Oliver fled. He drove fast, hoping that speed would force him into the
present, that driving would require all of his attention, but images of
Jacky and Suzanne kept replacing each other in front of him. Suzanne
surrendered to him the way he had surrendered to Jacky. Suzanne gave
herself to him totally. Her trusting eyes put him in a powerful place.
But as he swelled with strength, something else happened--a little
voice whispered: _take care of her; she's yours._ He never felt that
with Jacky or with Jennifer. They took care of themselves.
The quilt had shocked him. Suzanne was gifted. She was so sexy, so
physical, so loving--how could she not have children? She deserved a
good husband and family, not a misfit for a lover, too old for her, and
married besides. Her breasts. God. Oliver drove faster.
"Pint of the finest," he said to Sam. His favorite spot was empty at
the end of the bar. He leaned against the wall and listened to Taj
Mahal playing the blues, keeping precise and honest time. He slid the
empty glass toward Sam. "Let's do that again." Women. Halfway through
the second pint, he said it out loud, "Women," and let go a deep
breath. Deweys at that hour was securely masculine. It was understood
that women were a source of difficulty, desirable though they were.
Oliver glanced around the room. The man didn't exist, in Deweys, at
that hour, who didn't have the scars to prove it.
He raised his glass to Mark who had just come in. "What are you going
to do?" he said.
"About what?"
"Women."
"Ah, marriage," Mark said.
"It's not so bad," Oliver said. Better than the first time. Love the
kid. But, Jennifer's working less and spending more. She wants to have
another baby and be a full time momma. She wants to add on to the
house."
"You just got the house."
"I know. What she wants to do makes sense, but it's a lot of money.
Most of her friends have boats. They _all_ have boats. Wouldn't it be
nice to go sailing with Emma?" Oliver lifted his hands in a helpless
gesture. "She's even got me lined me up for a good job at a bank."
"Where the money is," Mark said.
"I mean, it's not bad. It's just . . ." Oliver shook his head
negatively. "Gathering clouds," he said.
"Sounds like a stripper," Mark said. "Wasn't there a famous
stripper--Tempest Storm?"
"I don't need a stripper," Oliver said, suddenly pleased with himself.
"Tempest Storm," Richard O'Grady said, shuffling to the bar, bright
eyed. "Volcanic!"
"Hey, Richard. What's happening?"
"Nothing volcanic--but I found a '55 T-Bird. It's a little rough. My
mechanic and I are putting it in shape."
"Nice," Mark said. "It will appreciate."
"Right," Richard said. "If it survives my niece. It's going to be a
present for her eighteenth birthday."
"Would you be my uncle?" Oliver asked.
"Since she's not quite seventeen, that means I'll have to drive it for
a year." Richard illuminated the universe with one of his smiles.
"Well, you want to test it out," Mark said. Oliver laughed and drank
more Guinness. The room filled with the Friday crowd. He would be home
an hour late. So be it. Jennifer would forgive him. Emma would give him
a big smile. Woof. Verdi.
In the following months, Oliver slipped further.
Suzanne took days off, left early for the dentist, and called in sick
when they couldn't stand to be apart any longer. No one seemed to
notice that they were often absent from the hospital at the same time,
although Molly began smiling at Oliver in a shrewd and tolerant way.
"What are _you_ smiling at?" Oliver asked her as he was leaving one
afternoon.
"Mama didn't raise no fools," she said.
"I like your mama--she make biscuits, by any chance?"
"Melt in your mouth," Molly said. "Almost as good as mine."
"I want to die and wake up in Georgia," Oliver said. Molly was warning
him. If she had figured it out, the rest would too.
Suzanne gave herself to him utterly. She hoped that he would make love
to her when he came over, but if he wanted only to hold her or to have
his back rubbed, that was fine, too. He learned about her religious
beliefs. She went to church every Saturday with the Fundamentalists and
did her part in their community which included a school as well as the
hospital. She was good-natured about her uncle and didn't take the
rules too literally. How could she and carry on with Oliver? She
believed in prayer. "Every night I ask forgiveness. I ask the Lord to
show me the way. I need a lot of forgiving," she said.
"You're so sweet," Oliver said.
"I can be a bitch," she said. "I just don't feel that way around you."
She lifted her face, lips parted for a kiss, and he pulled her to him.
She told him about her father, a long-distance trucker who drove away
for good when she was eight. He had a drinking problem and was abusive.
He lived in California somewhere, she thought, or at least he had once.
Her mother remarried when Suzanne was in high school. Suzanne didn't
like her new stepfather. When her mother moved out of town, Suzanne
stayed behind for her last year of high school, living with her uncle
and aunt. That was when she ran away with Donny, a sax player, and got
a taste for jazz. She left him when she realized that his love for
drugs was a lot stronger than his love for her.
She told him funny stories about Harley, who ran the local U-Haul
franchise and was forever hitting on her for a date. She liked Harley.
"He can fix anything." He was a Fundamentalist in good standing. "If
they can put up with Harley, they can put up with me," she said.
Their relationship remained intensely physical. Oliver spanked her a
few more times, but it quickly became a ritual, not a punishment.
Suzanne didn't want him to hurt her. She wanted him to control her, a
different matter. He felt increasingly responsible for her. He did
whatever he wanted with her, sexually. She molded to his needs and
became more beautiful by the week.
One afternoon, as Oliver was leaving the hospital, Gifford called him
into his office. "What can I do for you?" Oliver asked.
"Nothing special," Gifford said. "I wanted to check in with you. We are
pleased with your work."
"Thank you. I've had a lot of cooperation from Dan and--Suzanne."
"Yes. Suzanne said that you were attentive to detail." Gifford rubbed
his chin. "She's my niece, you know."
"Yes," Oliver said.
"She's had troubles in the past, but she's overcome them with hard work
and the Lord's help," Gifford said. "She'll make someone a fine wife."
"He'll be a lucky guy," Oliver said.