Glen drew me back to the present. “So, I leave Thursday. Goin’ to visit my gram and then report for basic training. Wanted to tell you first.” He held out a pen and folded piece of notebook paper. “I was hopin’ to get your address so I can write you a letter when I get there.”
“Sure, absolutely.” I unfolded the paper and felt my chest tighten. Glen had written “Friends” across the top in blue ink. The page was blank otherwise. I wrote my address and added my parents’ for good measure.
“Where do you report to?” I asked as I handed it back.
“Fort McClellan. Alabama. Recruiter said I could be an MP.”
The reality of it finally hit me. “What’m I gonna do without you, Glen? I mean, you’re my friend, my sparring partner, my Zen mentor, my friend.”
“You said that already.” He grinned bashfully. “What’re you gonna do?
Stay in school. Marry that little girl you’re seein’. Build skyscrapers. Do great things. An’ remember, don’t rush to judgment. Be mindful. Live in harmony, mind and body.”
That was a long speech for him.
“I’ll try,” I said.
“Do, or do not. There is no try.”
“So now you’re Yoda?” I teased.
“Always liked that line,” he said, back to taciturn.
“Yeah, it’s a good one. Very Zen.” We shared a smile. “Are you having a
going-away party?”
“Don’t think so. Not my style.”
“No,” I agreed.
“So… this is probably goodbye.” He extended a hand.
I pulled him into a hug. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I had to blink back sudden tears, but he didn’t tease me when we pulled apart.
“Yeah, me too,” he said instead.
“C’mon,” I said. “I’ll walk to the frat house with you.”
He shook his head. “You normally go the other way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Go on. I’ll be fine. But… thanks.”
“Yeah. Okay. Then I guess this is goodbye.”
He nodded.
We walked out to the street and parted with a silent wave. He turned toward Fraternity Row. I jogged the other way, across the street and toward a different life.
“Oh my gosh,” Christy said wearily as she closed the bedroom door, “you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”
She’d been working late in her studio on the Kanagawa series.
“I finished with Wren’s part, but I have to do the whole thing again with Sayuri. And Siobhan thinks I really need a third piece, in between the young and the old. Whose dumb idea was it to do a series anyway?”
She shed her clothes in a trail across the floor. I suppressed my annoyance and decided to enjoy the view instead. She stood in front of the mirror on the dresser and began her nightly lotions and potions ritual. I listened politely as she wondered aloud where she’d find a model who fit the general shape and size of a middle-aged Japanese woman.
“Siobhan probably knows someone,” I said. “Or Sayuri herself. Or we can just put an ad in the newspaper.”
“That’d take too long.”
“I could ask random women if they’d like to pose nude.” That earned a glare. “Okay, maybe Sara can help. She knows plenty of models in town.
And she probably knows some of the… um… local dancers.”
I watched with amusement as Christy reacted predictably. At first she tensed to reject the idea outright. But then she thought about it and softened a bit. Finally she slumped and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
“I don’t care where you find her,” she said.
My lips twitched with amusement. “Oh? So it’s my job to find your model?”
“It says so in the Handbook. Page ten.”
I chuckled and went to stand behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the mirror.
“Please?” she said. “I don’t want to argue. I… need your help. I bit off more than I can chew.”
“I’ll help,” I said calmly. “But you have to promise not to get upset if I end up talking to strippers for real.”
“I promise. Although…” She gazed back at me with a suggestive little smile. “You have to take me with you if you actually go to a strip club.” Her brow furrowed. “Does Knoxville even have one?”
“Several,” I laughed.
“Of course you’d know.”
“It’s in the Handbook,” I said blandly. “Page nine. Nude entertainment.”
“Ha ha, very funny. A strip club…,” she mused. Then all of a sudden she blushed.
“Oh? Another fantasy?”
She glared. “Sometimes I really don’t like you.”
“Mmm, except when you do.”
“Except when I do,” she agreed. She put her hand over mine, closed her eyes, and leaned against my chest. We stood like that in quiet communion until she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “You always make me feel better. About everything.”
“Page one in the Handbook.”
She smiled. “You do it really well, even when I’m tired and crabby.” She visibly adjusted her attitude. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask about you. I just came in and started complaining. How was your day?”
I thought about it for a moment and tried to describe my feelings.
“Opposite ends of the spectrum,” I said at last.
“What happened?”
I told her about the high end and my meeting with Joska. Then I swung to the low and my farewell with Glen.
“Oh my gosh, Paul, I’m so sorry.” She turned and slipped her arms around me. “I know how much you like him.”
“I do, but… I think he’ll do well in the military. He’ll be a great MP, too.
He’s so levelheaded.” I chuckled at a memory. “One time I saw him stop a fight with a simple joint lock. He never hit the guy. He just locked him up and ended things peacefully. He isn’t afraid of violence, but it’s always a last resort with him.”
“Like Rich,” Christy said.
“Um… no. Rich is different. Sure, they have the same loyalty and devotion to duty, but Rich is prone to direct action. Glen’s… a peacemaker.”
“Blessed are the peacemakers.”
That drew another chuckle. “Glen’s the closest to an actual Buddhist I’ve ever met.”
“Hey,” Christy protested, “I’m a Buddhist.”
“Says the girl who goes to Mass and just quoted the Christian Bible.”
“Fine, so sue me. I’m both.”
“You are.” I kissed the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her.
“You’re my little Catholic Buddhist sex kitten.”
“I sound really mixed-up when you put it that way.”
“We’re both mixed-up,” I said. “But lucky for us, we’re mixed-up the same way.”
“You can say that again.”
I kissed her hair again instead of repeating myself.
She hugged me tight and said, “I love you. And I’m sorry about Glen.”
“Me too. But… in a way, I’m happy. Happy for him, at least. I’ll miss him, especially his advice, but if you love someone, you have to be willing to set them free.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” She looked up at me. “You love him?”
“I guess I never thought about it till now, but… yeah, I do. Not romantic love, but brotherly love, for sure.”
“And that’s what I love about you,” she said. She kissed my chest and pressed her cheek to my skin. “You see the best in everyone and love them for it. You remind me of Laurie.” She hugged me even tighter.
“Sad Birdy?”
“Sad and happy. Numb and tingly. Empty and full.”
“And you say I paint with words? You’re not so bad yourself.”
“It’s your fault.”
“I can live with that.”
I called Sara the next evening, and she gave me several names and phone numbers to try. Sadly, none of them were actual strippers.