Catch of a Lifetime

That Tuesday night, the most obnoxious of their teachers had called a special mandatory study session from 6:30 to 9:30. Late in the session, Brick had caught the teacher out in a wrong answer and made him look foolish. That's what he and Dara were laughing about when they came in her door.

Julia also said Dara was nearly frantic, and was desperate for me to call her and tell her we would be okay. I thought about it after Julia left, and I wasn't quite so sure. Brick had walked Dara home; that was fine. She hadn't asked him into her apartment, though; they both just assumed he was coming in, and he had led the way into the apartment. How had he gotten to be so at home there?

I had turned on my phone and cleaned out the messages (14 from Dara, 2 from Julia), when I received a call from an unknown number. I answered and got a surprise.

"This is Brick. I know I'm not the person you most want to talk to right now, but there are some things you need to know." Why was everyone telling me that?

"First, Dara loves you. I can tell from the look in her eye when she talks about you, and she talks about you a lot, that she's totally in love with you. I would never try to take her away from you. For one thing, I don't want her that way, and for another, I would fail. However, I do want to have sex with her, soon and often, and at that, I think I'll succeed."

"Why tell me?" I asked. "Are you asking my permission or do you just have a death wish?"

"Look, you guys aren't married; you aren't even engaged. What would it really cost you if she had sex with me? If after she finished med school, she was faithful to you, as I know she intends to be?"

"Listen, asshole," I said. The question you should be asking yourself is what it would cost you. It would cost Dara everything. Are you the kind of dipshit that will mess up that girl's life permanently just to get your dick wet?"

"Sir, if I had sex with her now, she'd be terribly conflicted, thinking she had betrayed you. She wouldn't have, because she would still love only you, but that's how she would feel. If you could somehow let her know that, well, it wouldn't mean the end of you two if she had some fun and blew off some steam with someone else..."

Where do these idiots come up with the idea that sex with other people's partners is "Fun" and "blowing off some steam?" "It would grease the skids for you, wouldn't it?" I was growling at him now. Nice guy, indeed.

"Well, yes, I admit it would."

"I thought you first year students were too busy to have a social life," I said.

Brick seemed to consider his answer seriously for a moment. "That's true, of course. We sure don't have time for dates: nice dinners, movies, and so on. That dinner you made for Dara smelled great, by the way. She's sorry for the mix-up. Did she tell you what happened?"

"I know what happened. I don't give a damn. This conversation is over."

"Wait," he said, "It's true we're too swamped to date, but there's more to it than that. One of the doctors who recommended me told me I would always remember my med school classmates, because we were in the same foxhole. I didn't understand then, but I do now. The teachers are trying to weed us out, kill us, as it were. We're all under fire together, and it creates a bond between us. The other thing is the pressure. In addition to the time pressure, there's the pressure not to flunk out, the pressure to get good enough grades to get a top job. The teachers add to the pressure too, intentionally. By the middle of the semester, we're all desperate to blow off steam. The time-honored, and still the best, way to do it is sex. We don't have time to go looking for it, so we do it with the people we spend all our time with, the people we've bonded with: our classmates. I don't think Dara has done it yet, but I'm sure she will. We're not even a year in, and there are four years. She'll give in to the pressure eventually: both the pressure of school and the pressure from the guys because she's the best-looking girl in the class. Pretty much everyone else has given in already. We have six decent looking married women in the class, and they've all done it."

"They've cheated on their husbands?"

"Well, you could look at it that way, I guess. The way I see it, they've blown off steam with people they trust, gotten their needs met so they could go on with their studies, while their husbands weren't available. I don't think that's cheating. The thing is, when Dara finally does give in and do it, she loves you so much she'll feel guilty and it will affect her performance in school, unless she thinks you'll be OK with it. That's what I'm asking for, sir, and it's for her sake as well as for mine. The truth is, sir, she's very upset over just what happened last night. She stumbled over her answers a couple of times in class today, and if it happens again, the teachers will be all over her. At the very least, please tell her you're okay after last night."

I told him to kiss my ass, and hung up. I called Dara, getting her voice mail as I had expected. I told her I understood what happened the previous night, that we were okay and I loved her and knew she loved me, and anything else we would talk about next time we were face to face.

Give Dara a pass so this ex-EMT with huge gentle hands could help her blow off steam? No. Never. Not happening. His other points, however, deserved consideration. He was obviously exaggerating in order to get me to see Dara's infidelity as inevitable, but he was probably telling the truth, mostly. More than that, it showed him to be rather perceptive, which would make him even slicker in his pursuit of Dara.

The next morning, there was a message from Dara on my machine asking if she could come home this weekend. Like I was going to say she couldn't?

We had our talk on Saturday evening. Dara told me the same things she had told her mother about how she met Brick, and what had happened Tuesday night. For the last six weeks or so, he made a habit of walking her home from nighttime labs or study sessions, and she usually invited him in for coffee. She grudgingly admitted they had kissed, but insisted there was nothing more.

She was aghast when I told her Brick had called me. She was furious when I told her he was sure he would eventually have sex with her. She stood and paced back and forth like a caged tiger. I'd never seen her so angry. Suddenly she stopped and looked at me.

"That's what you saw that night wasn't it? You saw that he was seducing me, that it was working, and you didn't see me doing much of anything to stop him. Oh, Canyon, no wonder you were so upset. I'm so sorry. I guess I've just been concentrating so hard on my studies I forgot to keep my guard up. It won't happen again."

She sat on the sofa next to me and curled up under my arm. We talked about the other things Brick had said. Dara confirmed what he said about the pressure and the bonding, and to a certain extent, the sex.

"I've spent a lot more time on my own than most of the med students, because I study better that way. You know I've never been a group study person. Now I'm glad of it. Still, I do feel the pressure he talks about."

We decided what Dara needed was an opportunity to "blow off steam," as Brick called it, while she was at home every other weekend. The time she spent studying had kept her ahead in her classes, but had done nothing to relieve the pressure. Now, each weekend home would include some simple activity to take the pressure off Dara, and, of course, good sex. On her side, she promised never to cancel another weekend home.

We came up with the idea together, and I must say, it worked like a charm. I could see Dara becoming more relaxed, and losing some of the gauntness that had begun to worry me. She was still determined in her studies, but she was less obsessive.

I don't remember what caused it, but once when she was home, suddenly we were laughing uncontrollably, our faces twisted and tears in our eyes. When one of us would stop, our eyes would meet and off we would go again. When we finally settled down, I looked at her.

"You laughed," I said. Her look said, "Thank you, Captain Obvious," but I continued. "You haven't really laughed since Christmas. That should have told me there was a problem, long before that night in your apartment. I'm sorry, Dara. I need to be more attentive, more in tune with you. I promise I'll work on that." We made long, sweet love that night. We were connected, more closely than ever.

Oh, yes, I got another phone call from Brick, or rather a voice mail: "All right, sir, you fixed my wagon but good, as my grandfather would say. Dara won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, but there are almost 100 male students in this class, and one of them is going to get your pretty Dara in bed. When he does, I will take the pleasure of letting you know, and saying I told you so." I played it for Dara; just so I could watch her eyes flash, and hear her snarl through her teeth about arrogant assholes. I loved it.

Dara and I had gone for a walk through the woods that spring, and were sitting on the porch swing when she turned to me.

"Oh, I have some news for you. You remember my old buddy Brick, don't you?" She giggled when I growled at her.

"You should be nicer to him, Canyon. The poor boy has had a pretty rough week." The glint in Dara's eye belied the sympathetic expression she painted onto her face.

"It seems that one of the women with whom he's been, what did he call it, blowing off steam, is the daughter of one of our teachers for next fall. The poor boy didn't catch on because her last name was different: she was married. Anyway, somehow or other her husband found out. After which, her father found out. After which, poor old Brick was informed (discreetly, of course) that his chances of passing neurology next fall are about as good as those of a hurricane in Alaska. My, ahem, sources tell me that come fall, he will no longer be among those present in our jolly little troupe."

I didn't even bother to sympathize. "It couldn't happen to a nicer guy," I opined.

"Oh, but there's more," Dara continued, her glee now undisguised.

"Several of us knew that Brick had a girl back home. It's one of the reasons I thought he was safe as a friend. He told anyone who asked that they'd talked about his, um, activities, and she was on board with them. Something must have been mixed up somewhere, though. A couple of days ago, a somewhat incendiary Dear Brick letter showed up on his Facebook page, accusing him of several misdeeds and telling him she hopes he rots in hell. Pretty much everyone in the class has read it." She smiled at me and folded her hands together demurely in her lap.

"Dara," I looked her in the eye, "You wouldn't have had anything to do with these events, would you?"

She plastered a cherubic look onto her face and simpered, "Who, me?"

Suddenly, she was deadly serious. "Canyon, he took advantage of my gratitude and friendship to try to get me to do something that would hurt you and me terribly. Even if you never knew, it would have changed my heart. I'd have never been the same again. Part of it was my fault. I should have known better than to lower my guard. He was right in a way; the single-minded focus on my studies was getting to me. I didn't even realize he was seducing me until that night you came to my apartment, and I should have. He even kissed me, for God's sake. I'm so very sorry for that, and for what you felt that night, Canyon. I do know how to protect myself. I was twenty-three when I gave you my virginity, and you know that doesn't happen by accident. I know what to do; I just didn't do it. That won't happen again, ever."

"It's okay, Baby. We're past it." I hugged her tightly.

"I wasn't going to let him get away scot free," she said. "He tried to come between you and me. I don't think he saw it that way; I think he really believed that crap he said to you on the phone. I don't care; that doesn't matter. The truth is, if he'd gotten what he wanted, it would have destroyed us. Canyon, I'm yours, completely, and for as long as you'll have me. Not just because you pulled me from the river, either, I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Anyone who tries to come between us had better look out, because he or she will get everything I can find to throw at them, as hard as I can throw it, right where it will hurt the most."

Her small body was quivering with intensity, and there were tears in her eyes as they met mine. I think there was something I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out, so I took her in my arms and squished her. That probably worked better anyway; she was pretty squishy.

Dara was offered a summer internship with a small pharmaceutical lab near where we lived. It was ideal for her, because she wanted to go into research, not practice, and she could live at home. Of course, she was ideal for them, too, with her top grades and her bent for research. There was only one snag, which neither one of us anticipated.

"Your hair? They're saying you won't work out because of your hair?" I was stunned.

"Yes, there are areas in the lab where you can't have any exposed hair. We have to wear long sleeves tucked into our gloves, and long pants tucked into our socks. The problem is none of their hairnets can hold all my hair. They want me to cut some of it off."

I think I mentioned that her hair is thick, wavy, shining blonde, and hangs to the small of her back when she wears it loose. "We can't have that," I said. We went out that evening to a food supply warehouse and found some industrial-strength full-coverage hairnets that would work. They looked more like big socks to me, but they would hold all of Dara's hair, and that's what mattered. We called them hair socks, and they worked fine all summer.

We had decided Dara would spend weekdays with Julia and weekends with me. She was worried about her mother. We had both hoped that she would go out more as the pain of Kara's loss faded, but she didn't.

"She won't talk to me about it, Canyon," Dara told me worriedly. "She says it's not the sort of thing you talk about with your children. What can we do? She's all alone over there, and that can't be good."

"No, it's not," I agreed. "I've been alone like that, and I know what it feels like. It's thanks to you that I'm not that way anymore." I took time out to give her a squeeze and a nice long kiss before returning to the subject at hand.

"Would you like me to try to talk with her about it? I'm over there from time to time fixing things anyway, so it would happen pretty naturally."

"Would you, Canyon? I'd really appreciate that. Though," she went on, "you'd better be careful just what you fix, and just what happens naturally. She's a fine looking woman, if I say it myself."

"Well, you had to get it from somewhere, didn't you?" That earned me a punch on the arm. "Seriously, Dara, I do like your mom. I think your dad had to be an idiot to let her go. If she went out at all, she could have her pick of men: anyone but me. I am definitely, thoroughly spoken for and not interested. Which I guess makes me perfect for the job: she won't think I'm just saying things trying to put the make on her."

Julia and I talked, but it wasn't very productive, so Dara and I began to take her out with us. We tried not to tease her too badly about how often she was hit on, but sometimes we couldn't help it, like the time we thought a couple of guys were going to fight over who would get the next dance with her. It wasn't always smooth, though. One poor fellow had no idea why everyone started crying when he followed Dara and me back to our table and asked Dara if it was okay for him to dance with her twin sister. I excused us, took Dara and Julia to my truck, went back, explained briefly to the guy, and drove us all to Julia's house. His heart was in the right place: he sent Julia a very nice card with an appropriate message.

All of this reminded me that I had a few things to do, as well. It was finally time for me to say a permanent good bye to Cybill. I'd known for months that I loved Dara more than I ever loved Cybill. Maybe it was because I was more grown up or more capable of love, maybe it was Dara herself, but it was true. Still, I needed to get Cybill out of my house and my heart before I could ask Dara to spend her life with me. So began the Grand Cleaning Out Project.

I had never thrown out or given away anything of Cybill's since her death. It was all still there. I began with her clothes. Dara was so much shorter than Cybill that she couldn't use any of it. I donated all of it, and I must say, somebody got some pretty good stuff out of the deal.

Cybill hardly ever wore jewelry so she didn't have much, but there were our wedding rings. I asked Dara what she thought I should do, and as usual, she was right. I gave them to a local minister, and asked him the next time he was counseling a couple who were in love and completely committed, but couldn't afford rings, to give them Cybill's and mine. He said he already knew the perfect couple. They were ecstatic, and invited Dara and me to their wedding. We went, and we're still friends.

Aside from the occasional advice, Dara wouldn't help with the Project. It was something I needed to do by and for myself, she said, sensing that it was cleaning out my heart just as much as my house. As the Project (and it was definitely a capital-P Project) went on, however, I thought I noticed Dara becoming more distant. I asked Julia if she knew anything. She had noticed something, too, but didn't have any more idea what it was about than I did. I decided to try to get Dara to talk. This was something new for me: with Cybill, and up until now with Dara, I had pretty much kept quiet and let them bring up anything that was troubling them. After missing the signs of Dara's school-related stress, however, I decided I had to be more proactive.

The results weren't positive at first: she looked at me, said "Nothing," walked into her study and closed the door. It was productive in that I now knew for sure something was wrong, but it would take a better detective than me to figure out what. I waited in increasing anxiety for what the clock said was thirty minutes, but I knew was a hell of a lot longer. Just as I resolved to knock on her door, she reappeared. Her face was drawn, and she had been crying.

"What..." was all I got out.

"Canyon, please let me ask this." She sat down in the chair opposite me. She never did that. I could see her nerving herself up for something.

"If I had a magic wand, and could bring Cybill back to life, and we were standing here together, which of us would you choose?"

I made some noise or other about what kind of question was that.

"Canyon, I've seen you staring at walls where there used to be pictures of her. I've seen you holding things, meaningful things from your time with her, and crying. I know you loved her, and I know you're trying to say good-bye to her, but... Canyon, I'm afraid. I'm afraid you're... I don't know, going back to her or something. Wishing you could have her instead of me. I know it sounds silly, but that's what I feel." She broke down in tears.

I stood up and took a step toward her chair. She held up a hand to stop me.

"Canyon, please wait. I love to cuddle just as much as you, but I don't think we can cuddle this away."

I sat back down. "Dara, do you know how I knew it was time to start this Project: start cleaning out Cybill's things?"

"No."

"When I realized that I love you more than I ever loved her. Ever. From the day we met until the day she died, I never loved her as much as I love you now. I was waiting for that before I started this Project: this final goodbye to her."