Read Online Stages by Donald Bowie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Donald Bowie
Tags: Romance
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He’s blaming himself for what happened. I told him I know he didn’t crash into me deliberately, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference what I say. I can’t understand why he’s tormenting himself so about an accident. ”
“Poor Eric,” Melanie said. “He hates himself for having hurt you, Kath. I mean, it’s not easy for guys like him and Mike. They hurt their mothers, and I suppose they think they hurt all women, because they can’t ever be with a woman.” Paula sighed. “I wouldn’t want to be Mike, or Eric.” She looked at the box of chocolates.
“Come to think of it, I wouldn’t want to be David, either,” she said, finishing her thought.
“When I was in high school,” Melanie said, “I had this little short friend who wanted a boyfriend so badly that she sometimes wished she’d been born a boy. She thought it was so much easier for men. I’ve never felt that way myself.”
She gave the Jolly Green Giant a sympathetic smile.
“I think it’s a privilege to be a woman,” she said. “I think it’s ennobling, when so much of your role in life is…forgiving.”
12
By the end of the week, despite what anyone said to him, Eric still had not snapped out of it. He was a pale, blond freshman with a weak chin, inexperienced and insecure. Little things got to him, and the accident was a very big thing. Late Friday afternoon, as Mike was leaving the theater for the hospital, he heard talking in Mr. Cherry’s office. He listened. What he heard was Mr. Cherry’s voice—that rustle that sounded as if he were stepping delicately, one teensy foot at a time, across lily pads or into the empty papers in Kathy’s box of kosher chocolates. Mike also recognized Eric’s voice.
“I just feel so rotten,” he was saying.
Mr. Cherry’s reply to this was indistinct.
Mike heard Eric say, “I can’t concentrate on the books or anything.”
This time Mr. Cherry’s reply was clearly audible.
“Eric, I think you have a thing or two to learn about yourself. Perhaps I shall be the one to teach you these things.”
Mike wanted to kick in Mr. Cherry’s door and yell at Eric, “Don’t you know what he’s after?”
Then he thought, But what am I after?
And he slowly walked away.
The following Monday morning, Mike tried to look the other way when he saw Mr. Cherry’s old, derby-shaped Peugeot pulling into the theater’s parking lot. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made him stare in spite of himself. Mr. Cherry was not driving the car.
Eric was.
By Tuesday, when Kathy was released from the hospital, everyone but she knew. And she found out about it at the little homecoming party that Melanie and Paula threw for her at the Greek bar and grill.
One of the first things Kathy said was, “Is Eric still depressed about what happened?”
“It seems that Mr. Cherry has taken Eric under his wing, Kath,” Melanie replied.
“That’s one way to put it,” Paula said. “The fact is, the kid’s letting himself be carted around like a kitten in a little girl’s baby carriage.”
“I heard Riddiford say that Cherry might take this offer he got from someplace up in Vermont,” David said.
“Why not?” said Melanie. “Now that he’s got Eric to take along as a souvenir of this place.”
“Riddiford would probably like to take off somewhere himself,” David said. “With Lauren.”
“Oh, it’s all so sordid,” Melanie sighed. “And in such a small-town way. All these student-faculty affairs…I wish I’d skipped mine. There’s so much arrested development that has to go into them. I remember when I was growing up, there was this kid on our block. He sort of looked like Goofy, you know, in Mickey Mouse. He was around fourteen when I was around ten. And he liked playing with the ten-year-old set. Everybody’s mother thought he was a little retarded. Ha.”
“Did he ever try to do anything to you?” Paula asked.
“Yeah,” Melanie replied. “And I hit him
“Poor Eric,” Melanie said. “He hates himself for having hurt you, Kath. I mean, it’s not easy for guys like him and Mike. They hurt their mothers, and I suppose they think they hurt all women, because they can’t ever be with a woman.” Paula sighed. “I wouldn’t want to be Mike, or Eric.” She looked at the box of chocolates.
“Come to think of it, I wouldn’t want to be David, either,” she said, finishing her thought.
“When I was in high school,” Melanie said, “I had this little short friend who wanted a boyfriend so badly that she sometimes wished she’d been born a boy. She thought it was so much easier for men. I’ve never felt that way myself.”
She gave the Jolly Green Giant a sympathetic smile.
“I think it’s a privilege to be a woman,” she said. “I think it’s ennobling, when so much of your role in life is…forgiving.”
12
By the end of the week, despite what anyone said to him, Eric still had not snapped out of it. He was a pale, blond freshman with a weak chin, inexperienced and insecure. Little things got to him, and the accident was a very big thing. Late Friday afternoon, as Mike was leaving the theater for the hospital, he heard talking in Mr. Cherry’s office. He listened. What he heard was Mr. Cherry’s voice—that rustle that sounded as if he were stepping delicately, one teensy foot at a time, across lily pads or into the empty papers in Kathy’s box of kosher chocolates. Mike also recognized Eric’s voice.
“I just feel so rotten,” he was saying.
Mr. Cherry’s reply to this was indistinct.
Mike heard Eric say, “I can’t concentrate on the books or anything.”
This time Mr. Cherry’s reply was clearly audible.
“Eric, I think you have a thing or two to learn about yourself. Perhaps I shall be the one to teach you these things.”
Mike wanted to kick in Mr. Cherry’s door and yell at Eric, “Don’t you know what he’s after?”
Then he thought, But what am I after?
And he slowly walked away.
The following Monday morning, Mike tried to look the other way when he saw Mr. Cherry’s old, derby-shaped Peugeot pulling into the theater’s parking lot. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made him stare in spite of himself. Mr. Cherry was not driving the car.
Eric was.
By Tuesday, when Kathy was released from the hospital, everyone but she knew. And she found out about it at the little homecoming party that Melanie and Paula threw for her at the Greek bar and grill.
One of the first things Kathy said was, “Is Eric still depressed about what happened?”
“It seems that Mr. Cherry has taken Eric under his wing, Kath,” Melanie replied.
“That’s one way to put it,” Paula said. “The fact is, the kid’s letting himself be carted around like a kitten in a little girl’s baby carriage.”
“I heard Riddiford say that Cherry might take this offer he got from someplace up in Vermont,” David said.
“Why not?” said Melanie. “Now that he’s got Eric to take along as a souvenir of this place.”
“Riddiford would probably like to take off somewhere himself,” David said. “With Lauren.”
“Oh, it’s all so sordid,” Melanie sighed. “And in such a small-town way. All these student-faculty affairs…I wish I’d skipped mine. There’s so much arrested development that has to go into them. I remember when I was growing up, there was this kid on our block. He sort of looked like Goofy, you know, in Mickey Mouse. He was around fourteen when I was around ten. And he liked playing with the ten-year-old set. Everybody’s mother thought he was a little retarded. Ha.”
“Did he ever try to do anything to you?” Paula asked.
“Yeah,” Melanie replied. “And I hit him
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