Read Online No Defense by Rangeley Wallace - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rangeley Wallace
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Jessie.” Tears filled my eyes. “But I think she’d like to be
with you at Abby’s. Thank you though, honey. Thank you so much.” I
sat on the edge of her bed and opened my arms to her. She tried my
lap, gave up, and we snuggled side by side. “Daddy will pick you up
at Abby’s as soon as he can, and then you can come visit me at the
hospital,” I assured her.
I’d hoped to get a gift for Jessie to give
her when she visited the hospital, but hadn’t had time. Eddie would
have to pick something out for her.
Jessie didn’t know-though I’m sure she
sensed-that this was a moment in her life after which things would
never be the same. I felt guilty for that.
As we approached the hospital, our police car
escort close behind us, I thought back to when Jessie had been
born. The thing I remembered most about that day, besides Jessie of
course, was how I’d felt about Eddie. I’d been warned that during
labor I might hate him, scream at him, accuse him of horrible
crimes, but instead the day Jessie was born I fell in love with him
all over again. What a marvelous feeling that was. If only we could
repeat that experience now, when we needed so much a reminder, a
sort of refresher course in the intense feelings that had brought
us together in college.
My freshman year I’d known all about Eddie
Garrett the way you know about someone famous, but I didn’t meet
him until my sophomore year. He was known as a wild man, almost a
legend at age twenty. Part of his fame was based on the fact that
one of the political cartoons he’d done for the school paper had
been published in the New York Times . But there was more. He
rode a motorcycle, he rarely went to class but always made straight As , his best friend, Sam, was black, he dated women from the
city, he played pool, he was the star of the track team, he wore
cowboy boots, and he spoke--along with Sam-at just about every
civil rights and antiwar protest, both on and off the campus.
Eddie turned up one evening at an
out-of-the-way hospital snack bar where on any given night five to
thirty students studied. A few doctors and nurses dropped in for
junk food out of the machines, but usually the small room served as
a college hangout, an extension of the library for those who liked
to eat, drink, or smoke while they studied. I preferred the
hospital snack bar to the modern college library because it had
windows that opened, as well as a small patio area good for study
breaks and star hopping.
That evening Eddie and Sam sat two tables
away from me. I couldn’t help but watch Eddie and listen to his
conversation with Sam. While I’d seen him before, up close I was
struck by his compelling good looks, his steel-gray eyes, and his
wonderful but infrequent smile. When he did smile, he looked like
he was about to do something that most likely would get him
arrested. When he did smile, any woman close enough to think he was
smiling at her found him hard to resist.
By the time I left the snack bar that night,
we’d talked, he’d smiled at me, and I was in love. It was an
instant, almost chemical reaction that had occurred only one other
time in my life, and, as on that occasion, I was not merely
interested, I was one hundred percent committed.
Thereafter I dreamed about Eddie. I thought
about Eddie. I stared at Eddie (in the hospital snack bar, in the
coffee shop, on the quad, at demonstrations, anywhere I could find
him), trying to will him to call me, to talk to me, to do something
with me. By the time of our first date, I had memorized him.
I was brought back to the present by a
vicious contraction at the same time the car slowed to a stop at
the hospital. The black policeman helped Eddie park the car, while
I waited with his partner in the police car. He didn’t talk much,
spending those endless minutes unnecessarily brushing his thin
mustache with his finger.
Eddie returned. He helped me out of the
police car and then just stood there looking at me, smiling
with you at Abby’s. Thank you though, honey. Thank you so much.” I
sat on the edge of her bed and opened my arms to her. She tried my
lap, gave up, and we snuggled side by side. “Daddy will pick you up
at Abby’s as soon as he can, and then you can come visit me at the
hospital,” I assured her.
I’d hoped to get a gift for Jessie to give
her when she visited the hospital, but hadn’t had time. Eddie would
have to pick something out for her.
Jessie didn’t know-though I’m sure she
sensed-that this was a moment in her life after which things would
never be the same. I felt guilty for that.
As we approached the hospital, our police car
escort close behind us, I thought back to when Jessie had been
born. The thing I remembered most about that day, besides Jessie of
course, was how I’d felt about Eddie. I’d been warned that during
labor I might hate him, scream at him, accuse him of horrible
crimes, but instead the day Jessie was born I fell in love with him
all over again. What a marvelous feeling that was. If only we could
repeat that experience now, when we needed so much a reminder, a
sort of refresher course in the intense feelings that had brought
us together in college.
My freshman year I’d known all about Eddie
Garrett the way you know about someone famous, but I didn’t meet
him until my sophomore year. He was known as a wild man, almost a
legend at age twenty. Part of his fame was based on the fact that
one of the political cartoons he’d done for the school paper had
been published in the New York Times . But there was more. He
rode a motorcycle, he rarely went to class but always made straight As , his best friend, Sam, was black, he dated women from the
city, he played pool, he was the star of the track team, he wore
cowboy boots, and he spoke--along with Sam-at just about every
civil rights and antiwar protest, both on and off the campus.
Eddie turned up one evening at an
out-of-the-way hospital snack bar where on any given night five to
thirty students studied. A few doctors and nurses dropped in for
junk food out of the machines, but usually the small room served as
a college hangout, an extension of the library for those who liked
to eat, drink, or smoke while they studied. I preferred the
hospital snack bar to the modern college library because it had
windows that opened, as well as a small patio area good for study
breaks and star hopping.
That evening Eddie and Sam sat two tables
away from me. I couldn’t help but watch Eddie and listen to his
conversation with Sam. While I’d seen him before, up close I was
struck by his compelling good looks, his steel-gray eyes, and his
wonderful but infrequent smile. When he did smile, he looked like
he was about to do something that most likely would get him
arrested. When he did smile, any woman close enough to think he was
smiling at her found him hard to resist.
By the time I left the snack bar that night,
we’d talked, he’d smiled at me, and I was in love. It was an
instant, almost chemical reaction that had occurred only one other
time in my life, and, as on that occasion, I was not merely
interested, I was one hundred percent committed.
Thereafter I dreamed about Eddie. I thought
about Eddie. I stared at Eddie (in the hospital snack bar, in the
coffee shop, on the quad, at demonstrations, anywhere I could find
him), trying to will him to call me, to talk to me, to do something
with me. By the time of our first date, I had memorized him.
I was brought back to the present by a
vicious contraction at the same time the car slowed to a stop at
the hospital. The black policeman helped Eddie park the car, while
I waited with his partner in the police car. He didn’t talk much,
spending those endless minutes unnecessarily brushing his thin
mustache with his finger.
Eddie returned. He helped me out of the
police car and then just stood there looking at me, smiling
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