, and Miriam had the cameras. I was directed to the edge of the pool. Hanna and Gail stood on one side of me, and to my joy, Janice stood on the other.

"One, two, three!" Flashes winked in our faces.

"Four!" called Hanna, and I was pushed into the pool.

I took them with me, or they jumped in, I’m not sure. It felt grand. I was hot and sweaty, and the water was very refreshing.

I had another twinge as someone pulled me under the water. Ten hours ago?

They grabbed me, and I grabbed back. I got one arm around Hanna, and the other around Janice, and went over backwards.

Eventually towels appeared, and we got out. My hat had been fished out of the water already. I took off my top and dried some more. Did I hear giggling?

Beth walked up to me, still laughing a little. "Your clothes are in the guest room down the hall to the left."

I dried off as well as I could, then went in to change.

The dip in the pool had helped. I felt a lot better. I rejoined the crowd by the pool. We now totaled eight. Janice had changed, and was sitting a ways from me, combing out her hair. I sighed as I watched her. Then I heard Beth laugh.

I started laughing as well. Was I that gobsmacked? I guess so. I turned to Beth and smiled. She shook her head, smiling.

Mr. Hsiu asked, "Can I help you with the tables?" They were folded up, as were the cloths and the chairs, glasses all boxed and debris cleaned away.

I looked to Beth, and then to Janice. She smiled, almost giggling.

"It’s pretty late. I thought I could pick them up tomorrow."

Janice gave me a questioning look.

"When I come to pick you up for brunch?" I suggested.

Is it deliberate, when a woman laughs, letting her head go back, exposing a delicious expanse of neck? Does she do that consciously, knowing what it does to a man, or is it something wired into females as deeply as the response it generates is in males?

After she laughed, she looked at me again, and said, "Not tomorrow."

I suppressed a sigh, and thought I heard a grumbling noise from where Hanna was sitting.

"But I’m free Monday," Janice added.

I smiled. "I should load them up tonight then. When Monday?"

"I was going to go for a run Monday morning..."

"When?"

"Oh, say, nine?"

"I’ll be here."

Mr. Hsiu helped me with the chairs, tables and the boxes of glasses.

Beth and I finally left, after parting hugs. Miriam and her husband thanked me again for all the help. I got a soft hug from Janice. Hanna was more enthusiastic about hers, kissing me on the ear.

About half a block away, Beth burst into laughter, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Was I that bad?" I asked her.

"Andy, you were priceless! I wish I’d been holding the camera to catch the look on your face the first time you saw that girl!"

"But what was the look on her face?"

"Ah, that would be telling.... Andy, you put on quite a performance tonight."

"It’s been a hell of a day," I sighed.

She prodded, and I told her about the morning. I hadn’t told Emily about the fight with Mike.

She held my shoulder. I hadn’t told her what Emily had said.

"Andy, I don’t know how such a mess could have been handled better."

"Thank you, Mistress. And how are you feeling?"

She sighed and squeezed my shoulder. "Oh, Andy.... I don’t know. His work is so important to him. He’s saving lives."

"Would you like me to have another non-talk with him?" I offered.

She sighed again. "Not yet. Let’s see how it goes. I need to adjust to it."

"Really?" That’s all I said. We were silent for a while, until she started giving me directions. They were in a nice place just off Huntington Beach. I dropped her off; she gave me a hug.

"Thank you again, Beth. You’ve saved my life more than once." I told her, leaving unspoken but understood my offer to do anything for her.

I drove back to the condo, put the car in the garage, dumped my wet things into the wash, and crashed on the bed.

End of Part 14
Rev 2006/01/20


Growing Up With Beth -- Part 14
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www
© Copyright 2000 by silli_artie@hotmail.com

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Thanks! artie