Josh was cleaning up the supper dishes when the
doorbell rang. He knew who it was and why she was here but he
continued to run hot water over the pot he had just scrubbed. He heard
the door open and then the pleasant chitchat of his mother and a
friend. He took a Brillo pad and worked away a bit of burned pea soup
and then rinsed the pot again. He sensed someone in the door
behind him, but he did not turn around.
"Hello, Josh. I wanted to stop by and hear about your
trip." Still, Josh did not turn. "Your mother said you were in here. May
I help with those dishes?"
Slowly he turned, his eyes on fire. In fact, he'd been
practicing this moment since he'd first met Mr. Maloney in Detroit,
since he had realized he was just her pawn in a long distance love
affair. He caught her eye, stared for a moment, and then spoke.
"Hello, `Holly.' Yes, I had a wonderful time with
`James.' He sends his love, or his deepest regards, at least." The intensity
of the anger in his voice surprised him.
"Oh, Josh. I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to. . . ."
She stopped.
"I'm a lot of things, Ms. Parsons." He tried to let the
anger drive his words. He wanted to make clear. . . . He wasn't even
sure anymore what he wanted to make clear. But he had started
angry, set the tone. Maybe it was the truth. "I'm trying to find my place
in the world. And it's a struggle. But I thought maybe I had a
chance, a chance to get away from all of this." He swept his hand
around the kitchen. The anger was slipping away. "And I fly on that
plane. Do you know how exciting that was for me? I've never even
been to an airport before. The plane ride alone was a thrill of a
lifetime. And the taxi ride. It was a real taxi, with a bullet proof divider
and a cabbie who liked the Tigers. And how good the school was,
the Michigan School of Automotive Technology. And a guy in a
suit—a three piece suit—greets me and hands the cabbie a ten dollar
bill, like he did it all the time."
"Oh, Josh."
"No, no. I'm wicked impressed so far. Wicked
impressed." Ms. Parsons had backed up a step and now she settled into a
chair. She looked sad and broken. Josh felt suddenly betrayed by his
own feelings. Did he really want to hurt her? But he forged
ahead, caught in his own masquerade.
"It's as if the whole city is ready to welcome me. As if
small town hick Josh Allenson has suddenly found a place where he
can live and grow and be free. It's awesome, Ms. Parsons,
awesome. And this suit, this guy in the suit, welcomes me to Detroit.
He's another one, wicked glad to see me."
"Wicked, Josh?" Parsons frowned but it did not deter
his anger.
"Yeah, wicked glad to see me. And do you know what
he says next? Can you guess?" He felt like the prosecutor making
the closing arguments at a big TV trial, one he knew he was going
to win. But the victory already felt hollow.
"Josh, I'm. . . ."
"No, no. That's not right. What he says is, `How's
Holly?' Now I am wicked surprised by this. But wait! There's more."
He held up a finger, stopping Parsons from speaking. "Mr.
Maloney, James Maloney, turns out to be your old boy friend. Your
roommate from Kent State. Now isn't that a coincidence?" He
turned and slumped against the sink.
"Josh, I didn't, I didn't know that. . . ."
He spun around and faced her again. "You didn't know
that I was going to meet your old boy friend?" Josh had found
the center of his anger again. He had been set up, used,
manipulated. That was it. That was what made all of this so difficult, so. . . .
His head was spinning. But he continued. "You didn't know that
you had lived with this guy twenty years ago? You didn't know that
the James Maloney you were sending me to see was the same
James Maloney that you ran away from, that you wouldn't go to
Detroit for, not even for a visit? Don't tell me that you didn't know!"
"Josh, will you sit down? Come over to the table. Put
that dish towel down. Come over here." She reached out for
Josh's hand but he pulled back. "Please?" He threw the dish towel
onto the counter and moved toward the table, put his hands on the
back of a chair and stared at her.
"I'm listening." His heart wasn't in this anymore. The
anger was not real. He looked at the woman sitting across from him
and found pity and, and. . . . And someone who needed. . . .
Needed what?
"Josh, James and I meant a lot to each other, it's true.
I once thought, foolishly, it seems, that he and I might get married.
I invited him to come to Exeter and for a while I thought he might.
I hoped he might. But he was a man, and had his foolish pride.
He wasn't going to follow some girl across the country, giving up
a good job for only a promise. He could have found a job here
with no trouble, but he wouldn't. I probably pushed too hard,
scared him, because he never even came for a visit."
"You could have gone to Detroit." Where had the
anger gone? Josh had words that could hurt, ready to build his case,
but now he was listening to her story. He cursed silently. But he
suddenly realized that his future was set, that even he had become
part of the conspiracy to make him succeed in this crazy world.
"No. It was too late. Once he refused to come here,
anything else would have been a concession on my part."
"Tough lady." But she didn't look tough.
"Oh, no. One of the things he liked best about me was
my independence, my stubbornness. And if I'd gone to Detroit,
sure, we would have been together, but he wouldn't have respected
me anymore, and things would have changed." She dabbed at
the corner of her eye with the napkin.
"So what do you want now? Do you want him to
come running here and pick you up and carry you away? Is that why
you sent me to Detroit? To find your knight and bring him to you?"
The anger was coming back and Josh was pleased. Maybe he'd
been right.
"No. No, of course not. We'd be right where we
were twenty years ago, except now he's got a better job in Detroit
and I'm committed to Exeter. Even if we still liked each other, we'd
still refuse to compromise. So there's no point. Nothing can be done
to change what has already happened." The napkin was moving
more furiously now, trying to stem the tide.
"Then why'd you send me out there? What's in it for
you?" That was the wrong answer. If she hadn't been trying to
rekindle old flames then why had she written to this guy, this old lover?
"For you, Josh. For you. Does that surprise you? Do
you find that so hard to believe?" She put the napkin down.
"For me? But this guy, Maloney, James, he said that. . . ."
"He said what? That he'd let you into his school if I
moved to Detroit and married him? Was that a condition?" Now she
was smiling. Or laughing.
"Don't laugh. I may not be smart enough to figure
this whole thing out, but I won't be laughed at. Especially not by
you." Tension welled up in his body again.
"Josh, come sit down, and relax. Look at your hands."
He raised his tightly clenched fists and stared at them, as
if they were not connected to his own body. What was happening
to him? As his fists relaxed, he felt something twist in his
stomach again. He fell into the chair and stared blankly across the table.
"Josh. Josh, just suppose that you had impressed a
teacher very much. Not because of anything except the work you had
done for her. That and your commitment to people. Your kindness."
She paused, but Josh didn't move.
"And this teacher owes you a great deal. Or just thinks
you deserve a great deal, more than you seem to be willing to
take. Can you imagine that?" Now she waited.
"Maybe." He tried to hold his glower but his face
was softening.
"Good. Now, suppose this teacher doesn't have
very much she can do for this boy. Oh, she can give him A's for
his work and encourage him to do well in the rest of his daily life."
"Okay. Okay, I get the point. I'm your favorite
student. Big deal. But Maloney's still your lov . . . friend. What am
I supposed to do with that? I will not become a part of this
twisted love affair." Nothing made sense anymore.
"Now wait. This teacher wants so much to give
you something, something that you deserve, simply because of
who you are and what you've done. But she doesn't have much.
And then she remembers the one thing that she has that he might
like. No ulterior motives. Just a simple gift." She folded her hands
in front of her and smiled. "Just a simple gift that I hope you
will consider. Not for me. Not for James. Just for you."
"Nothing's just for me." He felt empty. The anger
had disappeared. Nothing was maybe what was inside. Why did
he never have the right feelings?
"All right, then. Nothing's ever just for you. Then
let's look at the ulterior motives that I have." He didn't want
her agreeing with him. It made things even more confusing.
"Ulterior motive number one. I make contact with an
old boy friend. Ulterior motive number two. I, I don't have any
other motives. Just you, and James. Just to know how he is.
You stayed at his house. What's his wife like? Oh, I'm sorry. I
was going to say that life is full of ulterior motives, but that we
have to grab for the things that are good for us, no matter what
the motives behind them." Parsons sighed.
"Are those the ethics you want to teach? Grab
what's good for you? He's not married." The anger was gone. Josh
had felt it sliding away. And what had taken its place was a
certainty, a centering that felt. . . . It felt good.
"If you don't look out for yourself, who will? Be
ethical, but don't not take a chance because you're not sure of
the motives. Who's Margie?"
Josh laughed, and slumped into his chair. "Detroit
was wonderful, Ms. Parsons. The school was awesome. Mr.
Maloney is a really nice guy. I think you'd like him. Margie is his
sister. She lives around the corner."
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