The Lesson (7 page)

“The loneliest place in the world can be a busy downtown street in a crowded foreign city. You’re surrounded by thousands but you don’t speak the language, you don’t know a soul, and you’re far from home and everything that’s familiar. It’s amazing how alone you can feel when there’s a wall of people on every side.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” said Gina as she kicked at the gritty sand with her toes.

“It was like that in Tokyo. Olongapo too. At times it can be overwhelming. It takes a little excitement out of travel.”

“Olongapo?”

“That’s in the Philippines. It’s a city near Subic Bay, on Luzon. The Navy has a big base there.”

“You visited Tokyo?” said Gina.

“The Shasta pulled into Yokosuka but I wanted to see Tokyo, about one hundred and twenty miles away, so I took a train, the blue line, I think. An amazing city. All people and lights.”

“Seems to me that an American in uniform wouldn’t have any trouble attracting female companions, especially in the Philippines. I bet a lot of guys on your ship were anything but lonely,” said Gina.

“You’re half right. Guys don’t even need to be in uniform over there. A western face in civilian clothes draws all the female attention you want.”

“That must have been difficult to turn down.”

“No, not at all. I’ve never been tempted by women who are only after my money. Not only that, it’s risky. I know some guys on the ship who brought back more to their wives than a few Asian trinkets. Never seemed right to me, considering their wives were so faithful, waiting, doing all the work involved being both mommy and daddy.”

“Kevin, my feet are cold,” Gina said, stopping. “Can we go back now?” She had begun to shiver.

“My feet are cold too. Let’s go. I’ll turn the heat on as soon as we get in the car.”

The interior of the beetle may have been cramped and noisy but the heater was wonderful. In a matter of minutes they were toasty and grateful for it, and in less than an hour they were standing outside her apartment door, saying good night. She’d had fun. It only seemed right to say so.

“I had a great time tonight, Kevin. I loved walking on the beach. Thanks for everything.”

As Gina looked up into his eyes, a sense of discomfort rolled over her as suddenly as night fog spreads across a rural highway. She made a pretense of noisily searching for her key, a sure signal that the evening was over. She found it and put it in the knob. As her hand touched the cold metal, she could feel Kevin’s eyes on her, which made her want to return to the privacy of her safe little apartment more acutely. She stepped hurriedly into the dark living room, but rather than rudely shut the door without a smile, she looked back at him one more time, to say good night politely with her eyes. Kevin returned her gaze and hesitated. She saw a flicker of something there, as if he were trying to make a decision. He acted as though he would say something, his lips parting briefly, but then they closed again, and he said nothing, just held her eyes with his, silently. She had seen that look before, and fearing he would try to kiss her, she shut the door hastily and locked it.

A minute later Gina heard his noisy VW start up and then go grinding down the street. As it faded
into the distance she was relieved. She’d had a stimulating evening of conversation and jokes, but she didn’t feel that way about him and never would. But most of all she was too weary of Michael problems and all the heartache they gave her to dredge up the energy to deal with Kevin problems. Better to leave things as they were, friendly and uncomplicated. Kisses were complicated.

#

For breakfast Gina sat down to dry cereal because she was out of milk. She washed it down with a cup of instant coffee. She prayed, read her Bible, showered, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and then drove to the Launderette, glad for once that so many of her tips were in coin, because it meant she wouldn’t have to search for change to wash and dry her clothes. After her laundry was folded, she labored and grunted to get the two baskets, one big and one small, into the backseat of her two-door Austin without upsetting her clean clothes. Finally she gave up and stacked them on the front passenger seat, where the larger one banged her elbow every time she shifted gears and made it impossible to see out the passenger window.

It was a beautiful October day, sunny but soft. Late-blooming oleander festooned gardens of Spanish-style homes along Homestead Road near the historic district, their red tile roofs complemented by deep green leaves and brilliant pink blossoms of the giant shrub. She drove by feathery red bottlebrush, tall and elegant along backyard fences; small front-yard rose gardens,
their blooms droopy but still lovely; pyracantha bushes alive with curious birds, diving among the long, stiff branches, looking for the perfect spot to build a nest; sturdy orange trees, heavy with unpicked fruit; and occasionally a yard full of bizarrely shaped cacti, sticking up like spooks in a graveyard ground cover of glistening white rock. The continuous sunshine from May to October made everything grow well. One didn’t need a green thumb to grow a prosperous garden in Santa Clara County. No wonder so many fruit and vegetable farmers settled here in centuries past. There was enough blue sky and sunshine for everyone.

But Gina noticed none of this. Once home she jerked the baskets from the front seat, and even before she had crossed the threshold of her apartment she shot a hopeful glance at the answering machine in the corner of the living room. The red light was unblinking, exactly as she had left it two hours earlier. She sighed gustily.
Well that just makes it easier to do my homework.

She would
try
to be positive.

She hunched over her R.C. Allen that afternoon, plunking noisily at the stiff green keys. In the back of her mind was the disquieting thought that she had nowhere to spend the evening and no one to spend it with. She pushed it to the back again the minute it tried to creep forward. She was tired of dealing with the problem, and she needed to focus on her English paper. Nevertheless her mind kept wandering to Saturdays past. They used to be
so easy. She spent all of them with Michael unless his law studies got in the way. But even if he had too much studying to do on Saturday night, there were always a few precious hours on Sunday afternoon to stroll through the San Jose Rose Garden, take in a movie, or hang out with Rolando, Michael’s roommate, a business student from Florence.

In the past Gina had had more girlfriends too. She’d made many friends her freshman year, mostly fellow residents of Swig Hall. But that was nearly two years ago. Her old friends had scattered or made new friends, and she had changed. She had new friends at church, but most of them lived farther out, near the church building on Miramonte Avenue in Mountain View, too far for casual get-togethers. After two years of spending most of her free time with Michael and his friends, her own circle of nearby friends had shrunk, and now she had to start all over again.

She got up from her typewriter and walked over to the phone in the living room
. I’ll call Bonnie.
Maybe Bonnie could get a sitter so that she and Gina could hang out. She liked spending time with Bonnie, though it often meant they were a noisy foursome because of the kids. But no, tonight she wasn’t in the mood to be around little children. She wanted to dress up and go out and have fun, not help Bonnie wipe noses or soothe a crying baby in a public place. The problem was how to tell Bonnie that she wanted her to hire a sitter for a change. Gina dialed the phone and waited. When she heard Bonnie’s recorded voice on the answering machine, she was relieved. She didn’t bother to leave a message.

She could drive to her parents’ house at the other end of Santa Clara. They were always home on Saturday night. But things were strained right now because of Michael. Even without their recent clashes, Saturday night at Mom and Dad’s house was boring. Without fail her parents would spend the entire evening watching TV or reading until they fell asleep. No, if she wanted dull there was plenty of it at her own place.

Again Rolando’s face surfaced in her mind. Medium-tall with a smooth olive complexion and thick black hair that he combed frequently, Michael’s former roommate was one of the best looking young men she had ever met. He was a ladies’ man, for sure, always flirting with all the girls. He knew he was gorgeous, but it was easy to overlook his vanity because he was also fun, good natured, exotic, and spoke with a sexy Italian accent that drove girls crazy. He was finishing his last year of business school, so he still lived in the apartment on Scott Boulevard they had shared when Michael was a student. She hadn’t talked to him in six months, though she had seen him on campus from afar. Until now she had cut off all contact with Michael’s old group. Considering the volatile way they had parted, any dealings with his friends would have been awkward at best. Michael had been hurt and angry. She could only imagine the dreadful things he had told Rolando about their break-up. No doubt all of Michael’s friends blamed her for her choices.

But she also hadn’t contacted his friends because she didn’t want anyone to misconstrue her intentions, to think she was surreptitiously trying to find out about Michael’s doings or who he was seeing, if he was seeing anyone at all. She didn’t want his friends to report back to him that she was inquiring about him or that she had been coming around.

It was six o’clock and the phone hadn’t rung once all day. Her homework was finished and the evening stretched out before her, long and lonely
. What would be the harm in calling Rolando to see if he wants to go for a drive? He might be sitting at home alone too. It wouldn’t be a date, really, because we’re old friends. I’m calling him, not the other way around. There is nothing innately wrong with visiting with your ex-fiancé’s former roommate. I’ll call him and explain that I just want to hang out.

As she thought these things her conscience woke up and started to stretch. Rolando was fun but he had a reputation. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be best to completely avoid her old life and old friends, especially those linked to Michael, and especially Rolando. He was a foreigner who might interpret her intentions wrongly, though she felt confident she could quickly set him straight. Until tonight she had done a thorough job of (almost) walking the straight and narrow, avoiding the people, places, and circumstances that reminded
her of Michael. She had done everything right and given up, in her estimation, much that she enjoyed, most of all Michael. She’d had a lot of good times since Michael left, but she’d had a lot of lonely times, too, like tonight. It seemed extreme to needlessly sit at home and stare at four silent walls when an old friend was so nearby who might enjoy an innocent evening out. Why shouldn’t she call him? Nothing would come of it. She wasn’t married. Indeed, she was no longer engaged. She didn’t even have a boyfriend. She should be able to do as she pleased when it came to spending a simple evening socializing with a strictly platonic male friend.

She started to dial his number but abruptly hung up the receiver without finishing. She didn’t really want to spend the evening with Rolando. She just didn’t want to spend it alone. She decided to pray.

“Lord, your word says that you always provide an escape from temptation. Please show me the way out of this. I’m lonely, Lord, so lonely. If you don’t help me I’m going to go out with Rolando, and I know there are risks.”

She waited for what seemed like a long time, but on the clock it was about a minute. Only silence. No ringing phone. No one knocking at the front door asking to spend the evening with her. Annoyed, she picked up the phone and dialed again. After a few rings she heard someone pick up on the other end.

“Gina! How are you? My sexy, sexy Gina.”

“I’m not your sexy Gina,” she said, taken aback at the familiarity of his tone. “I’m bored. I was wondering if you might like to do something tonight. Go for a drive, watch TV?” It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “I don’t have any money for anything else,” but she caught herself just in time. She didn’t want to sound like
a mooch.

“Why don’t you come over here? I can make dinner, and we can hang out. Maybe later go for a drive, eh?”

Great. I’ll get out of this apartment for the evening and I won’t have to spend any money.
She agreed to meet him in an hour.

Gina took another shower and then started a lengthy internal discussion on what to wear. She decided on her favorite pair of jeans because they accentuated her svelte figure. With it she chose a flattering shell pink sweater, ultrasoft to the touch, partially because it was appropriate for a fall evening, but mostly because it made her look busty. She was grateful she’d had the presence of mind not to throw away every article of spicy clothing during the craziness of her sophomore year, because she certainly didn’t have the money to replace them now.

She threw her head forward, bent down from the waist, and brushed her heavy hair downward again and again, so that when she stood up straight it would look fuller. She took extra time with her eyes, applying a sultry eye shadow with a hint of sparkle, sexy and glamorous for evening wear. She rummaged around in the dark piles of the closet floor until she found her rhinestone heels, “floozy shoes” her mother called them. Gina almost never wore them anymore, because since Michael left she’d had virtually no dates, and the few she’d experienced had been forgettable, casual affairs. With four-inch heels, her rhinestone lovelies were all skinny straps and sparkles. Gina loved them. She had purchased them long ago at the St. Justin’s Thrift Shop, a secondhand store run by her parents’ parish. They made her feet look pretty and feminine, but she paired them with jeans to cut the flooze factor. Looking down at her twinkling toes, she turned one ankle to admire them. Floozy or not, they couldn’t be sinful. They’d been approved by the Pope.