Catch of a Lifetime

"As long as you let me," I told her.

We wiggled around and got the covers over us. She snuggled back up into my arms and in ten minutes her eyes closed and she was gone. I stayed awake for a while, just reveling in the feel of the naked angel in my arms. I watched her sleep, the moonlight playing over her gorgeous features, feeling my heart swelling with the powerful emotions she stirred in me. They were emotions that I thought I'd likely never feel again. I wondered what Cybill would have thought of Dara. I was pretty sure she would have loved her. I knew I did. I kissed her forehead and drifted off, holding her close as wonderful dreams filled my mind.

That was the beginning of something that grew and became my life. Dara practically lived with me through the summer until school started again. I saw less of her as she focused on her classwork, but every weekend we went somewhere or just stayed in and made love. I was more in love with her every day. She was mine and she never hesitated to let me know. She was very demonstrative with her feelings and I could tell my feeling were also hers.

There were plenty of tears the day Dara left for medical school. We had found an apartment near campus for her, and most of her stuff was already moved in. All that was in her car was a suitcase with clothes, her computer and her daily essentials. She clung to me just as hungrily as she had on the day I pulled her from the river.

"You can do this, Babe," I reassured her, tenderly stroking her hair. "Just don't forget about me."

"Never, Canyon. Don't even think it. As long as I'm breathing, I'm thinking of you."

"Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too."

I finally got her seated in the car, and Julia and I watched it recede in the distance.

Dara planned to come home every other weekend. I had known that after spending almost the entire summer together, going without her for two weeks would be hard. I had no idea. The two weeks before her first weekend home felt like two years. I spent some time with Julia; she was having a rough time, too, as she was alone now and still mourning Kara. It made the time pass, and I think it helped her, but the one person who could help me was Dara, and she wasn't there.

There was no more doubt about what I wanted: I wanted Dara, and I wanted her for the rest of my life. The bad thing was I began to doubt what she wanted, or would come to want. She was ten years younger than I was. She was beautiful, driven, top-of-her-class intelligent, and was spending her days in intensive work with a group of men who were all of that, and nearer her age. What did I have to offer her, to compete with them?

We had agreed to daily phone calls, but once classes started, Dara said it was too much. "They're trying to kill us with work here," she told me. "They even admitted it. They told us they would try to break us, because if we're going to break, it's better that we do it now rather than later when we could kill someone. They also said they wanted to put pressure on our relationships, because that would happen, once we graduated, too. I think they're lying. I think what they really want is for us to be miserable and monkish, like those medieval guys."

"Miserable and monkish? That's pretty much how I feel," I said. "Don't you want to share my pain?"

"Ha! I don't have time to feel anything. I haven't even had time to get groceries since classes started. I'm glad you made me stock up beforehand. Canyon, love, if I thought I could bear to call you and hang up after five minutes, I could call every day, but I just can't. Please, let's make an appointment, so we can really have some time?"

We agreed on that, with the proviso that if I got desperate I could call her, too, even though it would go to voice mail.

Friday evening finally came. I was doing anything I could think of to avoid looking like I had been sitting on my front porch, waiting for her for hours and failing miserably. I heard a car throwing gravel in my driveway, the slamming of a door and a voice crying "Canyon!" I saw a blur with long blonde hair trailing behind it, and then something slammed into me, knocking me to the ground and landing on top of me. I'm a lot bigger than Dara, but you have to remember that force is the mass times the square of the velocity.

Well, for the next several minutes we rolled around on the grass, crying, laughing, saying each other's names and generally making fools of ourselves. There was nothing and no one else in the world, and we weren't letting each other go for anything.

After we caught our breath, I took a good look at her. With her damp eyes, crooked smile, and tangled hair, she was more than ever the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. (Sorry, Cybill, if you're listening; I have to tell the truth.) When I looked closely, though, I could see signs of the strain she was under: the beginnings of circles under her eyes, and a thinness in her face.

Dara hadn't been kidding about the rigors of med school. She started yawning at 9:00, a ridiculously early hour for her. I was fine with that; I'd been aching for the next time I'd have Dara in my bed. The only problem was, she was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, with only a mumbled "love you, Canyon." I watched her sleep, thinking again how lucky I was. My cock was thinking something else.

I had planned all sorts of things I thought she would enjoy for our weekend together. Hardly any of them happened. In addition to needing to catch up on her sleep, she had to study, a lot. Before I knew it, it was Sunday evening and I was watching her taillights disappear down the road. At least she had some groceries; I had seen to that.

Dara called me Monday evening. She was pleased and proud of herself. Where most of her classmates were sleep-deprived and ill prepared for the surprise examination (no pop quiz, this: it took three hours), she was fresh, bright-eyed, and prepared after her weekend with me. "I have Canyon, and they don't," she gloated.

The next few weekends were a repeat of the first one, except Dara's greetings became slightly more restrained. She caught up on her sleep, visited Julia, and studied in the little study room I'd fixed up for her. I didn't hear much about what she did at school. I could tell she was feeling the strain, but that only increased her determination to succeed. Over a dozen of her classmates had already dropped out, she said.

Dara got a four-day weekend for Thanksgiving. She decided she wanted to spend Thursday and Friday with her mom, and Saturday and Sunday with me. I had been hoping for more, but Julia missed her just as much as I did, especially with Kara gone, so I didn't have the heart to argue. I even made most of the dinner and brought it over, so they wouldn't have to cook. Both of them liked my barbecue, so I barbecued the turkey, which went over quite well.

Dara came over Saturday, and went straight to her study room. "I swear, these people can't even spell the word 'holiday'," she groused. "Every single teacher said 'You'll have a long weekend, so you can read this, and this, and this'."

She dumped her books and laptop on the table, and turned to me. "Canyon, this study room you made me is a lifesaver. It's the best place in the world for study, better than my apartment or the library. Thank you, Canyon!" She pressed herself against me and gave me a toe-curling kiss. She pirouetted away from me and into the room, pointing to the wall above the desk.

"See, you're right here with me even when I'm studying." Sure enough, there I was in all my glory (?), dapper (???) in my fishing gear, but with all my love in my eyes. She'd taken the picture on one of our "see what we can catch for dinner" expeditions the previous summer; I didn't know she'd had it blown up and framed.

"Now I have to get to work. These books won't read themselves," she said, obviously quoting one of her teachers, and closed the study door. She must have gotten herself sandwiches; I didn't see her again until bedtime.

She finally emerged Sunday afternoon, a couple of hours before she was to head back to school. I had done grocery shopping for her while she studied, and packaged plenty of leftover turkey for her. ("Everyone will have turkey leftovers, but they won't be barbecued like this. They'll all be jealous," she had said.)

"Want to go for a walk?" I asked. She had always liked our long walks and I thought it would be a nice memory for her to take back to school.

"No, thanks, I think I'd just rather sit here with you. My energy is sort of low right now."

I finally snapped. "When is Dara coming back?" She turned to me, her eyes wide. "Every time you've come home, I've planned something we could enjoy doing together: walking in the woods as the leaves turned, fishing in the creek, a concert I'd thought you would enjoy. None of it has happened. You've studied and slept, or slept and studied. You've barely had the energy for sex. I want to know: when does this end?"

I saw tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Canyon. I knew this would be hard for both of us, but I had no idea how hard it would be. It's just as hard for me. I didn't know about the things you'd planned, but I should have, because I know you, and that's what you would do. Babe, I have to do this. It's something I wanted before we met. When you saved my life, it became even more important. Now, my life really had to count for something, because I was saved for a purpose. Can't you see? It has to be that way. I couldn't live with myself otherwise. To answer your question, I think the first year is the hardest, while they're trying to weed us out, so it should slack off some after that. I don't know, though. It could be like this all four years. Can you handle that?"

"Dara, I've barely made it through three months. I live for the next time you come home, and then we barely exchange five sentences before you have to leave. I don't know who your teachers are, what classes you like or don't like, who you spend your time with, anything."

"There's no time to spend with anyone. Yes, the first year students are together a lot, we're all in the same classes, and we're all looking for the same stuff in the library. I don't even know the names of the cute guys in the class." She chuckled. I didn't share her amusement.

"Yeah, but I bet they know yours," I muttered.

"Canyon, don't be this way. You know, you're reacting like a child whose cookie has been taken away."

"Is that all you think you mean to me, Dara? A cookie?"

"Well, maybe more like a barbecued turkey. The point is, you're not being fair, Canyon. You already have your degree, your life path. I don't. I need to do this, and you need to let me. If you can't handle that, maybe we don't have as much together as I thought we did."

Things went downhill fast from there, and ended with her running into the study and slamming the door. I could hear her crying in there. I wasn't any better in the living room, as I tried to figure out how to live without Dara. It was clear the only choice I had was whether we were separated temporarily or permanently, and I wasn't sure that I even had that choice. I slumped forward in the chair and buried my head in my hands.

I felt a feather-light hand on my shoulder. "We've had our first fight, haven't we?" I looked up at her. She stood next to my chair, utterly forlorn, her face streaked with tears. I gathered her onto my lap, held her close and we cried together. When we were calm, she spoke.

"Am I worth it to you, Canyon? Can you do this for me?"

I gazed into my bleak future: three and a half more years, effectively without Dara, and who knew whether she would still want me after that? God knows she would have choices. Still, when this was finished, she might come back to me. Was that possibility worth it?

"I don't know, Dara. You're worth it, you're worth anything I can do, but I don't know if I'm strong enough. All I can tell you is that I'll try."

"You were strong enough to pull me from the river, Canyon. I'm betting on you. I'm betting the life you saved on you." We held each other quietly until it was time for her to go.

Medical schools don't run on the same schedules as the rest of the University. Dara only got a week and a half off for Christmas, and would have first semester finals less than a week after she got back. I anticipated the worst, but I was pleasantly surprised. She had worked like a dog, she said, and she was far enough ahead that we could take some time for ourselves. We didn't do anything fancy: we drove around to look at Christmas lights, took long walks in the snowy woods and went to concerts of Christmas music by local choirs. We talked. Finally, we had time to talk to our hearts' content, about school, profs, everything. She assured me she was so busy she didn't have time to think about a social life, though she did know the names of the cute guys now. I began to think that yes, I could do this after all.

We agreed that the two days after New Year's would be Dara's catch-up study time before she went back. "The medical term is managing your withdrawal," she informed me brightly.

"More like easing the sucker into it, or out of it," I muttered after the door closed behind her. I guess it depended on how you looked at it.

Dara's second semester was even worse than her first. By the end of February, she'd canceled two of her four weekends at home. She sounded tired and drawn on the phone when we talked, which was seldom: maybe half an hour a week. She even snapped at me when I asked if she was eating right, saying she didn't have time for gourmet cooking. I worried: Dara was burning a lot of energy, and that little body had no stored-up fat whatsoever.

That gave me an idea. We had scheduled a phone call for 7:00 on a Tuesday night. I specifically asked if she would be at home then. She was a little snippy and wanted to know why that mattered, but humored me and said yes, she would be home. I started my plan early that day, barbecuing a brisket in the smoker just as she liked it. That afternoon, I shopped for greens and staples, and made the sides. I made enough to feed Dara for about three weeks. At 5:00, everything was ready, loaded into my truck and I headed for her apartment.

At five to seven, the table was set with my good china and silver (from my parents, not Cybill) and candles. The salads were on the table, the wine was open and breathing and the brisket and sides were keeping warm in the oven. I had divided the rest of the brisket and sides into two-meal sized portions, labeled them, and put them into the freezer. I was ready.

Seven o'clock came and no Dara. 8:00, 9:00, the same. No phone call, either: my cell was with me, and it was the only phone I had. At 9:30, I gave up. I took a picture of the table, and then cleared it. The salads, now limp and disgusting, went into the garbage. The wine had been open too long; down the drain with it, just like the rest of the evening. I packaged the brisket and sides and put them in the refrigerator. I printed my picture on Dara's printer, put it in the middle of the table and blew out the candles.

I was almost finished drying the dishes when I heard the key in the lock. It was almost 10:00. I heard Dara's laugh, joined by a masculine chuckle. Dara's apartment had a little entryway with coat pegs, angled so that if you were standing in it, you couldn't see the rest of the apartment. They didn't know anyone else was there.

"That was awesome! I so needed that," I heard Dara say, still laughing.

"So did everyone else, I think," the masculine voice replied, also chuckling. "He's been asking for that since the beginning of the term; if I hadn't given it to him, someone else would."

"Yes, but I still think you were awfully clever to think of doing it that way. I hope you don't get in trouble."

"Don't worry; it was worth it to see you laugh. Besides, if I keep my grades up, there's nothing he can do. You'll help me do that, won't you?" Her reply was too soft to hear. I heard footsteps, then his voice.

"Umm, Dara..." I heard lighter footsteps, then a gasp, and "Oh, crap," from Dara. I made my entrance from the kitchen, a towel over my shoulder and the last of the plates in my left hand. Dara was staring at the picture on the table. I walked up to the man and extended my hand.

"I'm Canyon," I said.

"Brick," He replied, shaking hands. "I'm in Dara's class. She's told me a lot about you." We sized each other up, the way guys do. He was ruggedly handsome, I guess you'd say, and he had two or three inches on me, but we weighed about the same. His hands were huge, but he surprised me by not testing my grip.

Dara turned to face me. "Canyon, this isn't what..."

"Save it. I'm not in the mood for clichés. If you'll excuse me, I'll finish cleaning up. I want to leave your kitchen as I found it."

I went to the little kitchen, finished drying, and packed everything away. Dara and Brick were talking, too low for me to hear. I had stashed my coat in a corner of the kitchen. I'd put it there so she wouldn't see it on the coat peg and spoil the surprise. I'd parked away down the block, too. I put my coat on and collected the candles from the table. Brick looked awkward.

"I think I should go," he mumbled, heading for the door. "Good to meet you, Canyon. Dara, I'll see you tomorrow." He was gone, after a meaningful look at Dara. It wasn't directed at me, but I read its meaning and was not pleased.

"Canyon, please don't go. We need to talk. This isn't..."

"You need to study, and if I stay, I'll probably say something we'll both regret later. The brisket and sides are in the fridge; there are packages of both in the freezer. The other groceries are put away. You should have enough to last you a couple or three weeks until you come home. I'll see you then." I turned to go.

"Canyon, I'm sorry. I love you." Her voice was soft but intense. I felt like looking her in the eye, and asking "Enough?" Instead, I tossed an "I love you, too" over my shoulder, and carried my basket and my heavy heart out into the cold night.

I turned my cell phone off. I meant what I said about not wanting to say anything un-fixable. I intended to leave it for a day while I thought through things.

Dara and I weren't married. We weren't even engaged. I knew I was more in love with her than I had ever been with Cybill, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her. I had thought she felt the same way. When it came down to it, what had happened tonight to indicate anything different? She forgot that she was going to call me, and she was with a guy in her class that she liked. That's all.

So why was I feeling as if she'd, well, cheated on me? Was it because my cookie, the surprise fancy dinner we were supposed to share, had taken away from me? I could tell Brick wanted Dara, and would take her if he got the chance. Would he get the chance? That was the question, wasn't it?

I went to work the next day with my phone still turned off. When I got home, Julia was on my doorstep. "There are some things you need to know," she said, "and your cell was turned off. They're important enough I came here to tell you."

It turned out that Julia had heard about Brick before. Shortly after New Year's, Dara had slipped and fallen into the street, knocking the wind out of her, and Brick had carried her to safety. He had worked as an EMT before starting med school, so, like Dara; he was slightly older than the class average. Dara said he had very gentle hands. As he checked her over, Dara had kept repeating "Canyon! Canyon!" which didn't make any sense to Brick, so he had wanted to take her to the ER. She talked him out of it.

She was grateful enough to have him in for coffee. He seemed like a nice guy, and they had most of the same lab sessions, so they became study buddies. Dara said she didn't know how far Brick wanted to go, but she wasn't about to give him anything. (Of course, that's what she would tell her mother, I reasoned.)