Sunday, January 19, 2014

Helen Among the Stars

Dear Friends,

I have written a number of stories, only one of which is complete, namely Alexandra, which I'm trying to edit quickly to be ready for release by Monday after next!  It is completely written, but since writing it sometime in 2004 or so, I have learned a lot about what to write, and to what degree I want sentimentality to intrude into my writing, and how to express ideas that are just a little trickier than popular authors want to write about!  So I have to go back and clean it up, because there are passages in Alexandra that are so utterly extraneous that nobody would enjoy reading them.  Well, anyway, I need to clear out at least half of the remaining pages; the rest is pretty well written.

Alexandra is a story about war, about cultural diversity, about idealism and society, in a minor way, and about love and lust, and the different ways people love each other.  I love that story, and despite the clumsiness of the writing early on, there are a few characters in that story that are types that I love dearly.  Some of them reappear as other characters in other stories, but they were first invented in Alexandra, so I feel that these are, in some ways, the originals.

Another story I wrote —the very first— is the story of Helen; a long, rambling saga of a couple million words, which begins when Helen is a teenager, trying to hitch-hike her way to college, and continues her tortured progress through cancer, amnesia, heartbreak, a secret existence as an underage adult entertainer, until she achieves fame as a singer and violinist, and musical genius.  Obviously this is a completely implausible story on the face of it.  But once Helen was out of graduate school, I got tired of making her so fantastically amazing in everything she undertook, and the story settled down into an account of someone who just barely could exist.

Well, quite incidentally, —and I don't have a clue what made me invent this subplot; it was around 2000— a new TV company, in the story, creates a TV series called Galactic Voyager, in which a spaceship is built in Moon orbit, in the early 21st century, and sent into space with a large number of volunteers on board, including a dozen people, experts, who were in hibernation, frozen alive, like the crew on 2001: A Space Odyssey.  One of these is a brilliant musician and dancer called Cecilia.

I made this company invite Helen to play Cecilia on this TV series.  (There are excellent reasons why Helen was the ideal choice for the role, in the plot.)  As Helen's life goes on, on one weekend a month, she heads out to Seattle, to tape the segments in which she is to appear on the show on Saturday nights.  She isn't the star of the show, and lots of stuff goes on in the show, Cecilia's storyline being just one of many.  Of course I don't have to describe them all; I only bother to describe the storyline as it impinges on what Cecilia is asked to do.

A year or two later, it struck me that I might just be able to write a Science Fiction novel based on this sub-plot in the Helen story, but this time, it would actually be Helen herself.  (The Helen in this SF story is not exactly the same Helen as in her earlier story; in that, towards the end, she has another bout with cancer, which leaves her almost a total amnesiac, regressed to her late teens, totally unable to be a musician, barely a mother to her adopted children.  In the new story, Helen is a violinist and conductor who, after a traumatic breakup with her lover, impulsively offers to join the expedition as the first volunteer in hibernation.)

I feel, at this point, that this story: The Music of the Stars is the one most likely of anything I have written, to attract any significant attention from critics or readers.  Unfortunately, it is incomplete.  But I have several dramatic choices I can make; there is almost too much potential in the story.  If anyone reading this is familiar with Science Fiction at all, you must know that absolutely anything can happen.  So far, nothing in the story is at all fantastic; it is all boringly plausible from the scientific point of view, so as hard science fiction I suppose it rates fairly low.  All my energy has gone into exploring the psychological dynamics of shipboard society, and how some of the personalities respond to the conditions with a lot of grace, while others do not.

So, while I work at Alexandra because I want it published with the least embarrassment to me and to Smashwords, and because I have my pride, and I hate to find weaknesses in my writing which I could have fixed before it went into print, in a sense Alexandra is already finished.  But Stars could be more important, and I want to make sure I do right by it, to make the ending truly worthy of the setup!  I wish I could tell you more, but it is the sort of story where a spoiler could actually make the story not worth reading.

I guess I just had to get that off my chest!!  I should be working on Alexandra, but it's Stars  that I read just before I fall asleep at night!

Kay.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Helen has Come Out of the Closet!

Thanks to the encouragement that you readers have unwittingly provided, I have decided to publish stories from Helen on Smashwords!  Smashwords, some of you might not know, is a site that permits anyone to publish e-books.  It is well worth paying it a visit, because some of the e-books on Smashwords are available for absolutely free, while some of them cost as little as 99 cents.  (You have to register with them, to get any of this stuff, which--at present--means only that you will get the occasional promotional e-mail from them.  I get almost no junk mail from them, even being an author.)

So far, I have published two episodes on the site, namely (1) Sweet Hurricane, which is the story of Helen and kids at the beach, when --and where-- Helen meets Harriet, and shortly afterwards, in Philadelphia, Maryssa and Matthew Brooks, children of the elderly photographer Diane Elman.  (Note: this book was subsequently renamed Helen At the Beach.)  Both Harriet and Maryssa (and of course Helen, which goes without saying) are among my favorite creations, and though the greater part of Helen has been just thrown together, and only intended as --informal-- therapy for myself, and will require an enormous amount of editing to make it publishable, this episode begins the portion of the "book" where I write for an audience other than myself.  Secondly, (2) Little John Finds a Friend is the story of Little John, Helen's young half-brother, now in college, and Taylor Brown, the goth chick who takes charge of him over one Christmas break.  Taylor Brown is also one of my favorite characters, and I love her to pieces.  She is more of a real person than most of the people in Helen, who are really myself in disguise!

Both those stories have been priced very low (under $3), and are not selling at all!  This is not surprising; I'm told that it is rare for a typical writer to make it big on Smashwords, and even rarer to do so with their earliest offerings.

An image I featured on this site, and how
it was modified to be a cover for Jane.
One of my most recent stories (well, begun around 2002) is Jane.  I haven't serialized Jane for the simple reason that it contains an enormous amount of sex, and I essentially wrote it for very prurient reasons.  But, as I wrote, Jane evolved into a story far more accessible than the Helen stories.  Being an amateur musician, I made Helen a total musical phenom, and as a result I suspect that the typical reader will find it hard to relate to someone who comes across as impossibly gifted musically, and impossibly screwed-up psychologically. While Helen is considerate (for the most part) of her colleagues and her students, she is inept in dealing with her significant others--not because she doesn't care for them, but because she finds it so hard to resist temptation.  So, anyway, I did a serious amount of sanitizing Jane, and published it completely for free.  Obviously, this doesn't bring me any money at all, but, on the other hand, it has been downloaded some 80 times, which is great!  You can find Jane here, at Smashwords.  I'm in the process of cleaning up spelling and grammar errors, and I hope to have it exactly the way I want it by Thanksgiving.

Synopsis of Jane.  Unlike Helen, Jane is a college dropout, has broken up with her husband (or boyfriend; it isn't clear, and I don't care enough to clarify it), and lives in a big house in New York City, taking so-called glamour photographs which her ex helps her put on the Web.  He pays her a fraction of the money his website makes, but gradually Jane gets into painting, which is her main avocation.  She paints an erotic painting of two of her models blended into a single girl, nude, kneeling in front of an ornate mirror, looking at her crotch.  What an awesome picture that would make!  I'm sure someone somewhere has done it, but I certainly don't know where to find such an image.  Anyway, she sells limited edition prints of this, and makes a lot of money.  By this time, she discovers that several people she knows has contracted AIDS, including her lover Deanna, who gradually gets sick and dies.

Jane is devastated.  She barely survives for close to a year, occasionally checked on by some of her models, who are very fond of her.  Then she meets a pair of twins, who gradually bring her out of her depression.  A lot of the story is about other characters who are incidental to the main story, but whose little adventures make Jane a more real person.  (I just can't write a story with a straight-line "plot"; sorry.  Life isn't like that.  However fantastic my stories end up being, and however impossibly brilliant my characters, they live in a sort of real-ish world, where lots of things interfere with what might be considered The Plot.)  End of Synopsis.  Well, read it and check it out; after all, it is free!

I started writing because (A) I had these awesome fantasies that I got while driving long distances all by myself.  I just had to do something while driving for, like 6 or 7 hours at a stretch, which I had to do frequently.  Then, (B) I had some unhappy experiences with my partner at one time, and decided to move into separate apartments.  When I found myself spending hours and hours by myself with only my coursework assignments to do, I decided to actually put some of my stories down on paper, beginning with Helen.

As I gradually got accustomed to thinking of myself as a sexual animal, and less fearful about appearing so to the outside world, I began to think of a story where the sex was a little more objectivized, and Jane was born.  9-11 plays a role in Jane, but the excerpt I published is taken from well after that event, and is not concerned centrally with it.  Jane could end up being the only true book I write.

There is another book, called The Music of the Stars © 2012 , which is very promising.  In Helen, it so happens that our heroine is invited to star in a weekly prime time series called The Galactic Voyager.  It is set in the not-so-distant future, where an enormous space vessel, called the Galactic Voyager is launched from Earth, with several hundred volunteers on board, including a famous musician and artist called Cecilia.  Helen is to play Cecilia, who is put on board in a state of hibernation, which is to say in a deep freeze, to be resuscitated as needed.  But a couple of dozen years into the mission, the young people who were born in space are becoming disoriented, because they really don't have a context for living on board a space vessel.  I mean, imagine growing up in deep space, and being told that your parents had lived on an actual planet at one time, but now all you have is this cramped spaceship?  So Cecilia is revived, to provide them with some meaning in their lives.

Anyhow, I began to think that this story line might actually be better as the basis of a novel than almost anything I have written up to now, though of course, it is squarely in the area of science fiction.  So I began to write a new story, and in this one, it is actually Helen who is put in stasis, on board a vessel bound for deep space.  She is revived, and then they find themselves in the vicinity of a star system that has a planet that promises to be inhabitable.  Meanwhile, Helen's diabetes has taken a turn for the worse, and furthermore, she is the only diabetic on board.  In order to ensure that Helen's genes are preserved, they clone her, unbeknownst to her.  So, to make a long story short, this has been written at some length: some 225,000 words.

Most interestingly, one of the greatest difficulties I'm having with publishing on Smashwords is --you'll never guess-- creating attractive covers for the books!  I am pleased with the cover of Jane.  The cover of Little John is a goofy little thing I put together in PowerPoint, which captures the mood of the story amazingly well.  (The difficult part is to represent the characters not too closely, because that would spoil it for readers with a strong imagination, whose conception of a particular character might be at odds with the depiction on the cover.) The cover I created for Hurricane is probably the most awful cover ever created by man or woman.  Here they are!

Kay

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Legs, Episode 1

This is a new story I'm in the process of writing.  I want this one to be a little more explicit, for myself.  You might choose to skip it, if it's offensive.

February

I woke up feeling tired and out of sorts.  My room-mate was up already, probably gone in to breakfast.  I dragged myself to the sink, and while I was brushing my teeth I remembered: I wanted to get to the Library before 8:30.  When I have to, I can get ready very quickly.  I managed to freshen up fast, and had my clothes on before I heard the quick knock.  (She always knocked before she came in.)
“You’re up early!  Where’re you going?”
“Oh …”  This was very unusual; she usually never asked me stuff like this.  “... I just woke up early, so … I thought I’d head in …” I improvised, giving my hair a few last touches, and putting on a little lip gloss.  She kept staring at me, and I could feel myself getting red.  If I tried to explain, I’d say something stupid, I knew.  I just glanced at her and smiled enigmatically.  My hair was getting to be a problem; there were tangles at the ends, and I’d broken them off.  The room-mate had long hair, too, and the room was full of long dark hair all over the rug.  Ugh.
It was a quick breakfast and I hurried to the library.  It was a little after 8.  I looked around in the library lounge, but there was nobody.  I took out the History text I had checked out on Friday, and started to read.     I noticed her as soon as she sat down.
She lowered herself slowly into the upright chair at her usual table.  I quickly looked away; I knew by now that she became uncomfortable if I kept looking at her.  She pulled out a folder and a textbook, and looked around again.  I was pretending to be absorbed in my book.  Somehow I could see her look at me a couple more times.  Pretty soon she was drawn into whatever she was doing –some homework, I suppose-- and she had forgotten about me for the moment..
I read for almost half an hour, and to my surprise, picked up a lot from the book.  I was forcing myself to be interested, and I was getting interested.  It was all that stuff about the Constitution, and the man had made it seem pretty logical.  I bookmarked my place, laid down the book, and slowly got up without getting noticed by the girl.  I strolled over to the coffee bar just outside the library, and got myself a small coffee.  I'm beginning to cut down, because it gives me a sour stomach.
When I got back, I walked over behind a tall rack of magazines, from where I could see her unobserved.  She had just noticed that I was missing, and spent a minute looking for me fruitlessly, of course.  She then noticed my stuff on the side-table, and taking a last cautious look around, bent over her notebook.  She was a left-hander, I knew.  Today she had worn a brief skirt with an irregular edge, which drew attention to her legs, and I could feel myself getting  warm under my heavy clothing.  I watched her writing for a while.  She wrote very slowly and carefully, printing.  I liked that!
I suddenly noticed the time; it was just a few minutes to my history class.

History went well; I had retained a lot from my reading, oddly enough.  After history, it was my music lesson.  I hadn’t practiced long enough, and I got a lecture from the instructor, and I left with my face all red.  I ran into her on my way back to the library, and we were both startled, and looked quickly away.  She was headed in the opposite direction, but I kept myself from looking back at her, because I had done that once before, and she had been looking back at me!
It was difficult to look for her during lunch, because Lisa, Julie and Matt insisted on eating with me, and were beginning to ask questions about why I was looking around so much.
“There.  She’s looking round again!”
“Who’re you expecting?”  Julie was always suspicious, and accused me of having a ‘secret friend.’
“Just looking, Julie!  People are all dressed up today, that’s all …”
“Oh. It’s dress-up day for the sororities, I think.  The Gammas are all dressed up.”
Julie was off about the Gammas, and I was safe for a while.
“What are you going to do for Spring Break?”
“Just … stay right here, I guess … I’ll be fine!”
“Oh.”  Julie felt she ought to invite me home for Spring Break, but she was too chicken to ask her parents.  My home was on the West Coast, and it was too far to fly out there just for a week.  My sister had had me over for Thanksgiving, but she was in Japan, and wouldn’t be back in time.  I had family in Georgia, but I didn’t feel like going.

My Dad ran a business in San Francisco with his sister, and was busy all the time.  My mom had died while I was in high school, and Dad was not quite over that.  College was in the Midwest, and I was pretty much marooned there until the semester was over.  I’m a sophomore, and English major, but I’m thinking of changing my major to something else, like, … I don’t know; art, maybe.  I got good grades in art last year, but I haven’t taken any art courses in a while.
This nameless girl I’ve been stalking is still a mystery to me.  I first noticed her in the Fall.  She’s a short-haired blonde with really blue eyes, a little heavy-built, but I like the way she’s built.  She seems to have no friends, and I feel as if I want to make friends with her, but I can’t quite loosen up enough to talk to her.  We just stare at each other.  I think she looks a little suspicious of me, which is why I’m beginning to watch her from in hiding.  This is not good.

Unexpectedly, a couple of weeks after, I walked into a hair place.  I like to wear my hair long, but I was beginning to get annoyed with all the split ends, and I’m thinking it’s time for a trim.  It’s late on a Friday afternoon, and I’ve got the okay from Dad, to spend up to $25.  If it costs more, it will be out of my allowance.
I went in and put my name in the customer list, and saw her!  She’s working as a hairdresser!  That’s the most unlikely thing I could imagine!  I mean, she isn’t a beauty freak, or anything; no makeup, no mascara, nothing!
I sat down, and pretended to read a magazine.  She hadn’t noticed me; she was giving a haircut to a man of about forty, and he was flirting with her.  Actually, I guess he wasn’t; he was just talking to her, and she was nodding.  I listened carefully, and I heard a soft Hm-hm? like wasn’t really paying attention.  Then he said something, and she blushed, and looked up to disagree with him, and saw me watching her.
She stopped for a second, startled, and then bent over his head, her neck was red!  She was blushing like mad!  Oh, she was so innocent… I wanted to find out what they were talking about, but they were talking too softly.

Before I knew it, she was done with him, and while I had been watching all this, the two women who were ahead of me had been taken, and once the man had paid her and she had thanked him for a generous tip, I guess, she looked at the book and blushed, and called, “Jennifer?”
I stood up and smiled, and she came out to meet me.
“Hi, I’m Kerry!” she said, and offered her hand.  I could hardly breathe, but she gave me a reasonably bright, slightly embarrassed smile, and led the way to her station.
“How would you like your hair cut?”
She had a soft voice, which I realized I had never heard before.  I had only imagined her voice; I thought it would be either low and muffled, or high and breathy.  But it was a medium voice, neither low nor high, and quiet, but clear. 
I was a little surprised; I had expected a remark about my hair, which was sort of customary.
“An inch or two off,” I began, and I could see her nodding at once, and her expression in the mirror was definitely one of approval.  I began to realize that she was not embarrassed; she had just been taken unawares.  “Just to get rid of the split ends, and stuff,” I continued awkwardly.
She fitted the cape that would keep hair fragments off my clothes on me, and began examining my hair.  I knew already that it was in bad shape, but she was very critical.
“There are some really bad splits … almost two inches!” she said.  This happened all the time; if you have long hair, hairdressers tend to lay a guilt trip on you.  She had almost forgotten that I was the girl who stalked her mercilessly.

She was very professional.  She knew exactly what she was doing; she shampooed the hair down, parted it in layers, put it up in clips, and started snipping confidently.  She was silent, and as I felt the pleasure of her competent fingers in my hair, my tension mounted higher and higher, until my nerves were humming.
“I’ve seen you in the library,” she said, finally, and smiled at me in the mirror.  I realized that she was really pretty, then; not just her legs, but her face.
“I know!” I exclaimed, turning red.
Minutes went by.
“How did you get into … hair … um …”
“Hair styling?”
“Yeah, hair styling?”
She paused, and brushed her bangs behind her ear and smiled again, blushing a little.
“Last summer, before I got in,” she explained.  “I thought I’d learn hair styling, just in case!”
I could see my eyes going wide.  I had thought she was an upperclassman, and a good student.  She just looked really intelligent, not at all the Beauty School type.

For a while, I lost myself in the sheer pleasure of having her fingers in my hair, trying not to stare at her face.  She offered to French Braid my hair, and I agreed.  Suddenly it was over, and I was paying her a modest tip, and I was on the sidewalk, walking back to my dorm.
This was very confusing.  I had gotten the urge to trim my precious long hair partly because I wanted her to notice me, and my hair was my best feature: long and silky and glossy.  But a professional hair stylist does not really notice hair, except as a part of their job, in a sort of objective way.  So I had taken a step in the wrong direction; instead of being noticed, she would now not notice me at all, because I would be, well, a customer.  It seemed very important to actually find out how she felt about me.  At this time, I had not yet thought out all the implications of how I felt about her.  I just knew that I liked her, despite not having spoken to her enough to know what sort of person she was.  In a sense, I had created a personality for her in my mind, and so far she seemed to fit it very closely, by some miracle.
The next day, I managed to escape my room so early that I wasn’t seen leaving by my nosy roommate, Lauren.  I had found that by taking my time getting some early morning coffee at the coffee bar in the student lounge, I could watch for Kerry walking in.
“A medium Latté, please.”
“Regular or Decaf?”
“Oh … Decaf.”
“A shot of anything?”
I was surprised.  No, I didn’t feel like any flavoring, and I said no thanks.  Then I saw a familiar blond head in the picture window.  The coffee girl (a religion major, I knew; she seemed nice, but we were not acquaintances, really) seemed to be taking longer than she needed.  Kerry seemed more aware of her surroundings than usual.  She normally walked with her head bent, deep in thought.  Today, instead of a backpack, she carried a shoulder bag, and she was wearing leggings, which was unusual.  Her hair was still wet from her shower, I presumed, and I felt a guilty pang when I realized I had gotten dressed without showering.  But wait; that was because I had shampooed after I got home yesterday.
Kerry.
A wave of warmth went through me, and I tried not to look as though I was blushing.  My blushes were not very noticeable, normally.  The coffee arrived, and I took a long sip, and tried not to look as if I was hurrying.  There she was, about thirty feet ahead of me.  I hungrily ate up the sight of her straight back, her wide shoulders, her gorgeous hamstrings, and the way she walked, which seemed sexy to me, even if it was a perfectly ordinary walk.  I realized that I was stripping her with my eyes, and felt a shock of amazement.  That’s when I realized how peculiar it was that I was developing what amounted to a physical attraction for another girl.  I wasn’t upset, but I was certainly disturbed.  I was still strongly attracted to guys, too; I often preened when one of them noticed me, but it was getting to the point where I was physically attracted to anyone who was at all good-looking.
Kerry had approached her usual table, and was putting her bag down and looking around.  I looked at my feet, and then looked up at her, just in time to notice that she had spotted me coming in behind her.  She was confused, and I could tell that she was beginning to feel awkward, being watched by me.  It was OK!  We were both acutely aware of each other, so I hadn’t yet become just a head with hair on it.
It was a few days later that we approached the tables from opposite directions at the same time, in the early afternoon.  I slowed very gradually, and we looked each other over.  She was wearing a very short denim skirt that made my pulse race; and she could see my approval even when I didn’t say a word, and glowed slightly with satisfaction as she laid down her books.  She was carrying them loose in her arm this afternoon.  She looked up again, and her eyes looked over my face, taking in everything.
She gave me a polite smile, and said, “Your hair looks real nice this afternoon!”
“Well … I guess,” I said, grasping for something more intelligent.
Her eyes drifted to my bare midriff, which had been left bare by the edge of my shirt creeping up.  I tugged down the retreating shirt edge, and she reddened slightly.
“Nice day,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied.  “Cold!”
She nodded, looking momentarily out of the window, then took out her text.  She sat, tucking her leg under her.  She looked lovely, like a mermaid, or something.
“Are you going to the choir program?” she asked, in her quiet voice.
“You going?” I asked.  She nodded vehemently, in a cute way.  I was going anyway, but it seemed a good idea to make her think I was going because of her.  “I guess I’ll go!”
“Great!” she said, sitting down, and giving me a bigger smile than she had given me before.

We didn’t get to talk much after that for a while.  I went to the choir concert, of course.  I had gone once before, the previous year, but I had been preoccupied with something else, and did not notice the choir very much.  But to my surprise, Kerry was  in the choir.  She was an alto, and I could tell by watching her face that she was completely on top of the music, and probably knew it all by heart.  It was a varied program, with lots of old familiar songs (unlike the previous concert, where it was all songs I had never heard in my life), and I enjoyed it.  Kerry kept looking for me, but she didn’t recognize me.
The weather warmed up, and I started wearing my short spring dresses and things, too, and so did Kerry.  I just loved all her clothes, and I loved her in them.  I began to dream about her every night, and I was thoroughly disturbed.   But my school work wasn’t suffering; I was keeping a B average in almost every course.  I normally did better in some courses, but not this semester, apparently.  Finally, it was actually the Friday before Spring Break, and I had not made any arrangements.  I got a note from the Dean of Students, telling me I could stay on campus if I wanted to.  I had just got an iced Latté from the Coffee Shop, and sat down to drink it, watching the other students meeting their families.  I ordered a hot sandwich, and sat down to wait.  It seemed too much work to go down to the Cafeteria to get lunch.  The long lounge was deserted, except for a few students anxiously calling on their cellphones.  I was surprised and startled to see Kerry at the other end of the lounge, reading what appeared to be a novel.  She looked up right at me, and smiled slightly, amused that I had noticed her.  Obviously she had spotted me as soon as I had got into the lounge.  Kerry had two bags with her.
I had been thinking about Spring Break almost all the time for the last week or so.  On the one hand, it gave me a week of privacy; I had begun to feel frustrated at my Roommate constantly being in our room, asking questions.  On the other hand, it would be a week without getting a look at Kerry, and I was, in a way, becoming addicted to looking at Kerry for so many minutes a day.  To be honest, I had begun to fantasize about her, and becoming … I don’t know … I didn’t have the vocabulary for explaining what I needed.
Presently, everyone was gone from the lounge, except Kerry, and of course, me.  I knew there had been a couple of students last year who had stayed for Spring Break, but they weren’t here this year.
After a decent interval, I got up and walked over to Kerry, leaving my books at my table.
“Hi!” said Kerry, in her low, somewhat muffled voice.  I wondered how she could sing so well with such a muffled voice.
“Your folks getting late?” I asked, with a smile.
She shrugged, and smiled back.
“Do they live far way?” I asked.
“Oh no, right here in town!”
I laughed.  “Why’re they late, then?”
“My mom doesn’t drive, and my Dad works late,” she explained.
“Oh, I see.”
“How about you?”
“I’m not going home for the break,” I said, suddenly realizing that this would seem interesting to her.
“No?  Your parents traveling, or …?”
“It’s too far; I’m from California,” I explained.
“No family close to here?”
“A few in the Washington, D.C. area, and one in Atlanta,” I replied.
“Oh no, so far away!”
How painfully sweet her voice was!  I was already prepared to be her slave, but now I was almost swooning with love and admiration for this lovely, simple, charming girl.  I was so lost in my private thoughts that it almost slipped by me that she was unhappy with the idea of leaving me alone on campus.  She continued to gaze at me in distress.
“Don’t worry; I stayed behind last Spring Break too.  It’s fine; they have food, and everything!”
“Still, …” she began, her smile fading.  She seemed to make up her mind about something, but it wasn’t her way to discuss her idea until she was sure it was going to work.
It was now about six, and already quite dark.  Only the two of us were in the lounge.  I would normally have gone to my room, to clean up after my roommate left.  (She normally left a huge mess.)  But I was keeping Kerry company, though we were not talking at all.  I had given up on conversation, and pulled out a Manga novel I had picked up to read.  (My roommate had lots of them, and she had asked me to read them any time I wanted.)  Kerry watched me, but I carefully didn’t stare back.  A few years ago I had realized that I tended to stare, and had made a conscious effort to be careful in the staring department.
“Then, I guess you’re a sophomore?”
“Yeah; and you?”
“I just joined this Fall … Freshman,” she said, looking right into my eyes.  She had lovely light blue-grey eyes.  “What’s your major?”
“Undeclared,” I said.  “I’m thinking of Art, though my family wants me to do something like, physics, or chemistry.”  I shrugged.  It was not my favorite topic of conversation.  “And you?”
“Psychology, and English, maybe,” she said.  I was surprised; she didn’t look as if she were interested enough in people to want to do psychology.  English would be fine.  She spoke grammatically, and I had decided (based on very little evidence) that she was articulate and communicated well.
My golden girl
I was getting hungry again, and a little tired.  I was just smiling at her, and she smiled back.  We were both seated close to each other on the nifty armchairs they had just put in that year.  I was trying not to look at her legs, which looked fantastic.  She had on a medium-length skirt and a plaid shirt and a knitted vest, and looked perfect to my eyes.
“If I asked my folks, would you like to come home with me?” she asked, blushing.  “There’s plenty of room.  And you could come back here whenever you wanted, to get anything.”
“Oh.  Um …” I was struck speechless, though I had anticipated a similar offer for a while.  every nerve in my body wanted me to say, yes, yes, sure, why not?  I’ll go get my stuff right away!  But I simply looked around, confused.  “Just think about it,” she said, sounding worried.  “I should give you some time to, like, decide whether you want to come home with us.  Your folks might be upset, maybe?”
“Oh no, not at all.  I just have to ask my Dad, that’s all!”
“OK,” she said, nodding.  “Oh, here they come … that’s my Dad, in the pickup,” she said, blushing.

Like Kerry, her father was big made, not just tall.  He had a slow smile, and sandy hair carelessly brushed into a sort of side part, jeans and a denim jacket over a shirt with a fine plaid pattern, which did not look like the usual lumberjack uniform.  He was not quite six feet tall, but looked all of 250 pounds of solid muscle.  With him was bright-eyed, blue-eyed, dark-haired kid who studied me with interest.  Kerry had introduced him as her brother Kevin.  He was slight and tall, and looked about twelve.
I had shaken hands with Kerry’s father Larry, which I thought a name that suited him well.  He had immediately called home about the possibility of a visitor, and Kerry’s mother had agreed.  While Dad was loading up Kerry’s bags into the back of the pickup, which was a nice new one, freshly washed, Kerry, Kevin and I went to my room to pack some clothes for me.
“Do you have to, like, tell anyone?”
I had to tell the Residence office that I would be gone, so that the Cafeteria could plan their meals.  I stepped into the office, and the lady in charge said she had just been on her way to my room.  “Everyone who was planning to stay over the break seems to have gone with a classmate,” she said, “and I was going to offer to take you home with me!”
“Kerry has offered to let me visit for the week,” I began.
“My folks said yes,” Kerry said solemnly.
“That would be fine,” said the lady, Mrs Boyle, evidently comfortable with Kerry’s respectable appearance.

It was odd, having Kerry in my room.  Kevin prowled around, not talking, but checking everything out.  Kerry occasionally called out to him not to touch anything, and instead of getting indignant he simply nodded.  He flashed an occasional grin at me, and I could see the way Kerry’s eyes lit up on his face, too.  They seemed too perfect to be human beings.
Kerry was casting a critical eye over my clothes, the few of them that were clean, and I was getting embarrassed.  “Bring a swimsuit,” she was saying with a smile.  “They’ve got the pool ready already!”  This was embarrassing, because my only swimsuit was indecently revealing.
“I don’t have one,” I said, keeping the swimsuit hidden.
“Oh,” said Kerry.  “I have a couple, but …”
Kevin grinned.  Obviously Kerry’s suits would not fit me.  I had never worn anyone else’s suit, and I didn’t think it was a normal thing to do.  Kevin simply shook his head and pursed his lips, and Kerry grinned and shrugged.  “I don’t like to swim that much,” I said.

After the bags had all been loaded, and Kevin offered to ride in the truck bed, Kerry got in next to her father, and I got in, and I pulled the cab door shut.  I had just learned that their family name was Lynch.  For the first time I was seated right next to Kerry, feeling her arm along mine.  She felt warm and a tiny bit sweaty, but she smelled perfect, wonderful, healthy young girl.  She turned and smiled at me.  When we were seated, we were the same height.  We giggled together, and I thought I could never be happier than I was just then.  My hand wanted to grab her hand and squeeze.  I am not an affectionate, touchy-feely person, but at that moment, I was afraid that my sheer joy would frighten Kerry who sat next to me.
Unable to resist my urge, I just tapped Kerry’s hand, which was lying on her thigh.  She turned her head, her face radiant with a gleeful smile.  She gently tapped my hand, which was now on my own thigh.  We traded taps as her dad drove along, down the street that led to the College, into the major road that led through the residential parts of the town, then turned off into a suburb, past a strip with department stores and supermarkets and my favorite ice cream store.  Tap!  I tapped her back, and I felt her silently shaking with laughter.  I quickly turned my hand palm up, and waited.  It was insane; I had hardly had a conversation with her, and here we were … I did not even have words for what we were doing.
“This is our street,” she said softly in my ear, and I looked to get a good view.  It was an unremarkable street with houses spaced well apart, and SUVs in almost every driveway.  Then we were in a more modest part of the same street, and we turned into a wooded lot, and she put her hand in mine and quickly squeezed, and let go.
Kevin jumped off the truck bed, and by the time I had got out, and helped Kerry out, savoring the feel of her arm in my hand, a short woman with dark curly hair, and Kerry’s lovely smile stepped out of the shadows, and came straight to me, and gave me a quick hug, before I could gather my wits together.
“It’s good to have you with us,” she said, in a quicker, crisper version of Kerry’s speech.  The little family of four had surrounded me, and were blinding me with the brightness of their smiles, and their welcome.  My baggage was taken inside, and I was bustled into a cosy little room upstairs, and shown the bathroom, and given a towel, in case I wanted to take a shower or a bath.  “You can take a nice long soak, if you want,” said Kerry’s mother Kaitlyn.  “Kerry can shower in our bath; we have two,” she explained.

I was determined to protect the reputation of our family.  I had heard only fragments of our family history, but it was clear that my father’s family had its shameful secrets.  But in the US, we were eminently respectable, and I knew that if I was invited to shower, it was best that I took up the offer.  My nerves were humming with excitement for which I did not have a name, and I almost shamed myself with the lasciviousness with which I conducted my ablutions, to put it delicately.  I decided to go down to supper in a lovely dress I owned, which I had only worn for my junior prom in high school, but which was quite simple in design.  I had also decided not to wear any underwear, I don’t really know why.
There was a soft knock on my door, and I called out to whoever it was to come in.  It was Kerry, dressed only in an orange T shirt and boxer shorts.  She saw me in my elegant clothes, and drew a long breath.
“Wow … you’re all dressed up for dinner!”
“I …”  To be frank, I didn’t know how to reply without sounding either rude or condescending.  “I could change,” I offered.  “Are you, like, dressed for bed?”
“I kinda forgot you were here,” she admitted, blushing.  “I’ll go dress!  I’ll be right back!”
Before I could say anything, she was gone.  She came back shortly, dressed in a skirt and a knitted top, looking quite decent.  She did wear carpet slippers, which seemed reasonable; I was wearing a plain pear of slippers too.  She led the way to the stairs, and we went downstairs together.  The table was laid, and Dad and Kevin were seated, waiting for us.  Mrs Lynch smiled approval at Kerry and my dress, and waved us to two of the remaining seats, and brought out a simple meal of roast beef and potatoes, and sundry vegetables.
At home, surrounded by her family, Kerry was far more relaxed than I had seen her at College.  In a few moments, I had learned that she was in the choir, the band, the swim team, and was interested in music and athletics.  Her legs were no accident; she described how she had to wake at four in the morning every day, swim the prescribed number of laps, then clean up and come to classes, then get an early supper, and head off to band practice, then choir practice.  She evidently had few friends, and most of those were in choir, band, and swim team.
Kerry was her family favorite.  Dad, Mom and Kevin all doted on her.  Once she had given a full report of all that she was doing currently, they turned to me, naturally.
“Well,” I began, “I play in the orchestra, violin.”
“You do?  I tried out for orchestra, but I couldn’t get in!”
I shrugged.  I colored; you had to be fairly good to get in, but my conviction that Kerry was perfect in every way warred with this information.  “Maybe you were having a bad day,” I suggested.
“Uh uh,” she contradicted.  “I played my best!  Maybe I should have tried for viola.”
My eyes went wide.  I happened to know that we only had two violas, and they wanted a third.  “If you try out, you’re sure to get in,” I told her.  I explained that we were short.
“If you had brought your violin, you and Kerry could have played for us!”
I looked at Kerry, who was seated across from me, and we blushed together.  My heart was beating so hard, I thought I would die.  I could see Kerry was also feeling something equally strange.  I was suddenly acutely aware that under my dress, I was naked.  I crossed my legs, and pressed them tightly together.

Somehow we managed to finish supper, and Kerry came upstairs, into my room.  We seemed unable to avoid looking into each other’s eyes.  We sat side by side on the edge of my bed.
“We’re going to have fun,” she said softly to me.
I wanted to say: I’m so happy, I think I’m going to cry!  And it was as though she could hear my thoughts.  Her smile disappeared, and she gazed into my eyes, and I looked into her light blue ones, that seemed open right into her soul.  I struggled to smile, to lighten the mood.
“You must be tired,” Kerry said, sliding off the bed.  I slid off, and my dress was pulled up, accidentally, so that anyone could have seen all of my private parts, but Kerry had just glanced away, and I quickly slapped my skirts down over my thighs.  She turned round and only saw me smoothing my dress down, blushing bright red.
“Good night,” I mumbled, and desperately put my arms around her, and pulled her close.
It was heaven.  I never wanted to let go.  And Kerry hugged me back fiercely.  We held each other close, and began to rock to and fro at the same moment, and I held my cheek against her cheek, and I said, “Oh Kerry!”
It seemed like an hour passed this way, but it could have only been a minute.  Kerry held both my arms in her big hands, and looked at me, her eyes shining.

Presently  I was in bed.  It was higher off the ground than I was accustomed to, but the mattress was soft and comfortable.  It seemed of a piece with the entire family: warm, comfortable, and friendly.  I must have mumbled something when we parted, but my mind was not functioning properly.  I was still completely off balance, vibrating with all the feelings that were going through me.  It was as though I was afraid to let this girl out of my sight.
But I felt completely safe, as though nothing could harm me.  Though I felt greedy for her company, I didn’t feel that she would leave me all alone.  I felt almost physically that she was close by.
It was a long time until I could drop off to sleep, and I remember the dreams I had very clearly.  I was floating, face up, and I could will myself higher by simply tightening my body.  I did it rhythmically, and I would float up, and then float down, float higher on the rises, and falling less and less each time, until I was flying above the trees, vibrating with pleasure; somehow I could see below me, even though I was facing up, and I flew over the lakes, and up the faces of mountains, until I exploded with happiness.
I woke up, needing to go to the bathroom.  I opened my door, and the hallway was dimly lit, and I found the bathroom, and did my business, squinting my eyes against the glare of the light.  I was tempted to look in on Kerry, but I was afraid of being seen, so I reluctantly returned to my room, and tried to sleep again, but without success.

Soon it was morning, and I heard birds singing outside the window.  I felt fuzzy-headed, but I felt wonderful!  I slipped off the bed, and cautiously looked out my door.  I saw the grey light of an overcast morning through the hall window, and walked up to it, and saw a large pool.  And someone was slowly swimming: it was Kerry.
My heart began to race; I had to get a better view.  I went back in the visitors’ room, and found my contacts, put them on, and hurried back to the big window, and drew aside the curtains, and stared.
She wore just a one-piece deep red racing suit with a T-back, and she was swimming lengths steadily.  I watched hungrily, devouring the sight of her as she made an effortless turn, and continued to swim.  I slowly slipped downstairs, found the door that led out to the pool, and quietly took a seat a little distance away, where I could watch her without her noticing.
At this stage of things, I was acutely aware of her body: the sheer athleticism of the girl, the strength in her arms and her back, and most of all in her amazing legs, the beauty of her motion in the water.  I just knew enough ab out swimming that I could tell that her form wasn’t perfect, but … she swam effortlessly.  Everything else she did, she did with determination and careful attention.  But in the water, she was a sprite; it was her element.  For evermore I would imagine her in the water.
It was cool in the shadows in the early morning, and I pulled my nightie tight about me and looked down at my skinny, sallow-skinned legs, and briefly felt envious.  Steam had been rising from the water surface, but as the sun hit the walls, and was reflected into the water, Kerry seemed to glow.  She turned, and saw me, and her face burst into a smile of pure pleasure.
“Hi!” she called, in a high, sweet voice, a contrast to her usual calm, low tone.  I just waved, smiling back.  She immediately turned on her back, and I was afraid she would crash into the side of the pool, and hurried to the water and crouched down, and my worry must have shown on my face.  “What’s the matter?” she called, having flipped over to make the turn, and having resumed her backstroke.
“I thought you might hit the edge of the pool!”
“Oh no,” she explained, “I can see, like this, see?”  Obviously she could, so I relaxed.  “Just four more, now,” she said, concentrating on her counting, and speeding up.  A minute or so later, she clung to the gutter casually, blowing out water, and grinning her toothy grin at me.  “Wanna come on in?” she asked, gesturing with her hand.  I shook my head, blushing.  We’re flirting, I thought in amazement; it seemed so natural, and I had slipped into this new relationship so thoughtlessly.  But she was so utterly innocent, she doesn’t realize it yet.  She swam closer, and pulled herself out of the pool, and walked over to me.
“So, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Well, about my stroke!  Am I swimming well?”
I blushed, as she continued to grin.  It was the sort of banter athletes used on their non-jock friends, and I was completely at a loss.  My friends were complete nobodies; awkward, shallow socialites.  I stared at her legs, as she wiped the water off her face with her hands.  Her legs were perfectly smooth, shaven free of her body hair, and my mouth was watering with my desire to bite her, to hold her legs, to crush myself against them.  I shook my head; I wasn’t going to get in the water in my sheer nightie.  I had to get in my room quick, and get decent.  She held out her hand to pull me up, and I took it.  We were close, and once again we were looking into each other’s eyes, and her smile softened.  She began to walk toward the house, and I walked with her.  I felt awkward, naked under the thin cotton nightgown I had worn.
She followed me to my room, and inside, and I realized that she was as mindlessly attracted to me as I was to her.  She was toweling herself dry, and once we got inside, she backed out again.  “You’ve got toothpaste and all that?”  I said I had.  “Ok, see you in a bit!”

When I got to the bathroom, Kerry was just coming out, and she held the door open for me, and I could see Kevin looking down the hall through his door, observing that the girls had taken possession of the toilet facilities.  “You’ll have to wait,” called out Kerry, and the little guy blushed and closed his door.  I hurried inside and began brushing my teeth.  I didn’t want to waste time showering; I’d shower at night.  I checked my face carefully; it was the same as always, except that my eyes seemed a little more … what’s the word?  Piercing sounds wrong; they just seemed to have more character.  My eyes look quite American, though some of my other features might be considered oriental.  My lips, and my mouth, generally, looked … actually quite acceptable.  Anyway, I thought, Kerry seemed to like me the way I was.  I carefully did my eyebrows –a departure from habit– and just barely touched up my lips.  I put my hair in a ponytail, which emphasized how long it was, and brought out the shape of my face, which was heart-shaped.  I smiled at myself, thinking how vain I was getting.
I hurried to change into light spring-time playclothes: shorts, crop-top and shirt, and canvas shoes, and went downstairs.  Only Mrs. Lynch was there.
“Hello, dear!  Did you sleep well?”  I replied that I certainly had.  “Sit down, and I’ll fix you whatever you’d like; pancakes?  Waffles?  Oatmeal?  Eggs?”
“Just waffles would be great, Mrs. Lynch!”
She got to work right away, and came to sit and talk to me.  “Kerry has a music class this morning.  You can go with her, or you can stay and play with Kevin!  The music teacher lives in a small condo, so there’s not a lot of space there.”
I was tempted to ask to go, but my brain was getting too clever.  You’ve got to give her a chance to miss you, it was saying.  I wanted her to have such a need to be with me that she couldn’t concentrate on her music!  I realized that I want to completely enslave my new friend Kerry, almost as badly as I wanted to be her slave; in all other respects, my brain was behaving very sluggishly.
“Maybe I’ll just stay here and read, or …”
Mrs. Lynch was nodding.  She said Kevin would be around, just in case I felt like doing something.  He gets bored, she said, and I’m glad you’re here to provide a little excitement!  I replied that I didn’t know how exciting I would be, and we got to batting the topic back and forth, until the subject of it clattered noisily downstairs, burst into the breakfast nook, and blushed, seeing me.  His smile made me warm; everyone in the family made me feel good.  I still remembered Kevin smiling at me from across the dinner table, after he had told us an interminable story about some game of roller hockey, and we had all kidded him about the details of it.  It was the only time Kerry had made a mischievous dig at anyone.  Clearly the two siblings were very close, and fond of each other.
Kerry came down soon afterwards, with her violin case in her arms.  She put it away, and smiled at me.  It was a mixture of a friendly smile for a favored guest, and a tinge of something more: a shared secret.  Just a tinge; nobody could have possibly noticed it except me!

“I gotta go to violin lessons,” she said.  “I’m gonna take my viola with me.”
“Good,” I said, wishing I had agreed to go to the lesson with her.  I so badly wanted to show off to her, now that I knew she could play.
“Will you be ok?”
“Yup.  I have a book to read, and I’ll be fine!”
“Are you sure?  You don’t want to be reading on your spring break, do you?”
“Oh, sure; I’ll read for a while, and then explore down your street, until you get back!”


Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Elly, Episode 12

.
The process of getting Helen back to Primrose and settled in was traumatic in the extreme.  She could not be comfortable in the enormous, ornate home; her upbringing had been austere by the standards of Maryssa’s family, and she said the house looked like a church.  And she could not enjoy all the delicious food she had appreciated just weeks before.  In desperation, Elly was assigned to take Helen grocery shopping.  “Anything she likes,” Peggy told her, “just get a balanced selection.  The kids need to eat too.”
“Would you like to come grocery shopping with me?” Elly asked Helen cheerily, on the weekend.  She had just brought Morgan to spend the day with the family.  James, especially, liked Morgan a lot, and Morgan had consented to take the day off.
“Sure,” said Helen.  Elly grabbed her purse, and she and Helen set out in the enormous van.  “A bit big for a shopping trip, ain’t it?” Helen smiled.
“Well, don’t look at me,” Elly laughed.  “You bought this so we could go out to help with the tornadoes last summer in Kansas!”
Helen’s eyes grew wide.  “There were tornadoes?”
“Uh huh!”
Helen mulled that over for a while.
“Do I go about doing goody-goody stuff like that?”
“Yep.  Nobody expects you to keep on doing it, of course.”
She was silent for so long, Elly looked around at her, and was startled to see a big tear roll down her cheek.
“What’s up, now?”
“It’s awful,” she blubbered, “I just can’t live up to all this … crap that I used to do!”
Elly cleared her throat.  Tears of sympathy pricked at her own eyes, making speech a little difficult.  “Well, Aunt Helen, if you …”
“Don’t say Aunt Helen!  It makes me crazy!”
“Oh, sorry.  I was just saying … if you lose your memory, you’ve gotta expect some crap.  The way I see it, a brain tumor is like a lightning strike.  If you come out of it alive, you either thank god, or wish you hadn’t come out of it.  Know what I mean?”
“You’re just confusing me.  You’re no help at all!”
They were in the parking lot of the supermarket now.  Elly realized that she was escorting a sort-of aunt who was a bit of a social liability.  It was too late to do anything about it now, though.
“It’s so funny; it’s like we’re the same age!”
Helen’s face grew stony.  “How old am I s’posed to be?”
“Forty one, forty-two in a couple of days, I believe!”
Her face crumpled up, but she didn’t cry.  She shook her head in bewilderment.  Elly wondered what was going through her mind.  Was she bitter about her age?  Was she still railing against fate for having stricken her this way?  She suppressed a sigh.  It would have been so much easier if Helen had retained some of her patience and her wisdom.
“Did I have a happy life?  Not successful and famous and all that.  I mean happy, like … did I enjoy it?”
“Sure,” Elly asserted.  “You had a great ol’ time.”
“Good!  Because I sure hate this part of it!”
“Don’t you like shopping with me?”
Helen angrily wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed loudly, “you’re sweet.  I don’t want to make you mad at me!”
“I’m not mad,” Elly said gently, “I know what you’re up against.  You’ve just gotta learn that you’ve got all of us on your side.  It’s just going to take a little while before we know what kind of stuff you like, and what you hate.  Now we know you don’t like vans, we can get bicycles, or whatever!”
“Oh, it’s not the van, silly!  It’s just … I want to keep Maryssa happy, and … Suresh gets mad at me ’cause I don’t know wiring and stuff … it gets to me after a while.”
“Jeeze, I’ll beat the crap out of that Suresh.  The nerve!”
“No, oh no!  He’s helping put that house together for me and Maryssa!”
“But he should know that you can’t possibly have a memory of housing construction.  That was something you learned when I was eleven or twelve—that’s recent.  All the other stuff you learned when you were younger.  The most recent stuff is what you’re most likely to forget.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes.  So you can walk and talk, the things you learned as a kid.”
“So that’s why I talk like … like a teenager.”
“You noticed that too?”
Helen nodded.  “I tried to talk all adult-like, but—it was too hard.  Then I thought, what the heck.  I’ll talk the way it comes easy, and I’ll get the details later.”
“Good for you!  Wanna come out with me now?”
“Yes.”
They went in, and Helen looked around at the shelves with considerable interest.
“So, what would you like to eat?”
“Oh, I don’t know; what have you got?”
“No, I mean, what shall we buy, to take home and get Bridget to fix?”
A thoughtful look came into Helen’s eye.
“Hmm.  I really like those hamburgers,” she said softly.  “Can we make hamburgers in the house?”
“Sure!  Okay,” she said, leading the way to where the hamburger patties were on display.  “What else?”  She efficiently snagged some rolls to go with it, and cheese and pickles.
“Hot dogs?”
“Fine.”
Soon the cart was piled high with soda, ice cream, and the wherewithal to make grilled-cheese sandwiches, popped corn, pizza and smores.
“You sure like a lot of junk food,” Elly said, looking over the cart a little doubtfully.  “How about salad?”
“I hate salad,” Helen said.  Elly looked at her reproachfully, and she said, okay a little salad would be all right.
“What about chicken?”  She liked that, she said.  She liked roasted chicken, with a lot of garlic.  That was the first sign of something in line with Helen’s adult tastes that Elly could remember.  As far as she could tell, some inhibitions that seem to have made Helen a sweet-natured child had been removed.  Elly mourned for the Helen who had been shaped by those experiences.  It had been the fire of sorrow and grief that had forged the Helen they all loved.  If it had been those bitter experiences that had been inadvertently removed, what was left, presumably, was the raw material, the dull, untempered base metal that the universe had started with, to make its masterpiece that had been Helen.
“Are you getting tired?” Helen wanted to know.  She liked Elly, and she was concerned about her.  The universal concern for others that had driven Helen was now restricted to just a few individuals.
“No, I’m great; Helen, you are taking your diabetes pills, right?”
“Oh yes,” she said, wincing.  “Every night, at supper.”
“Good.”
“They taste horrible!”
“Even better.  You know they’re good for you, then.”  Helen nodded, wide-eyed.
Helen was acutely embarrassed when Elly paid for the food.  “I should pay for it,” she said, red-faced, “but I don’t have money right now.”  It broke Elly’s heart to see the shifty-eyed teenager in the 40-year old body.
“We’ll find a way for you to make money,” she promised.

Helen related best to Elly and Trish, and a little less to Sita and Lalitha.  She adored the children, and was partial to little Jeannie, who was thoroughly amused by the development, though Peggy made her feel guilty about enjoying others’ misfortunes.  “The poor woman has lost her memory, for heaven’s sake!  How can you laugh about such a thing?”
“But she’s so funny!” Jeannie cried.  “She wants me to take her to the mall!  That’s hilarious!”
“So take her!  Take Erin, too.”
“Oh, good call!  I’ll say yes, if Erin can come along!”

Helen watched bemused as Elly took over teaching the children the violin.  It was awkward to lead the lessons with Helen watching, but she did it.  Helen could hardly believe how well the kids played, especially Erin.  “Do it again!” she said over and over, listening to simple tunes like the Twinkles until the children were bored to tears.  But it was an education for her, and they had to let her watch.  Elly hoped she would ask to be taught, but she never did.  Everyone could see that she loved music.  She went up to watch Lalitha do the classes at least once a week, hiding out in the hall.  Unlike the old Helen, she was full of energy, eager to work.  She worked a couple of days at the instrument factory, learning laboriously from scratch.  But as she had with Suresh, she learned by watching, and was very quickly handy with a spokeshave and a chisel.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Elly, Episode 11

It was several days before Elly called Morgan.
“Why didn’t you call?  I thought you’d never call!”  Morgan was almost in tears.  “I waited, and waited, and waited!”
Elly felt sorry for her, but a little amused.  She chuckled, unleashing a further stream of reproach, but it was more grumbling now, not the frightened whining it had started out as.  Morgan wanted to see her again, and she said so a half-dozen times.  It was as though her longing for Elly had made her stupid.
They arranged to meet in one of the City parks.  Morgan wanted to be careful not to meet anyone she knew, but that was such a small circle, it didn’t matter.  She was not out, and she was deathly afraid of being humiliated, but she had a dislike of bars and dark places.  Her college years had been miserable, because her friends had preferred those kinds of places rather than the quiet coffee-houses that she preferred.  Elly dragged all this out of her as they sat, watching children play, and dogs running after frisbees.
They knew many things about each other, but there were lots of gaps, and now they eagerly explored their pasts.  She was delighted to hear that Elly was, in fact, a musician.  She had been suspended from her college at the end of her sophomore year, having failed half her classes.  Now she was making her way back, and had completed her Junior year in Philly.
“Oh, go back,” Morgan urged.  “Penn State is such a tiny place!  Grad school at Penn State is all right, but a B.A. …”
Elly shook her head, looking away.  She did not want to go back, to be thrown in with Tommy.  It hurt too much.  She was beginning to sort out her feelings, and she knew that being around Tommy would not help.  Not if Tommy was still the way she had been while they were in Kansas.  She had come a long way, but Elly had matured beyond her twin and former lover.  Was it too late for them?  Elly looked at Morgan, who was watching her intently.  Elly sighed.  If Tommy, a new, settled, Tommy, came to her today, she could never turn her face from her.  It was never too late.
“It’s Tommy, isn’t it?”
Elly nodded.  “She’ll always be there,” she said.  “But I’ll just … have to give her some of myself, that’s all.”
Morgan only nodded.  Being in love with a woman was something she still could just barely understand at an intellectual level.  As a student, there was nothing to be done; one went to classes, and one was in love.  But now?  She dared not think of the implications of keeping a relationship with an upper-middle-class girl.  Working-class girls didn’t think of such things.
“But … I guess I have to do something,” Elly said.  “I remember a letter from school—my old school, I mean—sitting on the table downstairs.”
“Your folks keep letters on a table?”
“Well, we’re pretty disorganized at the moment,” Elly admitted.  “There’s three families living there at the moment, and me, too; I don’t really belong to any of them, except that … oh!  It’s too complicated!”
“I thought she was your aunt?”
“Well, okay, she is.”  Elly decided to leave it at that.  She had been Elly’s mother’s young lover when Elly was born; “aunt” was as good as anything else.  “But … me, or my mother should deal with those things, shouldn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Morgan agreed.
“Morgan, why don’t you look for work?”
Morgan took a deep breath.  “See, I have loans.  They’re unbelievable loans, and my Dad can’t help me pay them.  And the moment I get work, I …”
“But they’re very liberal about college loans.  Have you really found out how much you owe them?”
“Oh yes.  It’s fifty grand.”
“No, no, I mean, a month?”
Morgan looked at her strangely.  “What does it matter?  If it’s a lot, I can’t afford it, if it’s a little, I’ll never get it paid off!”
Elly held her head.  She slowly and patiently tried to explain how it worked to the deeply suspicious and frightened Morgan, and by the time she had made some headway, it was time to hurry home to make Hugh his snacks.
“That big baby,” Elly muttered, “he ought to be able to make his own sandwiches.”
“Oh, I’m sure he could,” Morgan said, “but I won’t let him.  He’s had such a miserable childhood, I decided he shouldn’t suffer for it while I’m around.”
“He’s a perfectly happy boy!  What makes you think he’s suffering?”
“Oh, he is,” said Morgan.  “He lost his mother when he was barely four.”
“But you lost her, too!”
Morgan shrugged.  “Still … he was just a baby.”

Elly had brought up the issue of her last year of college with Maryssa.  First of all she had to explain all the concepts to Maryssa, who was perfectly willing to listen.  Then, while Maryssa made tea, she had to explain the alternatives.  An hour into the thing, they had solved it, or rather Elly had solved it, while Maryssa tried to understand the solution.  She would apply to a number of schools, and see who took her.  If all else failed, she would apply to Penn State, Main Campus, and endure a year there.  She hurried off to Becky’s office, to get help from there before they closed and went home for the day.  If anyone was there, they’d stay and work with her until the job was finished.
It was hard to work with Hugh all day, with his awkward shows of friendship, and lust after his sister all night.  He was a sweet fellow, if a little spoilt, but the quarrelsome affection between the two siblings was touching.  Setting up a time to meet together with Morgan was awkward.  It involved getting moved to night hours, so that her daytime was free.  But it was an awkward dance, because Hugh sometimes moved his hours to match Elly, which meant that Morgan and she would not have the house to themselves any more.
A couple of times, she got Hugh to take her home again, and he happily obliged, and the three of them visited together.  But it was a terrible strain on Morgan who could barely keep up the appearance of simply chatting with her brother’s friend.  The second time it seemed a little easier, but when Hugh asked Elly over lunch whether she was attracted to his sister, it scared her silly.
“Well, of course,” she had said, “if I wasn’t, that means she’s ugly!”
“Huh,” he said, “she’s as cute as a button, and no mistake!  I’m surprised you’re not all over her!”
Elly nearly choked.  In fact, she did choke, and Hugh had to thump her on the back.  “You’re not helping, Hugh,” she remonstrated with him.  “Do you want me to be all over her?”
He looked at her thoughtfully.  “I don’t think she’d like that very much,” he said, finally, and that was that.


Elly was accepted within a week.  Aunt Helen was back, and she approved heartily.  She had been admitted to Penn, and she had gone in for an interview.  Almost all her credits had transferred, but some of the course work would not satisfy the music major at the conservatory.  She would have to be in school an additional year, unless she changed her major.
“You should really stick with music,” her interviewer said.  It was a very charismatic young woman with piercing eyes, and Elly squirmed under her intent gaze.  “From all your credentials, you are an amazing violist, and you will never find a better place to finish your studies.  Never, nowhere.  We are simply the best, especially for someone of your talent.”
That afternoon Elly was to play for a professor in the music department, and she felt very nervous.  Aunt Helen had chickened out of coming with her, and so, of all people, Aunt Maryssa was with her.  Still, there were other things she could do, including music education, or a major in English or psychology.
They were treated to lunch in the ancient cafeteria of the university—or at least, one of them—and then Maryssa accompanied Elly back to the music department.  The conservatory was separate, this was simply the department of music.
The professor was an older woman, slim, grey-haired, businesslike.  She inspected Elly’s violin, simply to give her time to get back her composure, Elly realized.
“This is from Helen Nordstrom!”
“Yes,” agreed Elly, politely, belatedly adding “Ma’am.”
“How much did it cost?” she asked, and Elly could see Maryssa brighten up.  Here was a question she could answer!  Before she did, Elly hurried with,
“It was a gift.  She knew my mother in college, you see!”
“I see!”
There was a lovely piano, and Elly gave her her music.  Elly, of course, was completely at ease playing, and there was nothing except the highest praise for it.  The professor must have been disappointed with Elly’s underwhelmed reaction to her praise.
“You should have joined the conservatory long ago,” she said reproachfully.  “Why did you hold off until now?”
She wasn’t aware of Elly’s history, so Elly recited it again, and to her great satisfaction the professor nodded all the way, totally sympathetic.  Elly told her that she had wanted a well-rounded education, and the professor agreed that she had certainly acquired that.  It was only her major that was left to take care of.
“You’re in!” exulted Maryssa, as soon as they were on their own.
“I know!  I don’t know what to do!”  Elly had, in fact, been offered conditional acceptance to the conservatory.  It was a great temptation, especially if she planned a future as a music performer.
But there were other things to think of.  What would happen to her and Morgan?  Would Morgan be able to support her, would she have to support Morgan?  What future did she have as a performer?  Could she earn enough money to have a family?
Elly decided to take Helen into her confidence.  To Elly’s surprise, she was very pleased with it.  “I love Tommy dearly,” she said sincerely, “and I would love you two to be together.  But I don’t know when she will be ready, darling, or even if she ever will be.  Morgan sounds like a sweet girl in every way!”
“Aunt Helen, could you come with me and meet her?  We need to plan!  And she … I don’t think she has plans at all!”
Helen wore a wig.  It was a short medium-brown wig she had used before, which disguised the shape of her face.  She put it on in a restroom of the railway station, and they headed out to the park where Morgan was waiting for them.
Elly introduced Helen to her friend with pride.  She might be in disguise, but Elly adored her adopted aunt, and delighted to introduce her to her friends.  “This is my aunt Elaine,” she said, as they had agreed beforehand, and aunt Elaine, this is Morgan!  Morgan, she knows all about you, so you needn’t be shy!”
Helen had hugged Morgan, finding her all Elly had promised, and more.  The girl had awkward hair, but her eyes and her mouth were expressive, and her manners polite and considerate.
“I’ve got a place at Penn!” Elly said happily, “and I can go to the conservatory, if I like!”  She explained quickly and succinctly to Morgan what the alternatives were, precisely what she had wanted Helen there to do!  Helen simply sat and listened, smiling, watching Morgan.
Morgan was happy for Elly, and though she was pleased to meet Helen, and touched that Morgan’s opinion was sought, she wondered why.
“It seems like you could take either one, doesn’t it?” she said simply.  “The conservatory is more prestigious, but it would cost more, wouldn’t it?  But cost is not a worry, is it?”
Helen smiled.  “We-el,” she said, “we can’t afford to pay the fees; Elly would need to apply for scholarships just like anybody else.”
“Oh yes,” Elly said quickly.  “And loans, and everything.”
“Oh dear,” said Morgan, thinking she understood.  “That makes a big difference.  Do you have any idea what the fees are?”
Elly started to reply, but Helen saw the problem.  Morgan did not yet see where she came in.
“Morgan, what are your plans?”
“My plans?”
It took just a few more seconds to make Morgan see that Elly wanted to be part of Morgan’s future, and that she was willing to accommodate her needs.  As tactfully as she could, Helen explained how partners had to made adjustments to their own plans for the sake of each other, and Elly was bringing Morgan in on the plan.  Normally, college was something a girl did based on nothing but her own aspirations.  But Elly was doing this because of the complexity of what she saw as Morgan’s family obligations.
Morgan was stunned.  She had put far less serious thought into her own plans than Elly had.  Forty minutes later, a quite flexible plan emerged.  Elly would finish her degree with a major in music as well as a minor in English, and she would try to obtain secondary certification in English as well.  Morgan would look for work, and when Elly graduated, if they still felt the same way about each other, they would find an apartment together and move in.  Morgan’s family need not know that she lived with a lover.  If necessary, Elly could find the apartment by herself, until Morgan found the courage to reveal her plans to her father and brother.  Elly would look into a plan to study at the conservatory that would work around her traditional degree.  It possible, she would do that, if not, she wouldn’t.  It was part of Helen’s plan to point that out, to impress on Morgan that sacrifice would be necessary, and compromise.  If they lived together, they could help each other financially, including helping each other pay their college loans.
The major achievement was to get Morgan thinking about moving out of her home.  As long as she lived there, she would not get a job, and the longer she didn’t get a job, the less likely she would find one.

Elly knew that Helen had scored a hit with Morgan.  Helen had a way of inspiring people to do things they never believed they could, and Morgan was such a person.  If all went well, Morgan would begin looking for jobs the very next day.
Hugh told her the next day at work, that his sister had started looking for jobs.  “I’m scared she’ll move out,” he said gloomily.
“Jeeze,” Elly said, “don’t you want her to get a life?”
Hugh scowled at her, but he soon turned thoughtful.  “You think she wants to get a life?”
“I would, if I were her,” Elly assured him.  “You should make her feel like you’re on her side.  I bet the reason she hasn’t looked for a job this long is that she thought she had to be home for you.”
“I guess I know that,” Hugh said.  “But she’s happy with Dad and me.”
“Is that why she fights with you all the time?”
“How do you know she does?”
“I just guessed, and I guess I was right!”

Elly, it so happened, had been kept unaware of what was going on with Janet.  When she finally learned about it, it was long afterwards.
“Dear Elly,” Janet wrote, “this will shock you, but I can’t help it: I have met a wonderful girl, and we have fallen in love.  She’s younger than you are—yes, I know I’m crazy—but I can’t do anything else!  She’s a sophomore at the University of Pennsylvania, and for various reasons, she has broken off ties with her parents.
"I am completely off balance, and I have been this way since this whole thing started early this summer.  I long to talk about this with you, but how can we?  I realize that you’re saving up for the Fall semester, and that’s why you’re working this summer.  I’d love to discuss your plans with you, and help you if I can.  And I’d love to talk to you about Crystal, and have someone whom I trust know about all this, so that I can bounce my ideas off you.  I don’t want to suddenly move in together with her, and have the whole world go into shock, including my beloved daughter!
"I know you don’t think of me as your greatest buddy, but as I grow older, you will become one of my closest allies.  I know Helen is there for me, but you and I are family, and we must learn to support each other.
"I guess I’m saying sorry for all the times I have let you down, and that I want you in my life, very, very much.  You mean far more to me than I can ever say, or you would ever believe, until you have a little girl of your own.
"Love, and lots of hugs and stuff,
"Mama."

“Oh God!” Elly cried aloud.  She was so moved by the letter that she didn’t know how to feel.  Janet had written only rarely to her; she tended to write only during crises, when she didn’t trust herself to speak calmly over the phone, and so her letters usually had a tone of such studied calm that they seemed almost unfeeling.  But in this letter, calm as it was on the surface, there was genuine feeling leaking out; it was her mother all over, the mother she had known and loved all her life, and misunderstood so much.
“What is it?  What happened?” called Helen from the stairs, looking over the bannister rail inquiringly.  “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!  I’m fine,” said Elly, her face shining, the trail of one tear streaking her face.
Helen came the rest of the way down the stairs, her youthful gait contrasting strongly with the severity of her face, now moderated a little with concern.  Now she sat a little distance from Elly, looking at the letter.
“Who is it?  Oh, Janet!”
“Do you know anything about this?”
“Depends,” said Helen, cautiously.
“Someone called Crystal?”
Helen closed her eyes briefly, in lieu of rolling them.  Elly giggled, wiping her tears.  Helen’s face relaxed into a wonderful smile.  All Elly’s problems seemed to be drawing Aunt Helen deeper and deeper into her affairs, and she sometimes felt embarrassed at the burden she must be for her.  But the smile told her that her Aunt loved her too much for it to matter.  She felt with a pang of guilt that Aunt Helen was what she had wanted Tommy to be, and that was too much to ask of anyone.
“What does she say?”
Elly told her in a few words; after all, the information in it was very little.  “But—the way she writes—it’s so sweet, Aunt Helen!  It’s as if …”
Helen only gave her a quizzical smile, studying her face.  “I knew this moment would come,” she said at length, “she feels very much alone.”
“But you wouldn’t let her down, would you?  What do you know about this girl?  Is there something wrong with her?”
“Not that I know of.  It’s the girl she met here, remember?  The girl she went home with from the bar!”
“Oh, that one!”
“She seems perfectly nice, if a little naive.  She—I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this—she went out to St Paul looking for Jan, and, well, found her.  It’s a long story.  She walked from Madison, I understand.”
“Walked!  Why?”
Helen made a gesture of frustration, indicating the craziness of the situation.  “I don’t exactly know; she was running away from home.”
Elly cursed under her breath.
“This isn’t like Mama at all.”
“Well, it is, and it isn’t.  She’s very emotional and impulsive.  If she hadn’t been, I might never have known you, Elly!  My life would have been very different …” Elly watched her Aunt Helen go into a reverie.  “She changed my life, and I changed hers … I’m very grateful to her for that!”
“I’d like to take Morgan to meet her,” Elly said suddenly.  “And I want to see this girl, check her out.”  Elly was suddenly full of plans.  Janet knew nothing of her plans for the Fall, and Elly realized how much she had to talk to her mother about.  She looked at Helen, and Helen picked up the phone.

Janet and Crystal told Elly to stay put; they were coming down to Philadelphia in any case, to get Crystal set up at school.  Janet had taken Elly’s ‘engagement’ very calmly.  Helen, Elly and Morgan met Janet and Crystal at the airport.  Introductions were shyly made, and Crystal and Morgan studied the others with great nervousness and bashfulness.  It was late afternoon on Friday.
“Let’s go up to the house and plan,” Helen said gently.  She looked thinner and more mature than ever, and the glasses she wore all the time, now, made her look still older.  Still, Crystal felt comfortable with her, and found herself smiling with her all the time.
Crystal and Elly sat together, in the large van, and Janet and Morgan.  The back was full of Crystal’s luggage, and Janet’s overnight bag.
“I’m so pleased to get to know you,” Crystal said, a little awkwardly.  It was obviously something she had carefully prepared.  She was as cute as anything, and Elly murmured something vague as she studied the girl who would be her mother’s companion, Elly’s ‘stepmother,’ as it were.
“So, you’re going to Penn!” Elly said, the only thing she knew about Crystal.
“Oh, yes,” Crystal said, and launched into a description of her program, and how she had hated it at first.  “But I’ve been teaching Sunday-school, and … I guess I’ve grown up a lot.”  She stopped talking, and looked at Elly frankly.  She lowered her voice.  “Look, I don’t want to disrupt your life, or run away with your mother, or anything.  I don’t want to upset anything!”
“Oh, I know,” said Elly, quickly.  She smiled at her.  “Mama seems so happy,” she observed.  “I should thank you for that!”  Crystal blushed bright pink with pleasure.  Oh man, thought Elly, an incorrigible blusher.
Janet was chatting with Morgan, drawing her out.  It took a while, but finally they found some common interests, such as music and philosophy.  Helen herself (Elaine) was the best topic of all, which they discussed softly so that the subject would not hear.
After some snacks and tea, they verified that Crystal’s old apartment was available.  Morgan had gotten a job with a bookstore, and as soon as she got her first paycheck, she would be ready to move into an apartment.  She was still working out the details of how to do the housekeeping for her brother and father.  Once that was done, they could take the next step, which was to move in together.

The Fall arrived, and soon everyone was off to school, or getting into the school routine. 
Elly was an instant sensation.  She was tackling a music major, and was among some very accomplished performers.  But with the theory she had learned with her beloved aunt Helen, all the playing she had done on the new piano, and the unremitting attention to practice on the violin and the viola, as well as her natural talent, the ‘new girl’ Elly was acknowledge to be the best in her class.  Determined to do her best, and wielding her natural charm ruthlessly, she stole the hearts of all her classmates and her professors alike.  She, too had to work on campus as a teaching assistant, assisting in a Theory course, and giving private tuition in English composition in the evenings.
Morgan had already begun working.  The work was dull, and she begged for more responsibility.  She was allowed two hours off at three, to run home, and fix supper, and return in time to work at the busiest hour of the store, and help close up at the end of the day.  To make up for this interruption in the work day, she also worked Saturdays all day.  Still, her employer was unhappy about the arrangement.  She had become a valued and reliable worker, adept at helping customers find what they wanted.  If she stayed in the store, her Saturday hours would be overtime, which she could really use.  Elly wished she’d simply stand up to her father and brother, and tell them to fix their own supper!
“Tell you what,” Elly said, “I’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“Go fix Hugh’s sandwiches, and fix dinner.  I’m free Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 3 to 5, so I’ll bicycle over and do it.”
Morgan was mortified.  “He’s in school now, so he really shouldn’t be needing his silly sandwiches … and Dad would be real unhappy.”
“I’ll just charm him,” Elly said.  “Let’s start tomorrow.  This will be fun!”
“You aren’t going to fool around with Hugh, are you?”
“Morgan, I’m three years older than him!  And besides …”
“Okay, okay, I’ll make sure everything’s ready for you.  Let’s try it for one day, and see how it goes.”
Elly turned up on her bicycle at three, let herself in, put on Morgan’s precious little apron, and began to look around for the supplies Morgan had promised to leave her.  Ah, there was a note on the ’fridge.
Elly, there’s eggs and bread and marge for you-know-who’s you-know-whats.  (You could have some, too!)  I could have made them in the morning, but he hates when they get soaked and soggy.  He’s so picky!
For supper, I’ve decided spaghetti with meat sauce, and a tossed salad.  I don’t always make things this fancy, but I’m trying to impress you!  Thanks a million for doing this—Morgan   
Elly smiled at the domestic charm of the note.  Morgan, for all her superficial simplicity, was a complex person inside.  But she longed for this simple, domestic existence, though her sexual needs, her financial needs, and her intellectual needs all demanded a more sophisticated lifestyle.
She got the eggs out, and put them in a pot, and turned on the stove.  To save time, she began to mix up the rest of the ingredients: the onions, the tiny bit of celery, the white pepper, the herbs.
There was a clatter on the steps.
“Hey!  What are you doing here?  Where have you been?”
“Hi there, big guy!  How you been?” Elly asked breezily.
“So, where’s Morgan?”
Elly grinned, her hands on her hips.  “I’m your substitute sister for today!”
Hugh grinned back.  “Oh yeah?  Do I get to kiss you, and stuff?”
“A kiss is okay,” said Elly checking on the eggs, “I don’t know about stuff!”
Hugh walked over.  “Hey,” he said, pleased, “you’re making sandwiches.  That’s perfect!”  He looked about, and looked at Elly, obviously a little disoriented.  But Elly could see that he wasn’t very upset about her being there instead of his sister.  He was dearly fond of his sister, but he tended to take liberties with her.  “I’ll be right back,” he said, heading off to his room.
A little later, she had him chopping onions for her.  “Just a tiny bit,” she said, “yeah, that will do.”
“Really?  I thought you needed tons of it.”
“Not for this.  Actually, we could make the sauce a little more interesting if we add just a little more.  Wanna do that?”
“Sure!  So more onions, then?”
“Yeah.  Maybe just half of one.”
“Jeeze!  Are you sure?”  Elly nodded.
It was fun.  He was excellent company, and a willing worker.  There was absolutely no sign of the laziness that Morgan ascribed to him.  She put the sandwich together for him, and he pronounced it great.  “Needs salt, though,” he said.
She slapped her forehead.  “I forgot to taste the thing.  I was so sure …”
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said.  “Just needs a touch.”
The onions were caramelizing slowly, and Hugh had added sweet peppers, finely chopped, and to Elly’s surprise, he decided to brown a little hamburger and throw it in.
“What for?” Elly asked.
Hugh frowned.  “It’s a little low on the beef,” he said.  “Morgan doesn’t understand things like that.”
“Where did you learn to brown hamburger like that?”
“Oh, at the store.  We make spaghetti sauce, did you know?  If there’s hamburger that’s getting a little old—not rotten, you know, just a tiny bit too old to sell—we brown the stuff, do the onions, just like you’re doing, and make sauce.  We serve it in the deli.”
“You can cook!” Elly looked sternly at him.
Hugh looked at her in alarm.  “No, I can’t!  Hey, just because I can brown hamburger …”
“You big humbug, you!”  Elly threatened him with a wooden spoon.
“Elly, careful with that thing!”
“Making your poor sister cook for you all these years!”
Hugh gave up.  He smiled.  “You’re a lot cuter,” he offered.  Elly had to smile.
The door opened, and Mr Green stood there, looking at them in his serious way.
“Where’s Morgan?” he asked quietly.
“She was held up, sir, and I offered to help with dinner.”
“Smells good,” he said, cautiously.
“It’ll be ready in, oh, ten minutes, I guess,” Elly said.
“No hurry,” said he.  “Thank you, Miss …”
“Elly, sir!  Elly Kolb!”
“Thanks, Elly!  Take your time.  Hugh, are you helping?”
“Yes, Dad.  I did the onions!”
“Good.”
They watched him stomp up the stairs.
“He doesn’t seem so bad?” Elly whispered.
Hugh shrugged.  “He’s just boring, that’s all!  Sis and he don’t get along, though.”
“How old is he?  He should get married.  He doesn’t look much more than forty-five.”
“Oo!  You interested in the old man?”
Elly gave him a look of scorn.  “You know better, Hugh Green.”
“Hey, why did you quit the last couple of weeks?”
“I’m back in College.”
“College?  You’re in College?”
“Sure!”
“I thought you were, like, seventeen!”
“Twenty-one!”
“Shit!”
Elly turned to face him, feeling a little shy.  “You really thought I was seventeen?”
“Sure!”  He blushed.  “Well, now that I know, I guess …” he grew very red.
Elly broke the spaghetti into the boiling water.  She had never felt as much for a boy as for Hugh.  Years before, she had felt something for Little John, when she had seen him naked one afternoon, on his bed, stroking a huge erection.  She had watched him through the door which was cracked open, until he had brought on an ejaculation.  She had been deeply moved at the sight.  It had disgusted her, but also fascinated her, and the look on his face had stirred something in her.  She had talked it over with Tommy—they talked over everything back then—and they had make love like mad, both of them aroused by the very thought of Little John jacking off by himself.
Elly had always shown John this patronizing, rather condescending face.  But underneath, she had been oddly attracted to him.  But Hugh … she had actually fantasized letting him fuck her.  Some day, she thought, she’d like to have a child, and it would be either John or Hugh.  Hugh, preferably, if she was to be Morgan’s lover.  Tommy would never come back.  Johnny was out of her life for ever, as a potential sex partner.  As long as grandpa John was alive, Little John was a sweet, attractive, sensitive little guy.  But now …
Hugh had finished eating the sandwiches, and had left one pointedly on the plate.  She had eaten several already, and he had watched her eat.  There had been a feeling of lighthearted eroticism, and Elly was sure it would amount to nothing.  He had smiled and gone away, leaving her to cook the spaghetti.
It was cooked now, and drained, and Elly filled the pot with water to cool the spaghetti down a little.  Suddenly, she felt arms around her, slipping between her own arms and her stomach.  Hugh was being familiar.
“Hugh, no.  Stop it,” she said in a low voice.  The hands froze, then were placed flat against her stomach.  She took a deep breath, and dug her elbow into his stomach and turned around.  He stepped away, rubbing his stomach, smiling ruefully.  She glared at him, and removed the apron.  She carefully hung it on the hook, trembling with fury.
“Come on, it was nothing!”
“I said no!” she bit out.  “When someone says no, just assume they mean no, Hugh!  I certainly did!”  Her voice was low, but she made him understand how angry she was.  It hurt twice as much, because she had enjoyed the feeling.  But he had forced it on her, which meant he didn’t take her seriously, and that hurt so much she was ready to cry.
“Elly …”
“The food is ready.  You take charge!”
Elly ran out before he could see her tears, grabbed her bicycle, and pedaled off as fast as she could.

“Smells wonderful!” said Dad, when he came downstairs.  “Who made the salad?”
“Me,” said Hugh.  He had slaved over it for ten minutes, making it just perfect, wishing she were here to taste it.
“Where’s the girl?”
“She had to go,” said Hugh.
Dad looked at him.  His eyes crinkled just a little bit, but Hugh didn’t know his father well enough to see a smile.
“I haven’t been tempted by a woman these ten years,” he said, sitting down at his bowl of salad, “But that one … she’s got something.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sure can cook, just about as good as your sister.”
“Hm-hmm.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“The salad is good, son.”
“Thanks.”  Hugh hated to cook, and hated more to have his salad praised.  He wished his father would eat the damn salad and keep quiet about it.
“Damn, the spaghetti is great!”
Hugh took a bite.  It was miserable with only the two of them.  Without Morgan it was awful, and he had chased Elly away!
“Will she be around tomorrow, do you think?  I’d like to talk to her a bit …” Hugh looked at his father.  He was staring at the door, a thoughtful look on his face.  The filthy old bastard!  He was lusting after Elly!  “I’m happy Morgan’s made friends with her … maybe ask her round on Sunday, for dinner … What’s she like?  You know her from the grocery store, don’t you?”
“She’s … she’s not … it’s not a good idea, Dad.  She’s … a little odd.”
“What d’you mean, odd?”
“She’s not quite right in the head, some mental problems!”
“Oh!”  Hugh’s father’s eyes widened, comprehending, but they narrowed, because he was not convinced.  He wasn’t born yesterday, and he could tell lust when he saw it.  “Poor girl,” he said.
“Yeah, I feel sorry for her,” Hugh said.  His body raged, and he felt like he would choke on the spaghetti.  It seemed incredibly sweet, delicious; Morgan couldn’t make spaghetti the way Elly made it—it seemed as delicious as the girl herself.  He wanted to eat her, to devour her, to penetrate her, invade her shell of boy-proof aloofness.  But he also felt her revulsion of him like a physical blow, an arm twisted at an impossible angle, hurting him.  “My stomach feels a little funny,” he mumbled.
“What?  Why?  What have you been eating, idiot?  Did that girl make sandwiches for you?”  That explained a lot; the way to the boy’s heart was through his sandwiches.  He had already gotten up, looking green.  Morgan kept giving him sandwiches; it was a miracle he wasn’t a 300 lb giant.  “Eggs are bad for you, don’t you know that?” he called after the departing boy.
Hugh Green Sr sighed.  She seemed such a nice girl, but … what did they know about her, after all?  She could cook spaghetti, and she was as cute as a button.  He wondered about young Hugh.  What had gone on to make her leave?  She seemed perfectly normal.  Was she as loony as Hugh said?  Had Hugh started lying?  He never used to tell such mean lies about people.

Elly had gone back to the Greens several days now, to help wean the little Green men from Morgan’s mothering.  She made Hugh help with the cooking, and cleverly coaxed Hugh Senior into helping to lay the table.  Hugh helped with the laundry, too, and on a Saturday, he helped a little with the cleaning.
Morgan had been delighted with the progress Elly had made.  She was becoming a little more confident about staying out working, and even when she was home, Hugh would help her like he helped Elly.
“Sis,” he had said, one time when they were alone, “can you talk to Elly for me?”
“About what?”
Hugh had turned red, and Morgan had turned red as they stared at each other for a few seconds in silence.
“Oh, Hugh … I think Elly—has someone.  Oh Hugh!”  Morgan laid a gentle motherly hand on Hugh’s cheek, her eyes brimming.  “She is a cutie, isn’t she?”
Hugh only nodded.  It had been an act of desperation, to blurt out his feelings to Morgan.  He pushed Morgan’s hand away.  Elly had someone!  Who could it be?  It had to be a girl.  God!  To think that she preferred some girl over him!  Violent thoughts went through his mind, but then he remembered Elly’s gentle face and he was ashamed of himself.
“Just forget it,” he mumbled, turning away.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Morgan asked, gently.
“No.  Yes!  —I don’t know,” he said.
“You’re growing up,” Morgan said, her voice full of affection and wonder.  Hugh looked at her sharply.  She didn’t sound at all like the sharp-tongued girl he had known since he was born.  “Hugh,” she said, “you know so many girls!  Why don’t you ask them out?”
He sighed, and began to explain.  Suddenly they were talking about all sorts of things, girls, sex, life, companionship, and above all, Elly.  It was incredible how much Morgan shared his attitude about things.  The most incredible thing was how she understood about girls, how they could wrench your heart out of you, and how they could make you helpless with wanting them.  And some of them—you wanted to eat them up, devour them.  And others —you wanted them to devour you.  That was how it was with Elly—he wanted to give himself to her, to surrender to her, to let her own him.
He looked at his sister, shocked at how much he had told her, and even more shocked at how much she understood.  They had passed some milestone here; they could never be the same again.  He found Morgan’s arms round him, and he melted.  Here was someone who accepted him completely, and he realized how much he needed those arms round him.  Beneath his façade of good-natured politeness had been a lonely boy who missed his mother.  Morgan had been wonderful, but he had not realized how much more he had needed.  And it made him utterly grateful that she understood his needs.
“I’m sorry, Sis!” he whispered.  “You have enough to worry about … work, and … I guess, you feel lonely, too!”
Morgan smiled.  She pushed him away to smile into his eyes.  He thought how pretty his sister was.  He smiled back.  He was suddenly mighty proud of his older sister.  She would make a wonderful bride for some lucky guy.  He had rarely ever thought of her as attractive.  She certainly had a great figure, but —it was her smile that made it look so radiant.
It was the first of many times Hugh talked to Morgan.  They had time together on Sundays, and Tuesdays and Thursdays when Elly was away and Morgan was home.
“Sis,” he said one day, “sometimes I—imagine Elly as I lie in bed, and I … and I …” he grew very red.  “Just forget it,” he said, blushing furiously, shaking his head.
Morgan suppressed a smile.  “It’s all right,” she said softly.  “Just don’t get confused between what’s imaginary and what’s real.”
He looked at her, startled.
“Why did you say that?”
It was Morgan’s turn to blush.  “When you fantasize about someone over and over, Hughie, … you begin to forget that they’re not yours, you know?  And you see them with someone else, and you freak out.  Some day, you might see Elly with—whoever … and you have to be prepared for that day, Hughie.”  He watched her, curiously.  She seemed to be hunched over her dishes.  “It could be painful.”
“She’s a lesbian,” Hugh said.  “She told me.”  Why had he told her that?  “Be careful; don’t get too close to her,” he warned.  He couldn’t bear the thought of Elly seducing his sister, maybe forcing her into sex—whatever lesbians did to other girls.  He couldn’t imagine Elly doing anything hurtful like that, but he didn’t want to think that his own sister could be Elly’s victim.  “Don’t tempt her!”
“I’ll be careful,” Morgan said, so low he could barely hear her.

The next day, Elly was in the kitchen when Hugh came home.  It was difficult, because he had been fantasizing about her all day, and he was almost bursting out of his skin with desire for her.
“Hi!” he said briskly, giving her a businesslike smile.
“Hi,” she said, her huge, lovely eyes making him weak-kneed.  She looked a little disappointed at his brusque greeting.  Hugh went straight upstairs, not daring to breathe.
He threw his bag on the floor, and struggled to take his clothes off.  He wanted to be absolutely naked while he lay in bed and thought of her.  He was totally dripping with some kind of sexual stuff that was coming out of his pores.  His penis was standing straight out, almost four times its usual size, aching to be touched, yet he didn’t dare, because he just knew a single touch would make it explode, and it would be over.
He stood at his mirror, staring at himself.  His penis was so erect, it was against his stomach.  He saw some suntan oil on his dresser, and picked it up.  He tip-toed to his bed, lay down, and began to apply the oil all over his body, as slowly as he could, gently, hardly daring to breathe.  From time to time he lay back, almost certain that he could just will himself to explode in a shower of semen.
Elly began to make the sandwich filling.  She knew Hugh liked to do it, really; he had all sorts of silly things he would add: a dash of this and a dash of that, none of which made any difference, as far as she could tell, but still, it made him happy.
He was gone a long time, and something clicked in her mind.  It was so quiet, she couldn’t even hear him moving.  “Hughie?” she called softly, and there was no answer.
Somehow, she found herself climbing the stairs, unable to stop herself.  She knew she was spying, but she had to do it.  She wasn’t trying to be quiet, but she was, and she could hear him breathing, just barely.  Taking a deep breath, she turned into his open door, and saw him lying on his bed, naked, shining with oil,
He looked at her in silence, not breathing.  She looked at him; at his eyes, at his penis, engorged, lying on his stomach, and back at his face.
She approached slowly, afraid to make a sudden movement.
“May I touch you?” she whispered, her eyes full of his beauty.  He only sighed his consent; he could not talk.
Slowly she reached for the little bottle of oil, and wet her hand.  Then she stroked oil on the skin around the penis, her eyes riveted on it.  She could feel his tension, he was almost humming with it.  Finally she dared to touch it, feeling it in her hand, the wonder of it, and felt something of what other women must feel.  The plastic imitations she had often been fucked with were nothing compared to the real thing, its hardness, its softness, its texture, the energy that throbbed through it, the desire that was packed inside it, packed to bursting.  She bent close and laid her cheek against it, and in a second, it was ejaculating, streaming thick, gelatinous on her cheek, in her hair, down her neck.  Hugh groaned in ecstasy, his trembling hands groping for her head, pressing her tight against himself, oblivious to everything except the need to have something, someone against his body at that moment.  On and on he pumped, completely controlled by his need.  If he had died that second, his body would have showered Elly with his ecstasy regardless.
Elly lay on him, weak, as spent as he.  Then she lifted her head to study the stuff that had made such a mess of her face and neck and hair.  She knew about it in theory of course, but it was something else to actually touch and feel it.  It was warm, almost hot, and fragrant, a wonderful, rich, mind-blowing fragrance that she would never forget.  She rubbed a couple of fingers in it, her eyes closed, immersing herself in the sensuousness of it.  She touched it to her mouth, tasting it, watching his eyes as she did it, unwilling to waste a second of this glorious experience they had shared.
A long time later they were downstairs, making sandwiches.
“Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it disgusting?”
“No … it was beautiful.”
“Oh god, only you could say that!”
Silence.  Elly made her first sandwich and handed it to him.  It seemed the right thing to do.  She watched him eat it, feeling the sensuousness of it.
“Do you think you could—love a boy?”
She sighed.  “I love you, Hugh.  That’s not what you need from me.”
“Why, Elly?  If it was so beautiful … why can’t you … why can’t we …”
She shrugged.
“Beauty alone is not enough!”  He deserved someone who could love him, not just his body.  And she could not love him the way he wanted her to. 
But this shared experience was a problem.  He would always hold it out to her, challenging her to say that it meant nothing, and she knew she could never lie about that.  It had been a pivotal experience for both of them, something that would change her whole life.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said softly.  “I was wrong; I should have known better!”  She was so upset, she was in tears.  “By doing that, I’ve hurt you too much!  Hugh, I didn’t mean what I did!  Do you understand, Hugh?  I was lying when I did those things!  It was a lie, all a lie!”
“Don’t be upset, Elly,” he said, trying to console her, frustrated at the turn in the topic.  “I don’t think you were lying, you know.  Sometimes your hands and your—cheek …” he choked on his words, “… sometimes they tell the truth when you’re too afraid to admit it!”  He continued to babble nonsense in that vein, sensitive to Elly’s mood, afraid that their relationship had been hurt beyond repair, desperately in need of reassurance that Elly would not run away.
What could Elly do?
Her first duty, thinking far ahead, was to be to the Green men what Morgan’s spouse should have been.  If Morgan were to have married a man, he would be an in-law, a member of their extended family, someone who helped them in times of need, a brother and a son.  Elly had to be a sister and a daughter; that was what custom demanded.
It would take a long, long time before they would be comfortable in taking that view, once they knew what Elly was.
Elly had a roast cooking slowly in the oven.  Peggy had told her how it was done, and she had been excited about presenting them with it at supper.  Now look at what she had done.  It was all ruined because of a stupid lapse in self-control.  In her annoyance at herself, she began to furiously focus on supper.  She cleared the table, ignoring Hugh, and began to work on the vegetable.
“I’ll help you!”
“I’m fine, Hugh, really.  Just let me get this finished …”
“You don’t want me around any more?”
She could hardly bear to look up at his broken-hearted face.  How could she explain to him how much she loved him?  She wondered whether straight men could ever understand the nuances of love.
“Just not right now, Hughie,” she said quietly.  “We both have to—get over what we—what I did.  Just go do your homework.”
He left silently, and Elly laid her head in her hands and tried to calm her racing mind.

Unable to face Morgan, Elly was gone by the time she arrived.
“Where are you?” she asked.
Her soft voice made Elly cry.
“I have to talk to you!” Elly said.
“What’s happened?  Hughie seems to be all upset.  Did you both have a fight?”  Morgan was speaking softly, and Elly knew she was concerned about being overheard in the tiny house.
“Can you come out to the drugstore?  I’ll meet you there and explain!”
“It’s dangerous, Elly.  I don’t want you coming here after dark by yourself.”
There was a brief silence.  “I’ll borrow the car, and I’ll pick you up.”

Elly didn’t even lean over to hug her when she got into the van.  She was hunched over the wheel looking more upset than Morgan had ever seen her.
Elly pulled out, and began to drive.  Once she was on the highway, headed South, Morgan began to drag the story reluctantly out of her.
“The little pervert,” Morgan cursed.  “With the door wide open!”
“It wasn’t wide open, just open,” Elly said quickly.  “I’m so sorry!”
Morgan sat quietly, and Elly could see her trying to make sense out of the story.
“Do you think that …”  Elly could see her trying to soften the question, “… that Hugh might believe you’re—falling in love with him?”
“I think that’s probably what’s happening; I mean, I know he thinks that.  Oh god, the things I did … it was disgusting!”  Morgan couldn’t bear the self-condemnation in her voice.  “… I rubbed the stuff all over my face and hair … it’s like I was taken over by someone—something else.  I don’t know what I am, or who I am anymore, Morgan!”
Elly dared not tell her that all she could think of was sex with Hugh.  There was a fascinating wrongness about it that drew her, a kind of animal lust that she didn’t know she had in her.  Of course, she had pretended with Tom, in those terrible days she wanted to forget.  Hugh reminded her of Tom so much; that lean hard body, that fierce passion, the convulsive explosion of the climax when it came, the soft tenderness afterwards.
But Morgan was completely different.  They had had sex only a couple of times; and it was never the important thing for them.  Sure, Elly was a lusty girl, and they had both been desperate for sex.  Morgan had made love like a drowning woman.  But the soft comfort they felt in each other’s company was something completely different than they had ever felt with anyone else.  Something unique, a kind of home.  And Elly feared that it was gone.  She knew that among some lesbians, to have a partner return to a man was a kind of defeat, an admission that they weren’t self-sufficient.
Elly pulled off the highway onto a country road, and pulled into a churchyard.  They looked around to see if they would be disturbed.  Silently they had come to realize that they needed to find out if what they felt for each other had changed.
It hadn’t.  All the magic was there, intact.
At first Morgan had been restrained, reticent, even if not outright reluctant.  But Elly had made her believe that she loved her.  In the back of the van, with the blanket Elly had found under the seat spread out over the rug, Elly had allowed Morgan to retake possession of her body.  They had made love silently, until Morgan had asked Elly, her face looming over her, her eyes looking right into her own, do you love me?  Was it because Elly could never say no, with Morgan’s hand deep inside her, as she felt herself falling, falling, held up only by Morgan’s hand, or was it because Morgan felt that she could not lie at that moment?  But she never hesitated.  Yes, she said, I love you like crazy.

Helen called Crystal up, asking whether she would like to come over for dinner on Friday, and stay the night.  Crystal said she’d call her back, and an hour later said yes, she was free.
Crystal was a retiring but interesting presence at dinner, that Friday.  The Garabedians had eaten early with Matt, and left the house to Helen and Maryssa and the family, and their guest.  It was only the second time she had come out to Primrose, and the first time she had spent much time at all with the children.  Jeannie had also been invited, and she and Erin sat near Crystal, making her feel at home, and telling her jokes that kept them all in stitches.  Crystal had a pretty smile, and tended to blush when she was amused, which made Elly chuckle.  It was fascinating for Elly to study the woman her mother had fallen in love with, but before long Elly gave up the attempt to keep in mind who Crystal was in relation to herself, and simply allowed herself to get to know her as an individual.  Under that pretty skin and smiling face was a staunch, determined girl that Elly decided she, too, might easily have fallen in love with.
“So how has school been, so far?”
“Very nice,” Crystal said, nodding at Helen, as Maryssa studied her with interest.  “I’m taking Spanish, Philosophy, Math for elementary teachers, Drawing, and Biology,” she told them.
“Drawing?”
“Yeah, like with pastels, and pencils, and charcoal sticks—that kind of thing.”
“Mama is a wonderful drawer, aren’t you, Mama?” said Erin.
“Well, you’re a good drawer—or should I say: artist—too, honey!”
Erin shook her head.  “Nuh-uh,” said Erin, quickly, shaking her head, “not me!  I can draw a tree, and that’s about it!”  There was laughter all round.
“Lots of homework?”
“Oh yes, tons.  You mean just in Drawing, or all together?”
“All together,” Helen said, smiling.
“Oh, yes, uh huh.  And Math is a little hard, too.”
“Really?  So what is this math like?” Elly wanted to know.
“Well, this is what we learn so we can teach math, you see?  It’s not just math for little kids, it’s math for adults, and a little technique, and how it really works, so that we really understand what’s going on behind the math,” she said, using her hands expressively, her eyes serious.  With a little more prodding, she described more of what the course contained—thus far, at least—and they all listened with interest.  Allie wanted to know whether Crystal would be ready to teach little kids like her, and Crystal said yes, all kids up until Grade Six.  Allie seemed impressed at that.
Crystal never relaxed so much that she could chatter away like the others, but she became quite comfortable, and certainly quite happy to enjoy the company.
“Do you always have so much fun at dinner?” she asked Elly, smiling.
Elly grinned and said no, they didn’t all usually meet for Friday; this was special for Crystal.
“That’s why I got to stay over!” said Jeannie, also grinning.

The following day Helen, Jeannie and the children had planned to clean out the fish tank.   Meanwhile Maryssa had a date with her beau.  Since Crystal was with them, she joined in, too.  Sensibly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she joined the crew.  Elly was gone on her usual mysterious errands, and Helen let Erin and Jeannie supervise the whole operation, with Crystal and the little ones doing the actual work.
“I never had fish,” Crystal admitted thoughtfully.  “I had a cat, though.”
“You did?” asked Allie, wide-eyed.  “Mama, are cats difficult to look after?”
Helen rolled her eyes, while Crystal looked repentant at having brought the topic up.  The kids had only had the fish a few months, and Helen firmly said she would first have to see how well the fish did.
Jeannie supervised the cleaning of the tank, while Erin kept an eye on the fish in their temporary home, and James who was watching them.  The tank was too dirty to clean with the fish still in it.
“There seems to be a lot of uneaten food around,” Crystal observed, gently.  “That can’t be good for them.”
“You’ve been over-feeding them,” said Jeannie to Allie.
“It isn’t me, it’s James!” Allie said, indignantly.  “James, you listen to Jeannie!”
“What, Jeannie?”
“You’ve been overfeeding the fish; I’ve told you before!”
“Hey, they’re hungry, I feed them.”
“They just look hungry all the time, James!  They’re not really hungry, just because they’ve got their mouths open!”
James looked at the girls, rather like a hungry fish himself, and Crystal began to laugh.

Unexpectedly, when Helen visited Seattle for one of her monthly "tapings" of the Galaxy show, she collapsed on the set, complaining of an intense headache, and was hurried to hospital.  A CAT-scan indicated an enormous tumor, pressing on the Optic Nerve, and they operated immediately.  When it was over, they learned that Helen had lost her memory almost completely.  She was a total amnesiac.
Physically, except for the amnesia, she was perfectly fine.  But her personality was oddly different: she behaved more like a teenager.  Elly was the one she related to best, but she learned that Maryssa was in love with her, and was looking after her children, and out of a sense of duty, the new Helen loved Maryssa as devotedly as she could.

Lorna and Tommy looked aghast at Helen, who was staring at them suspiciously.
“Please sit down, and introduce yourselves,” she said coolly.  “I can’t remember anything, really; it’s pretty hopeless.”
“This is Tomasina, your half-sister,” Lorna said.
“Hi, Tomasina,” Helen said, softening her smile a little and offering her hand.  She looked her up and down, and nodded.  “I can see the—the…”
“Resemblance?”
“Yes!  Resemblance, resemblance.  Shit … oops.  I get mad when I forget words.”  She looked utterly discouraged.  “Tomasina Nordstrom?”
“Tomasina Krebs, but the same father.  It’s a long story!”
Helen rolled her eyes, and Tommy grinned.  “Relax, sis,” she said gently, “I just wanted to check you out, and make sure you wouldn’t freak out if I called ya!”
Helen smiled and nodded, her eyes checking out all the metal Tommy wore.
“You look like a pin-cushion,” was her opinion.  “You must be a punk, or something!”
“No, no; punk is on the way out.  I’m just mostly a regular chick!  Anyway, we’ll go over that another time!”  She bent down and kissed Helen lightly on the cheek, and Helen seemed to like that.  Tom felt wonderful.  There was something magical about re-connecting with your sister after she had suffered amnesia.  It sort of validated everything.  You always suspected that she loved you out of duty, but then, here she was, trading insults, just on faith.  Tom was accepted, and her heart was ready to soar.
“This is Little John.  He’s the only guy in our—in Your family, except for James!  Where is he, by the way?”
“Out with Maryssa,” said Tommy.
“Hi, sis!  Remember me?”
Helen looked at the tall, thin boy, with eyes so like hers.  Again there was that easygoing manner, but a doubt in his eyes that told her quickly that things had not been quite right between them.
“Hi, John!  John Nordstrom?”
“Yeah,” he said.  “Different mothers.  My mom is Annie.  You probably haven’t met her yet.”
“Oh, Annie.  Yes, I did.  Annie is you mom?  Little Annie?”
“Yup, little Annie!  You mean, because I’m tall?”  Helen nodded, a bemused look on her face.  “You’re pretty tall, too, you know?  We’re a tall family!”
Lorna smiled at Helen’s pleasure in meeting her siblings.  The occasion had overtones of both tragedy and celebration.  It was pathetic how everyone hung on every shade of emotion expressed by Helen.  Lorna wondered how damaging it was to be the center of attention, given her vulnerable state.
“And this is Elly.  She was named for you, and for Eleanor, Janet’s mother.  This is Janet’s daughter.  By the way, Helen, your own name is Eleanor.  Helen is sort of a nickname.”
“Really?”
She turned to Elly, who stood on the IV side, looking anxious, wiping her eyes.
“It’s so hard,” started Elly, “when I’ve only just gotten to know you again, just put my life together, and now you can’t remember anything!”  Tommy shifted uncomfortably.  The real world had come back with a vengeance, and kicked her in the gut.  Elly was looking like a million bucks, and she’d have to be introduced to April sooner or later.
“It’s not my fault!” Helen said in a small voice.  At least that much hadn’t changed, Tom thought.  If she liked you, she’d take the blame for anything.  I’ve got to learn to back down like that, Tom thought to herself.  It was one of the most annoying, but also one of the most endearing qualities of her sister, to back down even when she was right.  She couldn’t figure just exactly how much Helen was changed.  Sometimes it seemed she had hardly changed at all.
Elly was still struggling with her thoughts and emotions.
“At least I live close to you,” she said.  “When you get home, I can come spend time with you.  Not for your sake; for me!”  She cried and laughed, and Helen stroked her, touched by her words.
“I’d like that,” she said.
Everyone —except Helen herself— looked at Lorna, who had introduced everyone else.  Lorna cleared her throat.  Helen finally turned to her with a smile.  She sighed with relief.  She looked around the room.  “It’s getting easier,” she said.  “At least, I know enough to join the dots a little.”  She twisted her head to look at Lorna again.  “Come over here, where I can see you,” she asked, smiling.  Lorna came round.
She had worn a short skirt that showed off her legs, a habit that she couldn’t quite give up.  She sat on the edge of the bed, but got up, feeling awkward when Helen studied her legs.
“I’m Lorna,” she said.  “I lived with you for a time, oh, two-three years ago.”  Helen nodded, encouraging her.  Her smile was a little stiff, and Lorna decided she had joined her dots all right.  “Yes,” she said, “we were close.  Then I went away to join the ballet.”
Elly took up the story.
“You have a big foundation that does a lot of charity.  And Lorna is head of that.”
Helen looked wide-eyed at Lorna for confirmation, and Lorna nodded.  “There’s very little to do, except put money into it,” she said.  “The money magically goes out!”  Helen’s grin was like a ray of sunshine.
That grin startled all of them.  It was totally unlike Helen to suddenly grin like that.
The grin faded away to a soft smile, which too began to fade.
“I’m different, I know,” said Helen, with something like her adult voice.  “The Helen you know and want has been … ripped out …”
“Destroyed.”
“Yes, sort of destroyed.”  She calmed herself with an effort.  “Amy wanted to put a violin in my hands.”
“What’s wrong with that?  You could probably pick it up and play!” Elly said eagerly.
Helen shot her a reproachful look.
“I don’t want to try—and fail,” she said.  “No,” she said, her mouth pressed tight, “I do want to try and fail.  Then I’ll be left alone.”
“Why do you want to be left alone?” Elly asked, her eyes troubled.
“Because some people, I won’t say who, only care about me because I could play the violin really good.”
“I can assure you,” said Lorna, with deep conviction, “that there isn’t anyone like that, Helen.  Your family knows better than to worry about your violin-playing.  And the rest of us, your friends … we just want the chance to build up a relationship again, if we may.  If your violin is such a big deal …”
“I don’t care whether it’s a big deal,” Helen shot back.  “I’m … I don’t know what I’ll do!”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Anyway,” said Lorna, “that’s who I am!”
Helen smiled.  “You’re real pretty, you know that?”
Lorna glanced around in embarrassment before she smiled awkwardly at Helen and nodded.  It was hard to make your legs disappear when you wanted them to.
“You better watch out for that Amy,” she said sulkily.  “She’ll have you out of here in a second.”
“Amy?  What did she do?”
“I was talking to this girl, and she sent her away.  If I like anyone, I guess that’s enough for her to get rid of her.”
“That doesn’t sound like our Amy,” Lorna said, frowning.
“I mean the doctor, Amy.  That Amy,” said Helen, clearly irritated with everybody acting dumb.
“Come on, sis, Amy had been your best buddy for decades!” said John, who liked Amy a lot.  “You’ve got to get out of this paranoia kick.”
“What did you say?”
“What—paranoia?”
“Yeah!  What does it mean?”
“Ungrounded suspicion!”
Helen looked daggers at him.  “You ask Lalitha what she did!  She chased Melanie away!”
“Who’s Melanie?”
Helen shrank back, covering her mouth.  She gave them a sly smile.  “Nothing!  Just forget I said anything!”
“Why, you rascal, you’ve been two-timing Maryssa!”
Helen looked distraught.  “Please don’t say anything about it to … anyone!” she begged.  They were thoroughly confused, but agreed to say nothing.
Lorna bent to kiss her on the cheek, and smiling to the others, left the room.  Little John, Elly and Tom clung to Helen, and—to their pleasure— Helen clung to them.  She told them how scared she was, and expressed relief that they were so nice.
“You’re the nice one,” Elly said, “you’re going to have to live with a lot of gratitude from me!”
“Me too,” said each of the others.  Helen said she could handle that.

Meanwhile, Tom had managed to interview Morgan, and made sure she met Little John and Lorna.  “Welcome to the family,” Little John said, a little ruefully.