The Mark of the Immature Man Ch. 02

She didn't say anything, but I could tell that beneath a calm exterior, Kendra was seething. I continued. "Kendra, I feel really, really bad that I have to tell you all of this, especially after last night. You're a great girl, and I really like you, Kendra. But I really hope that you'll understand and that you'll want what's best for me. And I think that this is what's best for me."

"You like me! Is that what you say to all of the girls that you fuck in the ass, Evan? Jesus Christ! You're really full of yourself, aren't you? You think because you've got a big dick and know how to use it, that you can just shit all over everyone else?"

"Kendra, I tried to tell you this last night! I tried to stop you, but you weren't taking 'no' for an answer. The last thing in the world that I want to do is to hurt you, Kendra!"

"Yeah, you tried really hard, almost as hard as you tried not cumming in my ass! We've been going out for four months, Evan. You've had four months to tell me this, so don't give me that bullshit about how I wasn't taking 'no' for an answer last night!"

"But Kendra, until 36 hours ago, there was nothing to tell you. I had no idea that this woman was even alive anymore, much less that she was still in love with me!"

"Oh, that's such a sweet, romantic story! Forgive me if I don't shed a little tear for poor, poor Evan! Hey, I wonder, did you fuck 'this woman' in the ass the last night you spent with her too? Did you leave a little something in her ass to remember you by? And can you explain why in your pathetic vernacular I'm a 'girl,' even though I'm older than you are, and the slut you've been pining over for six years is a 'woman'? How old is this bitch, anyway?" I winced when I heard the word.

"Quite a bit older than I am, but, Kendra, that has nothing to do with anything! If I would have known how she felt about me, or that she was ever going to come back, I would never have started up with you or anybody else. The only real mistake I made was last night. As soon as I knew, I should have told you. I'm sorry, Kendra. I'm so, so sorry!"

"The only 'real mistake' you made was last night? Well, how the hell do you think I feel about that 'mistake'? Jesus Christ, Evan! I buy up half of Surdyk's inventory for you! Then, I invite you to move in with me, and give myself an enema so that you can fuck me in the butt for almost an hour until you shoot about a gallon of cum up my ass! Now, there's a wet spot the size of Lake Calhoun in the middle of my bed, I won't walk straight for a week, and you can tell everyone at Jefferson that you took me in the ass the night before you dumped me! And you have the audacity to think that you made a mistake?"

She certainly had a point. There was nothing more that I could say. Despite the fact that she was sitting two feet away from me, we were both so far away from each other at that moment that nothing I could do would have made one iota of difference. The only thing left was for me to apologize again. It was the most honest thing I could do. "I know you don't believe me, Kendra, but I'm really, really sorry that I hurt you! I wasn't honest with you, but please forgive me!"

"Forgive you!" She stood up, shaking her head, and walked slowly back to the bedroom. I walked the other direction to the door. It was the last time I ever saw her.

I took the elevator down to the lobby, and I walked outside into the cool, clean air of a beautiful June morning. My car was in the parking garage, but I needed to walk, and there was someplace I wanted to go. The closest Catholic church was about six blocks away on 8^th Street – St. Olaf, but I decided that I could use a longer walk, so I headed southwest over to the big place – the Basilica of St. Mary near Loring Park.

I hadn't been to church since I was in high school, but I had made a deal with God all those years ago, and I got the feeling that He was now calling in His marker. I had made a bargain, and I took pride in keeping my promises. Besides, I had some serious sins for which I needed to ask forgiveness. Maybe Kendra would never absolve me of my guilt, but I had the impression that God might be a little more open to mercy than "a woman scorned."

It was interesting to me that six years of heartache, rather than squashing any faith that I might have possessed, had had the opposite effect. Like so many other young people raised with religion but confused and frustrated by too many unanswered questions, I was an avowed agnostic when I left high school.

Two months later, Tina disappeared. When she did, I had promised God that if he brought her back to me, I would begin praying and going to church again. I took it on faith that if God existed, returning Tina to me would be the sign that I needed to confirm His existence. And though that sign hadn't manifested itself for six long years, I had already changed my mind about God.

Eventually I reasoned, however illogically, impractically and narcissistically, that if I had been granted the magnificent blessing of loving Tina for a month, how could God not exist? A big part of working my way through the grief that I felt when Tina left me was reconciling the fact that even if I was stricken with unbearable sorrow and anguish, I had at least been given something wonderful for a short period of time, and, for that, I should be grateful. Besides Tina herself, to whom should I feel gratitude, if not God?

My timing couldn't have been better. 9:30 Mass was just starting when I climbed the dozens of steps to the entrance of the Basilica. I sat in the back, and I said the prayers, listened to the readings and the homily, thanked God for His blessings and asked for forgiveness – from Him, from Kendra, and from Tina. I even went to Communion, though I don't know whether I should have or not, but it made me feel better anyway, and I was glad that I had done so. I pledged that I would go to confession, and I would come back to church the next week and the week after that, and on and on.

I was dreading the next three days because I was sure that I would see Kendra at school, and that would be incredibly awkward and possibly really embarrassing. But the three days of school that week were reserved for finals, and we only had students in the building for a few hours each day. I never saw Kendra at all.

I had signed my contract to return to Jefferson in the fall, and I knew that Kendra had done the same. Now I regretted that decision, and I started to think about whether or not I needed to begin looking for another job. But, in truth, there was just so much up in the air at that moment that I figured I had better make some decisions with Tina before I started to consider my professional future. There was no sense, I determined, in putting the cart before the horse.

On Wednesday morning I gave my last finals, and then I spent the afternoon grading all of my students' tests and finalizing their semester grades. I had already completed all of the finals and grades for my classes that held tests on Monday and Tuesday, so by about 4 p.m. I had completed all of my grading, turned in semester grades, and checked out with my principal. That meant that summer break was starting, and I expected Tina to arrive in the next few hours.

I rushed home and then rummaged through my frig only to find "the cupboard bare." I was hoping that I would be able to cook Tina a romantic dinner, but I quickly surmised that I didn't have time to go to the store, buy everything I needed, and still have time to prepare something nice before she arrived, so I decided that I would take her out for dinner instead. At least I had a couple of nice bottles of wine to share with her.

I was sitting on my living room couch trying to think of the right restaurant for our first meal together in six years. Then, I decided on steak. That was what we'd had for our first meal together in the hotel in Rochester, so I picked up my phone again and made a reservation for 8:00 at a steak place downtown. I didn't know when Tina would be arriving so I wanted to make the reservation late enough that there wouldn't be a problem.

Just as I hung up, my phone rang again. I didn't recognize the number, but I answered anyway. The male voice on the other end of the line sounded annoyingly officious, "Is this Mr. Evan Hughes?"

"Yes, I'm Evan. Can I ask who's calling?"

"Yes, this Karl Leitermann of The Law Offices of Engelberg, Johnson, & Leitermann. I represent the estate of Ms. Christina Buchanan."

"Who?" I asked rudely.

"Miss – Chris – ti – na – Bu – cha – nan," he said in such an exaggerated way, enunciating so ridiculously slowly that he seemed to be suggesting that he thought he was talking to a four year old. I thought for a moment, and then it dawned on me – Tina. This must have been Tina's new name! Buchanan wasn't the surname on the return address on the letter that sat on my end table only a few feet away from me at that very moment. When Tina sent that letter, she had used the named Roche. Had she really changed her last name in the last few days? I also didn't know that her first name was "Christina." It was a pleasant, but surprising and kind of embarrassing thing to learn that I didn't actually know the real first name of the woman that I loved.

"Mr. Hughes, before I continue, can you verify the last four digits of your Social Security number for me please? In addition, can you verify your mother's maiden name? And finally, in what city and state were you born?"

"You're calling me, asshole," I thought to myself when the obnoxious voice on the other end of the line stopped talking, but still I answered all of his questions, if only because I thought he'd mentioned Tina. Otherwise, I think I would have told him that he had better do some explaining before he started asking me questions about my identity.

"Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I am calling to inform you that a sizeable portion of Ms. Buchanan's estate has been signed over to you. This involves a stocks and bonds portfolio that had been set up as a retirement account. In addition to letting you know that the portfolio has been transferred to your name, I wanted to find out if you would like it to remain in the form of a retirement account or whether you would like to alter your access to this investment."

"A formal letter offering a prospectus, as well as a request for your decision on how to proceed with this matter is forthcoming, but I am calling at the request of Ms. Buchanan herself to offer you the opportunity to make such a change effective immediately if you so choose. As the letter will explain, you have the next thirty days to make that change without penalty. After that time, you would have to pay additional fees to effect the change."

I was surprised and confused. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I figured it must have been a mistake, but I couldn't figure out how he had all of this information about me. Was "Christina" really "Tina," and was she really trying to give me some money? Before I answered Karl's fucking question, I thought I would ask one of my own. "Mr. Leitermann, can I ask the value of the portfolio?"

"As of the last financial report, Mr. Hughes, the portfolio was valued at over $260,000, though that valuation was effective at the end of the first quarter of this year. I suspect that it is greater than that amount now, probably in the range of 270 to 275 thousand." I nearly fell off the couch! I couldn't breathe for a moment or two, and when I didn't say anything, Karl started talking somewhat frantically. He must have thought he'd lost the connection. "Mr. Hughes? Mr. Hughes? Are you still there? Mr. Hughes?"

My heart was beating really fast, but I just wanted the phone call over with so that I could try to figure out what had just happened. "Yes, Mr. Leitermann, I'm sorry. I'm still here. I think that at this time I should not make any changes to the investment. I may reconsider after I read your formal letter in full and look into the specifics. I look forward to receiving that communication. Thank you for letting me know about this matter, Mr. Leitermann. Good day, sir." I hung up abruptly.

"What the fuck?" I said out loud. Why in God's name would Tina give me more than a quarter of a million dollars? Had she actually changed her name? I thought about these and at least dozen other questions when suddenly my meditation was interrupted by the buzzer from the lobby. Now, my heart was beating so fast that I was reminded of that day when I hid in the closet in Tina's apartment six years ago when the cops showed up. That was the last time I could remember hearing my own heartbeat pounding through my chest.

I got up from the couch and tentatively pushed the intercom button. "Tina, is that you?"

"Yes, sweetie, it's me. Can I come up?" Her voice washed every thought that I possessed right out of me.

I was crying now, but I fought through my sobs, "Yes, god yes, please do. I'll meet you at my door."

I lived on the fourth floor of a brownstone apartment building that consisted of eight flats, two on each floor. I walked out into the hallway. Tina could have taken the elevator, but I knew she wouldn't, even though it would take her a little longer to mount the steps to my floor. That was just her way. I could hear the sound of her heels clicking on the marble steps of the stairwell, and every click added to my nearly unbearable anticipation. The clicks grew louder and louder until finally, after what seemed like an hour – though it was only a minute or so – Tina emerged from the stairwell. By the time she did, both our faces were awash in tears.

She looked different, but if anything, she was more beautiful than ever. She had changed her hair color to a dark chocolate, and it looked to me that that hue was her natural shade. She was trying her best to smile, but the sadness in her beautiful blue/green eyes was unquestionable.

Neither of us said anything. Instead, we each walked toward the other, until our bodies melted into an indissoluble embrace. I don't know how long we held each other like that. It could have been 10 minutes or 10 hours; time had become absolutely immaterial. Yet throughout that indeterminate interval, uncontrollable, heaving sobs shook both our bodies, and I could feel my tears falling until they saturated the shoulders of her shear blouse. My own light blue shirt was equally drenched as a dark, wet stain spread across my chest.

Then, after a long time, I pulled away, but only long enough to stare beauty in the face for a moment. It had been so long, and though I had thought about that face every day for almost six years – 2116 days to be precise – its perfection still took my breath away. For another unspecified period of time, we just kissed each other's faces everywhere, as if we were trying to suck the marrow of life from each other.

Finally, I stepped back, and still holding my embrace, I spoke. "I love you, Tina."

"I love you, too, Evan. I love you so, so much! I have missed you so very much, sweetheart. I didn't know if I would ever get to see you again! Let me look at you." She stepped back, and holding me around my upper arms, she looked me up and down. She was still crying, but she was smiling now. "You've grown up so much! My god, you are the most handsome young man I've ever seen! Your arms – they're so muscular."

I blushed. I hadn't really thought about my own changes. I guess she was right; I looked a lot different than I had six years ago. My body had filled out, and after I started college, I had begun working out. I wasn't some fucking bodybuilder, but I guess I also wasn't the scrawny kid that she remembered. When I graduated from high school, I was 6'2" and weighed 165 pounds. I had put on at least 25 pounds since then and had built a fair amount of muscle mass.

I wanted to change the subject. I didn't want to talk about me. "You've dyed your hair," I said stupidly.

"No," she responded, smiling, "I stopped dyeing it! This is my natural color. I thought it would be harder for anyone to recognize me if I changed it. I'd been blonde for a long time."

I had no idea how long we'd been standing in that hallway, but it was too long. "I guess I'm a pretty rotten host. I should have invited you inside a long time ago."

"Sweetie, we could be standing in a garbage dump for all I care. Just seeing you is enough to make me happy for the rest of my life."

I held her hand, and we entered my apartment, and she looked around at everything in it, as if it was all somehow a part of me. "You've got a nice place here, Evan. You have good taste."

"Thank you," I said kind of sheepishly. We sat on my couch, facing each other, and we continued to hold hands.

For a moment, I just sat there and stared at her, smiling like a damn fool and marveling at her beauty. I know that it's "in the eye of the beholder," but at that moment, the only thing I could think was that Tina was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was just ageless.

I thought about things for a moment and did the math. Tina was 48 years old now, exactly twice my age. She was only four years younger than my own mother, and though my mother was a pretty woman, it was hard to conceive of the two of them on the same plane. For just one brief moment, I said a short, silent prayer of thanks. "Lord, how could I have ever doubted you? There cannot be beauty of such incredible magnitude in this world without a God having created it! Thank you, Lord! Thank you for returning her to me!"

I was crying again through my smile, but now I decided I had better start acting like an adult, instead of the silly, smitten teenager that I imagined Tina staring at. "Would you like something to drink, Tina? Maybe some wine? You must have had a really long trip, between your flight, your meeting today, and the drive up here to the Cities."

"I would love some wine, sweetie!"

I got up and found a bottle, a corkscrew, and some wine glasses. Then, I opened the bottle and began pouring us each a glass of a decent California Pinot Noir.

"Evan, do you remember that first night we spent together at the Doubletree in Rochester? I gave you some wine that night. I probably shouldn't have; I guess I was 'corrupting a minor.' I don't think you had ever drunk wine before! You were so cute! I could tell that you didn't know what to make of it, but now it seems like you're some kind of a connoisseur!"

"I'm not a connoisseur, but you're right, I think I had only tasted wine one other time before that night. I actually drink wine now. I guess the difference is that now I can buy it legally, and I can afford to drink it." I handed her a glass and sat down next to her with my own.

I took a big sip. "Speaking of which, I got an interesting phone call today, right before you arrived..." I was about to explain the whole thing, but Tina interrupted.

"You didn't know my name was "Christina" did you, Evan?"

"So it was you! Tina, what gives? You can't be serious about giving me that kind of money!"

"I'm not giving it to you. Justin gave it to you. It was his retirement account."

"Okay, Tina, but it's yours now!"

"No, Evan, it's yours now! Look, Evan, Justin ruined both of our lives for six years. He destroyed something beautiful, because he himself was incapable of appreciating beauty. I'm just so grateful and amazed that I didn't lose you forever because of him. The way that I look at it, he owes you for having taken me away from you. It's probably a silly way to look at things, but I figured if you took your annual teaching salary and multiplied it by the six years that he stole me from you, it would add up to about exactly what's in that retirement account." I did the math quickly in my head and marveled at how close she was.