ã€ŠPippa&#x27;s Passingã€‹


 1. Death Notice

    I thought I would never write this down. It wasn¡¯t that I thought I might write this down but had no faith in myself that I would get the task accomplished. No, I believed I would never write this down because I had convinced myself that I shouldn¡¯t write this down even though I had promised someone once that I would write her story. After recent revelations, I realized it was time to record the true events as I knew them and events that later were detailed to me.

    It started with a death notice. In fact, there were really two death notices.

    It was late fall of 2004 and I had been away for almost a year teaching English as a second language in South Korea. It had been one of those advertised opportunities and my life was not so set or encumbered with ties that I couldn¡¯t consider the opportunity. I saw it as an adventure and something to add to a life that, up to my reading of the second death notice, seemed markedly unremarkable. I gave up my apartment, sold some things, gave others away, and put the rest in storage. This, however, is not the story of that story. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever write that down but then I didn¡¯t think I would write this story either.

    The first death notice was my Father¡¯s. The phone rang one late night and it was my brother Rod saying that my Father had died suddenly. Suddenly. I was both thankful and suspicious of that word. If it was sudden then he hadn¡¯t suffered but maybe he had been suffering and he eventually died and Rod was just then letting me know. I had been away almost a year and news from home was sparse or edited so as not to concern me. The truth was, it was sudden. One day my Father was there and then he wasn¡¯t. Then there was the phone call. I choose not to write down my Father¡¯s story either.

    My teaching abroad suddenly ended. Suddenly because of my Father¡¯s death but also a prolonged ending that finalized because I went home again and I stayed. This is part of the story that I¡¯m writing now.

    There are details that don¡¯t need telling here. I flew home and there was a funeral and a fight. Rod wanted me to stay and start taking care of my Mother. I wanted to go back to Korea. If there is a card game of family then Rod played all the guilt cards in the deck. My year abroad had left him in charge and he felt it was my turn. He quickly pointed out my lack of ties and my current unencumbered status and threw in some other bits from our youth of how, being the older brother, he had always had to be the responsible one. I¡¯m not sure he didn¡¯t cry a bit, too. So I stayed.

    After the funeral and after the fight, I made my stay at my Mother¡¯s a more or less permanent thing. The more being I didn¡¯t have my own place anymore and the less being the less options I really had available to me. I had no ex-wife or ex-girlfriend in recent history but then that¡¯s part of this story and I haven¡¯t gotten to that bit yet.

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    The second death notice. I had been away for almost a year. I know I¡¯ve said that already but in being away for a year and giving up my own apartment, I had had to have my mail forwarded somewhere. You guessed it, my forwarding address was my Mother¡¯s home. You would think that in a year, that would amount to something but with no ties or few personal connections, there would be no bills or letters. At least, that¡¯s what I thought.

    There had been a gathering at my mother¡¯s house after the funeral. They always call them a celebration of life but coming on the heels of a death, you¡¯d think there¡¯d be a more apt title. So, there was this death gathering, which isn¡¯t a title I¡¯m proposing, and my mother¡¯s house had been full for a few hours. I didn¡¯t recognize half of the people and the other half were relatives or friends of my parents who I had not seen in a long time.

    No one close to me had been there and that was expected. I hadn¡¯t been close to anyone in a while and a death gathering wasn¡¯t the place you went to anyhow to catch up. Still, I had hoped to see one person. I wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d come or what I would have said to her if she had been there. That¡¯s a big part of this story and leads to the second notice.

    I was in the kitchen with my mother tidying up after the gathering. My brother Rod had begged off with some excuse after everyone else had left and I knew that he expected me to take charge of the clean-up now that I was living there.

    ¡°Where do you want me to put these?¡± I asked my mother as we stood there with some unused paper plates and napkins.

    ¡°Oh just put those on top of the refrigerator,¡± she responded. ¡°I¡¯ve got to tidy up the counters. Just leave everything else for now.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s already something up here,¡± I said, as I grabbed up a stack of papers held together by an elastic.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s yours,¡± she replied. ¡°I bundled all your mail together over this past year.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not much. With everything else, I had forgotten I had put them up there.¡±

    She was right, it wasn¡¯t much. A few fliers or sale invitations were mingled throughout with a couple of Alumni Magazines from Trent University. I don¡¯t know what drew me to those but it was probably because they were on top. I usually skipped the articles and only really checked the section devoted to alumni students and what they had been up to. The Spring edition didn¡¯t feature anyone I knew. Partway through the Fall edition, I had to sit down. Here is what I read:

    Pippa Lavoie (n¨¦e Bailey) ¡¯83 died on August 17 at the age of 43, surrounded by her family, after a sudden battle with cancer. From Belleville, Ontario, she came to Trent for an Honours Business degree. She has resided in Montreal for the past eleven years. A memorial Mass was held in Belleville on September 14. If friends wish, please donate to your local Cancer Society in Pippa¡¯s memory.

    This was the woman I had looked for at the gathering. I hadn¡¯t really expected her but I also hadn¡¯t expected this notice. This was the end of a story that I thought I would never tell. To me, this was as awful as my Father¡¯s passing. Pippa was gone.

    That paragraph in the Alumni magazine had been very short on details. It was a sad culmination of a life that had once been entwined deeply with mine. Sitting there re-reading the summary of Pippa¡¯s passing, I realized that she deserved better. I knew then that I had to fulfill my promise and write her story.

 2. Pippas Passing

    It was the fall of 1977 and Pippa was standing there all those years ago and the memory was clear. I was stalking her. Well, part of that was true. I was there to help with her campaign for Student Body President. Her cousin was there, too. What was her name? Sylvia? Sonia? It doesn¡¯t matter. Her cousin wasn¡¯t important in this part of the memory.

    I remember the first day I became aware of Pippa. There¡¯s a Paul Simon song with the lyrics ¡°I loved her the first time I saw her / I know that¡¯s an old song-writing clich¨¦ / Loved her the first time I saw her / Can¡¯t describe it any other way.¡± That¡¯s how I felt. It was grade eleven and she was new to the school. It was old man Thompson¡¯s advanced English class. I had upgraded because general-level English wasn¡¯t challenging me. Thompson¡¯s class was challenging but the real perk was Pippa.

    I have a vivid memory of that first day she bounced in. I can still see it. She wore a white turtleneck sweater and she had curves. But it was that face and that hair. Blonde and smiling. She had an infectious smile and a sing-song sort of voice. She was late that first day and apologized for having slept in. She added that Mr. Thompson should not consider her late for today but early for tomorrow. She got away with it. That was Pippa.

    I loved her the first time I saw her. It wasn¡¯t just my loins that had perked up. Here was someone new. Here was someone different. Most everyone else had come to Central Secondary School from feeder schools and I¡¯d either known them in elementary school or had shared classes with them in grades nine and ten. Not her, though. She was new and she stood out. I¡¯d comment more on the figure but really it was the whole package. When she spoke, you heard her voice above all else¡­above everyone else. I think she knew it too.

    I sat at the end of her row and I could only see the back of her head but her long blonde hair was very noticeable. She tossed her head often and your eyes followed that hair as if there was nothing else in the world like it. And there wasn¡¯t. In fact, there was no one in the world like Pippa. I loved her the first time I saw her.

    Naturally, it¡¯s always someone like Pippa who decides they want to lead others. She led conversations in the class. She led conversations in the halls or outside. Her voice was mesmerizing. I think if she had asked us all to show up to class stark naked, there wouldn¡¯t have been many of us who would have objected. Of course, she had to run for Student Body President.

    Pippa convinced Mr. Thompson to let her use his classroom for staging her campaign. That was the memory I was trying to recall. It was her and her cousin, Sarah, Stella, something, making posters and banners. I had stopped in to offer my help. I think it was a little forward of me because she¡¯d never acknowledged me much but I thought maybe offering my assistance would get me closer to her.

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    ¡°What colour do you want for the lettering?¡± her cousin with the forgotten name asked as I arrived.

    Looking at me entering the room, Pippa stared and then said ¡°I know you. Do I know you? Pink.¡± This last statement had been meant for her cousin.

    ¡°Jeff,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t much of an introduction but I had to start somewhere.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Pippa replied. ¡°I didn¡¯t think your name was Pink. That was another thought. I can¡¯t imagine anyone being called Pink, let alone a guy.¡±

    ¡°I understand, er- understood. You can call me Pink if you want.¡± I was stammering. She had me reeling just being that close to her.

    ¡°Really?¡± she asked. ¡°Okay, Pink it is. Pink for the signs and Pink for you.¡±

    I didn¡¯t object. I supposed I could have been called worse.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Pink?¡± Pippa finally got around to asking.

    ¡°Er, well,¡± I continued to stammer, ¡°I thought maybe I could help with your campaign.¡± I hoped I hadn¡¯t come off creepy or suspicious.

    ¡°Can you write big letters?¡± Her cousin asked.

    ¡°Big pink letters,¡± Pippa added.

    ¡°Not well, my handwriting¡¯s not great and my printing¡¯s not much better.¡±

    ¡°What can you do?¡± her cousin asked suspiciously.

    ¡°I¡¯m good with ideas.¡± It was a weak answer but at least I could think on my feet.

    ¡°Okay Pink, what have you got?¡± Pippa asked.

    I was stuck now. Stuck with the name and stuck after touting myself as an idea person. I had nothing. I could only think to ask ¡°what do you want?¡±

    ¡°Good thought Pink. What do I want? I want something that says I¡¯m here so don¡¯t miss your opportunity to vote for a great candidate.¡±

    ¡°She is a great candidate, you know,¡± her cousin thought to add.

    ¡°Something that says don¡¯t let this opportunity pass you by?¡± I was only restating the obvious but it bought me time to think.

    And what I thought of was Robert Browning. I muttered ¡°Pippa Passes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that, Pink?¡± Pippa asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s from Robert Browning. It¡¯s ¡°Pippa Passes. We studied it last year.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t here last year.¡± Pippa didn¡¯t offer much else about that. It would take me a while to pull the threads together about her backstory before coming to my school.

    This was my chance to shine. It was why I had upgraded to advanced English. I liked the classics. ¡°It¡¯s a famous story about a girl named Pippa who brightens the lives of everyone she passes. It contains the famous line ¡®God''s in his heaven¡ª All''s right with the world¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Is that where that¡¯s from? You¡¯re a treasure trove of information, Pink. But instead of Pippa Passes let¡¯s put Pippa¡¯s Passing¡­¡±

    ¡°Pippa¡¯s Passing. Take note. Don¡¯t let your chance go by. Give her your vote,¡± her cousin added.

    ¡°Thanks Pink, you really are good with ideas. I¡¯ll have to read that Browning story. Pippa¡¯s Passing. I like it!¡±

    ¡°Nice one, hot shot,¡± her cousin added, if not a little reluctantly.

    ¡°Call me Pink,¡± I replied. I wish I hadn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know why I did. The name stuck after that. Sure, I can remember that but I can¡¯t recall Pippa¡¯s cousin¡¯s name. It¡¯s not important.

    Not only did Pippa pass, she lost. Bright pink letters and a campaign helper named Pink didn¡¯t translate into votes.

 3. Carlotta

    I was now part of Pippa¡¯s inner circle. It wasn¡¯t very large. It mostly consisted of me, the newly branded Pink, her cousin Sabrina or Sierra or whatever, and a few hangers-on. The hangers-on changed with the prevailing wind; the prevailing wind being Pippa.

    Pippa liked what she liked and liked people who liked what she liked. She didn¡¯t like most modern music or newer films. She loved the Beatles and went through an Elvis phase apparently before he died. That was part of her backstory before coming to my school. Elvis had died that summer before grade eleven. She told me bits and pieces about it once later on. She had belonged to some mail group called the Brides of Elvis and contributed to their monthly newsletter. That all stopped when Elvis died. Less than a month later she was at a new school. The correlation between the King¡¯s death and her attending a new school were not directly connected but it was part of that backstory I would learn later on.

    I could relate to Pippa. I wasn¡¯t big on modern music and I loved classic films. The hangers-on drifted off when it came to things like that. The inner circle was still at its core the three of us although her cousin didn¡¯t really trust me enough to fully accept me as being in Pippa¡¯s orbit.

    Pippa was indifferent to me at first. I think it pleased her to have a male friend who was just a friend and who she could call Pink. I should have objected to that name early on when hearing some of the hangers-on use it on me but if I wanted to stay close to Pippa, I had to allow it. It really wasn¡¯t too big of a deal back then. I just wanted to be close to Pippa and it was a small price to pay.

    Later in the year Pippa and I were in a film studies class. One of the films was Alfred Hitchcock¡¯s ¡®Vertigo.¡¯ She became fascinated with the film and the historical character of Carlotta Valdez.

    ¡°I wish I was named Carlotta,¡¯ she said one day. ¡°If I ever have a daughter, I¡¯m going to call her Carlotta.¡±

    ¡°What if you have a son?¡± I thought to offer.

    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t call him Pink if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking.¡±

    ¡°It would make a nice middle name.¡±

    ¡°Carlotta Pink Bailey,¡± Pippa mused. ¡°I like it. I¡¯ll take it into consideration.¡±

    We both laughed at that. There was something odd in the statement. It pegged us both to an unknown future. Did she ever think of a possible future of the two of us together? I know I did. I didn¡¯t mind being in the friend zone but I wanted so much more. I loved her the first time I saw her. I couldn¡¯t get past that. She didn¡¯t seem to notice.

    Sometimes she would catch me in the hall and hook her arm in mine if we were going in the same direction. It stirred something in me every time but it was all so platonic with her.

    ¡°Where are you heading, Pink?¡±

    ¡°What did you think of that class, Pink?

    ¡°What are you doing this weekend, Pink?¡±

    I had to stay focused on what she was asking. Her arm linked in mine sent my head reeling and my body tingling. I had to stay focused on the conversation so I wouldn¡¯t betray my feelings.

    It was in that film studies class that Pippa almost got me killed. Being me, I would do anything she asked. Besides studying film, we had to make our own super 8mm film. A cartridge of film would equate to about three minutes. Mr. Bird who taught the class suggested we do it in pairs. Pippa elected me as her partner.

    I¡¯m not sure what input I gave to the production of the film. I know the story idea was Pippa¡¯s and she was in charge of filming and directing. Her plot was simple. She wanted to film a simple bank robbery with a twist. The twist was that the bank robber, being me, would make his daring escape on a city bus.

    Pippa had it all planned out. Around the corner from our school was a bank and across the street from the bank was a bus stop. She knew the bus schedule and when it would stop there and somehow she convinced the bank to let us film me entering the bank with a mask and gun. It was planned in the hour before the bank opened. I would enter the bank, wait a few minutes until I saw the bus coming and then dash across the street and board the bus. We would later go back and film our scene inside the bank and match it up in editing. What could go wrong?

    The day of the shoot was perfect. The bank was ready for us and one of the employees would unlock the door when they saw me coming. Masked up with gun in hand, I entered on cue. I had only had to wait a few minutes inside the bank before I saw the bus coming and then I started out towards the bus stop. The problem was that although we had permission from the bank, no one had notified the police that it was just a student film project. I stepped out of the bank to police officers who also had guns drawn. Someone in one of the apartments across from the bank had seen a robber, me, enter the bank with a weapon and alerted the police. I was told to drop my weapon and get on the ground. It was a no-brainer. I dropped my toy gun and dropped to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bus pull up across the street and then speed on.

    Pippa never stopped filming. She loved the realism. Luckily one of the bank employees hearing the commotion came to my rescue. Then came the lectures. There was the police lecture and the lecture from Mr. Bird and the one from my parents. Pippa had finally had to come forward with her camera to show the police it was just a film. The whole story made local and national news. I¡¯m not sure what happened with the bank when their corporate headquarters heard they allowed us to stage a bank robbery. All I know is that Pippa and I were not allowed back to finish shooting our interior scene.

    Pippa edited together what we had and we received an ¡®incomplete¡¯ mark. Pippa argued it up to a C. I think she could have argued it up to an A but I told her not to push her luck.

    Getting back to ¡®Vertigo¡¯, Pippa¡¯s obsession with the character of Carlotta Valdez started to get a little intense. In the movie, the husband of the female lead believes his wife is possessed by the deceased Carlotta. The character¡¯s mood would change and it would seem at times she was possessed. That¡¯s the way I was starting to believe it was with Pippa. Pippa was always generally cheerful and I don¡¯t think, up until then, I had seen her angry or sad or generally put out by anything. I¡¯d almost believed she wasn¡¯t capable of it.

    ¡°You know Pink, I¡¯m like that character in ¡®Vertigo, I think there¡¯s a Carlotta somewhere inside me.¡± Pippa had caught up to me in the hall at the end of a school day and the linking of arms began.

    ¡°That¡¯s just a movie, I don¡¯t think any of us can really be possessed,¡± I replied. Of course, I hadn¡¯t seen the movie ¡°The Exorcist¡± but I know that was the premise of that movie. As an aside, that was the last movie that my parents had seen in a theatre. They had gone with my aunt and uncle. My Father had thought it was a comedy.

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    ¡°No, not like I¡¯m possessed,¡± she continued. ¡°It¡¯s more like something that¡¯s inside me that comes out. Sometimes the sun is shining inside me and other times there¡¯s a storm just below the surface. There are dark parts of my past, Pink. I¡¯m not ready to talk about those.¡±

    I realized I was moving into the confidant role. It made me feel closer to her but her description of ¡®a storm just below the surface¡¯ was off-putting. I didn¡¯t know what to make of it.

    ¡°We all have histories, Pippa,¡± I offered.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell you mine someday, Pink.¡± She unhooked herself from my arm and skipped off down the hall to her locker.

    ¡°You better be careful,¡± said a voice behind me.

    I turned to find her cousin.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Her history has pitfalls. Be careful you don¡¯t fall in.¡± Her cousin could be just as mysterious as Pippa. I¡¯d already fallen. I had fallen in love with Pippa the first time I saw her. Was that one of the pitfalls her cousin mentioned?

    ¡°I¡¯m just a friend, nothing more,¡± I barked back. ¡°She doesn¡¯t owe me an explanation.¡± I moved off down the hall.

    ¡°You just keep telling yourself that,¡± she shouted after me.

    Pippa¡¯s Carlotta continued to rear its head. I deliberately chose not to bring up the subject but there were times when I could sense that storm inside of her. Something would trigger her in conversation and she¡¯d become silent and stare off into space or some other time.

    Then there were The Carlottas. There was a school talent showcase and Pippa had entered with a couple of other people. I had no talent so I resigned myself to spectator.

    I had suspected something but Pippa had played her cards close. It wasn¡¯t until the day of the show and the student, who was acting as the announcer of acts, came out before the curtain and announced ¡°our next act is a musical trio. Give it up for The Carlottas.¡±

    There she was. Pippa and one other person were on guitar and her cousin was on flute. They were dressed in dark clothing and sang an original song about loss and sorrow and love. The lyrics were clearly inspired by what Pippa had described as her Carlotta experience.

    Underneath my skin

    the storms begin,

    You don¡¯t know me at all.

    Things from my past

    Are there to last

    And I¡¯m drifting towards a fall.

    There are dark skies

    Behind my eyes

    You can¡¯t love a ghost.

    What I¡¯ve been

    And the things I¡¯ve seen

    Are what define me the most.

    The song went on from there but the general gist was what Pippa described to me as her Carlotta. The singing and the instrument playing weren¡¯t bad and the applause from the other students and the teachers was favourable. There were no prizes in the talent showcase but I don¡¯t think anyone forgot about The Carlottas for a while after that.

    ¡°I liked it,¡± I replied to Pippa when she questioned me after the showcase.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think it was too daring?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No, I think it was very brave of you to get up there and sing.¡±

    ¡°Not daring that way, Pink. I mean the song lyrics. Do you think it was too much?¡±

    ¡°Too much of you?¡± I asked. I regretted it as soon as I¡¯d said it.

    ¡°Thanks a lot, Pink! I put myself out there and you give me this bullshit?¡± She stormed off.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I yelled after her. I ran up beside her and showed my daring by linking my arm in hers. She tried to pull away but I held firm. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant, Pippa,¡± I lied, ¡°I thought you were asking me if you thought it was too personal, you know, in the song lyrics. That¡¯s all I meant.¡± I hoped she would at least sense my sincerity.

    She spun me around until I was facing her and she put her hands on my shoulders and stared directly into my eyes. I thought she was going to throttle me.

    ¡°My god, Pink, you¡¯re a bad liar. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m still a little raw from the performance. I told you there was a Carlotta inside me. I wanted you to know that.¡± She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. My knees almost buckled.

    ¡°I know that now,¡± I stammered. I almost added that the whole school knew that now but that would have sent her storming off again.

    She gave me a big hug and whispered in my ear ¡°give me time, Pink.¡± She linked with my arm again and we strolled off down the hall with her commenting on the other acts in the talent showcase. My heart was in my throat or on my sleeve or wherever it¡¯s supposed to be after someone kisses you and hugs you and asks you for time. I should have sensed that this was one of those pitfalls her cousin had warned me about.

    The rest of that school year had been a series of moments with Pippa. At some point, I became the only true person in her inner circle. She sought me in the halls and in the cafeteria and outside of the school. We talked for a few minutes at the end of the day and she would go one way and I the other. I didn¡¯t know where she lived.

    Most days were her sunny disposition and she¡¯d talk about classes or music or anything that wasn¡¯t too serious. Some days she would drop a bit of information I¡¯d hold onto in my effort to get to know her better.

    ¡°Did you know I was a Bride of Elvis, Pink?¡± she asked casually one Friday afternoon as we were exiting the school. This was the first time she ever mentioned Elvis to me in any intimate way. I knew she was a fan but I also knew she liked the Beatles so I didn¡¯t give much thought to her musical interests.

    ¡°A Bride of Elvis? What¡¯s that?¡± I inquired. It couldn¡¯t be what I imagined. I knew enough that Elvis had only been married once but this type of Bride of Elvis conjured up something cult-like out of an old horror movie. I remember a late-night movie called ¡°The Brides of Dracula.¡± I hoped it wasn¡¯t that weird. I would choose one of her Carlotta moods over something like that.

    ¡°Oh, it was just a group I belonged to. It was a fan-mail club. We were devotees of Elvis and I helped contribute to a monthly newspaper.¡± That sounded normal at least.

    ¡°But you¡¯re not anymore?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not in a big way. There¡¯s no newsletter anymore since he died but sometimes someone will send out a group letter to all of the members. The last one was a weird conspiracy thing about Elvis faking his death. I¡¯m not into that kind of nonsense.¡±

    That was good because being a Bride of someone who was dead or possibly not dead or was undead was starting to sound a lot like ¡°The Brides of Dracula¡± again.

    ¡°I was in love with him once. I have most of his records and I still have some of his photos. I had a lot more but I had to scale back after we moved.¡± She stopped suddenly and didn¡¯t speak for a moment. This was the first time she had said anything about moving. I knew she had attended a different school but I didn¡¯t know she had moved as well.

    ¡°That was a rough time for me,¡± she continued. ¡°Elvis¡¯ death came on top of everything else.¡± She stopped again. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was trying to tell me something and was building up the nerve. I thought I had better throw her a lifeline.

    ¡°Elvis, hunh, he¡¯s pretty good. I¡¯ve seen a few of his movies. What¡¯s that one where he¡¯s like a hillbilly and there are two younger brothers and this thing about how they tried to break a chocolate bar evenly?¡± I hoped that would make it easier on her.

    Her face lit up. ¡°You mean ¡®Follow That Dream¡¯, that¡¯s my favourite, Pink. Some call his movies fluff but I like them. I really thought I would marry him someday¡­so did all of the other Brides of Elvis.¡± Now, I understood the term.

    ¡°Elvis had his demons, too, you know,¡± she went on.

    ¡°Not like a Carlotta, I¡¯ll bet.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if I should have said that.

    ¡°Nothing like that.¡± She didn¡¯t seem to be disturbed by the comment. ¡°Drugs and alcohol mostly from what I¡¯ve heard. He was a tragic soul. Maybe he had his own Carlotta inside of him. I never thought of that. He might have¡­¡± she trailed off and stared off at nothing. Her own Carlotta was taking hold again.

    ¡°Follow That Dream, you said? I¡¯ll have to remember that. What¡¯s your favourite Elvis song?¡± I was trying to bring her back into the moment.

    She blinked and turned to me. ¡°Hunh?¡± was all she could say.

    ¡°I was asking about your favourite Elvis song.¡±

    ¡°Oh Pink, I don¡¯t want to talk about Elvis anymore,¡± she said somewhat sadly. ¡°Elvis was there for me when I needed him but now he¡¯s gone. Who have I got now?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got me.¡± It was brave but I thought I¡¯d put it out there.

    ¡°That¡¯s sweet of you, Pink. Do me a favour and don¡¯t ever change.¡± She leaned in and hugged me. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me Pink. I¡¯ve lost too much already.¡± She began to sob lightly.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I said. I¡¯m here for the long haul. Maybe I¡¯m a Groom of Pippa.¡±

    She pulled away quickly and I thought I had ruined everything. But she began to laugh and said ¡°maybe you are, Pink, maybe you are.¡± The sun was out inside her again.

    ¡°See you Monday,¡± she chirped as she waved and went off in her own direction.

    I stood there looking after her for a while. She had shown me another vulnerable side and had dropped some clues about her past. I knew I had to follow the breadcrumb trail to whatever secrets were lying at the end. I had to; I told her I was there for the long haul.

 4. Run, Pink, Run

    That first year was noteworthy for many things. First, it had been my first glimpse of Pippa on her first day at our school. Second, Pippa¡¯s campaign and my introduction as ¡®Pink.¡¯ Then there was Carlotta, The Carlottas, and The Brides of Elvis. Many things seemed to fall into the Carlotta experience and then everything else were other moments that left me with either a little more insight into Pippa or left me with a whole lot of questions. The afternoon of the motorcycle was one of those incidents that fell into both of those latter categories.

    I don¡¯t remember the specific date but I remember it was mid-week because we were back in school that day and it was an excessively warm day¡­too warm I thought for a motorcycle jacket. Of course, the rest of us had shed some of our winter or cooler spring attire and it gratified me to no end to see Pippa with less layers. I remember her legs. That¡¯s not one of those things I¡¯m likely to forget. Still, I can¡¯t remember if she wore shorts or a skirt. Still, I guess that minor detail is not important.

    It was at the end of the day and I don¡¯t remember what we were talking about as we exited the school. This had become a ritual for us most days. Some days it was just Pippa and I and sometimes her cousin, Sienna or Sasha, was there. On this particular day, her cousin was in tow.

    The first thing I noticed when I exited the school was the motorcycle. You couldn¡¯t miss it. It was parked near the entrance and it was all new and glistening in the sun. The owner was noticeable too with a shiny black helmet and a black leather jacket. This guy was the epitome of cool. He still had his helmet on so I didn¡¯t recognize him. I didn¡¯t recall seeing anyone with a motorcycle attending our school. It had to be a new acquisition if it was one of our students.

    Pippa gave out with a long whistle. ¡°Will, you look at that. I wonder who he is?¡± she asked. At that moment, given her excitement and interest, I suddenly thought this motorcycle and the rider weren¡¯t so much.

    Hearing the whistle and Pippa¡¯s voice, the rider turned toward Pippa and removed his helmet.

    ¡°Roger!¡± she exclaimed excitedly and ran forward and threw her arms around him. If she had whispered anything to him, I couldn¡¯t hear it.

    ¡°Hey Pippa,¡± he responded when she separated herself from him. I had been uncomfortable with the length of their embrace. Who was this guy? I sensed competition. ¡°Like the new wheels?¡± he continued. New wheels? Who says that?

    ¡°Do I!¡± she purred as she ran her hand over the side bike. ¡°Where¡¯d you get it?¡± ¡°How¡¯d you get it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a ride and tell you all about it.¡± He offered her his helmet and shook out his own hair. Great, I thought. This guy has the hair and the looks to match the new motorcycle. There was a pain in my stomach. I was sure I had been forgotten in the moment.

    ¡°A ride? You bet!¡± she offered and donned the helmet and straddled the back of the bike. ¡°Ow, the seat is hot!¡± She immediately adjusted herself. That¡¯s how I remember the legs.

    ¡°Hang on,¡± he offered. He started the bike and after a moment of thundering noise they started out. In what was an afterthought, Pippa turned and shouted ¡°see you tomorrow¡± over the rumbling of the motorcycle. She couldn¡¯t wave because her hands were wrapped tightly around the rider. I stared off with my mouth wide.

    ¡°Jealous much?¡± Her cousin was at my side. I had forgotten about her.

    ¡°I told you once I¡¯m just a friend, nothing more.¡± I offered with my dry and gaping mouth.

    ¡°Yeah, and I told you to keep telling yourself that. Remember those pitfalls I told you about? Meet Roger.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Roger?¡± I asked and then quickly added, ¡°wait, I don¡¯t need to know.¡± The truth was I did need to know but I wasn¡¯t going to kowtow to her and show I really was jealous.

    ¡°Relax, Romeo, it¡¯s her brother.¡±

    Her brother? Why didn¡¯t I know she had a brother? ¡°I didn¡¯t know she had a brother. She never mentioned him.¡±

    ¡°Like I said, one of her pitfalls. I better not say anything more. If you want to know more about Roger, you better ask Pippa.¡± She walked away.

    I didn¡¯t know what to think. How could Pippa never mention a Brother? I thought she was an only child. Frankly, she had never spoken about her family. If I had put all the clues and information together that I did know, I could honestly believe she was an only child or an orphan for the lack of all the family information she did share. I only knew about her cousin and I didn¡¯t know on what side of the family she was related.

    I didn¡¯t see Pippa for most of the next day. We had a morning Geography class together but she wasn¡¯t there. We didn¡¯t sit together in that class but I could see her empty seat from my desk.

    I finally caught up with Pippa at the end of the day. She was walking down the hall alone. I called out to her but she didn¡¯t turn or slow down. It wasn¡¯t until I was right behind her and tapped her on the shoulder before she acknowledged me.

    ¡°Oh, hi Pink, I didn¡¯t know you were there.¡± She seemed listless and not ready to engage.

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Have you got a few hours, Pink?¡± I knew that she didn¡¯t mean that literally.

    ¡°Sure, what¡¯s up?¡± I went on.

    ¡°That son of a bitch!¡± she exclaimed. She just as quickly repeated it. ¡°That son of a bitch!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t like Pippa to get that worked up and she wasn¡¯t always quick with profanity.

    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.

    ¡°My father, that¡¯s who,¡± she replied. ¡°And Roger,¡± she quickly added.

    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± I really didn¡¯t have a clue.

    ¡°My father, that son of a bitch, bought Roger that motorcycle and the helmet and the leather jacket.¡± I didn¡¯t know that Pippa could be that envious.

    ¡°Is there a problem with that?¡± Again, I had no clue and I couldn¡¯t see what the problem was.

    ¡°Yes, there¡¯s a god-damn problem, Pink. I guess you don¡¯t really get it.¡± She started to walk away.

    ¡°Pippa, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here,¡± I called after her. I thought I should be honest and straight with her. ¡°First, I didn¡¯t know you had a brother until yesterday and you seemed okay to me when you two rode off together. And now you¡¯re completely pissed off with your father and your brother and now me. I¡¯m not sure how to navigate this all.¡±

    Pippa turned back and walked up to me and slapped me in the face. ¡°You¡¯re so god-damned dense Pink. I¡¯m not sure why I¡¯m

    friends with you. Tell me Pink, what do you bring to this friendship?¡±

    My face really stung. A number of students stopped to watch what was happening. I didn¡¯t want an audience so I turned and walked away. I was hurt and it wasn¡¯t just my face. What did I bring to the friendship? I thought I brought everything. I had never turned away from her. I had longed after her and walked with her and listened to her and worried over her but this was too much. The real question, I thought, was what did Pippa bring to this friendship? Was it really a friendship? It seemed pretty one-sided to me.

    Pippa didn¡¯t call after me or scurry up and try to link arms with me and try to apologize. I didn¡¯t give her the chance. If she did anything behind my back I didn¡¯t know and, at that moment, I didn¡¯t care.

    I skipped school the next day. I feigned a stomach ache and it seemed real enough to my Mother. I had never done that before so she had no idea I wasn¡¯t really sick. The next day would be Saturday and I thought the weekend would help me put some distance between what had happened and give me time to think what to do next.

    My brother Rod stopped in to check on me after he got home from school. He was a year ahead of me but we really hadn¡¯t hung out much since I had started at the high school. We each had our own interests and he had his friends and probably thought he was too cool to be hanging out with anyone in lower grades.

    ¡°How¡¯s it going, faker?¡± he asked. I knew his checking in on me wasn¡¯t out of brotherly concern. ¡°The whole school¡¯s talking about that slap yesterday. No wonder you stayed home today. I wouldn¡¯t let my girlfriend treat me that way.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not my girlfriend,¡± I replied without displaying too much emotion. ¡°Besides, you¡¯d have to have a girlfriend before you¡¯d get treated in any way,¡± I shot back.

    ¡°Listen, little brother, if I wanted one I could get one. I¡¯ve got my future ahead of me and I¡¯m not going to start it off saddled down.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure what future Rod was speaking about. I didn¡¯t know what his future plans were. He only worked summers at a local Texaco and the following year he¡¯d be finished school. If he had Post-Secondary plans, he certainly didn¡¯t share them with me. Still, his cavalier attitude about not having a romantic attachment was starting to make sense to me.

    ¡°My relationship with Pippa is complicated and frankly none of your business.¡±

    ¡°No skin off my nose, Pink. Is that what she calls you? I¡¯ve heard people talk.¡± Rod was acting just a little too smug.

    ¡°Heard what?¡± I asked. I wanted to know what else he had heard other than Pippa¡¯s nickname for me.

    Rod leaned on the door frame. ¡°You better watch your step around that one; I hear that she and that brother of hers have some kind of history.¡±

    ¡°Like what? You don¡¯t know anything.¡± I wanted to know what he knew but also didn¡¯t want him to know that I was anxious to learn it.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I better tell you. You¡¯re not ready to hear the details.¡± He smirked at me and I wanted so much to punch him in the face.

    ¡°See, I told you that you don¡¯t know anything.¡± I thought the taunting would loosen his tongue.

    ¡°Okay, wise-ass, you asked for it. I know a guy that knows her brother. They say he¡¯s not bad but the sister is a wild cannon. Did you know they don¡¯t even live together?¡±

    Of course, this was news to me. Everything was news to me. I guess I was the one that really didn¡¯t know anything.

    ¡°Rumor has it that the family split up because they caught her in bed with him,¡± Rod continued. ¡°Chew on those details. You better watch yourself Pink.¡±

    I rose quickly off the bed and made for Rod.

    ¡°You¡¯re a liar!¡± I shouted as I took a swing at him.

    My aim was wide and he grabbed my arm and twisted it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even try it brother, I¡¯ll break your arm. Besides, don¡¯t shoot the messenger. It¡¯s what I heard.¡±

    ¡°Get out,¡± I yelled and pushed him through the door.

    ¡°Excuse me for caring.¡± Of course, he didn¡¯t care.

    I slammed the door when he was clear. ¡°Loser,¡± he shouted through the closed door. I thought about shouting something back at him but I was too angry and too confused after what he had just said. My anger was all-encompassing. I was angry at Rod. I was angry at Pippa. I was angry at her brother. Hell, I was even angry with myself.

    I kept to myself most of the weekend and when I did see Rod, we didn¡¯t speak. I think he was just as glad not to engage with me.

    At school, on Monday, Pippa was standing at my locker when I got there. She¡¯d met me at my locker before sometimes and if it was a Monday morning, we would idly chat about what we had done over the weekend. I was still reeling from everything. The physical hurt from the slap was gone but the internal hurt was something I couldn¡¯t shake. I wasn¡¯t ready to talk to her. I didn¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°Pink, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said almost pleadingly as if her apology would make everything better. ¡°I know you probably don¡¯t want to talk to me. I don¡¯t want to talk to you either, not right now. Do me one favour, Pink. Will you run with me?¡±

    ¡°Will I run with you?¡± I had a thousand questions swirling through my brain. Some were about the slap and some were about what Rod had said. I could only think to ask that one. What did that even mean? Was she asking me to run away with her? How would that solve anything? Before the slap, I would have run to the far corners of the earth with her. What made her think that running away with her now, would fix anything?

    ¡°I¡¯m not ready to talk now, Pink. I know I¡¯ve hurt you. I owe you some answers but I need a couple more days. Run the Harrier with me on Wednesday. We can talk then.¡± The pleading was there again in her voice and in her eyes.

    I had forgotten about the Harrier. It was an annual event that happened every spring. It was a two-mile run that really wasn¡¯t much more of an excuse to get out of classes. You signed up to run it and you got to get out of whatever class you would normally have been in at that time. There were many who ran but few who ran the whole way. The Harrier snaked downed the hill from our school up a side street then across another street to a main street and then back to the street the school was on. Most of us, who ran it to cut class, ran the first bit down the hill to the side street and then walked the rest of the way. We only ran the last part again when we were in sight of school. I never knew what a Harrier was or if it was named after someone. What I did know was that they recorded your name and your time and how you finished. It was really a glorified recruitment for track and field. I came in seventy-fifth both times I participated.

    ¡°I know this is your first year here Pippa, but most students don¡¯t really run the Harrier. They only end up walking most of the way so they can get out of class.¡± I¡¯m not sure my explanation was really going to help bring us back closer together.

    ¡°I know that Pink, Sandra told me.¡± Sandra, that was her cousin¡¯s name! Why couldn¡¯t I remember that? ¡°We¡¯ll walk and talk. I just want to get away from here somewhere we can have some privacy.¡±

    The meaning of her plan wasn¡¯t really lost on me. Sure, it would be private but it would be time-limited. She had obviously put some thought into her proposal. I guess it was better than running away together. I wasn¡¯t ready for that but I also wasn¡¯t really excited for the walk and talk. Still, things had to get settled somehow.

    ¡°Ok,¡± I offered, ¡°I¡¯m already registered for the Harrier. What should I wear?¡± I thought maybe easing the moment with a joke would help ease things along.

    ¡°Not now, Pink, Wednesday. I have to run.¡± With that, she was gone. I¡¯m not sure if her parting words of ¡®I have to run¡¯ was her attempt at humour. It didn¡¯t seem all that funny to me. Nothing about Pippa this past week had amused me in the least.

    Wednesday afternoon was another sunny and warm spring day. The first year I ran the Harrier in grade nine had been warm as well but in grade ten it had been cold and rainy. I wasn¡¯t looking forward to the Harrier but time off of class was not a bad benefit. It was the anticipation of the talk with Pippa that had me on edge.

    The first couple of days that week had been civil between us. Neither of us sought each other out and if we crossed each other in the hall or outside at the end of the day, we nodded or waved. It was clear that both of us wanted things to be better between us but Pippa had laid down the ground rules and I had agreed to them.

    Another perk to the Harrier and it being warm was seeing Pippa¡¯s legs again. Most of us had short sleeve shirts and shorts on but there was the odd student with long pants. That was me in grade nine. I had run the Harrier in long pants and my legs had chafed the whole way. Even though it had been cold and rainy the previous year, I had still worn shorts and hadn¡¯t minded all that much. Coming in seventy-fifth both years wasn¡¯t anything to boast about but I often wondered if I was a better runner than I knew. I hadn¡¯t really tried before. I knew my shortcomings and being athletic was what I always thought was one of them.

    The afternoon of the Harrier, Pippa and I lined up together. She flashed me a smile and it made me a little weak in the knees. I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for this.

    ¡°Are you ready for this?¡± I asked her. I was trying to deflect from my own nervousness.

    ¡°Are you?¡± she replied. Talk about a loaded response. There was more in that response than I could have imagined. I was asking her if she was ready for the race and I think she was asking me if I was ready for what she had to say. I definitely wasn¡¯t ready for either. I was thinking that maybe the slap was a better deal than what was to come.

    When the whistle blew we all ran down the hill in a pack. There had to have been a hundred or so students mixed with males and females. Coming in seventy-fifth in previous years was being in the bottom percentile. I didn¡¯t think about it then but that was certainly not something of which to be proud.

    Pippa and I kept pace with the middle group. Ahead of us were the athletes who had something to prove and behind us were the ones who didn¡¯t care and were just there as an excuse not to attend class. I didn¡¯t know what the middle pack represented. Maybe these were ones who just wanted to socialize with their friends or could go either way with their concern. Some would break off and challenge the athletes ahead. It would always happen.

    I kept waiting for a signal from Pippa but it didn¡¯t happen until we turned onto the first side street. Typically that was where most slowed down or walked and those in the middle who thought themselves more athletically inclined would pick up speed and sprint on ahead. I looked at Pippa and she didn¡¯t show any signs of slowing down. I tossed her a questioning look.

    Pippa just put out a hand containing a small note. It said one word: ¡°Run.¡± I turned to her and I saw her start to pull ahead.

    ¡°Pippa! What does this mean?¡± I shouted after her. She just kept on lengthening the gap between us.

    I started to run faster. I started to close the gap but I realized she could really run. In my effort to catch up, I realized we were passing others in the group. These were the ones who were trying to challenge the leaders. I was glad I was wearing shorts. If I had worn pants like the first year, my legs would have been chafed raw.

    I caught up to her as we were rounding the corner of the next side street that would take us to the main street that would meet up with the street the school was on. It wasn¡¯t a very long street. It might have been a block long or a little more with maybe a dozen houses on each side. They were all single-story homes. Some had attached garages while others had attached carports with openings at either end. Some had fenced yards with some wooden fences and others chain link. It looked like a quiet neighbourhood.

    Halfway up the street on the right was one of the single-story homes with a carport and a chain link fence. It also had a good sized maple tree in the front yard. It was one of the few houses that didn¡¯t sport brickwork or siding. Its sole eye-catching feature was that it was painted an avocado green that had been so popular in the 1970s. This alone should have made the house stand out but what drew my eye was a white bristol-board sign tacked to the tree with balloons hanging from the bottom. It sported a message in big pink letters: RUN, PINK, RUN.

    I couldn¡¯t believe it. I was sure that it was meant for me but Pippa said nothing and kept running. She pushed hard and pulled ahead of me again. I was almost to the point of being winded but I had to see this through. I thought we were going to talk but if she wanted a race, given all of my recent anger and confusion, I was going to give her one.

    We turned onto the main street and ran north towards the corner where we would turn left and back onto the street that held our school and the last leg of the Harrier. I think at that point, I had run at least five miles in my mind where it had really been about half the race or a single mile. My heart and lungs were pounding and my head was dizzy with questions. Why were we racing each other? Why wasn¡¯t she talking to me? What was with the house with the sign encouraging me to run?

    When we reached the corner, I could see some of the runners ahead of us running back up the street to the school. There was a long flat section and then the street started to rise on a hill with the school perched at the top. I didn¡¯t know what was driving Pippa but she continued to propel herself forward without slowing. I used everything I had in me to keep pace with her. We passed other racers. I lost count but they fell behind us as we ran.

    As we began to run up the hill, I thought about passing her. I wanted so much to excel at her little game. The thought was fleeting. She drew on some kind of reserve of energy to put on a last-minute spurt and nosed me out at the finish.

    There were student volunteers waiting at the front of the school signalling the end point of the race. I threw myself down on my back on the grass just past them with my knees bent straight up and started to pant heavily. I was winded and my legs ached. Pippa did a slow lap around me and eventually flopped down on the grass next to me.

    ¡°What are your names?¡± I looked up to see one of the student volunteers looking over us.

    ¡°What?¡± was all I could think to ask. I could barely say that because I was breathing so heavily.

    ¡°What are your names?¡± she asked again. ¡°I have to put it down.¡± I noticed then she was holding a pen and clipboard.

    ¡°Pippa Bailey,¡± Pippa replied.

    ¡°Jeff Carter,¡± I gave out as I was catching my breath.

    ¡°Bailey, you¡¯re ninth. Carter, you¡¯re tenth.¡± I think she might have given us our times for completing the race but I didn¡¯t care.

    My heart was slowing and I could breathe a little more normally. I rolled over and looked at Pippa. She was pulling casually at some blades of grass and throwing them into the air.

    ¡°What the hell was that all about?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I needed to know if you could keep up. Now we can talk.¡± She continued to play with the grass as if nothing had happened. It didn¡¯t seem like she had just run a marathon. I wondered if she had done this before. Of course, that wasn¡¯t the foremost question in my mind. What was she playing at?

    ¡°Talk? You want to talk now?¡± She wanted to talk and I could barely speak a few words after all that running. None of this made any sense to me.

    ¡°Not now, Pink. Where¡¯s that note I gave you?¡±

    ¡°You mean the one that said RUN?¡± I was still clutching it in my right hand. My palms were sweaty and the paper was damp but I could still make out the one-word message.

    ¡°Turn it over,¡± she said.

    I turned it over. On the back were the words ¡®Saturday¡¯ followed by ¡®one o¡¯clock.¡¯ Underneath was an address. I recognized the street name. It had been the side street with the green house and bristol-board sign.

    ¡°That¡¯s my address. Come Saturday and we¡¯ll talk. Now that I know that you can keep up with me, it¡¯ll be easier for you.¡± She got up and jogged away, leaving me still winded and still confused. I held that little scrap of paper as tightly as I could. To me, it was like an admission to an event or show. I wondered what Saturday would bring.

    It had been a tough week. The previous week I had met the brother on the motorcycle and the next day I had my face slapped. Now I had run the Harrier and been invited to Pippa¡¯s home for a talk. It never even occurred to me at the time that finishing the Harrier in the top ten was even significant. I sat up and watched the other runners come in. When I heard the volunteer announce to another student that he had finished seventy-fifth, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. That had been me, two years in a row and now I finished tenth but I was still running a marathon with Pippa that had no end in sight.

 5. The Confusion of the Long Distance Runner

    The day after running the Harrier, I was called to the main office of the school. I wasn¡¯t sure what that was all about because I had never even had so much as an overdue library book. I thought maybe it was related to my fake illness the previous Friday but the school didn¡¯t know I was faking. My Mother was the one who had phoned in my absence. Surely they had trusted her?

    At the main office, I was directed to the Vice-Principal¡¯s office. The door had Mr. Russell¡¯s name and his title. I had seen him around and he spoke in some assemblies but I had never had a face-to-face with him before. I knocked and entered as I had been told to do.

    ¡°Jeff Carter?¡± Mr. Russell inquired.

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± I replied with a mouth as dry as the Sahara. What was this all about?

    ¡°Did you run the Harrier yesterday?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes sir, I did. I had signed up and they wrote my name down at the end. Is this what this is about? I didn¡¯t skip. I was there, you can check.¡± I was sure that something had been fouled somewhere and I had been marked as absent and now they were checking up on me.

    ¡°No, no, nothing of the sort,¡± he reassured me. ¡°Sit down,¡± he continued and pointed at a chair opposite his desk.

    ¡°Oh okay,¡± I stammered and then took the seat. ¡°I was there but there wasn¡¯t any trouble. Did someone say I did something?¡±

    ¡°No, no,¡± he said again. ¡°I just want to congratulate you on your tenth-place finish.¡±

    ¡°Thank you?¡± I said but it came out more as a question. Is this what normally happened when you finished at the top in the Harrier? You get pulled out of class just to be congratulated by the Vice Principal? It seemed like a gesture of excess to me.

    ¡°You¡¯re probably confused. Let me explain,¡± he went on. ¡°I¡¯m not only the Vice Principal but I coach the track and field team as well¡­specifically the boys running team. We host the Harrier every year to try and find new blood for the team. We¡¯ve got a number of our senior boys graduating in a couple of months and we need to start building a team for next fall. Your tenth-place finish caught our attention. What would you think about trying out for the team?

    So that was it. Finishing tenth not only got me next to Pippa but it put me on the radar of the Vice Principal/Coach.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never given it much thought. If you check previous years, I finished seventy-fifth in grades nine and ten. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m cut out for long distance running.¡± I didn¡¯t want to have to explain that my top ten finish was the result of me chasing after a female student in his school.

    ¡°We know about your previous finishes. We keep it on file. We have to keep track of students who run the race and those who say they did and skipped off somewhere else. Give it some thought.¡± He paused for a moment to see if he could determine if I was seriously considering the opportunity. He obviously didn¡¯t care what my motivation had been for running so hard in the Harrier.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think on it,¡± I replied. I really wasn¡¯t going to think on it. As far as I was concerned I was done with the Harrier and running in general. My tenth-place finish seemed like a cheat because I really hadn¡¯t run the race for the sport of it. I would have been just as happy to have finished seventy-fifth.

    ¡°I¡¯m holding a try-out tomorrow after school. I hope I¡¯ll see you there.¡± I think he sensed that I wasn¡¯t as invested as he was. Damn, I thought at that moment, I¡¯m going to have to show up to that practice just to see the expression change on his smug face when he¡¯d seen he¡¯d pegged me wrong.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there sir,¡± I stated with as much enthusiasm as I thought that both of us could stand.

    ¡°Call me Coach,¡± he replied, ¡°if you show up. If not, then it¡¯s Mr. Russell.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± I didn¡¯t address him either way. I quickly let myself out and cursed him and the Harrier under my breath. Maybe I should have cursed Pippa too. I held that in reserve in case I needed it for after our talk on Saturday.

    I didn¡¯t see much of Pippa over the next couple of days. We were in the regular classes together but she seemed preoccupied and I didn¡¯t want to push her. She had given me a time and date and place and it was clear she was in control.

    I had thought about telling her about my meeting with Mr. Russell. I was wondering if her ninth-place visit had afforded her a conversation with the coach of the girls track team whoever that was. How would I have explained that I was considering attending the try-out because I wanted to show up the Vice-Principal? Pride is a great motivator but I didn¡¯t think it was warranted in my case.

    Friday afternoon had cooled off and was cloudy. I remember there being a hint of rain in the air. I remember it clearly because I had dressed in shorts for the track meet-up and when I arrived, everyone else, including Mr. Russell, were wearing track pants. I had underestimated the forecast.

    Let me be clear about my athletic prowess back then¡­I had none. Gym class was compulsory in the first two years of high school so I was glad not to include it as an elective in grade eleven. Maybe I should also be clear it wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t possess athletic skills but rather I didn¡¯t have athletic inclination of any kind. At our school, there were jocks and brainers and I fell squarely in the middle. It was easier keeping your head down and not belonging. No one wanted to take a poke at a person in the middle and no one usually teased you for excelling athletically or academically. Of course, having my face slapped proved I had strayed outside my lane of comfort and that was something that still needed to be addressed or remedied. That would depend on Saturday and Pippa.

    There were eight of us altogether who met Friday afternoon at the school track. It was a quarter-mile track located out back and past the parking lot. Clearly we eight had been selected from the top finishers of the Harrier but I recognized I had passed some of the others along the route. Perhaps the Coach selected from the top fifteen or top twenty. It was obvious that Mr. Russell was hedging his bet that expanding his selection might yield him some likely new candidates.

    ¡°When I call your name, call out. I need to record who¡¯s here,¡± Mr. Russell began.

    I was the second name he called alphabetically and I¡¯m sure there was a note of surprise when I chirped out ¡°here.¡±

    After the roll call, Mr. Russell strolled over to the track and called out the first four names on his list. ¡°You four, line up side-by-side, here in front of me.¡±

    I jostled with the others and ended up in the middle. I wanted the outside or the inside because I didn¡¯t trust anyone to cross into my lane or elbow me as we ran.

    ¡°Okay,¡± he continued, ¡°this is a quarter-mile track. We¡¯re not going to run a full mile today. I want you to pace yourself and run two laps around the track. I¡¯m not looking for speed. Long distance sprinting is the goal here. I just want you to complete the run. Show me what you¡¯ve got. I¡¯ll count you down. On your mark, get set, GO!¡±

    When Russell had said ¡®on your mark¡¯ I wasn¡¯t sure if I should crouch like I had seen athletes do on television or remain standing upright. When I saw no movement to the left or right of me suggesting anyone else crouching, I remained standing but on the ready. When he shouted out ¡°GO!¡± we all lunged ahead. I had no desire to run the race but I also wanted to finish the race so I could show Russell I could do it and maybe upset him when I would tell him I wasn¡¯t interested in joining the team after all.

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    Two of the other boys started to pull ahead and soon the remaining runner and I fell in close to each other. I didn¡¯t really put in much effort but I also didn¡¯t want to come in last. I came in last. Rounding the last corner of the second lap, the runner next to me doubled down and pulled ahead of me. He managed to catch up with the guy who was running in second and nudged him out as they ran past Mr. Russell. I wasn¡¯t impressed. Let this guy show off if he wants, I thought. I wasn¡¯t there for that. Russell could take his pick of the others. I was a middle man. I didn¡¯t need to excel.

    I did a slow walk around to cool off while Mr. Russell called for the remaining four to line up. When they were off around the track, Russell came up to me.

    ¡°Carter, why are you here?¡± I sensed condescension in his voice.

    ¡°Because you asked me to come out,¡± I replied. I thought the truth was probably my best answer and it showed my condescension for him.

    ¡°I know that,¡± he responded rather commonly for someone I was trying to insult. ¡°But why did you come out? I didn¡¯t expect you would. Still, you came in tenth in the Harrier so I expected you¡¯d show me more.¡±

    I thought I had shown him everything I wanted to show him. I had shown up after he had expected me not to and then I had completed the half-mile run when he probably had thought I¡¯d quit before the end. I didn¡¯t think I owed him any other explanation.

    ¡°I guess this isn¡¯t for me, Mr. Russell.¡± There was no sense in calling him Coach if I wasn¡¯t going to stick around.

    ¡°Tell me one thing, Carter, how did you come in tenth in the Harrier? We both know you finished seventy-fifth in previous years. How did you finish so much higher in the rankings? Did you cheat? Did you take a shortcut?¡±

    Now I was mad. He hadn¡¯t expected much from me and now he was accusing me of cheating.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t cheat¡± I exclaimed loudly. ¡°Ask some of these other guys, I passed them by. I earned that tenth-place finish!¡±

    ¡°But how?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°Because I was chasing a girl!¡± I yelled.

    Russell looked me over and then stepped back as if to size me up. ¡°That¡¯s a new one on me, Carter. Guys run for lots of reasons and sometimes it¡¯s to impress a girl but never to chase a girl. Tell me, did you catch her?¡±

    I let out a little laugh. ¡°Not yet, sir, I¡¯m still running that race.¡±

    Russell chuckled too. ¡°Okay Carter, now we know your motivation. Why don¡¯t you channel that into your running?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want to continue running,¡± I answered frankly.

    ¡°Your call, but do me one more favour. Run the track again. Just one lap. I¡¯ll have Dawkins who finished first in your group run with you.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I replied hesitantly, ¡°but don¡¯t expect much.¡±

    ¡°Remember this time, Carter, you¡¯re not running a race, you¡¯re chasing that girl.¡± I thought that was an odd way to motivate me. Russell went over and spoke with Dawkins.

    After the second group of four finished their two laps, Dawkins and I lined up. I had caught my breath by then and was about as ready to run again as I ever would. Mr. Russell started his prep lead in and then Dawkins and I took off. Immediately Dawkins pulled ahead.

    ¡°Chase that girl,¡± I heard Russell yell at me. Again, I thought that was an odd motivation but I thought why not use it. I pretended that Dawkins was Pippa and that I was angry and frustrated for her making me run. It wasn¡¯t very hard to imagine that. I was still angry with Pippa and lately, I was constantly frustrated.

    I closed the gap with Dawkins around the last turn and soon I passed him. I was picturing racing side by side with Pippa and my only thought was Pippa¡¯s passing and I have to catch her. When I reached where Mr. Russell was standing, I kept on running. I kept up the same pace and completed a second lap and kept on running. I thought maybe Russell would shout at me to stop but he didn¡¯t. I completed a third and fourth lap to complete the mile. My lungs were burning and I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. My legs were on fire and even though I had on shorts, I didn¡¯t feel the cold. I walked a few circles to try and slow my heart rate. I saw Russell watching me and then writing something down on his clipboard.

    ¡°Not bad Carter, I¡¯ve seen the mile run faster but not by much.¡± There was no smugness on his face.

    ¡°Thanks, Coach,¡± I panted.

    ¡°Coach eh?¡± he commented. ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re sticking around?¡±

    ¡°Like I said Coach, I¡¯m still running a marathon after that girl. I need all the training I can get.¡±

    Coach laughed and then told us the school was still open and to hit the showers. ¡°Regular practice starts Monday after school.¡±

    I skipped showering at the school and grabbed up my backpack and ran all the way home. My thoughts were of Pippa and what tomorrow would bring. I was running to keep up with her. Would it work? When I got home, I took a cold shower.

    On Saturday I walked to the school because I wanted to run the track again. I wasn¡¯t trying to prove anything to myself but I wanted to work out some of my frustrations before I went to Pippa¡¯s house. I had worn my shorts again and carried a backpack with street clothes to change into.

    When I got to the track I could see it wasn¡¯t empty. There was one solitary figure sprinting around the track. As I got closer, I recognized Dawkins from the previous day. I didn¡¯t know him very well. I was sure he was in one of the junior grades because he was in none of my classes. It might have been his first year for all I knew.

    Dawkins gave me a slight wave as he pulled around the last corner. When he came even with me, he stopped.

    ¡°Good run yesterday,¡± he greeted me as he jogged in place. ¡°How did you finish in the Harrier?¡±

    ¡°Tenth,¡± I replied. I didn¡¯t remember passing him in that race but admittedly my focus had been elsewhere.

    ¡°Sixth,¡± he stated without any sense of bragging.

    ¡°Jeff Carter,¡± I said, offering my hand. ¡°Was this your first year running the Harrier?¡±

    ¡°Ben Dawkins,¡± he responded taking up my hand. ¡°First time with the Harrier but I¡¯ve done some running before. I used to run at my old school but not competitively.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is this your first year at this school too?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Too?¡± He looked confused. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were new here.¡±

    ¡°No, not me,¡± I explained. ¡°My friend is new here as well. She came from another school.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s that? What school did she go to?¡±

    ¡°Pippa Bailey. I¡¯m not sure where she went last year. She¡¯s never mentioned it. She ran the Harrier with me and came in ninth.¡±

    ¡°Did you let her win?¡±

    ¡°Not deliberately. I¡¯m still working that out.¡± I was trying to protect my pride. I didn¡¯t want to have to explain too much.

    ¡°Wait, did you say, Pippa Bailey? Yeah, I know her. At least I know of her. She was at my school last year. She¡¯s a year ahead of me. Pretty, blonde hair, sing-song sort of voice?¡± I was surprised to hear he had picked up on those qualities. Those were words I would have used to describe her.

    ¡°That¡¯s her. Did you know her well?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You two an item?¡± he responded by answering my question with a question of his own.

    ¡°No, well right now I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s complicated.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe the ease with which I was sharing these things with Dawkins.

    ¡°Like I said, I know of her. That¡¯s about it.¡± Dawkins seemed genuine and I didn¡¯t think there was any more that he knew that he might be holding back. Still, I had to know.

    ¡°Any inside information you¡¯d care to share? I¡¯m meeting up with her this afternoon.¡± I was wondering if he had more he could share if he was inclined.

    ¡°Only saw her around the school. Sometimes she¡¯d have a group of other kids around her and other times she¡¯d be by herself.

    She gave a speech once about Elvis in public speaking in front of the school. I think she won an award. That¡¯s about it.¡±

    ¡°Brides of Elvis,¡± I found myself muttering aloud.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Dawkins asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s just something she said to me about Elvis once.¡± I didn¡¯t feel I needed to share more than that.

    ¡°Want to race? You gave me a good run yesterday.¡± He was being friendly but I was sensing a competitive spirit.

    ¡°No thanks, I just want to run for the sake of running today.¡± I wasn¡¯t feeling a need for some sort of rematch.

    ¡°Mind if I run alongside of you?¡± he went on. ¡°It would be nice just to have a running partner.¡±

    ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I found myself conceding. ¡°Just a couple times around though.¡±

    ¡°Not the full mile?¡± he asked. ¡°Say, what was that all about yesterday when you beat me out but kept running additional laps?

    ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s complicated, ¡°I replied. ¡°I was trying to work some things out. I¡¯d never run like that before. I guess I was trying to prove something to myself.¡±

    ¡°The track¡¯s a good place to clear your head. Mine¡¯s empty most of the time but you¡¯d be surprised what goes through your head when you¡¯re running.¡±

    Ben was a really nice guy. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything complex to him. I hadn¡¯t met anyone so easy to talk to at first go. Pippa was hard work sometimes and my brother Rod could be a jerk. I hadn¡¯t had too many other close people of my own age since I had started high school. I hadn¡¯t realized how lonely it was in the middle.

    ¡°After you,¡± Ben gestured.

    We both set off at a steady pace and kept even. I sensed he could leave me behind if he wanted to and there was that thought playing in my mind of trying to best him again. Neither of us acted on it. We just ran in silence but kept each other in our side vision.

    When we¡¯d run two laps, we both started walking an extra lap to try and condition ourselves to easing off slowly.

    ¡°Good run,¡± Ben said. ¡°Want to run again, tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I said. I was becoming comfortable with Ben. My thought was there was more than one perk to this running thing. I could work out my frustrations and maybe make a new friend or at least have a listening ear.

    After Ben left, I ducked behind some trees and put on long pants. If I was going to keep up this running thing then I¡¯d have to invest in some sweats for those cooler temperatures. I¡¯d have to ask my parents for some money but I knew that meant I would have to explain to them I¡¯d joined the track team. I knew they¡¯d be proud but I also wondered what Rod would say. I quickly dismissed that thought. I had somewhere else to be.

 6. Revelations at the Avocado House

    The avocado green house stood out by nature of its colour if nothing else.  Gone was the bristol-board sign that had encouraged me to run as I passed it.  As I had noted during the race, it was the only house without brickwork or siding.  It was square with a carport on the right and a paved driveway leading up and ending at the back of the carport.  The roof of the carport sloped down to the right from the house and anyone exiting a car parked in there could enter the side door without getting wet.

    There were two windows on either side of the front door that faced the street.  There was also a small covered porch over the door with an even smaller deck barely wide enough for the two good-sized planters that sat there on either side of the entranceway.  There was also a paving stone walkway that ran from one section of the driveway and across the front of the house to the front door.  Despite not having siding or brickwork as the other houses on the street had, I noticed there was some brickwork on either side of the front door that hemmed in flower beds.  I didn¡¯t know the names of flowers from weeds but the brightly coloured array contrasted oddly against the avocado green of the house.  It seemed like the garden beds were vying for their own attention against the colour of the building.

    I stood looking at the house from the roadway.  The two windows on either side of the front door were not equal height.  The one on the left was larger and had drapes while the one to the right was smaller and had blinds.  I had made my guess already that the room on the left had to be a living room and the one on the right was some sort of kitchen or dining area.  Given the size of the house, I had imagined that the room on the right was more likely a combined kitchen and dining area.  Many of the other houses on the street appeared to have similar layouts.  There wasn¡¯t a two-story building on the street.

    As I stood there checking out the exterior layout, I was trying to make my mind up whether I was to knock on the front door or the one that was accessed through the car-port.  I noticed the blinds on the smaller window to the right part slightly in the middle and a pair of eyes looked out.  I couldn¡¯t tell if they were Pippa¡¯s eyes because the blinds closed just as quickly and a moment later she was leaning out of the side door and beckoning me to that direction.

    ¡°You made it, Pink,¡± she called out.  ¡°I¡¯ve been watching for you.¡±

    I followed her into the house.  There was a small entranceway from the side door that led into a hall.  The entranceway housed a large closet on one side that had a sliding wooden door.  One side was open to reveal some coats hanging on a bar and I could partly see either a washing machine or a dryer in the closed off half.  It seemed to be a fairly wide closet so I could imagine that both laundry machines were behind the closed section.

    ¡°Welcome to the avocado house,¡± Pippa said as she walked ahead of me.  We turned left and walked out into a combined kitchen and dining area.  I had called that correctly.  There were cupboards from floor to ceiling separated by a countertop that ran the full length of one wall.  The living room area was separated by a long bar island with the same type of countertop. Without that bar, the whole front half of the house would have been one large room.

    ¡°I hate the avocado colour of the house at first,¡± Pippa continued, ¡°but my Mother likes it and it¡¯s kind of grown on me.¡±

    ¡°It stands out, that¡¯s for sure,¡± I commented.

    ¡°Want to see my bedroom?¡± Pippa asked.

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s okay?¡±  I didn¡¯t think anyone else was home but I was still a little nervous about going into a girl¡¯s bedroom even if her parents weren¡¯t home.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Mom¡¯s not home.  She¡¯s working.  She¡¯s a nurse at the hospital.  She won¡¯t be home for a few hours.¡±  Pippa turned and headed back down the hall in the direction from which we had just come.

    I had noticed that the living room was sparsely furnished.  There was a sofa and a chair and some type of wall-unit housing a television, some books and games, and assorted bric-a-brac.  There were neither photos on the walls in the living room nor any in the hallway.

    Pippa led me down the hall and past the entranceway that would lead to the car-port.  It wasn¡¯t a very large house.  I passed a closed door on the left and bathroom on the right.  Past the bathroom and the closed door were two more closed doors on the left and right.  Pippa opened the door on the right and entered.

    My first impression was the pinkness of it all.  Someone obviously liked pink as much as they liked avocado green.

    ¡°I know,¡± Pippa began, ¡°it¡¯s a bit much.  It was that way when we moved in.  It was either pink or the brown panelling in the one across the hall.  That¡¯s my mother¡¯s room.  Mom says we can paint it during the summer.  I¡¯m leaning toward purple.  The other room we passed is Roger¡¯s.  He only uses it when he sleeps over.¡±

    Rod was right.  Obviously, Roger didn¡¯t live here.  It wasn¡¯t the only thing of which I took note.  Pippa didn¡¯t mention her father at all.  The other rooms were Roger¡¯s room and mom¡¯s room.  Pippa had not said anything about her father.

    Pippa¡¯s room wasn¡¯t overly large.  It was maybe eleven or twelve feet square and part of that space had been cut off for a closet which was partially closed.  After the shock of the pink colour was the observation that the room was crammed.  I would have said cluttered but there was organization to it all. There was a bed and a dresser as well as a desk and mid-height bookshelf.  On the wall were quite a few pictures of Elvis.

    There was a small stereo on top of the bookshelf.  It was one of those all-in-one units with turntable, radio tuner, and an opening for eight-tracks.  There were even a stack of eight-track tapes stacked on one of the shelves.  At quick glance, I could see that the majority were Elvis.  There were a couple of Beatles cartridges as well as Abba, The Monkees, The Partridge Family, and even one by Frank Sinatra.

    ¡°Frank Sinatra?¡± I asked as I pointed at the pile of eight-tracks.  ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem to fit with everything.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s his ¡®My Way¡¯ album.  Roger gave me that.  Did you know both Elvis and Sinatra performed My Way?  Elvis sang it on his ¡®Aloha From Hawaii Via Satellite¡¯ special in 1973.  I have that on record.¡±  She pointed to a stack of records in a milk crate on the floor next to the shelf.  ¡°Sinatra even hosted a television special welcoming Elvis home from the army.  They sang some duets together apparently but I¡¯ve never seen it.¡±

    ¡°Did you ever see him in concert?¡± I asked.  ¡°Live I mean,¡± I quickly added.

    ¡°I wish,¡± she exclaimed.  ¡°Elvis only performed in Canada in 1957.  He did two concerts on the second of April at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto and then two concerts the next night in Ottawa.  After that, he did one concert at the end of August in ¡¯57 in Vancouver.  I don¡¯t know why he never came back.  In fact, Canada was the only other country besides the United States that he ever toured in.¡±

    ¡°Impressive,¡± I offered.  ¡°How do you know all that?¡±

    Pippa pulled out a drawer on one side of her desk and extracted a small bundle.  ¡°The Brides of Elvis is a great source of information,¡± she said handing me the bundle.

    In the bundle were about fifteen or twenty booklet type newsletters bearing the title ¡®The Brides of Elvis.¡¯  They were printed on some sort of card stock folded over so each page was roughly four by six.  I removed the elastic and thumbed through some of them.  The magazine appeared to be quarterly or timed with the seasons because there were Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter editions.  Contents seemed to vary with some song lyrics republished or dates of concerts or reviews of records.  There were also facts about Elvis to educate the fan.  The magazine on the top seemed to be the most recent with a ¡®Spring 1977¡¯ title.  It also had a subtitle regarding ¡®Elvis In Canada, 1957, A 20th Anniversary Celebration.¡¯  Pippa was right, this was the source of her information.

    ¡°What happened to the magazine?¡± I asked.  ¡°It seems to stop with Spring of 1977.  Wasn¡¯t there anything after he died?¡±

    ¡°Not until last month,¡± Pippa said, snatching up a loose newsletter from her desktop.

    I took the offered magazine and was immediately struck by the title change.  Here was a Spring 1978 edition with a large photo of a young Elvis with RIP Elvis 1935-1977 under the photo and a banner title over the top sporting the words ¡°The Widows Of Elvis.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s mostly a memorial edition and some thoughts about his passing,¡± she continued.  ¡°There¡¯s some kooky stuff in there, too, about him not really being dead.  That¡¯s the same as the group letters that were mailed out last fall.  I¡¯m not into that.  I told you I was in love with him once and it was a rough time for me last year with Elvis¡¯ death coming on top of everything else.  I think I¡¯m moving out of my Elvis phase to tell you the truth.  I might cancel my subscription.¡±

    ¡°Just a phase, hunh?¡± I commented while swinging my arm about to highlight the photos on the wall and records and eight-tracks.  I wanted to know more about the ¡®coming on top of everything else¡¯ comment but I sensed that was part of what was in store.  I didn¡¯t want to rush her.

    ¡°Say, do you want a Coke or something?¡± she awkwardly asked.  I must have touched on something without realizing it.

    ¡°Do you have Pepsi?¡±  I asked.  I was a little particular back then in my cola choices.

    ¡°Pepsi?¡± Pippa responded as a question.  ¡°That¡¯s my favourite, too.  We keep Coke in the house for Roger but I¡¯m a Pepsi girl.  Two Pepsis coming right up!¡±  Pippa practically skipped out of the room.

    While she was gone, I took further inventory of the room.  Her dresser had an oval mirror with ornate spindles on top of its frame.  Hung from the spindles were some medals and ribbons.  They were medals for track and field events at Collegiate.  Collegiate must have been her high school before coming to my school.  Collegiate was a big red-brick school across town.  It was the oldest school in the city and had a reputation for the athletes who competed for that school.  It was odd that Ben Dawkins had not mentioned that about her when we had talked earlier.  He did say he didn¡¯t run competitively so maybe they never crossed paths on the track.

    The closet door was partly open and I took a peek inside.  It was mostly clothes with a few boxes stacked in the bottom.  There was a shelf that ran along the top and I could just make out some athletic trophies.  I knew that Pippa could run but I didn¡¯t know she had competed.  I also noticed her guitar leaning against the back of the closet.  I thought back on the one and only appearance of The Carlottas and reached in and gave the guitar a quick strum.

    ¡°Do you play?¡± I heard Pippa ask from behind me.  I was only slightly startled but kept it in check.  I took the Pepsi offered to me.

    ¡°No,¡± I responded, ¡°no musical talent here.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you saw the trophies and medals?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes, remarkable.  I didn¡¯t know you competed.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t anymore.  That¡¯s another phase I¡¯m moving out of.¡±  She took a long sip from her bottle and was quiet for a moment.  Then she asked me, ¡°did you enjoy your run?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you mean the Harrier?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, after school yesterday,¡± she said.  ¡°I saw you running the track with some other guys.¡±

    ¡°You saw that?¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure what to think.  How could I explain she was the reason why I had run four times around the track?

    ¡°You ran the mile.  The other guy running against you gave up after the first lap.  What was that all about?¡±

    ¡°It was only supposed to be one lap,¡± I responded.  ¡°I kept running because I had some energy to burn off,¡± I lied.  Again, I didn¡¯t want her to know she was the reason I was running.

    ¡°Looked to me like you had something to prove,¡± she said.

    ¡°Well partly, Coach Russell didn¡¯t think I was that good.  I wanted to prove him wrong.   It¡¯s a bit your fault because I wouldn¡¯t have been asked to the try-out if I hadn¡¯t come in tenth in the Harrier.  Say, wait a minute, you came in ninth,¡± I recalled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you get asked to try out for the girls¡¯ team?¡±

    ¡°Miss Frost asked me but I said no.  Like I said, I¡¯m moving out of that phase.  I¡¯ve done the running bit before and the winning bit.  I¡¯m not like you.  I don¡¯t have anything to prove.¡±  She took another long sip of her Pepsi and stayed quiet.

    ¡°But you¡¯re really good,¡± I observed and pointed at the medals hanging from her mirror.

    ¡°I know that, Pink,¡± she said quietly.  ¡°Running just isn¡¯t me anymore.  I¡¯m putting some things behind me.  I don¡¯t want to be known as the girl who runs or the girl who loved Elvis.¡±  She was quiet for a minute then said ¡°or the girl who slapped her best friend.¡±

    There it was.  There I was.  Standing in her room wondering why I was there and how I was going to reconcile my feelings about her and she ups and labels me her best friend.  I recalled what she had said after she had slapped me. ¡®I¡¯m not sure why I¡¯m friends with you.  Tell me Pink, what do you bring to this friendship?¡¯  Had I moved up in the friendship chain in her estimation?  I felt like I should run away and keep on running.  I wanted to run so hard and so fast that my legs would give out and I¡¯d collapse somewhere far from the avocado house.  The only thing that was stopping me was that I was weak in the knees from this new best friend slap.

    Pippa must have sensed how I felt because she gestured to the bed and asked me to sit down.  She sat next to me and I felt a range of emotions.  The closeness of her stirred something in my loins but then my heart was racing as well.  I had never sat this close to a girl that I had loved from the first time I had seen her.  I couldn¡¯t act.  I couldn¡¯t speak.  I was only the best friend; only the best friend as if that was some sort of consolation prize.

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    Pippa was quiet for what seemed like an eternity.  I was sure she could hear the sound of my heart beating and I was sure that my breathing alone was a giveaway to how I felt.

    ¡°How do you do it, Pink?¡± she finally began.  ¡°How do you sit there so calmly as if you¡¯ve moved on from the slap?  You¡¯re so calm like you¡¯ve got everything figured out.¡±

    I wanted to say that I had nothing figured out.  I wanted to say I didn¡¯t know what the hell I was doing there.  I wanted to tell her I was far from calm on the inside.  On the inside, I was back running around that track again and thinking that Pippa¡¯s passing and I have to keep up with her.  In the end, I just shrugged, and said ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I used to think I had it all figured out, Pink.  I wanted to be the best at everything.  I was going to be the best athlete.  I was going to be Student Body President.  I was going to marry Elvis.  I was going to be a singer-songwriter and become famous and leave everyone and everything behind.  Now I don¡¯t know.  Have you figured out what you want to do with your life, Pink?¡±  Pippa turned and stared into my eyes.  The thought of fleeing was ever-present in my mind.

    ¡°I thought I¡¯d like to write or maybe teach or do both,¡± I answered.

    ¡°Write?¡± she asked.  ¡°If you ever become I writer I want you to write my story.  Write our story.  Write about everything.  Write about how I am now and how you and I got here.  It¡¯s important Pink.  Promise me you¡¯ll write my story.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what kind of story she was asking me to write.  I didn¡¯t know her history.  I could piece some things together from what she told me about being one of the Brides of Elvis or about her athletics or The Carlottas.  It would have to be a short story because I didn¡¯t know much and our future was yet to be written.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got the perfect title,¡± I finally said after finding my tongue.  ¡°It has to be ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing¡¯.  It calls attention to you.  Remember?  ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing.  Take note.  Don¡¯t let your chance go by.  Give her your vote¡¯.  It¡¯s also how you and I began.¡±

    Pippa didn¡¯t laugh.  She hung her head and her long hair obscured her face.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want that now, Pink.  Everything¡¯s different now.  You know, I looked up that story ¡®Pippa Passes¡¯ after you told me about it.  Didn¡¯t you notice the collected works of Robert Browning on my desk?¡±

    I glanced past Pippa to her desk and saw a leather-bound volume with a library sticker on it.  I had told her about ¡®Pippa Passes¡¯ the previous fall.  How long or how often had she checked out that book, I wondered.

    ¡°Pippa in that story makes everyone she passes happier,¡± she continued.  ¡°How do I do that Pink if I¡¯m not always happy?  It means putting myself out there again and trying to be the best so everyone will notice me.  I¡¯m not sure I can do that Pink.  Sometimes Carlotta pulls me back and I¡¯m so alone.¡±

    I reached out and linked my arm in hers.  It was the safest gesture I knew.  It was one she had initiated so many times before.

    ¡°Pippa,¡± I started softly.  ¡°I can¡¯t write a story I don¡¯t know.  I could write what has happened with you and I up to now but I don¡¯t know the rest.¡±

    Pippa looked up at me again.  ¡°You¡¯re right Pink, you don¡¯t know the rest.  I asked you here today to tell you.  I know it¡¯s probably been confusing for you.  First I slap you and then I make you run.  I had to be sure you could handle my story.  To tell you the truth, I was stalling for time.  I wanted to tell you.  I want to tell you.  But I needed to figure out how to tell you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a pretty good listener, Pippa.  Start where you want to start and tell me what you want to tell me.¡±  I was trying to make out that what she had to tell me was only important if she wanted to tell it to me.  The truth was that I needed to know everything.  I had been reeling from what Rod had told me about Pippa and Roger.  It couldn¡¯t be true.  That was the one part of the story that I needed her to tell me.

    ¡°You know, Pink, I sometimes try to find the words in an Elvis song to help describe things I¡¯m feeling.  It doesn¡¯t always work but there are a couple of songs that have been running through my mind.  In his song ¡®Suspicious Minds¡¯ part of the lyrics says ¡®We¡¯re Caught In A Trap, I Can¡¯t Walk Out¡¯.¡±  She was silent for a moment and then she started to sing softly.  ¡°We can''t go on together with suspicious minds.  And we can''t build our dreams on suspicious minds.¡±  She stopped and was silent again.

    I knew the song and her brief version was tender and sad.  My arm was still linked in hers and I could feel her shudder a little.  I had heard many Elvis songs and the one that I was feeling right then was ¡®All Shook Up.¡¯

    Pippa started to sing again.  Her voice was low and almost faint and I had to really listen to make out the lyrics.

    ¡°Maybe I didn''t treat you

    Quite as good as I should have

    Little things I should have said and done

    I just never took the time

    You were always on my mind

    You were always on my mind

    If I made you feel second best

    Pink, I''m so sorry I was blind

    You were always on my mind

    You were always on my mind¡±

    I knew that song, too.  She was abbreviating it for her own purpose.  Gone were any lyrics related to love but here was a girl singing to me about how she¡¯d mistreated me.  In that moment I couldn¡¯t have loved her more.  I struggled not to tear up or show any emotion.  I pulled on her arm, linked in mine as if to say ¡°I hear you.¡±  She pulled back on my arm in the same acknowledgement.

    ¡°There are no words or lyrics for what comes next, Pink.¡±  She had been quiet for a moment after singing those last lyrics but she lifted her head and spoke clearly.  She looked off into the room, not looking directly at me.  ¡°I asked you once to be patient and give me time.  I guess I¡¯ve had enough time now to figure out how to tell you my story.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to¡­¡± I replied but she quickly cut me off.

    ¡°Let me speak, Pink, or I¡¯ll lose my nerve.¡±

    I stared away from her so as not to pressure her but my arm still held hers so that she knew I was listening.

    ¡°You see the medals and the trophies.  That was me.  It wasn¡¯t that I was competitive but I was someone who craved the spotlight.  Running, dance, guitar, and everything was my way to get that attention.  I don¡¯t know why I needed it.  It wasn¡¯t like it is now.  My parents gave me all the love and attention I needed.  Roger and I were like best friends.  Now you see how it is.¡±

    I didn¡¯t see how it is or was or whatever.  I sensed something coming and I may have tensed up but Pippa didn¡¯t react.  She just kept on.

    ¡°My parents indulged me with music lessons and dance and my Elvis obsession.  That was until May of last year.  That¡¯s when it all fell apart.¡±

    I could hear the words start to catch in her throat and that little shudder I had felt earlier came again.  Pippa was struggling and I couldn¡¯t do anything to help her.  She had signalled that I shouldn¡¯t say anything and to let her get on with it.

    ¡°I knew my parents were having some problems,¡± she continued.  ¡°There were loud whispers at night and sometimes it seemed like they weren¡¯t talking at all to each other.  I tried to ask Roger about it but he said he didn¡¯t know and that we should probably leave it alone.  Still, I was worried.¡±

    Pippa started to sob gently and I hooked my arm tighter to try and bolster her courage.

    Through her sobs, she told me the rest.

    ¡°My father started drinking more.  He wasn¡¯t an alcoholic or anything like that, Pink.  He¡¯d go out and he¡¯d come back and he¡¯d be drunk.  It wasn¡¯t often but I¡¯d hear him come in late at night or he¡¯d be sleeping on the couch in the morning.  Like I said, it wasn¡¯t often but I didn¡¯t know what to do.  My mother never talked about it to us and Roger was keeping mum.  I felt so helpless.¡±

    ¡°One night my mother was working an evening shift and my father was out.  Roger and I were both asleep when she came home and later when my father got back.¡±  She stopped for a moment and the sobs became heavier but she struggled to continue.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear him come in.  I didn¡¯t hear him open my door.  The next thing I knew, he was getting into my bed.¡±  The sobbing became almost uncontrollable and she began to rock back and forth.  I threw away all caution and unhooked my arm and put it around her.  She leaned into my chest and continued to cry for what seemed like an eternity.

    ¡°Oh my god, Pippa,¡± was all I could think to say.  ¡°Oh my god,¡± I repeated again.

    Eventually, the crying returned to a gentle sob and then she was able to find her voice again.  She detached herself from me and stared off into the room again.

    ¡°I want you to know,¡± she said through the last of her sobs, ¡°nothing happened.  I screamed and he jumped out of the bed looking confused.  My mother and Roger were there at my door after I screamed.  My father kept saying he had the wrong room.  He reeked of alcohol but he kept saying he had the wrong room.¡±

    So this was the true story.  Whatever Rod had heard was wrong and bad enough but this was so much worse.

    ¡°My mother ran to me and screamed at my father to get out.  Roger just stood there as if his world had fallen apart.  He ran to his room and I think I could hear him crying.  My father left.  I don¡¯t know where he went that night.  He didn¡¯t drive.  He just walked away.  The next morning my mother bundled us off to my grandparents.¡±

    The emotional toil that telling her story had taken on Pippa had to have been unbearable but she had gotten through it.  I was still reeling myself.  I hadn¡¯t imagined anything like that.  I wanted to grab her and hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright but I didn¡¯t know if it would.  Things were going to change between us.  I knew that for sure.  There was no way I could pursue her romantically.  The fact that she had bared herself to me brought us closer together but I had to stay her friend.  I felt it was what she needed from me.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen my father since.  My mother won¡¯t let me see him.  That was almost a year ago but everything is still like it was.  I had to attend Collegiate while living at my grandparents.  Mom drove me every day and wouldn¡¯t let me out of her sight when we were together.  Roger and I had to see a counsellor at Collegiate.  I think I cried every time I had to see her.  Roger just got moodier and I think he blamed me for the way things were.¡±

    ¡°What about your parents?  Do they speak?¡±  I wanted to know all the details.  There were parts that were still missing for me.

    ¡°Not at first,¡± she replied.  ¡°My father called all the time in the beginning but after a while, he stopped calling.  I think it was more than a month before she started taking his calls again.  Eventually, she agreed to see him.  He had quit drinking altogether by then but my mom still didn¡¯t trust him.  She certainly wouldn¡¯t let him see me.  She agreed to let Roger visit him but no overnights.  Eventually, Roger told my mom he wanted to live with my father.  Roger was eighteen so she couldn¡¯t really stop him.¡±

    Pippa stopped for a moment and drained the rest of her drink before continuing.

    ¡°I had been seeing the counsellor but I hated every minute of it.  I hated going to Collegiate.  I thought everyone was staring at me and whispering ¡®there goes the girl who¡¯...¡±  She trailed off but then continued after a few seconds.

    ¡°The counsellor tried to convince me it wasn¡¯t my fault.  She was telling me that maybe my father had his own struggles but confusing my room with his own was an honest mistake.  I didn¡¯t know what to think.  My mother wasn¡¯t saying anything about it but she was keeping him away from me.  Even Roger wouldn¡¯t talk about it.  I think he had forgiven my father and probably agreed with the counsellor that there was nothing to it.  He was seeing the same counsellor as I was after all.¡±

    ¡°When did you move here?¡± I asked.  I wanted her to know I was still listening by at least engaging in the story with questions every so often.

    ¡°Last summer,¡± she responded.  ¡°Mom knew how unhappy I was at Collegiate so she found this house for rent.  She thought a new part of town and a new school would do me good.  I didn¡¯t care by then.  I was just glad to be somewhere else.  Mom negotiated with my father to get our stuff.  I wasn¡¯t even allowed to go back to my old home and help pack.  Frankly, I was too scared.  That house was the scene of my worst nightmare.  I haven¡¯t been back since we left the day after it all happened.  As much as I hated the relocation and the colour of my new room, I feel safe here.¡±  She went quiet again for a few seconds then added ¡°I feel safe with you.¡±

    Safety and friendship were beginning to be my stock in trade.  At that point, I knew I should take it over being pushed away or slapped around.

    ¡°I was glad not to go back to Collegiate after the summer,¡± she went on.  ¡°I think I had cut all the ties in the last two months of the school year.  I gave up track.  The Coach didn¡¯t even ask why.  I think she must have known or heard something.  Rumours were flying around that school; vicious and stupid rumours about Roger and I.  I guess some people had heard Roger and I were seeing a counsellor and then came up with the nasty story that Roger and I had been found in bed together.  Most of my friends drifted away.  Screw them.  Who needs that type of friend?  Now I¡¯m with you and Sandra at a new school.  I¡¯m trying to build on that.¡±

    I had forgotten about her cousin.

    ¡°Does Sandra know everything?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Most of it.  She was the only one I knew when I came to this school.  She also had heard rumours through the family grapevine.  Of course, she didn¡¯t believe any of it.  She knows what happened but she doesn¡¯t know fully how it¡¯s affected me.  You¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve told outside of the counsellor since last year.¡±

    I was sure that Pippa wasn¡¯t giving her cousin due credit.  Her cousin had been the one who warned me that Pippa¡¯s history had pitfalls.  She had also cautioned me to be careful I didn¡¯t fall in.  Now, here were all the pitfalls laid bare to me.  It was clear that the friendship zone was the only safe passage around those pitfalls.

    ¡°Do you want to know why I was so angry about that motorcycle?  I¡¯ve had no contact with my father and not a single gift for my birthday or Christmas.  I don¡¯t know, maybe he tried to reach out to me or maybe he tried to send gifts.  My mother filters everything.  No contact.  No communication.  I don¡¯t even know if she and my father are still talking.  I¡¯ve tried to ask Roger but he says I need to go through my mother.  My father buys Roger a god-damn motorcycle but I¡¯m the one who had to change my entire life, change my school, and have to live in the avocado house with my mother.¡±

    There was a lot of bitterness now in Pippa¡¯s tone.  I understood why I had been slapped.  I hadn¡¯t made it a big deal and had been honest enough or stupid enough to tell her that.  She had been looking for an ally and without the family history that I now knew, I had made myself an easy target when I questioned her at school about it.

    ¡°Pippa, I¡¯m sorry that I didn¡¯t understand about the motorcycle.  I just didn¡¯t know.¡±  I felt I owed her that at least.

    ¡°No, Pink, don¡¯t be sorry,¡± she replied.  ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known.  I guess when I was slapping you, I was really slapping my father and Roger to some extent.  I¡¯m the one who¡¯s sorry.  You¡¯ve been nothing but kind and understanding since we met.  I guess that¡¯s what I like about you, Pink.  You don¡¯t ask anything from me.  You don¡¯t ask anything for yourself.¡±

    That was no revelation.  I had been scared to ask anything from her.  I was in love with her and could go no further with my affection.  I had been her friend because I wanted that love returned in some way.  Sitting there beside her on the bed was the closest we were ever going to be, I thought.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere Pippa,¡± I said.  ¡°Remember me telling you I was in for the long haul?¡±

    ¡°I know that Pink, but it might be a bumpy road ahead.  I don¡¯t think there¡¯s an Elvis lyric that could describe what comes next.  I remember you telling me you were in for the long haul but remember I asked you to give me time.  Sometimes I dream of a brighter future.  I just don¡¯t know how to get there.¡±

    ¡°You gotta follow that dream wherever that dream may lead,¡± I said.

    ¡°Pink, that¡¯s from Elvis!¡± she exclaimed and then began to laugh.

    ¡°I told you I had seen that movie.  I remember the song as well.¡±  The joke between us lessened any tension that was left in the room.

    Pippa began to sing again:

    ¡°When your heart gets restless, time to move along

    When your heart gets weary, time to sing a song

    But when a dream is calling you,

    There''s just one thing that you can do

    I''ve got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead

    I gotta follow that dream to find the love I need¡±

    I didn¡¯t read anything into the song.  It had been prompted by me quoting the lyrics.  I hoped she would realize I wanted to give the love she¡¯d need.

    ¡°Thanks for that, Pink.  I guess there is an Elvis song for every purpose.  You know I was so caught up in what happened to me last year that when Elvis died I shifted all of my sorrow and anger into grieving for him.  I guess that¡¯s what a Widow of Elvis is supposed to do.  I think I¡¯ll hang on to my Elvis fixation a little longer.¡±

    I was glad she wasn¡¯t giving up on Elvis.  I wasn¡¯t a big fan like her but if she could find something in one of his songs to help her forget everything else then I was glad to share Pippa with Elvis.

    We didn¡¯t hang out for much longer at the avocado house.  It seemed like I had been there for hours and I was worried about her mother coming home.  She didn¡¯t say anything more about her family.  I think she¡¯d told me all there was to tell or all that she cared to tell.

    I decided to tell her about joining the track team and about running the track before coming that afternoon.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve discovered running.  I¡¯ll cheer for you,¡± she told me.

    I told her about changing in the bushes earlier and that made her laugh.  I made my excuse that I had to get home but I really wanted to run some more laps at the track and process everything she had told me.  I could have asked to use her bathroom to change back into my shorts but I was already feeling awkward enough.

    Pippa walked me out and hugged me at the end of her driveway and told me she¡¯d see me on Monday.  I walked back to the school and changed again in the bushes.  No one was there.  My mind was racing with the revelations at the avocado house so I put that energy into my legs and started running.

 7. The Long Haul

    It¡¯s funny how vivid the memories are even today.  The series of events from the day of the slap to running the Harrier and joining track, to the revelations at the funny green house are just as clear to me now as when they first transpired.  Pippa had asked me on that first visit to the avocado house to one day write her story.  These memories, flooding back to me now, are an important chronicle in that story.  They are just as important in Pippa¡¯s story as they would become in my own narrative.

    Ben Dawkins and I officially joined the track team.  I had kept my running appointment with Ben the day after visiting Pippa at her house.  We had run and talked but I couldn¡¯t share anything about Pippa¡¯s disclosures.  I wanted so much to share these things that weren¡¯t mine and to get some advice on how to deal with my own feelings.  Ben didn¡¯t press me that day on my meet-up with Pippa and I didn¡¯t let on there was anything more than the day before when we had run.  But he must have noticed the change in my stride.  I put a lot of energy into my running that day and when he tired, I kept on running.  He didn¡¯t question me about it.

    On Monday, Ben and I showed up at the first official track practice.  Three other guys from the open tryouts were there.  Coach Russell must have been beaming with the notion that five of the eight Harrier finishers had decided to stick it out.  I don¡¯t think he was surprised at all that I was there.  I had given it my all and more at the try-out and I¡¯m sure he sensed that whatever was making me run was going to motivate me for a while.

    There were already ten other athletes at the practice when I got there.  Some were the upper-year students who had been competing for our school during the past few years and some would move on at the end of the school year.  I recognized a few of them.  Most significantly there were the Park brothers.  John and Martin were twins.  Martin preferred to be called Marty but John was probably the better of the two.  To tell the truth, it was difficult to say who the best of the pair was.  John was known for his long distance running and Marty was faster on shorter distances.  Both held track records that I¡¯m sure wouldn¡¯t be bested for years.

    Coach Russell was clear to our new group that we weren¡¯t going to compete for our school in any upcoming events.  We were to train with the others but our competition opportunities would be reserved for the fall.  Coach truthfully didn¡¯t want us competing against any of his students who were graduating.  I think he didn¡¯t want any of us newbies possibly showing up the old squad.

    Practices were three times a week and Ben and I were eventually paired up as pacers for the Park brothers.  John and I would run quarter and half-mile sprints and he was fast.  I never tried to see if I could outrun him because I was afraid that I would probably not show him up and more likely would show how inept I might be at my newfound outlet.

    Pippa was true to her word.  She showed up at every practice and watched from a spot on the grass.  She would often shout ¡°Run, Jeff, Run!¡±  It was the only time she refrained from calling me Pink.  I believed it was a sign of respect.  No one else on the team knew me as Pink but I suspected they had heard my nickname.  Pippa continued to call me Pink in school and when we were alone together.

    Her attitude had improved since she had unburdened herself to me.  Carlotta hadn¡¯t made her presence known in a while.  I wasn¡¯t convinced that Pippa¡¯s demons were completely gone but for a while, she seemed to keep them at bay.  This was the girl I had fallen in love with that first day she had bounced into Thompson¡¯s class.  She wasn¡¯t trying to stand out anymore and I think she was happier for it.  It made me recall why I had fallen in love with her the first time I saw her.

    Sometimes she would bring her guitar to school and we would sit together outside at the end of the day if it wasn¡¯t a practice day.  I was getting good at recognizing the Elvis songs that made up most of her repertoire.  Sometimes she would bring her instrument to the practices and I could hear her instrumental accompaniment of me while I was running.  Occasionally I could hear her sing out to encourage me.  Her standby would often be from ¡®Follow That Dream¡¯ and when she got to the end she would be singing as loud as she could on the closing lyrics ¡®Keep a-movin, move along¡¯ and would keep repeating the phrase until I had finished running my current laps.  One day, I was so distracted by it, that I found myself slipping past John and would have kept on out-pacing him in my enthusiasm.  I realized what I was doing and let off a bit as if I was tiring.  John raced past me and I let him widen the gap to the finish.

    ¡°You have to pace yourself, Carter,¡± he gloated.  ¡°Save something for the finish next time.¡±  I didn¡¯t let on that with Pippa¡¯s encouragement I think I could have beat him for once.

    Pippa seemed genuinely happy for me and my new enthusiasm for running.  I would walk her part-way home after school sometimes or after practices and we¡¯d talk and joke among ourselves.  She wouldn¡¯t let me walk her the full way because her mother was very protective and wouldn¡¯t understand her walking with a boy.  They were good times and I was being a good friend but secretly wanting more.  All of my longing came out in my running.  I¡¯d run home after leaving her or stop sometimes at the track and run a few laps.  My parents had sprung for a decent pair of sneakers and bought me some proper track pants so I didn¡¯t have to change in the bushes anymore.  I could throw the pants on over my shorts whenever the temperature changed and remove them just as easily when needed.   I was also taking more and more cold showers.  The showers and the running helped keep my own secret demons at bay.

    Around the beginning of June, Coach Russell began to get excited for the last competition of the school year.  It was held in mid-June and each school would send a team of athletes to the school that was hosting.  My school had hosted when I was in grade nine but I didn¡¯t take any interest in it then.  This year the hosting school was Collegiate.  In addition to the running events, there were long jump and high jump events.  The Coach for those events was Mr. Bertram for the boys and Miss Frost who performed double duty for the track and field events for the girls.

    Coach Russell approached Ben and I one day after practice and his enthusiasm was rampant.

    ¡°Carter and Dawkins, what would you think of competing in the All-City track competition this year?¡± Coach asked.

    ¡°I thought you were saving us for the fall competitions?¡± Ben enquired.

    ¡°Normally that¡¯s my position but they¡¯re bringing back the long relay and by god, I¡¯d love to put a team together for that event.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the long relay?¡± I asked.  I wasn¡¯t familiar with that race.  I didn¡¯t think it had been run in my time at the school.

    ¡°The long relay is a full mile relay with the passing of batons after each runner has completed a quarter mile.  They haven¡¯t had the relay in years.  I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a school that¡¯s trained in it for a while.  We¡¯d have a good shot at a decent showing if we started training now.¡±  Coach was pacing a little.  Ben and I sensed that this was something the Coach really wanted.

    ¡°Collegiate¡¯s trained in it,¡± Ben offered up.  ¡°I watched some of their training practices last year when I was there.¡±

    ¡°The sneaky buggers,¡± Coach observed.  ¡°I bet they¡¯re the ones who asked to bring back the long relay.  They still have the trophy from the last two times it was held.  The winning school gets to host the trophy until another team wins it.  By god, I¡¯d love to put a team together for that event.¡±  Coach was repeating himself.

    ¡°But we haven¡¯t trained for the long relay,¡± Ben pointed out.

    ¡°What¡¯s to train?  You and Carter are pretty good at the quarter mile and we¡¯ve got the Park brothers.  We just need to practice you four on the baton passing and we¡¯ve got a team,¡± Coach enthused.

    ¡°I¡¯m game,¡± I said.

    ¡°Me, too,¡± Ben chirped.

    ¡°Good,¡± Coach exclaimed and then slapped his hands together.  ¡°John and Marty are our two strongest runners and I was thinking we¡¯d slot you two in the middle.  Marty¡¯s a good starter and John¡¯s a good finisher.  If you two can run your quarters at a decent speed then John can close any gap on the last lap.¡±

    ¡°Why us, Coach?¡± I thought to ask.  ¡°What about some of the other guys?  Shouldn¡¯t they be offered a chance?¡±

    ¡°You and Dawkins have been pace partners for John and Marty.  I¡¯m going to give everyone else a shot in their respective running events but the long relay¡¯s going to need some fresh blood.  The others will be tired from their events.  John and Marty are competitive and will have what it takes for the long relay.  Besides, I¡¯ve already asked them and they agreed that you two would make a good addition to the team for just that one event.¡±

    Ben and I looked at each other.  We both were excited for the opportunity and secretly scared that we might not be able to pull it off.  We didn¡¯t show it though.

    Practice was increased to five days a week.  Tuesdays and Thursdays were devoted strictly to the four of us to train for the long relay.  The running part was not so hard but carrying a baton and having to pass it to the next runner was a bit of a challenge.

    Ben was slotted in the second position and I would take the baton pass from him and run my lap before passing it onto John who ran the final leg.  Both Ben and John were hard to work with initially when passing the baton.  I had to start running a little before the passing of the baton and Ben couldn¡¯t match me in the designated zone for the handoff.  We didn¡¯t have chalk lines on our track but the Coach monitored the area where each lap started and finished and gave us a general idea of how far we could run before the baton had to be fully passed.  Ben and I had trouble syncing our timing and we¡¯d end up tagging each other with the baton beyond the passing area.

    With John, it was completely different.  He was always off like a shot when he saw me closing in and I couldn¡¯t get to him in time to pass the baton.  Sometimes if I was close, the baton slipped out of both of our fingers on the pass and dropped to the ground.  The rules said whoever dropped the baton could pick it up and continue on but by then too much time would have to be made up.

    Coach finally figured out the formula and switched Ben to the starting position, moved John to second, and then had Marty come in as closer after me.  John was more suited to pick up speed and close any gaps left by Ben having run the first lap. John eventually matched Ben¡¯s pace and when he came up on me, John was flying and could catch me easily in the passing zone for the handoff.  Marty proved very capable as a closer and matched me well enough to receive the baton in the correct area.  Marty had been working on his quarter-mile running and he definitely could be competitive enough in the final lap to give us a good finish.

    Our times kept getting better and better and we knew we¡¯d be ready to run the long relay at the All City High School tournament.  Ben and I would not run any other events that day and would save ourselves for the long relay which was always the last event of the day.  Coach limited John and Marty to other events that would be held earlier in the day.  The roster of senior runners would run the other events.  All of us knew that the Coach didn¡¯t care much how our athletes finished in those events as much as he wanted to bring the long relay trophy back to our school.

    Pippa attended only the practices where we trained for the long relay.  Her mother was on an evening shift and expected Pippa home before she left for work.  Pippa was able to explain that she and Sandra were attending the long relay sessions along with other students to cheer on our school team because the event had not been held in a few years.  The remaining days she left the school on time as her mother expected.

    ¡°My mother is getting suspicious,¡± Pippa told me one day after long relay practice.  ¡°She doesn¡¯t know that I¡¯m really here cheering you on.  She thinks I¡¯m with a group cheering for all of the athletes.¡±

    ¡°What difference does it make?¡± I asked.  I was still just a friend, maybe her best friend, but there was nothing romantic between us to arouse her mother¡¯s suspicions.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t want me hanging around with boys, plain and simple.  If she even knew I had a friend who was a boy she¡¯d probably lock me in my room and not let me out.  She¡¯s been super protective ever since what happened last year.¡±

    I understood Pippa¡¯s concern.  Whenever I¡¯d walk her part-way home, we made sure it was nowhere within line of sight of the house.  I wasn¡¯t allowed back into the avocado house since that one visit.  Pippa wouldn¡¯t take any chances.

    ¡°Does she even know about me?¡± I asked.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°No, and I want to keep it that way.  She asks me about what¡¯s happening at school and I talk about you as much as I do everyone else.  I don¡¯t dare tell her you¡¯re on the track team or she¡¯ll suspect you¡¯re the real reason I¡¯m staying late Tuesdays and Thursdays.¡±

    These were the frustrations that kept me running.  I was a big secret that she kept from her mother and there was really nothing to keep secret.  Pippa and I were just friends, I kept telling myself.  Pippa had shown no encouragement that she was interested in me in any other way.

    ¡°Okay, it¡¯s your play,¡± I offered up, ¡°as long as you¡¯re at the All City to cheer me on.¡±  I had become accustomed to her cheers and musical encouragement.  I felt I needed her there when I ran the long relay.

    ¡°Oh, Pink,¡± she exclaimed, ¡°I can¡¯t go there.¡±  She looked away from me because she knew how disappointed I¡¯d be not to have her in the cheering section.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked rather dejectedly.  ¡°It won¡¯t be the same if you¡¯re not there.¡±

    ¡°But Pink, the All City is at Collegiate this year.  I can¡¯t go back there for any reason.  Remember I said how it was for me going there after what happened?  That¡¯s why I¡¯m here at this school with you now.¡±

    ¡°But I thought you said, screw them?  If you go it will show them they don¡¯t mean anything to you.  I need you there Pippa.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that to me, Pink.  I can¡¯t do it.  If my mother even found out I went back to Collegiate she¡¯d be angry.  Don¡¯t make me choose Pink.¡±

    She was correct.  I had no right to make her choose.  I was just her friend.  I had no claims on her.  I was at risk of even losing that friendship if I pushed her.  I couldn¡¯t say anything more.

    ¡°Besides, Pink,¡± she said, trying to lessen the blow she had just handed me, ¡°you don¡¯t need me to help you run.  Look what you¡¯ve accomplished all on your own.  Coach Russell even broke his no-competing rule to let you run the long relay this year.  You told me you were in our friendship for the long haul.  Maybe this relay is part of your long haul.¡± I couldn¡¯t argue with her analogy.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I replied, trying to match her faith in me, ¡°and we¡¯re going to bring home that trophy.¡±  I wasn¡¯t so sure about that.  How could we win if Pippa wasn¡¯t there encouraging me to run or at least being the person I wanted to run to at the finish?

    Pippa insisted on walking home alone that afternoon.  She knew her mother would be home and she didn¡¯t want her mother to see me.  I stayed after practice and continued to run some laps.  Later I would see John Park coming out of the school with Marty after hitting the showers.

    ¡°I told you once, Carter, you have to pace yourself,¡± he yelled at me.  ¡°Save something for the All City!¡±

    John was always quick with his little insights.  Secretly, I was glad that Marty was going to be our closer for the long relay.

    The day of the tournament was sunny and unseasonably hot.  Collegiate was a bigger school and the turnout from Collegiate alone easily outmatched any student spectator delegation sent by the other four schools.

    Their track was also a quarter-mile track but for the All City, chalk lines had been added all around.  I had never worried about straying outside of my lane when running at our track but the sight of those lines was very intimidating.  I would have to pay particular attention to my own lane and try not to foul anyone in the lanes opposite.

    Ben and I had been provided with blue jerseys to don over our t-shirts.  I can¡¯t for the life of me recall what numbers were on our jerseys.  That¡¯s a detail that¡¯s not really important in this recollection.

    Pippa had stayed away from the two practices the previous week.  She knew how disappointed I was that she wasn¡¯t coming to the All-City.  In her mind, it would be easier for me to get used to her not being there.  She told me I had to realize I was running for myself and not because she was watching.  I couldn¡¯t tell her that she was caught up in all of the reasons I ran.  I ran out my frustrations and my concerns.  I imagined I was chasing her when I was running.  My pursuit of her on the track helped me keep my thoughts from my off-track pursuit of her.

    I had hoped she would show up at the tournament but I couldn¡¯t spot her anywhere in the throng of spectators.  There were more cheering sections of students for each school¡¯s athletes than there were participants in the tournament but somehow I thought I would have known if she was there.  She would have made herself known, I was sure of that.

    Ben and I had to wait around all day watching the other events.  The long relay would be the last event of the day.  We watched numerous track and field events and cheered on all of the other athletes from our school.

    Competition was tough that year.  Ben had warned me that Collegiate had a stellar athletic program.  The majority of the running events were won by Collegiate athletes.  Most of our athletes had managed some second and third-place finishes but Collegiate was sweeping the day.  John had managed to come in first in the half-mile run and Marty had come in second in the quarter-mile.  Still, nothing seemed to dim Coach Russell¡¯s enthusiasm.  He cheered every runner and congratulated them on their showing no matter what position they finished.

    Finally, it was time for the long relay.  The crowds had not thinned out throughout the day and in fact, seemed to swell leading into this final event.  The cheering for Collegiate seemed to drown out the groups of students who were there to cheer on the other schools.  It was almost deafening as the five athletes, representing the different schools, took their starting positions.

    I had slapped Ben on the back when he headed out onto the trick.  ¡°You¡¯ve got this,¡± I said without trying to add too much pressure on him.

    ¡°We¡¯ve all got this,¡± he enthused.

    I scanned the crowd one more time before the race began.  Pippa wasn¡¯t there.  I recognized some faces from my school but she wasn¡¯t among them.  I tensed up a little and wondered if I really did have this.

    When the starter gun finally went off, Ben and the other athletes were also off like that shot.  Collegiate wasn¡¯t the only school that was going to give us competition.  I watched the other athletes and Ben was struggling to stay in the middle of the pack.  Collegiate was out in front and widening the gap.  Ben and another runner were virtually tied for third but it would take everything John and the rest of us had to try and close the gap and make a good showing at the finish.

    Coming in at the close of the quarter mile, Ben was still tied for third when approaching for the handoff.  The Collegiate runner¡¯s handoff was clean and was away in front of the rest of the group.  Ben¡¯s handoff was good as well but the runner who had kept pace with him for third was not so lucky.  The handoff was clumsy and the runner who was to take the handoff fumbled it and had to retrieve it.

    I watched John round the first corner of his lap as I made my way to where I would be waiting for him in the handoff zone.  I had to dry my hands a couple of times on my shorts just so I could have a dry hand for the baton.  John was really pouring it on.  The blunder with the other athletes put him in second and the gap for the first position was getting smaller between John and the lead.

    My heart was pounding as I watched over my shoulder at John rounding the last corner.  I placed my arm out behind and prepared for John to hand me the baton.  When he approached me, I started running and felt the baton slip into my hand.  I was clear of the handoff zone cleanly and raced forward with the Collegiate athlete only steps ahead of me.  John had done a tremendous job of zoning in on the lead athlete.  I wasn¡¯t sure I could catch him or keep within striking distance but I was bound and determined to give the best run of my, up to then, short athletic career.

    As I started into the first turn I heard a commotion behind me and someone yell ¡°Get off the track!¡±  I didn¡¯t dare turn to look or I¡¯d have lost my concentration.

    Suddenly there was music.  The rapid strumming of a guitar was quickly followed by Pippa¡¯s voice.  She was there!  I heard the opening lyrics of ¡°Viva Las Vegas¡± and a cheer went up from the crowd.  I could hear her above all the other voices because she was standing in the middle of the green between the tracks.  She was there!  She was singing to me and as I rounded the second turn, I could see her out of the side of my vision without having to turn my head.

    My brain and my legs reacted to the music.  It was the fastest song that I think Elvis had ever recorded.  I instinctively tried to match the rapid rhythm of the music.  I began to close on the Collegiate athlete.   Around the third turn I could hear her singing strongly:

    I''m gonna keep on the run

    I''m gonna have me some fun

    If it costs me my very last dime

    If I wind up broke, oh well

    I''ll always remember that I had a swingin'' time

    I''m gonna give it everything I''ve got

    Lady luck please let the dice stay hot

    Let me shoot a seven with ev''ry shot, ah

    Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas

    Viva Las Vegas, Viva, Viva Las Vegas

    On, ¡®I¡¯m gonna give it everything I¡¯ve got,¡¯ I did just that.  My mind and body were reeling and when she sang the words ¡®Viva Las Vegas¡¯, you could hear the crowd shouting out those words in unison.

    I rounded the final turn and nudged past the Collegiate athlete.  He had to be wondering what was going on with this strange girl in the center singing an Elvis song for all she was worth.

    I saw Marty up ahead and on the ready.  My handoff to him was flawless and then I sprinted into the center myself to meet up with Pippa.  Her guitar was on a strap and she spun it around in back of her and reached out and hugged me.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked while trying to gain my breath.

    ¡°Screw them.  That¡¯s what you said,¡± she replied.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s what you said,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°Well then, screw them.  Screw my mother.  Screw them all!¡±  She grabbed my face and then kissed me long and hard while the crowd whooped and cheered.

    It was amazing.  It was unreal.  I hadn¡¯t crossed out of my lane in the race but after that kiss, I was sure I had crossed over into the boyfriend zone.

    Everything else fell away in that one moment of the kiss.  A whole year of longing after Pippa and struggling and running came down to that one moment.  Nothing else mattered at that moment¡­not even the race.

    Suddenly I remembered the race.  Where was Marty?  Marty was halfway around the track and battling it out with the lead runner.  I drew my attention away from Pippa and reminded her of where we were and what was happening.

    The Collegiate athlete kept pulling ahead but Marty would catch up and be a couple strides ahead before the other athlete would catch him and pass again.  Rounding the last corner it looked like the Collegiate athlete would beat out Marty but coming down the home stretch Marty poured it on and crossed the finish at what looked to me like the exact same time as the other athlete.

    Pandemonium struck.  The crowd erupted and throngs of students stormed the field.  Pippa and I watched from the center.  We couldn¡¯t see Marty or the Collegiate athlete.  I wasn¡¯t even sure if the remaining athletes had had a chance to complete the long relay.  Referees and Coaches were crying out for quiet.

    I felt Pippa¡¯s hand slip into mine as we made our way to the crowd.  It took several minutes of yelling and jostling before calm was restored.

    I spotted Coach Russell arguing with a referee and the Coach of the Collegiate team.  From what I could hear, both were arguing that their respective athlete had crossed the finish line first.  The referee kept pointing at his stopwatch and eventually called over another referee.  The second referee displayed his watch and things began to quiet down as they compared their watches.

    Both stop-watches displayed the exact same time.  There had been numerous referees timing all of the athletes in the long relay.  It wasn¡¯t just about who crossed first but about the total time each team had made in the race.  Marty and the Collegiate athlete had crossed the finish dead even as far as anyone could tell.  The Collegiate athlete and his coach argued that he had crossed first but the same argument had been taken up by Marty and Coach Russell.  In the end, all of the times for our runners and the Collegiate runners were compared and they were identical from both referees.  We had tied with Collegiate as the winners of the long relay.

    Of course, the times and the finishes weren¡¯t the only contention.  The Collegiate Coach had brought up the distraction caused by Pippa running across the track and playing from the infield.  The times were compared again and no one could say that any team was adversely affected by Pippa¡¯s presence.  The times for my lap showed I had excelled while she was singing but so did the times of the other runners who ran that lap.  Nothing came of it and eventually Coach Russell and the Collegiate coach agreed to share the trophy.  Placards for both teams would be added and the trophy would be housed six months at one school and six months at the other.  Coach Russell was able to convince the other coach to let us host it until the end of the year.  His argument lay that our school had never won the long relay before and it would be nice to let us have it because Collegiate had had the trophy on display for the last number of years.

    As all of this was unfolding, I hadn¡¯t noticed that Pippa¡¯s hand was no longer in mine.  When all of the arguments were done and the agreement about the trophy had been made, I looked to find her but she was gone.

    ¡°Hey, where¡¯s your girlfriend?¡± Ben asked me as he saw me scanning the crowds for any sign of Pippa.

    ¡°She¡¯s not my girlfriend,¡± I pointed out but at that moment I didn¡¯t really know the truth of things.

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell me that after the stunt she pulled and that long kiss,¡± he pointed out.

    He was right.  Again, it came back to me how unreal it all had been.  Pippa serenading me while I ran was one thing but Ben was right that there was also that kiss.  There was also that long kiss.

    ¡°Ben,¡± I asked, ¡°did you ever finish a race and were so sure how you finished only to start thinking you might still be running in a longer event?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he asked with mounting confusion.

    ¡°Skip it.  You were right though,¡± I responded.

    ¡°About what?¡± he asked.

    ¡°About the race,¡± I said.  ¡°You said we¡¯ve all got this.  And we did!¡±

    Ben and I clapped arms around each other and went off to hug John and Marty and Coach.

    ¡°See Carter,¡± John said to me when he saw me coming.  ¡°Always save something for the finish.  Marty knew.  Marty knew.¡±

    I wanted to point out that my closing the gap during my lap had helped us just as well to win the race.  I thought I had better keep quiet about it though because it might lead to a discussion about Pippa and there had already been enough accusations levelled against her.

    I didn¡¯t see Pippa for the rest of that day.  It was past the end of the school day by the time we got back and I certainly didn¡¯t feel like running by her house.

    The next day she was at my locker first thing as if nothing had happened.  She congratulated me again about the race and spoke about the assembly later that morning where the entire track and field team would be congratulated in front of everyone.  The trophy would be hoisted for the first time by Coach Russell and I was sure he had a well-prepared speech.

    Pippa was droning on about something when I slammed my locker door.  ¡°What the hell, Pippa?¡± I asked.  ¡°I don¡¯t care about the assembly.  What happened yesterday?  Where did you go?  I looked for you but you were gone.¡±  I carefully avoided mentioning the kiss.

    ¡°I had to get home, Pink.  It was bad enough that I defied my mother about going to Collegiate yesterday so I wasn¡¯t going to risk not getting back before she had to leave for work.¡±  I noticed she avoided talking about the kiss as well.

    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± was all I could think to say.  How do you ask someone why they kissed you when it was clear they didn¡¯t want to talk about it?

    ¡°And another thing, Pink,¡± she began again, ¡°that kiss was for everyone watching.  It was a screw them all kiss.  I wanted to show everyone I had moved on.  This kiss is for you.¡±  She grabbed my face again and this time the kiss felt like it lasted as long as the lap I had run in the long relay.

 8. Call Me Steve

    The tailing end of my school year in 1978 reminds me of that line I quoted to Pippa once from Robert Browning from the poem that bore her name:  ¡®God''s in his heaven¡ª All''s right with the world¡¯.  At least it should have been.

    I had started off that school year smack dab in the middle with no aspirations.  I was quite content in the middle.  Of course, seeing Pippa that very first day and falling in love with her the first time I saw her had set me on a different path.

    In running, you stay in your lane.  That¡¯s one of the first things you learn.  You set your eyes forward and you start running.  If you¡¯re lucky you finish in the middle of the pack or at worst you lose some ground and you finish somewhere in the bottom.  The bottom¡¯s not so bad, all things considered, because when you¡¯re at the bottom the only direction you have before you is up.

    I was at the top.  That¡¯s a precarious position.  It felt like I had finished the long haul I had committed myself to.  I had the girl and I had been part of the team that won the long relay; or at least tied for it.  I was at the top.  Once you reach the top, however, you have no place to go but down.  And sometimes it¡¯s not a gentle fall but rather a crashing with debris everywhere.

    I had finished grade eleven on that very top note.  The assembly to highlight the track and field athletes and to display the hard-won long relay trophy had been amazing.  One by one, the track and field athletes had been called forward and the cheering increased with each person who jogged to the stage.  I felt sorry for the other athletes when Coach Russell announced John, Marty, Ben and I and then elevated the trophy above our heads.  The cheering for us had been substantially more than for any other student who had competed in the All City tournament.  I was sure I could hear a few students chanting ¡°Pink, Pink, Pink.¡±

    My newfound celebrity status had been cemented not only by my competing in the relay but by Pippa¡¯s presence in the infield and her kissing me in front of the throng.  Standing before everyone in that assembly, I so wanted to beckon to Pippa to come up and claim her place in the presentation.  With her playing of ¡®Viva, Las Vegas¡¯, I had managed to call on those reserves that John had once cautioned me to hold back.  It wasn¡¯t just her singing or the guitar playing but the fact she risked everything to be there for me.  She really had sent out a screw them message to anyone from Collegiate who was there and remembered her.

    Of course, she had told me that part of the message had also been meant for her mother.  She had yelled, ¡°screw my mother.¡±  I knew what that meant.  She was longing to break out from under her mother¡¯s control.  Pippa had felt her mother had been over-protective and Pippa knew the curfew of returning home from school on time was unnecessary.  Still, nothing changed.

    Pippa had left the tournament early so she could avoid any conflict with her mother.  This continued to apply to every school day and meant any time with me were stolen moments.  I wasn¡¯t allowed to see her any earlier than the start of school and certainly not after.  Now that practice for the long relay was finished for that year, Pippa had no excuse to stay and cheer her school team.  Weekends were also out and I didn¡¯t dare sneak a rendezvous when her mother was at work.

    We¡¯d see each other in classes we shared but the rest of the time was a quick hug or a kiss if we passed each other in the hall.  At lunch, there were too many people around and we both felt we were being watched since the kiss at the tournament.  Some students had been there to witness it while others helped fuel the rumour mill.  Even though practices were finished, I still ran the track every day after school and sometimes on weekends.  I still had a lot of frustrations to run off.

    Pippa didn¡¯t dare tell her mother about us.  It was clear her mother couldn¡¯t control Roger now that he wasn¡¯t living under her roof but she was determined to protect Pippa.  The issue with Pippa¡¯s father was still unresolved for mother and daughter.  I tried to ask Pippa about it once after school to see if there was any news on that front.

    ¡°Pink, sometimes it¡¯s like it never happened,¡± she told me.  ¡°My mother doesn¡¯t talk about it.  Roger doesn¡¯t talk about it.  Frankly, I¡¯m good with the way things are.  No movement is at least no movement in a wrong direction.  I have to try and keep mom happy.¡±

    ¡°And what about you being happy?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I am happy, Pink.  I¡¯m happy I¡¯m with you.¡±  She kissed me and then she headed off home.  Damn that curfew!

    I started running by the avocado house on weekends sometimes.  It was warmer now and I had hoped to see Pippa outside as I ran past.  I was sure her mother wouldn¡¯t limit her movement to indoors only.

    I never saw Pippa when I ran by.  Sometimes there was a car there and sometimes there wasn¡¯t.  I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what I would do if I did see Pippa in her yard.  If she had been outside and the car was there then I would have kept on running.  I probably wouldn¡¯t even have waved.  I wasn¡¯t sure what I would have done if she was outside and there was no car present.  Unfortunately, I never got a chance to deal with that opportunity.

    The last two weeks of school were busy enough with the lead-up to exams.  Both Pippa and I did well on the exams and after that, it was summer vacation.  I hadn¡¯t thought about a summer job before that year.  In previous summers there were a few lawns I could cut regularly to keep me in pocket money.  Rod had a job the previous summer working an evening shift at a local Texaco gas station from four to eleven.  The summer of ¡¯78 he managed to snag a day shift and was able to recommend me for his old evening slot.  It wasn¡¯t very hard.  I sat in a kiosk and because it was all self-serve, I pushed a button to activate a gas pump and accepted payment.  Near the end of my shift, I had to clean the two bathrooms and sweep around the pump islands.

    I should probably put something in here about Rod around that time.  Rod and I had been civil with each other since our blow-up after the slapping incident.  I had mounted some hatred toward Rod when he had told me about the rumour regarding Pippa and her brother.  I didn¡¯t really feel the need to forgive him when I found out the truth from Pippa.  My civility towards him grew and we became brothers again but I held back from sharing anything with him about my relationship with Pippa or when I felt I had moved from being best friend to boyfriend.

    Rod didn¡¯t ride me about my running or when I¡¯d joined the track team.  He didn¡¯t run the Harrier that year himself, having given up after the first couple of years.  He had been like everyone else who had seen it just as an opportunity to get out of class.  His only comment to me once was ¡°if you have to run, win something for it.¡±  He hadn¡¯t been there the day of the All City but congratulated me after our tie in the long relay.

    ¡°Thanks for bringing it back to the school,¡± was all he had to say.  I secretly hoped he was proud of me but we were brothers and pride and admiration weren¡¯t things shared openly.  I think his recommendation for me at the gas station was as close to any real acceptance he was prepared to show me.

    There was another perk to working at the Texaco.  Pippa had a summer job right across the road.  It was the busy main thoroughfare through town and it sometimes had the nickname of ¡®gasoline alley¡¯ or ¡®burger alley¡¯ because there were an equal number of both on that street.

    Pippa had convinced her mother to let her have a summer job.  Her mother had only agreed when she learned that Pippa¡¯s cousin Sandra was also going to work at the same establishment.  It was one of those burger joint chains common to every city.  I didn¡¯t care much for their grilled burgers but their fries were good.  Occasionally I would stop in before my shift and get an order of fries or a milkshake and would hang around and watch Pippa work the front cash.  She was very professional and never acknowledged me as anyone other than a regular customer but the other employees had a sense that this regular customer, who often came in around the same time and sat where he could watch the girls at the front cash, meant more to Pippa than she let on.

    The curfew rules for Pippa were still just as strict when she worked.  Her mother was informed by Pippa of her shifts and knew how long it would take for Pippa to get home.  Her mother expected her around the same time every day or if her mother was working she would phone Pippa and make sure she was in the house.  There was only a window of fifteen minutes before Pippa knew her mother would start out looking for her or at least call in the national guard.

    Luckily Pippa rode her bike to work every day.  This would allow Pippa more time to dally which she could then make up for if she rode faster or took a shortcut.  One of Pippa¡¯s favourite shortcuts was of course going through the Texaco parking lot and out the back.  I¡¯m not sure how much time this saved her but she used this time to make quick stops at the station.  Sometimes she would stop at the air pump and feign putting air in her tires and other times she would ask for the bathroom key.  If she was at the air pump, if I wasn¡¯t busy with a customer, it was my cue to meet her at the back of the station.  We stole kisses or hugged silently.  If she was returning the bathroom key she¡¯d talk to me through the small kiosk window and talk about how hard it was carrying on a limited relationship that way.

    Weekends were no different.  I wasn¡¯t allowed to see Pippa.  Sometimes she¡¯d have a Saturday or Sunday shift but I only worked through the week.  I¡¯d wander into her work sometimes and get something to eat on those days but it wasn¡¯t often.  I couldn¡¯t talk with her when she was working and staring at her from across the restaurant had no other perks than seeing her.

    That summer was the first year that my boss decided to run the gas station twenty-four hours a day.  Rod had told me how the previous year he was responsible for closing up at eleven and doing nightly deposits into a safe in the floor.  The year I started, they put on an overnight shift and duties were shared between the owner¡¯s son during the week and his buddy on weekends.  I heard that the weekend overnight worker wasn¡¯t so bad but the same could not be said for the boss¡¯s son.

    Jake, the boss¡¯s son, was lazy.  He was required to do a general sweep around the kiosk and the pumps every night but he frequently left it undone.  He was also late almost every night.  I¡¯d be waiting for him to relieve me at eleven and he¡¯d roll in ten or fifteen minutes late.  He wasn¡¯t even smart enough to offer up an apology or an excuse.  That only lasted two weeks before things changed again.

    I remember one evening near the close of shift that the boss came in and told me they were closing at eleven that night.  I didn¡¯t want to pry but he said his son was no longer available to work evening shifts but I was sure that closer to the truth was his son was no longer a choice candidate by the employer to continue as an employee.  The short of it was he was out and they started casting around for someone else.  The weekend overnight guy, Dave, agreed to pick up a couple of shifts and that left three shifts during the week to be filled.  I recommended Ben.

    Ben and I had stayed close and continued to have the occasional run together.  We hadn¡¯t really associated much outside of the running or the track practices.  He was a year behind and most of my non-running time at the end of the school year had been taken up with Pippa.  I had continued my weekend runs at the track until the end of the term but had also supplemented running past the avocado house.  After summer vacation had started there was one Saturday when I ran into Ben at the track.

    ¡°How¡¯s the girlfriend?¡± he asked me after we ran a couple of laps.  The last time he had referred to Pippa as my girlfriend had been after we had completed the long relay at the All City.  I had denied it then but I still recall Ben had pointed out the kiss as if to challenge me that Pippa and I weren¡¯t romantically involved.

    ¡°It¡¯s still complicated,¡± I replied.  That had become my standard answer.  I remember telling him that when Pippa and I were just friends.  Our relationship still being complicated didn¡¯t seem like much of a change to me.

    ¡°You said that before,¡± Ben was quick to point out.  ¡°I recall you saying once you were friends.  Now you¡¯re in a relationship.  What¡¯s so complicated about that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± was all I thought to offer.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got time.  I don¡¯t have any place to be.¡±  I could see that Ben wasn¡¯t going to let it go this time.  I wasn¡¯t sure why he was so interested.  Maybe it was common conversation or maybe he really wanted to know.  I thought I would take a chance and tell him.

    I found myself opening up to Ben.  I told him the story behind my pursuit of Pippa and how that had led to my running.  I left out the parts that Pippa had disclosed to me at the avocado house.  Those weren¡¯t mine to tell.  I didn¡¯t mention Pippa¡¯s family dynamics either.  I only added the part about how her mother¡¯s current protectiveness was hampering any romance with Pippa.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°What do you think¡¯s behind all that?¡± Ben asked after I confessed my story to him.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t a clue,¡± I lied.  ¡°I can¡¯t really talk to Pippa about it.  She shuts the conversation down when it comes to her mother.¡±

    I told Ben about working at the Texaco and my limited trysts with Pippa.  This sparked a reminder that the boss was looking for another overnight person.

    ¡°Say, are you in the market for a part-time job?¡± I asked.  I explained about the issue with the boss¡¯s son and how the vacancy came open and what would be required of him.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Ben replied.  ¡°I haven¡¯t anything better to do.¡±

    ¡°You mean besides running with me and listening to my lonely heart complaints?¡±  We both had a good laugh about that.

    I put in a good word with the boss on Ben and even offered to help train him.  Soon Ben was spending a couple of hours with me at the end of one shift.  Dave was working that night and Ben stayed on another hour with him learning the overnight responsibilities.

    After Ben started on his own, if I was working the shift before him, I started hanging around at the Texaco and talking for an hour with him before heading home.  Nothing had changed between Pippa and I and it was good to have someone else to talk to about my problem.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been giving that some thought,¡± Ben offered one night.  ¡°The key is not getting in with the daughter but getting in with the mother.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never even met her,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°You need to find a way on the inside.  You¡¯ve got to let the mother get to know you.  Maybe then she¡¯ll loosen up.¡±  Ben¡¯s advice was sound enough but I wasn¡¯t sure how to pull it off.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Pippa would go for it,¡± I stated.  ¡°I told you before, she shuts down any conversation about her mother.¡±

    ¡°Never hurts to ask,¡± Ben replied.

    I thought about his advice for a couple of days before I decided to tackle the issue with Pippa.

    ¡°No, Pink, it won¡¯t work,¡± Pippa stated adamantly after I had raised it with her again.

    There hadn¡¯t been opportunities for long discussions and this conversation had been broached through the small kiosk window when she returned the bathroom key.  My hand had lingered on hers and when she complained again about how difficult these small moments had been on her, I thought I should take Ben¡¯s advice and raise the subject directly.

    ¡°It¡¯s difficult on me too, Pippa,¡± I began.  ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be your boyfriend and I only get to see you for a moment here or watching you behind the counter where you work.  Just tell your mother about us.¡±

    This is where Pippa came in with the ¡°No, Pink, it won¡¯t work.¡±  ¡°You don¡¯t know my mother like I do,¡± she continued.

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem,¡± I responded.  ¡°I don¡¯t know your mother and unless she gets a chance to know me then things aren¡¯t going to change for us.¡±  I would have thought the obvious would be a good selling argument.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not argue Pink.¡±  Pippa pulled her hand back.  ¡°I¡¯ve got to go Pink.  I¡¯ve stayed too long as it is.¡±  With that, she hurried off to her bicycle and I watched her pedal away at a mad pace.  Nothing had been accomplished and I wasn¡¯t sure what the point would be of raising it again.

    Things went on pretty much the same for the next couple of weeks.  July was rolling along into August and my relationship was still waiting at the chalk line for the starter¡¯s pistol.  Pippa¡¯s eighteenth birthday was on the twelfth of August and I had been looking forward to spending some time with her on her special day.  At the rate things were proceeding I¡¯d be lucky if I could wish her the best through a small rectangular window.

    I had been working on something special for her birthday.  I had picked out the perfect gift.  I remembered her mentioning to me about the Frank Sinatra television special where he welcomed Elvis home from the army.  There was a used record store in the city back then and I had thought maybe the owner might know if there was a soundtrack or something from the special.  I had been in the store a few times and he had a really eclectic selection of vinyl records.  He knew about the Sinatra special and told me there had been a record called ¡°TV Guide Presents Elvis¡± that had been issued in Canada in 1971.  He didn¡¯t have a copy but had connections with other stores in Toronto and Ottawa and said to leave my phone number and he¡¯d get back to me.

    It was getting near the end of July before I heard back from the proprietor of the record store that he had managed to find a copy of the vinyl.  It cost me forty dollars but I was glad to have it.  Not only did it feature some tracks from the Sinatra special but also selections from other television shows on which Elvis had appeared over the years.  I had the record so all I needed was the opportunity to give it to Pippa on her birthday.

    July approached August and still Pippa and I were in what seemed like a non-starting relationship.  I didn¡¯t dare approach the talk of her mother again.  I knew when no meant no with Pippa and I didn¡¯t want to see the spectre of Carlotta rear her head because I had pressed Pippa too hard.

    Ben and I continued to talk at the Texaco but we had to curb our running together.  Night shifts at the station didn¡¯t allow him the energy for morning runs and on his days off he was trying to regulate or catch up on his sleep.

    I continued to run the track alone and mix it up with running by the avocado house.  If Pippa saw me running past when I thought she might be inside, she never mentioned it to me.  I was beginning to see the avocado house as a fortress where my true love was being held captive away from the ogre me.

    Somewhere around the end of July, I began getting glimpses of Pippa¡¯s mother.  The first time she was getting into her car and I only saw her from the side.  If she noticed me running past, she made no acknowledgement.  Another time she was working in the flower beds and I only caught sight of her from behind.  Neither time allowed me the chance to form an opinion.

    The next time I saw her mother was a meeting I cannot forget.  I wish I could but if I¡¯m being truthful in retelling this story then it¡¯s important to note the time I started to screw everything up.

    There was no rhyme or reason to the times I ran past the avocado house.  Sometimes I ran in the early afternoon on the days I worked an evening shift.  Other times were weekends when I hoped to get a glimpse of Pippa.  Sometimes I also ran when I knew Pippa was working.  I hadn¡¯t expected anything of those times but I could curse the avocado house or Pippa¡¯s mother under my breath as I passed.

    On this particular occasion, I was running out my frustrations again and it would be a chance to vent to nobody in particular as I knew that Pippa would be working.  I hadn¡¯t expected to see her mother and I had thought I knew best to keep on running by.  I should have kept my own advice and kept on going but I didn¡¯t.  Again, this is where I started to screw everything up.

    As I approached the avocado house, I noticed Pippa¡¯s mother struggling to drag a recliner down the driveway.  I knew right away it was her mother because this was a full front-on view and I had almost thought it was Pippa.  She had the same facial features, albeit a little older, and the same long blonde hair.  The resemblance was amazing.  That¡¯s probably why I threw all caution to the wind and stopped in front of the house.

    ¡°Do you need help with that ma¡¯am?¡± I found myself asking.  It was an innocent inquiry.  It was a friendly gesture and I had no intention to announce myself and say that I was her daughter¡¯s boyfriend and to openly ask for her blessing.

    ¡°Why thank you, that¡¯s so kind,¡± she responded.  Her eyes were the same deep blue as Pippa¡¯s.  I found myself wondering if this would be how Pippa would look when she got older.

    I grabbed one end of the chair and helped carry it out to the road.  I recognized it immediately as the recliner that had been in the living room.

    ¡°It¡¯s still got some life in it, maybe someone will stop and pick it up,¡± she said.  ¡°I¡¯ve had temporary furniture for almost a year now and it was time for an upgrade.¡±

    It was a solidly built chair and she was right, it still had some life in it.

    ¡°Maybe I could stop and rest in it if it¡¯s still here the next time I run by,¡± I joked.  I was a little nervous and trying to watch what I was saying.  I certainly didn¡¯t want to give anything away.

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± she responded.  ¡°You run by here a lot.  You might as well get some comfort out of it while it¡¯s still here.  I¡¯ve noticed you before.  Are you training for something?¡±

    I knew I should have made some excuse and quickly retreated.  She had noticed me running by.  I wondered what that meant.  Did she know who I was?  Did she suspect that there was something between her daughter and I?

    ¡°Something like that,¡± I lied.  ¡°This is the course our school runs each year in preparation for tryouts for the track team.  I¡¯m trying to improve my time.¡±  Parts of that were true and I hoped it was enough to satisfy her curiosity.

    ¡°Oh, you go to the school up the road?  That¡¯s a coincidence, so does my daughter.  Her name¡¯s Pippa Bailey, do you know her?¡±

    Talk about a loaded question!  It seemed innocent enough but how did I answer it without betraying anything?  Luckily running had trained me to be quick on my feet and quicker with my thoughts and reactions.

    ¡°I think so,¡± I responded.  ¡°We¡¯ve been in some classes together.  Pretty.  I guess she takes after you.¡±  I thought a charming compliment would disarm her.

    ¡°Why thank you, uh, sorry, I didn¡¯t catch your name?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Steve, Steve Wilson.¡±  It was suddenly there on my lips.  I don¡¯t know why Steve but the Wilson was the manufacturer printed on the tread of my shoes.  I should have told her the truth.  I should have said I was Jeff Carter.  It would have been a proper introduction I could have built on.  She didn¡¯t know Jeff Carter yet but in my mind, she also didn¡¯t know Steve Wilson and Steve Wilson wasn¡¯t dating her daughter.  I couldn¡¯t take the chance she had already suspected that Pippa¡¯s pal Jeff Carter was also her boyfriend.

    ¡°Well, nice to meet you, Steve Wilson,¡± she replied without any suspicion.  ¡°Can I repay your kindness with a cold drink?¡±

    ¡°Pepsi?¡± I asked.  I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as I¡¯d said it.  How could I possibly know she had Pepsi?  It was a slip-up I couldn¡¯t afford to make.

    ¡°Say, you must be a mind reader.  I do have Pepsi.  It¡¯s also my daughter¡¯s favourite.  Of course, I also stock Coke for my son when he¡¯s around.  Wouldn¡¯t you know it but the day I have to move furniture he¡¯s off on that damn motorcycle and my daughter¡¯s working.¡±  She hadn¡¯t noticed my slip.  I had to be more careful.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay, Mrs. Bailey.  You don¡¯t really have to bother.¡±  There was another slip.  How could I possibly know her last name was Bailey just because it was her daughter¡¯s surname?  Didn¡¯t some children have different last names than their parent?  She could have been a step-parent for all I knew.  Of course, I knew the truth but I was worried that with every word I spoke I was leaving clues to the truth of things.

    ¡°No trouble, come on in,¡± she said.  I felt like a fly entering the spider¡¯s web.

    She led me into the avocado house and on through to the kitchen and the waiting Pepsi.  I noticed that the old recliner had been replaced with something more modern.  Nothing else seemed to have changed.  There still weren¡¯t any noticeable family photos.

    ¡°I wish my daughter was home,¡± she began after I had taken the offered soda, ¡°I could introduce you.  But then you said you already know her.¡±  Oh no, the web was closing in.

    ¡°Only in passing,¡± I lied.  ¡°Like I said, we only had a couple of classes together.  Besides, I thought she was dating someone on the track team?¡±  That right there, that was the completely wrong thing to say and the moment I realized I had screwed up big time.  I thought the deflection away from Steve Wilson was necessary because I thought she was beginning to suspect I was more than I was letting on.

    ¡°Do tell.  Do you know who he is?¡±  She was digging for more information now.

    ¡°No, not really,¡± I continued with my lies.  ¡°I¡¯m not on the track team yet.  I have to improve my time.  It might be a couple of guys that I¡¯ve heard about.¡±  I had to get out of there.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay Steve, she thinks I don¡¯t know but I have other sources.¡±  She stopped for a minute and looked me over.  I think I had avoided detection.  ¡°What am I going on about?¡± she began again.  ¡°You do me a good deed and here I am grilling you for information.  I¡¯m worried she¡¯s keeping secrets from me.  It feels like Pippa and this athlete are sneaking around behind my back.  Why can¡¯t she be involved with an honest nice young man like you?¡±

    I wanted to blush but I was sure all of the colour had already escaped from my face.  She had been laying her web of interrogation and I had responded with a web of lies.

    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am,¡± I replied while trying to appear as calm and disinterested as I could.  ¡°I think I should get going now.  I¡¯m already off my pace.  I need to restart my time.  Thanks for the Pepsi.¡±

    ¡°It was my pleasure, Steve.  Maybe I¡¯ll see you again sometime.¡±  She seemed to have moved on past her inquisition.  I think I had managed to avoid revealing any truths.

    I ran out of there as quickly as I could.  I was still staggering in my mind from the encounter.  I knew I shouldn¡¯t have lied.  I shouldn¡¯t have made up Steve Wilson but Steve Wilson had served me well.  I hoped I wouldn¡¯t need him again.

    I had to work that evening.  I couldn¡¯t bring myself to go to the restaurant beforehand and secretly watch my girlfriend.  I was sure my face would relay the turmoil inside me.

    Pippa was right on schedule after her shift and this time she was checking the air in her tires.  I knew this was my cue to meet her out back but I was reluctant.  I could just as easily have made myself look busy in the kiosk but in the end, I knew this would look like avoidance.

    ¡°Hey, you didn¡¯t stop by today,¡± Pippa said disappointedly.

    ¡°Yeah, I was out running and I lost track of time.¡±  The truth sounded plausible if not skimpy on details.

    ¡°I missed you today, I thought something had happened.¡±

    ¡°Nope, just another ordinary Pink day,¡± I tried to reassure her.

    ¡°Are you sure everything¡¯s okay?  Is there something you¡¯re not telling me?¡±  There was my opening.  I could have and should have told her the truth.

    ¡°Nothing special, just living the dream¡± I replied.  I didn¡¯t think I was fooling her.  How could you tell your girlfriend that you just met her mother and spent time with her as someone else?

    ¡°I know what it is and you¡¯ve been so patient Pink.  Give me a little more time.  I¡¯ll start working on my mother.  She¡¯ll come around eventually.¡±

    Who was she kidding?  Who was I kidding?  Of course, her mother would come around but I was afraid it was going to be to Steve Wilson and Jeff Carter would be left watching the race.  My thinking was starting to become muddled.  I had to remember that Steve Wilson was made up or they were both me.  I had to tell Pippa the truth.

    ¡°Listen, Pippa, I¡­,¡± I started to say before she interrupted me.

    ¡°Oh Pink, I have to go.  I¡¯m sure my mother¡¯s already suspicious.  If I¡¯m not home on time she¡¯ll never let me hear the end of it.¡±  Pippa was already mounting her bicycle before I could say anything else.  She leaned in for a kiss with the bike between us.  I was sure that when she got home and her mother talked to her that the bicycle would be replaced by a chasm between us of my own making.

 9. Confessions at Midnight

    After my shift ended, I stayed on to talk to Ben.  I needed to lay out my incredible blunder to someone but I was also looking to share the blame.  After all, hadn¡¯t it been his advice to try to get in with the mother?

    ¡°Man, I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s ingenious or incredibly stupid,¡± Ben said to me after my plight was told.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaning towards the stupid description myself,¡± I replied.  ¡°First, I was a guy without a girlfriend and now I¡¯m two guys pursuing the same girl.¡±

    ¡°You mean one guy,¡± Ben pointed out.  ¡°One guy pursuing but maybe also one guy that her mother wants to set up with her daughter.  I don¡¯t know whether to envy you or hit you over the head.¡±

    As if to answer, I leaned forward and offered myself up for the blow.

    ¡°I know one thing for sure, Steve Wilson isn¡¯t going to show his face around there again,¡± I said.  It was the only clear path forward for me.

    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± Ben chided.  ¡°Steve Wilson¡¯s your in with her mother.  Don¡¯t throw that away.¡±

    ¡°But Steve Wilson¡¯s not real!¡± I exclaimed.  ¡°I can¡¯t keep on being Steve Wilson with her mother and Jeff Carter with Pippa.  I¡¯m going to get found out!¡±

    ¡°Not if you don¡¯t get caught,¡± Ben offered up.  ¡°Her mother¡¯s looking for information on Pippa and you¡¯re looking to resolve a stalemate between Pippa and her mother.  Steve Wilson is the guy that can do that for you.¡±

    ¡°But Steve Wilson¡¯s not real!¡± I exclaimed again.

    ¡°I know that and you know that but her mother doesn¡¯t know that.  Steve Wilson is someone her mother has already met and accepted.  Now you go to work on Pippa and let her know about Steve Wilson.  If Pippa¡¯s in on it then you are Steve Wilson whenever you¡¯re around her Mother.¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure if I was going crazy but what Ben was saying was sounding logical to me.

    ¡°Eventually the truth is going to come out,¡± I said.

    ¡°Eventually is the future, Jeff.  I say you take what you can whether that¡¯s as Steve Wilson or as Jeff Carter.  Don¡¯t worry about the future until you have to.¡±

    Admittedly Ben was making a great deal of sense.  Why worry about the future when my present could be spent with Pippa?

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said.

    After I left Ben at the Texaco, I decided to do a nighttime run by the avocado house in order to mull over Ben¡¯s advice.  It was after midnight when I ran past and there were no lights on in the house.  I noticed that the recliner was gone as well.  Hopefully, it had found a good home.  Frankly, I didn¡¯t really give a damn about the recliner.  If it hadn¡¯t been for the recliner, I would not have stopped to lend assistance to Pippa¡¯s mother.  Her mother¡¯s vehicle was in the car-port so that eliminated any temptation.  If the car hadn¡¯t been there I might have decided to go around to Pippa¡¯s bedroom window and rap on it until she awakened.  I¡¯m not sure what I would have said to her but in my frame of mind, I might just have been stupid enough to tell her the truth.

    I should have killed off Steve Wilson when I had the chance.  In fact, I should never have given birth to him.  I had been desperate and worried and I panicked.  Now, I was stuck with him.  After my midnight run, I decided to commit myself to Ben¡¯s plan if it wasn¡¯t already too late.  If Pippa could look past my indiscretion and play along with me as Steve Wilson then we could be together.  Getting Pippa to that point was only one of my concerns.  What if Pippa¡¯s mother had already confronted her daughter and grilled her about dating someone on the track team?  Information she had garnered from none other than Steve Wilson.

    Ben had said to focus on the now and let the future sort itself out.  I should have realized that was a mistake.  The future is unpredictable unless you do something now to direct the outcome.  I was trying a bit to focus on that aspect.  I was worried about what was coming toward me and was trying to figure out how to deflect it away from me or at least find a way to get out of its path.

    Steve Wilson was the source of all my problems but he also had to be the key to any solution.  I had created this character out of desperation and he existed now in the real world as far as Pippa¡¯s mother was concerned.  Steve Wilson had no bearing when it came to my relationship with Pippa.  I was Jeff Carter or Pink and until my recent stupidity, I had always been a nice honest guy.  I knew Pippa saw me that way but her mother only saw me that way as Steve Wilson.

    When I left Pippa¡¯s house after my midnight run I stopped at the school track.  There was a moon out by then so I could see the track quite well.  I had been accustomed to carrying a backpack with my running shorts and new sneakers in case I decided to do some running after work.  Usually, I had only stuck to running home but I¡¯d deviated by running past the avocado house in the dark then was running the track by moonlight.

    My laps that night were almost purposeless.  My thoughts were full of Pippa and her mother and that idiot Steve Wilson.  I hated him and I channelled that hate into my running that night.  I imagined running so fast that I left all of my problems behind me.  I imagined not Pippa passing me but Steve Wilson and I ran harder trying to catch him and leave him in my wake.  It was stupid but Steve Wilson kept pace with me and there was no shaking him.

    I said my laps served no purpose but they did manage to exhaust me.  I was bone tired when I got home and I fell into bed without changing out of my clothes.  My dreams that night were fitful but I remember racing against an identical me in the guise of Steve Wilson in Collegiate colours.  We were racing against each other in the long relay and he was keeping pace with me.  When it came time for the baton handoff, I was passing to another me.  It was Jeff Carter or Pink because he was dressed exactly like me.  We tried to make the connection but we faltered and dropped the baton.  Steve Wilson passed to himself and kept on racing.

    I woke up drenched in sweat as if I had really competed in a track event.  I didn¡¯t know what the dream meant but I suspected it wasn¡¯t anything good.  My interpretation was that we were running toward the future and Steve Wilson was the only one to make the transition in that race.

    Before I left the Texaco, the previous night, I had arranged for an afternoon run with Ben.  He didn¡¯t have to work the next day and he could catch up on his sleep later.  I needed a running partner because I was planning to run the Harrier route again past Pippa¡¯s house.  I knew that Pippa would be working but I wanted to show myself running down her street in case her mother was home.  My thought was that by running past the avocado house, I wasn¡¯t running away from any conflict.  As much as I wanted to get rid of Steve Wilson I realized if Steve Wilson suddenly changed his pattern and disappeared then her mother would have become suspicious of Steve Wilson.  My fear then would be that she would begin a deeper investigation into my alter ego and everything would come to a head too soon.  With Ben in tow, if we did come across Pippa¡¯s mother then she would be less likely to be suspect of Steve Wilson as anything other than a runner in training.  I knew Ben would back me up.

    I needn¡¯t have worried.  Her mother was not home when we ran past.  I pointed out the avocado house to Ben and mentioned I¡¯d only been invited in once by Pippa and once by her mother.  I wasn¡¯t building up a very good visitor record.  We continued on our run but it began to rain so we both hustled on our way.  Ben went his way and I hurried off home because I still had to work that evening.

    By the time I arrived at work, it was raining quite considerably.  I had a pattern of not stopping at Pippa¡¯s place of work when it was raining because I didn¡¯t want to get drenched running back across the street to the Texaco.  On those days, Pippa hurried home as well to avoid the rain and would skip meeting up with me.

    I was well-established in the kiosk when it came time for Pippa to leave from work.  I had been hoping to catch a glimpse of her even if she was not stopping around.  A few minutes had gone by after her expected time but I didn¡¯t see her.  It was shortly after that when a very familiar automobile pulled into the Texaco to fuel up.  I recognized it as Pippa¡¯s mother¡¯s car and when she got out to pump the gas, I recognized her immediately.  I tried to avoid looking directly at her but I was surprised when I looked past her and saw Pippa in the front passenger seat.  Her bicycle was sticking out of the trunk with the hatch secured by a rope.  Obviously, she was getting a ride home due to the rain or maybe her mother was even more suspicious and moving into another stage of protectiveness.

    Pippa looked a little nervous sitting alone in the car but managed a little wave toward me when her mother wasn¡¯t looking.  I didn¡¯t wave back because I was facing her mother and her mother knew me as Steve Wilson and in that guise, I had said I only knew her daughter in passing.  Eventually, as I knew she must, her mother came to the kiosk window to pay for her gasoline.  There was no way that she couldn¡¯t spot me.

    ¡°Oh, hi Steve,¡± she said as soon as she recognized me.  ¡°I didn¡¯t know you worked here.  What a coincidence.  My daughter works across the road.  That¡¯s her in the car.¡±  I pretended to show no interest but also not to look too disinterested so that Pippa¡¯s mother wouldn¡¯t think I was deliberately trying to avoid interest because I had something to hide.

    ¡°Oh, hello Mrs. Bailey,¡± I replied, ¡°that is a coincidence.  I don¡¯t go in there myself because I¡¯m not a fan of their burgers.¡±  That was partly true.  Steve Wilson didn¡¯t frequent that restaurant and Jeff Carter didn¡¯t like the burgers.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell my daughter that.  She might get a laugh out of it.  Well, no sense gabbing out here in the rain,¡± she said as she made an effort to go.  ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll see you running past the house again.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I commented.  She had made her payment and her pleasantries and was now on her way back to her car.  I didn¡¯t dare acknowledge Pippa but I so wanted to warn her.

    That was close.  It was one thing to be Steve Wilson when I was running past her house but it was another to be Steve Wilson out in public.  There were getting to be fewer and fewer places I could be Jeff Carter.

    I watched Pippa and her mother drive away.  What were they talking about in the car?  What would they talk about at home? It didn¡¯t seem like anything had come out of the day before at the avocado house because Pippa had at least acknowledged me with a wave.  If her mother had said anything then I¡¯m sure I would have been ignored.  Her mother also didn¡¯t act like she knew Steve Wilson and Pippa¡¯s secret boyfriend were the same.  That future Ben had told me to ignore was coming faster toward me than I had expected.

    I was feeling alone and scared.  I needed to talk to someone.  Ben wasn¡¯t working that night so I decided to give him a call and hoped he was awake.  He tended to go to bed early on the nights he wasn¡¯t working.  There were a list of employee names and phone numbers on the back wall of the kiosk.  I called up Ben and told him about the encounter at the Texaco.

    ¡°You told her Mother that you didn¡¯t like the burgers across the road?¡± he asked after I had detailed what had transpired.  ¡°You really messed up there.¡±

    ¡°I did?  But it¡¯s true, I don¡¯t really like their burgers.  I wasn¡¯t lying about that.¡±  I was trying to justify the comment.  It seemed innocent enough.

    ¡°But didn¡¯t she say she was going to tell her daughter to see if she got a laugh out of it?¡±

    I had forgotten about that.  Ben was right.  I really had messed up there.  I could almost imagine the conversation.

    ¡°Say, Pippa,¡± her mother would begin, ¡°do you know that Steve doesn¡¯t like the burgers where you work?¡±

    ¡°Steve, who¡¯s Steve?¡±  Pippa would ask.

    ¡°Oh, Steve¡¯s the young man who works in the kiosk at the Texaco,¡± her mother will respond.

    Either Pippa will slip up and say ¡°that¡¯s not Steve, that¡¯s Jeff¡± or ¡°his name¡¯s not Steve, it¡¯s Pink.¡± Or maybe she would ask how her mother knows this Steve she was talking about.

    It would all come out then.  If Pippa revealed my true name then her mother would know I was lying about Steve Wilson.  She would tell her daughter that first, she shouldn¡¯t have been sneaking around dating a boy at all and second this boy was not to be trusted because he had lied about his identity.

    There would definitely be an argument and the short of it would be her mother would tell Pippa she couldn¡¯t see me anymore or Pippa would be angry at me for the deceit and she would make the decision not to see me anymore.  Regardless of the outcome, it didn¡¯t look good for me.

    ¡°What are you going to do man?¡±

    I suddenly realized I was still on a phone call with Ben.  My mind had travelled to that future I had been contemplating either avoiding or trying to control.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied.  ¡°I think my world¡¯s unravelling as we speak¡­as they speak¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t panic Jeff.  Remember what Coach says, stay in your lane.  Keep moving forward.¡±

    ¡°Shut up Ben,¡± I countered.  ¡°Running¡¯s what got me into this.  If I hadn¡¯t run by her house that day, I wouldn¡¯t have met her mother.¡±

    ¡°The advice is still sound,¡± Ben replied.  ¡°The race hasn¡¯t changed.  You don¡¯t know yet your girlfriend knows about Steve Wilson.  The way I see it, you keep on being Jeff with Pippa unless you get the signal she knows the truth.  Keep running the path and when it crosses the mother you pass the baton off to Steve Wilson.  Don¡¯t fall back on the truth until you need that option.¡±

    ¡°But I think I should tell Pippa the truth now.  Maybe you¡¯re right, maybe she doesn¡¯t know but convincing her to go along with me being Steve Wilson is sounding crazier and crazier.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself Jeff but allow me to make one last suggestion.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked with curiosity building.

    ¡°Learn to like the burgers across the road,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Thanks a lot, Ben.  Go back to sleep.¡±

    After I hung up the phone with Ben, I mulled everything over.  I didn¡¯t think Ben had been much help.  Of course, he had pointed out where I had erred.  I shouldn¡¯t have made the comment about the burgers.  Pippa¡¯s mother would undoubtedly mention that to her daughter.  I felt like that mistake was going to lead to the death of my relationship with Pippa and it would be forever etched on my tombstone:  ¡°Here Lies Jeff Carter, He Died Alone And Unloved Because He Told His Girlfriend¡¯s Mother He Didn¡¯t like the Burgers.¡±

    I had to know where I stood with Pippa.  My conversation with Ben hadn¡¯t helped and I was growing more and more desperate.  I was so desperate in fact that I decided to run by her house after my shift.

    The rain had at least stopped by the time I reached the avocado house.  It wasn¡¯t quite midnight when I arrived at Pippa¡¯s home.  There was no moon and the nearest streetlight was down about half a block.  I knew that Pippa¡¯s bedroom window was around the back of the house and I would have to let myself in through a gate into the fenced yard.

    The gate to the rear yard was accessible through the back of the carport and connected up with the side of the house.  I cautiously made my way through the carport alongside her mother¡¯s car and made sure that I hunched down as I made my way past and underneath a kitchen window and the one for the bathroom.  I quietly unlatched the fence and let myself into the yard.  There were two windows at the back of the house and I knew the closest one was Pippa¡¯s and the far one was for her mother¡¯s bedroom.

    There was no light on in her mother¡¯s bedroom but the glow of a lamp emanated from Pippa¡¯s room.  I had to be very quiet so I didn¡¯t startle her or make any other noise to awaken her mother.  Hunkered below the sill I reached up and began to make a scratching noise at the window.  I waited until I could hear the window slide back.  There was no screen so Pippa¡¯s head appeared in the opening.  I rapidly rose in one motion and clamped my hand over her mouth.

    Pippa started to squirm and it looked like she would have screamed if she hadn¡¯t immediately recognized me.

    ¡°Pink, what are you doing here?¡± she whispered.  ¡°You scared me half to death.¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to you,¡± I whispered back.

    Pippa put a finger to her lips to silence me and then made gestures that I should go back the way I came.

    ¡°But I need to see you,¡± I said as quietly as I could but still adding emphasis.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to tell you to meet me in the carport.¡±  I had obviously mistaken her gesturing as instructions to leave.  I believe she knew something about me or Steve Wilson and she didn¡¯t want to talk to me ever again.  Asking me to stick around and meet her in a different location was at least a positive sign.

    I made my way to the carport and closed the gate behind me.  Pippa was quietly exiting the house as I came along even with the side door.

    ¡°Pink, what are you doing here?¡± she asked still whispering.  She had asked me that before but I hadn¡¯t noticed until she repeated it again that she had addressed me as Pink.  I wasn¡¯t Jeff and I wasn¡¯t Steve.  I wanted to heave a loud sigh of relief but I couldn¡¯t risk it.

    ¡°I needed to see you,¡± I said trying to match the volume of her voice.

    ¡°I know we didn¡¯t get to see each other today at the Texaco or at my work but it was raining.  My mother gave me a ride.  Remember, I gave you that wave?  Couldn¡¯t this have waited until tomorrow?  My mother might come out here at any minute.¡±

    I froze.  I wasn¡¯t sure how to answer.  Everything seemed to be okay.  Did I risk exposing the truth?

    ¡°Pink, you shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± Pippa said.  ¡°What is this all about?¡±

    ¡°I love you.¡±  I had found my voice.  ¡°I needed to tell you that.  I¡¯ve loved you since the first time I saw you.¡±  That was the first time I had ever told her I loved her.

    Pippa fell into my arms and hugged me.  I heard her whisper in my ear.  ¡°You¡¯re crazy.  You come here in the middle of the night and risk getting caught by my mother to tell me you love me.  It¡¯s about time.  Do you know how long I¡¯ve been in love with you?  I¡¯ve loved you ever since that slap.  I had hurt you so much and when I realized how much hurting you was hurting me, I realized I was in love with you.¡±

    This was madness.  Here it was midnight and we were confessing our love to each other for the first time in her family¡¯s garage.

    ¡°I needed you to know that,¡± I said.  ¡°I¡¯d risk anything to tell you that but I also don¡¯t ever want to hurt you.¡±  I was building to the truth.

    ¡°Pink, I wouldn¡¯t want to hurt you either, ¡°she responded. ¡°I¡¯ve done that once and I¡¯ll never do it again.  To be honest, I¡¯d rather lie to you or keep the truth from you than to ever hurt you again.¡±

    Okay, wait.  She said she¡¯d rather lie to me or withhold the truth to prevent from hurting me?  That cut me to the quick.  What was I to do?  If I told her the truth then it would upset her and I just couldn¡¯t do that.  Did she just give me an out?  If she could keep the truth from me so I wouldn¡¯t get hurt then wouldn¡¯t that work both ways?

    ¡°Pink, you have to go.  It¡¯s not just my mother that I¡¯m worried about but Roger¡¯s here too.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t seen Roger¡¯s motorcycle but when I looked over the hood of her mother¡¯s car I could see the handlebars.

    ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± I asked.  We were still embracing and whispering into each other¡¯s ears.

    ¡°He wiped out on a slick road just outside of town.  He¡¯s alright but the motorcycle has some scratches and dents.  That¡¯s why my mother picked me up from work.  She wanted to talk to me about Roger.  She hates that motorcycle and now that Roger¡¯s afraid to go home and face my dad about it, Mom¡¯s hoping she and I can convince Roger to move back in here.¡±

    I pulled myself back from Pippa and looked at her.  I certainly didn¡¯t want to face her mother but imagining a confrontation with her brother might be even worse.

    ¡°Does Roger know about us?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re a well-kept secret Pink, she replied.  ¡°I can¡¯t let Roger find out or he might tell both of my parents.  I¡¯m sorry Pink but you better leave.  Give me just a little more time.  I¡¯ll think of something.¡±

    That loud sigh of relief I had wanted to utter earlier when I realized she was still calling me Pink would have been a murmur compared to the one I wanted to sigh at that moment.  I hadn¡¯t ruined everything.  My comment about the burgers had not been passed on to Pippa.  Obviously, Roger¡¯s accident was the topic of discussion and I was in the clear¡­for now.  I decided to give her that time she asked for and during that period, I was determined to make Steve Wilson disappear.

    We embraced again and I told her I loved her again.  She went back into the house and I quietly stole away.

    On my way home, I stopped by the track to run a few more laps.  It was back to changing in the bushes again.

    There was no moon and the track was not lit.  It was stupid to run the track but I could make out the general shape and I could see the track beneath my feet.  The rest was instinct.  My feet found their path and I jogged slow and steady.

    My mind started to clear.  I didn¡¯t have to do anything.  Steve Wilson could run alongside me all he wanted.  It wasn¡¯t a competition.  My girlfriend had virtually given me permission to lie to her so she wouldn¡¯t be hurt.  I was trying to see a downside.  Ben had been right, I didn¡¯t need to worry about the future in the now.  The future was unfolding on its own and I wouldn¡¯t have to get out of the way of it.  I had to run toward the future and embrace it.

    The future was shining in the distance.  The future was looking brighter.

    Unfortunately, it was night time and I couldn¡¯t see the dark clouds on the horizon.

 10. The Shining Future

    One of the other movies we had studied the previous year in film class had been ¡®Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.¡¯  I think that is an appropriate title to describe that summer of 1978.  Of course, a more suitable title for me would have been ¡®A Strange Love or:  How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Girl¡¯.  It was a strange love between Pippa and I with us stealing our moments at the Texaco and our one mysterious midnight assignation in her carport.

    It was after our midnight meeting when I learned to stop worrying and love the girl.  I had wanted to tell her the truth about Steve Wilson so I should get some credit for at least thinking of telling her the truth.  It wasn¡¯t my fault she had somehow convinced me that telling her the truth was the wrong thing to do.  So, I put Steve Wilson out of my mind and I stopped worrying.

    July became August and Pippa and I continued on as if nothing happened.  I would pop in at her work sometimes before work and I found a burger option on the menu that I could tolerate.  Steve Wilson didn¡¯t like the burgers but I was no longer Steve Wilson so I had to do something about that.  The burger had bacon and was not covered in a secret sauce.  It was good enough.

    August rolled on closer to Pippa¡¯s birthday and we began to start talking about how we could possibly spend some part of it together.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to work on my Birthday,¡± Pippa commented one day at the Texaco when the topic came up.  ¡°That¡¯s at least something.¡±

    ¡°Hey, your Birthday is on a Saturday, I don¡¯t have to work either.¡±  Well that too was something and maybe we could build on it but how was the real question.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to spend some of it with my mother.  I told her I didn¡¯t want a party but she suggested going out to dinner with her and Roger and maybe inviting Sandra.¡±

    ¡°Sandra?¡±  I found myself asking out loud.  The way I had asked it had the inflection that instead of Sandra it should have been me.

    ¡°I know Pink,¡± Pippa replied.  ¡°I love Sandra but I really wish it could be you.  You know I would if I could but I can¡¯t.  It¡¯s still too soon.¡±

    It was always too soon.  I had, however, come to expect that.  I had to let Pippa handle this her way.  She had said to give her time and I knew if I rushed her into anything then the truth about Steve Wilson would have to come out.  I had promised myself not to worry about that anymore.

    ¡°What are you going to do after dinner?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  Maybe I could convince my mother to let Sandra and I go to a movie.¡±  That sounded nice.  Again, I wished it was going to be me.

    ¡°Hey wait a minute,¡± I started.  I suddenly had a brilliant idea or the makings of a brilliant idea.  ¡°Why not make it the drive-in?¡±  We had three drive-ins within driving distance of Belleville back then.  Two were fairly close but the third was a little further out and had a reputation of showing soft-core porn films.  I wasn¡¯t really suggesting that option.

    ¡°Why the drive-in?¡±  Pippa asked.

    ¡°Well, then I can come too.  We could spend time together.¡±  I was thinking about Pippa and I in the back seat while Sandra sat in the front.  Her cousin could watch the movie and Pippa and I could occupy ourselves otherwise.

    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting one thing, I don¡¯t drive.  Sandra hasn¡¯t got her license either.¡±  Well, there went that idea.  I too didn¡¯t drive.  Rod had his license but I wasn¡¯t going to ask my brother to chauffer my girlfriend and I and her cousin.  I loved my girlfriend and I loved my brother but my love for Rod wasn¡¯t so big that I could impose on him for that big a favour.

    ¡°I have to go, Pink.¡±  Pippa was still on her curfew of getting home after work.  ¡°There must be something we can do without confronting my mother directly.  I¡¯m not there yet.  Maybe if we both think on it we can come up with something.  After all, two heads are better than one.¡±

    Pippa and I were at the back of the Texaco and her bicycle was between us again.  She kissed me and sped off.  Two heads are better than one when you¡¯re kissing but I was getting tired of that bicycle and her mother coming between us.

    Throughout my entire shift that evening I did the thinking she asked of me.  I was still thinking on it when Ben came on at eleven.  I decided to get his input.  Three heads had to be even better than two.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t thinking about the drive-in south of here where they play soft-core porn films, are you?¡± Ben asked when I told him about my drive-in idea.

    ¡°No of course not!¡± I exclaimed.  ¡°Can you imagine me taking my girlfriend there on her Birthday?  I wouldn¡¯t have a girlfriend the next day.¡±

    ¡°Too bad, I always wanted to go there.  I thought about driving out there sometime but I¡¯d have to have a fake ID.  I¡¯m only seventeen.¡±  Ben and I were the same age at that time but I would turn eighteen in September.  Technically, I was dating an older woman.

    ¡°Wait, you drive?¡± I asked.  ¡°I didn¡¯t know you drive.  You don¡¯t drive a car to work.¡±

    ¡°Drive yes, car no.  I could borrow my mother¡¯s car or my father¡¯s but walking¡¯s better for me.  So is running.  You know that.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± I said again.  ¡°Back up.  You drive and have access to a car?  Buddy, where have you been all my life?¡±

    ¡°Collegiate,¡± Ben replied sarcastically.

    My mind was racing.  Ben could drive.  Ben could get access to a car.  Ben plus car equalled drive-in to my way of thinking.  Ben plus drive-in equalled Pippa and I in the back seat again.  I couldn¡¯t drive but my mind was racing that fast.

    ¡°How would you like to chauffeur Pippa and I to the drive-in?¡± I asked pleadingly.

    ¡°You mean you two and her cousin,¡± Ben pointed out.

    ¡°Oh yeah, her cousin.  There¡¯s that,¡± I said.  I had forgotten about the cousin.  In my mind, I had replaced her cousin with Ben as the driver watching the movie while Pippa and I got cozy in the back.

    ¡°What¡¯s her cousin like?¡± Ben asked. ¡°What if we made it a double date¡­unofficially of course?¡±

    I looked at Ben.  The phrase sly dog was coming to mind.  What was her cousin like?  I hadn¡¯t given her much thought other than being a third wheel.  My friendship with Pippa had become a triad throughout the school year as long as Sandra was around.  Sandra was also Pippa¡¯s go-to excuse when it came to her mother.  When Pippa had been attending the long relay practices she had told her mother she was there with her cousin.  Sandra was the accepted chaperone whether she was there or not.  The question was, what was her cousin like?

    ¡°Mousy,¡± I replied.

    ¡°What do you mean by mousy?¡± Ben asked.  ¡°Do you mean that she¡¯s quiet and shy and that people don¡¯t notice her?  I¡¯m not sure how I feel about that.¡±

    ¡°No, Pippa sometimes calls her ¡®mouse¡¯ as a nickname.¡±  That part was true.  ¡°She¡¯s shorter than me but not too short.  She¡¯s not quiet but she¡¯s not loud.  She¡¯s prettyish, I guess.  I don¡¯t know man, I¡¯m only making a comparison to Pippa but then anyone would pale next to Pippa.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not saying yes to anything until I get a look.¡±  Ben was firm on that.

    ¡°Do you like the burgers across the road?¡±  I asked.

    ¡°What¡¯s that have to do with anything?¡± he responded.

    ¡°You know that I go across there sometimes before work so I can get a look at Pippa.  Sandra works there too.  The price of admission to that viewing is one hamburger.¡±

    ¡°Suits me fine.  Do I get fries with that?¡±  Ben was being serious.

    ¡°Oh, you think I¡¯m buying your burger?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hey, man, you¡¯re the one that wants the favour,¡± Ben replied.

    ¡°Ok, ok.  The things I¡¯ll do for love.  I¡¯ll spring for the combo but I¡¯m not buying dessert.¡±

    The shining future was starting to come my way.  There was a plan in motion.  Now, if Ben would accept Sandra and more importantly if Sandra would accept Ben then Pippa and I were closer to spending a portion of her birthday together.  The next day at the kiosk window, I sprang the plan on her.

    ¡°There¡¯s a flaw in your plan, Pink.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s the flaw?¡± I asked.  ¡°Ben and I have thought this out.  I just need you to work on Sandra.¡±

    ¡°The problem isn¡¯t Sandra.  Well not, entirely.  The problem is that my mother knows that Sandra doesn¡¯t drive so how do I answer when she asks me who¡¯s driving us to the drive-in?¡±

    Ah, that flaw in my plan.  I guess I hadn¡¯t thought of that.

    ¡°Could we pass Ben off as her boyfriend?  Maybe your mother would be okay with that.  After all, there¡¯s safety in numbers.  Like heads, two chaperones are better than one.¡±  I thought that was clever.

    ¡°She¡¯d want to meet him and see that Ben and Sandra really are a couple.  She¡¯ll ask them a million questions.¡±

    ¡°You go to work on Sandra and I¡¯ll go to work on Ben.  It¡¯s the only way we¡¯re going to get to spend your Birthday together.¡±

    ¡°Okay, you bring Ben by the restaurant tomorrow.  I¡¯ll prep Sandra.  I¡¯m going to owe her big time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to owe Ben big time,¡± I responded.  ¡°At least if this doesn¡¯t work out then all I¡¯ll be out is the price of a burger combo.¡±

    Pippa looked confused.

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain it to you sometime,¡± I said.  Our hands lingered together for a while longer before she had to speed off home.

    The next day I met up with Ben at Pippa¡¯s place of work.  Luckily, Sandra was on the same shift.  I bought him his burger combo and I had a shake.  Sandra had waited on us and it was clear that Pippa had already talked to her.  Her eyes lingered on Ben but I think there was a flash toward me that showed either displeasure or interest.  I wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked as we sat at a table and eyed the girls.

    ¡°I like the burger.  It¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°Not, the burger, the girl!¡±  I exclaimed.

    ¡°Her too,¡± Ben said between bites.

    ¡°Her too, what?¡±  I asked.

    ¡°I like her too.  Do you want a fry?¡±  Ben held out his french-fry packet toward me.  He was taking this very casually.

    ¡°So, is Operation Drive-In a go?¡±  I asked.  I had given it a name but I wasn¡¯t married to it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s take this in stages,¡± Ben began.  ¡°Today was stage one.  The burger passed and the girl passed.  The next stage is if the girl says yes to me then I have to check and see if I can get a car for that night.¡±  Man, Ben was acting like a cool customer.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Ben,¡± I answered back, ¡°but between your stage one and stage two has to be another stage.  You have to meet the mother.¡±

    Ben¡¯s eyebrows went up but he didn¡¯t say anything for a minute.  He took a long sip on his soda before he responded.

    ¡°That makes sense.  The girl¡¯s parents will want to meet me before I take their daughter out.¡±  I knew immediately that Ben had missed my drift.

    ¡°No my friend, you have to meet the other mother,¡± I clarified.  I hoped he would get my meaning.

    Ben¡¯s eyebrows went up again.  ¡°Oh, you mean your girl¡¯s mother?  I¡¯m not following you.¡±  So much for the circuitous route, I thought.

    ¡°Okay, let me make this clear,¡± I began.  ¡°My girl¡¯s mother will want to meet the boyfriend of Pippa¡¯s cousin before she will let them take my girl out to the drive-in with them.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so now I¡¯m the boyfriend of your girl¡¯s cousin?¡± Ben asked.  Not only was clarity setting in but he had gone beyond and realized what his part in all of this would now entail.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Give that man a prize,¡± I joked.  ¡°You only have to play the role once, answer a few questions, schmooze the mother and we¡¯re away to the drive-in.¡±

    ¡°You mean a repeat performance and not a once-only performance,¡± Ben stated.

    ¡°Okay, now it¡¯s my turn to say I¡¯m not following you.  I¡¯m not following you.¡±  I was confused.  Ben may have been handling this casually but his mind was working on another plain.

    ¡°I¡¯m not dating any girl, remember?  If I have to play that part then don¡¯t I have to meet my girl¡¯s parents first?  What parent will want me to take their daughter to a drive-in if they haven¡¯t already met me yet?¡±

    I thought about that for a minute before responding.  ¡°And I thought the issue of Steve Wilson was complicated.  Buddy, I can¡¯t ask you to do all of that.¡±  Of course, I wanted to ask him to do all that because I had my ulterior motives but was my friendship with Ben worth risking for my relationship with Pippa?  In my mind it was.

    ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t say no,¡± Ben said.  ¡°I¡¯m just pointing out all of the steps we have to follow if your Operation Drive-In is going to work.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d do that for me?¡±  I asked.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m doing it for both of us.  I told you that cousin¡¯s a bit of all right.  But it¡¯s still going to cost you.  I¡¯ll provide the vehicle and you pay for the drive-in and the popcorn.  Oh, and I wouldn¡¯t mind one of these burgers again sometime.  They¡¯re not half bad.¡±

    I looked at Ben.  Here was a true friend.  He apparently had his motives and his stomach seemed to be one of them.

    I met up with Pippa at the Texaco as usual after her shift.  Ben had gone home to catch a few more hours sleep because he was working the overnight.  I laid out my plans to Pippa and explained to her how Ben had stressed that he would have to meet Sandra¡¯s parents as well.

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll like them, they¡¯re nice,¡± Pippa told me after I had detailed everything.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how nice they are but how convincing Sandra and Ben can be with your mother,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°It¡¯ll work Pink.  It has to.  I¡¯m going to be eighteen.  I think my mother doesn¡¯t want to push me away.  She¡¯s already got enough issues with Roger.¡±

    I had forgotten about Roger.  Pippa didn¡¯t talk much about him.  He had not moved back in with Pippa and her mother.  He had liked his freedom and he had finally confessed to his father about the accident.  He was working off the cost of the repairs.  Pippa didn¡¯t have any details about that but she was sure her father would have forgiven Roger just about anything.  Pippa had been clear that her relationship with Roger and her father were still sensitive topics she didn¡¯t want to discuss in detail.

    ¡°First the drive-in and then me,¡± I said, getting back to the topic at hand.

    ¡°Wrong Pink,¡± she replied.  ¡°First it¡¯s Sandra, then her parents, then my mother.  You are at the bottom of the list.¡±

    That was certainly how I felt.  I was always last.  If that happened to me in running then I¡¯d have given up the sport a long time ago.

    Pippa could sense what I was feeling and was quick to counter.  ¡°The best is always last,¡± she said and then leaned in for a kiss.  I grabbed her bicycle and lay it on the pavement.  Nothing was going to come between me and that kiss.  I may have been last on her list but I was going to put myself first when it counted.

    Everything seemed to go smoothly over the next few days.  Sandra agreed to the fake relationship with Ben and Ben passed his introduction to Sandra¡¯s parents.  I had been coaching Ben on what not to say.  I didn¡¯t want Pippa¡¯s mother receiving some information filtered along through the family that suggested I was in any way involved in the drive-in outing.  I had advised Ben that he avoid any conversation about track or running and definitely to avoid anything which would link back to me or Steve Wilson.

    After the meeting with Sandra¡¯s parents, there was the obligatory meeting with Pippa¡¯s mother.  Mrs. Bailey had been almost defiant with Pippa she was not going to the drive-in with Sandra and her boyfriend.  Pippa was defiant right back and stood up for herself.  She didn¡¯t mention Roger but her mother understood Pippa was turning an age that suggested she really didn¡¯t need her mother¡¯s approval but if they wanted to be civil under the same roof then her mother had to start loosening any conditions or curfews.

    Pippa was elated when she told me her mother had agreed to meet Ben; with Sandra in tow of course.  Sandra had to be there in order to contribute to the ruse.

    ¡°Tomorrow, after work, Ben and Sandra are coming to my house,¡± Pippa told me through the kiosk window.  I had a couple of customers when she first arrived so she fell back on the washroom key ploy.

    ¡°Ben¡¯s ready, I¡¯ve been coaching him,¡± I said.

    ¡°Coaching him on what?¡± Pippa asked.  It occurred to me I hadn¡¯t told her I was instructing Ben on what not to say that would connect him to me.  Of course, I couldn¡¯t let her know about that because I was still holding back some things I didn¡¯t want Pippa to know.

    ¡°Oh, you know, how not to be nervous around your mother and how not to raise any suspicion.  Remember, you¡¯re not going with anyone else to the drive-in as far as your mother is concerned.  You¡¯re just a third wheel to Sandra and Ben.  We can¡¯t have your mother thinking anything else.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that makes sense.  Cross your fingers, Pink.¡±  I thought that might be difficult because her hand was in mine again.

    ¡°Do you have to leave so soon?¡± I asked.  ¡°I thought you told me your mother was going to start easing your curfew?¡±  I was hoping she could linger a while longer.  As we got closer to her birthday, I was anxious about spending time with her.  Even though I had been training myself not to worry, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that not all was well.  I didn¡¯t want to have to burden her with my fears but just being around her helped dispel any anxiety.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to hurry home but I think I better,¡± she replied.  ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s too important and I don¡¯t want to set my mother thinking that something¡¯s up because I didn¡¯t come home early on the first day she¡¯s easing my curfew.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but how will I know how it went?  You¡¯re meeting up after you¡¯re done working but I¡¯ll be here.  I won¡¯t know anything at all.  Ben¡¯s not even scheduled tomorrow night.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about another moonlight rendezvous?¡± she asked.

    I was surprised.  Last time, she had been fearful of getting caught and now she was willing to risk it even with everything at stake.

    ¡°Are you sure?  It seems a little risky to me,¡± I said.  She seemed to be flaunting the lifting of restrictions a little too much.  I was afraid of fouling everything up before her birthday.  That feeling of anxiety was creeping back in.

    ¡°You¡¯re worth it,¡± she answered.  ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in the garage at midnight.  Stay in the shadows.¡±  Now I was getting advice from her about sneaking around her place in the dark.  I thought I had done pretty well for myself the last time I had been there.

    ¡°Should I wear a trench coat?¡±

    ¡°Funny man,¡± she replied.  Pippa gave my hand a tight squeeze and was gone.

    I watched out the back window as Pippa biked off home.  The comparison of her riding her bicycle and everything was riding on the interview tomorrow wasn¡¯t lost on me.  I kept repeating to myself ¡°this is going to work, ¡°this is going to work.¡±  As much as I didn¡¯t enjoy being in my own shoes just then, I certainly didn¡¯t want to be in Ben¡¯s.

    I was on edge the entire next day.  I barely slept that night.  I tried clearing my mind the night before with another night run around the track.  I also went for a morning run and another just before leaving for work.  My legs might have been working but I was just going through the motions.

    During my pre-work run, I kept imagining how things were going at the avocado house.  Pippa was at work but what was her mother preparing for Ben?  I felt like I was sending Ben to an interrogation that would outrival anything the police would offer to crime suspects.  I couldn¡¯t help him.  If he wasn¡¯t ready by then I knew he would never be ready.  I had to trust him.

    At the Texaco, I went through the motions of my job.  My mind was elsewhere.  I watched the clock as I knew that soon after I arrived at work Ben and Sandra would be meeting with Pippa and her mother.  All the various scenarios played through my head.  My mantra of ¡°this is going to work¡± was low comfort.  I was afraid I was tied to a relationship that never got passed the hand-holding stage in a kiosk window or the occasional kiss over a bicycle.

    I couldn¡¯t keep my mind clear.  Between customers, I would go outside and sweep around the pump islands.  I took a rag and put a shine to everything.  I kept that up all evening.  I knew when Dave came on at eleven that the station would be gleaming.  I didn¡¯t care.  I had to keep myself busy.

    The hours rolled on and soon it was eleven and Dave was inside the kiosk and I was on my way to Pippa¡¯s house.  I walked slowly and took a longer route up unnecessary side streets.  I didn¡¯t want to arrive too early.  There was a full moon and everything seemed brighter and I felt like I was standing out.

    As I came up Pippa¡¯s street I walked at a normal pace.  I knew walking quickly or even slowly would make me look suspicious to anyone who happened to glance out their window.

    I slipped quickly up her driveway and into the carport and along the side of the car that was furthest from the house.  There were no lights on in the house and those dark shadows I hid in enveloped me and I knew no one could see me from the side entrance.

    I had only been in the garage a few minutes when I could barely see the side door open slowly.  It did not make a sound.

    ¡°Pink?¡± I heard from a low whisper.

    ¡°Over here,¡± I whispered.  I instinctively waved my hand but then realized it was so dark where I stood that the gesture would be lost on her.

    Pippa came around the garage and came up to hug me.  Her lips were near one of my ears as she began to speak.

    ¡°Oh, Pink, it¡¯s been so dreadful.  I thought time had slowed down.  I¡¯ve been in my room looking at my clock for the last two hours hoping time would finally speed up and it would be midnight.¡±  Despite the warmth of the night, she was shivering in my arms.

    ¡°Oh no, is it that bad?¡±  I asked.  All those thoughts of dread and worry were now at the forefront.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Pink,¡± she answered.  ¡°I don¡¯t really know.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡±  How could she not know?  I thought it was pretty simple.  Either her mother was going to let her go to the drive-in with Sandra and Ben or she wasn¡¯t.   ¡°Wait, start at the beginning,¡± I continued.  I thought this might be an easy way of directing her on informing me on what transpired.

    ¡°Everything was going well,¡± she began, ¡°until Ben mentioned that he worked at the Texaco.  I didn¡¯t think this was a problem but then my mother wanted to know if Ben knew Steve Wilson who worked there.  Who¡¯s Steve Wilson, Pink?  Is he the other guy who works midnights when Ben is off?¡±

    And there it was.  Steve Wilson had been resurrected from the dead.  All my fears had been realized and the bright shining future was now a present of impending doom.

    ¡°What¡¯s so important about Steve Wilson?¡± I asked.  Maybe it wasn¡¯t so bad.  Maybe I could continue the lie and build up Steve Wilson as a real person with a history of his own and a life working night shifts at a gas station.

    ¡°Mom seems to know him,¡± Pippa replied.  ¡°She says he¡¯s a nice guy who stopped in once and helped her take our old recliner out to the street.  She was so impressed by him that she¡¯s asked Ben if maybe this Steve would like to accompany us to the drive-in.¡±

    Yep, I had screwed up.  My creation of Steve Wilson had been a reflex action upon meeting her mother.  I had tried to keep them separate and let the character of Steve Wilson quietly disappear but he kept dogging my heels as if we really were in a race together.  There were many ¡®if onlys¡¯ going through my mind.  If only Pippa¡¯s mother hadn¡¯t been so controlling.  If only I hadn¡¯t run by the house that day and encountered her mother.  If only her mother hadn¡¯t stopped at the Texaco.  If only I had told Pippa the truth sooner.  If only, if only.  Those two words could have been my salvation at the time if only the ¡®if onlys¡¯ hadn¡¯t happened.

    There was another fleeting moment where I thought another lie could salvage the situation.  Wouldn¡¯t it have been easier to just say that Steve Wilson did work the opposing overnight shift?  I could have told her that Steve couldn¡¯t accompany Pippa to the drive-in because Ben was off the night of her birthday and so Steve had to work.  Operation-Drive-In could still be a possibility because Pippa¡¯s mother would have to accept Pippa would be alone with Ben and Sandra.  I could still be with her as myself.  We could deal with everything later.  I could eventually tell her the truth about Steve Wilson and we¡¯d have a good laugh about it.  All of the ¡®coulds¡¯ were just as bad as the ¡®if onlys¡¯.  There was nothing left for me but to tell her the truth.

    We had still been hugging and whispering into each other¡¯s ears.  I didn¡¯t want that to stop.  I wanted to hold onto her and never let her go.  The buildup of the deception was going to push us apart.  Maybe we could have laughed about it in the future after her birthday or after we were married or after we had grown old together.  I knew at that moment telling her the truth in the dark in the carport would hold no humour.

    ¡°I¡¯m Steve Wilson,¡± I said coolly.  There was no other way to break it to her.

    Pippa pushed me away and stepped back.  ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re Steve Wilson?¡±  There were a gang of emotions in her question.  I sensed confusion as well as disappointment and sadness and anger.

    I told Pippa everything.  I stressed how much I loved her and reminded her of how I had loved her the first time I saw her.  I talked about the strain on our relationship with only stolen moments.  I told her how I had panicked when I met her mother and I had never intended for everything to go any further than just helping her mother carry that recliner to the curb.  I even told her how I had considered telling her the truth and to getting her to go along with my Steve Wilson ruse and later I had decided against telling her the truth because I knew how much it would hurt her.  I was hoping she would realize that not divulging the truth had been inspired by her telling me that was what she would do to avoid causing me pain.

    I felt no relief in telling her the truth.  Everything came out and she stood there and listened.  After it had all been told, I saw her bristle and her arm came up and I knew that another slap was in store.

    I grabbed her arm and said ¡°not this time, Pippa.   I may deserve it and I have been and will continue to beat myself up over this but you slapping me again is something neither of us wants.¡±

    She started to cry and raised her voice.  ¡°You bastard!  How could you do this to me, Jeff?¡±  Pink was gone.  That omission was as good as a slap to my soul.

    I tried to reach out for her but she continued to back away.

    ¡°Pippa, I¡¯m sorry.  I didn¡¯t mean for any of this to happen.  Can¡¯t we talk about this?¡±

    ¡°No Jeff, we can¡¯t,¡± she replied through sobs.  ¡°You know how I am with trust.  You violated something sacred.  After all I¡¯ve been through this past year and you do this?  You need to leave.¡±

    ¡°Please Pippa,¡± I said beggingly.  I am sure I was crying as well.

    Suddenly there was a light turned on in the house and Pippa¡¯s mother could be heard calling her name.  I dropped down to the ground in order to hide myself behind the car.  Pippa dried her eyes and walked toward the side door.

    I could hear her mother at the door.  ¡°Who were you talking to dear?¡±

    I still remember Pippa¡¯s voice and her words.  The tone was empty of emotion.  The words were like a knife.

    ¡°No one mother.  No one at all.¡±

 11. Heated Exchange

    When you¡¯re a teenager you act like you¡¯ve got it all figured out.  You base your demeanour on every other teenager in your life and assume they have it all figured out so you have to act that way as well.  What a crock!

    When I was in high school I hadn¡¯t experienced anything until it happened to me for the first time.  I had no previous knowledge to draw upon to make important decisions.  I didn¡¯t know what being in a relationship was all about until I found myself in one and even then I still didn¡¯t know what the hell I was doing.

    I had screwed up.  That¡¯s all I really knew.  I had ruined the only romantic relationship I had ever had.  I had taken one of those firsts, falling in love with a girl the first time I saw her, and had built it up into a true connection only to tear it all down with deception.

    I was sure that Pippa hated me.  To her, I was now no one at all.  I wasn¡¯t even in that middle I knew and where I had felt comfortable.  I was lower than that.  I was no one at all.

    I had walked away from the avocado house that night with nothing in my step.  I could barely walk let alone run.  And why would I run?  I had nothing to run toward or nothing to run for.  I would only be running away from something and wherever things were heading, I wasn¡¯t in any hurry to get there.

    I went home and was determined to hide in the safety of my room forever.  I couldn¡¯t even do that.  I felt trapped so I snuck out and walked around.  I walked back up around the Texaco and across the road to the burger joint.  I didn¡¯t stop anywhere or talk to anyone.  Lights were out or went out as I walked.

    I eventually found myself at the school and out by the track.  I lay down on the gravel and stared up at the moon.  Somewhere under the same moon, Pippa was fast asleep or crying herself to sleep or lying awake thinking of my betrayal.

    I got up and started to walk the track.  It was comforting because the track had been the location of some of my successes.  I imagined Pippa off to the side with her guitar and playing and singing snatches from ¡®Follow That Dream.¡¯

    Well, you gotta follow that dream wherever that dream may lead

    You gotta follow that dream to find the love you need

    Keep a-movin, move along, keep a moving

    Got to find me someone whose heart is free

    Someone to look for my dream with me

    And when I find her I may find out

    Just what my dreams are all about

    I had tried to follow that dream.  I had pursued Pippa until I was red in the face¡­literally, from a slap.  But hadn¡¯t I been her dream too?  Hadn¡¯t she told me she knew she loved me after that slap?  Hadn¡¯t she told me she never wanted to hurt me again and would lie or withhold the truth to that end?  Why hadn¡¯t it worked for me?  I had withheld the truth but I knew that wasn¡¯t right.  I had told her the truth.  Why wasn¡¯t I still her dream?  I remembered back to my first meeting at the avocado house and she told me sometimes she dreamed of a brighter future but she didn¡¯t know how to get there.  I had told her you gotta follow that dream.  I knew I had also been the one to dash her dreams.

    I began to run.  All my instincts told me not to run.  I had no reason to run.  I ran regardless of any reason.  The track stretched out before me where I knew the straight and true and what was around each corner.  This was the only relationship I had now.  Running was what I understood.

    I don¡¯t know how long I ran.  The night seemed long and time didn¡¯t move.  I remember what Pippa had said when she had waited for me that evening.  She had thought time had slowed down.  That was how I was feeling as I ran laps that night.  I was trapped in one loop of time that bore down on me and reminded me of how I had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me.

    My mind cascaded away with regret and despair.  Sometimes it would latch onto hope and I would think of a scenario that would win me back my girl.  It was false hope.  All of my notions hinged on her forgetting and forgiving.  That wasn¡¯t going to happen.  There was no longer a shining future.  I should have realized that shining things are not always bright and clean.  Sometimes they¡¯re a glistening sharpness like a knife that cuts away at you and wounds you.

    I ran the track until I could run no more.  I had felt this way before that night I had first become Steve Wilson.  I had come to the track to run out my frustrations with my own stupidity.  There I was again running to feel something.  It didn¡¯t work.  The only thing I felt was empty and tired.

    I went home and snuck back into my room.  I don¡¯t know how I managed to sleep.  It was very early in the morning and I had been out for many hours.  I shouldn¡¯t have been able to sleep but the emptiness I was feeling extended to my mind and there was nothing there to keep me from slumber.  If there had been dreams that night they had vacated my brain by the time I awoke.

    I eventually learned from Ben the same story I had heard from Pippa.  He was truly apologetic to me about mentioning to Pippa¡¯s mother that he worked at the Texaco.   I couldn¡¯t fault him because none of my coaching had included the possibility of that topic.  When it did come up and his mother had asked him to set Pippa up with Steve Wilson, all he could do was to say he would try.  He had seen the confusion on Pippa¡¯s face but he couldn¡¯t say anything without betraying me.  He had thought of coming by the station to let me know but he didn¡¯t know what to say.  He knew I was meeting up with Pippa that night and he had to let me find out from her.  I probably would have done the same thing if I were him.

    Ben had offered to cancel the drive-in evening.  Pippa wouldn¡¯t hear of it.  Her determination to move on without me included going ahead with the birthday plans.  She had explained to her mother she didn¡¯t want to have Steve Wilson along because she didn¡¯t know him.  The truth was she was probably thinking back on our relationship and thinking she really didn¡¯t know me.  Ben also offered to me to cancel the date but I didn¡¯t want to deny Pippa anything.  It was her birthday and I wasn¡¯t about to spoil it for her.

    I had only asked Ben for one favour.  I gave him my present for Pippa and asked him to wait until they got to the drive-in before giving it to her.  I had written out a very short note in a card saying I was sorry and I loved her and I wished she would have a very Happy Birthday.  The next time I saw Ben at the Texaco he returned the record to me.  The gift wrap had not even been removed.  The envelope had been opened, however, and apparently, she had read the note.  The torn pieces of the card were also returned to me in the envelope.

    Ben told me about the evening in detail.  They had gone to the drive-in outside of town only a few minutes away.  They had seen ¡®Grease¡¯ with Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta.  Ben had enjoyed the picture and he told me how Pippa had appeared happy and showed no signs of the trauma of our break-up.  That was small comfort to me.

    It seemed Ben had enjoyed himself even more than Pippa.  He and Sandra had hit it off and when he took her home, after dropping off Pippa, she had kissed him.  I told him I was happy for him but secretly my insides were turning.  Ben and Sandra had received the benefits of my Operation Drive-In and I was the one who was suffering.  Ben didn¡¯t even ask me to reimburse him for the cost of the evening as we had discussed.  That was just as well because I didn¡¯t really feel like paying for his happiness.

    A week later, ¡®Grease¡¯ was playing at the Cinema in town.  Ben had agreed to treat me in order to take my mind off my troubles.  He had liked it so much he was sure it was the tonic I needed.  We sat in the back row and Ben sang along to all of the songs.  I hated the film.  Here was the story of a summer romance that ended when school had started in the fall and Olivia¡¯s character of ¡®Sandy¡¯ was miserable throughout the majority of the movie because her love interest was being a jerk.  That story was too close to my own.  I tried to have a good time and laugh while Ben was singing his heart out but inside I was crying out mine.

    I wasn¡¯t sure what to do with the Elvis record that had been returned to me.  Pippa was the Elvis fan.  A few days after Pippa¡¯s birthday, on the sixteenth of August, was the one-year anniversary of Elvis¡¯ death.  I imagined Pippa was probably struggling with the remembrance of his passing.  Maybe it had been providence she hadn¡¯t opened the wrapping.  The record would have been a too painful reminder of someone¡¯s music she had loved and someone she had loved who had betrayed her.

    I decided to play the album to honour Elvis¡¯ death and honour the relationship I had had with Pippa.  The first track on the first side stunned me.  It was a song Elvis had performed on the Steve Allen Show in 1956 and had also recorded.  The title alone should have been a warning to me, ¡®I Want You, I Need You, I Love You¡¯.  Part of the lyrics reflected everything I had been feeling since Pippa had sent me away.

    I thought I could live without romance

    Until you came to me

    But now I know that

    I will go on loving you eternally

    Won''t you please be my own?

    Never leave me alone

    ''Cause I die every time we''re apart

    I want you, I need you, I love you

    With all my heart

    I could see what Pippa liked in Elvis.  This guy did have a song for almost every occasion.  Listening to Elvis made me think of those times Pippa had sung to me.  Hadn¡¯t she first sung to me at the avocado house?  I recalled how her quiet voice had crooned ¡°We can''t go on together with suspicious minds.  And we can''t build our dreams on suspicious minds¡±.  Had that been a foreshadowing of things to come?  How was that Widow of Elvis feeling at that moment?  Her relationship to Elvis was the only one she had left.

    I listened to the rest of the record.  There was also a version of ¡®Hound Dog¡¯ from that same Steve Allen show and some interviews and comedy bits from other shows.  I wasn¡¯t really stirred by anything else on the album until the last track on the flip side.  This was the duet that Elvis had performed with Sinatra on the television special Pippa had told me about.  This was the reason why I had tracked down the album.  It started off with Sinatra singing lines from ¡®Love Me Tender¡¯ and Elvis alternating with one of Sinatra¡¯s songs, ¡®Witchcraft¡¯.  I hadn¡¯t been moved by their singing until Elvis joined Sinatra on the last refrain and they sang ¡°For my darling, I love you and I always will¡±.

    I completely broke down and cried.  The record ended and skipped at the end waiting for me to lift the tone arm and return it to its cradle.  I couldn¡¯t bear to turn it off.  That gap at the end of the record was a sad reminder to me that my relationship had also ended and I could let it keep on ending and skipping on into infinity or I could try to restart it.

    I decided to keep on with my life and see if an opportunity presented itself where I could reconcile with Pippa.  The summer rolled on and I continued working at the Texaco.  The evenings were very lonely.  I stayed away from Pippa¡¯s work and she stayed away from mine.  I would watch for her each day but she obviously took a different route home.  I still enjoyed Ben¡¯s company and I¡¯d stay on some evenings and visit with him before heading home.

    Ben and Sandra¡¯s relationship blossomed.  They went on other dates but never to the drive-in.  Her parents weren¡¯t about to let him go there without a chaperone or a third person in the car to keep things on the up and up.  I offered to go with them but Ben didn¡¯t think two guys alone with Sandra in a car were exactly what her parents meant by proper supervision.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    I teased Ben once about his relationship with Sandra.  I compared her to the character of Sandy in ¡®Grease¡¯ and asked if his romance was a summer fling like in the movie.  He gave me a withering stare that suggested he wasn¡¯t going to be a jerk like Travolta¡¯s character in the movie or someone else he knew.  I got the message.

    When the summer ended, I left the Texaco.  I didn¡¯t want to work throughout the school year.  I had been offered part-time work but I decided to pass on it.  Rod stayed on at the station and did not return to school in September.  He had been offered a manager¡¯s position by the owner because the previous manager was going off on maternity.  She had scaled back her duties over the summer by only working the daytime weekend shifts.  I had never met her or the girl who worked the evening shifts when I was off.

    Rod was quite happy to continue to work but my parents were not happy about it.  Grade thirteen wasn¡¯t compulsory but they had imagined Rod taking the extra year to prep for University.  Rod had his own ideas.  He had once told me he had his future ahead of him and he could also find a girlfriend if he wanted.  The Texaco provided both.  Rhonda was the girl that worked evenings on the weekend and apparently Rod would visit her sometimes when she was working that summer.  She was attending the local college in the fall to study child care.  Rod eventually introduced her to the family and I was happy for Rod.  Anyone, in my opinion, who could tolerate my brother was okay by me; not that Rod would have sought out or needed my approval.

    Starting school in the fall, that was my lot in life.  I was surrounded by couples like Ben and Sandra at school and Rod and Rhonda at home.  Pippa and I were only in one class together in the first semester.  It was a creative writing course.  She didn¡¯t sit near me and she tried not to make eye contact but sometimes I¡¯d catch her glancing my way.  I, of course, was always looking in her direction.  I was surprised the teacher didn¡¯t call me on it.

    I was sure everyone in the school knew about our break-up.  I was also positive that everyone knew I was the reason for the relationship¡¯s end.  That¡¯s another thing about being a teenager.  You assume that everyone knows everyone else¡¯s business or they do.  I chose not to know or even care about most everyone around me.  I was no longer in the middle.  I was in a classification all my own.

    Track started again in September and I turned up for the first practice.  Marty and John Park were gone as well as Tom whom I had hardly known.  I heard that the Park brothers went to different Universities in Toronto and competed against each other in track events.  There were three senior holdovers I didn¡¯t know very well in addition to the five of us who had joined in the spring after the Harrier.  Of the juniors, only Ben and I had any competition experience.

    Practices were dull without Pippa¡¯s accompaniment or even her presence.  With all of the running I had done throughout the summer, I found that my endurance in the distance run had improved.  Ben was able to keep pace with me because he had kept fit through his own running to and from the Texaco and when he¡¯d met up with me occasionally on the track.  Ben and the track were the only ones who had stood by me and I knew where I stood with both.

    It was about two weeks after school had started when I turned eighteen and my world changed in more ways than one.  I went to the movies on my birthday with Ben.  It was one of those dumb Cheech and Chong drug comedies, ¡®Up In Smoke¡¯.  I had begged Rod to lend Ben his birth certificate because the movie had an ¡®R¡¯ rating.  Rod refused but we took a chance we could get in.  The guy at the cinema didn¡¯t even ask to see Ben¡¯s ID but me he carded.  He was a little suspicious my birth certificate showed the same day and month on which we were seeing the movie.  I still remember him saying ¡°have at it man and Happy Birthday.¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure he really believed me but at least Ben and I were admitted.  As I said, the movie was dumb.

    Another big change occurred a couple of days after my birthday.  At track practice that day was a new face.  His name was Bastien Lavoie.  I hated him the first time I saw him.  Bastien with his perfect jet-black hair and French-Canadian accent was new to the school and I recognized immediately he was going to be competition for me on and off the track.

    Every year one female and one male student who were going into grade twelve and had been studying French were part of an exchange program with a high school in Quebec City.  For the school term, two families hosted the new students from Quebec and the corresponding families in Quebec hosted two of our own.  Bastien Lavoie and Marie Tremblay were sent to us.

    Let me say a little about Marie Tremblay because, frankly, I knew little about her.  She was a brunette and very pretty.  I think she knew it too.  Every year there were always some guys in our school who would line up to drool over the new exchange female but in the past, the two students from Quebec City associated mostly with themselves.  Things were a little different with Marie and Bastien.

    Marie liked the attention that was fawned on her by the other males at our school.  She played the innocent card a little too much to my way of thinking. She always seemed to be losing her way in the school and would find some male to escort her to wherever it was she was going.  I don¡¯t know what happened outside of school hours but I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised to see her with a line of fellows trailing out behind her.  Talk about diplomacy between provinces.

    Bastien was only slightly different.  I suspected he also knew how much he was admired by his host school female population.  In his case, however, he always knew where he was going and a select female pack followed him.  Unfortunately, Pippa became one of them.

    I don¡¯t know what Pippa saw in Bastien.  Sure he had nice hair, to the point of perfection, and he was tall and athletic.  Strip that all away and what did you have?  His fluency in English was also flawless.  He annunciated with such clarity that you were sure every word was hand selected for maximum effect.  Why did a guy like that need to come to our school?  If there was a committee at his Quebec City school who chose candidates, I¡¯m sure he had impressed every one of them.

    Did I mention he was a runner?  Of course, he was.  Mr. Perfection had to be if only to aggravate me.  I guess it wasn¡¯t true I had hated him the first time I saw him.  I had seen him around the school for a week before he showed up at the track.  I had sized him up in the school with his swagger and the jaw drops from every other girl in the school but I didn¡¯t really care.  I knew he¡¯d be gone at the end of the school year like all the rest.  Coming out to track was another thing altogether.

    Apparently, Bastien had been a runner at his Quebec school and performed quite well for himself.  Coach Russell was significantly impressed by his qualifications that Bastien was accepted immediately into our fold.  He didn¡¯t even have to run the Harrier like the rest of us.  I would have thought his qualifications might have been just talk until I saw him run.  He was fast.  He was John and Marty Park fast and then some.  That¡¯s when I began hating him.  Okay, maybe not then but it might have begun to ferment that first day he attended practice and built later on to full-blown hatred.

    Bastien was fast but I knew in running there¡¯s speed on the short distances and speed that lasts for the duration of a long race.  I was resolved not to be bested by him.  I¡¯d not only been successful in the long relay, I¡¯d been experiencing a form of long haul that entire previous year.  I would not be challenged on my endurance.

    Bastien would encounter Pippa in her French class.  It might have been mandatory for him to attend but there was no grade in it for him.  All of the exchange students were required to take grade twelve French for the conversation aspect.  It was stimulation mostly for all of the other students in the class.  I had taken French for the first two years of my high-school life and I felt no need to pursue it further.  I wanted to be a writer or a teacher and I felt well qualified in my native English with no offence intended to Canada¡¯s other official language.

    I had soon begun to see Pippa in the crowd of followers in Bastien¡¯s wake.  I heard their whispers and murmurs.  I heard their comments, ¡°Oh that Bastien¡± or just simply ¡°that Bastien¡± repeated like they were eyeing a pastry to be devoured.  I soon began to refer to him as ¡°that Bastard¡± if only to myself.  Even Ben shared in the sentiment and soon began referring to him as ¡°that Bastard¡± whenever we were griping together about that glorified eye candy.

    I couldn¡¯t believe Pippa was enchanted by that Bastard.  I thought she was smarter than that and could see right past his visual trappings.  Of course, I finally realized that was it.  The jet-black hair was just like that of Elvis Presley.  He had the side-burns of a sort as well.  Elvis had that southern drawl and here was Bastien with an accent that was melting female students¡¯ hearts down to butter.  Chalking all of that down in my hatred column for him, I soon realized what I was up against.

    Coach began slotting Bastien in starting positions for all races in our track practices.  I wasn¡¯t the only one who began to resent that Bastard.  Ben and I were aligned together in our way of thinking against him and I knew some of the other members of our team were feeling the same.  It didn¡¯t help he was fast and showed up even our senior runners.

    I channelled my hatred for Bastien into my gait.  Coach didn¡¯t use me in the short track practices but when Bastien began racing the half-mile and mile, I decided that there would be no passing me by.  I imagined him with Pippa and running away with her and I was determined to keep pace, catch him, and leave him gawking after me.

    That fall there was a West End competition.  The All City usually consisted of the four in-town schools and the Catholic Secondary.  The West End included only the two schools considered in the west end as well as Bayside, a high school just outside of town.  Bayside was unique in that it was halfway between Belleville and Trenton and could be invited to competitions in either city.  The distinction for the All City was that a high school had to be within the city limits to compete in that tournament.

    There was no long relay set for the West End event.  It had only been brought back for the All City that past spring and hopefully would happen again the following year.  Our Coach had been advocating for it to become an annual event but knew it required a great deal of training.  We would have to wait until the spring to see if the organizing committee would reinstate it again.  We¡¯d also have to develop a new team for that event because Marty and John were gone and Ben and I weren¡¯t keen on Bastien becoming one of our ranks.

    Bastien had the speed and he had his followers.  It was ridiculous how the girls at our school came out to cheer him on.  The rest of us didn¡¯t have those kinds of groupies.  I had had Pippa but it was a new year and I had no one in my rooting section.

    Coach could foresee us cleaning up at the West End tournament with Bastien scheduled in all events.  He outran anyone on our team in the short track speed events and soon Coach was eyeing him for the longer races as well.  Bastien was always fast at the start and kept his lead throughout the shorter races.  He wouldn¡¯t let up and always had an even stronger finish.

    Ben and I were, in my humble opinion, our team¡¯s strongest long distance runners.  We had been pace partners for the Park brothers and had proven ourselves in the long relay.  Bastien had no experience with the longer sprints but Coach thought speed would win out.  I didn¡¯t care what Coach thought, I just wanted my chance to show him up and I wanted to show Pippa the lengths I would go to be back with her.

    Around school, I began to see Bastien squiring Pippa around with her arm in his.  That might have been my tipping point into full-on hatred for the guy.  That had been me.  I had worked that up into my relationship with Pippa.  It hadn¡¯t been Bastien who had put in the hours first being part of a larger group with Pippa and then moving into the smaller group which also included her cousin.  I was hoping maybe he¡¯d get slapped while I also harboured a notion to punch him in his face.

    Pippa started coming out to some of our practices.  She¡¯d arrive with Bastien¡¯s other followers but always sat off by herself or with Sandra.  Sandra would attend sometimes and Ben was sure to perform better when he knew she was there.  The cheering for Bastien was distracting.  His admirers could be very raucous when he was running but he ate it up.  He¡¯d often grin and wave when he ran.  I¡¯d laugh to myself and imagine him doing that with a baton in his hand and striking himself in the head.

    The first half-mile I ran against Bastien, being two laps around the track, was interesting.  Ben, Bastien, and I all lined up together and when Coach blew his whistle, Bastien was gone and away.  Ben and I kept even with each other and watched Bastien plow on ahead.  The vocal encouragement from his boosters could be heard on the far side of the track.  After completing the first lap, Ben gave me a look as if to ask which one of us was going to get around to taking on our Quebec colleague.  There wasn¡¯t a clear signal between either of us so we both decided to pour it on.

    I had learned a lot from John Park during our time together on the track team.  Leaving something in the tank was the greatest lesson both Ben and I had learned.  With only a half lap to go, Ben and I easily caught up to Bastien and left him behind.  Bastien¡¯s cheering section took up the call but it didn¡¯t translate well.  Bastien fell further and further behind.  Ben and I, without speaking, mutually agreed to cross the finish point simultaneously.  By that time, the only praise coming from off the field was for Ben.  Sandra was the sole voice of congratulation.  I noticed as well that the remaining crowd had thinned out and even Pippa was gone.

    ¡°Good race, gentlemen,¡± Bastien said to Ben and I when he finally completed his lap.  ¡°Of course, I chose not to exert myself too much before the competition.¡±

    I still wanted to punch him in his perfect face but that would have ended my running career.  I thought a better insult was more in order.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got the speed Bastien but you have to remember to always save something for the finish.¡±  John Park¡¯s words had felt like a criticism the first time I heard them but at that moment they felt right to me.  It felt even better repeating them to that Bastard.

 12. The Ogre

    Bastien appeared at my locker the day after we had run against each other in the half-mile practice.  I don¡¯t know what it was about people showing up at my locker.  Pippa had done it on more than one occasion and so had Ben.  I don¡¯t remember ever giving out my locker number but the alternative was that they had been watching me or they had shook someone else down for the information.

    ¡°My friend, I believe you and I may have started off on the wrong step,¡± he began.

    ¡°The wrong foot,¡± I replied.  ¡°The phrase is off on the wrong foot.¡±  His diction might have been perfect but some words and terms obviously didn¡¯t translate well.

    ¡°My apologies, I want only for us to be friends.¡±

    ¡°You said that,¡± I pointed out.  ¡°You addressed me as ¡®my friend¡¯ and now you say you want us to be friends.  Why?¡±

    ¡°We are on the same team.  We attend at the same school.  Is this not what you wish as well?¡±

    No, damn it.  That was not what I wanted.  I had a friend, Ben, and that was enough.  I wanted to tell him I had no vacancies but if he wanted to leave his name and number then I¡¯d get back to him if something opened up.  I also wanted to tell him not to hold his breath.

    ¡°Look Bastien,¡± I started while refraining from directly calling him ¡®bastard¡¯, ¡°I don¡¯t need you to be my friend.  If you¡¯re worried that I need one or think you¡¯ve offended me, you can reassure yourself I¡¯m fine.¡±  I thought that might send him packing.

    ¡°You do not like me very well do you?¡±  I thought he shouldn¡¯t ask a question that he didn¡¯t want an answer to.

    ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡±  I decided to be direct.  ¡°Is this about beating you on the track yesterday?  That was not about not liking you.  That was about racing, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Are you jealous of me my friend?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not jealous and I¡¯m not your friend,¡± I answered.  ¡°You¡¯re just another guy around here.¡±  I gestured my hand to indicate the school.  ¡°And you¡¯re just another guy on the track.  I¡¯m not losing sleep on you wondering why I¡¯m not your friend.¡±

    ¡°Do you lose sleep on wondering why Pippa Bailey is not your girlfriend?¡±

    So that was his game.  He really did want a punch in his perfect face.  I wondered how much a bloody nose would contrast against his jet-black hair.

    ¡°What I am and am not to her is none of your business.  If you want to go up against me on the track then so be it but I¡¯d stay out of my personal business if I were you.  I beat you in the half mile and I can go the distance to beat you here.¡±  Again I gestured to the school.

    ¡°Then Miss Bailey would be fair game?¡±  He looked very smug after saying this.  I was keeping my hands tight into my side.  It was hard to resist the temptation to physically lash out.  I quickly slammed my locker door and started to walk away.  I had only gone a few steps before I turned and decided to reply.

    ¡°You know buddy, there are trophies in competitions but just try referring to Pippa as a trophy to her face.  You might not like her response.¡±  If anyone was going to hit him, I was going to let Pippa do it.  I knew it would have more meaning coming from her.  ¡°Oh, and by the way, the term ¡®buddy¡¯ doesn¡¯t mean friend either.  You¡¯re likely to find you don¡¯t have many of those around here.¡±

    I started to walk away but I just had to add, ¡°and stay away from my god-damn locker.¡±

    After that, the game really did begin.  He went after Pippa in earnest with a purpose I felt was to throw me off.  I tried not to acknowledge them when I saw them together.  He obviously had heard about Pippa and I.  It was no secret.  People had known at the end of the school year we were a couple even if we weren¡¯t big on public displays of affection.  I couldn¡¯t help wondering though how much Pippa had told him.  Did he know her other secrets?  I tried to put that out of my head or it would have been spinning again with those ¡®if onlys.¡¯

    On the track, I showed Bastien no mercy in the distance runs.  I got to the point where I¡¯d even leave Ben behind.  I needed the win.  I knew the thought of Bastien and Pippa together was getting to me and I had to channel it into my running.

    One of the events in the West End tournament was the Tri-Mile run.  It didn¡¯t mean we were running a single three-mile race but rather there was an elimination challenge of three one-mile runs.  One contender from each school would compete in a one-mile race, or four laps around the quarter-mile track, and the winner from each would face up in a fourth race.  It was possible that one school could have winners in all three individual races and then face off against their own teammates in the final.

    Ben, Bastien, and I were selected from our school to compete in the Tri-Mile runs.  Ben and I were fairly good in the distance runs and surprisingly Bastien had been improving his endurance.  I was sure he wanted to best me and prove he was the better man as he was already making time with my girl.

    Pippa had become a staple at practices.  She was there every day to cheer on Bastien and cheered even louder after I had beaten him by shouting ¡°you¡¯ll get him next time¡± or ¡°you almost got him that time.¡±  I wanted to remind her there was no almost in running.  You won or you lost.  Even coming in second was not winning.

    Around the school, it seemed true that I was losing out against Bastien when it came to Pippa.  She didn¡¯t even glance my way anymore in the one class we did share.  I had been determined to find a way to get back in her good graces but she seemed to be moving further and further away from me.

    One morning she was at my locker again.  I gave it serious thought at that moment to request a locker change or to begin carrying everything with me and give up my locker altogether.

    ¡°Jeff, can we talk?¡± she asked with no introduction to why she was even there.

    ¡°Are we talking now?¡± I responded.  I guess my hurt was showing.

    ¡°Listen, despite whatever¡¯s going on between us¡­¡±

    ¡°You mean whatever¡¯s not going on between us,¡± I said cutting her off.

    I thought Pippa might walk away.  She crossed her arms but she stood firm.

    ¡°Jeff, I¡¯m trying to talk to you.  At least hear what I have to say.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±  I crossed my arms and mirrored her stance.

    ¡°I started to say that despite whatever is not going on between us, I always thought you were a decent person.  Why have you been so mean to Bastien?¡±

    Oh, sister, I thought, you just asked a loaded question.  I had a number of reasons I could have given her at that moment but I didn¡¯t think I needed to justify my hatred of him to her.  Instead, I chose to answer her question with one of my own.

    ¡°Tell me something, Pippa, why do you care so much about a phony like that?

    I expected her to react or to walk away but she stayed where she was and remained calm and collected.

    ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t know he¡¯s a phony, Jeff?¡±  No one was giving answers.  We were just answering each other with more inquiries.  ¡°It¡¯s better to know what someone is and work on changing it than to accept someone as honest and then be disappointed by them later on.¡±

    This was where I wanted to slam my locker and walk away like I did with Bastien before.  Pippa was obviously still wearing her hurt too.

    ¡°Listen, Pippa, there¡¯s really only one reason why I don¡¯t like the guy and that¡¯s because you do.  I still love you.  I haven¡¯t stopped.  If you¡¯re with Bastien now then that¡¯s your business but don¡¯t expect me to be happy about it or be happy for you.¡±  That¡¯s when I decided to turn and make my exit.

    ¡°You¡¯re an ogre!¡± I heard her exclaim.

    I kept on walking.

    A few days after my exchange with Pippa, I had to present something I had written for presentation in our Creative Writing class.  We had been studying a unit on fables and fairy tales and were required to write something in that genre.  I had been inspired by Pippa¡¯s parting words.

    I saw the assignment as an opportunity to pour my heart into my writing.  I wasn¡¯t writing it for Pippa but rather as a showcase as to how I felt.  My story was ¡°How To Love An Ogre.¡±

    I had written the story in the first person narrative because I knew that no one better could represent the Ogre than himself.  The story was about a princess who was tired of the demands of royal life and the expectations of her royal parents.  She was tired of unlikely suitors or the possibility of arranged marriages.  The princess used some of her wealth to have a tower built and she willingly locked herself away from everybody and everything.  I felt this was unique because most princesses were locked away against their will.

    The princess had sought out the ogre to guard the tower against anyone seeking entry.  His responsibilities did not include keeping the princess inside.  The princess could come and go as she pleased but when she was inside, the Ogre kept everyone else out.  In time, the Ogre came to love the princess for who she was and what she wanted.  Above all else, he was a friend to the princess who had no other designs on her.

    In my story, the Ogre spoke about how lovely the princess was and how he had loved her the first time he saw her but was happy just to be near her.  Over the years, the friendship grew between the Ogre and the princess and the Ogre felt being her friend was enough even though he secretly loved her.  He knew he was only an Ogre and probably didn¡¯t deserve better.  Being near the princess was sufficient for the Ogre.

    In the end, the princess finally found true love and married.  The Ogre did not become a prince nor did he become handsome by any magic.  He remained an Ogre and his true beauty was inside.  When the princess had a daughter, she eventually sought out the Ogre and introduced the Ogre as the princess¡¯s best friend.  In time, the princess¡¯s daughter came to love the Ogre as her friend as well.  It was enough for the Ogre.

    After I read the story aloud there was a round of applause from everyone in the class.  Pippa was staring at me and I could see tears on her cheeks.  After class, she approached me.

    ¡°That was beautiful, Pink.¡±

    I was Pink again.  I had moved the needle.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said back to her.  I didn¡¯t want to push my luck by asking about the Pink designation.

    ¡°Can I walk with you after school?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said hesitantly.  There was hope in my heart and I tried not to relay it in my voice.  Was this how our relationship was going to restart?  I knew there was power in words but I had never thought it could move mountains.  Hadn¡¯t she been rock-hard against me in our last confrontation?

    ¡°Good, I¡¯ll see you out front, later.¡±  She gave me a little wave and turned.

    I couldn¡¯t wait until the end of day.  Maybe she was on the verge of forgiving me.  Maybe she was going to dump that bastard and come back to me. I should have guessed what was coming.

    Pippa found me after the last bell rang.  We left the school and I turned left and she turned right.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± I asked.  ¡°I thought you wanted me to walk you home?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m walking you home,¡± Pippa responded.

    ¡°I thought you had a curfew?¡±

    ¡°Not since before my Birthday.  I think mom trusts me a little more now after everything that¡¯s happened.¡±

    But nothing had happened.  I had never been revealed to her mother as Steve Wilson or Pink or Jeff Carter.  Ours had been a private break-up before her mother even discovered we had been together.

    Pippa hooked her arm in mine and started to pull me in the opposite direction of her way home.  ¡°Lead the way, Pink.  I have no idea where we¡¯re going.¡±  Neither did I.  She was clearly in charge.

    ¡°You liked my story?¡±  I thought that was a safe place to start.

    ¡°Like I said, Pink, it was beautiful.  I¡¯m sorry I called you an ogre.  I said I never wanted to hurt you again and I guess I did.¡±

    ¡°We both did,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about that Pink.  I want to talk to you about Bastien.¡±

    I tensed up.  Why did we need to talk about him?  I thought this was about us.

    ¡°What about Bastien?¡± I asked with caution.

    ¡°I want you to be nice to him.¡±

    I stopped and stared at her.  She couldn¡¯t be serious.  I thought we had had this out.  I didn¡¯t like the guy.

    ¡°Pink,¡± she continued, ¡°I know you don¡¯t like him.  I¡¯ve heard you and Ben refer to him as ¡®that bastard¡¯.  I want you to know why I like him.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    I wanted to unhook my arm but it was the only touch we had shared in over a month.  I wasn¡¯t about to let her go.  I started to walk again and I was prepared to drag her along if she didn¡¯t move her feet with mine.

    ¡°Go ahead, I¡¯m listening.¡±  I was aware I was not sounding sincere.

    ¡°You said he was a phony.  I told you I knew that already.  The thing you don¡¯t know about Bastien is that he¡¯s capable of being sincere and caring and honest.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m not?¡±  I had stopped walking again.  This time Pippa started forward and pulled on me.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about you or about me, Pink.  Bastien¡¯s only here for the school year.  I know he¡¯ll be gone by next summer.  Until then, I think I want to be with him.¡±

    Shades of ¡®Grease.¡¯  Now Pippa was the John Travolta character committing to a limited-time romance because she knew there would be no strings attached at the end.  I didn¡¯t think she was capable of that role reversal.

    ¡°Does he know all of your secrets?¡±  I had to ask that question.  If he had that same intimacy with her then we truly were finished.

    ¡°No, he doesn¡¯t.  That¡¯s why I want to be with him.  I¡¯ve carried my secret around for a long time now and you were the only boy I told and look how that turned out.  I can just be myself with him.  He gets to see Pippa Bailey as a girl with no baggage.  I can just be me.¡±

    ¡°And when he¡¯s gone?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Well, by then, maybe I¡¯ll have become so used to being me, the way I want to be, then it¡¯ll be second nature to me.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°And then, Pink, I find my next dream.¡±

    ¡°This is where I get off,¡± I responded.

    ¡°Hunh?¡± she asked puzzlingly.

    We had been walking and talking and finally, we were standing in the street outside of my house.  Ours was a bi-level home.  It was a typical one-storey house and the front door opened onto a landing with stairs that led both up to the main floor and down to the basement.   My parents had a bedroom on the main level at the back of the house and both Rod and I had bedrooms in the basement at the front.  Our windows were at ground level and faced the street.

    ¡°This is where I live.¡±  I pointed to the window on the right.  ¡°That¡¯s my bedroom there.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± Pippa observed.  ¡°But what about what I said about Bastien and I?¡±

    I wanted to tell her that her current dream was a nightmare keeping me up at night.  The thought of any relationship between her and Bastien haunted me to no end.  The thought of any relationship with Pippa that didn¡¯t include me was even worse.

    ¡°That¡¯s your dream, Pippa.¡±  I didn¡¯t feel like adding the hokey bit about her following that dream wherever that dream may lead.  My comment about ¡®this is where I get off¡¯ was going to have to be the answer for our relationship as well.

    ¡°I know you told me that you still love me Pink and I still love you.  But we can¡¯t be together.  You¡¯re part of everything I¡¯m trying to move on from.  You don¡¯t have to be happy for me but you¡¯re a nice guy and I was hoping you could move on too.¡±

    Oh, the nice guy routine.  That¡¯s exactly what every hopeful love-struck teen does not want to hear.  I had to be quick and think of something that would impress her to see me how she once viewed me.  I needed an opportunity that would drive Bastien away and bring Pippa and I back together.

    ¡°Okay, Pippa, I¡¯ll make you a deal.  If Bastien can somehow get to the finals in the Tri-Mile race and if I get to the final and if we run against each other and if he beats me, and those are a lot of ifs, I¡¯ll bow out gracefully.¡±

    ¡°And if you win or you both lose, Pink?¡±

    ¡°Then forget about me forgetting about you.¡±  I wanted my own terms.

    ¡°But Pink, this is about moving on.  I don¡¯t want to be with you anymore.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I replied.  ¡°But that¡¯s your dream and I¡¯ve got my own that includes you and I gotta follow that dream to find the love I need.¡±  I guess I couldn¡¯t resist the hokey urge after all.

    ¡°Have fun trying,¡± she said and turned and walked away.

    ¡°Oh, I will!¡± I shouted after her.

    The following week was the West End tournament and we were the host school that year.  Practices had been intense leading up to the event.  Ben and I put extra hours into our training for the Tri-Mile.  We would meet up on weekends and in the evenings.  Ben and I were very strong in the distance running.  I was glad we would each get separate chances to prove ourselves in the mile run.  The only thing I was not enthused about was the possibility of running against Ben in the final.  I had been outpacing him in some of the practices but I wasn¡¯t sure if I could beat him when it came to a head-to-head.  I was sure he had learned well and was holding back on something he would release in the competition.

    Bastien continued to improve as well.  Sometimes Ben and I would go to the track in the evening and would encounter him running laps.  He wasn¡¯t always alone.  Sometimes Pippa was running along with him.  That nightmare I had been experiencing was taking on more dangerous visions.  I had not seen her run since the Harrier.  She certainly had never offered to run with me.  On those occasions, Ben and I would wait off at a distance until they were finished before we would take to the track.

    Pippa obviously wanted her dream to be with Bastien so much that she was prepared to put the effort into training him.  That only fueled my hatred for that Bastard more and I was damn sure not going to let go of my dream.

    I started a game of intimidation by mixing my on-field running with doing laps around Pippa¡¯s neighbourhood.  I would pass by her house, loop around adjoining streets and jog past her house three or four times before heading off home.

    Pippa took up the challenge and soon after I would spot her with Bastien as they included going down my street as part of their training routine.  She looked good in jogging shorts but the sight of Bastien with her took away from that vision.

    The day of the West End was another warm fall day.  I wasn¡¯t sure who scheduled the dates for these events but they obviously consulted some reliable weather almanac.  The track itself had been well groomed and was sporting new chalk lines for all of the events.

    Our school did better in the West End events than we had in the All-City.  Collegiate was not one of the schools competing.  In addition to our school was the aforementioned Bayside as well as Centennial Secondary.  Our athletes were ready and even though the Park brothers were off in Toronto opposing each other, we still had a talented roster.

    Many of our new talents finished first and second in their events.  Bastien swept in the short-track events in which he participated.  He had the speed and, thanks to Pippa¡¯s coaching, he had developed the endurance.  He grinned stupidly after every win and I was looking forward to my opportunity to wipe that stupid grin off his face.  I also wanted to show Pippa I wasn¡¯t done yet when it came to her.  She had said she still loved me.  That was an opening I was prepared to exploit.

    I had not told Ben about the deal between Pippa and I.  His relationship with Sandra put him in a difficult position.  His girlfriend had been clear with him that the topic of Pippa was off-limits.  Ben would not be asked by either camp to solicit information to be passed on.  I wasn¡¯t even sure the deal I thought I had made was binding by either side.  Pippa hadn¡¯t exactly agreed.  She had only asked me what the outcome would be if neither Bastien nor I won the Tri-Mile or if I was the victor.  I was the one who dictated my intention if I was the winner.  I only assumed with the effort Pippa had put into Bastien¡¯s training that she would hold me to the other part of the deal if Bastien bested me.

    The day of the tournament, resplendent in our blue jerseys, I thought I should take Ben into my confidence.  Bastien had been successful in the short track sprints and Ben had become suspicious when Bastien had dropped out of the half-mile race.  I had suspected that Pippa had advised him to excuse himself and to concentrate on the longer Tri-Mile.

    There were only two semi-contests for the half-mile and these, like the preliminaries for the Tri-Mile, had been spaced throughout the day.  I had run my half-mile leg earlier on and had been triumphant.  Bastien and Ben and one competitor each from the other two schools had been scheduled to pair off in their heat.  At the last minute, Bastien had been scratched from the race.  Ben and an athlete from Bayside took first and second respectively.  The final in the half-mile would consist of Ben, myself, the Bayside runner from Ben¡¯s race, and the Centennial runner who had placed second behind me.

    Ben approached me after his heat.  He hardly looked winded and I wondered what competing against him in the half-mile would be like or if we both managed to get into the finals of the Tri-Mile.

    ¡°What do you think that was all about?¡± Ben asked me.

    ¡°What was that all about?¡± I answered innocently.

    ¡°You know damn well what.  Bastien drops out of the half-mile and you don¡¯t blink an eye.  You know something, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I decided to tell him what I suspected and how it tied into my deal with Pippa.

    ¡°And where do I fit into all of this?¡± he asked after I had told him everything.  ¡°What if I beat both of you?¡±

    ¡°I have a contingency for that.  I expect that you¡¯ll give us both a challenge.  If you win, you win.  May the best man win and all that, you know.¡±

    ¡°But you want to be the best man, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Ben, I¡¯m not going to lie to you, I want to beat that bastard more than anything.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t get you Pippa back.  It sounds like even if you do win against Bastien then you¡¯ve got an uphill battle with her.¡±

    ¡°Let me worry about that.  You just run as well as you always do.  This doesn¡¯t really concern you.¡±  I wasn¡¯t trying to be dismissive of Ben but the deal I had proposed didn¡¯t really include Ben.  If I had to lose to Ben it would be better than losing to the alternative.

    ¡°The hell it doesn¡¯t!¡± he exclaimed.  ¡°You¡¯re my friend and I¡¯m dating Pippa¡¯s cousin.  I¡¯m going to get it from all sides.¡±

    ¡°Not from me you¡¯re not.  I¡¯m only asking you to run your race and maybe one other little favour.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ben asked with skepticism.

    ¡°Between the pair of us, let¡¯s beat that Bastard!¡±

    I didn¡¯t know if I had allayed any of Ben¡¯s concerns.  I knew he wouldn¡¯t throw his race.  He wanted to win the Tri-Mile for himself and I was sure he¡¯d provide great competition to both Bastien and I.

    Ben and I squared off in the half-mile final and I could tell he was in it to win.  I didn¡¯t really care.  I had yet to run my leg of the Tri-Mile and I had to save something for that race.  I gave it my all and if Ben did beat me out at the finish he was sure he had won it squarely.  For my part, I wasn¡¯t sure he hadn¡¯t.

    Ben had run his Tri-Mile preliminary earlier in the day and had finished easily.  Bastien, after dropping out of the half-mile had a tough go of it in his Tri-Mile heat.  Bastien only managed to just beat out his Centennial opponent to move on to the final.  It was stacking up to be a first for the Tri-Mile with all three semi-finalists possibly coming from the same school.  It only hinged on me running away with the lead in my contest.

    Both of the athletes in my leg of the Tri-Mile had not competed in anything else throughout the day.  They were fresh and they looked lean and ready to compete.  Lined up against them at the start I could see both of them on either side of me ready to put me through my paces.  After hearing the starting gun I fell in line behind both as they took an early lead.

    You have a lot of time to reflect when you¡¯re running four quarter-mile laps.  Although I was concerned with the other athletes racing against me, I was also consumed with hatred for Bastien and a singular goal to get to the final and put him in his place.  I had to win my race because my single purpose was that Bastien¡¯s place would not be at Pippa¡¯s side.

    I held the third spot for the first two laps before I began to challenge my opponents.  This was more than a race to me.  My future with Pippa depended on me not losing.  The competition against Bastien for my girl depended on me finishing in first.  I didn¡¯t care about the other racers.  Second and third were the only options I was prepared to leave for them.  For me, coming in second was not winning.

    I took the lead in the fourth and final lap and easily breezed in for the win.  I was elated.  Bastien, Ben, and I would meet up later against each other.  As I saw it, there could only be one outcome and that was with me being victorious.

    I had watched Bastien off-field whenever he had completed a race.  Pippa was there.  Students had been given the chance to be excused from classes if they attended the tournament to cheer on their home school.  It wasn¡¯t mandatory and there were some who didn¡¯t attend in the school or at the track.  That wasn¡¯t Pippa.  She was there in Bastien¡¯s corner like a prizefighter¡¯s manager.  I couldn¡¯t bear to watch.

    My thoughts of Pippa were ever-present throughout the day.  How could she be with a guy like that?  I had been asking myself that question for many weeks.  I hadn¡¯t liked the answers she had given.  She said he was capable of being sincere and caring and honest.  She said it was better to know what someone is and work on changing it.  She said she could be herself with him; a girl with no baggage.  She said I was part of everything she was trying to move on from and I didn¡¯t have to be happy for her but hoped I could move on too.  She also said she still loved me.  I thought if she could say that to me while being with another guy, then brother, that¡¯s when I go to work with a clear conscience.

    The time for the Tri-Mile race finally came.  My head was swirling with all those answers from Pippa that didn¡¯t add up to me.  I was ready for the race but I was having a hard time clearing my mind.

    ¡°Gentlemen, it is an honour to have you as my competitors,¡± Bastien said as he, Ben and I took the starting positions.  That Bastard and his near-perfect grammar was all smiles.  I was harbouring such hatred for him that I saw his statement not as a compliment but as a challenge.  I think Ben might have said something complimentary back to him but I was quiet and focused on the race ahead.

    There was one false start as I bolted ahead a split-second before the starter¡¯s pistol.  We three had to line up again and I was given a caution.  I had to settle down my mind.  I was so anxious to get ahead and stay there.  I couldn¡¯t give Bastien an inch.

    The next start was successful and we were away down the track.  I had found a moment of calm before the second start and tried to focus on all of the rules of running.  I had to pace myself.  I had to leave a reserve for the last lap.  To hell, with all of that, I thought.  I had to beat Bastien.  I had to show Pippa up in her little game.  She would be mine again.

    We all kept pace with each for the first two laps.  Ben and Bastien were on either side of me so I could easily see both of them.  Bastien began to pull ahead in the third lap and Ben and I kept pace with each other.  We had seen this before and knew that the final lap was where we¡¯d make our move.

    On that third lap, I kept Bastien in my sights and focussed on not losing any further ground.  I had lost so much ground to him already since he had arrived at our school.  I had lost my girl to him.  Pippa was my girl.

    Moving into the fourth and final lap I began to reflect on everything.  It all came pouring in.  Pippa had said she still loved me.  I had written the Ogre story and she had called me ¡®Pink¡¯ again.  Then I remembered I had only written that story because she had called me an Ogre.  The Ogre in my fairy tale was sensitive and did what the Princess asked and he continued to love her even though he knew she would never be his.  Then it hit me, I was the Ogre in my own story.

    I had been referring to Pippa as my girl.  I had been determined to upset her plans with Bastien for my own gain.  She was the prize to be won.  That was all wrong.  Hadn¡¯t I told Bastien that there are trophies in competitions but he shouldn¡¯t try referring to Pippa as one?  I had forgotten my own words.

    I began to realize maybe it wasn¡¯t Bastien who should be the focus of my anger.  I should have been angry with myself.  I hadn¡¯t been thinking clearly at all.   Ever since I had met Pippa I had only focussed on how to be near her and eventually make her mine.  I had been patient and then thankful and then stupid.  After our split, I had transformed into a consumed individual who had lost sight of living my own life.  Pippa had been my life and here I was racing to stop her from getting on with hers.  I couldn¡¯t separate out whether I had done this to myself or it had all been Pippa¡¯s fault.

    While this all was playing out in my head, my body had instinctively done its job and I had caught up with Bastien.  Ben was there alongside of us.  I snapped out of my reverie and focussed on not winning.  It had become clear to me that I had to follow through with one thing I had told Pippa when we last met.  This was where I got off.

    I began to ease my speed but not overtly.  I had pulled ahead but then I slowed and pulled back until I was even with Ben and Bastien.  Ben gave me a look and I shook my head ever so slightly from side to side.  The gesture was not lost on Ben.  He sped up and took the lead only enough to allow Bastien to move ahead in time with Ben¡¯s steps.  Around the last corner, I made another effort to regain the lead so it wouldn¡¯t look like I was deliberately trying to lose.  Ben and Bastien and I kept up a back-and-forth in the home stretch but we allowed Bastien to cross the finish ahead of us.  I knew I was going to owe Ben an explanation.

    There was suddenly a throng around Bastien with Pippa in the center with him.  Ben and I walked around a little bit and kept throwing glances at each other.  How was I going to tell Ben I had given up?  It was bad enough that I had let Bastien win but I had communicated silently to Ben that I wanted him to do the same.

    My hatred for Bastien had abated.  It wasn¡¯t his fault I felt that way.  I had played into the old jealousy game.  Bastien and I were both pawns.  Wrongly, I began to think Pippa was the reason for all of this.  I knew I had been stupid and loved her blindly and the one solid ¡®if only¡¯ that ran through my mind was ¡®if only¡¯ I hadn¡¯t loved her the first time I saw her.

    Everything swelled up inside me and I could only see my story with Pippa was finished.  I saw an opening in the crowd around her and Bastien and I approached them.  I was empty and angry all at the same time.  I blamed Pippa.  I had proposed the agreement and now she had what she wanted.  I wasn¡¯t prepared to let her off that easy.

    ¡°Is that the deal you wanted or should I have thrown in my shirt?¡± I asked angrily.  In a final gesture to our finished relationship, I whipped off my jersey, threw it at her feet, and walked away.

 13. The Girl Who Grieved

    After the West End tournament, I quit track.  I had given it enough thought to know I was finished with running.  The sport had become tainted to me.  I never thought my own story would include two track tournaments where I first won Pippa and then the other where I lost her for good.  The truth was I hadn¡¯t lost, I had given up.

    I began to think about Pippa and her Carlotta again.  Was this Pippa with Bastien a new incarnation of that character she sometimes exhibited after we saw Hitchcock¡¯s ¡®Vertigo¡¯?  In that movie, Jimmy Stewart¡¯s character of Scottie believes he¡¯s lost his girl forever as a result of Carlotta possessing Kim Novak¡¯s character of Madeleine. Scottie breaks down, becomes clinically depressed and is sent to a sanatorium, almost catatonic. Following his release, Scottie frequents the places that he and Madeleine had visited, often imagining he saw her.

    I was committed to not suffering Scottie¡¯s fate.  I had given into that depression after Pippa and I first split up.  Pippa had moved on with Bastien and she had said she wanted me to move on.  Quitting track was me moving on.

    Everything I knew had been caught up in running and not all of it was forthright.  I had run the Harrier at Pippa¡¯s invitation.  She had only asked me to run because she was sizing me up for a meeting with her at the avocado house.  It had been a form of deception.  I had only joined the track team at first because Coach Russell had invited me and I had wanted to say no and then decided I needed to show up for tryouts because he thought I wouldn¡¯t.  That was another instance of where I had not been truthful about my motivation.

    I had taken running on as a sort of therapy to get me through my frustrations with Pippa before and after our breakup.  That had been the only positive aspect.  I had sullied it again when I became Steve Wilson after meeting Pippa¡¯s mother while running past her house.  I had also used running as a taunt when I ran through Pippa¡¯s neighbourhood while I was training for the Tri-Mile event.  I had thought running was the only relationship I had left that I understood but I¡¯d managed to tarnish that too.

    Deliberately losing the race against Bastien was the tipping point in my decision to give up track.  I hadn¡¯t been honest about my reasons for running the Tri-Mile and not competing for the sport of it marred any respect I had for myself as a runner.

    Ben understood everything.  He had seen how I had been conflicted about wanting to beat Bastien for all the wrong reasons.  After the race, I explained the only way I could win was by losing.  I admitted I had become the villain in the piece while I had been painting Bastien with such evil broad strokes that even Ben had begun to believe my hatred

    had been well-founded.

    Coach had taken my quitting better than I had expected.  Ben had retrieved my jersey after I had thrown it down in front of Pippa.  He gave it back to me and the next day I went to Mr. Russell¡¯s office to turn it in.

    ¡°Are you sure about this Carter?  You¡¯re one of the best runners we have.  Do you want to think on it some more?¡±

    ¡°No Mr. Russell, I don¡¯t,¡± I replied.  ¡°I¡¯ve been running for all of the wrong reasons.  I need to clear my head and focus on other things.¡±

    ¡°Things like that girl?¡± Mr. Russell asked.

    ¡°Anything but that girl, sir.  I¡¯m not running that race anymore.  The race never seems to end and there are way too many competitors.¡±

    Mr. Russell looked confused but took the jersey I offered.

    ¡°The opportunity will always be there if you want to come back.¡±

    ¡°I know that.  I just need to get myself on the right track for a while.¡±  I hoped he would excuse the pun.

    The image of me as a runner was not one I could easily shake.  Walking by the display cases in the main lobby I could see the Long Relay trophy from that past spring.  It was strange to stop and look at it because there was always my reflection in the glass reminding me of how things had fallen apart only months after being triumphant at the All City.

    I could not give in to feeling sorry for myself.  I had felt that way after Pippa had dumped me that night in her garage and it had spiralled into determined hatred which had become my sole obsession.  I had to move on.  That¡¯s what Pippa wanted from me and that¡¯s what I was prepared to do.

    I had been extremely hard on Pippa with the jersey incident and my harsh words.  I wished I could take them back or somehow let her know I was sorry.  I chose not to obsess over that either.  I had to put everything behind me and find some way to back to the middle.

    School moved on and so did I.  Pippa didn¡¯t approach me and I had no reason to engage with Bastien.  He had been triumphant in the Tri-Mile and I let him have his glory whether he had earned it fairly or not.  As expected, the rank of female followers swelled initially after his win but diminished after it was clear Pippa was not prepared to make any room at Bastien¡¯s side.

    I focussed on my studies and being a better me.  I began to write more and none of my stories had princesses or ogres or related in any way to my previous relationship.  My mind began to clear and I stopped reflecting on everything that had come before.  Ben was still my friend and I had a school year to finish and some thoughts to be given to what came next.

    The first thing I did was to take back my name.  I had been Jeff Carter for a long time before I had met Pippa.  Then I had become Pink and then Steve Wilson.  Somehow the name Jeff Carter had taken on a negative connotation when Pippa began to use it again after our split.  My own name cut through me whenever she had addressed me by it.  I had been trying hard to get her to call me Pink again as if that nickname was a badge of honour.  It¡¯s funny how my full name was even used to express disappointment, anger, or frustration by my parents.  I was only addressed as Jeff Carter or Jeffrey Allen Carter whenever I needed to be disciplined.  I had also bristled at the use of my full name when I had been first called to Mr. Russell¡¯s office after running the Harrier and I thought I was in some kind of trouble.  It was about time I started recognizing my name as something other than a punishment.

    High school is a tough place to be when you¡¯re trying to rebuild yourself.  I recalled how it had been a tough place to be just starting out.  I was in grade twelve and I could reflect back on the first two years as uneventful.  I had been fine with uneventful.  I had been fine with the middle.  I didn¡¯t have a lot of friends and certainly not anyone I felt extremely close to.  I didn¡¯t realize what I had been missing until my third year and everything that had happened with Pippa.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever been in love before Pippa and I don¡¯t remember I¡¯d even had any crushes before her. Girls were just girls when I was in elementary school and I could have cared less about them.  Some of them had moved on to other schools and some continued on to my high school.  The ones who moved on with me were of no interest.  If I hadn¡¯t given them due attention in the early years then I didn¡¯t think they were worthy of any further consideration.  There was also a new crop of females in grades nine and ten whom I had never seen before.  These too failed to pique my interest.

    When Pippa came along I didn¡¯t know what hit me.  Sure she was new to the school but there had been others.  There had been other friendly girls and other pretty girls but she was different.  I didn¡¯t know what it was at that time but I¡¯ve continued to stress how I loved her the first time I saw her.  In our story that was important.  It wasn¡¯t like she had continued to impress me over a period of time and then I began to have feelings for her.  It was something more than that.  It had been more than love at first sight.  It might be cliche to say she was the whole package or the real deal but those are the words that came to my mind.

    Pippa wasn¡¯t just someone new.  I could describe her looks or her voice or her self-confidence but it was something else on top of those traits.  I didn¡¯t know her darker history before we met but that might have been part of it.  She had come to our school for a new start and she had been trying to be a new person.  I think I fell in love with the person she was obviously trying not to be.  Here had been this girl who had breezed into our school and my life and immediately she was trying to be all things to all people.  That might not make entire sense but it was the best way I could describe her.  Right from the beginning I was drawn to this new Pippa but I also wanted to know where she came from and who she¡¯d been before.  To me, she had been a puzzle I needed to solve.

    Later on, after I began to experience the layers to Pippa, I was still trying to figure her out.  She was this new girl at my school whom I loved but she was also this new girl she was trying to be.  Sometimes her new persona was Carlotta and those were the times when I felt she was the most honest with me and with herself.  Now she was moving away from that.  She was with Bastien and pretending to be her old self until it stuck.  I¡¯m not sure I understood it all but that was the story she told me and it was time I got on with my own narrative again.

    The fall advanced into winter and I kept moving forward.  Ben and I spent time together when he wasn¡¯t with Sandra.  I kept my bargain of not probing him for information on Pippa or her new relationship.  For his part, Ben would deliberately steer away from anything he thought might remind me of my former relationship.  We talked of running but I didn¡¯t run with him.  He encouraged me to take it up again but he also knew how I had associated a number of bad memories with that activity.

    Winter gave me an excuse not to even think about running.  Throughout the fall I had considered just running for myself but I couldn¡¯t find the motivation.  Pippa had been all of my motivation before but I remembered a time when practicing for the long relay had been my primary focus and I had been happy.  I had only been friends with Pippa at that point and I had been excited to compete.  Ben and I had become fast friends and we both had been pleased when we were chosen to participate in the All City.  That was the pleasure I wanted again out of running but I wasn¡¯t ready.  Running hadn¡¯t been me when I had first started at our school and, like Pippa, I was trying to get back to the person I had been before.  If running came back into my life then it would have to be for me and not because I was running out any frustrations over a girl.

    Running eventually did come back to me the following spring and so did Pippa.  It is an easier and gentler tale to tell about getting back into running than describing the circumstances of Pippa¡¯s return.

    The new year of 1979 had approached quietly while I had been learning to be me again.  Classes had ended for the Christmas break and I was looking to a long two weeks of not having to see Pippa every day.  We only had the one class, in which she paid me no attention, but I couldn¡¯t help seeing her around the school and sometimes in the company of Bastien.  I often wondered how their relationship was progressing.  I also wondered if she could really give him up when he finally left at the end of the school year.

    In January the long relay trophy went to Collegiate for the rest of the school year as per the agreement between coaches.  I started a new term of subjects and Pippa was in three of my four classes.  It was getting harder and harder not to see her as often.  She deliberately sat as far away from me as possible but then that¡¯s what I had been prepared to do if it meant moving on from her.

    In January, my brother Rod moved out.  He and Rhonda had found a place together.  My parents weren¡¯t happy about it but he was working full-time while she was attending college.  She was supplementing her income with weekend evening work at the Texaco.  I visited their apartment once.  It was a shit-hole.  Well, the building was a shit-hole on the outside but there had been a fresh coat of paint in their apartment.  It still smelled like paint when I went there.  All in all, they were happy together.

    After Rod left, I immediately took over his bedroom because it was larger.  Mine had been closer to the stairs and I could hear people either going up the stairs as they came in or coming down the stairs to the basement.  Rod hadn¡¯t left much behind so I moved it all into my old room.  This included some exercise equipment that had been tucked away at the back of his closet.  I hadn¡¯t known he¡¯d gone through an exercise phase.  More likely it had been a fad that passed and had been indulged by my parents.

    I wasn¡¯t interested in the various barbell weights but a mini exercise machine caught my eye.  It was a small standalone unit that had stirrups on either side for your feet.  There was even a mechanism that you could adjust for tension.  All I had to do was sit on a chair or the edge of the bed and hook in my feet and pedal away.  I thought this was useful to keep my legs in training during the cold or rainy months.

    The pedalling device was how running gradually came back to me.  I set myself a goal of cycling my legs each evening for about thirty minutes and gradually eased that up to an hour of exercise.  I found I could read or do homework at the same time and get a good workout without having to venture out into inclement weather.

    March came in like a lamb.  Usually, it was the other way around with that month pouncing in on us like a lion but that early March brought some reasonably warm temperatures.  After the initial melting of the winter snows, the pavements began to dry and I thought again about running.  All of the exercise I had put in over the previous two months had made my legs good and strong.  I was itching to get outside and see if I still had the stamina for jogging.

    I waited until a warm dry Saturday and I started out just by walking around my neighbourhood.  I knew the streets well and I wanted to scope out a good route before testing out my legs again in a sport I had abandoned in the fall.  I had walked probably about thirty minutes away from my home before I decided to run back.  I didn¡¯t want to attempt a round trip yet until I was sure my motivation was correct.  I had been focussing on the exercise and found that my mind no longer dwelled on all of the bad associations I had once had with running.

    My first run was normal enough but I found my legs were ready to move.  I had been a distance and endurance runner and now I found I had developed speed.  I recorded my time that day in a notebook so I could track my progress.  On subsequent similar runs, I found my time continued to improve.  I would set a personal best and then I would have to scratch it out in my journal and record a new one.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    I was happy running had come back to me or I had come back to running.  I didn¡¯t share this information with Ben.  He was still on the track team and outdoor practices had started again.  I wasn¡¯t in it for the competition and I wasn¡¯t using it to substitute for anything else in my life.  There were no frustrations to be worked out so I ran just to run and I ran to feel like myself again.

    My mind was clearer than ever.  I had focussed on Pippa for so long it was difficult to know when I had stopped thinking about her.  She was still there but it was in the background.  I no longer tried to catch glimpses of her or even wondered if she was trying to do the same with me.

    When I did see her, I focused on feeling nothing when it came to her.  If there was going to be a girl in my life sometime in the future then I¡¯d be ready.  I wasn¡¯t going to be obsessed with anyone unless she was mutually obsessed with me.  As far as I was concerned my future could hold off on that for a while.  I had been there and I had done that.  I had the remainder of the school year to go and another ahead of me.  That was going to be my focus.  I would also have to find time to consider what I would do after high school.  That could wait a little bit but I wasn¡¯t going to let anything get in the way of those plans again.

    I had taken to using the rear entrance of the school so I would avoid having to see Pippa.  I could take a side street and still get home or to school with hardly any extra time.  In early March, due to the reasonably warm weather, I had started to see Roger riding his motorcycle around the school.  I didn¡¯t know what was happening with him because I was no longer in the loop and had deliberately cut myself off from information relating to Pippa or her family.  I had only seen Roger that one time he had first shown up with his motorcycle and I had become jealous when he rode off with Pippa.  Roger was obviously back again at the school for Pippa but he had never met me officially so we had no cause to interact.

    At this juncture, I need to document Pippa¡¯s return to me.  I have hinted that it is not an easy or gentle aspect of her story.  There are aspects of it today that seem unreal.  We were separate persons living separate stories which had diverged from one another.  I had not expected a new chapter in our relationship.

    It was a Saturday morning in mid-March and I was out for a run.  This had become my routine on weekends.  Winter had felt long and getting back out on the streets and exercising had become important to me.  It gave me a chance to reflect on anything from the previous week and to prepare for the upcoming days.

    I was gone from home about an hour before I returned.  I was immediately met by mother at the front door.

    ¡°That friend, of yours, Ben, has called every ten minutes.  He wouldn¡¯t leave a message.  He insisted that I have you return his call as soon as you got back.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Mom, thanks.¡±  I didn¡¯t know what was so immediate with Ben.  Sometimes we¡¯d talk on the weekend but more often we left our conversations for when we¡¯d see each other at school.

    I called up Ben and could immediately hear the anxiety in his voice.

    ¡°Where have you been, Jeff?  I¡¯ve been calling for an hour.¡±  His voice was quivering and I could sense something troubling.

    ¡°I was out.¡±  I didn¡¯t want to share with him I was out running.  I had yet to tell him I was dabbling in the sport again.

    ¡°Listen, this is going to be rough, Roger¡¯s been killed.¡±

    ¡°What? How?¡±  My mind was flooded with the same panic I had detected in Ben.

    ¡°Last night, an accident with his motorcycle.¡±

    ¡°I just saw him yesterday.  He was riding his bike around the school.  He must have¡­wait how¡¯s Pippa?¡±  My thoughts were swirling.  Had she been with him?

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t with him.  He had offered to take her for ride but she said no.¡±

    ¡°How is she otherwise?¡± I asked.  I couldn¡¯t imagine what she was going through.

    ¡°She¡¯s in rough shape,¡± Ben replied.  Sandra hasn¡¯t been able to speak with her but Sandra¡¯s father said Pippa¡¯s whole family is taking it very hard.¡±

    ¡°What can I do Ben?  There must be something I can do.¡±  I didn¡¯t know how to feel.  I had convinced myself I had moved on from her but the depths of my concern at that moment told me I wasn¡¯t entirely over her.  My first thought was to be at her side.  I was still her friend after all.  I had been someone who loved her.  I still loved her.  We just weren¡¯t together anymore.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know man, it¡¯s all messed up.  There¡¯s going to be a visitation at the funeral home and Sandra wants me to go with her.  I only met Roger in passing.  Hey, do you want to go with us?¡±

    I had to think about that one.  There was something about the intimacy of a wake that disturbed me.  I had only been to two funerals and they had both been for elderly people.  I had been very young when my great-grandmother on my father¡¯s side had passed.  I think it had been my first site of a dead body and still I didn¡¯t understand that great-grandma wasn¡¯t sleeping.  I wasn¡¯t much older when my second great-grandmother passed away. My mother was away on a trip to Nashville with an aunt.  I remembered three things about that funeral.  It had been Easter and my father had served us partridge.  My dress pants at the time had been handed down from Rod and they were too long.  My father had stapled them up.  The last memory was of a mini soda machine in the lounge.  For the life of me, to this day, I can¡¯t remember what my mother¡¯s grandmother looked like but I still can vividly recall the three selections in the machine had been Pepsi, some kind of orange soda, and grape.

    Roger¡¯s death was different.  Here was a situation where a young life had been lost.  I didn¡¯t think I could handle that family atmosphere.  Thinking of Pippa¡¯s family, I wondered how it would be with her father.  He had lost his son.  He would want to be around his family.  How was Pippa going to handle that?

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± I finally answered Ben.  ¡°I don¡¯t think Pippa would want me around.  She¡¯s with Bastien now.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear?  They¡¯re not together anymore.¡±

    This was news to me but then I¡¯d been avoiding her and I guess I hadn¡¯t noticed Bastien was no longer part of her story.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know.  She¡¯s not with me either and you hadn¡¯t shared that information with me until now, Ben.¡±

    ¡°You told me not to!¡± Ben exclaimed defensively.  ¡°Sandra told me not to tell you either.  Don¡¯t shoot the messenger!¡±

    ¡°Hey, I wasn¡¯t¡­¡± I began before changing tracks.  ¡°Back to the visitation, she wouldn¡¯t want me there.  She¡¯s got enough to deal with.¡±

    ¡°I think the funeral¡¯s on Tuesday during the day.  What about that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think on it, Ben.  You know I want to be there for her but I don¡¯t want to add to her problems.  I¡¯ll talk to you about it on Monday.¡±

    After I got off the phone I went to my room to think about Pippa for the first time in a long time.  I loaded up my turntable with the Elvis record I had bought for her birthday but had been returned to me.  I lay in my bed and listened again to that opening track.  The opening lines of ¡®I Want You, I Need You, I Love You¡¯ brought a lump to my throat.  It had seemed so long ago I had played the album last and cried over my lost relationship.  Now, it was different.

    Roger¡¯s death would change Pippa again.  How could it not?  She once talked about being best friends with him and how it had all been different after the incident with her father.  She had been still close with her brother but living in different houses had put a strain on their relationship.  Both had harboured resentment for the other.  Pippa felt Roger had blamed her for the split between their parents and she resented Roger for not taking her side.  She had described their sibling bond as complicated.  With Roger¡¯s passing, she might never forgive herself for harbouring any negative feelings toward her brother.

    I wanted to cry over Roger¡¯s death but I hadn¡¯t known him.  I couldn¡¯t even weep for Pippa.  We''d been apart for many months and I had tried to build up a resistance against any feelings I still might have had for her.  Sitting alone in my room and listening to Elvis offered no comfort.  I couldn¡¯t be with her.  I couldn¡¯t be with her when she might have needed me more than ever.

    I spent the weekend conflicted.  I wanted to be with Pippa to support her and yet the stirring of old feelings were convincing me I just wanted to be back with her for all the old reasons.

    I spent more time running the neighbourhood both days.  I had trained myself to run without thinking about Pippa.  I couldn¡¯t stop those thoughts from flooding back in.  I knew I should have felt something for Roger but it wasn¡¯t in me.  Pippa pushed everything aside and was forefront in my thoughts. By Monday, I persuaded myself that attending Roger¡¯s funeral, if nothing else, would let her know I still cared in my way.

    I didn¡¯t sit with Ben and Sandra at the services.  Ben had invited me to be with them but Sandra was part of the extended family and that would put me too close to Pippa.  I wanted her to see me but I knew it would also be difficult for her and she might wonder why I was really there.  Instead, I slipped quietly in and sat near the back.

    I could see the grieving family at the front.  Pippa and her mother stood together and someone whom I could only guess to be her father stood off at a respectable distance.  All of them wept openly and I found myself moved to tears at the sight of their grief.

    There were a number of younger people like myself spaced throughout the congregation.  I wondered if these were students from Collegiate where Roger had still attended.  I recognized a few of them as Collegiate athletes from the All City the previous year.  Roger must have been a very popular person.

    My eyes would drift back to Pippa and my heart ached to see her mourn so openly.  I had no experience with this and my own tears continued to stream.  I tried to be inconspicuous in wiping away my tears but I also realized they were appropriate in the circumstances.  I bowed my head and tried to will good thoughts to Pippa.  I imagined her finding strength and comfort in them.

    Shortly before they closed the rear doors to begin the service, I felt someone take a seat beside me in the pew.  I glanced to the right and realized Bastien was there and was sliding closer to me.

    ¡°I believe we have arrived for the same intention,¡± Bastien whispered.

    I didn¡¯t know if I should answer him.  I held no anger for him because I had moved on from that but it didn¡¯t make me feel any more comfortable having an old rival sitting so close to me.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to show my respect, probably the same as you,¡± I replied.  Here we were, two exes of the same girl no longer competing but trying to prove we were noble if nothing else.

    ¡°Assuredly,¡± he said.  I was still rankled by his perfect diction.  I tried not to show it.

    I thought about trying to say something witty but realized a funeral was not the place for a competition of words.  I bowed my head again as much to ignore him as to avoid showing him the tears I had shed.

    Bastien didn¡¯t speak again and the services started shortly after that.  I kept my mind off him and on Pippa and Roger and their family.  I was being respectful and if Pippa saw me sitting with Bastien then maybe she would sense I had grown and moved on.  She had wanted me to like the guy and I thought not digging him with my elbow would prove I had matured.

    After the services had ended and the casket had been wheeled out front to a waiting hearse, I quietly left.  I had to slide all the way down the far side of our pew as Bastien made no effort to move on his side.  I wasn¡¯t sure why he lingered but somewhere inside me, I felt sorry for him.  He had had feelings for Pippa and something had happened and he had suffered the same fate as I.  We both had lost a connection with Pippa and could only now watch her from a distance.  I had at least mourned for Roger, in my way, but I believed that Bastien was only mourning the relationship he had lost.

    I lay awake long that night thinking again of Pippa and wondering what I could do for her.  My encounter with Bastien had made me think more about the previous summer and the stolen moments over her bicycle.  Had Bastien fared better than I in that department?  I had tried not to watch the two of them when they were together at school.  If there had been open displays of affection between the two then I had chosen not to see them.

    I fell asleep contemplating Pippa.  She had told me about how she wanted to move on.  Was this even possible for her after Roger¡¯s death?  I woke at one point thinking I could hear her call my name.  It was like that sometimes.  I would hear something in a dream and imagined or wished it in my waking world.

    Pippa was not at school the next day which was probably to be expected.  I didn¡¯t look for Bastien.  I had moved on past any concern for him.

    That night I dreamt again of Pippa and awoke believing she had been calling my name.  I lay in my bed listening to the silence of the night.  There was a faint scratching noise somewhere.  I recognized the sound.  I had made the same noise once when I was outside Pippa¡¯s window and I had been trying to attract her attention.

    I went to my window but I could see nothing.  My window was at ground level and if there had been something or someone there I knew I would have seen some sign of it.  I fell asleep listening for that noise to come again.  I didn¡¯t hear it.

    The next morning, before leaving for school, I checked outside my window thinking I could find a clue.  I know it was foolish because there had been nothing there the night before and I was just working myself up trying to think it was real.  I didn¡¯t notice a thing but then I expanded my search and saw footprints in the still-damp lawn outside my old window.  How long had those been there?  They might have been fresh but they could easily have been days or weeks old.  I filed it away determined against building the mystery into something that was not.

    Pippa was still not at school that day either.  I couldn¡¯t begin to think how she could return to school.  I remember how she thought all eyes had been upon her when nasty rumours were flying in her last days at Collegiate.  It might be a new school but who could blame her if she thought everyone would be staring and whispering about the girl who grieved?

    I talked to Ben briefly to see if he had any news of Pippa.  He had none.  I told him about the mysterious noise and prints outside my house.  He asked me how much sleep I had had in the past few days.  I had to admit that since the news of Roger¡¯s passing my nights had been fitful and I certainly wasn¡¯t well rested.

    It helped to talk about Pippa even if wasn¡¯t anything concrete.  I didn¡¯t share everything with Ben but he helped convince me I had to try and stop thinking about her or it would begin to adversely affect me.  I understood but my thoughts of Pippa were constant.  I wasn¡¯t sure if she did return to school but seeing her at least back into that daily routine would ease my mind.

    I went to bed early that night because I was tired.  Too many recent nights of too little sleep were catching up with me.  I tried to put Pippa out of my thoughts but too many things reminded me of her.

    Around midnight I was awoken again to the scratching noise.  I started for my window and then remembered the tracks had not been outside this current bedroom.  This was Rod¡¯s old room.  The prints had been outside my old window.  I thought about going into that room and checking there but decided to go for the source.  I ran up the stairs and quietly opened the front door.  There was someone crouching outside my old window and scratching at the screen.  I couldn¡¯t make out who it was.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± I asked.  I know it was stupid.  Confronting a stranger in the dark is never the smart thing to do.

    ¡°Pink.¡±  That¡¯s all she had to say.  I had known it would be her.  I had hoped it would be her.  It had been her voice I had heard two nights before.  They were her footprints in the grass.  Of course, I thought, it made sense.  She had only been to my house once when she had walked me home and had asked me to be nice to Bastien.  That was the day I had proposed that stupid deal.  I recall how I had pointed out the window on the right and had said it was mine.  She had remembered but she also hadn¡¯t known I had relocated to the bedroom on the left.

    ¡°Pippa, what are you doing here?¡±  I knew that singular question would start the journey of a thousand more.

    She ran to me and put her arms around me.  She was shivering.  The days had been warm but the nights still held a chill.  I gestured her inside and down the stairs to my new room.  I had signalled her to be quiet as we entered my house.  I took a blanket from my bed and wrapped it around her.

    ¡°Pippa, what are you doing here?¡± I asked again.

    Her face was pale and I could see the tracks of many tears she had tried to wipe away.

    ¡°Hold me Pink, I¡¯m so cold.¡±

    I put my arms around her and held her until her body calmed.  She looked a fright.  She¡¯d had no coat and her shoes were wet from having crossed a damp lawn.  Her breathing began to slow and she was quiet for such a long time that I thought she had fallen asleep.

    She lifted her head and brought her face close to mine and then kissed me.  I had forgotten the feel of her lips on mine.  There was a time when we had been together I thought I would remember forever every kiss that passed between us.  Strong was that first kiss in the infield at the All City and even stronger had been the one at my locker which first signalled her love for me.  The rest had blurred together with so many outside the Texaco and some in the dark outside her house.   I couldn¡¯t recall the last kiss between us but it had been before I had confessed Steve Wilson and I were one and the same.  Whatever was behind this kiss in my room was something new and something different.  It spoke volumes but it might as well have been in another language for the little I understood.

 14. The Storyteller

    ¡°Stop the bus!¡± I yelled.

    It was the fall of 1980 and I was sitting on a bus in Peterborough with Bags and we were heading home after a night of drinking and oral recitation.  I had not seen nor had I had any news of Pippa for over a year.  More than eighteen months had passed since that kiss in my bedroom and plenty had happened since then.  The least of which was a new start for me in a new city and the fact that Pippa and I were no longer together¡­again.

    Pippa¡¯s story is complicated.  That was the fallback word I used to describe our relationship.  Words like complicated or complex or confounding sprung to mind but those were just using one letter of the alphabet.  I could pick a random letter and fill a page with adjectives of a similar nature.  Complicated is as good as any.

    Pippa¡¯s story is and was complicated.  It cannot follow a linear path and trying to communicate it requires some liberties in the order of the telling.  The kiss and the aftermath relied both on information I experienced firsthand at the time and some I learned later on.  I could relate it in sequential stages but it wouldn¡¯t make much sense.  The short of it was that for a time after that kiss Pippa and I were a couple again and more than eighteen months later we were not.  Her story included a long gap where she was absent from my story and I knew nothing.

    I spent the fall of 1979 and most of 1980 not knowing Pippa¡¯s fate.  I knew where she was, or where she had said she was going, but the details of her life during that year remained a mystery to me.  Ben and Sandra refused to tell me anything at Pippa¡¯s insistence.  I gradually distanced myself from them because they were of no assistance as well as being a painful reminder of yet another break from Pippa.

    I didn¡¯t know where I had gone wrong but I found myself alone again and reflecting on my love for Pippa and why it wasn¡¯t uncomplicated; for lack of a better word and keeping with the theme.  We had been in and out of each other¡¯s lives so many times we had become like tides that came and went and left nothing but flotsam and debris to be sorted in order to understand the puzzle.

    My last year of high school was torment.  I had secrets I couldn¡¯t discuss and there were secrets Ben and Sandra could not share with me.  I was depressed and anxious all at the same time and when you¡¯re a teenager in love, those feelings are magnified exponentially.  It was a wonder I could function at all.

    I had spent the summer of 1979 working midnights at the Texaco.  Rod had offered to get me my old evening shift back but I preferred the later shifts after Pippa left because I couldn¡¯t sleep nights.  I found the only thing that kept me from lying awake was the routine of getting to bed at eight o¡¯clock those mornings after I worked.  I did a four nights on three nights off rotation with Ben working the other nights.  That was easier on my friendship with him as well because he wasn¡¯t sharing some vital information with me so I was putting some distance between us.

    Running was the only thing I kept for myself but even that began to suffer because the irregular shifts weren¡¯t conducive to that pastime.  Nothing happened of any significance over that Summer.  Pippa was gone and I was miserable.

    Returning to school in the fall, I was lost.  Broken is a good word too.  I couldn¡¯t believe I had let it happen to me again.  Pippa and I had reconnected and then she left me.  The first time had been my own stupidity but the second time, as far as I knew, wasn¡¯t due to anything for which I could accept responsibility.  It had become a pattern.  By summer we were parted, like the previous year, and I was trying to pick up the pieces and move on.  I was tired of trying to move on.  If anything, besides getting tired of it, I was also getting good at it.

    After our first parting of the ways, I had to recover from anger and jealousy and plow a way forward.  I had found a way and I started to be happy.  Then came that kiss and the reuniting only to have everything come apart again.  That was tougher to move on from.  She had ended it for a rationale I didn¡¯t understand at the time.  Not understanding made it worse because I was looking to place blame or a way to assess what was broken and find a way to fix it.  I found neither.

    Grade thirteen was compulsory if you wanted to go to University.  That started to be my focus when I wasn¡¯t pining over Pippa and wondering why everything had ended between us.  I wanted to write and I wanted to be a teacher.  Both of those required a post-secondary education.  Three years of University and possibly a year at Teacher¡¯s College lay ahead of me.  I had to get back to that plan.  I should have stuck with that plan and not had a diversion with Pippa.  The plan was all I had left.

    I spent the last year of high school focusing on my education and future goals.  I enrolled in three English courses that year.  One was Canadian poetry and novels, one was British studies, and the last was futuristic literature.  I enjoyed all of them but the futuristic literature was very appealing to me.  I had often compared my life, especially those sections that involved Pippa, as a form of science-fiction because it was a tale that was so unbelievable, it defied logic.

    I threw myself into my lessons and tried to block out everything else.  I wasn¡¯t always successful.  Sometimes one of my readings would remind me of Pippa and I¡¯d wonder anew where she was and how her life was progressing without me.  It wasn¡¯t vanity thinking she¡¯d fall apart on her own but it made it slightly better to think she might not be having an easy go of it.

    The three English courses were over two semesters with the British course starting in January.  I wasn¡¯t all that thrilled by the classics of Shakespeare, Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens or even Chaucer.  They were fine in their way but some hadn¡¯t aged well.  I felt the movie adaptations were great for works by authors like Dickens but otherwise I found them dry.  Of course, the unit on British poets was the most distressing.  Why did we have to study Robert Browning again?

    When we inevitably reached ¡®Pippa Passes¡¯ I felt my depression waxing full again.  I had studied that narrative the year before I met my own Pippa and the two stories could not have been further apart.  Browning¡¯s Pippa gladdened everyone she passed.  My Pippa left sorrow in her wake.  When it came time to write an essay on the English poets, I conveniently avoided Browning and hoped my teacher wouldn¡¯t notice.  She didn¡¯t.

    The rest of the year was like that.  I was trying to move on but I felt at times I was only spinning my wheels.  Would there ever be another shining future for me?  The last one had only been a glimmering on the horizon that turned out to be a mirage.  When I finally had reached it, I lost Pippa along the way and then she returned and left me again.  It was a nightmarish d¨¦j¨¤ vu I could have done without.

    The summer before University was the night shift again at the Texaco.  That July, Rod and Rhonda got married.  If Rod quitting school and then moving in with Rhonda had been distressing for my parents, it was more so with their marriage.  Neither had wanted big plans and my mother anguished over the civil ceremony at the Justice of the Peace.  Rod asked me to stand as his best man.  I was happy to do it but my heart ached.  Here was Rod getting on with his future like he said he would and he had found a partner to share in it.  Their marriage was a cold reminder that somehow I had failed twice in relationships and both times with the same girl.

    They brought someone else in to replace Ben on the opposing shifts that summer.  His name was Mark and I never met him.  Ben had been tired of the late shifts and wanted a job with more hours.  He worked for a lawn maintenance firm and cut grass and pruned hedges.  I saw him around a few times that summer and he always looked healthy and very tanned.  We were friendly but not as close as previous years.

    The quiet of working at night afforded me time to write.  I didn¡¯t turn out anything of significance.  I had tried my hand at poetry, having been inspired by some of the Canadian and British poets I had studied.  Most of mine were full of love and loss and lament.  It was amateurish and I eventually ripped them all to shreds.  My poetic efforts are just a memory.  I steered clear from that particular literary outlet afterward.

    My education plans had been finalized before I began work again at the Texaco.  I had been offered acceptance at three Ontario universities and had settled on Trent.  I liked the look of the school and the main campus with the river flowing through it was appealing.  They offered a number of interesting English courses as well and I thought adding Psychology classes would be of benefit if I did go to Teacher¡¯s College.

    The summer passed and I found myself packed and off to school in Peterborough.  Only my family knew what school I was attending.  I hadn¡¯t shared the information with Ben.  When last we spoke on it I had mentioned the possibility of three different schools.  I hadn¡¯t had any news of Pippa and I was determined she would have no news of me.  I wanted to be my own person and seize a future that didn¡¯t include her.

    I had convinced myself I would never see Pippa again.  I had yearned and ached and hoped and dreamed so much over the past year I got to the point where I couldn¡¯t do it anymore.  Pippa was off living her life and I had come to realize that the message was clear she wanted no more part of me in it.  That was tough to accept.  I had imagined her coming back.  It had happened before.  Things we discussed and shared after that kiss in my bedroom were etched permanently in my memory.  They obviously hadn¡¯t been enough for her on which to build a life together.

    Naturally, I didn¡¯t know any of that.  She¡¯d left me and I assumed she wasn¡¯t coming back.  There wasn¡¯t a phone call or a letter or anything.  No news travelled through the family to me and no one else I knew had knowledge of her.  In the absence of anything I eventually gave in to the notion I was on my own once more.  I¡¯d been there before and I was determined not to let it consume me again.

    I lived in residence my first year at Trent and it was an interesting experience to say nothing else.  I had my own room but the bathrooms were shared with others on my floor.  It was co-educational and that brought its own challenges.  I didn¡¯t have a sister and having females living close to me and passing me every day stirred things in me I had forgotten.  I wasn¡¯t ready for all that.  I had only loved one girl and never had any crushes.  Suddenly there were new eyes on me I hadn¡¯t expected.  I was sure I had permanently moved on from Pippa but the sight of other females made me question whether I had really let her go.  Part of me didn¡¯t want to know.

    My neighbour to the right of me was a fellow by the name of Kevin Baggley.  He introduced himself the first day with beer in hand and told me to call him ¡®Bags¡¯.  I had assumed it was short for Baggley but I would soon learn it was also because he carried small bags on his person of candies or treats as well as illegal substances which I never questioned but never indulged in either.  It might have been my small city rearing but drugs didn¡¯t interest me.  The beer was another thing.

    The first few weeks of school were the standard getting acquainted notion.  There seemed to be parties in our building almost every weekend that first month.  There was a girl named Libby, from the floor above, who took an interest in me.  She was an English major as well and we shared a couple of classes together.  She¡¯d gravitate toward me at parties and sit with me in lectures.  She was pretty but I had no feelings for her.  Oh, I wanted to but no one compared to Pippa and I had been burned twice.  Once bitten twice shy and all that.  What did it mean if it happened to you more than once?  All I knew was I was afraid to try the water again for fear of finding a drop-off.

    Bags kept me company.  He always said what was on his mind and never shied from a difficult conversation.

    ¡°You¡¯re a little skittish when it comes to women, aren¡¯t you Jeff?¡± he asked me once when we were hanging out in his room.

    ¡°Bags, you don¡¯t know the half of it.¡±  The truth was that I didn¡¯t know the half of it.  I hadn¡¯t known what hit me when things started up with Pippa both times and didn¡¯t know anything when they ended.

    ¡°I¡¯m from the suicide capital of Canada so nothing surprises me,¡± he replied.  Bags had mentioned that before.  He lived outside of Toronto and he¡¯d heard that statistic once and trotted it out as needed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not suicidal but I¡¯ll tell you, Bags, I¡¯ve had cause to question a reason for living.¡±

    ¡°Tell daddy-Bags all about it brother.  The psychology¡¯s cheap.  If you¡¯ve got the beer, I¡¯ve got the time.¡±  Bags was funny.  I¡¯d never met anyone like him.  Ben had been the only other person I had shared intimate things about and still I had kept him in the dark on a lot of things about Pippa and I.

    I found myself telling Bags everything.  I held back from nothing and he didn¡¯t interrupt me and never asked a question until I was finished.

    ¡°Do you still love this girl, Pink?¡±

    ¡°Sorry Bags, nobody calls me that me anymore.  I¡¯m just Jeff now.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself Jeffy-boy, I saw an opportunity and I seized it.  By the way, you didn¡¯t answer my question.¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer his question.  He had called me Pink and it had stung.  That was Pippa¡¯s name for me and when I told him about how it started, I hadn¡¯t expected him to take it up.  I had told him everything; everything I knew.  I had even told him what happened after that kiss in my room.  I had thought I would never discuss those events with anyone other than Pippa.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­,¡± I began before Bags interrupted me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say complicated.  Everyone uses that word when they want to avoid answering something truthfully.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is, Bags.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Dr. Bags when we¡¯re in session.¡±

    I laughed hard.  It felt good to laugh.  I didn¡¯t know why I had shared so much with Bags.  Maybe it was because he was the first person who asked.  It might also have been he was so far removed from my story I thought he could be objective.

    ¡°Ok Dr. Bags, let¡¯s see how I answer that.  I do still love her.  I guess that¡¯s as good a place as any to begin.  I¡¯ve never stopped loving her.  We¡¯re not together but I have a hard time letting go.  I keep thinking she¡¯s going to come back.¡±

    ¡°Take a look around.  Do you see her, Jeff?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, but a guy can hope can¡¯t he?

    ¡°There we go, buddy, you still want her back.¡±  Bags paused for a moment before continuing.  ¡°The way I see it, you have to find a way of letting go.  You told me all about that moving on mumbo jumbo but I don¡¯t see that happening while you¡¯re still hanging on.¡±

    Bags was right.  I was still hanging on.  I had told myself Pippa and I were through but something in me wouldn¡¯t admit to it.  Everything had been left so open and raw and Pippa had walked away leaving everything unresolved.

    ¡°What do you suggest Dr. Bags?¡±  It felt both comical and comforting to address him that way.

    ¡°You told me about the story you wrote about the Ogre and how you later became your own character.  I think storytelling is the key.  You need to tell your story and let others hear it.  It¡¯ll be like giving it away.  You might find it liberating.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Bags, sorry, Dr. Bags, it¡¯s a bit of an involved story.  I wouldn¡¯t know how to begin to write it.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t write it, Jeff.  I said you have to tell your story.  You can¡¯t give away something you¡¯ve written down.  Writing¡¯s too precise and it¡¯s evidence of exactly what transpired.  Your story has to be told out loud and repeated by others until it changes in the telling and it just becomes a mockery of the real events.  That¡¯s when you know you¡¯ve let it go for good.¡±

    At that moment I looked at Bags like he was some kind of genius or a madman.  Oral stories did get corrupted or distorted the more they passed among people.  The written form would prevent that from happening and it would cling to me like another layer of skin I couldn¡¯t shed.  It would be a history I wouldn¡¯t be able to shake.  Bags had hit on something.  Telling it out loud would be me giving it away to be reshaped from person to person until it was unrecognizable.  After that, I wouldn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Like I said, Dr. Bags, it¡¯s a bit of an involved story even if it¡¯s only told out loud.¡±

    ¡°I can help you with that.  First, you have to get rid of all those ¡®Pink¡¯ references.  You¡¯re Jeff.  Then there¡¯s all that Elvis reference.  Does your story really need all that?¡±

    ¡°Wait, the Elvis bits are important.  Have you ever had a girl sing Elvis to you?  Have you ever cried over an Elvis song when your heart was breaking?  That¡¯s integral to my story.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay, Elvis in but Pink out.  Don¡¯t get me wrong about Elvis.  I¡¯m a fan of the King.  What about Carlotta?  Do you have any thoughts on trimming that?¡±

    ¡°No way, Carlotta¡¯s central to the theme.  That¡¯s what haunts Pippa.  It¡¯s part of her persona and her raison d¡¯etre.¡±  I was running with Bags¡¯ suggestion.  I was using literary words and devices in a story I wasn¡¯t even going to write down.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ve established the girl¡¯s got layers.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± I enthused.  ¡°That¡¯s how I¡¯ve always described her.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and one other thing,¡± Bags continued.  ¡°Lose that chapter where she comes back to you after her brother¡¯s death.¡±

    ¡°What!?  Are you crazy?  All of the events after that are how I got to this point!¡±  I was raging a little bit.  I didn¡¯t want to dismiss everything after Roger¡¯s funeral.  Pippa¡¯s return to me was the core of the conflict that developed up to her leaving again.

    ¡°Trim it then.  Only tell the parts you know.  Don¡¯t speculate.  You¡¯re the victim here.  Oh and keep all that Ogre stuff.  It shows you¡¯re human.¡±

    Trimming and editing my own story.  Would it be that easy?  Bags¡¯ therapy method was unique but cutting away at his suggestion was like excising parts of Pippa from my life.  Still, I began to realize this was my story and not hers.  She had wanted me to write her story and Bags was recommending I tell my own.

    I began to take ownership of my narrative.  School wasn¡¯t so intense I couldn¡¯t find time to work on it.  It wasn¡¯t an easy task because I had to close the door to everyone while I recited and repeated and worked on the final version.  Bags was my only audience for some of those rehearsals and he was good at advising me how to shorten some portions and how to strengthen others.  I balked at some of his revisions and fought hard for those I felt were important.  I knew I couldn¡¯t let go of some of those tough memories if I omitted them from the end product.

    ¡°Give it to me again,¡± Bags said to me after I recited my completed handiwork.  It hadn¡¯t been easy to remember everything and I chose not to memorize the story but to focus on what I considered important and a way to repeat it all without veering off into unintended melancholia.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t I told you enough times?  You have to be tired of it by now.¡±  I had lived it and I was getting tired of it.

    ¡°Once more with feeling,¡± Bags responded.

    I took up my pillow and took a swing at him.  Bags ducked my attempt and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of jelly beans.

    ¡°Where do you get all these things?¡± I asked as he offered me the bag.

    ¡°My sister works in a bulk-food store and hooks me up.¡±

    ¡°Does she give you all the bags too?¡±  All the items he produced from his pockets came in clear little baggies.

    ¡°She snitched me a roll.  They go through so many of them that nobody noticed one missing.¡±

    ¡°I hope most of the contents were obtained on the up and up?¡± I observed.

    ¡°Things from the bulk store, yes.  Don¡¯t ask about anything else.¡±

    I didn¡¯t.  I spun my tale again for him; trying to recall close to how I had told it the first time.

    ¡°Just as I thought,¡± Bags said after I had finished.  ¡°Drop the first-person narrative.  Third person will get across the story just as well.  Besides, it¡¯s another way of distancing yourself from it.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I replied.  ¡°But I¡¯m putting the ¡®Pink¡¯ references back in.  I¡¯ve got to let go of him, too.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll agree with that if you make one other change.¡±

    I readied myself for it.  Bags had been correct about most of his propositions but I was prepared to argue any other major revisions.

    ¡°You need a title.  I like that whole Browning detail but I suggest ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Why ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing¡¯? I had to ask.

    ¡°Two reasons.  One, you mention Pippa¡¯s passing in your motivation while competing in track.  Two, and more importantly, ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing¡¯ has a finality tone to it.

    ¡°But she¡¯s not dead.  She¡¯s just not here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s like finally letting someone go after they¡¯ve passed.  You grieve, you lament, you get angry, you bargain, and then you accept it.  It¡¯s Psychology 101.  Listen to Doctor Bags.¡±

    I worked on it again.  I cut the minutiae of some things and changed the narrative.  It was stronger.  I had already begun to distance myself from the fact it had all been real.  I had recited it so many times to myself I had begun to view it all as just a story and not real events.  I was prepared to unveil it to the world and let it go.

    ¡°Now what?¡± I asked Bags a few days later after I was satisfied I couldn¡¯t perfect it further.

    ¡°You launch it.  Nothing small.  You have to send it out in a big way.¡±

    Bags had obviously given this his full consideration.

    ¡°Coast to coast hook up?¡± I joked.

    ¡°Not so big but still big enough.¡±

    We were in Bags¡¯ room for a change and he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a flyer.

    ¡°Give this an eyeball,¡± he said, handing me the paper.

    It was an advertisement for a weekly open mic literary night at a downtown pub.  I recognized the name of the location but I¡¯d never been.

    ¡°Open mic, have you ever been?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Once,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°The joint¡¯s dark inside but the beer¡¯s cold.  The night I went was mostly poetry.  Existential crap mostly, ¡®we made love and I looked up at the moon for answers but it was the same from all sides¡¯.  Questioning the meaning of life and all that rot.  Nothing was as good as what you¡¯ve got to tell.¡±

    Existential poetry?  That reminded me of the poems I had written at the Texaco.  There had been no therapy in those pieces and luckily no evidence remained to remind me how badly those writings had been.

    ¡°This says open mic is every Saturday.  That¡¯s in two days.  I can¡¯t be ready by then.¡±  I started to panic thinking about actually performing spoken word in front of a live audience.

    ¡°You¡¯re ready now,¡± Bags countered.  ¡°You can¡¯t have second thoughts now.  This is what you¡¯ve worked towards.  It¡¯s time to let it go.¡±

    Bags was right again.  He¡¯d been right all along.  It had been his suggestion to shape my story like a performance piece.  What had I expected?  Had I put in the effort only to hold onto it like another sad reminder of everything I had experienced since meeting Pippa?

    ¡°What about next week or better yet, next month?¡±  I was stalling for time.  What had I gotten myself into?  Could I really follow through?

    ¡°I¡¯ve already signed you up,¡± Bags said matter-of-factly.  He grabbed the paper from my hand and held it to my face and pointed at the bottom where it said ¡®Preregistration Is Required.¡¯

    ¡°Wait a minute Bags, you had no right.  What made you even think I¡¯d be prepared for this coming Saturday?¡±

    ¡°I told you, you¡¯re ready.  You¡¯ve been ready for a week now.  You¡¯ve just been putting a shine on the piece.  It¡¯s polished enough.¡±

    I hated to confess to myself he had been correct almost every step of the way but committing to a date and venue frightened me.  This would start the process of saying goodbye to Pippa permanently.  I¡¯d be accepting she was gone and we¡¯d never reunite.  Was I ready for that ending?

    ¡°Okay, Bags, okay,¡± I said taking deep breaths between words.  ¡°I wish Elvis had a song for this.¡±  The last statement had been meant as a joke.  I had told Bags all about the Elvis connection with Pippa and her saying Elvis had a song for every purpose.

    ¡°Definitely don¡¯t listen to ¡®It¡¯s Still Here¡¯ then.

    I looked at Bags with incredulity.  He knew Elvis songs too?  I hadn¡¯t been an Elvis enthusiast until Pippa but I wasn¡¯t rampant about it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you as an Elvis fan, Bags.¡±

    Looking at him, I wasn¡¯t sure what he was into.  He was about my height but heavier set.  He had a full beard and he wore glasses.  Nothing said Elvis about him.

    ¡°One guitar player to another.  I grew up on The King.  I told you I was a fan of his.¡±

    This was too much.  Two close people in my life and they both had been big Elvis fans?

    ¡°Wait, you play guitar, too?  Where is it?¡±

    ¡°I left it at home,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be that guy who gets asked to play something at every party because someone knows I have a guitar.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense.  Tell me about ¡®It¡¯s Still Here¡¯.

    ¡°It¡¯s off his ¡®Fool¡¯ album from ¡¯73.  The album is actually just called ¡®Elvis¡¯ but everyone calls it the ¡®Fool¡¯ album because that¡¯s the first track which appears just below Elvis'' name on the front cover.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the Elvis lesson Bags but what¡¯s ¡®It¡¯s Still Here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s heavy stuff.  I don¡¯t think I should tell you.¡±

    ¡°Give, Bags.  What¡¯s with that song in particular?¡±  He had me intrigued and I wasn¡¯t going to let him off that easily.

    ¡°Okay, Jeff, you asked for it.  The lyrics are about a guy who has lost his girl.  He sings ¡°you''ve been gone away one year, and I have not forgotten dear, the love I had for you so long, is still here.¡±

    Talk about a one-two punch.  I find out that Bags is also into Elvis and then he lays on me lyrics from a song that mirrored everything I had been feeling.

    ¡°Yep, I asked for it.  If I wasn¡¯t ready before hearing those lines then I am now. Just one thing, if I go through with this on Saturday then you have to bring your guitar back the next time you come home.  We¡¯re going to find you an open mic night and you¡¯re going to sing that song.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± Bags said.  ¡°I¡¯ll even dedicate it to you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see the audience reaction to that dedication.¡±

    By Saturday, I was as prepared as I ever would be.  After hearing the lyrics of ¡®It¡¯s Still Here¡¯ I knew I had to get on with my commitment.  It was time for my story to have legs and leave me the way Pippa had.

    Bags and I had to take a bus all the way downtown.  It was about a thirty-minute ride and my insides were twisting.  Bags bought the first beer.  My nerves settled a little.  Bags was right again on two counts.  The beer was cold and the place was dark.

    The event didn¡¯t get going until around eight and by then the bar was full.  It was popular among the university and college group but there were older people there as well.  The chatter from the patrons was so loud, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d be heard when my turn came.

    Bags and I had rehearsed my introduction.  I knew enough not to start with ¡®once upon a time¡¯ but beyond that, I hadn¡¯t thought of anything clever.  Bags had told me to definitely avoid asking everyone in the bar if they wanted to hear a true story.  He said he¡¯d shout ¡®no¡¯ himself if I tried that.

    Eventually, they called my name.  Up until then, it had been the bad poetry Bags had told me about.  Well, some was good but given the audience reaction, it wasn¡¯t obviously good enough.  Some of the heavy drinkers had gotten a little rowdy early on but management had quieted them down.

    There was a little stage set up near the front and I took my beer.  I thought I would need it.  There was no turning back.  Bags¡¯ only advice had been ¡°just get on with it.¡±

    So, I got on with it.  I went right into the story.  ¡°Jeff had loved her from the first time he saw her now it was time for him to let that love go.¡±  It felt right.  The rest followed easily.

    The audience was silent.  I kept on going.  It was cathartic.  I gave away the first meeting, Carlotta, the slap, the Harrier, Viva Las Vegas in the infield, kisses at the Texaco.  Away went Steve Wilson, the first separation, Bastien, the Ogre, Roger¡¯s death, reconciliation, and then the final goodbye.  Everything left me and I made the listeners believe and hang on to my every word.  Finally, I debuted my ending; one I had even held back from Bags.

    ¡°Just when he began to see how things could be, she reached out across the table in a coffee shop, held his hand, and quietly said goodbye.¡±  That wasn¡¯t how it ended but it was the dramatic finish I thought the story needed.

    You could have heard a pin drop.  I could hear someone sobbing somewhere in the room.  Then, and probably led by Bags, the applause was thunderous.

    ¡°Man, you nailed it,¡± Bags said later as we were on the bus back to our residence.  It was after eleven and it was the last run of the night.

    I was feeling pretty good.  I had imbibed a little too much but that was the compliment to my performance.  People kept offering to buy me beer.  I shared liberally with Bags.  He wasn¡¯t feeling any pain either.

    ¡°Show me the slips, pal,¡± Bags added.

    ¡°What slips?¡± I asked in my stupor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be coy with me brother,¡± he replied.  ¡°You got numbers.¡±

    Bags knew.  There had been no hiding it from him.  I¡¯d been approached by a number of different women and a handful had wanted to give their numbers to this sensitive orator.

    ¡°Five, maybe six, tops.  I think I got one from someone¡¯s mother; maybe her daughter, too.  It¡¯s hard to remember.¡±  I produced the pieces of paper and let Bags peruse them.

    ¡°Are you going to call any of them?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.  I¡¯m not into being a bar pickup.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re selling yourself short, Jeff.¡±  He passed the papers back to me.  ¡°That¡¯s the world in your hands kid.¡±  Bags was not just a psychologist in the making, he was quite the philosopher.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just given it all away Bags, let me see what the sober light of day brings.¡±  I was philosophizing a bit myself.

    ¡°Oh yeah, you¡¯re into girls who like Elvis and know about running and shit.  How about her?¡±  Bags leaned over me and pointed out the window.

    It was dark and we were riding through a residential area before the driver would turn up a northern route and straight back to the main campus.  Vaguely I could see someone in the dark out for a late jog.  My eyes had been almost lulled into closing by the motion of the bus but I managed a good glimpse of the woman as she passed beneath a street light.

    ¡°Stop the bus!¡± I yelled.  I pushed past Bags and screamed again at the driver.  ¡°Stop the bus!¡±

    Bags was on his feet before the driver edged over to the side of the road cursing all drunken students.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on Jeff?¡± Bags managed as he followed me out to the street.

    ¡°No time to talk Bags, Pippa¡¯s passing or we passed her.¡±  Direction and grammar were the last things on my mind.

 15. Visions of Pippa

    I didn¡¯t know how far we¡¯d travelled after I had caught the glimpse of Pippa.  I think the driver had gone a block or two before he pulled over and let Bags and I off.  I ran back in the direction I saw her and Bags staggered on behind me until I stopped.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one here!¡± Bags yelled.

    ¡°I saw her Bags!  That running girl was Pippa.¡±

    ¡°How could she be here, Jeff?  Didn¡¯t you tell me she had gone off to Quebec City?¡±

    ¡°Yes.  No.  Maybe.  I don¡¯t know Bags.  I thought that¡¯s what she said but maybe she lied.  It was her, damn it!¡±

    What made me so positive it was her?  It had been over a year since I last saw Pippa.  This new vision in the night could have been her.  The hair was a lot shorter and she¡¯d developed a little more in all the right places but she looked like her.  Hadn¡¯t she?  I was confused and I was inebriated.  Maybe my mind had played tricks on me.

    I scanned the street.  Bags and I were the only ones out that night.  She could have turned up a side street or entered one of the many homes in the neighbourhood.  Whoever it had been, she was gone.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got some tough news for you Jeff.  She¡¯s not here.¡±

    ¡°Not here now or not here ever?¡±  I asked.  I wasn¡¯t sure if Bags thought maybe I was hallucinating.

    ¡°Oh, you saw someone.  I saw her too.  But I don¡¯t know what Pippa looks like.  How can you be sure it was her?¡±

    I hung my head and shook it to try and clear some of the fuzziness.  My head was in a state from too many beers, running around late-night streets, and the shock of seeing someone I had tried to let go of through my performance that evening.

    I sat down on the curb to think.  In a moment Bags was at my side and draped an arm around me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got some more bad news for you.  That was the last bus.  It¡¯s on foot from here.¡±

    I lay back on the sidewalk and looked up at the night.  I was a fool.  I had been so ready to launch my goodbye to Pippa and yet there I was beneath a starry sky trying to convince myself I had been premature with my farewell.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go Bags.  I don¡¯t know what I was thinking.  I thought I was ready to let her go.  This just proves how lost I am.¡±  I got to my feet and pulled Bags to his feet.

    ¡°No,¡± Bags said.  ¡°It just means you left something out of your story that you want to hold onto.  You have to figure it out and add it back in.  Either that or you need a bigger venue next time.¡±

    I laughed only to let Bags know I was still with him.  My mind was elsewhere.

    It took us two hours of walking and stopping and a little puking before we got back to the residence.  On the way, Bags had convinced me to tell him the unabridged version of my history with Pippa.  It didn¡¯t help.  I couldn¡¯t figure out what I had edited out.

    We were both exhausted but sober by the time we reached our rooms.  I flopped into my bed without removing my clothes.  I kicked off my shoes and tried to close my eyes.  I tried to picture Pippa and the girl in the night side by side for comparison.  I couldn¡¯t do it.  Pippa¡¯s was the only face I saw.  I convinced myself I¡¯d pushed myself too fast and too soon at Bags¡¯ insistence.  It couldn¡¯t have been Pippa. Or could it?  Maybe telling my story had been like those times I had practised or competed in track.  I had to leave something for the finish.  Maybe this wasn¡¯t the finish for Pippa and I.  It was obvious I was holding something back.

    My head had hurt but I managed to sleep somehow.  I didn¡¯t sleep as long as Bags so I spent some time running the driveway from the campus to the main road.  The fog was cleared from my head and I attributed the incident from the previous night to wishful thinking and too much drinking.

    More than a week passed and I didn¡¯t dwell on the girl in the night.  Bags and I had discussed it at length and gone over my relationship with Pippa as best we could but found no clue that would have placed her in the same city at the same time as I.  Her story had ended with her going to Quebec City.  She announced it to me the last time I saw her.  That was a chapter I knew nothing about it.

    Bags had wanted me to get back out there and tell my story again.  For my part, I was done with that.  If narrating my brief history with an old girlfriend brought hallucinations of her then I wasn¡¯t ready for another round.

    I put myself back into my studies.  I had two English courses, classical Greek and Roman literature, introduction to Psychology, and Philosophy.  It wasn¡¯t a heavy course load but it required some moving about within the city.  Most of my studies were on the main campus and within walking distance.  All lectures were in the auditoriums and theatres near my residence but two of the break-out classes were in smaller rooms on the downtown campuses.

    Twice a week I would take the bus downtown and return North through the city after my classes were over.  There was a point about midway between the main campus and the inner city where the northbound and southbound buses would pass each other.  I would often look out the window to see if there was anyone on the other bus I recognized.

    It was about ten days after my pub engagement when I found myself heading North again after a small class session.  Our bus was at a stop light waiting to proceed and I could see the other bus, heading in the opposite direction, also waiting on the other side of the intersection for the signal to change.

    Both buses had not sped up as yet when they passed.  I had a clear view into the southbound bus.  There she was again.  This was the same girl I saw running in the night.  It wasn¡¯t something imagined from my subconscious because this was not an old vision of Pippa.  This was the newer version with the shortened hair.  It looked like her but then my sighting was split-second.  I had wanted to jump up and urge the driver to halt but it wouldn¡¯t have stopped the other bus.  I had to let it go.  I had to let her go.

    It was beginning to be too much.  I had seen the same girl twice and each time I thought it was Pippa.  After the first glimpse in the dark, I had convinced myself I had imagined the all too real running girl was Pippa.  This second time, I wasn¡¯t so sure.

    I thought back on ¡®Vertigo.¡¯  Hadn¡¯t the character of Scottie often imagined he¡¯d seen the woman he¡¯d loved in a number of places after she was gone?  And that was after he¡¯d had his breakdown.  What was my excuse?  I hadn¡¯t completely fallen apart.  I had started in on a new interval without Pippa.  Why was I seeing her again?  Was I on the verge of my own mental collapse?

    I tried to let this episode go but it stuck with me.  I had seen someone whom I had believed to be Pippa on two occasions and in two different locations.  If it wasn¡¯t her then the alternatives were there was a doppelganger for her in the city or I really was going crazy.

    Why hadn¡¯t Bags¡¯ wild therapy worked?  I had believed in his analysis it was time to let Pippa go and his bizarre treatment of storytelling to progress the healing.  I had felt better after I had recited my story but then the two sightings had sent me back to the beginning.  What was it Bags said it meant?  He suggested I had left something out of my story I wanted to keep and I had to decipher it and add it back in.

    It couldn¡¯t be that easy, could it?  Of course, it couldn¡¯t.  I had gone over everything and eliminated anything I thought I was not prepared to lose.  There was nothing missing.  The obvious choice, which made total sense to me, related to the Elvis song Bags had told me about.  He had only told me a portion of the lyrics but I had remembered them vividly.  Elvis had been singing about an old love, but not a forgotten love, when he sang ¡°you''ve been gone away one year, and I have not forgotten dear, the love I had for you so long, is still here¡±.

    Was that it?  Was it my love for Pippa?  Was I refusing to let it go?  It might have been as simple as that.  My brain was telling me the love I had for her so long was still there.  I latched on to that for an answer.  The love I¡¯d had for Pippa was all I had left of her.  It made sense.

    I wasn¡¯t sure my self-diagnosis was correct but it was logical.  There was only one problem, the way I saw it, how do you let go of love?  I¡¯d been in love with Pippa for so long since before we were together and through our off-and-on relationships that it was the only thing that kept me going without her.  I couldn¡¯t abandon those feelings.  If keeping them meant I¡¯d be envisioning her in other girls then I¡¯d have to find a way to live with it.

    Naturally, Bags didn¡¯t buy it.  He thought the best course was finding someone new.

    ¡°Where are all those numbers you were given?¡± he asked me after I explained my latest theory.  ¡°There has to be a likely candidate in there somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not crazy Bags, just a little mental.  Besides, I threw them away.¡±

    ¡°Oh man, all those wasted opportunities.¡±  As if to console himself, he extracted a baggie of gumdrops and popped a handful into his mouth.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re right.  There¡¯s probably another girl out there for me.  I just haven¡¯t found her yet.¡±  I tried to sound convincing.

    ¡°And you won¡¯t find her if you keep on looking for the old one,¡± Bags replied.

    ¡°What do you suggest I do, advertise for a replacement?¡±

    Bags snapped his fingers and then pointed at me.  ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea my boy.¡±

    ¡°I was just kidding!¡± I exclaimed.  ¡°I told you I¡¯m not in the market for a new relationship right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about a new relationship,¡± he said.  ¡°I¡¯m talking about you being sure the old one is finished.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not making any sense, Bags.¡±  He wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Listen first and then answer my questions in order.  You say you saw this girl, who might have been your Pippa, that Saturday night after the pub?¡±

    ¡°You know I did or thought I did.  You were there.¡±

    ¡°Yes or no will suffice,¡± Bags went on.  ¡°Was that the first night you saw this girl?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±  I decided to string along with him.

    ¡°Then you say you saw her a second time on a southbound bus?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You also say the girl you saw in the night was the same girl you saw on that second bus?¡±

    ¡°Yes.  Where are you going with this, Bags?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s simple.  We need to find out if there really was or is such a girl.  You saw someone and I don¡¯t doubt that because I was the first one to spot her that night.  So, we try and find that girl.¡±

    I was still confused.  Hadn¡¯t Bags and I tried that night to find her?  I wasn¡¯t even sure if the second girl I¡¯d seen was her or if it was another vision of Pippa brought on by self-deception.

    ¡°Okay Bags, how do we find her?  We have no clues.¡±

    ¡°Of course we do,¡± he pointed out.  ¡°The last time you saw her was on a southbound bus when you were heading north.  The point at which those two buses pass means just one thing.  The next stop for your bus was the main campus and the only stop for that southbound bus prior to that intersection was, drumroll please, the main campus.  That southbound bus had picked up that girl somewhere here.  Don¡¯t you get it, Jeff? She¡¯s either a student here or she works here or she was visiting someone here.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I was speechless.  Why hadn¡¯t I worked that out?  I had been so busy trying to eliminate the possibility of this girl being Pippa, I had credited her to being a figment of my imagination.

    ¡°That¡¯s if the two girls are the same,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°Are you thinking twins, Jeff?  Ah, split down the middle, one a piece.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not thinking twins!  I was just saying I¡¯m not even sure if I saw the same girl the second time whom you and I saw the first time.  Does that make sense?¡±

    ¡°None whatsoever,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°But let¡¯s pretend it does.  Now we go to work proving or disproving there¡¯s only one girl or not and whether she¡¯s Pippa or she¡¯s not.¡±

    ¡°That makes less sense than what I said.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it sounds better coming from me.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Bags, what do we do next?¡±

    ¡°We advertise!¡±  His enthusiasm was prolific but I was yet to be convinced.

    ¡°Billboard, skywriter, or did you have something specific in mind?¡±

    ¡°Lower key, pal.  Assuming she¡¯s a student then she might read the student newspaper or the bulletin board at the library.¡±

    Bags was on to something.  The student newspaper was a weekly and it wouldn¡¯t cost anything to place an ad or even to post something on the bulletin board.

    ¡°Wanted one girl,¡± I began, ¡°who may or may not be real and might or might not be someone I know.  Apply in person or send photograph.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Bags countered.  ¡°I was thinking something more enticing.  You know the kind that says something like you wore red and I wore white and our eyes met briefly in passing.  If you are the girl who was at such and such a place at such and such a moment then respond to this ad.  That kind of stuff gets them all the time.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget such and such a place and date times two.  We¡¯re working off two sightings.  How do we have her respond?  Should we give a phone number or say who I am and where I live?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got to perpetuate the mystery, Jeff.  We ask her to post a reply in the paper suggesting a rendezvous day and location.  Or she can post a note on the bulletin board beneath our post there.¡±

    ¡°What if we get no response?  Or worse yet, what if we get a bunch of crackpot responses?¡±

    ¡°Leave that to me,¡± Bags said, trying to be reassuring.  ¡°I¡¯ll be the lead and meet with anyone who responds.  You can lurk in the background and see who turns up.  Remember, I got a glimpse of her that night, too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but you were drunk.¡±

    ¡°So were you Jeffy-boy.  Between the two of us, we should be able to spot the real deal.¡±

    It all sounded perfect but I was also frightened by the prospects.  What if no one responded, like I feared, and I was no further ahead?  Would that suggest I was crazy and there was no such girl or would it mean the girl was still out there somewhere?  My worst fear was this girl might be real and she would turn out to be Pippa.  What then?

    Bags took care of the details and sent in an ad to the paper and posted a note on the big board at the library.  The latter produced no results and I suggested after a week we take it down.  The paper, however, yielded one result.  I had thought what Bags had written sounded a little desperate and I was prepared for the cranks to respond.  The response, however, seemed genuine if not a little vague.

    ¡°Here it is Jeff!¡± Bags exclaimed after finding a response in the paper a week to the day after our message had appeared.  ¡°I think this is the one.  ¡®Running girl wants to know who seeks her.  The Old Grind, Saturday 2 pm.  Wear a scarf¡¯.¡±

    ¡°How do we know it¡¯s the one?¡± I asked.  ¡°It¡¯s the only one!¡±

    ¡°Have a little faith, Jeff.  Say, do you have a scarf, I can borrow?¡±

    Bags had agreed to be the front.  He was going to meet with the respondent and scope things out.  We didn¡¯t have a scarf between us but we asked around and were given the loan of a bright green scarf.  It did nothing to compliment Bags¡¯ appearance.

    The Old Grind was a coffee shop in the downtown district.  Bags and I both believed this meant the girl lived somewhere near there.  Hadn¡¯t she been travelling southbound in that direction when I last saw her?  The course she had been running at night would have also placed her near there.

    I instructed Bags to arrive early and sit at a table in the window so I could watch from across the street.  That way I could see anyone entering and exiting and who might eventually sit with him.

    I was nervous.  Twice, I pleaded with Bags to call the whole thing off.  If it wasn¡¯t Pippa we would have to explain to whoever showed up why we were looking for her.  If it was Pippa then I¡¯d have to deal with all the old feelings and question myself as to why I needed to see her.

    It was just my luck it rained that day.  I had the hood of my jacket pulled up and around my head and I stood back in an empty doorway across the street from the coffee shop.  It wasn¡¯t directly across because I wanted to be more inconspicuous.  It was the entrance off the right to some apartments that were housed above a local store.  It wasn¡¯t a busy spot.

    Bags was about twenty minutes early and I could just make him out in the window.  Several people walked by The Old Grind but no one went in around the designated time.  None of the passersby even resembled the girl I thought I had glimpsed on both occasions.  I waited an extra twenty minutes and then decided to join Bags and admit our respondent, for some reason, wasn¡¯t likely to make an appearance.

    I stepped out of the doorway at the same time as someone else from a location a couple of doors down to the left.  I held back and watched her hesitate and then started for the roadway.  She had an umbrella that partially blocked my view but I recognized her right away.  It was the girl we¡¯d been seeking and, more importantly, it was Pippa.

    ¡°Pippa!¡± I shouted toward her before she stepped off the curb.

    She was startled and tensed up but she did not turn to face me.

    ¡°Walk away Pink, just walk away,¡± she said emotionlessly while standing very still and without turning in my direction.

    ¡°That¡¯s the best you¡¯ve got to say to me after a year and a half?  Walk away?  Like you walked away from me?¡±  It had started to shower a little harder and it was so surreal to be having this conversation with her on a public street in the pouring rain.

    She whipped around and looked at me.  Unbelievably, she was more beautiful than I recalled.  Her hair had been trimmed in a short pixie cut and her face seemed a little fuller.  My heart was in my mouth.  Here was the girl I¡¯d loved matured into young womanhood and it was suddenly clear I hadn¡¯t been having visions of her¡­it was her.  In that moment I knew for a certainty I hadn¡¯t stopped loving her.

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair, Pink,¡± she said.  ¡°You know why I left.  I wasn¡¯t walking away from you.  I was walking away from me.¡±

    ¡°What does that even mean?¡± I asked.  I had found my voice again.

    ¡°I had to leave my life behind and you were part of that.  I¡¯m sorry Pink.  I can¡¯t do this again.¡±  She turned and started across the street.

    I couldn¡¯t let her go again.  There had to be something I could say to stop her.  Suddenly the little snippet of that Elvis song popped into my head.

    ¡°You''ve been gone away one year, and I have not forgotten dear, the love I had for you so long, is still here.¡±  I didn¡¯t try to sing it but all the words of that verse were accurate.

    Pippa slowly turned and came back to face me.  There might have been tears in her eyes or it might have been the rain.  The same was true of my own face.

    ¡°How do you know that song?¡± she asked quietly.

    ¡°Does it matter?  The words are my truth.  It¡¯s still here.¡±  I put my hand over my heart as an added gesture.  It was corny but it felt necessary.

    ¡°Did you place that ad in the student paper?¡±

    ¡°Not me exactly, I had help.  It¡¯s complicated.  Wait, my friend said I shouldn¡¯t use that word.¡±

    ¡°What word?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Complicated.  My friend told me everyone uses that word when they want to avoid answering something truthfully.¡±

    ¡°What are you trying to avoid answering, Pink?¡±

    That was a good question.  In fact, what was the other question I was avoiding?  I was certain I knew what it was.  Did I still love her?  That was the real question and one I both hoped she would ask and not ask.

    ¡°Can we go somewhere and talk Pippa?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Pink.  I sure as hell didn¡¯t expect to run into you today.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a coffee shop across the way.  Maybe we could just start with coffee.¡±

    ¡°The Old Grind?  Isn¡¯t that where the running girl was supposed to meet the person who placed the ad?  Who thought that one up?¡±

    ¡°His name is Kevin but everyone calls him Bags.  He was the one who was supposed to meet you.  I was to wait over here and see who showed up.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was doing,¡± Pippa replied.  ¡°I thought the person was probably going to be some kind of kook.  I was going to size him up and then decide if I wanted to meet him.¡±

    ¡°What do you say about that coffee?  We can just talk.  After all we¡¯ve been to each other then coffee seems pretty harmless.¡±

    Pippa looked around and then rocked a little back and forth on her heels. There was meaning in her hesitancy but I had long since avoided trying to define any true meaning when it came to Pippa.  Carlotta was a catchall for what I didn¡¯t understand.  Standing in the rain, watching a girl I had thought I would never see again, was torture.  How much of the Pippa I knew was in this new woman?  Was she more Pippa or more Carlotta or someone else entirely different?

    ¡°One coffee and one condition,¡± she offered.  ¡°You don¡¯t ask me about Quebec City.  I¡¯m not prepared to talk about it.¡±

    That was one topic for which I desperately needed answers but, like always, I had to play by her rules.

    ¡°I agree but you have to agree to my one condition.¡±

    Pippa looked a little distressed.  Who was I to start putting a condition on someone who just put a condition on me?

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she asked worriedly.

    ¡°You have to meet my friend Bags.  He¡¯s the reason why you and I are standing in the rain today debating coffee.¡±

    Pippa and I walked separately to The Old Grind.  Bags was still waiting patiently at his table and looked up anxiously when we came in.

    ¡°Jeff, she didn¡¯t show¡­¡± he began.  Then he looked past me and saw Pippa.

    ¡°Bags, this is our mystery girl.  Her name is Pippa.¡±

    Bags looked confused.  ¡°You mean Pippa as in your Pippa?¡±

    ¡°Well not exactly,¡± I replied.  ¡°Same name but I think an all-new version.¡±

    Pippa smiled.  It was a smile I hadn¡¯t seen in a long time.  Thinking back on my pub performance I thought of the new ending I had added and the words ¡®she reached out across the table in a coffee shop, held his hand, and quietly said goodbye.¡¯  That had been a fictional ending to my piece but I was afraid it might become prophecy.

    ¡°Pippa, this is my friend Kevin and the mastermind behind today¡¯s events.¡±

    She put out her hand and shook his.

    ¡°Bags to my friends and pretty girls,¡± he jested.

    ¡°Cut it out Bags.  Listen, you wouldn¡¯t mind taking off for a bit, would you?  I¡¯ve promised Pippa coffee with no strings attached.¡±

    ¡°One string attached,¡± she answered.

    Bags looked at both of us and then stood.  ¡°Of course, of course.  I¡¯ll see you later Jeff.  Pippa, it was nice to finally meet you.  Take notes Jeff, I¡¯ll want details.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Bags,¡± I said hopefully.  I really did hope there would be something to tell.  That was up to her.

    Bags left and Pippa and I ordered coffee and sat opposite each other.  We were quiet for a while as we sipped our coffees.

    ¡°Reminds me of sipping Pepsi together in your avocado house,¡± I said, breaking the silence.

    ¡°That was a long time ago, Pink.  Even the avocado house is gone now.¡±

    ¡°Really? What happened?¡± I asked.

    Pippa looked at her watch and then looked around the coffee shop.  There weren¡¯t a lot of customers in there.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I have time for all that.  It¡¯s a bit of a lengthy story.¡±

    ¡°Just give me the highlights then.  Give me something, Pippa, anything.¡±

    ¡°Jeff, what are you doing here?¡±  I thought maybe she was trying to avoid my request.

    ¡°You mean today, right now, or were you asking more in general?  I could ask you the same question.  What are you doing here Pippa?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to school at Trent for Business Administration.  There, that¡¯s my answer.  What¡¯s yours?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to Trent for a Bachelor of Arts focussing on English and Psychology.¡±

    An expression passed over her face like relief.  She began to relax.  ¡°Oh, I remember, you wanted to write or teach.¡±

    ¡°Something like that I said.  What about you?  What¡¯s Business Administration all about?¡±

    ¡°I want to run a business of my own someday.  I think I told you about it,¡± she said.

    I vaguely recalled her mentioning it once during the weeks following Roger¡¯s death and before she left me.

    ¡°I think I recall something.  Can I ask you, did you know I was going to school here, too?¡±

    Pippa took a moment to respond.  I wasn¡¯t sure why the hesitation.

    ¡°No, Pink, and if I did, I would have gone somewhere else.¡±

    Well, I had asked for it.  The answer was a little harsh but at least it was honest.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here either Pippa.  Frankly, I thought I¡¯d never see you again.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I guess we¡¯re done with the pleasantries, are we?¡±  She stiffened but she didn¡¯t get up to leave.

    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who would have gone to another school to avoid seeing me again.  What¡¯s that all about?  What did I do to you?¡±  It all came spilling out.  I wanted to show her I was angry and hurt even though I also thought it would push her away.

    ¡°And now we come back to the bigger question,¡± she said haughtily.  ¡°What are we doing here, Pink?¡±

    ¡°You tell me,¡± I snapped back.  ¡°You¡¯re the one with all the answers.  I haven¡¯t seen you for over a year and I have a million questions.¡±

    She stood up and said, ¡°I knew I shouldn¡¯t have come today.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you?¡± I asked in a loud whisper.  I wanted to shout it but no one else needed to know what was going on between us.  I didn¡¯t even know what was going on between us.  This wasn¡¯t how I¡¯d imagined our reunion.

    Pippa sat back down and leaned across the table.  This is where I thought she¡¯d take my hand and quietly say goodbye.

    ¡°Because I thought that ad would lead me to someone new,¡± she responded softly.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve made you angry Pink.  I guess I was looking for some kind of new adventure.  You know me, always looking for the next journey.¡±

    I took in a deep breath and then let out a controlled exhale.  I wasn¡¯t sure if this argument between us was anger or passion.  I had been struggling between wanting to leave and wanting to hold her again.  I wasn¡¯t sure what I wanted or what I had expected.  What if the running girl had turned out to be someone else?  Would I have been ready for that endeavour?  I had also wanted it to be Pippa but hadn¡¯t thought as far ahead as to what to do or say if it was.  There I was with that opportunity and I was blowing it.

    ¡°Hi, my name is Jeff Carter, thanks for replying to my ad and coming out on a rainy day.¡±  It was a bold move.  If we couldn¡¯t pick up where we had left off then could we start over?

    Pippa looked at me with confusion written all over her face.  She looked at my smile and extended hand.  She hesitated but then put her hand in mine and shook it.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Pippa Bailey.  I¡¯m the running girl.¡±  She was playing along.  I had to proceed with those terms.  I was excited and afraid all at the same time.  What if my tactic didn¡¯t work?  I had to chance it.  One thing was certain, Bags would never believe it.

    ¡°Do you always run late at night?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± she replied.  ¡°Wait, a friend of mine once told me he¡¯d been told you should never use the word complicated because it means you¡¯re trying to avoid answering something truthfully.  Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s part of a longer story.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got time.¡±  I had looked at my watch like she had earlier but mine was a more patient response.  I had thought the arguing in the street in the rain had been strange but this new conversation like two strangers meeting for the first time was even more unreal.

    ¡°What¡¯s your story, Jeff Carter?  You must have one, too.  I get the sense you¡¯re looking for something or maybe someone you¡¯ve lost.¡±  She hadn¡¯t let go of my hand since she¡¯d taken it after our new introduction.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.¡±  I placed my other hand over hers.

    Pippa placed her remaining hand on top of mine.  Fours hands were intertwined across the table.

    She gave both of my hands a squeeze and said ¡°you first."

 16. Jeffs Version

    Eighteen months earlier she had snuck into my house late at night and kissed me.  Everything after that and everything preceding that kiss was my storyline.  Sitting opposite Pippa and drinking coffee, I began to tell her the narrative I had created with the purpose of giving everything away.  Some she knew and some I expanded upon to fill in the gaps.  It was a more complete version of events while restoring the first-person narrative and detailing it to a new Pippa Bailey as if she hadn¡¯t known any of it.

    I retold our first meeting and how I had loved a girl named Pippa since the first time I saw her.  It was absurd to talk about Pippa as someone other than the person across from me.  It felt like detaching her from my personal history but it was also exhilarating to try and paint a picture of someone who meant so much to me; someone who was the same and yet somewhat different from this running girl.  I went through all the old details again like ¡®Vertigo¡¯ and Carlotta, the slap, the Harrier, Viva Las Vegas in the infield, other Elvis moments, and kisses at the Texaco.  I included Steve Wilson, even though I cringed at the mention of that name, as well as the first separation, my misplaced anger with Bastien, the Ogre tale, and finally Roger¡¯s death.  I hesitated about including the last detail but it was a necessity to everything that came after.

    ¡°She came to me in person a couple nights later.  It had been her voice I had heard two nights before.  Those had been her footprints in the grass.  She ran to me and put her arms around me.  She was shivering.  I hustled her inside into my room and wrapped a blanket around her.  I could see the tracks of many tears on her face she had tried to wipe away.  She told me she was cold and asked me to hold her. She was quiet for a long while before she finally lifted her head and kissed me.¡±

    ¡°I knew it,¡± she had said.

    ¡°Knew what?¡± I asked.  She was still huddled in the blanket and the feeling of her lips on mine lingered.  I asked myself why she might be there.  We hadn¡¯t spoken in months and my last words had been hostile as I had tossed my jersey at her feet.  What was behind her being there in my room less than a week after her brother¡¯s fatal accident?

    ¡°Knew that I would feel something,¡± she replied.  ¡°It¡¯s been a nightmare Pink.  I¡¯m not sure what I should be feeling.  Roger¡¯s gone and I¡¯ve shed all the tears I can.  I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever stop crying and when I did, I thought of you.¡±

    My arms were still around her and she was resting her head against my chest as she spoke.

    ¡°All I could think was I had to see you,¡± she continued.  ¡°I hate being at home.  Everything¡¯s raw and my parents are talking again.  It¡¯s no good, Pink, I had to get away from all that.  I know it¡¯s wrong but I¡¯ve never had to mourn anyone before.  Tell me what to do Pink.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said.  ¡°This is all so strange to me as well.  When I heard about Roger, my first thought was to be with you.  I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want that.¡±

    She looked at me and I could see tears beginning to form again.  I hugged her tighter and tried to think what to say or how I should feel.  I was concerned and worried and aroused all at the same time.  I had never held her that long and it had been quite a while since any physical touch had passed between us.

    ¡°Is it strange, Pink, we both thought of each other?  I thought you hated me.¡±

    ¡°I thought you hated me,¡± I responded.  ¡°Don¡¯t you recall, I was the ogre?¡±

    She tried to stifle a small laugh but her body shook slightly and I knew it was there.  Was it odd to laugh during a tender moment?  No odder, I thought, than her being there in my room during her grieving period.

    ¡°I never hated you Pink.  I¡¯ve been angry and disappointed but you moved on.  That¡¯s all I ever wanted for you. Now, I¡¯m not so sure.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°For all these months I wanted you back.  I kept telling myself that you hurt me.  I wanted to hurt you, too, and you know I said I would never do that again.  I¡¯m sorry I put you through all that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said, rubbing her back with a free hand.  ¡°Self-professed Ogre here, remember?¡±

    She was quiet again for a few minutes and I just held her.  I was afraid to move.  I didn¡¯t want to break the moment.

    ¡°Tell me what to do Pink.  I¡¯m lost and broken.  I know I shouldn¡¯t be here but when things were good with us, I always felt right.  I felt whole.  I want to feel that way again.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get there,¡± I said.  ¡°Right now, I think you need some sleep.  You can take the bed in my old room.  We¡¯ll figure out what to do after my parents have left for work in the morning.  We¡¯ll have to keep quiet until then.¡±

    ¡°Will you lay with me Pink?  I¡¯m afraid to be alone.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I should.  It wouldn¡¯t be right.¡±  Who was I kidding?  I knew it was wrong but my arousal was surging just holding her.

    ¡°Please, Pink, just until I fall asleep.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.  She wasn¡¯t twisting my arm.

    I took her to the bed in my old room and covered her up.  I lay on top of the blankets with my arm across her.  If she knew what kind of torture this was causing me, she didn¡¯t say.

    ¡°Once you¡¯re asleep I¡¯ll go back to my room but I¡¯ll leave the door open in case you need anything.¡±

    I don¡¯t know how long I lay there feeling her body moving up and down in time with her breathing.  Eventually, the rhythm slowed and I slipped out from her side and went to my own room.  I would have thought sleep would have evaded me but I hadn¡¯t slept well in days and with a new feeling of serenity I found myself drifting off sooner than I expected.

    Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke with the sensation of someone else in my bed.  I was half awake but when I felt her hands exploring me, I knew it was no fantasy.  I didn¡¯t speak.  I just turned to face her and saw the same contentment in her expression as I had been feeling.

    She had already removed her clothes before entering my bed and she worked fast to help remove mine.  No words were spoken.  The passionate kissing and fondling were language enough.  It was tender and quiet and awkward.  She¡¯d stop for long moments and then cup my face and kiss me.  We giggled and moaned and we shed tears.  I knew it had been wrong but it was what she wanted and I knew secretly it was what I had longed for.

    We fell asleep in each other¡¯s arms and I dreamed of her.  I never knew anything could be so wonderful.   I had never expected to be with her again yet there she was offering me a physical extension of her love.  I didn¡¯t question it.

    In the morning I woke to someone calling my name.  I realized it was my mother.  I had slept in and she was shouting down the stairs to warn me I would be late for school.

    Pippa stirred and sat up.

    ¡°It¡¯s my mother,¡± I whispered, ¡°she¡¯ll come down here if I don¡¯t go up for breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you stay home?¡± she asked.

    ¡°My dad¡¯s probably already left.  My mother usually leaves after I leave.  We can¡¯t risk it.  Stay here and be quiet.  I have a double lunch period today.  I¡¯ll come home before noon.  Help yourself to anything you want after my mother leaves.¡±

    Pippa grabbed me and pulled me down to kiss her.  We were both still naked and it was difficult to pull away from her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go!¡± I said into her ear.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to stay!¡± she said back into one of mine.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be found out.  Go back to sleep and I¡¯ll be back at noon.¡±

    She released me and showed me a little frown.  I threw on my pyjamas and grabbed some fresh clothes and went upstairs and had a cold shower.  I needed it.  I ate some breakfast quickly and dashed off to school.  I knew it would be tough to be away from her for even a few hours.

    I couldn¡¯t focus in class and I was sure the act of our lovemaking could be read in my face.  If it hadn¡¯t been for my shower, the scent of her on me would have been a true giveaway.

    My lunch period came and I was anxious to return home.  On my way out of school, I encountered Ben and Sandra.  They were among the last people I wanted to see at that moment.

    ¡°Hey Jeff, have you seen Pippa at all today?¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t in either of our shared classes this morning,¡± I replied.  At least that was truthful.

    ¡°Well, she left home last night and no one has seen her,¡± Sandra chimed in.  ¡°My aunt phoned our house first thing in a panic.¡±

    ¡°Have you checked with Bastien?¡±  I asked.  I tried to imply some sarcasm so they would think I was still mad at him.

    ¡°The guy¡¯s beside himself with worry,¡± Ben said.  ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s ever gotten over her.¡±

    I knew that feeling but at that moment I could have cared less about Bastien.  All I knew was I had to get back to Pippa.  She had come back to me and I wanted to make the most of this new time we had together.

    ¡°I¡¯m heading home for lunch.  If she¡¯s back in school this afternoon, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±  I didn¡¯t want to lie to either of them so I made safe statements on which I wouldn¡¯t have to follow through.  I knew that Pippa would not be back at school that afternoon.

    I ran home in record time.  I tried to enter the house casually so any eyes of prying neighbours would not suspect I had hurried home to a girl who shouldn¡¯t be there.  All of the questions I had about why she was in my house had disappeared with a focus on just finding her there again.

    She was still there.  I found her in my room dressed in a robe.  Her hair was damp and the skin of her face, neck, arms, and legs glistened from a recent shower.  She was sitting on my bed listening to the Elvis record I had wanted to give her for her Birthday.

    She looked up as I came in.

    ¡°Oh hi, Pink.  Is this the gift you had sent to me last year?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it has some Sinatra and Elvis on the second side.  I recalled you telling me about the television special and how you always wanted to hear them singing together.¡±

    ¡°You remembered that?  I had no idea what it was when Ben handed it to me at the drive-in.  I was too mad to even wonder.  I¡¯m sorry now I didn¡¯t open it.¡±

    ¡°No, Pippa.  You have nothing to be sorry about.  Everything was my fault.¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯re a little past apologies after last night,¡± she said.

    Pippa stood and came to me and put her arms around my neck and kissed me.  She released me and pulled me toward the bed while loosening herself from her robe.

    We made love again and it was a little less awkward and neither of us cried.  I couldn¡¯t believe it had happened a second time.  Hell, I couldn¡¯t even believe it had happened the first time.

    Our passion emptied my head with no other thoughts than of being with her in that way.  I didn¡¯t ask why and in some sense I didn¡¯t care.  We were together again in a more intimate relationship and I wanted to think of nothing else.

    We lay together quietly for a while afterwards when I realized I would soon have to head back for my last class of the day.

    ¡°We need to figure out what to do with you,¡± I said, brushing her hair from her face.

    ¡°I¡¯m content to just stay here forever.  I just want to be with you.  I don¡¯t care about anything else.¡±

    ¡°Ben and Sandra confronted me on my way out at lunch.  You¡¯re mother¡¯s worried about you.¡±

    ¡°What did you tell them?¡± she asked.

    ¡°What could I tell them? They asked if I had seen you and I said you weren¡¯t in any of your classes this morning.  I don¡¯t think they were suspicious but you really should think about going home.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t I stay here a little while longer?¡± she asked.

    ¡°How long were you thinking?  You have to go home sometime.  You should also think about returning to school as well.  You¡¯ve been off for a few days.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m grieving,¡± she replied.  I thought it was a funny way of grieving.

    ¡°My parents will be home this evening and I don¡¯t know what they¡¯d say if they found you here.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t go home Pink.  I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d say to my mother.  Anything I say these days sets her off.  She cries at the littlest of things.¡±

    ¡°Come on, Pippa, she¡¯s just lost her son.  She¡¯s going to need you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve just lost my brother!¡± she snapped.  ¡°I need you.¡±

    I looked at her and grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.  How was I going to help her?  Making love to this beautiful young woman couldn¡¯t possibly be aiding her in dealing with her loss.  As much as I was enjoying it, I knew I was only giving in to her and helping her to avoid dealing with Roger¡¯s death.

    ¡°You have me,¡± I said back to her.  ¡°We may have lost each other until you came to my house.  We got it all back last night.¡±

    ¡°Pink, say you¡¯ll love me forever.  I could face just about anything if you¡¯d say it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll love you forever.¡±  Her hair had fallen back across her face and I swept it back up again and kissed her.  ¡°I have to go.  Stay if you want to.  I¡¯ll figure something out.  Tomorrow¡¯s Saturday and maybe we can take the weekend and help you decide what to do.  I¡¯ll write out my number so you have it.  If you do decide to go home, call me later.¡±  It was odd that in all the time we knew each other, we¡¯d never communicated by phone.  Everything had been in person.

    I got dressed and left her a note with my number.  If she was still there after school, there¡¯d be a lot of explaining to my parents.  They had already been through enough with Rod and Rhonda.  I wasn¡¯t sure how they¡¯d react to finding their youngest son¡¯s ex-girlfriend living in their basement or on learning Pippa and I were sexually involved.  I wasn¡¯t keen on any of those lectures.

    The remainder of school that day was even less distracting than the morning had been.  I wanted to see Pippa again but having her still in my house would create even more problems.  I¡¯d gladly deal with those just to have our bodies pressed together once more.

    I didn¡¯t see Ben or Sandra again before the end of the day.  I hurried home to face the consequences but Pippa was gone when I got there.  She called me later to say she had returned to the avocado house.  I didn¡¯t ask for details and our call was very brief.

    ¡°I can¡¯t talk right now,¡± she whispered.  ¡°Can you come by later, around midnight?¡±

    Another late-night rendezvous in her carport?  It didn¡¯t sound very romantic and recalling my last visit there, I was filled with sad memories of our last estrangement.  Still, I thought, anything was better than not being with her.

    What would be the duration of this new reunion?  She had told me that for all these months she had wanted me back.  Was this real?  Was she being truthful?  I wasn¡¯t even sure she was thinking straight.  Maybe it was just a temporary diversion from death and remorse.  Could it even last?

    I was at her house on time.  It felt good to run down her street again.  I had wanted to do that for a long time but I had convinced myself it was wrong.  I had thought she was with Bastien and I was out of the picture for good.  What had happened with Bastien?  She hadn¡¯t mentioned him at all.  It wasn¡¯t until hearing of Roger¡¯s death from Ben that I was informed Pippa and Bastien were no longer together.  I couldn¡¯t bring myself to ask any of the questions that needed asking.  I just wanted the moment.  I didn¡¯t want to ruin everything by trying to reconcile the past with the present.

    I didn¡¯t see Pippa anywhere in the garage.  I thought about going around to her window when I eventually heard her whispering in the dark.

    ¡°In here, Pink.¡±

    It took me a moment to realize she was in the back seat of her mother¡¯s car.  She opened a door and beckoned me inside.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to take a chance on you coming around back.  My mother might hear.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked.  ¡°What did you tell your mother when you got home?¡±

    ¡°I just told her I¡¯d been walking around all night and most of the day.  You should have heard her.  I got all the bulletin points about what could happen to a young lady alone in the dark and how dare I worry her after all she¡¯s been through.¡±

    ¡°Did she suspect anything?  Maybe I shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°No, I think she believed me.  Do you know she even called my father to see if I¡¯d gone there?  As if I¡¯d ever do that.¡±

    ¡°How is your mother doing?¡±  I thought I should at least show some concern.

    ¡°It¡¯s been hard on her Pink.  She even wanted to start boxing up Roger¡¯s stuff today.  It¡¯s not that he ever had much here but I can¡¯t believe she¡¯s ready to move on that quickly.  I went into his room with her and looked around but she didn¡¯t have the heart to follow through.  She was crying too much.  It was a good thing I was there because I found these.¡±

    Pippa held up a box of condoms.  It was a SHIELDS brand dozen pack.  I knew what they were but I¡¯d never seen them before.

    ¡°Whoa, your brother had those in his room?  Where do you think they came from?¡±

    ¡°Probably my father bought them for him but I don¡¯t know.   Maybe Roger bought them himself.  If my mother had found them she¡¯d have had a conniption.¡±

    ¡°Did he have a girlfriend?¡±  I still knew little about her brother even after his death.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so but that damn motorcycle was like a magnet to them.  He told me once he¡¯d taken other girls for a ride when he wasn¡¯t taking me¡­¡±  Pippa¡¯s voice trailed off.  The memory was still too fresh.

    I hugged her and we remained quiet for a while.

    ¡°I think you better take these Pink,¡± she eventually said, handing me the box.

    ¡°What am I going to do with them?¡±  It was out of my mouth before I even thought about it.  Pippa immediately gave me the suggestive look for the idea I should have had.

    Without any more words, we both undressed and made love in the back of her mother¡¯s car.  It was even more awkward than our first time.  There wasn¡¯t much room and we had to keep adjusting ourselves.  We struggled and giggled over the condom.  We had to be even quieter than we had been at my house.  We eventually figured it out.  Afterwards, I looked at the pack and wondered how long they would last at the rate we were going.

    ¡°Tell me this isn¡¯t wrong, Pink.¡±

    We lay together as best we could.  One of my legs was balanced off the seat and my foot was braced against the front passenger seat so I wouldn¡¯t fall backwards.  Her question threw me off guard.  Was it wrong?  I didn¡¯t know what was wrong.  I hadn¡¯t been the initiator of this new activity but certainly hadn¡¯t balked against it.  I just wanted to be with her and the sex seemed like a great perk to having her back in my life.

    ¡°I love you,¡± I replied.  ¡°I know that¡¯s not wrong.  You also said you feel right with me.  That¡¯s something.¡±

    ¡°I love you, too, Pink.  It does feel right doesn¡¯t it?¡±  It wasn¡¯t a question.  It sounded more like a confirmation.

    What else could I say?  I couldn¡¯t tell her she was misguided in loving me or making love to me.  I was sure I was being as logical as I could but I was basing everything on what I felt when I was with her and not what I knew.  I still had oh so many questions but none of them came to mind when I was with her.

    ¡°It is right but where do we go from here?¡±  That was the only question I could gather in my thoughts.

    ¡°The front seat?¡± she asked.  ¡°Do you want to try it there?  I¡¯m game if you are.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.  We¡¯ve still got lives to lead outside your carport.  What do we do next?¡±

    She gave me that look once more and lying naked with her, I was ready again so we christened the front passenger seat.  We avoided the driver¡¯s side because I wasn¡¯t keen on either of us having a steering wheel imprint in our backsides or the horn going off and waking her mother.

    ¡°Marry me, Pink,¡± she said when we were done.

    I didn¡¯t think she was serious.  Part of me thought she was joking and the other part of me was worried that the carton of condoms wouldn¡¯t last forever.  I was trying to imagine having to buy the next pack myself.  That was an embarrassment I thought all teenage boys would want to avoid.

    ¡°Did you hear me Pink?¡±  She gave me a little nudge as if she thought I was asleep.  I had been sitting there with her balanced in my lap with my eyes closed but I hadn¡¯t dozed off.  I was just content.

    ¡°I heard you.  You asked me to marry you.  Don¡¯t you think I should be the one to be asking?¡±

    ¡°So ask already,¡± she said and then shook me.

    ¡°You must be kidding, Pippa.  We can¡¯t get married.  We¡¯re too young.¡±

    ¡°Why not?  My parents weren¡¯t much older when they got married.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.I wanted to say ¡°and look how that turned out¡± but I caught myself before making that mistake.  I decided instead to reflect back her proposal as her attempt at humour.

    ¡°Are you worried about me making an honest woman out of you?¡±  Guys don¡¯t always think with their brains.  I wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Thanks a lot,¡± she said flipping herself off of me and into the other seat.  ¡°I was being serious.¡±

    I turned to face her and grabbed at her hand.  She pulled it away.

    ¡°Okay, this is me being serious.  Tell me why you want to get married?¡±

    Pippa had been staring straight ahead but she turned to me and there were tears in her eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re correct,¡± she said softly, ¡°I did say I feel right with you.  I want to keep on feeling right.  Is that so bad?  If you and I were married we could ignore everyone and everything.  That¡¯s all I want.¡±

    When she put it that way, it didn¡¯t seem so half-baked.

    ¡°I love you, Pippa, I¡¯ll do anything you want.¡±

    ¡°But you have to want it too, Pink.  It can¡¯t just be me.¡±

    ¡°I want you, Pippa.  That¡¯s all I ever wanted.  If you think us getting married is the solution to our happiness then I¡¯ll find a way to make that dream come true.  I¡¯ll follow that dream wherever that dream leads.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to follow that dream to find the love I need,¡± she said in response.  Thank you, Elvis.

    We agreed to think on the marriage option.  We tidied up the car as best we could and tucked the used condoms down inside the garbage pail at the back of the garage.  I had to open the bag and move some trash around to get to the bottom.  I didn¡¯t want them to be found.

    I walked home with the moon hovering over me as if it were some grand inquisitor.  I knew what it would ask me if it could.  The main line of inquiry would be on what I thought I was doing.  I had no immediate answers for that.

    Just like Pippa, I knew it felt right when I was with her but there¡¯d be something akin to regret or shame afterwards.  Maybe those words weren¡¯t correct but it was a nagging feeling I was taking advantage of Pippa¡¯s vulnerability.  I didn¡¯t understand any of it but she¡¯d give me that look and I knew what it meant to her.  I¡¯d seen it before in the infield at Collegiate after she kissed me.  It was the ¡®Screw my mother and screw them all¡¯ look.  I understood just how ironic those words were given our newfound physical relationship.

    The next day she called me.

    ¡°Can I come over?¡± she asked.

    My mother hadn¡¯t questioned me the first time Pippa had called me the day before but there was an expression on her face the second time she had to announce a girl was calling for me.  What else did my mother suspect?  Had Pippa left any evidence of her overnight stay?  I had to be careful.  When I snuck back in the previous night, I carefully hid the box of condoms in the toe of one of my sneakers.  I was sure they wouldn¡¯t be discovered there.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to check into that,¡± I replied.  I wasn¡¯t sure how to send her a signal about my mother¡¯s curiosity.

    ¡°Was that your mother who answered?  Is she home today?¡±

    ¡°Well yes, it is Saturday and there¡¯s that.  Could I drop the material off at your house?¡±  Maybe my mother¡¯s suspicions would be thrown off if I made out the conversation was school related.

    ¡°Oh, I get it,¡± Pippa said, catching on.  ¡°My mother¡¯s going out later.  Can you come here?  I¡¯ll call you when she¡¯s leaving.¡±

    ¡°Just the English notes?  Sure, I can do that.  I hope you can read my handwriting.  Why don¡¯t you call me later and let me know a good time to drop them off.¡±  I hung up the phone.  I hadn¡¯t taken any acting classes so I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d sounded convincing to my mother.

    ¡°That was a girl from school.  She lost her brother last week so she¡¯s been out of school and now she¡¯s trying to get notes so she can catch up.¡±  That sounded plausible with some basis in truth.

    ¡°My goodness,¡± my mother said, ¡°is that the one I read about in the paper?  I thought the boy went to a different school?¡±  Was she trying to unravel my story?

    ¡°He did.  His sister goes to our school.  Her cousin¡¯s going out with Ben from the Texaco.  Ben gave her my number because she and I share some classes together.¡±

    ¡°The poor dear, you call her right back and have her come over here.  I¡¯ll fix you both some lunch.  She probably needs a break from her own home.  Do you want me to go pick her up?¡±

    My mother had gone in the thoroughly opposite direction.  Her concern for someone else¡¯s troubles had completely assuaged her motherly concern for her own child.  I decided I¡¯d take that over further grilling regarding the girl on the other end of the telephone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that, mom.  I hardly know her.  She¡¯s just a girl in my class.¡±  It was surprising how it didn¡¯t seem to bother me much I was lying to my mother.

    ¡°Nonsense, she¡¯s going through something horrible.  She needs a friend right now.  It also wouldn¡¯t hurt you to meet a nice girl.  Look what it¡¯s done for your brother.¡±

    I didn¡¯t think my mother had been all that approving of Rod and Rhonda¡¯s relationship.  Had Rod really changed?  Mothers didn¡¯t always see their sons the way their brothers saw them.  Sons also didn¡¯t see things the way mothers saw them.  Her preoccupation over Pippa and I was a little unnerving.  If I didn¡¯t do exactly as my mother asked then her suspicions would go from uncertainty to surety in nothing flat.

    ¡°Alright mother, whatever you say, ¡°I acquiesced.  ¡°She¡¯s going to call me later.  I¡¯ll walk the homework over to her and then I¡¯ll invite her back.  I¡¯m making no promises.¡±

    ¡°You just let me know either way.  Your father and I will go out for a couple of hours so you can have some quiet time.  She doesn¡¯t need more prying eyes.  She¡¯s probably had enough of that.¡±

    I kept it that way with my mother.  Later, when I came back with Pippa, my parents were as good as their word and left us alone.

    We made love again in my room when my parents went out.  We were quick because I wasn¡¯t sure if my mother¡¯s sense of timing would be true to form or if she¡¯d start to question herself and end up returning early.  We dressed afterwards and then went upstairs to talk in the living room in case my parents came home sooner than expected.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about the marriage thing, Pink,¡± Pippa said over her Pepsi.

    ¡°I have too.¡±  The truth was I was frightened of the idea.  How could I tell her that?  We weren¡¯t ready.  I wasn¡¯t ready.  How could we live?  Where would we live?

    ¡°I still want to marry you, Pink, but I can¡¯t see how we can.  My mother would never let me.  It¡¯s too soon.  She can¡¯t lose a daughter so quickly after losing her son.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about that, too,¡± I replied.  ¡°We don¡¯t want to be selfish.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not selfish.  You and I deserve to be happy.  We deserve to be together.  It¡¯s just everything else is getting in the way.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and we¡¯re back to keeping everything a secret.¡±  I didn¡¯t want to grumble but my on-again, off-again, on-again relationship with Pippa always seemed to be clandestine affairs.  I wasn¡¯t sure if we¡¯d ever get past that.

    ¡°I know Pink, I know.  It¡¯s just as hard for me.  I want to shout our relationship from the rooftops but it¡¯s not the right time.¡±

    ¡°Then I think getting married is out of the question for now.  It¡¯s not like we could keep that a secret.¡±

    Pippa slid closer to me on the sofa.  She grabbed my hands in hers and looked into my eyes.

    ¡°What if, Pink, what if?¡±

    ¡°What if what?¡± I had to ask.  What was she thinking?

    ¡°What if we got married and we kept it a secret?¡±

    My quizzical expression was all I could offer in the form of a reply.  What she had just said made even less sense than her proposal of marriage.  How could we possibly keep a wedding a secret?

    ¡°Listen Pink, I love you and you love me.  The wedding is just cementing our future together.  We get married and we don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°But what about living together and all that?¡±  Question number one.  I had more.

    ¡°You and I will be off to school next year.  That¡¯s when we move in together.  The marriage will bind us to one another until then.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to think.  This was impractical on all kinds of levels.  I wanted to marry her and be with her every day.  Her suggestion was to postpone everything until a future date.  How was I to respond to that?

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it bad enough to have a secret relationship let alone a secret marriage?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me your answer now Pink.  Say you¡¯ll think about it.¡±  She obviously was sensing my hesitation.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±  I had been asking myself how I should respond to her proposition and she had given me the suggestion.  It was stalling for time but it was all I could do.  I would think about it.

    After Pippa left, it wasn¡¯t long before my parents returned home.

    ¡°How did you make out?¡± my mother asked me.  I almost thought she had asked me if we did make out.  I wasn¡¯t sure if she was deliberately trying to trip me up or not.

    ¡°Oh fine,¡± I answered.  ¡°I fell in love with her and now we¡¯re planning to get married.  We¡¯ll probably keep it a secret though so don¡¯t plan on an invite.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a riot, you know that Jeff?  You don¡¯t have to share with me if you don¡¯t want.¡±  What was it with the women in my life giving me the answers that I wanted to give them?

    ¡°It was fine, mom.  She¡¯s still hurting.  I¡¯m not sure what to do to help her.¡±  At least I wasn¡¯t lying again to my mother.

    ¡°You listen.  You be a friend.  You do whatever you can and more importantly, you try and do what she asks of you.¡±

    I guess I had my answer.  I think I already knew that.  I loved Pippa and I wanted to marry her.  Did it really matter when we got married?  If we got married and kept it secret then we¡¯d still be married later on when it counted.  I wasn¡¯t concerned about someday having to break it to our families.  This was for us.  We¡¯d have to let everything else wait.

    On Monday Pippa was back in school.  I put a note in her locker telling her my answer was yes.  We met at lunchtime at my house and consummated the proposal.  Four condoms down and only eight left.

    ¡°I want a June wedding,¡± she said to me as we walked back to school.

    ¡°Why June?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  Isn¡¯t every girl supposed to want a June wedding?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not like every girl,¡± I replied.

    ¡°Well, then we can have a prolonged honeymoon over the summer.¡±

    ¡°A secret honeymoon, you mean,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve already started our honeymoon, Pink.  Everything¡¯s a little backwards but I don¡¯t mind.¡±

    I didn¡¯t either.

    I slipped in the back way to school and let her enter the front.  We kept our new relationship very low-key.  We didn¡¯t tell anyone.  Ben and Sandra were excluded and at school, Pippa and I did what we could to avoid suspicion.  Notes were inserted in each other¡¯s lockers if we needed to communicate or to suggest a rendezvous time and location.

    We met one day in a corner booth at the burger restaurant where she had worked summers.  She hadn¡¯t worked there since the previous year.  We knew there would be no prying eyes on us.

    ¡°If we¡¯re really going to do this,¡± Pippa began, ¡°we need to have a very low-key wedding.  I¡¯ve done a little research and we can go to the Justice of the Peace at the municipal court.  All we need to do is get a marriage license and we¡¯re both eighteen so that won¡¯t be a problem.  Oh, and we¡¯ll need two witnesses for the ceremony.¡±

    ¡°Well that botches it,¡± I said.  ¡°If we¡¯re keeping this a true secret then there¡¯s no one we can ask.¡±

    ¡°There must be somebody, Pink.  Don¡¯t you know anyone?¡±  I was wondering why this was being left up to me.

    ¡°I might know a guy,¡± I said after giving it a few minutes thought.  It was a mistrustful statement to make.  Didn¡¯t all underhanded or underworld statements start with ¡®I know a guy¡¯?

    ¡°Great, Pink, who?¡±

    ¡°For that, I¡¯ll have to visit a shit-hole.¡±

    I knew my idea was just as irrational as the whole secret wedding notion.  We were trying to avoid letting our families know and there I was suggesting my own brother.  I didn¡¯t know what made me think Rod would even be open to contributing to our deception but then he¡¯d been a bit radical when he defied my parents and moved in with Rhonda.  I explained to Pippa my idea but insisted I talk to him first.

    ¡°I¡¯m going with you,¡± Pippa stated.

    ¡°Not on your life,¡± I insisted.

    ¡°This is my wedding too.  We need two witnesses so maybe I can work on your brother¡¯s girlfriend and she can work on him.¡±

    It made sense.  It was one of the few things that did.  I didn¡¯t really share her optimism, however, because I knew my brother and I was almost certain of his response.

    ¡°Are you two out of your ever-loving minds?¡± Rod exclaimed when we explained our situation.  Yes, that was about the response I expected.  It might have been toned down for the two ladies present.

    ¡°Wait a minute, honey,¡± Rhonda countered.  ¡°Both our parents probably thought the same about you and I when we said we wanted to move in together.  Remember, it wasn¡¯t so long ago you and I were just as determined to take this plunge.¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure if she meant cohabiting or moving into the shit-hole.

    The apartment wasn¡¯t as bad as I remembered.  The new paint smell was gone and it was evident that the place had undergone a thorough cleaning.  There were little homey touches as well I attributed to Rhonda.  The outside of the building was a different story altogether.

    ¡°They¡¯re just kids.  How could they know what they want?¡±  I had imagined Rod would be a tough sell and I was sorry Pippa was there to witness it.

    ¡°You¡¯re only a year older than me, big brother.  Who¡¯s to say you¡¯re the mature one?¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡±  Rhonda was also going to be a force to reckon with.  ¡°Why don¡¯t Pippa and I sit down and discuss this while you two take a walk?  And leave your knives behind.¡±

    I knew what she meant.

    When we got outside, Rod started his questioning.

    ¡°Jeff, I¡¯ve heard some dumb ideas but this takes the cake.  I thought you weren¡¯t even with this girl anymore.  Wasn¡¯t she dating some French guy?

    ¡°Not French, French Canadian.  Besides, that¡¯s all over.  Say, how did you know about him and her?¡±

    ¡°I hear things.  Now you¡¯re with her again and you want to get married and keep it a secret?  What¡¯s that all about?¡±

    I wanted to say it was none of his business but I needed an ally and telling him off wasn¡¯t going to help the current situation.  I decided it was time to bring him up to speed regarding Pippa.

    Rod and I walked and talked for about twenty minutes.  I told him some things but left out the sex details.  I needed him in my corner supporting me on not cheering that accomplishment.

    ¡°Listen, kid,¡± Rod said after I¡¯d laid it all out to him.  ¡°You¡¯ve got it bad and that ain¡¯t good.  I told you once I had my future ahead of me and I wasn¡¯t going to start it off saddled down with a girlfriend.  Now, look at me.  I guess I¡¯m one to speak.¡±

    ¡°You seem happy.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± he replied.

    ¡°So am I and I want to stay that way.  Right now, I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to make Pippa happy.¡±  I told him what our mother had told me but didn¡¯t give Rod any of the background of why Pippa had been at our house.

    ¡°Mom said that?  Maybe she¡¯s become a little more progressive since Rhonda and I moved in together.  Do you think mom¡¯s right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.  I don¡¯t even know how long this latest thing between Pippa and I is going to last but I¡¯ll do anything necessary to keep it going.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to give you my blessing or not.  One thing¡¯s for sure, if I back you up, you¡¯re going to owe me big time.¡±

    ¡°Are you keeping score?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not the little stuff but for something like this I might.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s head back,¡± I said.  ¡°Do what you want.  I¡¯m going to marry that girl no matter what it takes.¡±

    ¡°I think I might know how you feel.¡±  I believed I had a better understanding of my brother after our conversation.  Rhonda¡¯s influence had definitely mellowed him.

    When Rod and I returned, Rhonda and Pippa had already worked things out.

    ¡°Rod, we¡¯re doing this.  Pippa and I had a good talk and I understand everything.  You and I have to stand for them.¡±

    ¡°I understand, too,¡± he said.  ¡°No debate here.  Just give us the date.  We¡¯ll be there.¡±

    I was amazed at how well that had gone.  It had started off with Rod¡¯s objections but now both he and Rhonda had some newfound understanding of my circumstances with Pippa.  Part of me wished they¡¯d explain it all to me.

    I was flying blind when it came to Pippa.  Blind was a good word.  I knew all the old adages.  Love is blind.  The blind leading the blind.  That was how I felt and I worried Pippa was leading me over a cliff.  I still had vivid memories of another time where I had followed her blindly only to have guns drawn at me outside a local bank.  I had to tread carefully.

    I had glimpsed the shining future before and been disappointed.  Maybe that¡¯s when it had started.  I had glimpsed the future I wanted with Pippa and it had shone so brightly it blinded me to everything else.  I had lost that future once and I was afraid of losing it again.

    Fear seemed to be the only thing driving me.  I had to get back on course to that future.  With that in mind, inside a short period of time I had committed myself to a secret marriage, had finessed my brother to our side, and, in a roundabout way, had received guidance, if not actual permission, from my mother.

    Pippa and I had leapt a major hurdle by gaining an alliance with my brother and his girlfriend.  I almost wished they had said no.  It wasn¡¯t cold feet or second thoughts.  It was having had no thoughts at all.  My mother had advised me to listen, be a friend, and try and do what Pippa asked of me.  I knew that wasn¡¯t informed advice on my mother¡¯s behalf but it was a solid recommendation.  I just wished I could put my trust in it.

    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t want to marry Pippa but staying married until we could have a chance to be together full-time was a long way off.  I was worried about what could happen in the meantime.  I¡¯d screwed up before and she had left me before.  We didn¡¯t have good track records.  If things fell apart during a secret marriage it would cost a lot to get out of it.  Legal issues aside, it might ruin us for relationships with others in the future.  A relationship with anyone else was not anything I had given thought to.  I had wanted Pippa for so long I couldn¡¯t imagine any other alternative.  It had taken a long time to get over her when she¡¯d dumped me but now the price of keeping her might be beyond my means.

    I had a lot of sleepless nights stressing over doing the right thing.  I also had a number of sleepless nights when Pippa and I would sneak around to be with each other.  I watched the count in the condom pack get lower and lower.

    ¡°You¡¯re awfully quiet,¡± Pippa asked me one night after we had slept together again in my room.  There¡¯d been a back-and-forth between the avocado house and mine and it had been my turn to host.

    ¡°Oh, just thinking things over,¡± I replied.  ¡°There are lots of things to consider.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°The distant future, I guess.  It¡¯ll be a long time from our wedding to us living together.  That¡¯s just for starters.¡±

    ¡°What else?¡±  She didn¡¯t seem worried and I was trying hard not to give her any cause for concern.

    ¡°Oh, wondering about University and beyond.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that too,¡± she said.  ¡°Have you thought out what you want to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you my dream if you tell me yours.¡±  She was lying in the crook of my arm and we were both staring at the ceiling.  Was it apropos that we weren¡¯t looking at each other when we were discussing our futures?

    ¡°This.  This right here is my dream,¡± she said.  You and I together forever.¡±

    ¡°And outside of that?¡±

    ¡°Who cares!  This is enough for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to write or teach or both.¡±  I wanted to show her I could have practical visions when it came down to it.

    ¡°Oh, I can just see it.  I¡¯ll be a writer¡¯s widow while you¡¯re locked away writing your great novel.¡±

    ¡°The story of us.  I thought you wanted me to write it one day?¡±

    ¡°Our story¡¯s not done yet.  This is just the prologue.¡±  She turned and kissed me on the cheek.

    I wanted to believe this was just the beginning of something greater but I couldn¡¯t see past the moment.  Lying with her only grounded me in the time we were together.  It distracted from everything else.

    ¡°You must want something else Pippa; something other than me.  There must be a dream you just keep for yourself?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it.  I¡¯d look to go into business for myself.  Maybe I could manage my own shop.¡±

    ¡°That sounds nice.  What would that involve?¡±

    ¡°Maybe business school or business courses.  We should look for a school that can offer us both what we need.¡±

    It was a nice thought but again that was a ways out.  I had to focus on the immediate and a wedding I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted.

    There wasn¡¯t much we could plan for a civil wedding.  There would be Pippa and I along with Rod and Rhonda.  There would be no other guests and no kind of celebration.  When you¡¯re trying to keep it from everybody then there¡¯s nothing to sweat over.

    We both signed out of school early to go and get the marriage license.  It was simpler than I thought.  We both had to provide identification that proved we were of legal age and we paid a fee.  I had thought there would be more to it.  It didn¡¯t feel any more complicated than getting a fishing license or registering a dog.  It didn¡¯t seem much to get excited over.

    My anxiety regarding the actual wedding was slow to subside.  Pippa¡¯s excitement, to the contrary, only continued to increase.  We had set our date for a Friday in the middle of June.  Pippa and I would individually sign out of school early and Rod would find coverage for the afternoon at the Texaco.  Rhonda had finished her first year of college and was also working part-time at the Texaco on weekends.  With everything lining up it seemed like it was a sign that the marriage was meant to be.  I just needed to get on board with it.

    Pippa had insisted we write our own vows.  It was the only personal touch she thought we could add to a municipal union.  I had agreed wholeheartedly because I had a talent for words but my mind struggled how to say what was in my heart without betraying the doubt in my mind.

    I tried not to interpret the vows as an assignment.  It was more than school work and required effort.  It couldn¡¯t be left until the night before to conjure up something that would secure only a mediocre grade.  This would be how I would convince myself.

    I considered all of the things I loved about Pippa but, when it came down to it, my thoughts were of what I had thought I had lost when we weren¡¯t together.  This was the basis of my current fear.  I was afraid of being alone once more without her.  I didn¡¯t know if I could do that again.

    These vows had to include a statement about who this person was to me.  What about this person was leading me to make this forever promise?  I¡¯d have to detail what the promise was I would be making.  It had to include an expression of my feelings and thoughts.  I would need to wrap my words with a look towards our uncertain future and offer something reassuring to her so she wouldn¡¯t sense I had doubts.  That was a tall order.

    I started with what I knew to be true.  I loved her.  It was difficult to think beyond that.  We¡¯d had some history and some moments but how could I describe what was in that first kiss or in our lovemaking?  There was passion but that was only a physical declaration and extension of how we felt.  How could I describe the devastation I experienced when I thought I had lost all of that?  Maybe, I thought, that was the place to start.  I had to somehow assign words to what had come back to me when Pippa had returned.  I knew that would be difficult because some of all of that was indescribable.  It wouldn¡¯t make sense to other people but then I realized it only had to make sense to the two of us.

    I wrote what I knew.  It had to be beyond feelings.  I was making an assurance to someone based on never wanting to know another future that didn¡¯t include her.  Each word was hard fought because it had to be perfect.  I wasn¡¯t going to get a second chance at it.

    ¡°You are beyond words.  What I feel is beyond description.  The one real truth is I have loved you since the first time I saw you and that has never changed.  That is the core of our story.  I look at you and nothing else matters.  We are right.  Those three simple words have as much meaning to me as I Love You.  And I do love you.  I may be confused or anxious at times and question everything around me but I¡¯m grounded in the moments I am with you.  You look at me through eyes of total faith and a doubtless commitment to our uncertain futures.  I believe anything is imaginable with you and I look forward to a marriage full of those possibilities.  This moment, this minute, is a privilege, I promise to never forget for the rest of our days.  All that is knowable are these vows and a trust that we never know moments without each other.¡±

    I¡¯d like to think all my worries immediately evaporated with the writing of those vows but it took some time.  I had to read them over carefully and edit and fine-tune them.  I had to practice them to myself and believe in every syllable.  The end was the convincing measure.  I didn¡¯t want to know a moment apart from her.  That was difficult with the realization our marriage would be in paper form only until we could really be together.  I¡¯d written of her ¡®eyes of total faith¡¯ when, in reality, we were making a leap of faith we¡¯d still be a couple in a year.

    I began to recite the vows a few times a day every day like a chant.  I couldn¡¯t share them with Pippa because she wanted them to be fresh on the day of our wedding.  That I could do.  Over and over again I rehearsed them and with repetition, I began to accept what I had written.  Pippa had said she felt right with me.  There was nothing more honest and abiding than feeling right with someone.  I felt it too.  Moments apart were spent thinking of the next moments together.  Little by little I stopped worrying.  It was back to ¡®Dr. Strangelove¡¯ again or what I had referred to as ¡®A Strange Love or:  How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Girl¡¯.

    With only a couple weeks left before our wedding day, I had managed enough enthusiasm to be palpable.  I was ready.  Pippa and I had curtailed our lovemaking as well in anticipation of the day.  We¡¯d find a way to consummate our marriage that evening and besides my SHIELDS stock had dwindled to one remaining.  It had been a busy time for us since she had handed them over to me.

    I could sense the pre-wedding jitters in Pippa.  Her excitement didn¡¯t seem to quite match mine but when I questioned her on it she told it me was just anticipation getting the better of her.  She¡¯d say reassuring things and kiss me when we had moments alone.  There wasn¡¯t anything more important to me than our happiness.  I knew she felt that way, too.   She had to.  What was the alternative?

    The week of our wedding arrived and everything was set.  I had honed my vows and committed them to memory.  Pippa and I were giving each other space.  I¡¯d see her in the halls and she was looking pale but she¡¯d whisper ¡°remember I love you¡± whenever she passed.  She¡¯d started a month before with countdown notes every day slipped in my locker.  The beginning of the actual week they stopped.  I left my own note for her asking about their absence.  Her only reply was ¡°we don¡¯t need them.¡±

    I didn¡¯t sleep well the night before our wedding date.  I don¡¯t think it was concern or worry but I lay awake well into the night half expecting a visit from Pippa.  I was up on time though and back into my regular pre-school routine so my mother would not be suspicious.  The plan was to come home at lunch and connect with Rod and Rhonda and then go off to the courthouse to meet up with Pippa for our two o¡¯clock nuptials.

    I don¡¯t know how I got through the morning.  I tried to pay attention in class but it was difficult.  Pippa was not at school but I expected as much.  She was trying to keep her mother in the dark as well and a big secret keeping like our wedding required finesse planning.  Her mother had gone back to work but she had moved over to a night shift recently because she found it easier to sleep during the day after working.  I hoped that Pippa would have no problems getting away on time.

    At noon I went home and changed into a suit.  We may have been planning for a secret wedding but both Pippa and I believed it would be nice to be dressed somewhat formally for the first day of our married life.  I couldn¡¯t wait to see what Pippa would wear.  She hadn¡¯t discussed that detail with me.  My stomach was in knots with expectation.

    I insisted my brother and his girlfriend and I be early because I wanted to be sure everything would run smoothly.  It was agonizing at the courthouse waiting for the appointed time and for Pippa to make her appearance.  I kept checking the time on my watch and then asking Rod what time he had.  It was getting closer and closer to the appointed hour and still no Pippa.

    I began to despair.  With only five minutes to go, I assigned myself to the fate that Pippa was not coming.  I should have expected it.  The signs had been there.  She¡¯d been moody mixed with bouts of quiet.  This was typical Carlotta rising.

    ¡°Here she is!¡± Rhonda exclaimed.

    I looked and it was true.  She came up the steps of the courthouse resplendent in a beautiful daffodil yellow dress.  Her hair was done up with a clip holding it in back.  My heart had started when I realized she was there and stopped again when I beheld her beauty.  If I¡¯d had any doubts they¡¯d flown.  I ran to hold her and tell her how beautiful she was.

    ¡°Bailey and Carter?¡± someone called out behind me.

    I turned and answered ¡°here¡± and then turned back to Pippa.  It was then that I saw the tears staining her exquisitely made-up face.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±  I asked.  I hoped they were tears of joy.

    ¡°Jeff, we have to go in now,¡± Rod urged.

    ¡°Give me a minute!¡± I shouted.

    ¡°Pippa, what¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked again.

    She grabbed my hands and tried to speak but words seemed to catch in her throat.

    ¡°Pink, I¡­¡±

    ¡°Bailey and Carter?¡±  That person was calling us again.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± I said to Pippa trying to be reassuring.  ¡°I know how you feel.  I¡¯m a jumbled mess on the inside.  We can get through this.¡±

    ¡°Jeff, I can¡¯t do this.  I can¡¯t marry you.¡±

    Here was another slap.  Pink was gone and she was standing there telling me she couldn¡¯t marry me.  What did she mean?  This couldn¡¯t be happening.

    ¡°Pippa, I don¡¯t understand.  Why can¡¯t you marry me?¡±

    ¡°Jeff,¡± Rod called again.  ¡°It¡¯s now or never!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s never,¡± Pippa called back.  She let go of my hands and turned and ran down the stairs.  I ran after her.

    ¡°Pippa!  Pippa!¡± I called after her.  I managed to catch her at the bottom of the stairs.  ¡°This can¡¯t be happening,¡± I said to her.  ¡°Tell me this isn¡¯t happening.¡±

    ¡°Let me go, Jeff.  It¡¯s no good.  I¡¯m no good.¡±

    ¡°I love you.  We can figure this out.  Just tell me why you don¡¯t want to marry me.¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t love you,¡± she said in a voice breaking barely above a whisper.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that,¡± I said.  ¡°You¡¯ve told me over and over again you love me.¡±

    ¡°Then I love you too much.  Either way, it¡¯s no good.¡±  She turned away and started to run.  And in that moment I knew I could not run after her.  I didn¡¯t have it in me.  She¡¯d done it to me again.  Carlotta had won out.

    Suddenly Rod and Rhonda were there asking me what happened.

    ¡°Pippa¡¯s passing and I have to let her go.¡±  I stuck my hands dejectedly in my pocket and found the ring that was there.  It was a simple gold band I had purchased myself.  For a secret wedding, it felt like it was enough.  I was to have handed it to Rod who¡¯d have given it back to me at the appropriate time in the ceremony.

    ¡°Here you take it,¡± I said, offering him the ring.  ¡°Maybe you and Rhonda can use it.  Consider my debt paid to you paid in full.¡±

 17. Pippas Passage

    ¡°You know the rest,¡± I said to her.  The coffee shop was empty except for us.  ¡°Do you want another one?¡±

    ¡°Maybe a small one.¡±

    I bought her what she wanted and asked for water for myself.  I wasn¡¯t being frugal but my mouth was parched from telling her my version of events.

    ¡°Are you ready for this?¡±  I asked.  I was anticipating a tale of missing truths and explanations.  I¡¯d left nothing out of mine.  She and Bags were the only people I had told the unabridged account.

    ¡°Are you?¡± she asked.

    Where had I heard this conversation before of me asking if she was ready and her asking me the same?  It took me a moment but I recalled it was exactly what we had spoken to each other just before the Harrier.  If I¡¯d known then that I¡¯d still be running the race of my lifetime just a few years later, would I have responded differently?  Maybe I should have told her back then that no, I wasn¡¯t ready.  I was never ready when it came to Pippa.  I still wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t change most of what you retold,¡± she began, ¡°but maybe there¡¯s missing pieces I can offer that will fill in some of the gaps in your understanding.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what that meant.  I thought I understood pretty well.  She had left me twice; once at the altar and each time it had been harder and harder to rebound.  Her so-called ¡®missing pieces¡¯ had better be good.  I thought I had formed a pretty good picture of her.  I wondered if her sections would change my view.

    ¡°I had started at a new school,¡± she began.  ¡°I had been a runner at my old school and there I was across town running away from something. There had been an incident with my father.  I don¡¯t want to talk about that right now.  Maybe later on it will have significance but the gist is that my mother had left my father and she and my brother Roger and I had to live at my grandparents while I finished the year at my old school.  It was brutal.  There were stupid rumours flying around about Roger and I.  None of it was true but we both had to see a school counsellor.  I couldn¡¯t wait until school ended.  All those faces of people I thought were my friends and the hushed whispers whenever I passed.

    Eventually, my mother rented this avocado greenhouse.  It was small but beautiful in a way.  It was an oasis from everything else and somewhere I thought I could make a new start.  Roger was with us for a while but then he baled and went back to my father.  Maybe his counselling sessions revealed something to him that made him want to abandon me and return to a father who had been the source of the problem.  I hated Roger for a long time after that.

    That fall I went to Central.  I was trying to find who I was.  Like I said, I¡¯d been a runner at my previous school and oh, I was a huge Elvis fan.  I belonged to a mail fan club called the ¡®Brides of Elvis.¡¯  You know, I always thought I would marry Elvis but then he up and died that summer I was in transition; someone else who had abandoned me.

    The only person I knew at my new school was my cousin Sandra.  We were close growing up because we were the same age.  She doted on me at school and encouraged me in everything.  I didn¡¯t want to just fade into the background so I put myself forward at every chance.  I was building a new image and that¡¯s what I wanted others to see.

    I decided the quickest way to get everyone¡¯s attention was to run for Student Body President that fall.  Sandra helped me garner the hundred signatures that I needed to enter the election.  That¡¯s how I met this boy.

    What should I say about him?  Well, I thought at first he was nothing special.  We were in some classes together and I saw him around.  He didn¡¯t stand out any more than any other guy.  To tell you the truth, he was one of those people in the background I had told myself I didn¡¯t want to be.

    He showed up one day after school when Sandra and I were preparing posters for my campaign.  I thought it was sort of creepy because I¡¯d never given him any encouragement and yet there he was offering to help.  Who does that?  Sandra gave me a little look as if to say let¡¯s get rid of him but I didn¡¯t want to hurt his feelings.  He had this soulful look in his eyes like he was lost.  Well, I guess it was the eyes that played on me because I let him stay.

    I should tell you this funny story about him.  His name was Jeff Carter and when he showed up to help Sandra and I, he thought I had called him ¡®Pink¡¯.  I hadn¡¯t because I was talking to Sandra about some colouring for the posters but he says he doesn¡¯t mind being called ¡®Pink¡¯.  Again, I ask you, who does that?  So I let it slide and agreed to call him ¡®Pink¡¯.  After he left, Sandra and I had a good laugh about it and she told me to keep on calling him ¡®Pink¡¯ because maybe he would take the hint we weren¡¯t taking him seriously and then he¡¯d leave us alone.

    I didn¡¯t win the election.  Some fool guy from an upper class won.  His big promise was to put new picnic tables in the smoking area.  We all knew it was so students could put their hands under the table and not be seen rolling joints.  He was kind of cute with all curly blonde hair and a wardrobe like a surfer.  I kind of admired him myself.  I think I might have voted for him, too.

    Well this Jeff guy, sorry, this Pink guy keeps hanging around.  It would have seemed pathetic if it wasn¡¯t for those eyes.  Soulful like I said and he wasn¡¯t bad looking.  He was also smart.  He read Browning and told me about a poem called Pippa Passes.  I checked out a volume of Browning from the library and I must have read that poem a hundred times.  It¡¯s about a girl who shares my name and gladdens the hearts of everyone she passes.  I guess that¡¯s another reason why I liked Pink.  He had pegged me to a fictional character with qualities I wanted others to see in me.

    I always had people hanging around me at school.  I was the new girl and I guess they all wanted to get to know me.  Eventually, the group was whittled down until there was just Sandra and this guy Pink.  I liked him.  I didn¡¯t know why at the time but maybe it was because he saw something in me no one else could see.  I think he saw my vulnerability.  On the contrary, he was rock solid.  Nothing seemed to faze him.  He was dependable.  Oh, and those eyes.  I found myself wondering from time to time what else lay behind those eyes.

    Pink and I soon became friends.  Even Sandra gave us a little space because she sensed there was something building between us.  I didn¡¯t recognize it at the time.  I thought he was only just a good friend. But the truth was I started to look forward to seeing him every day.

    We became cohorts for lack of a better word.  He liked to listen to me and when he talked, I listened.  We were in this film class together that first year.  We studied films and we made films.  That¡¯s where I was introduced to a film directed by Alfred Hitchcock called ¡®Vertigo¡¯.  There¡¯s this fictional character in it named Carlotta Valdez.  She wasn¡¯t a real character.  She was a historical character who seemed to possess a woman named Madeleine.  I identified with this character because I felt haunted sometimes and when I felt sad or disconnected, I referred to this feeling as my Carlotta.  Pink understood it too.  He was more like the Scottie character who was faithful to Madeleine.  Both Scottie and Pink were rock solid and dependable.

    I didn¡¯t realize it at the time but my Carlotta was my way of not dealing with my own past.  I had been trying to be a new person but I felt haunted by everything I had lost after the incident with my father.  Being Carlotta was when I gave in to those feelings.  I even formed a band with my cousin and another girl from school.  We were The Carlottas and we gave our one and only performance at a school talent show.  I wrote a song with specific lyrics about love and sorrow and not being understood.  I was still trying to find my new self and was still trying to put myself out there.  Pink called it daring.  I think I bit his head off over that.  I shouldn¡¯t have done that.  I guess I had been disappointed that he didn¡¯t realize it was as much for him as it was for the rest of the school.  I wanted him to know how I was feeling with this Carlotta inside me.

    It was around that time Roger surprised me with his new motorcycle.  I should have told him to get rid of it but it was cool and I was happy for him.  He had shown up at school at the end of the day and took me for a ride.  I was excited to be with him and to spend some time with him.  I thought maybe he would consider moving back in with my mother and I but when I asked him, he said he was leaving everything in the past and I had to find a way to put it all behind me.

    I was furious with Roger but the more I thought about it that night the more I was angry with my father.  None of this was my fault and he was clearly trying to buy Roger off.  All of the old issues came to the surface along with Carlotta.  I skipped off the next morning from school because I was angry and confused and hurt.  I only went to school in the afternoon because I didn¡¯t want to have to explain anything to my mother.  It was in my Carlotta state when I encountered Pink at the end of the day.

    I was upset and I thought Pink would understand.  I think he tried to but I was only looking for complete understanding and agreement and I was in the mood to lash out if I didn¡¯t get it.  So when Pink didn¡¯t recognize what I expected of him, I became angry and slapped him.  He walked away and I just stood there in the realization I had just hurt the one person I generally cared about and who cared about me.

    Pink was not at school the next day.  It was probably just as well because I didn¡¯t know what to do to make things better.  I should have gone after him when it happened.  I should have apologized right away and explained everything to him.  I wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d have understood because I wasn¡¯t ready for him to know my history.

    I spent the weekend thinking about Pink and how I¡¯d hurt him.  I asked myself over and over why it mattered so much to me how he felt.  I had been telling myself he was just a friend but I also knew that his devotion to me meant he had deeper feelings for me.  I began to question my own feelings for him.  I realized I was in love with him.  This presented an even bigger problem for me.  How was I going to fix this?  How would I let him know how much I cared for him without tipping my hand?

    I came up with this crazy plan to have him run The Harrier with me.  It was an annual marathon that was open to every student but it was really a fishing expedition for new talent for the track team.  I wasn¡¯t interested in the whole running aspect again because that was part of my old life at my previous school.  I didn¡¯t even know at the time if Pink had any running talent.  He¡¯d never mentioned it to me before so I assumed he wasn¡¯t the athletic type.  I thought that if he agreed to run The Harrier with me then we¡¯d have a chance in a more private setting to talk things out.

    Well, that wasn¡¯t enough for me.  I had a need to share more with Pink and let him know my history and why I had reacted the way I did.  I thought if I could get him to run The Harrier then maybe he¡¯d be ready to meet with me and hear my secrets.

    On the day of The Harrier, I gave him a slip of paper with the word ¡®Run¡¯ on it.  On the back, I had written my address and a time for the following Saturday.  I didn¡¯t want to give him a chance to see the other side so I handed him the paper during the race and then I started to run.  I knew it would take a lot for him to keep up with me.

    I was surprised how well Pink ran The Harrier.  He chased after me and kept up the pace I set.  I had set up a little incentive because I had learned that The Harrier route would go right past our avocado house.  I had attached a bristol-board sign with pink letters spelling out Run, Pink, Run.  I knew that when he eventually read the other side of the paper he¡¯d realize the house with the sign out front was where I was going to meet him the following Saturday.

    Both Pink and I finished in the top ten for The Harrier.  We were approached by track Coaches and invited to join the girls¡¯ and guys¡¯ track teams.  I turned down the offer but for some fool reason, Pink decided to join only to spite his Coach.  I never really understood Pink¡¯s motivation to run but I supported him in it.

    Our meeting at the avocado house was memorable because it was the first time I¡¯d been alone with a boy.  My mother was out or I¡¯d have never had the nerve to invite Pink.  It was nice.  We talked and I shared my history with him.  I told him about my Elvis obsession as well.  He was very patient with me and I was so nervous to have him there.  I had all these feelings inside me and I wanted to kiss him but I didn¡¯t dare.  I knew he liked me but I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for anything physical.  I think I had kissed him on the cheek once at school after he had complimented me or something but the thought of kissing him there in my room was frightening.

    I was starting to have conflicting feelings about Pink because I didn¡¯t know if he cared for me the same way I cared for him.  I decided to let things play out casually.  I didn¡¯t give him any encouragement because I was afraid of my own feelings.  I didn¡¯t know how to let anyone in.  It¡¯s one thing to share your history and secrets but being intimate with anyone on that level was a worrisome next step.

    I decided I would just be there for him like Pink had been for me.  It helped me to relax just to think about someone else for a change.  I was happier after I had opened up to Pink.  We spent more time together at school and I showed up to his track practices to cheer him on.  I was still under a curfew with my mother.  She was being overprotective since the incident with my father.  She expected me home at a certain time and if she even thought I was interested in a boy then she¡¯d have blown her top.  I just told my mother I was with Sandra and we were cheering on our school team in anticipation of the All City tournament.

    Pink became more and more dedicated to his running when he wasn¡¯t with me.  He told me about running the track at school in his spare time and he made a friend named Ben who was also on the track team.  The pair of them had been selected to participate in the All City and specifically in a long relay.  I wanted to go but the tournament was going to be held at Collegiate, my old school.  I was mortified at the thought of going to support Pink and possibly running into some of my old classmates.  I hadn¡¯t forgotten how I had been treated the previous year and I didn¡¯t want to have to face that again.

    The day of the tournament caused me considerable anguish.  I knew I should be there for Pink but I agonized over having to deal with Collegiate students I had known and possibly not getting home on time.  I had disappointed Pink when I told him I wouldn¡¯t be coming and even though he told me he understood, I also knew how important me being there was to him.  In the end, I went home at lunch, grabbed my guitar and headed to the tournament and hoped I would be on time for Pink¡¯s race.

    Oh yes, I should tell you that I had been in the habit of bringing my guitar to Pink¡¯s practices and accompanying his running with strains of Elvis.  We had this little secret thing about the song ¡®Follow That Dream¡¯ but I wanted to do something more.  Riding the bus to Collegiate I came up with what I thought would be the perfect song if only I¡¯d get there before he ran his race.

    Talk about timing!  When I got off the bus I ran to the track at Collegiate and Pink had just started his quarter-mile lap.  I had worked myself up to focus on nothing else and I ran into the infield and started playing and singing ¡®Viva Las Vegas.¡¯  It was one of the fastest Elvis songs I knew how to play.  You should have heard everyone yell at me as I started.  I wasn''t sure if they were cheering me, cheering the runners, or yelling for me to get the hell out of there.

    You should have seen Pink run.  I couldn¡¯t have loved him more at that moment.  Love can make you do stupid things and what I was doing ranked up there with the most imaginable craziness!  I didn¡¯t care.  I loved that boy.  He had stuck by me and I was going to show him how much I cared by not only showing up but by singing my heart out.

    After Pink finished his lap, he ran into the infield to meet me.  I was in his arms in a shot and explaining to him I didn¡¯t care what anyone else thought.  I was there for him.  I gave him the biggest and longest kiss I could.  There was even more cheering.  I was pretty sure it wasn¡¯t for the remaining athletes.  If he didn¡¯t realize I loved him before that kiss then he had to know after.

    I became separated from Pink with all the commotion at the end of the race.  I also had to get home before my mother left for work.  I didn¡¯t get a chance to say anything else to him and I knew the kiss would leave him with more questions than answers.  The next morning I met him at his locker and gave him another kiss.  We didn¡¯t say I love you to each other but I was sure he knew how I felt.

    We spent the rest of that month at school as a couple but we tried not to be openly affectionate with one another in public.  Our private moments were limited as well as I always had to be home on time to keep my mother happy and keep her from becoming suspicious.

    That summer Pink and I both lucked out because we had jobs across the road from each other.  I worked in a burger restaurant and Pink worked at the Texaco across the street.  I rode my bicycle home after every shift and it was easy for me to stop by the Texaco at the end of my day because Pink was just starting his.  We¡¯d talk through the little window and hold hands for a minute or, if we were daring, we¡¯d meet at the back of the gas station and steal a kiss.

    This went on most of the summer and I know that Pink was frustrated with our limited time together.  One time, he even came by my house around midnight and we met in my garage.  We kissed and I think it was the first time I told him I loved him.  It was crazy but I was so happy that I couldn¡¯t possibly foresee any problems.

    My eighteenth birthday was that August and Pink had come up with this wild idea of us somehow spending time with each other by going to the drive-in.  He even roped in his friend Ben and my cousin Sandra.  Ben was the driver among us four and had access to a car.  It was simply all hush-hush as far as my mother was concerned.  She thought Ben and Sandra were a couple and they were treating me to an evening at the movies.  Pink was going to be my secret date and my mother was to know nothing about it.

    That¡¯s when everything fell apart.  I didn¡¯t know part of Pink¡¯s off-season training included running down my street.  Apparently, he would run the Harrier route to keep in shape and hopefully to encounter me.  One day he came across my mother and panicked when she invited him in and he gave her the fake name of Steve Wilson.  He didn¡¯t tell me about any of this but when Ben and Sandra and I tried to get permission for me to go to the drive-in, my mother suggested I invite along this Steve Wilson.

    I was confused so I reached out to Pink and he came by for another midnight meeting at my house.  That¡¯s when he let me know how it all happened and how he came to be Steve Wilson to my mother.  I was hurt and angry and I dumped him then and there.

    I kept asking myself how could someone I loved do something like that to me?  In my mind, Pink¡¯s behaviour was similar to the betrayal of innocence I felt with my father.  I couldn¡¯t trust Pink and that hurt.  I didn¡¯t want anything more to do with him.  We didn¡¯t speak for a long time after that.

    Pink didn¡¯t know it but I had seriously considered changing schools again.  I couldn¡¯t go back to Collegiate but there had to be another school where I could start over again.  The only thing that prevented me from following through was I would have had to explain to my mother it was because I was trying to avoid a boy I had been dating when I wasn¡¯t supposed to be dating at all.

    I didn¡¯t know how I was supposed to feel.  Most of the time I was numb.  I kept questioning why Pink could do what he did.  If I had really thought about it I could probably have justified his actions.  He was as tired of sneaking around as I was.  He wanted a transparent relationship.  I couldn¡¯t see it then but I understood it later on.

    The return to school was significant for one other thing.  That was the year I met Bastien.  He was a dreamy exchange student from Quebec City.  Every girl had a crush on him.  I was no exception.  Don¡¯t get me wrong because there was nothing wrong with Pink¡¯s looks but that dark hair and that accent made Bastien like catnip.  I was still stinging from everything with Pink so I thought throwing myself into another relationship would be the distraction I needed.

    I didn¡¯t love Bastien but I convinced myself I could love him.  He was self-assured and a little full of himself but I thought I could change that.  I pursued him like nobody¡¯s business.  I couldn¡¯t tell my mother about him either but being with Bastien would have the added bonus of making Pink jealous.  Bastien was also a runner so I encouraged him to go out for track because that would be something else that would irritate Pink.  It was really immature but I couldn¡¯t think straight when it came to Pink.

    The thing about Pink was he was my first real relationship.  I might have had crushes before him but he was the first boy I knew I loved.  Maybe if I didn¡¯t have this Carlotta inside me I might have reacted differently.  I had shared my secrets with him and then he went and created a secret persona where he interacted with my mother.  I didn¡¯t know how I could forgive him for that.  I wanted to but I was so invested in getting back at him that it blinded me to what I really wanted which was getting back with him.

    At one point I tried to get even with Pink by trying to convince him to be nice to Bastien.  There was a fall track tournament and both of them were training for the same event.  I would go to practices to encourage Bastien and to watch Pink fume.  I knew I was pitting them against each other but I didn¡¯t really see any harm in it.  Pink started to refer to Bastien as ¡®Bastard¡¯ but he didn¡¯t think I knew.  I tried to confront Pink about it but he wouldn¡¯t let it go.  He said the only reason he didn¡¯t like Bastien was because I did.  That both frightened me and exhilarated me at the same time.  I have to say it was nice to have two people fighting over me.

    There was this one time I was so daring that I decided to walk Pink home and try to convince him to bow out of the competition.  I knew I couldn¡¯t directly ask him to do such a thing but I played on his jealousy.  I told him some nonsense about wanting him to move on and I was the person I wanted to be when I was with Bastien.  None of that was true.  I didn¡¯t like the person I was becoming.  I was only with Bastien because I couldn¡¯t be with Pink.  My own stupid pride and sense of inadequacies prevented me from forgiving Pink.  He¡¯d only done what he¡¯d done because he wanted to be with me.  He was trying to find a way to help me solve the problem with my mother¡¯s protectiveness and he¡¯d done something stupid.  It wasn¡¯t like I hadn¡¯t done something stupid.  My being with Bastien was as overtly stupid as you get.

    Pink offered this deal to me that if Bastien beat him in the upcoming tournament then he¡¯d let me be with Bastien without any interference.  Pink really hadn¡¯t offered any interference up to then.  He didn¡¯t like me being with Bastien but he didn¡¯t do anything about it.  I didn¡¯t turn down the deal nor did I accept it.  I think I might have goaded Pink into making that arrangement.  I was too angry with him to disagree but secretly I hoped Pink would win but also wanted Bastien to win if only to teach Pink a lesson.  Don¡¯t ask me what that lesson was because I was making it up as I went along.

    I worked with Bastien on his training.  I became his coach.  I knew Pink¡¯s style so I offered little suggestions to Bastien.  I didn¡¯t think Bastien had a chance of winning but he¡¯d put on a pretty good show.  I felt stuck because I wanted both to win and neither to win.  My heart and head were fighting against each other and I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d do if either was the winner.

    What do you do when you¡¯re trapped with the wrong person?  That happened to me.  Bastien won.  I¡¯m not sure if I trained him too well or if Pink let him win.  Pink was angry with me after the race and he even gave up running.  I felt just awful.  If he lost the race because of me or if he gave up deliberately, the result was the same and it tore him up.  We didn¡¯t talk for almost the remainder of the school year.

    I was with Bastien full-time after that.  I hadn¡¯t told him about Pink¡¯s deal and I tried to make it seem like I wasn¡¯t settling for the consolation prize.  We were affectionate together when others were around but it was the same situation I had encountered with Pink as far as my mother was concerned.  I couldn¡¯t tell her about Bastien.  There was no private time.  I knew Bastien was just as frustrated as Pink had been the previous summer but that was okay.  I knew I was with the wrong guy but I didn¡¯t know how to make things better with Pink.  I only hoped that Bastien would go back to Quebec City and we could end our little affair without too much fuss.

    Seeing Pink at school and not being with him was torture.  We weren¡¯t even friends.  We were nothing to each other.  I knew I had hurt him and I had promised myself I would never do that again after that time I had slapped him.  I was a muddle of confusion inside.  I had to keep playing the part of a doting girlfriend with Bastien but he wasn¡¯t like Pink.  Pink understood me and up until then, he hadn¡¯t judged me.  He accepted me as I was; troubled history, Carlotta, and all.  Eventually, I cut Bastien free.  I gave him the old it¡¯s not you, it¡¯s me speech.  That was true.  It was me.  Like I said, I didn¡¯t like who I had become.  I had to figure out how to get back to being centred.  My transition would come about as the result of a tumultuous and tragic point in my life.

    In the early spring of the following year, I lost my brother Roger.  It was a devastating accident with his motorcycle.  My family was a mess.  I was a mess.  All of us were looking for someone to blame.  My parents began to rely on each other again and that messed me up even more.

    At Roger¡¯s funeral, I caught a glimpse of Bastien and Pink sitting together at the back.  My heart broke, even more, to see them there together.  They were there for me.  Two guys I had hurt had come out to show me they cared while I was hurting.  I longed to run to them and accept their support.  It wasn¡¯t appropriate at that time but I couldn¡¯t focus on my own grief.  I wanted to be with someone else but not with just anyone else.  I wanted to be with Pink.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Home was awful.  My mother was crying constantly and I had run out of tears.  I had cried so much that I thought I would never stop.  I had to find a way to push through the mourning and become whole again.  Everything had been chaos for days.  My brother was gone and I felt responsible.  I thought if my family hadn¡¯t split up then Roger wouldn¡¯t have gone off to live with my father and there never would have even been a motorcycle.  It was twisted logic but it held onto me and I couldn¡¯t shake it.

    I ultimately built up enough nerve to go see Pink.  My mother was keeping me even closer after Roger¡¯s death so I had to wait until she¡¯d gone to bed before I could sneak out.  I tried unsuccessfully for two nights to rouse Pink. On the third night, I went back to his house after midnight and rattled for him at his window.  He came outside and secreted me into his house.  I can¡¯t explain it but I felt right being there with him.  I knew my place should have been with my mother during that time but I didn¡¯t think I was really helping her.  I couldn¡¯t deal with the loss in the same way as her.  I needed to be with someone who was detached from all of that.  I needed to be with someone who wanted to be with me.

    It¡¯s difficult to describe what came over me at Pink¡¯s house.  He held me and comforted me and the intimacy was overpowering.  It shouldn¡¯t have happened but I needed him to love me in a physical way and take my mind off all my pain.  I knew he would never initiate it so I waited until he was asleep and then I removed my clothes and joined him in his bed.  It was beautiful and gentle and nerve-wracking all at the same time.  Neither of us knew what we were doing but we made out alright.  I cried and he cried.  To be honest I think mine were tears of relief.  I wasn¡¯t feeling sad anymore and I loved him so much right then that nothing else mattered.

    We fell asleep in each other¡¯s arms and I hid out in his house the next morning when he went to school.  I had never known that lovemaking could be such a release.  Despite the awkwardness, I had never felt so close to another person.  Kissing was one thing but when I gave myself fully to Pink, I felt whole or complete.  It¡¯s hard to describe.  It was a need I didn¡¯t know I had.  Pink didn¡¯t say a word the whole time.  I think he sensed I was hurting and he wanted to help that go away.  He was the perfect partner for my first time¡­and my second time.

    Pink came home early that day and we made love again.  Being with him was like serenity.  Nothing else mattered.  I just wanted to stay with him forever.  I had loved Pink and I had sent him away.  All I knew was that I couldn¡¯t lose him again.  I couldn¡¯t go back to feeling how I had felt over the past few days.  Roger¡¯s death had created a hole in my core and I needed Pink to help me heal.  It was insane and overpowering.

    Pink was the level-headed one between us.  He loved me and wanted to please me but he knew I had to go home sometime.  When he went back to school, I went home.  I stopped at a drugstore on the way home and bought a box of condoms.  I wanted to continue to be physical with Pink but we needed to take precautions.  I would later tell him I found the condoms in my brother¡¯s room.  It was a convincing lie I needed him to believe.  I had to go home and deal with my mother and I made up the story about having to go through Roger¡¯s stuff.  I wanted him to see how vulnerable I still was.  My mother believed I had been out walking around all night.  At least her lecture was centred on my story and the horrors of what could happen to a young woman at night.  I wanted to set her straight but I think it would have made it worse if she¡¯d learned her daughter was sexually active.

    That night Pink came over and we made love twice in my mother¡¯s car.  I couldn¡¯t help myself.  I had rediscovered Pink¡¯s love for me at the same time I discovered the joy of sex.  The distraction of making love was like a tonic.  I needed it to keep my mind clear but at the same time, it was perverting my thought process.  I couldn¡¯t view things clearly.  My thoughts were constantly of Pink and being with him.  I even asked him to marry me.

    I was serious about us getting married.  It made all the sense in the world to me at the time.  I couldn¡¯t see beyond the moments we were together and I didn¡¯t want to know a time without him.  It was a wild suggestion but I was afraid of losing him again.  I thought if we got married then it would bind him to me and we¡¯d be together always.

    Pink was uncertain about the marriage issue.  His main concern was that I wanted to keep it a secret.  My idea was that we would be husband and wife although we were living apart.  I imagined that after a year we¡¯d be off to University and we could move in with each other and then maybe break the news to our parents.  I certainly wasn¡¯t in favour of letting my mother know I was in any kind of relationship at that time.  I was supposed to be mourning and I was in no way acting like Roger¡¯s death had affected me.

    I went to work on Pink.  I had to make him want to marry me.  I sensed his hesitation and I¡¯d lie awake at night wondering if he was slipping away from me.  We continued to make love when we could and I would hold him so tight and think to myself that I would never let him go.  Slowly but surely I began to wear him down to sharing my opinion.

    I wanted a June wedding so that gave us a couple of months to plan.  I tried to take any burdens off Pink and I did all the planning.  We would marry around the middle of June at a civil service.  All we needed to do was to get a marriage license and find a couple of people to act as witnesses.  The first part was easy.  We both showed up and paid a fee and we had a license.  Pink wasn¡¯t all that enthused about it.  He felt there should have been more to it.  I decided we should consummate the event like we would our wedding.  Pink didn¡¯t object to that.

    It took Pink to come up with two people who would stand up for us at the ceremony.  With a secret wedding, there was no one I knew who we could ask.  I couldn¡¯t take any chances that word of our plan would get back to my mother.  Pink thought we could ask his brother and his girlfriend but Pink was not really enthusiastic about it.  I had seen his brother Rod around the school before but he didn¡¯t return the previous fall.  He was managing the Texaco while his girlfriend was off at school.  I didn¡¯t even know that much.  Pink and I had been separated for most of the school year.  Pink explained everything and when I learned that his brother had defied his parents when he moved in with his girlfriend Rhonda then I thought maybe they would become our allies.

    Pink¡¯s brother was immediately against the idea.  He thought we were too young and too foolish to know what we were doing.  It was only after his girlfriend intervened that we were able to plead our case.  I remember that she suggested that Pink and his brother take a walk while Rhonda and I discussed the situation.  I liked her right away.  I could see she was going to be open to at least hearing me out.

    ¡°A secret wedding, eh?¡± Rhonda asked me after we were alone.  ¡°That¡¯s certainly a new one on me.  I thought Rod and I moving in with each other was bad enough on both our families but this is going to be a tough thing to put across.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why we have to keep it a secret,¡± I replied.  ¡°It¡¯s kind of hard to explain.¡±

    ¡°Try me,¡± she said.  ¡°I made a decision that wasn¡¯t so popular.  I think I had to work harder on Rod just to convince him that moving in together was a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it!  Sometimes I think Pink¡¯s wavering on the whole wedding idea.  That¡¯s why I want to marry him.  I can¡¯t lose him, too.¡±

    Rhonda looked at me but I think she got my drift.

    ¡°I¡¯m not judging, you¡¯ve lost your brother and you¡¯re spiralling off trying to become grounded again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.  How did you know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve sat in on a few psychology classes.  Early child care is as much about psychology as it is behaviour.  Don¡¯t tell Rod but I¡¯ve tried a few methods on him to get him to come around to my way of thinking on some things.  That¡¯s just a secret between just us girls.¡±

    I liked her.  Did I say that already?  Well, I did.  She¡¯d observed me for only a few minutes and she¡¯d figured me out.  In another time I thought she could probably help me with my other problems.  I was looking forward to someday being sisters-in-law.

    ¡°Sometimes I think if I can¡¯t be with Pink then it would be like me dying.  He¡¯s so solid.  I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without him.¡±

    ¡°And you think marrying him is the best course of action?  Are you sure that¡¯s what Jeff wants?"

    ¡°He has to.  I know he¡¯s had second and third thoughts.  So have I, but when it¡¯s right it¡¯s right.  That¡¯s the hard part to explain.  I know Pink understands or we wouldn¡¯t be here tonight.¡±

    ¡°Hear me out for a minute,¡± Rhonda said.  ¡°I¡¯m not objecting to anything you¡¯ve said but you haven¡¯t really told me why you just can¡¯t wait a year.  Why the rush?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen how fragile things have been in the past with Pink.  We¡¯ve both done things to hurt each other.  I think I was the champion of that and I¡¯m not proud of it.  What if we wait and I do something to drive him away?  What if he leaves me?  If we¡¯re married then he¡¯s more likely to forgive me or be committed to working through things.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s some logic in that but I¡¯m living with one of the Carter boys and he can be stubborn when it comes to getting his way.  He¡¯s also loving and devoted and I couldn¡¯t see my life without him.  If this is what you want then Rod and I will be your witnesses.  Leave Rod to me.  Like I said, I have a way of getting him to come around to my way of thinking.  Just do me one favour.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Make sure this is also what Jeff wants.¡±

    When Pink and his brother got back it was sealed.  His brother was on our side and I knew we could count on them to be there for us.

    Pink seemed more in tune with my thoughts after meeting with his brother.  He also began to share in my enthusiasm.  At school, we kept our distance from one another so others wouldn¡¯t become suspicious.  I thought that maybe after we returned for our final year in the fall we could start posing more as a couple.  It would give me time to explain things to my mother and the blow wouldn¡¯t be so bad when we eventually did tell her that Pink and I were married.

    As Pink¡¯s eagerness to become my husband increased, mine to become his wife started to stall.  I couldn¡¯t help thinking of Rhonda¡¯s words.  Was this what Pink wanted?  How could I be sure?  He¡¯d look at me with those eyes and all I could see was his love for me.  Was that enough to start a wedded life on; even a secret one?

    Over the next month, I was conflicted between knowing what I wanted and wondering what was best for Pink.  I did love him.  There was no doubt about that.  I also knew Pink would do whatever he thought was necessary to keep me happy.  Was that the same as a full commitment from him?  So, when I began to doubt him, I began to doubt myself.  This had all moved fairly fast.  One minute we¡¯re making love and the next I¡¯m practically proposing to him.  Well not practically, I did propose to him.  That was my eagerness to secure his future to mine.

    That was where I began to see the problem in my motivation.  I wanted to secure his future to mine.  I hadn¡¯t given any thought to what Pink¡¯s future might be except it had to be with me.  What if feeling right with Pink was not the same as being right for Pink?  After all, I had hurt him on more than one occasion and even after I had told myself I¡¯d never do that again.  What if that pattern continued?

    Pink knew I had issues and we both joked about it being the Carlotta version of me but was I really prepared to subject Pink to that as his wife?  I didn¡¯t really have any experience in that area and my own mother wasn¡¯t a good model for me.  She had left her husband on the word of her daughter but then turned around and tried to control every aspect of her daughter¡¯s life.  Maybe she had been the one to drive Roger back to my father.  Everything was so confusing.

    Finally, June rolled around and there were only a couple of weeks before our marriage ceremony.  Pink seemed incredibly happy and I was worried about spoiling that happiness.  I had tried to convince myself that my original idea of us being married was still valid.  I loved him and I wanted to be with him.  He loved me and he had accepted the idea of us being married.  That was another thing I began to question.  Had I convinced Pink to do something against his better judgment?  I thought back on something Rhonda had told me.  She had said Rod could be stubborn when it came to getting his way but she had a way of getting him to come around to her way of thinking.  Is that what I had done?  Had I plied Pink with sex and convoluted thinking until he gave in?

    Around that time my parents began to talk about reconciliation.  I couldn¡¯t believe it.  My mother knew what had happened that night with him.  How could she forgive that?  Is that what marriage was all about?  Did you give in to things because you were only focused on your own happiness?  That drove home the question whether I was pushing this marriage idea for both Pink and I or was it something just for myself?  I tried to stay happy and focused on the plan but day by day uncertainty eroded my thoughts.

    I had gone out and bought a beautiful spring daffodil yellow dress for our wedding.  Every couple of nights I would take it out and try it on and look at myself in the mirror.  I didn¡¯t like what I saw.  It wasn¡¯t the image I saw that was troubling but rather the reflection of someone who had pushed her own agenda to the point that the person she loved most in the world was going to forego what he wanted just to make me happy.  It was the same reaction every time I tried on the dress.  I would look at myself and cry.  I kept expecting a different outcome but it was always the same.

    I seriously considered calling off the wedding but there was a part of me that was selfish and wouldn¡¯t give in.  I wanted Pink to marry me and take me away from everything.  That wasn¡¯t part of the plan, however.  I¡¯d spend the next year married to a boy I couldn¡¯t be with and wondering if I¡¯d done the right thing.  I also debated not showing up for the ceremony but I thought that would be a hurt that Pink could never get over.

    I didn¡¯t sleep much the night before the wedding.  I kept getting up and trying on the dress and crying over and over again.  Each time I was sure that my fears would disappear and I¡¯d realize it was just a case of nerves.  Nothing changed and I¡¯d carefully hang the dress in my closet and lie on my bed and sob.  I¡¯d wait a bit until I was calmer and take a deep breath and try again.  I began to be sick of the sight of myself.

    I skipped school the entire next day and pretended to be ill.  It wasn¡¯t far off the mark.  My mother checked on me before she left for work and didn¡¯t question how I felt.  I was sick to my stomach and wracked with guilt and self-loathing and foreboding.  I knew I couldn¡¯t just not show up. Maybe things would work out.  Then again, maybe they wouldn¡¯t.  It was that way all day as I got ready.  I went through the motions and did my hair and my makeup and got dressed.  In my purse were the vows I had written.  I had agonized over them trying to find the right things to say to Pink.  I reread them over and over again.  Every word was true to how I felt about him.  That was not in question.  I also had a gold band I had purchased for Pink from my savings.  By then, the vows and ring were just props to me in a charade I had to play out.

    I took a bus downtown and I prayed the answer would come to me on the way.  The question I needed answered was if what I was about to do was right.  I must have been a sight.  I knew I looked beautiful in my yellow dress but tears were running down my face.  I kept thinking that all I had to do was show up.  Everything would be better when I was with Pink.  If he was there then it would be a sign that everything would be right.  Pink would marry me and I¡¯d be happy.

    Somewhere, on the ride there, it all call came crashing down.  I went into full-on panic mode and had to get off the bus a few streets from the courthouse.  I was gasping for air and I began dry heaving.  People walked by and stared.  A woman stopped and asked me if I was okay.  I told her I was fine and that I had been on a bus and just felt a form of motion sickness.  How could I honestly tell her my insides were churning because I was on my way to a secret wedding that I wanted to run away from?

    There was a bench nearby and I sat down and put my head between my legs.  Soon my stomach settled and my head began to clear.  It was almost time for the ceremony and I was still a few blocks away.  I looked around.  No one was staring at me anymore.  I could have just been anyone waiting to do anything.  That¡¯s what I wanted.  I wanted to be anyone else and be anywhere else.  I couldn¡¯t go through with it.  My mind and body were telling me the truth of things.  Everything would not be alright because everything was wrong.

    I had pushed for this wedding and Pink had strung along.  He wasn¡¯t ready for it.  I wasn¡¯t ready for it.  Instead of cementing our futures together, I was dooming us to uncertainty.  Carlotta was trying to tear me apart from the inside out.  That¡¯s how much I was fighting against myself to do the right thing for a change.  The right thing was not getting married.  I needed time to figure out what else was right.  I needed time for me.  Pink would understand.  I¡¯d be like Rhonda.  I would make Pink understand.

    I made my way to the courthouse with only minutes to spare.  I was longing to see Pink but dreading it at the same time.  How could I tell him I wasn¡¯t going to marry him?  Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept on going until I was far from him and a wedding that no longer meant the world to me.  My mind was blank and I had no explanation to give him.  I needed time and that was the one thing Pink couldn¡¯t give me.  I¡¯d be hurting him but it would be better than an immediate future of regret.  There¡¯d be no easy way to break it to him.  Panic began to set in again and the tears came once more.

    Pink was there when I arrived and he came down the stairs to meet me.  I could see both relief and concern in his face.  He obviously had been patiently waiting but probably worried as it got closer to our appointed time and I wasn¡¯t there.  He saw the tears on my face.  He tried to ask me what was wrong but I couldn¡¯t find the words.  I stuttered something about loving him too much to go through with it.  I realized it didn¡¯t make sense but everything caught in my throat and it was the only thing I could think to say.  I turned away and started to run.  Pink didn¡¯t follow or call after me.  I believed I had probably lost him for good.

    When I got home I put away the dress.  I never wore it again.  I lay on my bed and cried myself to sleep.  It was early evening before I awoke.  I didn¡¯t know what to do.  This had been one of the worst days of my life.  I tried to think of words to describe how I was feeling.  Whenever I¡¯d had trouble before I¡¯d think of Elvis and a song that might sum up what I was going through.  All I could think was I had lost Pink.  There were lots of Elvis songs about loss but I was reminded of the lyrics to ¡®I Lost You¡¯.  It was an appropriate song title with lyrics saying ¡°¡®Oh, I''ve lost you, yes, I''ve lost you, I can''t reach you anymore, we ought to talk it over now, but reason can''t stand in for feeling.¡±  Reason can¡¯t stand in for feeling.  That was true enough.

    Would Pink even understand my reasons for running out on him?  I hadn¡¯t had time to even think up any good reasons.  I loved him.  That was the feeling.  I couldn¡¯t be with him because I loved him too much.  That wasn''t reasoning at all.  I needed to talk to Pink but would he even want to see me?  What would I say to him?

    That weekend I heard nothing from Pink.  He didn¡¯t call and he didn¡¯t come by.  I lay awake thinking I¡¯d hear him scratching at my window and we¡¯d meet in the garage and we¡¯d sort things out.  He never came.

    After a while, I began to realize I had to face Pink.  I had worked it out in my mind what to do but I had to find a way to get to Pink and explain things.  I took off the first couple of days of the following week from school.  I wasn¡¯t ready to run into him.  I had been formulating my thoughts and there were things I had to put into play. One of those was how to meet with Pink and let him know what I was going to do.  I couldn¡¯t just show up at his house unannounced or call him and invite him over.  What if he sent me away or what if he refused to come to the avocado house?

    I thought of who I could turn to.  There was only one other person I thought would understand enough to help me.  Rod¡¯s girlfriend Rhonda had been a sympathetic ear and it had been she who had started me questioning if I was doing right by Pink.  I went to her apartment one evening.  I knew it was risky going there because Pink¡¯s brother might be home and I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be as accepting of me after what I¡¯d done to his brother.  I was right.  He almost sent me away.  Rhonda intervened and insisted I at least have a chance to explain.

    It took all I had to be honest with both of them.  Rod kept trying to interrupt but Rhonda would give a look and then he¡¯d back down.  She really did have a way with him.  I told them everything.  I spared nothing from hurt to shame.  It wasn¡¯t easy but they understood and they supported me.  They agreed to one more of my hair-brained schemes.  They invited Pink over to meet with them and then they left before he arrived.  It would be the only opportunity I¡¯d be able to be alone with Pink without first scaring him off.

    The look on Pink¡¯s face when I opened the door was agony to me.  I¡¯d always known it was his eyes that conveyed what was going on inside of him.  That night, his eyes were full of anger and confusion and a look I can only describe as having been wounded.  It was almost as bad as the moment at the bottom of the courthouse stairs.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he said with a tone leaning towards hostility.

    ¡°Please Pink, it was the only way.  Don¡¯t blame Rod and Rhonda.  I begged them for your help.  I needed to talk to you and I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d come if I had invited you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right about that Pippa.  Tell me right now why I shouldn¡¯t turn around and leave you?¡±  I knew he was referring to me walking out on him before our wedding.

    ¡°Because I love you Pink.¡±

    ¡°You have a funny way of showing it.  What was it you said when you jilted me?  Oh yeah, you love me too much.  How is any of that supposed to make me feel after what happened?¡±

    He was right.  Telling him I loved him was small consolation for abandoning him on our wedding day or for what I was about to tell him.

    ¡°Just give me a few moments Pink.  Let¡¯s go sit down and maybe I can begin to explain things to you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you five minutes.  If I don¡¯t like what I¡¯m hearing then I¡¯m leaving.¡±  He looked like he meant it, too.

    We went into the living room and we sat opposite each other.  I longed to sit next to him and have him hold me.  It would probably be the last time he¡¯d ever do that.

    ¡°I realize that saying sorry will mean nothing to you,¡± I began.  ¡°I am sorry Pink and I do love you.  The problem is that lately, I¡¯ve been having trouble loving myself.¡±

    ¡°I know that feeling.  I¡¯m having a problem loving you at this very moment.¡±  He was just being honest.  I understood but the words were crushing.

    ¡°I just couldn¡¯t do it Pink.  I wanted with all my heart to marry you but everything else was telling me it was wrong.  I was becoming physically sick over it.  I had convinced myself that I was forcing you into the wedding against your will.  I wanted more than anything to be your wife.  I just think you really didn¡¯t want to be my husband¡­at this time.¡±

    ¡°I showed up didn¡¯t I?¡± he snapped.

    ¡°I did, too, remember?¡± I replied.  ¡°But it¡¯s not enough to show up.  I wanted both of us to be happy and committed to each other.  In the beginning, you were struggling with it.  I recognize that.  Later, I was struggling with it.  Why can¡¯t you accept that from me?¡±

    ¡°I was happy and I was ready,¡± he continued.  ¡°I could have called it off at any time but I saw the value in our wedding.  You were right when you said it would bind us together.  That¡¯s the future I wanted.¡±

    ¡°And now?¡±  I asked.  I was afraid of the answer.

    ¡°And now I¡¯d do it again if you asked me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem Pink.  I was the one who asked you the first time and wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer.  I worked on you to want what I wanted.  I didn¡¯t give you a chance to get what you wanted.¡±

    ¡°What about our future, Pippa?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doing this for our future Pink.  I need time for me.  I went from mourning my brother to wanting to marry you.  There were a whole bunch of things I should have figured out somewhere between those two.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±  I knew he was getting agitated with me and my time was probably close to being up.  Would he really hold me to the five minute deadline?

    ¡°How to be alone, for starters.  I went from you to Bastien and then back to you.  I¡¯ve been part of a couple so often that I forgot what it¡¯s like to do all the thinking for myself.  I had thought only of pleasing you and then Bastien.  I forgot about my needs.  Oh, it was good for a time.  Carlotta wasn¡¯t pulling at me and I was happy just to focus on either of you two.  That was avoidance.  I shoved all of the problems with my father off to the side and ignored the issues I was having with my mother.  I didn¡¯t want to deal with them.  It¡¯s about time I started figuring out what¡¯s right for me.¡±

    ¡°I can help you with that Pippa.  Don¡¯t shut me out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not shutting you out Pink.  I¡¯m just closing the door to us for now.  I¡¯ve decided to go away for a while and think about things.  I¡¯ve got to find out who I am.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re going away?¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t like it Pink but I¡¯m going to Quebec City.¡±

    There was an audible gasp from Pink and he suddenly looked very deflated.

    ¡°Let me explain, Pink.  I tried to get into the student exchange program but it was too late.  I did the only thing I could think to after that.  I went to Bastien.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving me for him?¡±  Pink stood up and looked as if he would leave.

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving you for him.  I¡¯m going to live with his family.  His parents have an extra room and he has an older sister that¡¯ll be there.  She¡¯s going to college in the fall but she¡¯s still living at home.  I could use someone like that to help me with what¡¯s to come.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think Bastien¡¯s going to ease off on wanting you?¡±

    I¡¯d given that some thought before I had approached Bastien.  I knew he was still stinging from me dumping him but I was counting on him still caring as much as when he had attended Roger¡¯s funeral as a show of support.  I would need that kind of support.  I wasn¡¯t going to encourage him in any way because I wasn¡¯t going to Quebec to be with him.  He was just a means to an end.

    ¡°I know that Bastien still cares for me but I don¡¯t love him in that way.¡±  I was hoping Pink would believe that.  ¡°I¡¯ve talked it over with him.  I¡¯m going to Quebec to experience some new things and to think about what comes next.  I¡¯ll only be gone a year.¡±

    ¡°Well, a lot can happen in a year.  What if you decide to marry him?¡±

    I could see Pink¡¯s logic.  Maybe he was secretly thinking I hadn¡¯t married him because I was still in love with Bastien.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

    ¡°I¡¯ll only be gone a year,¡± I repeated.  ¡°I¡¯m not marrying anyone.  Don¡¯t you see, Pink, I¡¯ve got to do this for me.  It¡¯s no good me staying here.  It¡¯s going to come out.  It¡¯ll show on me.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?  There¡¯s nothing to come out.  You made that clear when you walked away from me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about you and I anymore Pink.  I haven¡¯t dealt with my family stuff and now my parents are talking about getting back together.  I can¡¯t be here if that happens.  It¡¯ll make things worse.¡±

    ¡°I thought your mother would never go back to him?¡± he asked me.

    ¡°It¡¯s all different now since Roger¡¯s death.  I¡¯ve pulled back from my mother and she¡¯s seeking comfort somewhere else.  I can¡¯t have my father back in our lives.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that your mother¡¯s decision?  I know what you¡¯ve told me and I thought you said his getting in bed with you was a drunken mistake?  Maybe she¡¯s ready to accept that nothing really happened.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand Pink!¡± I shouted.

    ¡°Make me understand Pippa!¡± he shouted back.

    ¡°He touched me!¡±  I collapsed over on the couch and started to cry.  I sensed Pink move closer until he sat next to me.  I couldn¡¯t bear being that close to him.  I had just dropped a bombshell that I hadn¡¯t even told my mother.  I wanted Pink to hold me but that would be moving backwards.

    ¡°Pippa, does your mother know?¡±  His voice was so soft and gentle.  This was the insightful and caring boy I¡¯d learned to love.  If telling him my deepest darkest secret wasn¡¯t torture then being close to him and not having him touch me was worse.

    It took me a couple of minutes to compose myself.  I sat up and looked into his eyes.  There were those eyes again full of compassion and love.  I hadn¡¯t expected that.  I had thought his anger with me would have been all-consuming. I hadn¡¯t wanted to tell him the truth about the incident with my father.  I had been too ashamed to tell anyone.  I hadn¡¯t even told the counsellor I had been forced to see.

    ¡°How can I tell her Pink?¡± I sobbed.  I wasn¡¯t crying as hard but it was still difficult to talk without tearing up.

    ¡°You have to tell her the truth, Pippa.  Maybe he was drunk and he didn¡¯t know what he was doing but it¡¯s no excuse for what he did.  You have to tell your mother everything so she can make up her mind based on all the information.¡±

    Pink was right.  I shouldn¡¯t have let it get that far.

    ¡°I have always blamed myself.  I felt it was something in me that made my father do what he did.  I couldn¡¯t tell anyone that.  Everything he did and what came after felt like it was all my fault.  I¡¯ve never dealt with any of it.  Living with my mother in the avocado house was removed enough that I didn¡¯t have to see my father or even think about what happened.  Maybe if I¡¯d told Roger then maybe he¡¯d have stayed with us and there¡¯d have been no motorcycle and he¡¯d still be alive.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t blame yourself, Pippa.  I didn¡¯t understand before but I do now.  You¡¯ve been running away from things for a long time.  Let me help you with this.  If you want, I can go with you for support when you tell your mother.¡±

    ¡°As Steve Wilson?¡± I asked.  ¡°Don¡¯t you remember, she doesn¡¯t know you as Jeff Carter?  And what do I tell her about you?  Do I introduce you as a friend or a fianc¨¦ I left at the altar?  I know you¡¯re right Pink but this is something I have to do myself.¡±

    ¡°What about Quebec City?  Maybe you don¡¯t need to go there after you talk to your mother.¡±

    ¡°No Pink, my mind¡¯s made up on Quebec.  I need to go there for other reasons.  I have to let my mother figure out things for herself.  I¡¯ll tell her the truth but I can¡¯t help her.  If she wasn¡¯t overprotective before then she¡¯ll move into battle mode and won¡¯t let me out of her sight or let anyone get close to me ever again.  I need my independence for this next bit.  There are still things I need to figure out.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯m back to the question of what about us,¡± Pink replied.

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that Pink.  I need to figure out me and you need to sort out your future.  I know you¡¯ve got plans.  You want to write or teach.  I don¡¯t want to get in the way of that.  While I¡¯m off in Quebec you have to get things back on track for your future.¡±

    ¡°Without you, you mean?¡±  His eyes were cooling again.  I think he was beginning to accept everything but he wasn¡¯t happy about it.

    ¡°For now, Pink.  This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve told you to give me time but it¡¯s the first time I¡¯m finally going to take that time myself.  It¡¯s only a year and nothing will change how I feel about you.¡±

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to change how I feel either,¡± he replied.  ¡°I don¡¯t get most of this Pippa but then there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.  I love you and if you think going to Quebec City is going to fix you or heal you or whatever, I¡¯ll have to live with it.  I¡¯ll be miserable the whole time but I¡¯ve lived without you before and I got through it.  Just promise me you¡¯ll come back.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises Pink.  If you ask me to come back to you then I might say yes but that would be wrong.  I¡¯d spend the whole time thinking of you and not dealing with my own issues.  I have to learn to live without you.  I don¡¯t know if that means forever or not.  Don¡¯t dwell on me but don¡¯t forget me.  Let¡¯s just see what happens.¡±

    ¡°I could never forget you, Pippa.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll never forget you Pink.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t much else for us to say after that.  We hugged one last time and we said goodbye to each other between our weeping.  I asked him to stay at the apartment and say my thanks to Rod and Rhonda.

    Two weeks later I was on my way to Quebec City.

 18. That Warm Feeling

    Pippa¡¯s version of events was incredible.  I had forgotten some things and had questions about others.  Finding out I was a lost puppy she wanted to avoid after our first meeting was disturbing.  I thought I had made a great impression on her the first time.  I imagined being dubbed ¡®Pink¡¯ had been like a rite of passage into her inner circle.  Still, she hadn¡¯t sent me away and her comments about my eyes were flattering.

    Her description of our first break-up was about what I had expected.  I had been sure she was only with Bastien to spite me but hearing the truth didn¡¯t make me feel better about it.  The details of her return and the lovemaking were accurate if skimpy on details.  I honestly thought she had told me the truth about the box of condoms.  That was about the only part that made me laugh.

    I remembered vividly our botched wedding attempt but I had no idea how she had felt about it.  Her story of being physically sick on the way to the ceremony offered more insight into the torture she had been experiencing.  She had told me very little of that when we had last met at Rod and Rhonda¡¯s.  That information coupled with my recollection of our last conversation reminded me how hard it had been for her to tell me she was leaving and how difficult it had been for me to let her go.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s it, Pippa?  You have nothing to say about the past year?¡±

    ¡°I told you, Pink, don¡¯t ask me about Quebec City because I¡¯m not prepared to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Can I ask if you were with Bastien?¡±  I had to know.  She said she wasn¡¯t going to Quebec to be with him but I also had been worried he¡¯d seize the opportunity of Pippa being there just to make another play for her.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t alone but I wasn¡¯t with Bastien either.  You¡¯ll have to let it go at that.¡±

    That was an admission I hadn¡¯t expected.  She hadn¡¯t been alone.  That was a bigger shock than thinking she¡¯d been with Bastien.  I asked for it.  She had told me she would never forget me but she never said she¡¯d come back to me.  I hadn¡¯t let her go to Quebec City.  That wasn¡¯t within my control.  I had agreed to her plans but I had harboured hope.

    ¡°Will you tell me, at least, how you came to be here at Trent?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you most of it.  Before I left for Quebec City, I told my mother the truth about what my father did to me.  It was the most difficult thing I¡¯ve ever done.  She was still dealing with Roger¡¯s death and she¡¯d been seeing my father again.  My revelation was the end of that.  She wanted us to go to the police and press charges but I couldn¡¯t do that.  Maybe my father was drunk and didn¡¯t know his own actions but then again maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.  I didn¡¯t want to face all of that.  I needed to get past it.¡±

    Pippa took a deep breath before she continued.

    ¡°My mother agreed not to pursue it legally but she stopped seeing him, cut off contact, and filed for divorce.  All of that became finalized while I was away.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me how your mother reacted after you told her you were going to Quebec City.¡±  It couldn¡¯t have been any worse probably than I had felt after she had announced her plans to me.

    ¡°She was devastated and we argued and cried and we got through it.  I convinced her like I convinced you.  I was going regardless so she had to eventually agree to the way of things.  She gave up the avocado house and moved into a two-bedroom apartment.  She always had hopes I¡¯d come back to her.¡±

    ¡°What about Trent?  How¡¯d you end up here?¡±

    ¡°I applied to three schools with Business programs.  Trent was the only one to accept me.  I hadn¡¯t completed Grade 13 when I went to Quebec and the other Universities didn¡¯t even look at me.  I had to write a letter and an essay explaining why I wanted to go here.  I guess I got lucky or maybe my writing was convincing.¡±

    ¡°And where are you living?¡± I asked.  I had traced her movements as the running girl and it didn¡¯t seem she was living in a University residence.

    ¡°I came back from Quebec at the beginning of August.  I was with my mother for week and then she helped me find a room up here.  I live with a wonderful single mom named Beth.  She has a 3-year-old son and there¡¯s a girl who¡¯s not yet one.  I rent a room and I share in child care duties for a discount on my rent.  I think I¡¯ve found my calling.  I love children.  That¡¯s part of my business plan I¡¯m developing.  I want to eventually open a children¡¯s clothing shop.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty big step.¡±

    ¡°Part of the program helps you develop a business proposal and they have links to agencies and banks for grants and loans.  I thought of calling my store ¡®Little Carlotta¡¯s because you know I¡¯ve always loved the name.  I think though that it¡¯s a little long so I¡¯m thinking of ¡®Little Lotta¡¯s¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Like the comic book character?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What comic book character?¡±

    ¡°Little Lotta.  You seriously haven¡¯t heard of Little Lotta?

    ¡°Not until this moment,¡± she replied.  ¡°I don¡¯t want to get in trouble.  I guess I¡¯ll have to come up with another name.¡±

    ¡°How about Li¡¯l Lotta¡¯s or just simply Carlotta¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Just plain Carlotta¡¯s?¡±  She thought about it a moment before replying.  ¡°Carlotta¡¯s,¡± she repeated.  ¡°I like it.  It¡¯s unique enough.¡±

    ¡°It might be a good way to finally get Carlotta out of your system.  My friend Bags says if you tell other people your story, it¡¯s like giving it away.¡±

    ¡°That Carlotta¡¯s under control.  I took care of that in Quebec City.  Sorry, I said I wasn¡¯t going to mention Quebec City.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.  You¡¯re here now,¡± I replied.  ¡°What happens next?¡±

    ¡°Well, you go back to your friend Bags and tell him you met the running girl and you told her your story.  Tell him she told you hers as well and now you¡¯re even.¡±

    ¡°Are we Pippa?  It¡¯s sappy but I¡¯m still carrying a torch for you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still carrying something for you too, Pink, but you¡¯ve got your plans and I¡¯ve got mine.¡±

    ¡°And never the twain shall meet?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that means Pink.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s from Rudyard Kipling.  He was a British author.  I studied him in the last year of High School.  It¡¯s a line in The Ballad of East and West.  ¡®East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet¡¯.  It means the two exist separately and never meet.  I¡¯m wondering if that¡¯s what you¡¯re telling me.¡±

    ¡°You always were smarter when it came to literature.  Browning and ¡®Pippa Passes¡¯ and now Kipling and ¡®Never The Twain Shall Meet¡¯.  I¡¯m not that same Pippa anymore who tries to make everyone else happy.  I¡¯m focussed on me and my responsibilities.

    ¡°And the twain?¡±  I thought I was being clever but I did notice she had neglected to address it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Pink.  You¡¯re probably getting tired of hearing that but I haven¡¯t got it all figured out.  I¡¯ve got plans and that¡¯s where my head is these days.  When I¡¯m not working on school then I¡¯m busy with the children.  That¡¯s why I run at nights.  After everything has quieted down, I go for a run sometimes.  It helps to clear my head.  But I think you know how that works.¡±

    I did know that.  I was always running when it came to her and I had started to run a little more around campus ever since my two sightings of the girl who turned out to be Pippa.  It looked like there would be more running in store when it came to our relationship.  Or was it just a friendship now?

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll see you around then, running girl.¡±  What else could I say?  She had cut the ties when she went to Quebec.  After meeting her again I realized they were still severed.

    ¡°Nice to have met you, Mr. Carter.  The running girl thanks you for the coffee.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye, Pippa.¡±

    ¡°How about we just say ¡®until next time.¡¯  I¡¯d like that.¡±

    We had gotten good at saying goodbye.  It would have been nice to have said hello and let it go at that.  We¡¯d both walked away from each other enough times that I wasn¡¯t sure each time might not be the last time.  I was counting on seeing her again but it wasn¡¯t up to me.

    We hugged goodbye and we both lingered a little longer on the hug thinking the other would release first.  I could never forget her touch or the feel of her.  There are some things that stay with you always.

    Later I would relay to Bags what happened.

    ¡°That¡¯s it Jeff?  You both went your separate ways?¡±  Bags was more than perplexed.  I think he also might have been a little frustrated with me.

    ¡°Bags, have you ever tried to put a puzzle together with pieces missing and you didn¡¯t have the box lid to show you the scene you were trying to assemble? That¡¯s what it¡¯s like for me.  She¡¯s always had secrets and either she¡¯s piled on more or she¡¯s replaced some of the old ones with newer mysteries.¡±

    ¡°So now you know,¡± Bags replied.

    ¡°Now I know what?  I¡¯m no further ahead than before we placed the ad.¡±

    ¡°Sure you are, Jeff.  You seem to forget we only placed that notice so you could see if the running girl was Pippa.  But remember, at the start of this I said you needed to find out if your affair was over.  I think you have your answer.¡±

    ¡°What answer is that?  She said ¡®until next time¡¯.  Am I supposed to take that as I¡¯ll see you around or we¡¯ll be together again someday?¡±

    Bags and I had been sitting around in my room and I was stretched out on my bed staring at the ceiling as if I¡¯d find solutions in the cracks in the tiles.  Bags suddenly leaned over and punched me in the stomach.  It wasn¡¯t very hard but it was enough to throw me off guard.

    ¡°What the hell was that for?¡± I yelled.

    ¡°I thought of striking lower but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d appreciate that.  Have I got your attention now?¡±

    ¡°Damn right you do!  Just don¡¯t do that again!¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what relationships are like.  Sometimes it feels like you get hit in the gut.  The pain eventually goes away but you¡¯re wary of the next time.  This girl has done that to you too often and you keep lining up for seconds.  I think that¡¯s the answer.¡±

    ¡°Again, what answer?¡±  I covered my stomach and also watched his hands in case he took a shot at my head.

    ¡°That you¡¯re stupid, Jeff,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°If someone sucker punches you and you keep lining up expecting something different each time but the punches keep coming, then you¡¯re either into pain or you¡¯re just plain stupid.  I think you¡¯re a little bit of both.¡±

    ¡°I must be stupid because you¡¯re starting to make sense to me.  I¡¯m tired of that punch but that warm sensation afterwards when the pain¡¯s easing keeps me wanting to come back for more.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to sock you one again and see how much you like it?¡±

    I grabbed my pillow and covered my tender parts.  It wasn¡¯t unlike Bags to hit me again just to drive his point home.

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll pass thank you.  I think I¡¯ll just lick my wounds for a while, Bags.  She¡¯s always come back to me before and it was better each time.  I guess I really am into pain.¡±

    ¡°Dr. Bags has spoken!  I think it¡¯s time you paid my fee.  Beers on you.¡±

    Bags and I celebrated by getting good and drunk in my room.  We thought about going out but I didn¡¯t want to go downtown and possibly see Pippa running again so soon.

    ¡°Want to see a souvenir?¡± I asked Bags.  We were feeling pretty good late in the evening and I wanted to show Bags a depressing memento of my relationship with Pippa.  ¡°Pull out the bottom drawer of my desk and look at the back.¡±

    Bags reached in and extracted the SHIELDS pack.  He opened it and a single wrapped condom landed on the desktop.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Remember that warm sensation I was talking about earlier?  That reminded me of another warm sensation she kept hitting me with.  That condom is the remaining token of a beautiful affair.  I almost married the girl because of sex.  She plied me with her wares and I gave her my heart in exchange.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite the romantic buddy.  Why do you keep it if it¡¯s a sad reminder?¡±

    ¡°I live in hope.¡±

    In the days following my meeting with Pippa, I tried to think less and less of her.  It wasn¡¯t easy.  I studied, I ran, and I kept on letting Bags wear me down with his free psychology.

    I didn¡¯t see her for a few weeks and our paths didn¡¯t pass.  Either she was being overly cautious or I was.  Weeks became months and I became distracted by school and Bags.

    Occasionally I would put an ad in the student newspaper asking if the running girl wanted to meet the ogre for coffee.  I¡¯d suggest The Old Grind and a date and time but each time she failed to show.  I started to realize I was being sent a message by her absence.  I had told Bags I lived in hope but there should have been a sign over the coffee shop door that read ¡®abandon hope, all ye who enter here¡¯.

    I eventually gave up on seeing Pippa again and decided to spend some time with Libby from the floor above.  We shared some classes and an interest in English literature.  She wrote poetry she shared with me and it was good.  Some of it was more than good.  There was none of the existential verse similar to the poetry I¡¯d heard that time at the pub or the sappy romantic trifle girls from my high school used to write for homework assignments.  Libby had written a series of poems that talked about a limit between youth and adulthood and how you transition by just passing time.  The analogy was like a speed limit you try to accelerate past but you never actually get to the other side unless you slow down to the speed of life.  Maybe it was a little existential after all but I liked it.

    Libby was not like Pippa at all.  She was dark-haired and fair and didn¡¯t seem to have baggage.  She was the oldest of five and spoke well of her parents and siblings.  I liked not having to worry about hazards around her.  Bags called her ¡®treacle¡¯ because she was too sweet for his tastes; this coming from a guy who hardly kept anything but sweets on his person.  I didn¡¯t mind Libby because she wasn¡¯t Pippa and I needed a little bit of someone who wasn¡¯t Pippa to take my mind off the one who was.

    There was nothing physical or romantic in my relationship with Libby.  She was good company and a good distraction.  She sensed I wasn¡¯t ready to commit to anything beyond our friendship so she never hinted she wanted anything more but I often wondered.  She¡¯d stop by to see me and talk about lectures or studies and I began to look forward to her impromptu visits.  I¡¯d never had that kind of relationship with Pippa.  Yes, when we were together I lived in those moments but when Pippa was gone I felt like I couldn¡¯t breathe until the next time.  That reminded me of those sappy love poems I¡¯d heard but I personally wouldn¡¯t write elegies about it.

    When Libby was around, I didn¡¯t think about Pippa.  She knew nothing about that part of my life and I didn¡¯t think I needed to share.  I wouldn¡¯t ask her if she had previous boyfriends and she never ventured toward a discussion about that portion of my past.  I seriously began to think of Libby as more than a friend and when we broke for Christmas vacation I couldn¡¯t wait until it was over so I could see her again.

    I hadn¡¯t ever experienced that variety of normal feelings.  With Pippa, it had been win or lose sometimes and I often found myself on the losing end.  My emotions ran the gamut when it came to Pippa and none of them had come close to being normal.  This new experience with Libby was not as intense as it had been with Pippa but I found myself enjoying just not having to think about what something meant or about what came next.  However, I also began to question whether I could be happy with anyone else.  Normal was simple.  Normal was good.  The problem was I couldn¡¯t help feeling I didn¡¯t deserve normal.

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    Early Spring rolled around and I was happy.  I¡¯d stopped placing ads for Pippa to read and I got back into a groove of not fixating on her.  I had done this before when she first left me and then again when she went off to Quebec.  I knew how to be apart from her even if I didn¡¯t like it.  This time was different.  I had friends like Bags and Libby to keep me grounded.  It hadn¡¯t been like that in high school.  When Pippa and I had parted back then, I worked hard on my class load and kept pretty much to myself.  I couldn¡¯t even associate with Ben because his ties with Sandra were too close to Pippa.

    It was 1980 and I was twenty.  I felt twenty.  If I¡¯d been asked a few years earlier what it would be like to be twenty, I would have described it exactly as I was experiencing it that spring.  I was independent and I had friends and I was content.  Each time Pippa and I had separated I had learned to deal with the scars.  I¡¯d developed an extra layer of skin and toughened up or wizened up to the way of things.  She may have been in the same city but she might have been a million miles away or back in Quebec City.  I didn¡¯t see her and she had passed on my lame attempts at friendly reconciliation in the form of ads to the running girl.

    ¡°Did you see this week¡¯s student newspaper?¡± Bags asked me one afternoon after I had made my way back from a late class.  He thrust the paper at me and waited until I grabbed it.  ¡°Check out the ¡®personal¡¯ section.  You can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    I flipped through the paper and found the part to which Bags had alluded.  It was a two-word message ¡®Think Pink¡¯ and a date and time at The Old Grind.

    ¡°So what, that could mean anything.¡±  Of course, I knew that the wording had been intended for me.

    ¡°Oh come on, Jeffy-boy, it clearly calls out your name.  It¡¯s like the bat-signal.  You have to answer it.¡±

    ¡°It says ¡®Think Pink.¡¯  That¡¯s not me.  My name¡¯s Jeff or Jeffy-boy as you like to call me.¡±  I was also pal, buddy, chum, and a few other choice names like sucker or Mr. Stupid when Bags was trying to make a point to me.

    ¡°Okay pally,¡± Bags started but this label also wasn¡¯t something he hadn¡¯t called me before, ¡°you can¡¯t tell me you¡¯re not the least bit curious?¡±

    ¡°Dr. Bags, there¡¯s nothing to analyze here.  You¡¯ve taught me well.  I¡¯ve lost count of the number of stomach punches you¡¯ve laid on me in the past few months.  Whenever I got nostalgic for Pippa, you¡¯d catch me unaware with your fist.  It¡¯s been a while though since you¡¯ve tried it so I must be doing something right.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.  If you¡¯re happy with treacle then who am I to interfere?¡±

    ¡°Libby¡¯s not treacle!  She¡¯s nice.  I¡¯m happy.  We¡¯re happy.

    Bags had followed me into my room with his argument and had perched himself on the edge of my desk.  He leaned over and worked out my bottom drawer and plunged his hand inside.  He pulled out the near-empty box of condoms and tossed them on my bed.

    ¡°Treacle or not, does she give you that warm feeling?¡±  Bags turned and walked out.

    I picked up the SHIELDS pack and tossed it in my wastepaper basket.  There were warm feelings and then there were warm feelings.  I could do without them.  Couldn¡¯t I?  I retrieved the pack from the garbage and carefully slipped them behind some books on my shelf.  I didn¡¯t want Bags finding it again and using it as ammunition against me.

    What could Pippa¡¯s notice of ¡®Think Pink¡¯ mean after all this time?  We weren¡¯t together.  She¡¯d been with me and then she¡¯d been with Bastien and then there was a third person in Quebec City.  How had that turned out?  There might have been a fourth person since we¡¯d last met.  What could ¡®Think Pink¡¯ mean?  There was only one way to find out.

    I didn¡¯t tell Bags I was going and I certainly didn¡¯t share any of it with Libby.  It was late on a Saturday afternoon and Pippa was there before me.  God, it was good to see her.  I couldn¡¯t deny it.  I had told myself Pippa was no Libby but then again there had never been anyone like Pippa.  All of that talk of warm feelings I had discussed with Bags paled to the warm feeling of seeing her again.  I knew a gut punch was coming but I was gladly walking into it.

    ¡°Hello, Pink, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d come,¡± she said as I sat down.

    ¡°Well, no one else calls me Pink so I got the message.¡±

    ¡°Would you rather I call you Jeff?  It¡¯s silly but I¡¯ve called you Pink so often that Jeff just sounds strange to me.¡±

    ¡°You can call me Pink.  I think I said almost the exact same words when we first met even if you did think I was some kind of dolt.¡±

    ¡°I never called you a dolt, Pink.  I think I referred to you as nothing special.  Boy did I get that wrong. ¡±

    ¡°Last time we met, Pippa, you asked me what we were doing here.  I guess I have that same question now.¡±

    She looked at me and something told me to get up and run.  She¡¯d once posted a sign advising me to Run, Pink, Run and now everything inside me was screaming the same thing.  I stayed in my seat.  Bags said I must be into pain or I was just plain stupid.  All anyone had to do was tape a ¡®kick me¡¯ sign to my back and I¡¯d be a complete prize chump.

    ¡°It¡¯s been two years since my brother died, Pink.  It¡¯s still difficult to think of him.  It hurts just to say his name.  Roger.  You understand don¡¯t you Pink?¡±

    So that was it.  I was a sounding board once again for her grief.  Or was this the first time she¡¯d actually put me in that position?  As I recalled, our lovemaking had substituted for her mourning process in the weeks after his death.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Pippa, I know how much that must still hurt.  I don¡¯t mean to be rude but is that why you wanted to see me?¡±

    ¡°Do I have to have a reason, Pink?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Think Pink.  You mean to tell me there¡¯s nothing behind that?¡±

    She reached out across the table but I didn¡¯t take her hand.  To me, any touch with Pippa at that moment would result in me getting burned.  I¡¯d learned a little something from my experiences and Bags'' tutelage.

    ¡°You won¡¯t even take my hand Pink?  From one friend to another?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just inspecting for weapons,¡± I replied.  The comment had the effect on Pippa similar to a sting from a slap.  I knew how that felt but I also realized I had gone too far.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry Pippa that was uncalled for.  I guess I¡¯m a little resentful of all the times I posted ads asking you to coffee and you didn¡¯t respond.  I¡¯ll put my knife away.¡±  I hoped she clued in to my reference to the time Rhonda had told Rod and I to leave our knives at home.

    ¡°Pink, let me be clear, I don¡¯t want anything from you.  There¡¯s no secret agenda or anything I¡¯m hiding in the shadows.  I just wanted to see you.  Think Pink.  Think of all the times we¡¯ve been good to each other¡­good with each other.  Believe it or not, even with everything going in my life, I still get lonely.  I may be nostalgic for a time we once had but I know that¡¯s gone.¡±

    Was this the windup to the knock-out punch I¡¯d been expecting?  Why now after all these months, I thought.  No secrets?  Nothing hidden?  I was still suspicious.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who called things off Pippa.  You were clear you had your plans and I didn¡¯t factor into them.¡±

    Pippa seemed to look past me.  She was hurting and I wasn¡¯t making it easy on her.  How could I?  Every time I thought I had her out of my life she called to me in some way and I came running.  That was the story of my life.  I was always running when it came to Pippa.  It never stopped.

    ¡°Carlotta¡¯s running me ragged,¡± she said quietly.  Her statement reminded me that the word running could have other meanings.  What was hers at that moment?  She was still looking off away from me.

    ¡°Your business model or your personal demon?¡± I asked.  I hadn¡¯t intended on being that blunt.  I still didn¡¯t know what this meeting was all about.

    ¡°Would you believe me if I said both and neither?  I know you don¡¯t want to be here Pink and I don¡¯t blame you.  I was just looking for a little tea and sympathy.¡±

    ¡°Well, a coffee shop¡¯s a good place for at least one of those.¡±  I decided to inject a little humour into our situation.  It was as much from being nervous and apprehensive than something out of wounded pride.

    ¡°And the other?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I guess I can¡¯t deny anything to a friend.¡±  I was starting to realize I should stop holding onto the past.  I wasn¡¯t being a good friend at that point and maybe that¡¯s all she wanted.

    ¡°Do you want to take a walk, Pink?  I think need some air.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    I remembered back to when Roger had died two years earlier.  It had been unseasonably warm but walking with Pippa in the Peterborough streets that day was a little brisk.  There was a biting wind and I immediately regretted her suggestion.

    ¡°Where to?¡± I asked.  ¡°Better make it quick because we won¡¯t be out here for long in this weather.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen your residence,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen yours either,¡± I replied.

    ¡°Would you mind if we went back to your place, Pink?  I need a little change of scenery.¡±

    ¡°What about the children?  Aren¡¯t you helping out today?¡±  It occurred to me I knew little about her personal life in that city but there was something lonely and almost desperate in her request.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m taking a personal day.¡±  It was cryptic but not out of character for her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I made my bed this morning,¡± I offered.  I knew it wasn¡¯t a deterrent and it wasn¡¯t meant as one.  I was feeling that no argument would limit her determination.  Even my resistance was low at that point.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen an unmade bed of yours before.  It never dissuaded me before.¡±

    As we walked toward the bus stop, my insides were sending me out danger signals.  Something wasn¡¯t right.  As if she could read my mind, she slipped her arm into mine.  Some things never changed.  I felt the old pull of what we had before and I was slowly giving in to it.  Where was Bags when I needed him?  If he was there I¡¯d let him slug me and I¡¯d stay down for the count.  It was difficult to say no to Pippa.

    ¡°It¡¯s a long ride out,¡± I offered.  I was only half-heartedly putting up roadblocks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mind.  You know, Pink, I¡¯ve been here for seven months and I¡¯ve never even experienced a day in the life of a typical student.  Do you know, I¡¯ve never even been to a pub?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not missing much.  It¡¯s mostly dark rooms and lousy poetry.  The beer¡¯s not bad though.¡±

    ¡°Are you talking out of experience or was there an information brochure I missed?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t told her about my big pub experience of reciting my story about her in an effort to get her out of my system.  It obviously hadn¡¯t worked.

    ¡°Just another average adventure with Bags.  Nothing to crow about.¡±

    ¡°Your friend Bags sounds like a strange character.  However, I¡¯ve only met him the once so that¡¯s not much to go on.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯ve pegged him right.  He¡¯s a strange character but I think he¡¯s going to make a hell of a psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever he¡¯s studying for.  Dr. Bags, watch out for his right hook.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Skip it,¡± I replied.  ¡°It¡¯s an inside joke.¡±  What would Bags think when I showed up at our rooms with Pippa?  I considered stopping somewhere and buying some body armour.

    The bus came and we rode out to the main campus and walked over to my residence.  Our conversation had been very superficial and neither of us offered new insights into our current lives.  She talked about her school program and assignments and I regaled her a little bit about Bags.

    ¡°Wow, about as I expected,¡± she said after seeing my room.  I had been right, I hadn¡¯t made my bed.  I scurried quickly to make my room more presentable.

    ¡°Hey Jeff,¡± Bags said as he stuck his head in my door, ¡°I thought I heard you come in.  Do you want to get a¡­?¡±  He left the question partially asked after seeing Pippa.

    ¡°Bags is it?¡± Pippa asked him.  ¡°Bags to your friends and pretty girls?¡±

    Bags was speechless for once.  I don¡¯t think it had ever happened in the whole time I¡¯d known him.

    ¡°Ugh Jeff, I found that thing you asked me about.  Why don¡¯t you come to my room and get it?¡±

    ¡°What thing?¡±  I asked but quickly realized Bags¡¯ intention.  ¡°Oh, the thing.  I thought you lost that.  Excuse me, Pippa, I¡¯ll be right back.¡±  I didn¡¯t think we were fooling anyone.

    Bags closed the door to his room when we got inside.  I was expecting a well-placed blow but he was holding back.

    ¡°What in the name of all that is holy is she doing here?¡±  I knew it was coming and Bags got right to the point.

    ¡°Think Pink.¡±  I decided that short and sweet was the best reply I could give him.

    ¡°You mean to tell me you showed up in response to that ad even after you told me you were going to ignore it?¡±  Bags was getting a little heated and I kept watching his hands to see if he was going to lash out at me.  ¡°That makes no sense at all Jeff.¡±

    I knew I was in trouble when I was Jeff and not one of the myriad nicknames he had for me.

    ¡°What else would you expect from me, Kevin?¡±  I thought I would use his real name as well to drive my point home.  ¡°She wants something and I¡¯m trying to find out what it is.  You better stay close and be ready to hit me if I need it.¡±

    ¡°You can count on that,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°What about treacle?¡±

    ¡°Her name¡¯s Libby, not treacle.  She doesn¡¯t need to know anything.  She¡¯s not part of this.  Pippa¡¯s just here as a friend.  I¡¯ve got it all covered.¡±

    ¡°Keep repeating that to yourself, buddy.  First sign of trouble, I¡¯m letting you have it.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect anything less from you Bags.¡±

    We went back to my room.  On entering, Bags gave me a hard slap on the back.  Libby was in there with Pippa.  I didn¡¯t really need that warning shot from Bags because the bottom had already dropped out of my stomach.

    ¡°Hey Jeff, I was just getting acquainted with your friend here.  She tells me you two went to high school together.¡±  Libby was making it sound innocent enough but I had my doubts.

    ¡°Oh?  What else did she tell you?¡±  I braced myself for the impact from what was in front of me and possibly from Bags who stood behind.

    ¡°I just told her I knew you from before and only recently discovered you were here at Trent.¡±  Pippa was a good liar when she wanted to be or she was a minimalist when it came to the truth.

    ¡°Yeah, we ran into each other in a coffee shop downtown.  I invited her to see the residence.  Do you know she¡¯s never even been to a pub?¡±  I was shortening my version of the truth as well and was hoping I was selling it well.

    ¡°Sounds like we¡¯ve got some drinking to do,¡± Bags chimed in.  Dr. Bags to the rescue!

    ¡°I¡¯m game if you¡¯re all game,¡± Pippa replied.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind a tour of the rest of the residence and other parts of the campus.  I¡¯ve been here all year and I haven¡¯t seen much outside of the section where the Business classes are held.¡±

    What was her game?  I hadn¡¯t seen her since the previous fall and now she was all sweet and friendly and wanting to be part of my new inner circle?  At least Libby seemed to think Pippa was sincere.  I decided I better tread carefully and watch for landmines.

    The four of us made a late afternoon of it and we gave Pippa the grand tour before having dinner.  I kept close to Libby while Pippa linked her arm with Bags.  I wasn¡¯t sure who I was more worried for, Bags or myself.  She certainly was enjoying herself and although I put on a brave face, I was more ill at ease than anything else.

    It was around eleven when we decided to call it a night.  Neither Pippa nor I had imbibed that much but Bags had made up for it.  Libby was somewhere in the middle.  I kept myself close between the pair because I wanted to hear anything Pippa might disclose to Libby and I was still searching for clues to Pippa¡¯s motivation for a day out with others her own age.  Maybe it was that she was tired of the young children and certainly her housemate was older than her.  I just couldn¡¯t buy she was suddenly interested in my campus life after dead silence for six months.

    ¡°Well, I guess you¡¯ll be wanting to get back downtown,¡± I said to Pippa as I steered us near a bus stop.

    ¡°Wow, I was having such a grand adventure that I lost track of the time.  Will you stay with me Jeff while I wait for the bus?¡±  She¡¯d been calling me Jeff all night.  She had picked up on the fact that no one else addressed me as Pink.

    ¡°Little lady, we will all chaperone you to your carriage,¡± Bags declared.  His verbiage became a little more eloquent as he became I little more inebriated.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s so nice of you to offer but I was hoping to have a few moments alone with Jeff if that¡¯s okay,¡± Pippa replied in response to Bags¡¯ offer.

    Bags shot me a warning look and Libby just stared ahead.

    ¡°Is that okay with you two?¡±  I asked.  ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you later.¡±

    ¡°Then I shall chaperone the other fair lass back to her domicile,¡± Bags replied.  ¡°Shall we dance?¡± he added.  He may have been drunk but I trusted him with Libby.  I also knew Libby could take care of herself and probably would be escorting Bags more than the other way round.

    ¡°I think you better let me lead,¡± Libby said to Bags.  ¡°Pippa, it was nice to meet you.  Jeff, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure if the last statement to me was meant to be a threat.

    Pippa and I took refuge in the glass bus shelter.  It was chilly and there was still a slight wind.  The area was deserted and still except for the occasional distance musings of Bags as he made his way back to the residence with Libby.

    ¡°Libby seems nice.  Is there something between you two?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to answer that.  I think about it sometimes.  Maybe she¡¯s a placeholder for now.¡±  It was the best description I could give my relationship with Libby.  It was somewhere between friendship and something else.  I was having a difficult time deciding what that something else should be.

    ¡°Like Bastien,¡± Pippa said quietly.

    ¡°Are you still in touch with him?¡±  Was mentioning him like offering me a crumb of information?

    ¡°We write each other and sometimes he calls.  He¡¯s a good friend but I think he¡¯s like your Libby.  I¡¯m not sure what he is to me.  A fallback maybe?  No one wants to be alone.¡±

    I decided it was time to be direct with her.

    ¡°Pippa, it was nice seeing you again and introducing you to my friends but I¡¯m still confused what today was all about.¡±

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know Pink.  I told you I was tired and warn and maybe I¡¯ve been feeling a little nostalgic.  Or maybe it¡¯s¡­¡±  She stopped mid-sentence and grabbed my face and kissed me.

    Suddenly I was back in the infield at Collegiate after the Long Relay and strains of ¡®Viva Las Vegas¡¯ was still sounding in my ears.  There was that warm feeling again.  I hadn¡¯t even seen the punch coming.

    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa,¡± I said pushing her away.  ¡°No, no, no.  I can¡¯t do this again.  I¡¯m not going to be blindsided this time.¡±  The warm feeling was spreading and then I found myself doing what I always did.  I grabbed her and kissed her back.  I walked right into the punch and I didn¡¯t care.

    We stood there and kissed for what seemed like ages.  We were only interrupted by the sound of the arriving bus.  A couple of students disembarked and the driver waited a couple of minutes before addressing us.  It was the same driver who had cursed at me when I had asked him to stop the bus after my first sighting of the running girl.

    ¡°Are you getting on?¡± he asked impatiently.

    ¡°No!¡± we both barked in unison.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± he said closing the door.

    ¡°Now what?¡± we both asked each other.  We were getting good at talking together as one.

    ¡°You first,¡± I offered.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Pink.  I was caught up in the moment.  Will there be another bus?¡±

    ¡°In another hour, I think there¡¯s one around midnight.¡±

    ¡°This shouldn¡¯t have happened.  I have to get back.  I shouldn¡¯t have kissed you.¡±  She was sounding nervous and apprehensive but not all that convincing.

    ¡°I believe I kissed you last,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°Oh, then it must be my turn,¡± she replied and then kissed me again.  We kept on kissing until we both started feeling numb from the cold.

    ¡°I think we should be getting inside somewhere.  We could go back to my room.  Bags is probably passed out by now and I did make my bed just for you.¡±

    ¡°Pink, this was never my intention.  I was just feeling vulnerable and lost and I reached out to you.  I guess old habits die hard.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Pippa, I¡¯ll wait here with you until the next bus comes.¡±

    ¡°Or we can go back and unmake your bed.¡±

    What was that I had said to Bags when he had asked me why I kept the last condom, I live in hope?  There was another phrase about hope that seemed appropriate at that time.  Hope Springs Eternal.

    We went back to my room and Pippa spent the night.  I struggled for a few moments when I couldn¡¯t find the SHIELDS pack in my desk drawer but then remembered its new hiding place away from Bags.

    I could say that the sex was amazing and that she was a great partner.  That was all true.  What I should also say was I regretted it when it was over and she was lying in my arms.  I had just made love to the girl of my dreams and I was still no closer to knowing what was going on.  Had I been played?  Had I been used?  Part of me didn¡¯t care but the other part worried about what had just happened.  What did this mean for my relationship with Pippa?  What did it mean for my relationship with Libby?  Bags would probably compliment me and caution me in the same breath about keeping with two women.

    Pippa fell asleep long before I did.  I lay awake wondering about the events of the day.  It had gone from what I believed to be a simple coffee to Pippa and I ending up in bed together.  I wasn¡¯t complaining but confusion kept sleep from me for a long time.

    When I awoke it was morning and Pippa was getting dressed.  I hadn¡¯t heard her get up.

    ¡°Oh, Pink, I didn¡¯t mean to wake you.  I have to get going.¡±  She said it so matter-of-factly.  Had she planned on slipping out while I slept?

    ¡°Wait.  When will I see you again?¡±  Was she seriously walking out on me again?

    ¡°Pink, it¡¯s early for explanations but let me say this was what it was.  You recognize how I am and I trust you.  I needed this.  It¡¯s important to me for so many reasons to still be connected to you.  I just can¡¯t do the day-to-day stuff like you want but I think you understand that.¡±

    Well, that was the punch that laid me out.  I¡¯d led with my chin so I shouldn¡¯t have expected a different result than the other times with her.  She had needed me, if only for one night, and maybe she¡¯d need me again in the future.  I didn¡¯t know how much punishment I could take.

    ¡°Do you want me to walk with you to the bus stop?¡±  That was the only question I could ask her.  I wasn¡¯t running on my own track anymore, I was running on hers.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s okay.  Remember, we agreed to just say until next time.  Until next time.¡±

    I got up from my bed and wrapped my blanket about me.  I watched her as she walked away down the hall.  I didn¡¯t hear Bags come up from behind me but I felt the blow to my midsection.  That time, he didn¡¯t pull his punch.

 19. Same Time Next Year

    I didn¡¯t see Pippa again until the fall.  I was resolved to the fact she was playing a long game and there didn¡¯t seem to be any rules but hers.  Reconciling with Libby and Bags was completely different.

    I told Libby the truth.  She wasn¡¯t shocked I had slept with Pippa because she had suspected for a long time there had been someone else and when Pippa showed up at my residence it confirmed her suspicions.  I decided to be completely honest with Libby.  I told her the version of events I had prepared for my pub performance.  I expanded to include the failed wedding details and Pippa reuniting with me on the anniversary of her brother¡¯s death.  I think sharing all of that with Libby gave her insight into not just my relationship with Pippa but into why I hadn¡¯t tried to pursue anything deeper with her.

    Libby and I remained friends but she didn¡¯t drop around as much after that.  We were civil with each other but nothing was really the same.  With Bags, it was almost back to the same old same old.  I had to explain to him what happened with Pippa as best as I could.  I think he finally understood I was hopeless and helpless when it came to Pippa.  I had a bruise from his last strike that I wore both as a mark of shame and a badge of honour.  He wasn¡¯t giving up on me but at least I was no longer a punching bag when it came to his frustration with me.

    Before the end of the school year, Bags and I were able to secure rooms in a house downtown.  It had been a typical house rented out by students and when senior students graduated, new students took their places on a sublease.  We were all set for the fall when we parted for the summer.  I went back to Belleville and nights at the Texaco and Bags returned to the suicide capital of Canada.

    I reconnected with Ben when I was home for the summer.  He was going to the local college in the fall to study horticulture and agriculture.  He had continued his employment with a local landscaping outfit and he and I ran the old track on occasion.  He was still with Sandra and when we talked we avoided talking about the women in our lives.  I acknowledged I had seen Pippa and we were on friendly terms but I didn¡¯t want to expand on it.

    My remaining years at University varied little.  In the fall I¡¯d find a ¡®Think Pink¡¯ notice in the paper and I¡¯d meet Pippa for coffee and catch up.  In March there¡¯d be another notice and we¡¯d spend the day together and then go back to my place for another more intimate reunion.  The third year was lather, rinse, repeat.  Our relationship could be summed as ¡®same time next year¡¯.

    Nothing much changed in Pippa¡¯s life.  She was still living with Beth and the children and still working toward her business degree.  She had stayed in Peterborough throughout the summers and continued to work on her business plan for Carlotta¡¯s.  As far as I could tell, she wasn¡¯t seeing anyone else other than the annual affair with me.

    I put very little effort into trying to find any other relationship.  The infrequency of my intimacy with Pippa left me a great deal of time to pursue other options but I just couldn¡¯t find it in me to look elsewhere.  Pippa wasn¡¯t my girlfriend but she was the excuse I told myself, and occasionally Bags, when I explained my unfettered life.  I could say I was focussing on my studies with the realization that there was someone waiting for me who was dictating place and time.

    Bags and I kept our rooms in the student house until we eventually graduated after our third year.  We were mature students with degrees ready to tackle the world.  Bags and I had experienced a great friendship at school and some uncommon misadventures.  One year, one of those exploits intersected with a March evening I spent with Pippa in my final year.

    Previous years had been either unseasonably warm or bitingly cold.  That year, we''d had a record snowfall the previous week and most of us were reasonably miserable about it.  Up the street from our house was a rival residence of students.    They were okay in their sorts as long as their sorts didn''t cross an imposed neutral zone or they didn''t draw too much attention to themselves or away from us.  But they made the mistake of doing so and aroused the wrath of Bags.

    It was that neutral zone thing and moving the spotlight that I refer to as their gross indignity.  You take a quiet street and you do a thing like that and get armageddon.  You take two peaceable groups and call one out and you get death.  You take a truckload of snow and build a fifteen-foot-high snowman and you get Bags...mad.

    It was a remarkable sight to see as we all glared at this thing casting a long shadow over our turf.  I couldn''t believe it myself and my housemates were just as stunned.  This thing was big! Not the snowman but the act of it just being there...occupying space that we had forgot to detail as ours in the original treaty.  When I studied ancient Greek history that year I was reminded of our unspoken agreement.  There were once some feuding armies who had to have some boundaries set out by a figure named Callias.  The ¡®Peace of Callias¡¯, as it was called, is still disputed by historians although ancient Greek writers detail strange adherences to these supposed boundaries by said armies.  Now, if we''d have had someone like Callias on our side we might have been able to lay down a better deal.  Imagine the other lot of students thinking anything above six feet, being generous as they were all puny as I recall, was actually theirs for the use.  We had been even more charitable to allow them the height of their residence and an odd scraggly tree and this was the thanks we received in return.  So we were right to be angered or miffed or whatever because this thing was trespassing on our limelight.

    I recall, to tell the truth, we weren''t all that put out by it as Bags.  It was he who mouthed the first words about it being an invasion or the like and how we couldn''t stand for such a thing.  The fact was we could have stood for such a thing because the rest of us had essays to write or books to read or girls to entertain or something else indoors that would keep us away from the windows...away from temptation or pot-shots.

    "It''s gotta go!" Bags would exclaim. "We can''t let it live" he''d bellow, "or we''ll never live it down!"  "Death''s in the air!"  The only things really hanging in the air were Bags¡¯ hurled insults.  Anyhow, it was to no avail because Bags had seen blood, all white, and he was out for it.

    Now, as I recall most of Bags¡¯ threats about anything were usually hurled from safe distances.  This, however, was building to be something different as he came pretty close to our end of the neutral zone to bombard that giant with blasphemy.  It was getting so that during any moment of the afternoon of that day of creation you could see Bags out the window threatening to make balls of the giant''s flesh cascade down the street.  Bags was obsessed with assassination while the rest of us were all obsessed with staying clear of shrapnel or controversy.  The former would only sting our posteriors but the latter would get ours thrown out of school.

    It happened however that sometime during the late afternoon of that fateful day silence fell upon our block.  Bags had been up and down that half stretch of street with his verbal assaults a number of times but by five had obviously sought other diversions.  It was the common belief he had sorted the smell of death from the smell of leftovers in our refrigerator and had decided a burger was more in order.  Just as well, we humoured, as leftovers are bad enough without having to savour Bags¡¯ promised baloney in the same mouthful.

    I lost track of most of my cohorts as that was the day of my annual affair with Pippa.  I didn¡¯t have better words to describe the yearly assignation with her so I¡¯ll let it go at that.  I had met her earlier at The Old Grind and we had gone out for dinner before retiring to my room for some personal time.

    It was about one o''clock the following morning and Pippa and I were asleep.  Suddenly, and more to the point, there was a loud ''thud'' on my door. I want to digress about that ''thud'' for a moment.  It''s important.  The sound as I recall was not exactly a knock but more like a last-ditch effort to lunge for a door before it sways out of your line of vision.  And that told me something.  Bags was awake, intoxicated, and ready to fulfill what I had thought were empty threats.

    I knew it was pointless to argue with Bags or to try and dissuade him.  My only hope however was to try and get him to embark on some long dissertation of past conquests or on the explanation regarding the suicide capital of Canada until he passed out, cooled off, or great multitudes were located in attempts to subdue him.  This last option, I must point out, was of course sheer fantasy.  There wasn¡¯t might enough among my housemates to contain Bags in that state and with that in mind I gave up any pretense of regaining control.

    I knew I had to face my destiny head-on, face the fates eye to eye, face the facts:  this thing was bigger than both of us!  A point of reference:  this snow giant was probably five times bigger than both of us!  So in an instant, Pippa and I found ourselves bundled up and off to battle.

    I must highlight that any given night at one in the morning would naturally be somewhat cooler than the temperature of noon on the same day.  The winter months, however, have the distinction of being somewhat colder when the primary source of light and heat are far removed.  Street lamps are all well and good but I''ve yet to know of a case where basking in their glow resulted in a sudden desire to strip to one''s undergarments.

    So it was cold and Bags was feeling no pain.  His inner glow was keeping him warm whereas I however had not consumed any pints of the lager of human kindness.  I was prepared for the worse and if frostbite was the inevitable then I said ''so be it''.  Actually, I was quoted more as saying, "Let''s hurry this (insert expletive here) thing up, Bags!"

    What occurred next boggles the mind and though a stretch for anyone''s imagination is indeed fact.  Bags had been approaching the enemy quite stealthily and had only refrained from a barrage of obscenity-laced threats because he was saving his prowess of might and mouth for combat.  At the halfway mark, a distance of still half a block, he broke into full gallop and assault mode.   At ten feet out he hurled the entire weight of his form into the midsection of the great beast and bounced off twice the entire length of its form.  The Goliath had become ice!

    Pippa and I realized that to the average uneducated person, pain would instantly be associated with an episode such as I have described.  I stress the word uneducated but should explain that this term I would apply only to those who have not experienced firsthand the inebriated state in which Bags found himself.  Bags during this adventure as you will recall was not uneducated and therefore pain did not register.  Not to say there wasn''t pain experienced by someone on the scene.  I was suffering from a sore chest cavity that was the result of extensive laughter induced by the aforementioned spectacle. Bags did not take exception in his momentary defeat but rather was insulted by the humour I found in his degradation.  This was no laughing matter!

    "This is no laughing matter!  You''re dead!" he shrieked.  This last exclamation I''m happy to say was not promised to either Pippa or myself.  No, we had not wounded his pride...it was the gargantuan.

    I''d like very much to detail the long and arduous contest of force fought by the pair of combatants but truth be told it was over in an instant.  Bags had smelled defeat, compared it to the aforementioned leftovers, and decided that he must champion this cause to the death.  The monster suffered quickly as Bags battered him from all sides.  The head went first and the rest flew off in their respective directions.  Bags was victorious!

    I stood there surveying the carnage for the moment and reflected upon what I had witnessed.  And it occurred to me standing there that this piece of history would go unnoticed eventually.  That come spring no one would believe a word.  That future passers-by would not realize a great battle had been waged here.  That didn''t matter.  Pippa and I knew.

    Pippa and I put Bags to bed in his room and returned to ours.  We giggled and laughed for a while before making love one last time.  I had Bags to thank for that because it might not have happened if he hadn¡¯t roused us from slumber.  I kept that little secret from Bags.  I was sure that dealing with a tremendous hangover and some well-earned bruises would be about all he could handle in the morning.

    The early morning conquest of Bags over the snowman was the last day I saw Pippa for a while.  I had a glimpse of her at the graduation ceremonies when she received her diploma but it was almost two years before I saw her again.  She remained in Peterborough and continued her living arrangement with Beth.  Pippa had never provided me with a mailing address or a phone number while she was at University and when I left the city after graduating, I even lost the connection to The Old Grind.

    I floated around for a few months trying to figure out what to do next.  Having a degree in English studies qualified me to both write and speak it but little else.  I had tried unsuccessfully at an Education degree by applying to Teacher¡¯s College but was turned down earlier in the year.  Rod offered me some work at the Texaco until the summer and then I let some student take over my night shift.  I even travelled to visit Bags up around Toronto.  He showed me all the sights he thought were fitting which included a trip to the bulk store where his sister Ruby worked.  Bags tried to nudge me a little in her direction but I wasn¡¯t interested.  That¡¯s not exactly true because there was a fleeting moment where I wondered if Ruby would turn out to be anything like Bags.  I think that was the tipping point that made me want to steer clear.

    In the fall, Bags called me up and invited me to apply and work with him.  Bags had secured employment with Merrivale in Toronto.  The agency, named after its founder Dr. Carl Merrivale and founded in the late 60s, operated group homes within the city and they were looking for staff to work with what they described as ¡®emotionally disturbed adolescents¡¯.  The minimum requirement was a degree either as a Child Care Worker or being in possession of a Bachelor of Arts.  The latter category described my qualifications and I thought it would be good experience on a r¨¦sum¨¦ if I chose to apply to Teacher¡¯s College again.

    I was successful in my application to Merrivale and was placed in the same home as Bags.  That¡¯s how I ended up in Toronto sleeping on Bags¡¯ couch for five months until I found a place of my own.  I spent two years in their residential program and then three years doing classroom support in their school program.  Bags left after three years and went to the University of Toronto to begin his arduous journey of becoming a psychologist.

    Even though I fell out of communication with Pippa, I was surprised to receive an invitation to the opening of Carlotta¡¯s.  The invitation had been sent to my parents¡¯ home and my mother had forwarded it on to my Toronto address.  It was the only way Pippa had of reaching me.  She had explained in an accompanying letter she had continued to live with Beth and the children and worked different jobs until she received some government support and a small business loan to be able to open her store.  It had been two years since our graduation and finally, her other dream came true.

    It was the summer of 1985 and I took some holidays to head up to Peterborough and to Pippa¡¯s grand opening.  Her new shop was in the downtown core and not far from our previous haunt of The Old Grind.  It was nice that some things hadn¡¯t changed at least.  There were streamers and balloons festooning the building and the window sported a hand-painted mural of a little girl at play in a beautiful outlet.  I couldn¡¯t help but think the girl looked like a younger version of Pippa.  Was this how she had been as a child or was this her representation of the younger fictitious Carlotta?

    The store was very busy for her opening day.  I saw many people lining the streets and waiting for an opportunity to enter the establishment.  I got in line behind some women with young children in strollers.  The line moved very slowly until I was even with the mural and I was able to peer through the window at the interior.  It took me a few minutes to spot Pippa as she was kneeling near a group of children and would occasionally pick one up while at the same time engaging with shoppers.  She was beautiful.  She looked like this truly was her element.  I was happy for her.

    I continued to watch the scene unfold on the inside of the store until I saw a gentleman walk up to Pippa and give her a long embrace.  It took me a moment to place him because he was older and sported a moustache.  A once-buried feeling of discomfort and competition swelled up in me as I recognized Bastien.  I felt like pounding on the window to catch his attention and then screaming at him to get away from her.  I did neither.  Instead, I watched for a few minutes and then walked away.

    The excitement of seeing Pippa had been one thing but having to face an old rival had been too much for me.  He was Quebec City and part of a story that had been kept from me.  I believed Pippa when she said there had been nothing between them but it had been two years and I wasn¡¯t prepared to share her with anyone.

    What had I been thinking?  For two years I had pursued a professional career and my personal life had stalled since last I held Pippa in my arms.  I had never lost sight of a future when we would someday reconnect and I always thought I¡¯d find a way to make it stick.  Bags had given up on me when it came to Pippa and I knew somehow I had also given up on myself.  I waited for Pippa and maintained optimism that we¡¯d be together again.  Seeing Bastien there had shocked me into the realization I¡¯d put my life on hold waiting for her to make the next move.  What was it she had told me once during one of our annual dalliances?  Bastien was her fallback because she didn¡¯t want to be alone.  What did that make me?  At that moment I felt like that made me an also ran.  I wasn¡¯t prepared for another competition only to lose.  Better to walk away, I thought, than to stay and have her put me through the paces and maybe not even be considered for the prize.

    I limped back to Toronto dejected and wrote her a short letter apologizing for not having made the opening due to a work emergency.  I addressed it to her care of her store.  I wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d really care.  If Bastien was back again I¡¯d stay where I was and let her come to me.  I included contact information with my phone number.  She never called.

    Work was a release at the time.  I enjoyed my job and found I could relate to some of the issues my teen clients were experiencing.  Many of them had issues trying to connect with their families and friends.  I understood some of that.  It had been difficult for me to form lasting relationships with anyone other than Bags and my confusion regarding my status with Pippa was an experience that allowed me to relate on some level to my clients.

    A year after walking away again from my last connection to Pippa, I transferred to the school program at Merrivale.  I was hired as support in a closed classroom to a teacher named Bruce.  Bruce and I hit it off.  He was older than I was but he was a great influence.  I was really there to help support any of the students who were struggling but sometimes Bruce would let me teach.  It was a roundabout way to get teaching experience but for three years Bruce would give me more and more to do as he sat back and helped me cultivate my skills.

    In my second year in the school program, I received another invitation and this was one I couldn¡¯t ignore.  Bags was getting married.  I hadn¡¯t seen much of Bags but occasionally we¡¯d go out and socialize.  He had already told me about Connie who had replaced me at the group home after I had left.  She was still working there when Bags proposed.  I hadn¡¯t met her but Bags¡¯ description was familiar.  All he said was he understood what I saw in treacle.  That was clear enough.  It made me think of Libby whom I had lost all contact with after graduating.  I thought of looking her up but I didn¡¯t know where to begin.  I decided it wasn¡¯t worth the effort or she wasn¡¯t.

    My invitation to Bags¡¯ wedding said I could bring a guest but I needed to let him know when I sent in my RSVP.  There were a few women I knew from Merrivale I was on friendly terms with but wanting to spend an evening with one of them was something to which I couldn¡¯t commit.  I¡¯d been on a few dates but being my partner at a wedding would be a big step.  I knew it was Bags¡¯ wedding but I felt like I might be on display if I showed up alone.  Mutual friends from Merrivale were already invited to the wedding and I didn¡¯t feel like being anyone¡¯s third wheel.

    I decided to write to Pippa and invite her to the wedding.  It was a bold move.  By then, it had been four years since we¡¯d last seen each other and save for the occasional Birthday or Christmas card our communication had dwindled to next to nothing.  Still, I wondered, would she come?  She knew Bags and she knew me.  Maybe one of those would be the convincing factor for her attendance.

    I was surprised when I received her response agreeing to be my date for the wedding.  I wrote back offering to arrange a hotel for her but she replied by asking if it was acceptable if she stayed with me.  Was it acceptable?  Of course, it was acceptable and even desirable, but was I getting ahead of myself?  It felt like a lifetime since I¡¯d seen her last.  How had her life turned out?  Was she still single?  How was Carlotta¡¯s going?  Was she still single?  Where was Bastien?  Was she still single?

    She arrived early on the day of Bags¡¯ wedding.  She had a car.  I laughed when I thought back on ¡®Operation Drive-In¡¯ and we¡¯d struggled to find someone who drove and had access to a vehicle.  We¡¯d come a long way.  Well, she had come a long way.  She was a professional woman now with a business and a car.  Was she still single?  I couldn¡¯t let go of that question.

    She was as beautiful as ever.  She¡¯d grown her hair long again.  Her face had matured and she was dressed in an amazing flower print dress.  I wasn¡¯t big on fashion but there were three times I remembered distinctly what Pippa wore.  The first was in old man Thompson¡¯s advanced English class when I first laid eyes on her.  I remember I loved her the first time I saw her.  She wore a formfitting white turtleneck sweater.  The second was on the day of our own wedding when she¡¯d worn the daffodil yellow dress.  I couldn¡¯t have loved her more even if she did leave me with a broken heart.  And finally the flower print dress for Bags¡¯ wedding.  Was she still single?

    ¡°Pink, it¡¯s so good to see you again.¡±  There was that infectious smile and that sing-song voice.  It still had a resonance that made me weak.

    ¡°You look nice.  I like your dress.¡±  Was that the best I could do after four years?  When she¡¯d been gone from me for eighteen months and I rediscovered her in Peterborough my first year at Trent, I¡¯d at least quoted Elvis to her.  The truth was my heart was in my throat.  It happened to me every time after I hadn¡¯t seen her for a long period of time.  It had been the same way when I looked in the window of Carlotta¡¯s and saw her with the children.  I shouldn¡¯t have walked away then.  I know I had given her a phony excuse about a work emergency but I wonder if she¡¯d believed that.  If only Bastien hadn¡¯t been there.  Was she still single?

    ¡°I guess you¡¯re single,¡± she said.  ¡°I wondered about that until I received this invitation.  It¡¯s been a while Pink.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Jeff.  Everyone knows me as Jeff here.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Jeff.  You like the dress?  Thanks, I designed it myself.  I had some help.  There¡¯s a woman who designs some of the clothes for my store but I drew up some sketches for this dress and picked out the material.  She did the sewing and hemming.  I¡¯m all thumbs when it comes to that.¡±

    ¡°The shop is going well, then?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Everything and everyone around me is a going concern.  But that¡¯s a good thing. ¡°

    ¡°We have time for a coffee before the wedding if you feel like catching up.¡±

    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure what to think of her question.  What did she mean by that?

    ¡°Just coffee, I swear,¡± I replied.  It was a clumsy answer and I was betraying myself.

    ¡°I just meant coffee at your place or a coffee shop?  Either¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s what I thought you meant.¡±  I felt like saying ¡®good save Jeff¡¯ to myself but I didn¡¯t want her to know how nervous I was.  I was positive, however, she already had her suspicions.

    ¡°Sounds good.  I guess I need to see where I¡¯m staying.¡±  She was very calm.  That made one of us.

    ¡°I made my bed this morning.¡±

    Pippa just stared at me and then recalled a long-off memory.  ¡°Oh, yeah, I remember.  Seems to me you made up for that.¡±  She gave me a smile that felt like either an inside joke or a warning.  My tension level went up two notches.  Just being around her again was bringing up a recollection of all the warm feelings.  That reminded me of Bags and his well-aimed punches.  He knew I was bringing Pippa.  I hoped he¡¯d behave himself for his bride¡¯s sake¡­and mine.

    ¡°Are you happy Jeff?¡± she continued.  ¡°I¡¯ve heard so little from you.  Your letters have been sparse on details.  I wish you could have been at the opening.  I would have liked to have introduced you to someone.¡±

    ¡°I saw him.¡±  It was out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

    ¡°Saw who?  What are you saying?¡±  The smile faded from her face.

    ¡°The truth?¡±  I took a deep breath.  ¡°I was there that day.  I was waiting outside to get in and I saw you with Bastien.¡±

    ¡°What?  Wait, why didn¡¯t you come in?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know Pippa.  I was uneasy at seeing you together.  I didn¡¯t want to go through that again.  I didn¡¯t like who I¡¯d become when I was around Bastien.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem to stop you at Roger¡¯s funeral!¡± she snapped.  ¡°I saw you two sitting together.¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t together!¡±  I snapped back.  ¡°I was there for you.  He just happened to come and sit next to me.¡±

    ¡°So where were you when I needed you these past few years? ¡°

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t know you needed me, Pippa.  You know your correspondence with me has also been a little light.¡±

    We were both standing opposite each other with our arms crossed.  There were daggers being shot from both of our eyes.  How quickly we had gone from pleasantries to combat.  I hadn¡¯t even started on making the coffee

    ¡°Pippa, I¡¯m sorry.  I didn¡¯t mean to lash out.  It was selfish of me not to be there for your opening.  I shouldn¡¯t have made it about me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry too, Pink, I mean Jeff, this is partly my fault.  I received your invitation to your friend¡¯s wedding and it stirred something in me.  I¡¯ve been so busy with the store and my Carlotta that I haven¡¯t even given myself a chance at a personal life.  I kept thinking you¡¯d be there when I eventually got around to you.  That¡¯s not fair to you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why we keep doing this to each other Pippa.  I kept waiting for you to call for me and I put my life on hold as well.  When the chance came to have you as my date to this wedding, I hopped all over it.  I told myself this was my excuse to reach out to you.  That¡¯s wrong too.  I shouldn¡¯t have to have an excuse.¡±

    ¡°You once told me not to say complicated, Jeff, but damn it, you and are complicated.¡±

    ¡°You can thank Dr. Bags for that one.  That was some of his free advice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time Jeff.  It¡¯s been almost ten years since you walked into my life and let me call you Pink.  It¡¯s been eight years since I lost Roger and it¡¯s been four years since you held me last and made me forget about everything.  If that isn¡¯t a complicated history then I don¡¯t know what is.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention Elvis on the infield and everywhere else.  Bags is an Elvis fan.  I wonder if they¡¯ll play any of his music at the reception.¡±

    ¡°Save a dance for me Pink?¡±

    ¡°All of them,¡± I replied.  I even let the ¡®Pink¡± pass.

    ¡°How about that coffee?¡± she asked as a diversion.

    ¡°Coming right up.¡±

    We drank our coffee and shared about our lives.  Most of hers had been about the store.  She¡¯d moved into a place of her own and was busy with all the Carlottas in her life; as she put it.

    I talked about my career with Merrivale and Bags and the wedding.  I updated her about my brother and his wife.  Rod had bought into a Texaco franchise and was running another station in town.  Rhonda had graduated from college and was running a home daycare out of a house that my parents had helped them purchase.  They were also expecting their own child in about five months.

    The wedding ceremony was nice.  Bags had a big family and his three brothers were his groomsmen and his two sisters, including Ruby, were in the bride¡¯s party.  Bags had lost some weight since university and looked nice in his tuxedo with purple cummerbund.  The bridesmaids wore matching purple dresses.  For my money, Pippa¡¯s dress was the best.  It seemed to catch everyone¡¯s eye.

    Bags had talked to me about the best man honours and hoped I wouldn¡¯t be offended he hadn¡¯t asked me to fill that spot.  He had a childhood friend he didn¡¯t want to offend.  As it turned out, it was better for me because I got to sit with Pippa in the church and at the reception.

    At one point during the wedding ceremony, I felt Pippa¡¯s hand reaching for mine.  I obliged.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice when a wedding comes off so well,¡± she whispered to me.

    ¡°Is that regret or a hint?¡± I whispered back.  Pippa just silently chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze.

    The dinner followed later with spirits and speeches.  After I had thought all of the speeches were told, the best man urged anyone in attendance to tell humorous stories about the bride or the groom.  Bags¡¯ sister Ruby shouted over to me to tell the frozen snowman story.  It apparently had made the rounds of the family.  I was going to deny her requests but the sheer terror in Bags¡¯ face and the shaking of his head to discourage me, only fueled my desire to launch into the epic tale.  After everyone laughed and cheered Bags came up and gave me a giant hug.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get you for this, Jeffy-boy,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± I whispered back.

    ¡°I see the running girl¡¯s back in your life.  Should I punch you now or later?  You know you¡¯re going to get hurt.¡±

    ¡°I know Bags,¡± I replied.

    Bags pretended to hit me in the stomach and everyone thought it was a jovial reaction to my retelling of his epic winter battle.  I knew better.

    Pippa and I spent a pleasant evening drinking and joking.  We both avoided sensitive topics or histories.  Even Bags invited Pippa to dance at one point.  They seemed to be enjoying themselves and I noticed they were talking among themselves.  I wondered what Pippa could find to say to Bags.  Was he warning her off of me? A few minutes later I learned the answer when the DJ played a very familiar song.

    Maybe I didn''t treat you

    Quite as good as I should have

    Maybe I didn''t love you

    Quite as often as I could have

    Little things I should have said and done

    I just never took the time

    You were always on my mind

    You were always on my mind

    Of course, we danced to it.  I held her tight and almost ten years swept us back to the avocado house and the first time she had sang those lyrics to me.  As we moved to the music, she leaned in and sang along with the recording.  I was seventeen again and hearing this girl I loved reveal her secrets to me.  What had happened to us?

    We danced every slow dance after that and it was late in the evening before we returned to my apartment.  I had hugged Bags one more time on the way out and he left me with familiar parting words.

    ¡°I told you once if someone hurts you and you keep lining up expecting something different each time but the hurt keeps coming, then you¡¯re either into pain or you¡¯re just plain stupid.  Let her go or marry her Jeff.¡±

    Pippa had been too busy saying goodbye to the bride to have heard Bags.  I wished I hadn¡¯t heard it.  I¡¯d been floating in a reverie all evening just being with Pippa again but Bags¡¯ sage wisdom brought me back into the moment.  His other words were ringing home to me as well: ¡®you know you¡¯re going to get hurt¡¯.

    Back at my apartment, I was wide awake but I began to yawn and pretend I was very tired.

    ¡°You can take the bed and I¡¯ll sack out on the couch,¡± I said.  ¡°I¡¯m all in.¡±

    ¡°Is everything alright Jeff?  I thought we¡¯ve had a lovely evening.  I¡¯m not that repulsive am I?

    I saw the trap and she was the same old bait.  I had been skirting around it all night and I was ready to leap headlong but Bags¡¯ parting words were holding me back.  I was going to get hurt.

    ¡°Pippa,¡± I began, ¡°you¡¯re the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever met.  I¡¯ve never met or been with anyone quite like you but we¡¯re not kids anymore.  We can¡¯t keep doing this.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that Jeff?  You invited me and I came.  Which one of us was the more desperate?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was a contest,¡± I replied.  ¡°I can¡¯t get you out of my system.  Every time I think I¡¯m over you, something comes along and I either get sucked back in or I walk willingly into your path.  What¡¯s wrong with me?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t answer that Jeff.  I have the same question for myself.  I¡¯ve left you a number of times but the opportunity to be with you again on these rare occasions is so compelling.¡±

    We both flopped down on my sofa as if dejected.  We were two minds with a single thought.  We both wanted to be with each other but knew it probably wasn¡¯t good for us.

    ¡°What do we do now?¡±  Pippa asked.

    ¡°We sleep on it.  Me, here on the couch, and you in the bed.¡±

    ¡°Will you lay with me Jeff, just until I fall asleep?¡±

    I¡¯d been there before.  She had asked me the same thing that night at my parents¡¯ home and it had led to our first act of lovemaking.  Was she baiting the trap again?

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t,¡± I replied.

    ¡°There¡¯s no hidden motive here Jeff.  I don¡¯t think we should go to bed angry.  If we just lay together with no intentions then maybe we can still be friends.¡±

    ¡°With no intentions?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not for my part,¡± she responded and then made the gesture of crossing her heart.

    ¡°What if I fall asleep first?  I¡¯m pretty tired.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll take the couch, Jeff.¡±

    I waited until she changed out of her dress while I went to the bathroom and donned pyjamas.  Everything that night seemed to be repeat performances out of our collective past.  She had sung that Elvis song to me and now we were going to innocently lie together on my bed.  At least, I thought, I was wiser and knew what to do in that type of situation.

    Pippa was in bed when I joined her.  This time we lay facing each other.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always remembered the first time I looked into your eyes,¡± she said.  I thought you had this soulful look in your eyes like you were lost.  Funny, it¡¯s still there.¡±

    In that moment I was reminded of the first time I heard her mention her own eyes.  My recollection went back to the first and only appearance of The Carlotta¡¯s.  I could still recall the lyrics.

    There are dark skies

    Behind my eyes

    You can¡¯t love a ghost.

    What I¡¯ve been

    And the things I¡¯ve seen

    Are what define me the most.

    ¡°There are dark skies behind your eyes,¡± I told her.  She stared at me for a minute before she got the reference.

    ¡°You remember that?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not much about you that I don¡¯t remember.  You¡¯re hard to forget.¡±

    ¡°Have you tried?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Me neither,¡± Pippa admitted.  ¡°What¡¯s that have to say about us?¡±

    ¡°Good friends or good liars.  We keep telling ourselves we¡¯re happy but I know for me, there¡¯s always something missing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to say my life is complete but I¡¯d be lying too.  It¡¯s full and I guess that¡¯s enough for now.¡±

    ¡°I understand that.  Bags said something to me tonight that¡¯s made me think.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Marry you or let you go.¡±  Her face hardened but she wasn¡¯t angry.  She was clearly pondering on my two choices and was wondering what I was thinking.

    ¡°Have you chosen one or the other?¡±  She was being earnest.  She really wanted to know my choice.

    I reached over and stroked some hair back out of her face.  Pippa had said my eyes betrayed a lost feeling in me.  She was right.  I was lost when it came to her.  I could tell myself I was fine when she wasn¡¯t around but the moment she lighted in my vicinity, I lost all reason.  For more than a decade I¡¯d been caught up in her orbit and sometimes I¡¯d coil in closer but then the closeness would send me spiralling out of control.

    ¡°If I asked you to marry me, what would be your answer?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Are you asking me to marry you or are you asking for my response to you asking me to marry you?¡±

    ¡°Is there a difference?¡±

    ¡°Maybe not but you haven¡¯t asked me yet.¡±

    ¡°Will you marry me, Pippa?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°now you¡¯ve asked me and that makes us even.¡±

    I looked at her with both hurt and confusion.  She hadn¡¯t answered my question and then she had replied with something more cryptic.

    ¡°I asked you once and now you¡¯ve asked me,¡± she clarified.  ¡°Now we¡¯re even.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question, Pippa.¡±

    ¡°No, Jeff, I won¡¯t marry you.  If I couldn¡¯t marry you all those years ago then how could I marry you now?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.  I thought you wanted me to marry you?  You were practically hinting about it.¡±

    ¡°Jeff,¡± she began, ¡°I didn¡¯t marry you when we were kids because I thought I was forcing you into something.  You and I had to both go out in the world and find our ways.  You¡¯ve found yours.  I¡¯ve found mine.  Are either of us going to give up the lives we built just to see if this is going to work?  Are you ready to give up everything you have here in Toronto to move to Peterborough with me?"

    ¡°I can¡¯t, Pippa, I have responsibilities.  How about you move to Toronto to be with me?¡±

    ¡°Same answer Jeff.  It wouldn¡¯t work.  I¡¯ve done a lot to build up my business.  It¡¯s more than that.  I have a life in Peterborough.¡±

    ¡°Placeholders,¡± I said quietly.

    ¡°What¡¯s the Jeff?   I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re taking up space in each other¡¯s lives until the real thing comes along.  Maybe I could be your fallback if nothing else develops.  Maybe I¡¯ll be like Bastien.¡±  I didn¡¯t mean it to be harsh but she had been the one who had described him once as her fallback.

    ¡°Not likely, Bastien¡¯s married.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I asked with too much glee.

    ¡°He took a job in Montreal a few years back.  He met someone and they got married last year.¡±

    ¡°Always a bridesmaid but never a bride.  I mean that for both of us.  How about the placeholder idea?  I¡¯ll be yours if you be mine.¡±

    ¡°How will it work?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to what we know.  Every year we¡¯ll meet on the same date and see where we are at with things.  If we¡¯re both like we are now, we spend time together and make plans for the following year.¡±

    ¡°What if you find someone, Jeff?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t yet.¡±

    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll look, though, Jeff.  Say you¡¯ll try.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never stopped trying.  I¡¯m a very trying individual.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem with both of us.  Maybe that¡¯s why we keep coming back to each other.¡±

    ¡°Same time next year?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Let¡¯s choose our own date.¡±

    ¡°What do you suggest?¡±

    ¡°The twenty-second of June.¡±

    The date wasn¡¯t lost on me.  It had been the ill-fated day of our own cancelled wedding.  It seemed appropriate enough.  Maybe we could make better memories to associate with the day.

    ¡°I like it,¡± I replied.

    ¡°See you then.¡±

    She lay quietly for a while and her eyes began to drift closed.  I believed she was asleep but I had to know for sure.

    ¡°Pippa, are you awake?¡± I whispered.

    She didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Pippa Bailey, I¡¯ve loved you since the first time I saw you.  Don¡¯t expect that to change.¡±

    She smiled in her sleep and I wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d been awake or the message had filtered through to her sleeping subconscious.  I decided to wait a little while longer for a response.  I kept on waiting and eventually fell asleep.  I never made it to the couch.

    She left early the next morning and we hugged long again in the street.  We had not made love the night before but all of our conversation lying together had been enough for me.  It would have to last until next time.  Those had been her words once, ¡®until next time¡¯.

    For the following four years, I saw her like clockwork on the date we had selected.  She always came to me.  I had wanted to go back to Peterborough but she always insisted she keep her business life and personal life separate and Toronto was always the break she needed.  Twice she stayed for just one night and twice she stayed for a couple of days.

    I did what was asked of me.  I dated other women.  I had some affairs.  I tried to live an uncomplicated life but I¡¯d purchase a new calendar early each year and would circle the day in June when I would see her again.  It was a good life.  The knowledge that she would come back to me annually kept me from having to make any serious commitments.  I didn¡¯t have to try very hard and if it ended with another woman, I chose not to have regrets.

    For her part, Pippa said she dated other men but I couldn¡¯t be sure.  She didn¡¯t offer details and I didn¡¯t ask.  When we were together we just lived in the days.  We¡¯d go out and enjoy ourselves at shows or concerts and we¡¯d retire to my place and we always made love.  There was no one like her and I knew she felt safe with me.  Same time next year became the descriptor for our relationship.

    I worked one more year in the Merrivale school program after Bags¡¯ wedding.  Bruce had encouraged me to reapply for Teacher¡¯s College and with the experience he gave me and well-written recommendation, I was successful.  Merrivale allowed me to work part-time in one of their other programs while I continued my education courses.  On graduation, Merrivale extended me an offer for a full-time teaching position to replace Bruce.  He had groomed me well and having approached retirement he had ensured his successor met his approval.

    Every year Pippa would visit me on the twenty-second of June and every year I was surprised by how much more I had to share with her about my professional life.  She¡¯d always ask me if I was happy and I answered honestly.  I was.  I had a great and rewarding career and every year like clockwork I saw the only girl I had ever loved.  I could see who I wanted whenever I wanted and there was no pressure for involvement.  Pippa was my placeholder.  I was hers.

    In the fifth year, 1992, she came to me again for the last time.  I should have seen it coming.  We were becoming different people or maybe I was. The previous four years she always seemed the same.  She was Pippa and she had her store.  The business was always doing well and nothing much else seemed to change.  She didn¡¯t share about her personal life and I just assumed she was living her life as freely as I.  She always came and she never complained.  I began to expect things would stay the same until we tired of each other or we agreed to marry.  That notion had long been on my mind but there never seemed to be the right conditions for it.  Bags had told me at his own wedding to marry Pippa or let her go but I never steered myself toward either possibility.

    We were both in our early thirties.  We spent no holidays or birthdays together and we told each other that our annual liaison was celebration for all the times we missed together in a year.  She came to Toronto as usual and she was more beautiful than previous years.  This wasn¡¯t surprising because I thought the same thing every June when she came to me.  There are some people who age well with grace and beauty and that could be said of Pippa but it was more than that.  The best way to describe it was she¡¯d finally become comfortable in her own skin.  There had been this merger of Pippa and her Carlotta into someone who was happy with herself.  It wasn¡¯t that she continued to be determined about what she wanted but more that she was solidified in what she had.

    ¡°Another year and I never tire of seeing you.  You¡¯re beautiful Pippa.¡±

    ¡°You say that every year Jeff.¡±

    ¡°And every year it¡¯s true.  What¡¯s your secret?  It¡¯s like your beauty radiates from the inside.  I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re here.¡±

    She had driven again and she had a new car.  Business must have been going well.  I had upgraded my apartment and I was excited to show it off.  We hugged in the street and then we went indoors.

    ¡°This is nice, Jeff,¡± she said after the tour.  ¡°It certainly is a step up from your last place.¡±

    ¡°I know where the coffee maker is now.  That last place was too small.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re happy?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Always.  Look at me.  This is me being happy.¡±  I was aware that I was grinning.

    She smiled and leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

    ¡°This is me being happy for you,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Thanks.  I¡¯ve worked hard at it.  But enough about me.  What about you?  Are you happy?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that coffee, Jeff, if you¡¯re offering.¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± I replied.  I began to bustle around in the kitchen.  It hadn¡¯t slipped passed me that she hadn¡¯t answered my question.

    When it was ready I served us both in the living room.

    ¡°Wow, you have a coffee table now,¡± Pippa said with some admiration.  ¡°I remember having to balance cups on my lap or on a cardboard box you never seemed to get around to emptying.¡±

    ¡°Everything in its place and a place for everything like they say.¡±  I was trying to be witty but also looking for an opening to ask her about her life.

    ¡°What about me?¡± she asked.  ¡°Do you have a place for me?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always the bed.  I¡¯ve upsized.  I have a queen-size mattress now.¡±  I was always nervous at the beginning of those yearly visits.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant Jeff.  I¡¯m asking how do I fit into your new life.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always got room for you in my life Pippa.  Are you no longer happy with our little arrangement?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never said I wasn¡¯t happy about it,¡± she replied.

    ¡°You also didn¡¯t say whether you were happy when I asked you about your life a few minutes ago.¡±

    She sat for a few minutes and pondered the depths of her coffee.  I¡¯d thought that the Pippa-Carlotta hybrid was a stable thing but I could see the Carlotta side holding her back from being truthful with me.

    ¡°Pippa, what¡¯s wrong?  Have I said something to hurt you?  I¡¯ll say I¡¯m sorry but you¡¯ve got to give me a hint what I¡¯ve done wrong.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t done anything wrong, Jeff.  This time it¡¯s me.  You asked if I was happy with this arrangement and I told you I never said I wasn¡¯t happy.  I¡¯m not happy about it Jeff.  Now, I¡¯ve told you.  We¡¯re not kids anymore Jeff.  What kind of life is this?  Every year we commit to seeing each other and every year I expect it will be the last.  I always think you¡¯ll find someone else or maybe I will.  Marry me or let me go.  That¡¯s what you said once, right?  Where are we with that?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it, Bags did.  Anyway, why do those have to be the only options?¡±

    ¡°Listen, Jeff, I came here to tell you something.  I wasn¡¯t sure if it was the right time but I see you now and I know it¡¯s not just the right time but it¡¯s the end of our time.¡±

    ¡°What are you saying, Pippa?¡±  Was she finally breaking up with me?  Could she even break up with me?  It wasn¡¯t like our relationship was a permanent fixture in our lives.  Same time next year didn¡¯t imply a commitment to each other.

    ¡°Look at you Jeff, you¡¯re a professional man.  You have a career and a new apartment and a queen size bed.  You only need someone in your life to make it all complete.  I kept thinking, no hoping, that each year you¡¯d cancel on me because there was someone else.  You need to find that someone.¡±

    ¡°What do I need anyone else for when I have you?¡±  I was beginning to panic.  What was she leading to?

    ¡°You know when you didn¡¯t come to the opening of Carlotta¡¯s I truly had thought you¡¯d found something better.  I thought your letter about a work emergency was your way of letting me down easy.  I wasn¡¯t disappointed, I was hopeful.  Then a couple more years passed and I didn¡¯t hear from you and I thought well he¡¯s finally moved on from me.  I accepted that because I kept telling myself that¡¯s what I wanted for you.  Then came Bags¡¯ wedding and it started all over again.¡±

    ¡°I never wanted anyone but you.  I¡¯ve loved you since the first time I saw you.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t asleep that night Jeff when you whispered it in my ear after Bags¡¯ wedding.  I heard you.  That¡¯s what makes this so difficult.  I had to keep coming to see if you were moving forward.  You went back to school and now you¡¯re a teacher.  That¡¯s amazing.  You even have a job you love.  The thing is Jeff, I kept waiting to hear from you that you¡¯re in a relationship.¡±

    ¡°What about our relationship Pippa?  Isn¡¯t that something?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not enough.  It¡¯s not enough for me and it shouldn¡¯t be enough for you.  I want a family and a life with someone that¡¯s every day.  Maybe you don¡¯t want those things.  That¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t but I¡¯m holding myself back and I can¡¯t help but thinking I¡¯m holding you back too.¡±

    ¡°What if we get married?¡± I asked.  ¡°That¡¯s one of the options.  It¡¯s got to be better than the alternative.¡±

    ¡°Would you give this all up Jeff?  The job?  The apartment?  The queen-size bed?  Knowing where the coffee maker is?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I would.  I¡¯ll start over.  I want to be with you.¡±

    ¡°Do you know how long I¡¯ve waited for you to say you¡¯d give it all up for me?  I longed for it and dreaded it at the same time.  How long would it be before you¡¯d begin to regret that move and then begin to resent me?  What if there were children?  Our children?  Would that be enough for you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be with you.  That¡¯s all I¡¯d need.  If children came along I¡¯d love them as much as I love you¡±

    ¡°A boy?  A girl?  What if one was Carlotta?  You don¡¯t understand Jeff.  I want a family too but I don¡¯t know even know what that means.  Look at my own family.  My parents are divorced and my brother¡¯s dead.  I blame myself for all of that.  What if I can¡¯t handle the fantasy family you want?  What if I began to resent you?¡±

    The conversation was spinning quickly into dangerous areas.  Why couldn¡¯t what I wanted reconcile with what she wanted?  I would quit my job and I¡¯d follow her to Peterborough.  That was my choice.  That was my choice.  It didn¡¯t help to repeat it to myself.  It also had to be her choice and clearly, it wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°So it¡¯s the other option?  I can¡¯t do that Pippa.  I can¡¯t let you go.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve done it before Jeff.  I¡¯ve forced your hand in the past.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but we keep coming back to each other Pippa.¡±

    ¡°Not this time Jeff.  Bastien has asked me to marry him.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?  I thought he already was married?¡±  Not Bastien again.  How many times did I have to lose to that guy?

    ¡°It didn¡¯t work out.  I don¡¯t know everything but he and his wife had a son together and he¡¯s trying for custody.  He needs me and I think that¡¯s the family I need.¡±

    ¡°But Bastien?  Pippa, it¡¯s Bastien!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand Jeff.  He¡¯s always been there for me.  We have as much history as you and I.  If not Bastien, then who?¡±

    ¡°Me!¡± I exclaimed.  ¡°Why can¡¯t it be me?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always been you, Jeff.  That¡¯s the problem.  I tried once to force you to marry me and it looks like I could do it again.  I can¡¯t keep doing that to you, Jeff.  You don¡¯t need me anymore.  I see it now.  Your life is here.  You have children of your own.  You¡¯re a teacher and you¡¯re moulding young impressionable minds every year.  Those are your children.  Every time I pushed you away or left you, it prodded you toward your future.  Here it is Jeff, you¡¯re brilliant future.  Don¡¯t give up everything you¡¯ve worked so hard for.  You did this Jeff.  You made your life.¡±

    ¡°No, you did this Pippa.  You¡¯re right.  I took the energy of losing you and not being able to hold onto you and put it into moving forward.  You did that Pippa.¡±

    ¡°I know I did Jeff and if being with you and without you brought you to this then I¡¯ll take that as a compliment.  Don¡¯t make me regret it.¡±

    She was right.  I was right.  I¡¯d never have accomplished so much if it hadn¡¯t been for all the drama and trauma in our relationship.  At last, it was the shining future I¡¯d long hoped for and there were no sharp edges¡­just one, letting her go.

    ¡°So how¡¯s it going to work with Bastien living in Montreal and trying to gain custody of his son and you managing a business in Peterborough?¡±  I knew the answer before I asked the question but I needed it confirmed.

    ¡°I¡¯m giving up the shop and moving to Montreal to be with him.  I¡¯ve found someone to buy me out and I¡¯m going to start anew when I get settled with Bastien.¡±

    How her explanation stung.  How many times had I asked her to change her life for me and move to Toronto?  I understood it though.  She was making the choice herself.  She wanted a family and she was going to have an instant one with Bastien.  If I¡¯d had that choice with Pippa then I¡¯d have made the same decision.  Marry her or let her go.  The third option, which went hand in hand with letting her go, was being happy for her.  I could do that.

    ¡°When are you going?¡±

    ¡°Soon.  I haven¡¯t given Bastien my answer yet but I¡¯ve put all my plans in motion.  I had just one more thing to do¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Getting up enough nerve to come up here and tell you goodbye.¡±

    ¡°Is it goodbye, Pippa?  Can¡¯t we just say until next time?¡±

    ¡°There isn¡¯t going to be a next time, Jeff.  This is all we have.¡±

    She leaned in and kissed me.

    ¡°I knew it,¡± she said.

    ¡°Knew what?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Knew that I¡¯d still feel something,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Is that a bad thing?¡±

    ¡°No, Jeff, it isn¡¯t.  Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°Anything,¡± I replied.

    ¡°Can I see that queen-size bed?¡±

    I obliged.  We made love one last time.  Neither of us felt guilty.  Her future was fixed and so was mine.  It was just two friends saying goodbye.  Two good friends who loved each other very much.  Two really good friends.

 20. Pippas Last Chapter

    I never saw her again. There were no phone calls or letters or even cards. The last notice was the one I held in my hand in my mother¡¯s kitchen telling me she was gone.

    For the first two years after she¡¯d told me she was marrying Bastien and moving to Montreal, I bought a new calendar every year and circled our date on the calendar out of an old habit. I stayed on at Merrivale for ten years and took care of my children. Their faces changed every year but they were still all mine. Pippa had done that. In her way, she¡¯d given me these children.

    I had a few long-term affairs but nothing lasting. I lived with one woman for two years but there was something missing from the relationship or maybe it was something missing in me. After a decade of teaching in Toronto, I decided it was time for a new future and a new adventure. Bags had become a psychologist and shared a practice with someone. He always offered me free counselling and he kept telling me to find out how big the world was. That¡¯s how I ended up in South Korea teaching English as a second language. It was the tonic I needed in my early forties. It didn¡¯t fill the hole in me but it was a distraction.

    I looked down at the Alumni Magazine and reread the notice of Pippa¡¯s passing. She had died on the seventeenth of August. That had only been five days after her forty-third birthday. It was a life cut short.

    ¡°What are you reading?¡±

    I snapped out of what had been a long reverie. It was my mother. I¡¯d been lost in my history of Pippa and it took me a moment to snap back into the present.

    ¡°Sometimes it doesn¡¯t rain but it pours,¡± I offered.

    ¡°What are you on about Jeff?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I was just reading in the Alumni Magazine about the death of someone I know.¡±

    ¡°Did you know them well?¡±

    ¡°She, mother. Yes, I did. Do you remember when I was in high school and there was that girl whose brother was killed in a motorcycle accident?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, she came over to the house once didn¡¯t she?¡±

    She had been over to the house on more than one occasion but I couldn¡¯t tell my mother about those other times.

    ¡°Yes, that was the girl. Her name was Pippa Bailey. She married a guy I knew and moved to Montreal.¡±

    ¡°Were you good friends?¡±

    How did I answer that?

    ¡°You once told me when it came to her to be a friend. You said I should do whatever I could for her and more importantly to try and do whatever she asked me.¡±

    ¡°And did you?¡±

    ¡°I like to think I did.¡±

    ¡°Then that¡¯s all that¡¯s important.¡±

    I hoped it was.

    I took the alumni magazine back to my room along with some of the leftover partially emptied bottles of liquor from my father¡¯s celebration of life. There was enough in a handful of them to toast long and hard to my father and Pippa. I passed out with an empty bottle in one hand and the curled-up Alumni Magazine in the other.

    I dreamed of her again. It had been a while.

    We were dancing together at a celebration of life for her. It was unique that the honoree was still living. All about were people we knew. There was Dr. Bags and Connie and Rod and Rhonda and a young Ben and Sandra. The room was also full of children. Some were my children from classes I¡¯d taught long past as well as Bags¡¯ children and Rod and Rhonda¡¯s three. Pippa spun off from me as Elvis music was playing in the background and the children danced all around her. This was Pippa as I¡¯d last seen her. She had come to me that time in a brilliant orange dress that seemed all at once to be all the colours of fire blazing and shimmering. The children encircled her while her dress became a real fire and consumed her and blazed into an encompassing funeral pyre. Suddenly Pippa stepped out and she was the girl from the mural at Carlotta¡¯s; all young and beautiful. I could hear Elvis and Sinatra singing together on the last refrain of ¡®Love Me Tender¡¯ and Pippa shone all bright and new while they sang ¡°For my darling, I love you and I always will.¡± She extended her hand and called out to me.

    ¡°Jeff. Jeff.¡± I slowly opened my eyes to reveal Ben Dawkins shaking me awake and calling my name. I didn¡¯t recognize him right away. It had been many years. I had heard long ago from Pippa that he and Sandra had married while I was working in Toronto.

    ¡°Ben, what are you doing here?¡± I grumbled. ¡°I was having such a lovely dream. You¡¯re a little late for my father¡¯s celebration. That was yesterday. If you¡¯re here to offer me condolences then it¡¯s a little early for that.¡± I reached for the pillow and covered my head.

    ¡°Get up. It¡¯s the middle of the morning. You can sleep later.¡± He reached for the pillow and the blankets at the same time and jerked them both onto the floor.

    ¡°Coffee,¡± I mumbled, ¡°for the love of god. Coffee and a damn good explanation why you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Coffee will be waiting. I need you to get up.¡±

    ¡°Shower first and then there better be coffee,¡± I moaned as I sat up and tried to clear the haze from my head.

    ¡°Okay, shower. We had to be quick to set things up. You didn¡¯t give us any time. If it wasn¡¯t for your mother then we wouldn¡¯t have known.¡±

    I got slowly to my feet and tried to decipher what he was saying. ¡°Set what up? Who¡¯s we? There better be coffee!¡±

    ¡°Your brother contacted me last night. Your mother called him first,¡± Ben continued. ¡°She said you were upset about someone else dying that you knew. We thought we¡¯d have more time. Sandra¡¯s been furiously getting things ready.¡±

    ¡°Ben, what are you on about? I haven¡¯t seen you in years and you show up now all mysterious and offer no explanations.¡± I realized I still held the Alumni Magazine in my hand but the last bottle was peeking out at me from under the bed.

    ¡°You shower and then we¡¯ll get going. Everything will be explained when we get there. At least, I hope it will.¡±

    I decided not to inquire further. He clearly wasn¡¯t going to offer up any new information. I quickly showered and shaved and put on some fresh clothes.

    ¡°Do you still run?¡± Ben asked as I readied.

    ¡°I¡¯ve kept it up. Ran a couple of marathons in Toronto for charity. My finishes weren¡¯t anything to brag about. Nothing like the Harrier, though.

    ¡°Nothing was like the Harrier. Do you still have gear?¡± It was then that I noticed Ben was in running shoes and sweats. He still had an incredible tan. Hadn¡¯t Pippa said something once about him doing outdoor work? My brain wasn¡¯t working properly yet. Maybe it would come to me.

    ¡°Yeah, wait, you¡¯re not suggesting we go for a run? I thought we had someplace to be?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure I was up for any physical activity but I wasn¡¯t prepared to let him know it. If he wanted a race, I¡¯d give him one but then I didn¡¯t know where his suggested finish line would take us.

    ¡°Lace up,¡± was all he said. I obliged. I had taken my shoes and running attire with me to South Korea and I had kept fit while I was there. I had to retrieve them from some of the luggage I hadn¡¯t yet unpacked.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked as Ben led me out of the house and into the street. I looked around but I didn¡¯t see any strange cars. Had he run over to my house or been dropped off?

    ¡°The route will become familiar enough.¡± Ben started to pace ahead of me and I took on the challenge and kept up.

    We ran through the neighbourhood and out towards our old high school. I hadn¡¯t seen it in ages. I always meant to during my brief visits home but it held too many painful memories. I looked for the track as we ran by.

    ¡°Remember the long relay, Ben? That was a lifetime ago.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I remember. I think you¡¯re still running it. Get ready for the handoff.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Skip it. You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± Where was he leading me and what was he leading me into?

    ¡°What are you doing these days Ben, if I¡¯m allowed to ask?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure what he had prepared for me but I thought this was at least a safe question.

    ¡°I have my own landscaping business in Peterborough.¡± That was part of the memory I had been searching for but I didn¡¯t recall any mention of Peterborough.

    ¡°Peterborough? How¡¯d you end up in Peterborough?¡±

    ¡°I thought you knew.¡±

    ¡°Knew what? I haven¡¯t seen you in years and my contact for news or gossip up and moved away to Montreal more than a decade ago. Now she¡¯s gone too.¡± That struck a chord. I had missed out on so much and there was probably even more I didn¡¯t know about.

    ¡°Sandra bought out Pippa. She¡¯s running Carlotta¡¯s.¡±

    That bit of information had been kept from me. The last time I saw Pippa she said she had a buyer but I never suspected she¡¯d keep it in the family; so to speak. I would have thought that fact would have hurt more than it did. I was glad the business had gone into good hands.

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t know. That¡¯s good news I guess for the both of you.¡±

    ¡°It was a no-brainer,¡± Ben replied. ¡°Pippa offered, Sandra accepted, and I followed.¡±

    ¡°And you gave up your life to pursue your wife¡¯s goal? I thought you had a landscaping concern here?¡±

    ¡°Gave it up. I wasn¡¯t going to stand in the way of Sandra¡¯s ambition. When you¡¯re in love you do what you can to make your partner happy. Like I said, it was a no-brainer. I built up a new business in Peterborough and we have two wonderful boys. I¡¯m hoping later on to change the business name to Dawkins and Sons. It has a good ring to it.¡±

    He¡¯d followed the girl. That had been something I couldn¡¯t do. I had tried to convince myself I could but I hadn¡¯t been very convincing to Pippa. She knew my real future lay elsewhere. I was glad it had worked out for Ben but I still couldn¡¯t help feeling jealous of his happiness.

    Ben¡¯s route continued past the school and down the hill and turned onto the first street. A memory of me chasing Pippa during the Harrier flashed through my mind. Next, we turned on the street where Pippa had lived and then Ben trotted into the driveway for the avocado house.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? What are we doing here?¡± My mind was still swirling from the night before and the vivid dream of Pippa. Was I still asleep and this was another extension of that fantasy?

    The avocado house was still there. The paint had been refreshed and there were some new windows and doors. Gone were the small covered porch and the brickwork-enclosed flower beds that had stood on either side of the front door. The paving stone walkway led instead to a new deck that measured the entire front of the house. There were some planter boxes attached to the railings of the deck in which some late blooming flowers were peering over the edges. The carport had also been replaced with a modern detached garage.

    I turned and looked at the yard leading to the street. The large tree in front was still there and another memory shone through of a sign with big pink letters encouraging me to RUN, PINK, RUN. Many of the other houses on the street looked the same will little changes here and there. The cars were more modern and there was evidence of children in other houses with toys and play equipment on other lawns. A young woman jogged passed me and was gone almost before I had realized she¡¯d passed. She looked familiar but different. It was no one I knew.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go inside, Jeff, the others are waiting.¡± Ben clapped me on the back and steered me toward the side door. ¡°I think we¡¯ll have some answers for you.¡±

    The small entranceway from the side door that led into the hall had not changed. Paint had been refreshed on the interior as well but the general layout was the same. I knew the way to the kitchen and I turned and followed Ben.

    There had been some changes over the years in the house and it looked brighter and homier than the last time I had been inside. There was new furniture in the living room and a new table and chairs set in the kitchen. Everywhere else were unopened boxes. Either someone was in the act of moving in or moving out. It was hard to tell. There still were no photos on the walls. Were they already packed away in anticipation of a move or yet to be unpacked? It was funny that in the more than twenty years since I had been there last, my old memories of these rooms and this new memory recalled the absence of photos both times.

    Rhonda got up from one of the kitchen chairs and came to hug me.

    ¡°Welcome back to the avocado house, Jeff. We¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±

    Sandra and Rod were there too. It struck me this might be some kind of intervention but I didn¡¯t think there was anything to correct in my life.

    ¡°Thanks, but whose house is this? What is this all about?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Pippa¡¯s or it was,¡± Sandra replied. ¡°Your mother called your brother after you learned of her death and then Rod called us. Pippa had given them my contact information before¡­¡± She trailed off and was silent. Ben got up and put his arm around his wife.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I offered. ¡°We hadn¡¯t seen each other for a long time.¡± I couldn¡¯t tell Sandra how much it hurt. I didn¡¯t want to grieve there in that house. There had been enough of that in the home all those years after Roger died. Just being in the house was making me uneasy with old memories.

    ¡°Pippa bought it earlier this year when she learned it was on the market,¡± Sandra continued. ¡°We¡¯ll explain about that. Sit down, Jeff. Ben, get him some coffee.¡±

    ¡°Where are your children today?¡± I asked of Rod and Rhonda. ¡°I didn¡¯t see them in the yard.¡± I took a look out a window facing the front. The young woman was passing again. I didn¡¯t have a full glimpse of her but she definitely looked familiar.

    ¡°Teddy and Jill are with Amber,¡± Rhonda replied. ¡°She¡¯s sixteen now and a pretty responsible girl. Of course, she¡¯s asking to get paid for watching her siblings. She¡¯s financially enterprising, that one. I wonder where she gets it from?¡± Rhonda stole a look toward Rod.

    Their children had been at my mother¡¯s the previous day for the gathering in remembrance of my father. There were other children and adults there as well that were either relatives or friends. I hadn¡¯t recognized half of them. I had spent too much time away to know all of them.

    Ben handed me a cup of coffee and we all sat around the table.

    Rod passed me a large envelope that had been in the middle of the table.

    ¡°You probably have a thousand questions little brother but I don¡¯t know the answers to half of them. All I know is we¡¯re supposed to give you this and you¡¯ll be able to figure it out from there.¡±

    ¡°We put it all together,¡± Rhonda chimed in. ¡°Some things Rod and I had for a while and the rest Pippa sent to Sandra before she¡­¡± Rhonda was choked off by emotion from finishing her sentence. I recognized whatever was to come was going to be tough on everyone.

    ¡°Open it, Jeff,¡± Rod urged.

    What was this all about? This was insane. There I was sitting in the avocado house with my brother and his wife and another couple consisting of an old friend and Pippa¡¯s cousin and I was being handed a mysterious package with bequeathed instructions from Pippa. I felt like pinching myself to see if I was still asleep. Maybe I could get back to that dream of Pippa rising like a phoenix from the fire.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I opened the envelope and emptied the contents onto the table. Out fell another envelope and some index cards. Something else was stuck in one corner of the envelope I had just opened and I had to reach inside to retrieve it. It was a gold band.

    I looked at Rhonda and there were tears coming from both of our eyes. Rod had hung his head to avoid me seeing his emotions. Ben and Sandra remained silent.

    ¡°Do you remember that night you both came to our apartment after your cancelled wedding? She gave me the ring and note cards and asked me to hold onto them for her. She said she¡¯d tell me when the time was right to give them to you. I guess she ran out of time.¡± Rhonda had spoken through her tears and I reached out and squeezed her hand.

    I tried on the ring. It still fit. It had been twenty-five years since she had left me at the bottom of the courthouse steps wondering if I¡¯d ever see her again. I remembered well that night at Rod and Rhonda¡¯s. She had told me how much she loved me and why she hadn¡¯t gone through with the marriage. She had also told me she was going to Quebec City.

    I picked up the index cards and began to read aloud.

    Jeff Carter, you are everything. You are everything good and loving and every wonder in all my days. You are everything true and right and complete in my life. You are everything to me. You quote Browning and you see the person who I want to be. I want to be the one who makes you happy. I want to be your first vision when you wake and your last when you close your eyes. There''s another Browning who wrote words I take now as my own truth. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood''s faith. I love thee with the breath, smiles and tears, of all my life and I shall but love thee better after death.

    I dropped the cards on the table and sobbed openly. I had thought my vows to her had been perfect but she had surpassed me. ¡®And I shall but love thee better after death¡¯. How prophetic were those words?

    I sensed Rod rise to his feet. ¡°I have to get some air,¡± he said and left the kitchen. I heard his steps followed by the opening of the side door.

    The rest of us sat quietly together for a few minutes and Rhonda hugged me and comforted me.

    ¡°There¡¯s one more envelope, Jeff,¡± Sandra said after composing herself.

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to read it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Please.¡± It was all I could say. I was a mess.

    She opened the remaining envelope and laid the papers out in front of her.

    ¡°There¡¯s a note here. It says ¡®Dear Pink, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me for calling you that one more time. This is not how I wanted you to hear this but I¡¯ve come to my last chapter and now it¡¯s time for you to write our story. In these pages are my final words and everything I should have told you before. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ve always loved you. Know that. Please be happy. Love, Pippa.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to read from the other pages?¡± Sandra asked.

    I was hesitant. It felt like everything in there might be too private for anyone else. I tried to imagine what Pippa would have wanted in that scenario. I decided to let Sandra continue and I¡¯d pretend it was Pippa¡¯s voice. I knew I wasn¡¯t in any state to read them myself.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I urged Sandra.

    She began to read and I listened to Pippa¡¯s words and tried to hear how she would have read me this concluding entry.

    ¡°Home was chaotic. My mother was always in tears and I think I had run out of them. I didn¡¯t know how to handle my grief. My brother was gone and my family was in shambles. I didn¡¯t know what to do. Pink was on my mind. I had caught a glimpse of him at the funeral and I wanted so much to see him¡­to be with him.

    Pink had been the one constant in my life during that time and I¡¯d pushed him away. I needed him and I needed him to need me. I decided to go to him and hoped he could help me make sense of everything. It was daring and dangerous to walk the streets late at night and try to find him at home and urge him to comfort me. He did it, though, without asking.

    He held me and said nothing and I knew I had made the right decision. My pain was overwhelming and Pink holding me stirred everything in me that I could not hold back. I initiated the lovemaking and I pushed every raw sad emotion aside. I wanted only that moment of being with him and nothing else mattered.

    We continued to make love over the coming days. I was blinded by the sensual relationship and I wanted it to continue forever. I proposed marriage to him and made a concentrated effort to make him want to marry me. He was hesitant at first but I pushed and cajoled and wouldn¡¯t give up. He had to be mine. I would not go back to all the bad feelings. Pink would be my husband and he¡¯d make me happy. He had to.

    In the weeks leading up to our wedding, I was focused only on making things happen as I had dictated. Pink aligned his thinking with mine and we were united on my goal of us being married. There were no other options I would consider.

    In time, I discovered to my sheer delight and horror, that I was pregnant. I couldn¡¯t understand it, we had been so careful. It came down to that night in his bedroom or possibly the next morning. We had been so caught up in our passion that we didn¡¯t think about precautions those first times. I did later on but by then it was, as I discovered, too late.

    What did this mean for our marriage? At first, I thought it didn¡¯t change anything. I wouldn¡¯t be showing in June and I could tell him later on. We¡¯d figure it out. Then I began to think telling him before the wedding was the right thing to do because then he¡¯d have to want to marry me. That¡¯s when I began to realize it was all wrong.

    Pink had another year of high school and then University. What would this do to his plans? My mind raced with the possibilities of how Pink would react. I swayed back and forth between the options of telling him or not. The wedding had to be my first decision. What was I to do about the wedding? Could I go through with it or did I tell Pink we had to cancel and not give him an explanation?

    I believed in my heart that going through with the ceremony was the right thing to do. Pink had become excited and committed to the plan of marrying me. I couldn¡¯t take that away from him. There would be time enough afterwards to sort things out.

    I tried to go through with the wedding but I was crippling myself with anguish. I was so happy to be carrying Pink¡¯s child but the thought that I would commit him to a future as husband and father at the same time was too much. I went through the motions of getting ready and following through but somewhere along the way, I realized I had only wanted everything for myself. I hadn¡¯t really given much thought to Pink and what he wanted. Of course, he¡¯d marry me if he knew I was having a baby. That was wrong, too. I couldn¡¯t start our wedded life thinking he was only marrying me in order to do right by me. When I started having morning sickness on the bus ride to the court house it was another sign that my insides were telling me I needed to focus not only on what was best for Pink but what was best for me and my child.

    The worst thing I have ever had to do was to walk away from Pink on the day of our wedding. His face showed how I had broken him. There is no worse feeling than knowing that you¡¯ve driven away the one person who truly loved you and you couldn¡¯t tell them the truth.

    I decided I would go away and have our baby and if we were meant to be together then it would happen. I was going to be a mother and was going to be responsible for her in every way. I was determined that I would make all the right decisions. If I wasn¡¯t prepared to trap Pink into this new family then I¡¯d go it alone. I didn¡¯t see my pregnancy as an accident or a mistake. It was an opportunity for me to take responsibility for my actions and to create a new life with a new life.

    I didn¡¯t tell my mother. I¡¯d need her in time but if she knew about the baby then she¡¯d convince me to stay and try to take care of me. She was still grieving Roger and I couldn¡¯t take that away from her. She¡¯d find out eventually but I couldn¡¯t stay in town and risk Pink finding out. I didn¡¯t want to hold him back. He was going to be a Teacher or a writer if I had to hide that baby from him forever.

    It wasn¡¯t right not letting Pink know but I¡¯d been forcing my vision of our ideal future on him and it had to stop. I had to let him find his own way. I wouldn¡¯t keep him from it.

    I told no one I was pregnant; not even my cousin. Of course, I had to reach out to someone for help. It was strange to think of Bastien as my saviour but he took the role on so readily and I needed some options. He offered up his home in Quebec City. He spoke to his parents and helped me make the plans. As if leaving Pink at the altar wasn¡¯t bad enough, having to tell him I was going to live with a rival of his, without revealing about the baby, was torture. It had to be done, though. I just hoped it would be the last time I¡¯d ever have to hurt him.

    Convincing my mother to let me go was just as difficult. I had to lie to her and withhold the truth. I told her it was going to be part of my healing process. We fought and argued and cried but she let me go.

    Bastien and his family were terrific. They nurtured me and cared for me and it was a family experience I hadn¡¯t had in a long time. They never asked me about the father of the baby but Bastien had already figured it out. He was so kind. He never asked me about Pink and made sure my every need was met.

    In the fall, I contacted my mother and told her everything. She came to Quebec City right away. There was a bit of a confrontation when she asked me if the baby was Bastien¡¯s. I told her he wasn¡¯t the father but as for the parentage of the baby that the only important thing was I was the child¡¯s mother.

    On the tenth of January, 1980, I gave birth to a seven-pound and eight-ounce baby girl. I named her Carlotta Pink Bailey. Bastien, alone, understood the middle name of Pink. My mother was the only one I would allow in attendance at the hospital. It brought us closer than we¡¯d been in a long time. When she held her granddaughter for the first time I believe it filled the hole left by my brother. When I held my daughter for the first time it was the most extreme sense of love and happiness I¡¯d ever felt. The only thing that took away from the birth was not having Pink there to share in it.

    I spent the next seven months in Quebec City with Bastien and his family with my mother visiting every other week. We watched Carlotta grow and I made plans for my own future with her. I was determined to get my education back on track. I applied to schools in Ontario with Business programs and was eventually accepted by Trent. My mother helped me out financially and with some student grants and loans, I was able to solidify the arrangements for moving to Peterborough.

    I found a nice single mother with room for Carlotta and I. Her name was Beth and she was raising her son on her own. Her husband was in the military and they had been separated for about a year. He wasn¡¯t going to be around much and the arrangement that Beth and I made would be mutually beneficial. We both took care of the children. I went to school during the day and Beth worked evenings. We took turns spelling each other off.

    In the fall I responded to an advertisement in the personal column of the student newspaper. Sometimes I had a habit of running at night when Beth was at home and Carlotta was fast asleep. Apparently, someone had noticed me one night and wanted to meet. I had no suspicions at the time it was Pink. It seemed like another adventure and the date and location of the meet-up appeared to be respectable and harmless. I was curious. It had just been Carlotta and I for a while and I felt special that someone had become enamoured enough to reach out to me that way.

    Of course, it was Pink. It had to be Pink. Whenever I felt like we were apart for good, something pulled us back together. It was uncomfortable and exciting at the same time. This was the first time I¡¯d seen Pink in well over a year and the first time he¡¯d seen me since I had given birth. Would he sense that big of a change in me?

    He was angry at me initially but we pushed through the tension and found a way to reconnect. We agreed to tell each other our stories. His was exactly as I remembered it but with some insights into how I had hurt him on several occasions. For my part, my account filled in some of the gaps but left out everything about our daughter. I didn¡¯t think he was ready for that. I certainly wasn¡¯t ready for him to learn the truth.

    It was nice seeing Pink again. The big problem was we were both still in love with each other. I thought I had given him the push to find his own path but he was still clinging to our past. It would have been easier if he¡¯d gone to any other school and we hadn¡¯t reconnected. Having him so close instilled a need in me to keep the contact open and ensure he kept on track with his own goals. I told him I¡¯d see him around but I secretly hoped I wouldn¡¯t. At least that¡¯s what I told myself.

    I didn¡¯t see Pink again until the spring. I was busy with school and Carlotta. I had also started to develop my plans for a children¡¯s clothing store and, with a nod to a previous suggestion from Pink, I was going to name it after my daughter. That made three Carlottas in my life. My daughter and the store idea continuously vied for my attention but sometimes the old Carlotta inside me struggled to make herself known. I was being torn in so many directions and it was difficult just trying to find time for me. The running at night helped but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    Beth kept pushing me to go out and have a personal life. She¡¯d begun to go on some dates herself and would remind me I was still young and I should go and experience things outside of our home. I didn¡¯t know how to do that. All of the Carlottas had been my main focus. I didn¡¯t know what else there was or even what I was supposed to want.

    Throughout the year I had noticed personal ads placed by Pink where he hoped to see me again. I avoided responding because I didn¡¯t want to lose my direction. I was working on my present and my future and I needed Pink to concentrate on his own. If he became aware that he had a daughter then he¡¯d switch his purpose and would try for a family life with us. I didn¡¯t want him to have to settle for a dream that wasn¡¯t his.

    I began to have bouts of depression in the new year and I knew it was time to take Beth¡¯s advice. It coincided with the anniversary of Roger¡¯s death and I could feel myself slipping further and further into myself. I had to find a way to recalibrate and get back to basics. My daughter needed me and I couldn¡¯t let her lose me to another entity that bore her name.

    I placed an advertisement in the same personal column in the student newspaper. It was simply ¡®Think Pink¡¯. I hoped it was enough to get Pink¡¯s attention. He had stopped placing his own notices a few months before that and I wasn¡¯t really sure if he¡¯d show up at our old rendezvous location. I needn¡¯t have worried because he was there.

    It was embarrassing and uncomfortable being with him again. I kept questioning why I had done it. Why was I there? What did I expect from him? I was trying to build my life and here I was inserting myself again into his. The truth was I felt safe with Pink. I felt right with him. Within minutes, all the old awkwardness faded away and I was Pippa Bailey again with the boy she loved. I wasn¡¯t a mother or a business student or even someone battling personal demons. I was me.

    I couldn¡¯t explain to Pink what it was I wanted from him. I wasn¡¯t sure myself. Beth had encouraged me to go and do something foolish and stay out all night if I had to. She would take care of Carlotta and I was under direct instructions to have fun. My problem was I didn¡¯t know what that should entail.

    The short version of the events of that evening was that I ended up in a pub with Pink and some of his friends. He had a female friend that tagged along and I was suspicious of her but curious as to what she was to Pink. I soon learned that what she was, in Pink¡¯s estimation, was a substitute for me. He couldn¡¯t explain it. I didn¡¯t think he was serious about her and he confirmed it when we found ourselves alone at the end of the night in a bus shelter passionately kissing and telling each other what we were doing wasn¡¯t right. It must have been right enough because we spent the night together. Neither of us regretted a minute of it.

    Pink and I had left it very casual. We agreed we¡¯d see each other around. For the next few years, I¡¯d see him in the fall to catch up and in the spring for more intimate enterprises. He was Carlotta¡¯s father and I needed to keep him close but I still wasn¡¯t at the point where I thought I could tell him the truth. We were both working hard on our studies and trying to figure out what came after University. My plans for the store were progressing and my daughter took up the rest of my time. Graduation came and went and it was two more years before I was ready for the opening of Carlotta¡¯s.

    I had sketched a design for the front window and an artist friend of Beth¡¯s painted my rendition into a wonderful mural across the glass. It pictured my daughter Carlotta in a fashionable spring outfit. I was surprised by how much the rendering looked like a younger version of myself. I sent out invitations to both Pink and Bastien. I hoped that both would make an appearance.

    I had kept in touch with Bastien since I¡¯d left Quebec City. He had been a good friend throughout my pregnancy and never pressured me in any way for a romantic relationship with him. He knew my vision was set forward on a life I was going to build for Carlotta and I. He would write me occasionally or call and I learned he had accepted a job in Montreal with a financial firm. He was also dating someone and I wished him well.

    I was surprised when Pink wrote and said he would attend the opening. I hadn¡¯t seen him for two years but I¡¯d kept in touch with him as I had Bastien. Pink was working in Toronto for an agency that specialized in troubled teens. I was sure he had probably drawn on his experience with me. The lack of contact felt like forward movement toward Pink¡¯s future. I had been hopeful to see him but I was happy he had a professional career he seemed to enjoy.

    Pink didn¡¯t turn up for the grand opening of Carlotta¡¯s. I was disappointed but when he wrote to me about a work emergency I understood he was finally able to prioritize his own needs over mine. It seemed like progress but it still smarted. I had worked myself up to finally telling him about our daughter. It felt like the right time. I had achieved my dream and he was living his. I was hoping there was some way we could align our lives and Carlotta could be a part of his. I knew it was wishful thinking. His absence made it easier for me not to follow through with my decision. Two years was a long time and I was sure we¡¯d grown further apart. I accepted it because it was what I had wanted for him all along.

    Two more years went by before I heard from him again. Communication between us had dwindled to the occasional card with short notes. He had moved into a supportive teaching assistant position and he was hoping it would give him the experience he needed to be a teacher himself one day. He was moving further and further from me but exactly in the direction I wanted for him. That¡¯s why it was so surprising to receive an invitation from him to his friend¡¯s wedding. It had been four years since we¡¯d last been together and I was sure he no longer needed me in his life.

    I hesitated about answering him but I was still friends with Beth and she encouraged me to accept the invite. She said I¡¯d regret it and would always wonder what was behind Pink¡¯s request. Beth also told me it was time to be foolish again. The store was a success but it kept me busy. My own Carlotta was seven years old and she was a going concern as well. It left me little time for anything else. Going to Toronto and being with Pink seemed like the diversion I needed at the time.

    Seeing him again was like every other time we¡¯d come together after long absences. I couldn¡¯t help but experiencing the same emotions again. At first, it made me bitter and I lashed out at Pink for letting so much time pass. It was my own fault. He was only doing what I expected of him. He¡¯d moved forward and his job was his life. That was where I found fault. I wanted more for him. He needed to find someone who wasn¡¯t me.

    The wedding was beautiful and so was the time I spent with Pink. The old sense that we were right together was still there. He was clinging too strongly to it. He even suggested we get married. We both realized however that would be a mistake. Neither of us was prepared to give up what we had built up for ourselves. It bothered me that Pink still thought his destiny was with me. I knew I wasn¡¯t good for him. We weren¡¯t teenagers anymore but every time we got together the old stirrings would be there and Pink would look to rewrite his future. I couldn¡¯t let that happen but then I couldn¡¯t just let him go.

    We devised an arrangement where we¡¯d come together each year on June twenty-second; which was the anniversary of the wedding date I¡¯d walked away from. I told myself it would be just checking in with an old friend but I made him commit to trying to have some kind of personal life in the interim. My hope was that he¡¯d cancel because he¡¯d had a better offer from someone who was better for him than me. For four years we met annually and we were those two love-struck kids all over again. I had promised him I¡¯d look for a life away from him as well but I never seemed to find time for it. Pink was my fallback but by keeping him in that role, I was encouraging him not to find the one he could be with.

    During those four years, I concentrated on the store and home. Carlotta and I moved into an apartment of our own. She was becoming a young lady and was asking a lot of questions I felt uncomfortable answering. When she asked about her father I would just say it was someone I loved very much but he was someone who couldn¡¯t be in our life. She came to accept my answer but she always wondered about my yearly visits to Toronto. She¡¯d stay with Beth and I¡¯d say I was taking a ¡®me¡¯ day or weekend or however long it took. She was smart and I didn¡¯t think I was fooling her.

    She and I took a trip one year to visit her Uncle Bastien and see him get married. She had been raised knowing Bastien and there were times when she suspected he might be her father. I kept telling her Bastien and I were friends and when he married someone else she began to accept what I had told her as the truth. I was happy for Bastien but I had described him to Pink once as my fallback and when Bastien got married that left only Pink as a future option. Maybe that¡¯s why I kept going back to Toronto every year.

    Pink was now Jeff and Jeff was now a teacher. He¡¯d gone back to school and received his teaching degree. I was so excited for him. Each year he seemed to become the man I had expected he would turn out to be. He went back to work for his old employer but as a full-fledged educator in their school program. Each year he was the happiest I had ever seen him. Each year I became a little more miserable. He had become Jeff Carter and gone was the boy named Pink. He even insisted on me calling him by his right name. Oh, I was happy when I was with him but the old passions didn¡¯t translate well to our adult life. We still found love-making exhilarating but each year I thought it would be our last together but I always found him alone and waiting. Professionally he was all he could be but his personal life had failed to launch. I knew I was still the cause of that.

    I began to date but it was difficult when every man I went out with seemed to find a better place to be when they found out I had a daughter at home. I didn¡¯t care. I had Carlotta and my store. My life was complete. I kept telling myself that but by holding on to my annual affair with Jeff I was telling myself otherwise. I wanted Jeff to find someone but I also didn¡¯t want him to have anyone but me. I hadn¡¯t grown in that aspect and I was preventing Jeff from fulfilling his potential in that area.

    Bastien and his wife began to have problems after a few years. I suspected I was the problem there too. I knew he still loved me. He didn¡¯t say it but I felt his marriage was him settling for something he couldn¡¯t have. They had a son, Emile, and Bastien thought that would bring them closer together. It had the opposite effect. He doted more on Emile and less on his wife until they found themselves going their separate ways. It was a difficult time for him at the same time I was going through a difficult phase with Jeff.

    Bastien would find any excuse to get away from Montreal and often he would end up in Peterborough and telling me of his troubles. Sometimes he brought Emile and Carlotta and I would go on outings with Bastien and his son. I didn¡¯t think it could happen but I found myself falling for this more mature Bastien. He was a wonderful father and loving friend. He began to fill the void in my life I could not have with Jeff. It wasn¡¯t long before he asked me to marry him. His divorce had been finalized and he was waiting for my decision.

    I¡¯d like to say I didn¡¯t know what to think when Bastien proposed but the truth was I wanted to say yes right away. I was ready to be someone¡¯s wife and give that part of me. Carlotta loved him, too, and it made sense to me in so many ways. I told myself I could be happy with Bastien and I¡¯d be a good stepmother to Emile and I knew Bastien would love and care for Carlotta as if she was his own.

    Jeff was the problem. I still loved Jeff. It was different though. We were clutching to a history and we weren¡¯t ready for the type of adult relationship I envisioned with Bastien. Jeff had told me there were only two options. They were marry me or let me go. When I kept going back to him I was keeping both of those options alive. I had to force his hand and have him realize that letting me go was best for both of us.

    I went to see him one more time. It was difficult but I couldn¡¯t see any other way. I told him right out I was marrying Bastien and moving to Montreal to be a family. I thought I was setting both of us up for a world of pain but Jeff¡¯s maturity was something I hadn¡¯t bargained on. I think he finally realized what was best for me was not what was best for him. He had his life in Toronto as a teacher and he had all his children in the form of his students. I was never going to take that away from him and I would never accept an alternative from him that saw him give all that up for me. I could give up my store and move to Montreal because I was building something better with Bastien; something better for me and something better for my daughter.

    I should have told Jeff about Carlotta that last time we were together but she¡¯d be the deciding factor that would make him select the noble choice of throwing everything away just to play family. I couldn¡¯t do that. I was prepared to sacrifice that dream I¡¯d had once of being his wife and the mother of his children. I was prepared to sacrifice that dream for a better one. If there was one thing I learned from Elvis, it was you gotta follow that dream wherever that dream may lead. You gotta follow that dream to find the love you need.

    I married Bastien that summer and by fall I had transferred the store to my cousin Sandra and I went to start a new adventure in Montreal. I opened a smaller children¡¯s boutique clothing shop in a mall and spent just as many hours being a loving wife and mother. Bastien was the husband I had denied myself and I loved him just as much in return. Carlotta was a wonderful sister to Emile and our family grew out of our love.

    I never saw Jeff again. We didn¡¯t write and we didn¡¯t call. Letting each other go had to be something permanent and there couldn¡¯t be any strings attached. I thought of him often as I imagined he did of me but my life was full and wonderful. I hoped his was as well.

    When I became sick and I realized all the passages of my life were closing, I knew it was time to tell Carlotta the truth. She needed to know her father and he needed to know her. My mother came to be with me for my final months. I told her the truth as well. She helped me buy the avocado house for Carlotta after I learned it had been put on the market. I wanted her to live there and make her own memories. It was there I knew she¡¯d find her father and it was there I knew Jeff would find the last piece of our love I had kept from him all those years.¡±

    Sandra placed the last page on the table and was silent for a minute. That¡¯s how I knew she was finished. It was Pippa¡¯s last chapter.

    All three of them could see the look of shock and wonder on my face. I had wanted to interrupt Sandra when I had heard I had a daughter but I had to let her keep on reading. These had been Pippa¡¯s last words and I had to hear her story. It was our story. And I knew I had to write it.

    I had shed tears with every line Sandra had read. I had never felt such despair and anger and pain. I also never felt so much love. Pippa had loved me and through that love, we¡¯d produced a daughter. This wasn¡¯t just any daughter. This was our daughter and now she was giving her to me. I knew what she meant when she wrote this was the piece of our love she had kept from me all those years. I understood it was also the piece that had been missing from my life. Carlotta was the last piece of Pippa I needed to be whole.

    I was silent myself for what seemed like ages. I kept staring out the window and thinking about how it had all begun. Run, Pink, Run. And how I had run! Pippa Bailey had been the best thing that had ever happened to me and now she was gone. But she wasn¡¯t gone completely. We had a daughter. Carlotta.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jeff,¡± Sandra began. ¡°Pippa told me not to say anything. She sent me these papers and she told us about the avocado house and to help Carlotta.¡±

    ¡°When Pippa reached out to Rod and I,¡± Rhonda chimed in, ¡°we had told Pippa where you were but she insisted we not do anything until you came home. We all hoped we¡¯d have a little more time to find a way to break it to you.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t really listening to them at that point. My mind had been swirling with the revelation. I thought of the young woman I had seen running on our way here. It was her. It was the girl from the mural all fully grown. Suddenly she was there again in the street running past the house.

    ¡°Excuse me, everyone. I have to go.¡± I dashed out of the house and past Rod who was leaning against his car.

    He called after me.

    ¡°Jeff, where are you going?¡±

    What could I tell him? I had a daughter and she was a runner. She looked just like her mother. This was the part of Pippa I had left. I had to run after her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Rod, I have to go. Can¡¯t you see? Pippa¡¯s passing.¡±

    -The End-

 21. Carlottas Way

    I held Carlotta in my arms. The sensation was unreal. You can¡¯t really describe what it¡¯s like to hold your daughter in your arms for the first time.

    I had loved her mother for so long that I should have known this would be the way of things. It would always end like this with me holding my daughter. Carlotta was always going to be in my life. It was Carlotta¡¯s way.

    Here was everything good that came out of my relationship with Pippa. All of the struggles and the griefs and the complicatedness associated with us melted away and blended into this daughter in my arms. It was like I said, indescribable. All that running and all those races came down to this. This was what was waiting for me at the end of the ultimate finish line.

    ¡°You have your mother¡¯s eyes,¡± I said to her. It was true and simple. She did have Pippa¡¯s eyes. Pippa had once described the first time she looked into my eyes and thought I had this soulful look in my eyes like I was lost. There was nothing lost in Carlotta¡¯s eyes. If anything, they implied something found. Gone were any dark skies behind these eyes and I was reminded only of words I had penned for my vows. ¡®You look at me through eyes of total faith and a doubtless commitment to our uncertain futures.¡¯

    ¡°I think there¡¯s something of her father in those eyes.¡±

    I turned to look at Pippa lying in the hospital bed. She was so beautiful. It was almost impossible to think that less than an hour before, she had blessed us both with this bundle of joy.

    ¡°Carlotta Pink Bailey,¡± I muttered

    ¡°Carlotta Pink Carter. I told you I¡¯d take the name into consideration.¡± She was right. It had been a joke shared between us all those years ago but now it was come true. ¡°When you¡¯re finished making your goo-goo eyes at our daughter, I¡¯d like to hold her for a while.¡±

    I obliged and gently transferred Carlotta to Pippa¡¯s waiting arms. She cradled Carlotta with one hand and patted the bed for me to sit next to her.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to tell our families about her, sometime, you know,¡± I said. I knew it would come but at that moment there didn¡¯t exist a need. My immediate future was those two lying in the bed next to me.

    ¡°Not now, Pink. Right now I just want to be with you and Carlotta. Who cares about the rest of the world?¡± She turned her face and kissed me. I knew that kiss. I¡¯d felt it before.

    ¡°That¡¯s a screw them all kiss, isn¡¯t it?¡± I didn¡¯t need her answer. Memories of the infield at Collegiate came flooding in and I remembered that long kiss. She¡¯d said ¡®screw them all¡¯ and then she¡¯d kissed me. It meant she wanted only the moment with me. This day was no different. She wanted only the moment with me¡­and our daughter.

    ¡°I¡¯m tired Pink. Will you lay with me?¡±

    ¡°Happily.¡± There was no indecision. I remembered that question from before. I had questioned it but eventually had given in. I had no will when it came to Pippa.

    I stretched out and snuggled in closer to her as best I could. She placed Carlotta between us. I felt there was no place safer in the world at that moment for our daughter.

    Pippa ran a hand along my face and stroked my cheek. ¡°Tell me our story, Pink.¡±

    ¡°Now? I thought you were tired.¡±

    ¡°I am, but I want Carlotta to hear it. All kinds of memories are flooding in and I think everything has led us to this moment. I remember lying with you once and saying this right here is my dream, you and I together forever.¡±

    ¡°And Carlotta,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°And Carlotta. Tell her our story.¡±

    ¡°From the beginning?¡± I never could deny Pippa anything but it seemed absurd to be lying there with our daughter between us and having Pippa request our story.

    ¡°No, from the ending. If it wasn¡¯t for the ending, she wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± She smiled and stroked my face again.

    She was right. It wasn¡¯t that she was always right but I found it easier to agree with her than to put up an argument. Not all good stories started with the ending but this one did.

    ¡°I thought it was the end,¡± I began. ¡°It seemed like the end. Your mother had left me in Toronto and she said she was going to marry Bastien. If that¡¯s not an ending then I don¡¯t know what one is. Fortunately for you Carlotta, that was not the real ending.¡±

    I stood in the street and watched her drive away. This can¡¯t be how it ends, I thought to myself. Bags, that¡¯s your Uncle Kevin, had told me to marry her or let her go. At that moment I believed I had made the wrong choice.

    ¡°I need to talk to Bags,¡± I said aloud. No one else was near or they would have questioned this man standing in the street talking to himself. They might have also looked into my eyes at that moment and seen someone who was lost.

    I couldn¡¯t reach Bags. He might have been working. He might have been studying. I left a message with Connie. I left several. It was late in the afternoon and I was panicking. I couldn¡¯t bear to be alone. I left a final message with Connie and said I was going to the Fuzzy Llama. It was a pub Bags and I used to frequent when we first started working together at Merrivale. I¡¯ll explain to you later, Carlotta, when you¡¯re much older, what a pub is, and why you should never let a friend convince you to give an oral recitation of your unfinished story in a dark pub in front of strangers. That, too, is a story for another time.

    By the time Bags found me, I was well on my way to drowning my sorrows. The truth was I didn¡¯t even know if they were sorrows. I¡¯d had a good run with Pippa and I had nothing to be sorry about. We¡¯d been same time next year for so long that I didn¡¯t really have much to regret. Did I?

    ¡°Order me a beer,¡± Bags said as he sat down opposite me after what seemed like hours, ¡°and start from the beginning.¡±

    ¡°Where the hell have you been? Never mind Bags, it¡¯s not the beginning I¡¯m having a problem with, it¡¯s the ending. Pippa¡¯s gone!¡±

    I had signalled to a waitress and she had set a glass of beer in front of Bags and made her exit; all while Bags pondered my state and my statement. He took a long sip of his beer before responding.

    ¡°Dead?¡± Bags asked. I knew he was going to ask that and I also knew he knew she wasn¡¯t dead. He was just playing with me and trying to disarm my thought process. It was typical Dr. Bags therapy.

    ¡°No, not dead! Wait, stop messing with me Bags. You already knew that. Gone. Left me. Marrying Bastien. Never to be seen again.¡± The explanations were coming out in short spurts. I¡¯d imbibed a little too much and I didn¡¯t think I could string together long detailed sentences.

    ¡°So, you let her go? You finally made a decision. Honestly, Jeff, I didn¡¯t think this thing would carry on this long between you. No wonder the ending is hard on you. You strung it out too much. When I told you to marry her or let her go, I thought you¡¯d have launched at either option right away. You¡¯ve only got yourself to blame for how it ended.¡±

    Bags was doing better than me and making a good deal of sense more than I could. It smarted nonetheless.

    ¡°But Pippa¡¯s gone! What do I do now?¡± I leaned across the table and looked him in the eyes. What would he see in my eyes? Would he see that lost soul that Pippa said lurked sometimes within me?

    ¡°I suppose you better start at the beginning and give me everything,¡± Bags said. ¡°Give me everything or give me everything you can remember.¡± I knew that was a dig at my inebriation but I let it pass.

    ¡°I told you, Bags, it¡¯s not the beginning I have a problem with.¡±

    ¡°Then start at the ending,¡± he replied, ¡°and work backwards filling me in on what you know.¡±

    It made no sense but I obliged. I started with the ending and how Pippa and I had made love one last time and how she had driven away. I explained how she was heading back to Peterborough and how she had said she was going to marry Bastien. I worked my way in reverse and let him know about our annual affair and how it started after his wedding. I explained how it had been casual with no commitments and how marriage had been broached but never seriously considered. Some of it he knew and some he heard for the first time. I tried to keep from crying because I didn¡¯t want to come off as a blubbering drunk with regrets. I¡¯m not sure I was all that successful.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯ve lost here Jeff?¡± Bags had listened intently but that question almost made it seem like he hadn¡¯t heard a thing I¡¯d said.

    ¡°What do you mean, what have I lost? I¡¯ve lost Pippa! Didn¡¯t you pay attention to what I said?¡± I felt like leaning across the table again and grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him. I wondered what his response would have been. I decided against it because I needed Dr. Bags and all his sage wisdom and I needed him as my friend even more than that.

    ¡°I heard you, Jeff. My question is, again, what have you lost? Is it love or lust? Do you miss that warm feeling she gives you when you¡¯re together or are you regretting the loss of opportunity that you two could have had so much more? Or maybe you¡¯re just missing me having to hit you every time she came around so I could bring you back down to earth?¡±

    ¡°It sure isn¡¯t that last bit!¡± I fired back.

    ¡°Then you have to figure out what it is you¡¯ve lost. I can¡¯t help you with that Jeff. I could sit here and tell you that you should have married her a long time ago but being married myself, I can tell you the day-to-day is a lot harder than once a year.¡±

    ¡°Pippa said that to me once,¡± I mumbled.

    ¡°Said what Jeff?¡±

    ¡°She told me our current relationship wasn¡¯t enough for her. She said it wasn¡¯t enough for her and it shouldn¡¯t be enough for me. She wants a family and a life with someone that¡¯s every day.¡±

    ¡°So what have you lost Jeff?¡±

    ¡°Every day Bags, every day. Now, she¡¯s going to marry Bastien and he¡¯s going to get my every day with her.¡±

    ¡°Listen, Jeff, I think you need to find a way to rewrite your ending. I can¡¯t tell you how to do that.¡± He grabbed my near-empty glass and pulled it to his side of the table. ¡°And this,¡± he said, waving it in front of my face, ¡°isn¡¯t going to help. Go home, Jeff. Go home and find your answers.¡±

    Bags signalled for the waitress and asked for the check. He counted out enough to cover his one drink and all of mine.

    ¡°This time the beers are on me. Go home, Jeff. That¡¯s where I¡¯m going.¡±

    Bags got up and left. I watched after him for a few minutes and then made my way to the street to hail a cab. Bags had told me to go home. I could do that. Rewriting my ending was something I¡¯d have to figure out for myself.

    I had a week left of school to focus on before the summer break. Even that was difficult. How could I look at the faces of all of those children Pippa had given me and realize not one was a direct product of a union of Pippa and myself? Wasn¡¯t that part of the shining future?

    My mind was swirling with everything Pippa had said to me before she left. I¡¯d told her I¡¯d give up everything to be with her. She responded by saying she¡¯d waited a long time to hear those words but wondered if doing that would truly make me happy. She questioned how long it would be before I¡¯d begin to regret that move and then begin to resent her. What if there were children? Our children? Would that be enough for me? My response had been to say being with her would be everything I¡¯d need and that if children came along I¡¯d love them as much as I love her.

    That was all part of that shining future. I also remembered all the times I¡¯d glimpsed that future and yet it always remained out of reach. It had always shone so brightly it blinded me to everything else. I had almost married her because I had lost that future once to Steve Wilson and I¡¯d been afraid of losing it again when she¡¯d come back to me. Now, where was my shining future? It was no more same time next year and no more Pippa. She had said there isn¡¯t going to be a next time; this is all we have.

    She¡¯d told me she had always loved me but that was the problem. She said I didn¡¯t need her anymore because my life was in Toronto and I had these children of my own. Her explanation was that I was moulding young impressionable minds every year and these were my children. These were my children¡­without her. So much for that shining future! This couldn¡¯t be the end. This couldn¡¯t be the ending either of us wanted. I kept telling myself that.

    The next day was work and I had to get myself back into shape. I slept long and dreamt wildly. It was a nightmarish vision of chasing Pippa down the street and never catching her. The roadside was thronged with Elvises. All of them kept encouraging me to ¡®Follow That Dream¡¯. It made no sense. I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock and tried to drown myself in a cold shower and black coffee. It might have been a new day and I might have been more on the sober side but the problem still persisted. Pippa was gone and she wasn¡¯t coming back.

    It was the final week of school before the summer break. Somehow I made it through. It was good to have something to focus on through the day but the nights were long and lonely. I¡¯d lie awake thinking of our ending. Bags had said to rewrite my ending. Could it be that simple?

    I thought back on what else Bags had said to me. He said I had to understand what it was I had lost. That was easy, Pippa was gone. Gone but not dead. Bags had tried to distract me with that one. I hadn¡¯t taken the bait. She wasn¡¯t dead¡­just gone¡­but not dead. Rewrite my ending. That¡¯s what Bags had said. Suddenly it was there. I had to tell our story like Pippa had asked me once but this time there had to be a different ending.

    I hadn¡¯t written anything in a long time. I had always wanted to write or be a teacher. Writing had been the one thing I¡¯d put on the back burner and hadn¡¯t gone back to. There was a story to tell. I had to try and give it away again. No storyteller this time. I had to write it all out but with the new ending.

    Pippa was dead. I¡¯d start with that and work backwards.

    ¡°Thanks for that, by the way,¡± Pippa chirped. ¡°You wrote me out of our story!¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s telling this?¡± I responded. ¡°You told me to tell the ending. This is part of that ending.¡± I looked at Pippa lying next to me and expected to see hurt but it wasn¡¯t there. She loved me. That¡¯s what was in her eyes at that moment. I decided to continue.

    Pippa was dead, but not really. Still, I had to start with that. I¡¯d look at that future without her and begin from there. I¡¯d write her out of my future and see if that helped.

    I struggled with the ending. I didn¡¯t want to think about her death; even if it wasn¡¯t real. Death was too permanent and even though she said we had reached the end of our time together, I wondered if I was missing something. I kept thinking there was a message I wasn¡¯t grasping.

    To write an uncertain and fictional ending was difficult. It wasn¡¯t coming easy to me so I decided to try another tactic. Bags had said to go home. I¡¯m sure he meant from the pub but part of me thought that maybe I should go home. Go home to see my parents, Rod and Rhonda, the old locales that had been part of the larger story. Go home for inspiration.

    I hadn¡¯t been home in a while. Toronto was my life and home held nothing for me. There were painful memories of Pippa and losing her at the avocado house and being abandoned outside the courthouse. There had also been those joyous moments of kisses outside the Texaco and more physical memories in my room and her mother¡¯s car. There was also all that running. The running reminded me of Bastien. How could I be losing again to Bastien? She had said it had always been me but now it was Bastien? Nothing made any sense to me. She had made love to me after telling me she was marrying someone else. What was that all about? I needed some answers and I needed a way to move on from the ending Pippa had offered me and the one I wanted to write. I hoped home would help me figure things out.

    I spent some time with my parents and re-examined everything as I lay awake at night in my old bedroom. Memories of Pippa had been tied in with that room as well. She had come back to me after Roger¡¯s death and we¡¯d made love in that bed. Had it been simpler then? We¡¯d made love and then we had agreed to get married. It had been more than a dozen years since then but I could swear the scent of her still lingered in that room. How did we get from saying I love you to we have no more time together?

    I did some running when I was home. I went out and ran the track and then deliberately ran the old Harrier route and out past the avocado house. Pippa had told me her mother had moved on from the avocado house while Pippa was in Quebec City. It was too bad, I would have liked to have gone through it one more time. Some of my best and worst memories had been inside that house or in the carport. I thought once that my ending with Pippa had been there after our first breakup and she¡¯d referred to me as no one at all. I began to think that maybe my new ending should somehow be tied into the avocado house.

    Of course, I had to see Rod and Rhonda. Rod and I still weren¡¯t overly close but whenever I went home I made a point to pay them a visit. They had two children now, Amber and Teddy, and they lived in a nice house in a nicer part of town. Amber was five and Teddy was two. I was an Uncle. I also barely knew these children. They¡¯d been born away from me and had grown with only a few visits from me over the years. I was happy for my brother and his wife but going to see them reminded me of everything I was missing. Rod had his every day and I was not going to have mine with Pippa.

    I deliberately timed my visit to an evening when I expected less chaos in their house. Rhonda was still operating her home daycare but the evening would find only Amber and Teddy there if they weren¡¯t already in bed. I was happy to visit with my niece and nephew but what I really needed was some adult wisdom or insight. Given that one of the adults was my brother, I wasn¡¯t sure if his advice would be welcome or freely given.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Jeff,¡± Rhonda said after we retired to the living room. I had arrived a little earlier but apparently, it was Rod¡¯s night to tuck in the children. I had said my hellos and goodnights to Amber and Teddy and watched briefly from the doorway as Rod read to Amber from a storybook. I was an expert on warm feelings from dealings with Pippa but seeing Rod with his children brought a warm feeling that also made me very uncomfortable. I connected it to that every day that Rod had that I would never have.

    ¡°Rod¡¯s pretty domesticated. How did you manage that?¡± The change in my brother was remarkable. He was no longer as gruff around the edges. It had been a gradual transformation but it hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed.

    ¡°Your brother¡¯s so much more than the boy you grew up with. Give him some credit.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean any offence,¡± I replied. ¡°It¡¯s a compliment. I think I need to give you some credit for it, too.¡±

    ¡°All the same, he works hard at it. He¡¯s a good husband and father. Two kids and counting.¡±

    I looked at her with confusion. ¡°And counting?¡±

    ¡°Number three is on the way.¡± She rubbed her abdomen to signify.

    ¡°Congratulations, do you know what it is? Boy or girl I mean.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be happy with either. We¡¯re thinking of naming the baby after either your mother or your father.¡±

    ¡°Jill or George? Here¡¯s hoping you have a girl. I love my dad but I wouldn¡¯t want to wish the name George on any baby. I¡¯d put an end to that name option if I were you.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯d suggest Jeff?¡± she asked; following it with a little laugh.

    ¡°Carlotta Pink,¡± I mumbled.

    ¡°What did you say, Jeff?¡±

    ¡°Oh, nothing, something Pippa said to me once.¡±

    ¡°How are things with you and Pippa?¡±

    How did I answer that? We¡¯d gone from extolling Rod¡¯s virtues to babies to Pippa. Was she hinting at something? What was she sensing in me? What could she see behind my eyes?

    ¡°That¡¯s done. She¡¯s moved on.¡± I said it matter-of-factly as if it was of no consequence to me when in fact the consequences of Pippa ending things was the only thing that haunted me.

    ¡°Who¡¯s moved on?¡± Rod asked as he rejoined us.

    ¡°Pippa. We¡¯re not seeing each other anymore.¡±

    ¡°Is that thing still going on? I thought you ended that with her ages ago. What¡¯s that all about little brother?¡±

    ¡°Well big brother, I honestly don¡¯t know. Maybe you and Rhonda can help me figure that out.¡± I wasn¡¯t being sarcastic but I realized I was the one sounding gruff around the edges. ¡°Sorry, let me explain.¡±

    I went into the details of the same time next year arrangement I¡¯d had with Pippa and how it had started after Bags¡¯ wedding. On previous visits with Rod and Rhonda, if they asked me if I was still involved with Pippa, I¡¯d answer that I¡¯d see her around occasionally. They didn¡¯t press me for answers those times and I didn¡¯t think I needed to explain myself. Sitting there with them in their home, with their children sleeping in other parts of the house, I got a sense of how seeing Pippa ¡®occasionally¡¯ didn¡¯t really have great or lasting significance. Rod and Rhonda had an everyday relationship and I fully realized what the something more was that Pippa wanted. She wanted what my brother and his wife had. She wanted a relationship like theirs, maybe a home, and maybe a Carlotta Pink Bailey.

    ¡°That¡¯s how it ended,¡± I concluded. ¡°She left me and she¡¯s going off to Montreal to be with Bastien.¡±

    ¡°It all sounds kind of screwy to me,¡± Rod responded. ¡°She sleeps with you after some other guy asks her to marry him? Who does that?¡± I hadn¡¯t left out that fact when retelling our ending but I didn¡¯t expect Rod would focus only on that detail.

    ¡°I think you¡¯re right to question that ending, Jeff,¡± Rhonda added. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ve told us everything?¡±

    ¡°Everything I can remember. She said she wouldn¡¯t marry me but she could marry Bastien. And Rod¡¯s right. Who sleeps with another guy after she tells me she¡¯s going off to marry someone else?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always something with her,¡± Rod piped up.

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± I asked. I was starting to get a little defensive; not of myself but of the woman I¡¯d just lost.

    ¡°Listen, Jeff, Rod may be on to something,¡± Rhonda interjected. It seemed strange that regarding my love life that my brother suddenly was right twice. I¡¯d have to hear this out for myself to understand it.

    ¡°About what?¡± Rod and I had both asked the same thing simultaneously.

    ¡°Well,¡± Rhonda continued, ¡°it¡¯s always been about gestures with Pippa. She ran onto the track during your race and serenaded you with ¡®Viva Las Vegas¡¯, she came to you in the middle of the night after her brother died, she proposed marriage to you and then jilted you, she ran off to Quebec City, she practically stalked you at Trent and ruined any chance at a relationship you might have had with that girl Libby, and she goes to a wedding as your date and then comes to see you every year after like clockwork. And now she tells you she¡¯s going off to Montreal to marry Bastien but she stops to sleep with you one more time. Rod is right about that last one. It sounds kind of screwy but if you look at everything, she¡¯s always been making some kind of gesture for your attention; some more extensive than others.¡±

    I stopped to think on what Rhonda had just said. It was true. Everything was orchestrated by Pippa. She always came to me. I never went to her. She came to Toronto and I never went to see her in Peterborough. The only grand gesture I ever made was to show up at the opening of her store and even then I¡¯d walked away without her knowing I¡¯d been there.

    ¡°Wait a minute, how did you know about all of that?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think I ever told you some of those details.¡± How did Rhonda know? She certainly hadn¡¯t learned them from me and I hadn¡¯t detailed everything to Rod.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s time I shared something with you,¡± Rhonda replied. She got up and was gone from the living room for a few minutes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me little brother,¡± Rod tried to explain. ¡°This is all a mystery to me, too.¡±

    Rhonda returned and in one hand was a bundle of letters held together with a rubber band. In the other, was a large envelope.

    ¡°Open the envelope first,¡± Rhonda said handing it to me. She held back the bundle of letters.

    I emptied the contents of the envelope onto my lap. There were index cards and a gold wedding band. I looked at Rhonda with a confused expression.

    ¡°Do you remember that night you both came to our apartment after your cancelled wedding? She gave me the ring and note cards and asked me to hold onto them for her. She said she¡¯d tell me when the time was right to give them to you. I think the time¡¯s right now.¡±

    I picked up the cards and read from them. These were the vows she had written for our wedding and the ring was to have been her gift to me as her husband. Reading the vows, I was struck with such feelings of sadness and hurt. I was also filled with a sense of happiness. She had told me she loved me too much to go ahead with the wedding. The vows expressed how much she loved me. Thinking on how things had recently ended with us I realized how much things were the same between us. She never stopped loving me. I¡¯d loved her since the first time I saw her and I¡¯d never stopped either.

    Without thinking, I had slipped on the ring. I became aware of it when I began to scan the cards again in my hand.

    ¡°Did you read these?¡± I asked of Rhonda as I held up the index cards.

    ¡°No. I never thought they were mind to read,¡± she replied. ¡°I was just holding onto them. I think they belong to you now. Do you want to share what¡¯s on them?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡± I wasn¡¯t being selfish or trying to punish her for having withheld them from me for all these years. What was in them was too personal.

    ¡°Fair enough but I don¡¯t mind sharing these with you even though they were written to me.¡± Rhonda passed over the bundled letters.

    ¡°What are those?¡± Rod asked. ¡°I knew you had the envelope but not the letters. Why didn¡¯t you tell me about them?¡± I was sensing Rod was also a little frustrated with Rhonda. Okay, I guess I was feeling a little resentful as well.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°For the same reason I didn¡¯t share them with Jeff. They were written to me. There are some personal and private things in there I didn¡¯t think Pippa wanted me to share.¡±

    ¡°And now?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Well, Jeff, I think you came here looking for some answers. I don¡¯t believe Rod or I can give you what you need. Only Pippa can do that but these letters are probably about as close as you¡¯re going to get to figuring things out¡­to figuring her out.¡±

    ¡°Like I said, sounds kind of screwy to me,¡± Rod exclaimed while throwing his hands up in the air.

    ¡°Let me try and explain to both of you but mostly for Jeff¡¯s benefit,¡± she continued. ¡°When Pippa was here that night she gave me the envelope with the cards and the ring, she told me she was going off to Quebec City. I blamed myself for her running out on you at your wedding. The other time we met, when you two asked Rod and I to stand for you at your ceremony, I had told her to make sure that getting married was something you really wanted. I didn¡¯t want to place any doubt in her mind but it was there already. It took a long time for me to realize the doubt was hers and not mine. The letters explain a lot of that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you,¡± I offered. ¡°But what¡¯s with all of the letters?¡±

    ¡°She asked me that night if she could write to me. I didn¡¯t think she really would but the letters started coming and they¡¯ve continued up to now. The last one was a few weeks ago when she said she was going to break it off with you. I didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d follow through with it until you told me tonight.¡±

    ¡°But why you?¡± I asked. ¡°Why didn¡¯t she write me or even her cousin Sandra?¡±

    ¡°The answer regarding Sandra is simpler than why she didn¡¯t write you. Sandra was family and she was trying to distance herself from that. Some of the letters explain the way it was. If I had to make a guess why she didn¡¯t write you I¡¯d say she was waiting for something from you first.¡±

    ¡°Waiting for what?¡± None of this made sense. Rhonda had a decade''s worth of letters and the only one I had received in that time had been an invitation to the opening of Carlotta¡¯s.

    ¡°Your gesture, I think.¡±

    Rhonda¡¯s response was simple and to the point. Maybe Pippa had been waiting for a gesture from me. But hadn¡¯t the ads in the Trent paper to the running girl been gestures? I had to think about that one for a moment. The first ad had been at Bags¡¯ insistence. It hadn¡¯t been my idea. Other postings had been my desperation to get back in touch with her. After that, ¡®Think Pink¡¯ and spring and fall reunions had all been controlled by her. Even ¡®same time next year¡¯ had been her idea with her always being the one to come to me. She had been waiting for a gesture from me. Even inviting her to Bags¡¯ wedding hadn¡¯t been so much of a gesture as me not wanting to go alone. I wasn¡¯t sure what type of gesture it was she wanted from me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t read the letters now,¡± Rhonda went on. ¡°Take them with you and read them. I think it¡¯s all in there but it¡¯s up to you to put it all together. I don¡¯t know if you and Pippa are really finished but I do know one thing.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°She loved you very much. I secretly wondered if she expected me to share these letters with you. I didn¡¯t think it was my place but I might have saved you some grief if I had let you know about them.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Rhonda,¡± I offered, trying to ease her guilt. ¡°I¡¯m a big boy, I knew what I was getting myself into.¡±

    ¡°You may be a big boy,¡± Rod threw in, ¡°but you¡¯re still my little brother. Let big brother offer you some advice. Let that girl go for good or marry her. You¡¯re going to suffer until you do.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t believe it. Rod had counselled the exact same advice Bags had after his wedding. Let her go for good or marry her. Of all the words my brother could have offered those were the most insightful. I thought I had made my choice when I saw Pippa last but I still wasn¡¯t so sure.

    ¡°I have one other thing I should give you, Jeff,¡± Rhonda said. She grabbed at her fingers and made a twisting gesture. ¡°This really belongs to you, too.¡±

    I accepted the ring she had removed from her fingers. I recognized it as the one I had bought for Pippa but had given to Rod after Pippa had walked away from our wedding.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s yours. I gave it to Rod and he gave it to you.¡± I had been Rod¡¯s best man at their wedding and he had given it to Rhonda. It had only been back in my hands briefly before their wedding when Rod entrusted it to me to give it to him to place on Rhonda¡¯s finger during the ceremony.

    ¡°Thanks for that little brother but I decided to eventually buy my wife one that was from me.¡± Rhonda held up her hand to show the one she sported on her ring finger.

    ¡°I¡¯ve kept it safe for you. I thought one day I¡¯d give it back to you when Pippa and you finally did get married. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯ll ever happen now but it¡¯s yours again.¡±

    I looked at the ring. I had two rings. I had the one Pippa had meant for me and now my own ring had come back to me. Was this a sign? Did it signal closure or possibility? I knew for sure that it was going to be part of whatever new ending I created for myself.

    After meeting with Rod and Rhonda, I went back to my parents¡¯ home to look over the letters. I thought about drinking my way through the reading but Bags had told me at the pub I needed to find a way to rewrite my ending and that alcohol wasn¡¯t going to help. He¡¯d also told me to go home and find my answers. He had been right about that as well and I believed the answers were somewhere in those letters.

    I read long into the night. The letters were absorbing. Here were many of Pippa¡¯s personal thoughts laid bare to me. Some of the details were simple day-to-day things about her life and her mother and later on Trent and her store. Stripping all of that away, there was also our story. Pippa had told Rhonda about how we¡¯d met and our friendship and then our courtship. She¡¯d even exposed details of her abuse and Roger¡¯s death and how both of those events had driven her into my arms.

    She talked about our first break and using Bastien to make me jealous. She explained the deal I had offered if I had beaten Bastien in the Tri-Mile event and how she¡¯d been disappointed when I lost. She also said she had suspected I had lost on purpose. That surprised me. I thought Ben had been the only one to know that secret. Maybe I was still running that race. It seemed to be a marathon between Bastien and I with a back and forth over the years for Pippa¡¯s affection. Was this how it was going to end? Was I going to let him win again?

    I tried to push that out of my mind. I had told Bastien once there are trophies in competitions but just try referring to Pippa as a trophy to her face and he might not like her response. She wasn¡¯t some sort of prize. She was her own person and only she was allowed to decide who she wanted to be with.

    I read on. There were numerous letters written from Quebec City. Pippa had been sad and lonely. She felt she had hurt me permanently by leaving me. She wanted to hear from me. She wanted me to come and find her. Her letters kept asking Rhonda of news of me and why she thought I hadn¡¯t written.

    How could I have written her? I didn¡¯t know exactly where she was. It wasn¡¯t like I could have asked her cousin or even her mother! Thinking back on it, with the letters disclosing Pippa¡¯s thoughts, I understood I had made no effort. There had been no gesture from me. I had accepted she was gone and I had tried to move on. That wasn¡¯t what either of us had wanted. I could have done more. I should have done more.

    The truth came out about other things as well. She had thanked Rhonda for the information she had shared about me and for letting her know what University I had chosen. She had applied to Trent deliberately so she could be near me. That wasn¡¯t what she had told me that first time at The Old Grind. She had lied and said she would have gone somewhere else if she¡¯d known I was at Trent.

    It all became clear. She had orchestrated everything because she loved me and she wanted me to know it. But she also wanted me to prove I loved her and wanted to be with her. It was all about the gesture again.

    Same time next year was in there, too. She told Rhonda how it had been her idea because Pippa couldn¡¯t let me go. She had almost given up on me until she had received my invitation to Bags¡¯ wedding. She thought I had moved on from her and was happy for my professional life in Toronto. When she¡¯d seen me again she knew we both loved each other but thought I wasn¡¯t willing to take the next step and so she came up with the idea of an annual reunion. She believed that if she kept herself in the race that we¡¯d both finish together. It was almost comical to read her make that comparison to a race. Hadn¡¯t I always thought I was still running a race when it came to her?

    In every letter I was Pink. She never referred to me as Jeff. I understood. She had said it was always me. In her world, I¡¯d always been Pink. It was like being tender inside and not overdone. If you¡¯re in the pink then you¡¯re just right. Maybe that was it. I was just right. It had always been me and she said she felt right with me. She was correct in those letters, I had always been Pink. Jeff was a professional someone who wasn¡¯t fulfilled. Jeff wasn¡¯t in the pink. I knew I had to embrace being Pink.

    Her final letter was the most interesting of all. She wrote to Rhonda that she was going to end our annual relationship. It wasn¡¯t that Pippa could see a future with me but she wasn¡¯t sure that I wanted a future with her. She wrote of wanting more and she didn¡¯t think that was what I wanted. She wanted to be with me all the time. She was hinting about that everyday relationship she had told me about. The most curious thing about the final letter was the absence of any mention of Bastien.

    I reread the final letter. It was true. There was no word of Bastien. I went back over the letters she had written during our same time next year arrangement. There was some news about Bastien and how he¡¯d married and had a son and how he and his wife had separated. There was nothing in there about an amorous relationship that had built between Pippa and Bastien. Why had she kept that from Rhonda? I had focussed so much on my parts in the letters that I had failed to notice that Bastien didn¡¯t play as big a part as I thought he should have in Pippa¡¯s life. What did it all mean?

    I lay in bed with all the revelations from the letters swirling around in my head. I had sought answers and now my brain was full to bursting. What did I do next?

    It was late before I finally fell asleep. I dreamed of her. It was our wedding but this time there were many others there. We were dancing and the room was filled with people we knew. The room was also full of children. Some were my children from classes I¡¯d taught long past as well as Rod and Rhonda¡¯s two. Pippa spun off from me as Elvis music was playing in the background and the children danced all around her. This was Pippa as I¡¯d last seen her. She had come to me that last time in Toronto in a brilliant orange dress that seemed all at once to be all the colours of fire blazing and shimmering. The children encircled her while her dress billowed and enfolded her. All you could see was the whirling dress and I lost sight of Pippa as it grew and enfolded her in the fabric. Rapidly the colour changed to daffodil yellow and the dress retreated in size. It was no longer Pippa. It was the girl from the mural at Carlotta¡¯s; all young and beautiful. I could hear Elvis and Sinatra singing together on the last refrain of ¡®Love Me Tender¡¯ and Pippa shone all bright and new while they sang ¡°For my darling, I love you and I always will.¡± I awoke with a start. Everything was there in the dream. I understood it all. I knew at once exactly what I wanted for both endings.

    On my way back to Toronto I worked out the details of the fictional ending. All the components had come together. It would be set in the future and I¡¯d discover that Pippa had passed. That would be the prelude to our story but the ending would include the avocado house, the ring and her vows, and her last words to me.

    I thought back on how I had mused that Rod¡¯s children had grown up away from me. I decided I¡¯d bring Carlotta Pink Bailey into the story and have her be the reason Pippa had gone to Quebec City. It would be a harsh ending with Pippa¡¯s death but finding Carlotta would also bring some hope to the conclusion.

    Even minor things played out in my mind and became part of the finish. The bundle of letters would be there. It would be mail that had built up while I was doing my fictitious teaching in another country. I¡¯d open it to discover that Pippa had gone. I¡¯d throw in the fabricated death of my father for the reason I came home. That was a nod to me telling Rhonda she should kill off the option of naming her new baby George. It was all artistic license and it wasn¡¯t like I was going to let my parents read it. I¡¯d even work in the dream of the fiery dress. This fictional story was what I needed to rewrite my ending but it wasn¡¯t what I wanted for my new beginning. I¡¯d worked that out, too. For that, I would need Bags.

    I spent two days in Toronto writing my new ending. I¡¯d added in Rod and Rhonda and had the climax take place at the avocado house. After reading it over, I thought it wasn¡¯t strong enough so I wrote Ben and Sandra back into our story. I hadn¡¯t seen them in a long time but Pippa had given me some details of their life. They were married now with twin boys and Ben had a successful landscaping firm back home. I¡¯d have him come to me and make me run one last course that ended at the avocado house and the disclosure of my daughter Carlotta. I rewrote and tweaked the conclusion and it was better for it.

    ¡°This is terrific stuff, Jeff.¡± Bags put the papers into his lap. ¡°I¡¯ve always known the other parts of your story but this ending is the best thing you could have come up with for yourself. I¡¯m glad you took my advice.¡±

    I¡¯d invited Bags over after I had completed the ending. I wanted him to be the first one to read it. I wasn¡¯t going to do a recitation for him. I know he once told me that you have to tell your story because you can¡¯t give away something you¡¯ve written down. The truth was, I didn¡¯t want to give it away. I wanted to embrace it.

    ¡°I took your advice in more ways than one Dr. Bags. I¡¯ve created two endings. That one in your lap was my therapy. Now you have to help me with the other ending.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it, Jeff. What¡¯s all this about another ending?¡±

    ¡°Call me Pink. That¡¯s who I am. You¡¯re Bags and I¡¯m Pink. For this next bit, I¡¯m pulling in an old I.O.U.¡±

    I stopped for a minute and looked over at Pippa in the bed. Her eyes were closed and she was silent. Here was this beautiful woman I loved in our new ending lying next to our daughter Carlotta. I looked down at Carlotta lying between us. Her eyes were barely open and she wriggled only slightly between us. Was either of them listening to me telling our story?

    ¡°Why did you stop?¡± Pippa asked. Her eyes fluttered open and looked at me. Her hand came up and touched the side of my face.

    ¡°I thought you were asleep,¡± I said.

    ¡°Not sleeping, just resting my eyes. Keep going. You¡¯re coming to my favourite part.¡±

    ¡°Gladly, it¡¯s my favourite, too.¡±

    ¡°What I.O.U?¡± Bags had asked me.

    ¡°Remember back at Trent when you told me about the Elvis song ¡®It¡¯s Still Here¡¯ and I said I¡¯d go through with that pub performance of my story with Pippa but you had to bring your guitar back the next time you went home so we could find you an open mic night and you were going to sing that song?¡±

    ¡°I remember,¡± Bags responded. ¡°I think I said something about dedicating it to you if I did.¡±

    ¡°Well, you still owe me. I¡¯m calling it in.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, pal! That was a long time ago. I¡¯m not performing that song in a pub. Ask me anything else but not that.¡±

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d say that. Rest easy Bags, I¡¯m not going to have you do that exactly. I have something else in mind for my new ending but you¡¯re going to need your guitar.¡±

    I detailed to Bags what I had in mind. It was daring and a little screwy, to use Rod¡¯s descriptor, but it was something I had to try. I knew it was time to make a gesture¡­a grand gesture.

    Two days later, Bags and I were on our way to Peterborough. Bags was uncertain of my plan and he had to let Connie know what was in store. Bags brought me along to pitch my new ending; the one that Bags and I would put into play.

    ¡°Do me one favour, Jeff,¡± Connie said to me after she gave permission for Bags to participate in my scheme, ¡°don¡¯t get my husband arrested.¡±

    ¡°I make no promises. I can tell you one thing though, if he ends up in jail, he¡¯ll have me as a cellmate.¡±

    On the drive to Peterborough, Bags and I went over the details of the plan. It had been two weeks since Pippa had left me but she said she hadn¡¯t given Bastien her answer to his proposal. She also said she had found a buyer for her store and would be moving to Montreal soon. I hoped soon hadn¡¯t arrived.

    That last conversation about her marrying Bastien ran through my mind. I had tried to discourage her from marrying him and she had asked if not Bastien, then who. I had questioned why it couldn¡¯t be me and she had said it had always been me. She also said she¡¯d waited a long time for me to say I¡¯d give it all up for her. She reminded me she had tried once to force me into her marrying her and it looked like she could do it again. No one was forcing me now. This was what I wanted. Her letters said it was what she had hoped for as well but she was waiting for a sign from me that never came. I hoped my grand gesture would be proof enough.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you drive a little faster, Bags?¡± I implored.

    ¡°Not if you want to get there without the police on our tails. Remember, you promised Connie not to get me arrested.¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t. I told her I couldn¡¯t make that promise but if you go down my friend, I¡¯m going with you.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t come to that,¡± Bags replied. I felt the car excel a little. I wasn¡¯t sure if Bags was anxious to get me there or anxious to get it over with. I, too, was sharing in both of those anxieties.

    When we arrived in Peterborough we made our way down the main street to find a parking space near Pippa¡¯s store. At first pass, there didn¡¯t seem to be one anywhere close. We had to loop around a couple of times and luckily one opened up halfway down the block. How appropriate was it that it was right in front of The Old Grind? Pippa and I had reconnected there and retold each other our stories. Now, I was looking to add a new ending to our tale.

    I was also glad of the traffic. That was key to my plan.

    Bags unloaded his guitar and we walked cautiously up to the location and stopped just before we reached the big front window. The painted mural of the little girl at play in a beautiful outfit was still there. I still couldn¡¯t tell if this was a representation of a younger version of Pippa or an image of the fictitious Carlotta.

    I stole a quick look in the store. The plan only worked if Pippa was there. We were in luck. She was in there with another woman and seemed to be showing off the entirety of the interior. Was this her mysterious buyer? I began to panic. Was I too late?

    ¡°It¡¯s now or never Bags!¡± My heart was in my throat. Those words thrust me back to the courthouse stairs and Rod calling out those same words to encourage Pippa and I inside for our wedding. I also remembered Pippa calling back her response of ¡®never.¡¯ Not this time, I thought to myself. It can¡¯t be ¡®never¡¯. It had to be ¡®now¡¯.

    Bags waited momentarily for a lull in the traffic and then stepped out between two parked cars into the street and flagged down the oncoming traffic. He cradled his guitar and started playing and singing ¡®It¡¯s Still Here¡¯.

    I had promised him it wouldn¡¯t be a pub performance but it had taken a lot of convincing to get him to agree to be a street performer. With traffic stopped and cars honking and people suddenly crowding around, I watched for any sign of the police and more importantly for Pippa to make an appearance.

    The sound of the horns and the people and the music did the trick. Pippa came out to view the source of the disturbance. Her hand went to her mouth in shock as she recognized Bags. That was my cue and I signalled to Bags and he immediately changed tunes.

    The strains of ¡®Love Me Tender¡± began to emanate from Bags¡¯ guitar and I stepped forward and started to sing the lyrics. Pippa turned toward me and now both of her hands were cupped at her mouth. My voice cracked but I kept on singing.

    Just before the last lines of the song, Pippa held up her hand, gesturing me to stop.

    ¡°Jeff, stop. Whatever this is¡­whatever you think you¡¯re doing¡­it¡¯s not going to¡­¡±

    ¡°No Pippa,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Let me finish.¡± I signalled Bags in off the street. We didn¡¯t need to disrupt traffic for this next part. ¡°First, I¡¯m Pink. I¡¯ve always been Pink. I always will be Pink. Pink is like the lyrics of this song. Pink is like being tender inside. Love me tender. Love me that way. I¡¯m Pink. I¡¯m in the pink. I¡¯m just right. I¡¯m just right for you. You¡¯re right for me.¡±

    ¡°Listen Pink, then¡­¡± she tried to interject.

    ¡°No, you listen, Pippa Bailey. I love you. I¡¯ve loved you since the first time I saw you and I told you that¡¯s never going to change.¡± I dropped to one knee and held out the ring that Rhonda had given back to me and held up my other hand to show her the ring on the finger of my other hand; the ring Pippa had left in the envelope with her vows. ¡°Now Bags!¡± I shouted.

    Bags stepped up and played the closing music of ¡®Love Me Tender¡¯ and I sang the lines with Bags chiming in on the vocals. ¡°For my darling, I love you, and I always will¡±. We were no Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra but I think I made my point. The people in the street watching this spectacle began to cheer and applaud.

    Pippa looked us both over and then placed her hands on my shoulders as I kneeled in front of her. Was she going to embrace me or try to shake some sense into me?

    ¡°What I was trying to tell you Pink, was whatever this is¡­whatever you think you¡¯re doing¡­it¡¯s not going to be forgotten. It¡¯s about damn time!¡± She moved her hands to the sides of my face and kneeled down and kissed me. The kiss at the All City and the one the following day at my locker had nothing on that new kiss.

    After the kiss, I held out the ring again. I believed at that point it was just a formality but it was the closing gesture.

    ¡°Pippa Bailey, will you marry me?¡±

    She began to cry but the words came clearly. ¡°Pink, my answer has always been yes. I was just waiting for a moment like this. Yes, a thousand times yes.¡± She kissed me again and the crowd went wild. Bags began to play the wedding march and everyone laughed and then cheered and applauded some more.

    I looked over again at Pippa lying next to me. There was a contented smile on her face but she was clearly asleep. I gently picked up Carlotta and held her in my arms while I walked around the room.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if your mother heard that last part but it¡¯s okay because she was there and now you¡¯re here and that¡¯s all that matters.¡± I bent my head and kissed Carlotta on the forehead.

    ¡°You¡¯re mother and I got married about a month later. It took a lot of planning and a lot of help from family and friends but we pulled it together.¡±

    We wanted to get married in Peterborough and we didn¡¯t want to wait. We knew that. We went back to our hometown to tell our families. Bags went back and told Connie. She was happy for us and even happier her husband hadn¡¯t been arrested.

    My parents were ecstatic. I think they had given up on me ever settling down. My mother acted as if she had never met Pippa before. I had my suspicions that she knew Pippa had been the girl my mother had insisted I invite over to our house. I also think she had some idea Pippa had been there more than once.

    My father was a man of few words. He congratulated me and kidded me about becoming a family man with his grandchildren to come in the future. I didn¡¯t say anything about discouraging Rod and Rhonda from naming their next child after him and I certainly wasn¡¯t going to suggest to Pippa that we hold the ¡®George¡¯ option open when we had children.

    Rod and Rhonda were probably the happiest for us.

    ¡°I guess you found your answers Jeff,¡± Rhonda told me when Pippa and I visited her and Rod to break the news.

    ¡°With your help,¡± I said. I told Pippa I¡¯d explain that comment later.

    ¡°Treat my little brother nice,¡± Rod said to Pippa. I think he was being serious. It was odd that my older brother was expressing thoughts of looking out for me. ¡°He¡¯s not that good of a catch but he¡¯ll do in a pinch.¡± There was the Rod I¡¯d been expecting.

    The next interaction was with Pippa¡¯s mother and it was more confusing than anything else. Pippa had told me that she had mentioned me as someone she was involved with and would see occasionally. I don¡¯t think she had told her mother that occasionally was only once a year. Now it was going to be every day and her mother was extremely happy for the both of us. She hugged me and kissed me and asked me to take good care of her daughter. If she had recognized me as Steve Wilson from that one time, she didn¡¯t let on.

    Trying to find a venue for our wedding in Peterborough on short notice proved to be difficult. We were into the summer months and every church and hall was booked. I honestly believed that our friends and family weren¡¯t as shocked by the announcement we were going to be married but by our insistence that the wedding take place within a month¡¯s time.

    It was looking like we¡¯d have to postpone our wedding to later in the summer or possibly in the fall but then Bags came to the rescue. He worked his magic and secured us a space on the main campus at Trent. There was a common greenspace between two buildings and Bags had secured permission for us to be married there. Chair and table rentals were quickly secured and Rhonda and Sandra pulled together the flowers and booked a caterer. We had a party tent supplier on standby in case the weather didn¡¯t cooperate. We were lucky. The sun shone down on us and blessed us with a beautiful day.

    Of course, Rhonda and Sandra had to be part of our wedding party and I had to have Bags and Rod. I had worried over which one to select as best man so in the end I chose to have two best mans or men or whatever. Rod stood next to me during the ceremony like I had for him to Rhonda, and Bags sat next to me at the head table during the reception. Pippa insisted on rounding out her bridesmaids with her friend Beth. That left me scrambling for a third but with Sandra already standing up for Pippa, it only made sense to include Ben.

    When we had gone home to connect with family and friends, we had made a point to visit with Sandra and Ben to tell them the good news. I hadn¡¯t seen either in a long time but they didn¡¯t seem overly surprised to find out we had finally ended up together.

    ¡°You two were responsible for us coming together,¡± Sandra told us. ¡°It only seems fitting that you two finally get united yourselves. Where are you going on your honeymoon, the drive-in?¡± We all laughed about that.

    Ben pulled me aside later and shook my hand.

    ¡°I guess you finally won that race,¡± he observed.

    ¡°It was almost a photo finish,¡± I replied.

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Ben asked.

    ¡°Bastien was leading around the last corner. I only just nosed him out in the end.¡±

    Ben looked at me quizzically and I told him I¡¯d fill him in some other time.

    It was true about Bastien. I¡¯d almost lost again to him. Pippa had been seriously considering marrying Bastien. He¡¯d always been her placeholder. She knew it had always been but she¡¯d convinced herself it was never going to me. When Bastien proposed she asked for some time before answering. Another thing she tried to convince herself of was that she¡¯d be happy to be married to him. My grand gesture convinced her otherwise.

    I didn¡¯t feel sorry for the guy. I didn¡¯t even try. He¡¯d had his chance. When Pippa called Bastien and told him she was going to marry me, he seemed to be okay with it. He even wished her well. We invited him to our wedding as a token of friendship and no hard feelings. He didn¡¯t come. I felt no real loss and it prevented me from gloating and telling him I was the winner and he was the loser. I didn¡¯t care about being mature.

    I went back to Toronto to take care of some final details. I gave my notice to Merrivale. When Pippa asked me what I was going to work at in Peterborough I told her a teacher could teach anywhere; even in South Korea if he had a mind to. That was another thing I promised to explain to her someday. I realized between Ben and Pippa, I had lots of explaining to do in my future.

    I gave notice on my apartment as well. I started to get rid of things. I gave away some things, donated others, and sold what I could. Everything I needed was in Peterborough. I kept some personal items, books, my coffee table, the coffeemaker, and the queen-sized bed. Pippa¡¯s apartment was a little smaller but we¡¯d make do.

    When Pippa finally introduced me to Beth, I recognized her as the woman who had been in the store the day I serenaded and proposed. Pippa was trying to finalize Beth buying into the business. Pippa decided to keep the store but retained controlling interest. It meant she didn¡¯t have to work as hard or as often and would have more time for me. I never got around to thanking Beth for that.

    Although I helped with some of the details of our wedding, I wasn¡¯t allowed any input into Pippa¡¯s wedding dress or the colour scheme for the bridesmaids. Pippa told me that the men had to wear navy blue suits and she picked out the ties. These were yellow with small white flowers on them. The only other thing she insisted upon were crisp white shirts. I was excited to see what she had chosen for herself and her entourage.

    The day of our wedding was bright and warm. I was glad we were outside. The folding chairs were filled with friends and family members. Even some of my colleagues from Merrivale had shown up. My old mentor, Bruce, was front and center seated next to my parents. Pippa could control anything else but I insisted on Bruce being given a prominent spot. He had always been like a wiser older brother to me and part of my success.

    Bags had worked out another detail that had almost slipped my mind. Having an outdoor venue didn¡¯t allow for a piano or organ so Bags brought his guitar. Standing on the other side of Rod, he began to play when the minister signalled we were ready to begin. Bags asserted he would not play the wedding march and that he¡¯d given his one and only performance of that in front of Carlotta¡¯s after Pippa accepted my proposal. Instead, we had worked out another exhibition and Bags started in on ¡°Love Me Tender.¡±

    Everyone rose to their feet when the music began and we all began to sing together on the lyrics as the bridesmaids and Pippa entered from a building off to the left. My heart stopped and so did my singing. She had outdone herself. She had flipped the whole tradition of a wedding gown and bridesmaids¡¯ dresses on its head. The brides were all dressed in crisp white dresses that matched our shirts and each held a bouquet of yellow daffodils. As if that wasn¡¯t significant enough, Pippa was wearing the daffodil yellow dress. It had been altered to make it a little fancier but it was the same dress she¡¯d closeted since our last wedding attempt. She wore her hair down without a veil but atop her head was a crown of white daffodils with pink centers. I think a number of the guests stopped singing as well as they became awed by the spectacle.

    Pippa¡¯s mother walked her down the aisle and Pippa held a bouquet that matched the flowers in her hair. Her mother guided Pippa up to me and put her hand in mine. I grabbed her other hand and looked into her eyes. Everyone else stopped singing but Bags kept on playing as Pippa and I serenaded each other on the last line, ¡®For My Darling, I Love You, And I Always Will¡¯. That had been my idea and Pippa happily agreed. No cheering or applauding followed but there was many an audible sob heard from the gathered throng

    The rest of the ceremony paled to the introduction but was beautiful nonetheless. The exchanging of our vows brought more tears to onlookers. Finally, after many years and a few tribulations, we read those words out loud to each other. I had known hers in advance after reading them from the envelope she had left with Rhonda. Mine were remembered by Pippa from my version of our story I had told her at The Old Grind. I didn¡¯t need to rehearse mine. I¡¯d never forgotten them.

    We took pictures in the greenspace while the chairs were removed and the caterers set up for the dinner. There were speeches all around and laughs and tears and toasts to the happy couple. Bags told the story of us abandoning a bus late at night to look for the running girl. He toast his best friend and the running girl who had stopped long enough for me to catch up to her.

    The sun went down and the stars came out and there was music and dancing. The DJ played many an Elvis tune and Pippa and I danced to everyone. She even sang along into my ear on ¡®You Were Always On Mind¡¯. I¡¯d never been happier. This was better than when it happened at Bags¡¯ wedding. This time I was going home with the bride and she was going to stay.

    I danced the customary dance with Pippa¡¯s mother. She smiled and hugged me and kissed me and thanked me for a beautiful day and for making her beautiful daughter extremely happy.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve properly welcomed you to the family,¡± she said as our dance ended. She leaned in and whispered, ¡°welcome to the family, Steve.¡± She walked away giggling and I just stared after her and then burst out laughing myself.

    Pippa and I began our married life after a brief honeymoon. I won¡¯t tell you about that Carlotta but you¡¯re in this next bit. It¡¯s another one of my favourite parts.

    I couldn¡¯t find a teaching position that fall so I did supply work and built up a presence in Peterborough. When I wasn¡¯t working or spending time with Pippa, I started writing our story. I already had the fictional ending and I decided to keep it in. The real ending was one I kept for Pippa and myself. Gradually, it all came together and reminiscences of acquiring the name Pink, almost getting shot on our film location, all of the racing and competitions and our budding on-again-off-again relationship went into the text. I even kept in the fictitious Carlotta Pink Bailey and Pippa giving birth to her in Quebec City. I polished and honed and spent the better part of a year finishing it. I gave it the title of ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing¡¯. Bags had suggested that as the title for my pub performance and somehow it still seemed appropriate.

    Of course, no one wanted to publish it. I received standard replies to the effect of ¡®not what we¡¯re looking for¡± or ¡°too episodic for our taste, or ¡°good effort, best of luck in your future publishing endeavours.¡± I would have despaired if wasn¡¯t for one smaller publisher who appeared to have read my entire manuscript and responded with kind words about the quality of the work and complimenting me on a unique and moving ending. Their only criticism was that it was a memoir and they didn¡¯t publish memoirs. They also looked forward to receiving future submissions of my writing. That was something. Maybe this memoir, as they described it, was too personal for other people but they liked my style and there was that invitation to submit to them again in the future. Again, that was something. I wasn¡¯t discouraged. I knew there would be more.

    In my second year in Peterborough, I was offered a contract in an elementary school. My reputation had grown from work I had done there the previous year on a fill-in basis. They were also impressed with my Merrivale experience. I was a full-time teacher again and I was a writer with one unpublished book but with ideas for more. I was also a husband¡­a happy husband.

    That fall, I became something else. I became an expectant father. I was over the moon. Only a little over a year earlier I had been a lost soul who thought he had lost the love of his life forever. I was really going to be that family man my father had referred to when I told him I was marrying Pippa. Recalling my father¡¯s words I began to discuss names for our baby. Carlotta Pink was obvious. I didn¡¯t think we could get away from it. If it was a girl it was always going to be Carlotta Pink. But what if it was a boy?

    ¡°How about Roger?¡± I asked of Pippa one evening. We¡¯d been mulling over many names but the thought struck me and I had to suggest it.

    ¡°Pink, that¡¯s beautiful. Roger. It¡¯s perfect.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t settle for Roger George?¡± I asked. Rhonda had given birth the previous year to another girl and named her Jill after my mother. Maybe reviving the George option would be appropriate given I had killed him off at the beginning of ¡®Pippa¡¯s Passing.¡¯

    ¡°Roger George Carter,¡± she mused. ¡°I like it. I¡¯ll take it into consideration.¡±

    Of course, it was never going to be Roger George. Not at first. It was always going to be Carlotta Pink. ¡°It was always going to be you.¡±

    I looked down at our baby in my arms. Everyone knew we¡¯d been expecting but we hadn¡¯t notified anyone when Pippa went into labour. We¡¯d have to tell friends and family sometime but again I realized at that moment there didn¡¯t exist a need. My immediate future was this baby and my wife who lay sleeping in the bed.

    ¡°Carlotta Pink Carter, I¡¯ve loved you and your mother since the first time I saw you both. Nothing¡¯s ever going to change that.¡± I snuggled her and kissed her again. I walked her over to the bed and lay Carlotta next to Pippa. I put my hand on Pippa¡¯s cheek and kissed her. I leaned in and whispered to her, ¡°how do you like this ending?¡±

 Announcement: Pippas Passing Podcast

    This is the opportunity to hear Pippa¡¯s Passing as I have envisioned it.  I have created each chapter as individual podcasts.  I am the narrator of each podcast which are audio adaptations of each chapter in my unpublished novel, "Pippa''s Passing." I also provide the voice of Jeff Carter. All of the other voices are computer generated because the cost of hiring live actors was prohibitive. Working with computer voices wasn''t always easy and trying to get them to sing, laugh, or sometimes even pronounce a word in a certain way was challenging but I think the result is acceptable. I have added music cues and sound effects to bring the story to life. I imply no rights to any of the music. The result is a phenomenal story brought to life and I hope it will generate some interest in helping me to find a publisher for "Pippa''s Passing."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Click the link below to check it out!

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