Chapter 18

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Warren was still in love with Cheryl but his liberal spirit wouldn’t let him tell her or even fully acknowledge it to himself. In theory, they had an open relationship but in reality it was Cheryl who had an open relationship while Warren watched and waited with anxiety. Finally, she had told him she needed to be alone and that they needed to separate. The end of their relationship was too painful for him to contemplate. Warren’s jealousy of Brad caused him to pretend to himself that he didn’t like him. Warren allowed himself the luxury of feeling that Brad was a fool who could be duped easily. In truth, he liked and admired Brad and Brad knew it, but Warren needed to feel as if he were fooling Brad into only thinking that he liked and admired him. Cheryl talked about Brad often and almost always with animus but Warren understood that her animus was caused by Brad’s rejection of her.

He said, “Brad was right. I couldn’t really argue with him on that.”

She said, “You can’t have a wolf in the backyard with a three-year-old wandering around. Did you see what he did to the kittens?”

“Yes.” Warren hung his head. “There were just a few patches of black and white fur on the grass.” He laughed, ruefully, “Anne had to tell Jo that they gave the kittens to a family, so she wouldn’t cry. Did you hear what Brad said?”

“No.”

“He said he wasn’t worried about his cat. He says because his cat weighs 21 pounds and because he taught it to fight, he thinks the cat would be a good match for the wolf.”

She said, “That idiot. It sounds like something he would say.” Her eyes blazed. “He thinks he can write a novel about the commune and he’s a mathematician. He’s never written a novel in his life. He hasn’t even taken a creative writing class”

Warren had majored in creative writing. He said, “He knows more than you think but it’s true, I’ve seen his stuff. It’s pretty pathetic. He has a lot of weird ideas.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for instance, he thinks the Indians had as much influence on rock music as Negroes. Can you believe that?”

She laughed. “It sounds like him.”

“How did he put it? He said rock n’ roll is the savage war cry of our primitive, stone age ancestors, the Indians, who we thought we killed off but who live in our souls and are taking revenge on us though our music.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I swear to God.” He fixed her with his brown, boyish eyes, “He lives in his imagination Cheryl.”

She looked at him for an explanation. They had lived together for almost a year and often communicated with gestures instead of words.

He said, “Well, he claims to have won a prize for mathematics and he says he was the starting quarterback on the varsity football team in high school and that he was all-conference. A mathematical football player! Do you believe that?”

She hadn’t even questioned that Brad had played football. She had believed him instinctively. She smiled to herself and she knew that it was Warren’s jealousy that was speaking but she said, “He doesn’t have any mathematics books in his room. Only philosophy and literature books.” She found it difficult to believe that he could be a mathematician.

Warren said, “You’ve been doing some spying.” He smiled conspiratorially, “You’ve been sneaking around in his room.”

They looked into each other’s eyes somewhat uneasily. Warren was glad to find the old intimacy there but it made Cheryl uncomfortable. She laughed, nervously. She said, “He’s supposed to be such a big stud with all that experience with women.”

Warren said, “He hasn’t even made a pass at you. But then again, you’ve been sleeping with Derrin.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if it wasn’t important, as if it was just a fling. He wanted to believe that she would return to him. It was difficult for her to be honest with him because she didn’t want to hurt him. She said, in a tired, petulant voice, “Brad and I made it.” She watched his body flinch and blushed slightly at the unexpected sadistic pleasure that she experienced.

He sighed. He looked up nervously and thought that he had successfully hidden his jealousy from her. She said, maliciously, “He made love like John Wayne. It took about two minutes. I was so shocked I just got up and walked out on him.”

“Good. It serves him right. Yeah, come to think about it, once he bragged to me about all the women he’s had.”

She bristled. “That doesn’t sound like him. He doesn’t brag about things like that.”

He said, “Well, he told me that he had a girl friend in elementary school that he went to bed with for about six years.”

Cheryl was silent, meditative. “Well, that’s not bragging.”

Warren knew that she would defend Brad, even after she attacked him viciously and he knew that she wouldn’t allow anyone else to attack him.

She said, “The reason I went into his room was because I smelled this horrible stench coming from in there.”

“Yeah?”

“I opened the door and looked around. There was a pile of dirty underwear in the corner and it was coming from there.”

“He must be a real pig.”

“Well, I went over there and smelled it and I just about fell over.”

“That’s funny, I always thought he was kind of a neat freak.”

“Are you kidding? Well, I went over to his bed and there was an undershirt crumpled up on the bed, just under the covers, kind of sticking out. I picked it up and it was crumpled up and wet.”

Warren made a sound of disgust.

She said, “I went over to the undershirts in the corner and they were caked. Every one of them.”

Warren broke out laughing and slapped his knee.

Cheryl said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he just lives in his imagination. Why would any man do that when he is living in a house with three women?”

He said, “I think his story about being a mathematician is a lie also. I looked into it. I forget what he called the prize. It was a medal of some kind. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and looked it up in the library. It’s a big deal. I remember. It’s the Field medal. They award it once every four years to the best mathematicians in the world. He didn’t win a prize like that. It would be impossible. He wouldn’t be living here if he did. He would be a professor in a university.”

Cheryl said, “He said his Grandfather did it.”

“Huh?”

“He said his grandfather made it seem like a game. He told me that his mother was cold and that his grandfather was the only person he was close to in his family, except for his brother.”

Warren asked, “Is it really true that his mother is the TV evangelist, Rhonda Bradford?”

“Of course it’s true. Why do you doubt it? He even looks like her.”

An awed look came over Warren’s face. He said, in a small voice, “Maybe he is telling the truth.” He looked down at the hardwood floor and shook his head in disbelief.

She said, “He said that mathematics was a game and that he never felt like he was learning anything or doing anything unusual. He told me that there was a big controversy about whether his grandfather or he discovered the new math stuff but he said it was him. Maybe it wasn’t.”

Warren said, disdainfully, “How do you know he isn’t making all of it up? And the girlfriend! I mean it sounds really strange that he would have a sexual relationship with a child for six years.”

She said, indignantly, “Warren! He was a child himself.” Her tone of voice was sharp. It was a tone of voice he had learned not to question. She added. “Have you forgotten what happened to me?”

“You were raised in an orphanage, he wasn’t,” he said glumly.

She felt a sudden urge to make love but she was careful to conceal it. She said quietly, “He showed me pictures from his Piedmont high school yearbook.”

Warren’s face was flushed and his mouth dropped open. He was consumed with jealousy. He had been taught in Sunday school that jealousy and envy are sins. To conceal this sin from himself, it was natural for him to attack the person who caused it so he converted Brad’s virtues to overweening pride and arrogance.

She said, “He isn’t lying about playing football.”

Warren snapped, “He might have been second string.”

“Well, there is a picture of the head cheerleader, the home coming queen and Brad together on the front page of the year book. And he was voted most likely to succeed.”

“Jesus.” They were silent. A crooked, scar-like smile appeared on Warren’s face. He added, in a dejected, bitter voice, “Yeah, and look at him now.”

She didn’t say anything. In her eyes, Warren was a simpleton and a boy who would never grow up or understand anything but the pulp fiction that he loved to read and write. She laughed at his attempts at fiction which, she thought, were a pathetically bad imitation of Raymond Chandler.

There was a noise downstairs. They looked into each other’s eyes. Derrin was the only other person in the house. She got up and made a movement to go downstairs. Warren asked, “Where’s Brad, anyway?”

“He’s teaching Anne to drive. They took Jo to Stinson beach.”

“Who’s that downstairs, Derrin?”

“Yeah.”

Warren said, “I thought I saw Anne driving the other day!”

“She drives sometimes but she said she is terrified of driving. She only drives when it is absolutely necessary.”

Warren said, “She looked a little nervous, come to think about it.” He looked up at her anxiously. He said, “Derrin is a kind of freak too, isn’t he?
“What do you mean?”

Their voices had become softer and more intimate. He said, using one of Cheryl’s expressions, “Well, he seems a little grandiose. Like he wants to change the world into a big commune or something.”

“He’s an idealist.” She snickered slightly.

“Yeah, he can’t get it up in the real world.” The thought of Cheryl sleeping chastely with Derrin amused Warren.

She didn’t meet his eyes. She reached over and closed the door. “I think his problem is that he doesn’t share himself with anyone. He is a very lonely man.”

“Yeah.” Warren was not good at analyzing character but he could recognize a good analysis when he heard it.

She said, “Derrin doesn’t really tell me anything about himself. He just says that he was raised like I was but he didn’t know it. That he was raised as an orphan. He hardly knew his father and mother and was sent to boarding schools. He pretends to be middle class but I think his parents have more money than he says. His father is already retired and plays golf all the time. He’s been divorced twice. He has a young girl friend. We were going to see him in Santa Cruz or he was going to come up here with his girlfriend but it didn’t happen. I feel very distant from Derrin. Even though we sleep in the same bed. It’s strange. I’ve never had that happen before. After the first time, we’ve never done it again.” They were sitting on the edge of the bed again. She looked into his eyes. “I swear it isn’t me.”

Warren said, “He’s an odd duck.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

Warren asked, “What about Anne? I haven’t had a chance to talk to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what kind of person is she? Do you know her?”

“No. Not much. We’ve just had a few short conversations. She’s a Country and Western singer. She puts on a simple, country girl air but she isn’t simple. She’s very smart. She has a really nice voice. I’ve heard her sing. She can play the guitar too.”

“She’s very pretty. Is she balling Brad?”

Cheryl laughed. “If Brad was a normal guy, I’d say yes. I mean they’re going to Stinson Beach together. They’re both unattached. What can I say?”

“And they’ll be in their bathing suits, together.” He laughed.

Her eyes flashed. She said, “But Brad is not normal.”

It seemed to Warren that Cheryl simply wanted to go to bed with Brad, not that she loved him, and that she hid her desire from everyone with exaggerated disdain. In fact, lately, she had begun pushing away Brad’s attempts at friendship and building a wall between them that she would only allow to be climbed in an act of passion. On the other hand, she treated Warren with affection from habit but she disdained him for accepting the easy, hypocritical kindness that she offered, only half believing that he would cling to it and not allow himself to see the truth of her feelings for him. She got up. She said, in a low voice, “I need to talk to Derrin.”

They went down the recently carpeted two flights of stairs and found Derrin in one of his saturnine moods. His face was slack and his eyebrows arched more than usual. Warren never took Derrin seriously. Warren eyed him suspiciously, as if Derrin were an actor getting ready to rehearse a scene.

Derrin was unreachable and impervious and, at bottom, like his father, a manipulator of people. He was a businessman who had found a bad business, communes, but clung to it all the more tenaciously.

Derrin said, “He’s not here. I can’t believe it. It’s not like Brad. He said they would be back before five.”

Warren asked, “Where’d he go?”

Cheryl said, “I told you, to Stinson beach.”

Derrin growled and whined at the same time, “It’s not like him to be late.”

It was almost 6 o’clock.

Cheryl asked, “Where’s Jas?”

Derrin said, “She’s with Rod Green, in the city. She called this afternoon.”

Warren said, “Rod Green? Geez. That guy operates fast.”

Derrin smiled. “I told you about Rod.” He added sharply, “Brad did this last Friday too when you two were late shopping for dinner and we missed watching Star Trek together. He’s not acting like himself.” He looked at his watch, “It’s almost 6.” He knew that Cheryl hated Star Trek but it was a ritual that he thought bound the commune together more tightly. He said, with a resigned sigh, “We might as well start the meeting without them.”

Warren said, “Well, I guess I should go.”

Cheryl said, “You can stay if you want to.”

Warren said, “I’m meeting Dave, Jas’s ex-boyfriend, in Oakland tonight. I’d better get going.”

Derrin asked, “What on earth for?”

Warren said, in a cheerful voice, “Oh, it’s business. You know I’ve got to find a place for my wolf puppy.”

Derrin thought of Warren as a simpleton and couldn’t understand how a woman as beautiful as Cheryl could be associated with him or how Brad could condescend to be friendly with him. Derrin said, “Having a wolf tied up in the front yard was a stupid idea.”

Warren colored and his mouth dropped open slightly. He was a black belt in karate but Derrin insulted him with impunity. Warren laughed to conceal his anger. He gave Derrin a sidelong glance to communicate his disdain to Cheryl, waved perfunctorily and left.

Derrin said, “I’ve looked into the ABC agency and they’ve got a lot of rental cars to be returned to Seattle for fifty dollars each. They pay gas and insurance. They can’t guarantee any return cars though. We’ll have to hitch back to the Bay Area. Brad and Jasmine have agreed to drive a car, I’ll drive one and I’m counting on you to drive one. Raney said she might help us by driving a car. Anne can’t leave Jo alone for that long and she’s afraid to drive that far anyway. Rod Green’s exempt. He’s working at the airport and paying rent for the tiny room opposite Brad’s room that he rarely sleeps in. I don’t think it’s fair to try to make him go.”

Cheryl almost spat out the words, “Why on earth would Raney want to drive a car for us?” She hated the fact that Brad had fallen for Raney. She thought of her as “the fat, little Jew.”

“She hasn’t decided yet.”

Cheryl had a driver’s license but didn’t have a car. She had driven Warren’s car occasionally but she wasn’t confident. Derrin continued, “I’ll follow you all the way to Seattle. We can all drive together in a caravan. It’s freeway almost all the way to Seattle. We can hitch back in groups of two or three.”

Cheryl had fallen into bed with Derrin after she felt that Brad had rejected her and now she felt humiliated and frustrated by his impotence. She refused to go back to Warren. She had thought about running, but she had run several times before and it had always made things worse. She said, “It scares me to drive eight hundred miles.”

Derrin didn’t look up from his notebook, “It’s all freeway.”

She felt desperate. Feelings that she hadn’t had since the orphanage surfaced. She felt the same way about Derrin as she had about the head father in the orphanage. The sex, or lack of it, wasn’t the problem. She felt exploited by him even though he hadn’t touched her since the first night. She felt dirty and exploited and desperate and she hated his hypocritical sanctimonious rhetoric. Derrin was impotent and yet she had felt compelled to share his bed and even his grandiose ideas: he wanted to be the head coordinator of all the communes in the United States. She hated him for believing in open marriage and free love and yet not making love to her. She had been called beautiful by so many men and yet she always felt unloved and unwanted except by men she didn’t respect or love.

She said, “Maybe Warren will drive with me.” But she didn’t want him to. She had said it masochistically, to verify that Derrin was not jealous of Warren and didn’t care if she went back to him or not. She changed the subject. “I don’t know why Warren said that Jas’ ex boyfriend, Mark, was going to help him with his wolf. He just finished telling me that Mark wouldn’t help him.” It was an attempt to find a new place for intimacy, something they could share behind Warren’s back.

Derrin said, “No one with any sense would try to raise wolves for pets. It has been proven to be impossible. Brad is right.”

“Mark hates Brad.”

“Why on earth does he hate Brad?”

She said, “I don’t know. Warren said he did.”

Derrin said, “He’s probably jealous of him because he thinks Brad is balling Jasmine. But she’s with Rod right now. Rod Green is the real Don Juan. He ought to be jealous of Rod.”

She arched an eyebrows and gave him a sidelong glance, “I’ve heard that Brad is worse.”

“I don’t think so. Brad has been hurt by women. He’s heavily defended.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he treats you.” Derrin looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was looking inward, with great emotion. “You are a very beautiful woman and you’ve treated him very well. You’ve been extremely nice to him and he’s kept his distance. He wouldn’t do that unless he had been hurt by women. He’s keeping his distance for a reason.”

She said, sharply, “He shouldn’t have gone to Stinson beach, alone, with Anne. Nothing good can come of that.”

“Come on! You must be jealous.”

“She’s an attractive, unmarried woman with a child and a history of a bad marriage and a lot of bad love affairs. She’s up to no good. She’ll have Brad trapped into a marriage ...”

“Nonsense. You don’t know him. I know a little bit. He told me some things before he started to get so paranoid. He said his mother interfered with a relationship he had with a Jewish girl he wanted to marry. After that, he started a promiscuous life and after about five years became thoroughly disgusted with it. He just thinks he can find some perfect woman somewhere to marry and he won’t settle for anything else. He’s completely deluded, of course, but Anne obviously isn’t the perfect woman. She’s a Country and Western singer and she hasn’t even been to college. He’s a world class mathematician. Or was.”

She asked, “Is it really true that he is a world class mathematician? How do you know he isn’t lying?”

“Are you kidding? My father tried to make me study engineering. I’ve had mathematics classes through differential equations. He knows stuff you can’t even believe. He showed me three proofs of the Pythagorean Theorem and he said he knew about seven more. He started in on a proof that pi is transcendental that made me break out laughing. I didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was talking about.”

“That doesn’t mean he is a world class mathematician.”

“I looked up his name.” He smiled his wicked smile. “He won it. The Fields Medal. It comes with a fifteen thousand Canadian dollar prize. He thinks I don’t know he’s got money.” His eyes blazed maliciously. She was silent. She looked into his eyes with quiet desperation.

He said, “Don’t feel bad about Brad. He likes you. I can see it in his eyes. He is a poor, unhappy soul who has been harmed by his mother, or at least he thinks so.”

“He’s not like her at all. I’ve seen her on TV!”

“He’s looking for the perfect woman, the woman in heaven. The woman he thinks he lost in high school.”

The Citroen’s emergency brake made a loud squeak as it pulled up in front of the commune.

Derrin said, “There they are. At last. It’s not like Brad to be so late.” They sat at the table waiting for them to come in. Anne came through the door first, holding Jo’s hand and Brad followed.

Derrin said, “What happened to you?”

Brad said, “We got into an accident.”

“An accident?”

Jo said, “The woman got whiplash. It made a big noise. I cried.”

Brad explained what happened.

Anne said glumly, “I don’t have any insurance either.” She put her hands on her head. “I’m tired, Brad. I’m going to go upstairs.”

Jo said, “Me too,” and followed her mother upstairs.

After a few words with Derrin and Cheryl, Brad extricated himself and went upstairs to his room where he found his cat, Zeta, waiting for his fifteen minute rub down and night of reading with Brad.

That night, Jasmine and Rod Green came home very late and made so much noise they woke up Brad. They made love in Rod’s small room across the hall. They didn’t bother to shut the door. He thought Jasmine should have shown more discretion but he was happy just the same because it demonstrated that she didn’t expect Brad to be her “old man,” after all.

Chapter 19

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