In Places on the Run Ch. 05

The Conclusion

There remained one more bustle in her hedgerow, one more spring clean for the May Queen.

The trip. This trip, our trip, the fabric of our lives ripped apart and rearranged, the storm ravaged journey that had carried Deb to my side once again -- after twenty two years. I wondered, could she still hear the wind blow? Did she know her stairway waited in whispering winds we'd walked away from once before? I didn't, not really, not just then, and still I wondered. Could there ever be happy endings for people who've never believed in them, or would our forests echo with laughter?

+++++

My next walk belonged to Rhea, and everyone knew it.

I could follow the script I'd rejected a thousand lifetimes ago, or -- not. I could settle down and settle in, prop my feet up and start reading next week's TV Guide, or I could ramble on down the same road I'd been on all my life. How many Deborah's had there been in my life, I wondered, how many close encounters had I walked away from. Now when I thought about Deb I remembered that night in Berlin, that night at Tempelhof. How tired I'd been as we landed and shut down the aircraft as dense fog rolled in, then there was that tall girl by my side -- asking me about the city -- what was it like, she wanted to know, and -- not knowing what to do or how to get there, would I accompany her. How dinner had led us onward, how she'd been a passable lover, nothing special really, but how much I'd enjoyed her company, even then. How I'd left the next morning, really nothing more than a goodbye, maybe there'd been a kiss on the cheek, maybe not -- I couldn't say. Just another girl in a series, really. One more brick in the wall, one brick like all the others. Nothing and nothingness, always becoming.

And now what? Rhea? Was she really the one? I thought of that flight in July, when that sniveling law student took all those pictures up her skirt. How protective I'd felt, how when we were back in the galley she held on to me while winds of uncertainty blew through her life. How she left me breathless when she kissed me in Munich, how electric her skin felt on mine as we lay in that bathtub.

I'd gone to Tiffany's in LA, got a simple white gold band for her, and one for me. The little box burned in my coat pocket, yearning for release as we sat in that ancient pub. Deb just looked at me, measuring me, I guess wondering if I'd learned anything over the last twenty years. Or would I revert to type and run?

I looked at Rhea, at Lucy, then at Sam. All our lives bound together, right now, in soft candlelight. Bound in quiet expectation. This one action would, I knew, bind us all together -- forever. If I walked away everything and everyone would be carried off on the wind. Dissolution. Emptiness. Darkness.

Nothing and nothingness. Never being.

"It's time you and I took a walk," I whispered in Rhea's ear. Oh, her face was so lovely in the soft glow of that night, her eyes liquid and alive. It's the script that binds us together, isn't it? That's all I wanted to know.

There were thunderstorms all around us, lightning within clouds shimmered in the night sky -- yet just above I saw starlight. We walked through the village, students with books walked from libraries to dorms, all very studious, all very serious. This was part of the script, too. This thing called progress, working towards a better future. A better future, the script reads, for our kids. We, the old farts, provide guidance and love, that's in the contract too, right? When that breaks down, when we stop reading from the script, it's game over. The whole thing starts to unravel.

And what about my feelings about my past, why I'd chosen to live almost like a vagabond, why I'd never married? It all came down to this moment, didn't it? I either believed in where the script was taking me, taking all of us, or it was time to jump off the merry-go-round and fade away into the night. I could go and lay down in a ditch, for all anyone might care -- if I abandoned the script.

We walked to the chapel, walked around the quad looking up at the graceful lines and towering spires, walked among the lightning and the stars, and I asked her the same question men have asked women since the beginning of our time in this universe.

And she said yes.

I thought of Bogart and Bergman, and I finally understood that a sigh is indeed but a sigh, as time goes by, and that there's no better feeling.

+++++

We walked on to Deb's house, we walked hand in hand over the graceful little bridge that crosses the River Cam, then onto the lane where Rhea lived. Winds whipped treetops as we walked, thunder followed flashes in the sky, I felt rain drops every now and then as the amber glow of home reached out to us, as the door opened and Deb and Lucy stood in their own pool of warmth. Their eyes focused oh Rhea's left hand, on the ring they'd hoped to see, and Deb smiled the smile of one who knows her plan has been followed. She hugged Rhea, Lucy hugged Rhea, then Deb and Lucy were on me, all over me, and as we three stood in this new fusion I knew I'd have been lost forever without Deborah. That there would never have been this future without her. And I loved her then. Loved her as much as I loved Rhea, or Sam, or anyone I'd ever loved.

"This is the most impossible family that ever existed," I whispered in her ear, and she pulled back from me and looked at me and smiled that benign, all-knowing smile at me.

"And this is your family, John. All of us, all of this. This is yours now. It's where you belong now. Your family needs you now, and believe it or not, you need us."

+++++

Which, believe it or, made a certain kind of sense to Sam as he and I sat on Deb's back porch -- glasses of twenty year old port in hand. "I've been thinking a lot about Brigit today," he said, "and I don't know how or why, but I love her."

"So tell her, you daft pig!" Deb said as she joined us, a glass of sherry in her hand. "I mean it, go inside right this minute and call her. Tell her, before she comes to her senses and runs, tell her before you run out of chances to tell her. Tell her, for God's sake, if that's what you feel. She'll never know if you don't, because the only thing women like to hear is that they're loved..."

"I think I asked you this once before," Sam said, sitting up in his chair, "but do you always get what you want?"

"Always, you lout!" she bellowed. "And before you ask why, it's because I'm smarter than you. And because I know what I want."

"And you think I don't?"

"Sam," she said, only more softly now, "I love you like a brother, so don't take offense, but you have no fucking idea what you want. You've spend your entire life running from what you want, and I doubt you'll ever know what that is."

"That's kind of a conundrum, isn't it, Deborah?" he said. "I'm running from something, but I don't know what it is I'm running from?"

"You're running, Sam, because that's all you know how to do. You're running because you love falling in love, but that's it, that's the end of game. Once you've fallen you're all done, aren't you? You've had your high then, so it's time to move on to the next high, to the next girl." She took a long pull from her glass, then looked at me. "You too, John. I saw that in your eyes twenty years ago, and I thought I saw that in your eyes two months ago, but not now, because you surprised me. I saw something different. Unfortunately, I saw Rhea."

"But you know what, John?" she continued. "What hurt the most? Once I realized who you were, all I wanted was for you to recognize me, to finally fall in love with me, but that wasn't going to happen. But you don't know why, do you? Because I wasn't going to let that happen. Not again. And then I met Rhea. Then I learned she was with your child, and you know what, John. I wasn't going to let you run away from her, run away from life. Never again."

"Let me?" I said. "That's a little obtuse, wouldn't you say?"

"No more than you fucking one girl after another, then running away. Think of it, John, you too, Sam. Ever wonder how many other kids are out there with your genes? How many kids are out there with no father?"

No, I hadn't, and I was pretty sure about Sam, too.

"I guess that's why there's the pill, Deb," Sam said.

"And you ask every girl, right Sam, every time? That's why Brigit's pregnant, right? And John? Why Rhea's pregnant. Why I got pregnant?"

Sam laughed. "Jesus H Christ, Deb, why don't you go get a knife and chop 'em off. All of 'em."

"What?" she said, clearly offended.

"You carry on like women don't like sex, don't have a say in any of this, like women are simply victims, falling prey to every cock out there, and you know what? That's just simplistic bullshit, that's a world where everyone wants to become a victim. But sure, I get it, we live in a paternalistic society. Men do lot's of evil shit, too. They rape girls, hell, they rape little kids, too. But you know what, Deb? I've never raped anyone, and women do some evil shit too. I've paid for a lot of sex, true, but that's actually a fairly honest transaction compared to what you're accusing me of. And I know John pretty well, so feel pretty good about it when I say he's no rapist, either." He sighed, took a deep breath. "So. Answer me this, will you? That night in Berlin? Who picked up who? Who made the first move?"

She closed her eyes. "I did."

"Well thanks, Deb. For being honest, I mean. Now tell me this: did you want to sleep with him, or did he get you drunk and then, what, seduce you? Did he rape you?"

"I wanted to fuck him, Sam, and I get your point."

"Do you? Because you just claimed to have roped John into marrying Rhea..."

"No, I didn't, Sam. I said I wanted him to recognize what he's doing when he runs away. I said I wanted it to stop here, now. Because I want him to own up to his responsibilities as a father, and as a lover, a mate. Running is a child's way of avoiding responsibility, Sam, in case that hasn't occurred to you."

"Or it's simply a way to avoid getting bogged down in a relationship you know is doomed to fail. You seem to imply that wanting to have sex with someone is the same thing as wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person, so tell me this. When you and John had sex, did you do so hoping you'd get married?"

"No, of course not."

"Well then, I'm confused. Obviously I need another drink, and yes, if I may, I'd like to call Brigit, because yes, I do love her, and you're absolutely right, Deb -- I'd feel better if I told her that."

Deb was glaring at him, not quite angry, but not real happy, either.

Sam walked to her and leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, then Deb stood up and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then they hugged.

"You know what, Deb? I hate to say this, but I love the hell out of you. And I think John was an idiot to let you get away in Berlin."

She broke down at that, she was crying hard and he held on to her, held on and whispered in her ear.

She nodded her head, hugged him harder, then she looked up and kissed him again, for a long time, too, and by that point I was getting very, very confused.

"You better show me how to use that telephone in there, darlin'," he said, "'cause I'm right clueless."

She came back a few minutes later and topped off my port, but she looked unusually happy.

"The girls are still studying?" I asked, now even more confused.

"Yup. Both have exams on Friday, too."

"Well then, I'm the father figure in this little family you've got all planned out, is that about right? So, what does that make you?"

"Glue, John. I'm the glue that's going to hold this mess together."

"Glue? That sounds sexy."

"Isn't there anything else on your mind other that sex?"

"Rarely."

"You know, I know you're trying to be funny..."

"No, I'm not, not really."

She laughed. "How long has it been?"

"Munich?"

"You must be about to explode."

"I passed that point two weeks ago. So, what about the trip. You ready for it?"

"I think so. Better clothes this time. A real riding suit, skid pads, boots."

"What about camping gear?"

"Yup, got it, but I need bigger cases, some tie down points, too, but I guess we can do that in Athens. Does Sam have a good route?"

"I think so. We'll have to go through Iran, though. Might be a problem getting visas. We'll try in Istanbul; if that falls through then we have to head north, through Georgia and Turkmenistan, all those former Soviet satellites."

"Slower that way," she said.

"More dangerous, too," Sam said, coming back out. "Brigit sends her love, John."

"And the question is," Deb added, "did you?"

"I did, Deb, and I told her about John and Rhea. She's jealous."

"I'm getting worried about you," I said. "Two days, and you haven't been laid. How long can you go?"

"I don't know. Uncharted waters, Amigo. Not sure I want to find out, though."

"You ain't married yet, Sam," Deb said. "And you won't find any hookers in this town."

"I'm not planning on finding out," he said with a laugh. "What about you, Deb? Wanna get laid?"

She raised an eyebrow at that. "My, my. This is getting interesting."

"Hopelessly so," Sam rejoined. "I'm actually getting concerned. Afraid, even. Two more days and the record's broken."

"London's just an hour away," I said. "Probably one or two hookers there."

"I will if you will, John."

"I guess that answers that question. Maybe that's why they say 'Speak now or forever hold your piece.'" Of course I said that while grabbing mine.

Deb shook her head. "Man, I'm sure glad I don't have a penis."

"Me too," Sam and I said, in unison.

+++++

"I'm not sure what the etiquette is here," I said as I looked at Rhea. She was spread out on her bed, naked as the day she came into this world. "Do I just dive in, or is there some special kind of way to do this?"

"I'm not going to break, John, and I doubt you'll hurt the baby. You're big, fella, but not that big."

"Wow, you really know how to stroke a guy's ego."

"You look like you could use a stroke, but you know, it looks like you haven't had anything to eat in a while."

"A long time, as a matter of fact. Too long."

"Must've been -- hard -- for you," she said, taking the matter in hand.

"You're looking kinda hungry yourself, Kiddo."

"You got no idea, John."

When our late night snack was over, we talked for a while about school, and about the baby. She wanted to have the baby in the UK, she said, saying she loved England now. Thought she might want to stay after school, after all the training. Then she wanted to talk about me, about us.

"Do you really want to fly?" she wanted to know.

"It's what I do, Babe. I'm not ready to retire."

"How many more years?"

"Three, maybe five years."

"Jesus. I can't be apart from you that long. What'll we do?"

"Probably play it by ear for now. Worst thing happens is I commute from here, do something like two weeks on, two weeks off. But I'm not going to put us in the position of not seeing each other for months at a time."

"What about the trip? Is that still on?"

I looked away, because that would take me away for months, three at least. "Yes, it's still a go. And Deb still wants to go, for some of it, at least."

She nodded her head, her lip trembling. "I understand."

"I think you and Lucy will be inseparable by the time we get back."

"We already are, John. It's kind of strange, but we really hit it off."

I could only imagine. Deb again. Building her family. Always in control. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her."

"This has got to be so hard for you."

"How so? I mean, what makes you say that?"

"Alone for so many years, then...this. Surrounded by women, and every one making demands on you -- one way or another."

"When it rains, it pours, I guess. But..."

"Don't give up on me, John. On us..." and now she was crying.

I held her close, nothing else I could do, really. Words were inadequate to the moment, and the only thing left to do was to hold her 'til the moment passed. Actions speak louder than words, right?

+++++

We left Heathrow early in the morning on the 9th, and were in Athens getting the bikes out of storage by mid-afternoon, then to a BMW dealer after we topped off the batteries. Sam had a long list of work he wanted performed on each bike: beyond regular maintenance we were adding skid plates under the oil sump, beefier crash guards front and rear, cages over all the lights to keep stones out, even bigger cases and with more tie-down points. The mechanic at the dealer advised adding welded racks to carry at least five gallons of extra fuel, and offered to make a special rack to put Sam's new GPS on the handlebars, and promised everything would be ready in three days. We agreed and left for the hotel.

Sam disappeared before we left, however, leaving Deb and I to wonder what kind of woman he'd go for this time, but we rode back to our hotel in silence, sorry he'd fallen off the wagon so soon. We went out to dinner just as he pulled up in a taxi, and as he piled out I saw Brigit climbing out after him and I broke out laughing.

I ran up and gave her a huge hug -- and a high five for good measure; she laid a kiss on me that made my balls quiver -- and I had to stand back and admire her frank sexuality once again after that. Introductions were made, Deb was elated, Sam too, as no doubt he'd spend the next two days in bed getting caught up. He wasn't hungry, he said, and hoped we'd have a nice dinner, then the two of them were off -- not to be seen for weeks, we assumed.

Athens is outrageous at night, usually cool with her breezes off the sea. The Acropolis and Parthenon, both dramatically lighted, dominate the city, and our hotel -- the old Grande Bretagne -- was situated to take advantage of the view; even so, Deb and I chose to walk around the city for a while, and of course she provided a running commentary of everything we saw, then she stopped.

"It's your turn to tell me something about Athens. I'm tired of hearing my own voice drone on all the time!"

"Well, runway three three right at the airport, Ellinikon, is probably the worst in Europe," I began, and when her eyes didn't glaze over too badly I continued. "The TDZ, uh, the touch down zone, slopes downhill so when the mains hit you're going downhill, but almost immediately the runway slopes up -- so if you let the nose down prematurely you'll rip out the nose gear. It's not so bad with conventional swept wings, but with the 727s supercritical sections..."

"John?"

"Yes, Deb."

"You can stop now, John."

"Yes, Deb."

"How 'bout some coffee or something?"

"Yes, Deb."

"That's impressive John. Do you something about anything that doesn't have to do with flying?"

"Sex. I know a little about that."

"Uh-huh. Well, sorry I asked."

"You betcha."

"So, how was Rhea?"

"How...what do you mean?"

"About you flying?"

"Worried we won't get to see each other enough."

"I guess my little plan backfired."

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, if I got Rhea to Cambridge you'd follow her there. I'd get to keep you in my life, and Lucy's."

"Life's too full of random events, Deb. You can't control everything."

"Especially where men are concerned."

"I wouldn't say that. Two months ago I was scared. A month ago I was terrified -- that I was going to die. And it could have gone either way, Deb. This time it went my way --"

"Our way, John."

"Okay, our way, but it could have gone the other. I could be in chemo right now, tied down with a colostomy bag, or maybe just waiting to die. No one had the slightest control over the outcome. It was all just chance. You could hit a rock in the road next week, or take a corner and meet a truck coming head-on in your lane. You can minimize bad outcomes with training, but a lot of it boils down to random chance, random outcomes. You can't predict everything."