A Pebble in Still Water

Year 15: The morning sun invades the motel room and enhances the tawdry thin carpet and grey bedsheets. The young man, barely more than a boy, puts his hand over his eyes. The glare is bad; the room smells worse. The smell of a thousand cheap cigarettes and of unwashed, sweaty bodies doing things best left unmentioned cling to the fabric surfaces. Turning away from the piercing rays of the sun, he is confronted with a sleeping bed partner. She is young, more young than beautiful, but attractive nonetheless. He himself still has the gangly, disproportionate physique of a teenager that hasn't quite grown into his new height. He runs his hand along her bare breast and gives it a soft squeeze. Still half out of it, she takes a fisted swing at him. Startled, he backs away from it as it swooshes by. As she awakens fully, she apologizes, explaining that she thought he was her pervert of a brother. A look of confusion crosses his face. She dismisses what she just said and asks why he stayed. He admits to dozing off after sex. She laughs. She tells him his polite, British accent is damn sexy. He suggests that that is probably a good indicator that he use his New Jersey accent so he can actually get through the next five years of college. She laughs again, grabbing a cigarette out of a pack and lighting it.

In the shoebox of a bathroom, he finds standing while urinating not a good idea. She stands and watches and smirks at his errant aim. He blushes uncomfortably. She asks what he means about college since he's obviously still in high school, does he go to Prep? No, he answers. He's accelerated and has been accepted into Yale as an accounting major with a business minor. He's smart? He nods. He offhandedly remarks about it only being book smarts and grandfathering that got him in. He offers to take her to breakfast. She turns him down because she has to go to work. He nods and starts to get dressed. As she's about to leave, he asks her name.

~~~~~

Two years have passed and he had no reason to come back to this greasy spoon. Having his own car is liberating and would take him to better venues, but for some reason, he just decides to walk the few blocks. He flips through the book list for the current year. He looks up as the waitress stops with a coffee pot in hand. His face registers surprise, then delight. She's filled out in all the right places. He, as well, looks broad-shouldered and more adult. His face has filled out. And he's tall. He's past the six-foot mark. Her look of exasperation turns to an infatuated stare. They both try to talk, but their words fall all over and entangle each other. After several false starts, she refers to him as Prince Charming. He calls her by name. The next morning, he awakes in the motel room alone.

~~~~~

Another three years, and the bright, sunny weather of late May greeted the young man as he stepped out to the sidewalk. The look of disdain on his face was hardly what one would expect of a graduate. He barely looked up when he heard a car door shut. His affect changed radically when he saw who it was. “Dad?”

He gave his father an exuberant hug. “You made it! I honestly thought you were going to stay in Europe.”

“Son, I wouldn't miss your graduation day if the Queen requested my presence. So, where's your brother?”

He ran his hand through his hair nervously. “He's still upstairs, Dad. He's ... they're not giving him the degree. Therefore, he's not going to the ceremonies. Personally, I may not either.”

“Did he finish he requisites?”

“Yes, Dad. It's not the usual reasons. He finished his thesis. He was grilled by the board. He passed every test and extra hurdle they threw at him. They waited until yesterday to tell him they're not awarding him the degree. But they want to give him an honorary Ph.D. In lieu of the Masters he earned for his 'fortitude of character.' Pfft. Suddenly, my cum laude doesn't taste so great. Does that make him the first man in this family not to graduate college in five hundred years?”

“Son, he graduated. He has the Bachelor's, correct?”

“He elected to get them simultaneously. He truly believed he would get them.”

“You should attend and accept your Masters.”

“I'll consider it, Dad. Mine was a foregone conclusion. I didn't spend a third of the time he did studying. I didn't have a handicap perception to overcome, either. Right now, I just want to take a walk.”

As he walked away, he noticed a woman frantically waving to him. He walked over to her. She had a toddler in one arm and a little girl at her side, and she looked very familiar...

~~~~~

“Nicole, why are you answering the phone?”

“I was standing next to it. Do we know a call check?”

“Call check?”

“I think that's what she said...”

Michael quickly tore the phone from his daughter's hand. “Wallace residence. Yes, I'll accept the charges. Nadine? ... Okay, where are you? ... I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Nicole, go get me three or four towels.”

“Who was that?”

“You'll find out soon enough. Get the towels, love.”

Nicole returned with an armful of fluff.

“Thank you, now find your sister and meet me downstairs. We're going out.”

Michael was waiting downstairs wearing a trenchcoat and carrying a sturdy umbrella. He quickly situated the girls in the back seat of his car and they drove off into a gloomy, rainy night. He said, “Nicole, please tell me you haven't forgotten who Nadine Kowalchuk is.”

“I don't know her.”

Michael sighed, but he wasn't surprised. Five years can be a long time to a child. He spent the twenty minute drive unusually quiet. He didn't talk to himself, hum or recite poetry, nor strike up conversation. He pulled into a train station that showed signs of disrepair. Grabbing the umbrella and a towel, he opened the car door and called into the dark, howling rain. She came running to him from under a leaky section of roofing. He quickly went around and helped her into the passenger seat. Once she dried her hair and face off, she didn't look too dissimilar to the waitress from years ago. She was wearing clothes that had seen better days and a wedding ring. Her distended belly jiggled of its own accord. “You can't blame me this time,” he blurted out.

She could still swing a fist. Michael deftly deflected her punch and looked in the back seat. “Nicole, Krystie, say hello to your mother.”