Saturday, December 20, 2014

History of the Trap: March Coup Part 4

4

The next morning I was in the cafetorium early, sitting by myself, scratching out some notes, trying to outline where The Sands of Loren would go next.  I had concluded an important plotline, embedding something important to me (whether others understood it or not), and now I needed to take it in a different direction.  I wasn't sure what that was going to be.  Maybe somebody would try to wrest control of the hospital from Andrea Goldman.  Maybe bring in a new love interest for Dr. Brenda.  Maybe have the hospital invaded by blue aliens.  I just didn't know yet.
As I was musing over these momentous decisions, Ginny Estill came by and sat next to me.  I had not seen or talked to her much without Artie by her side.   She was still beautiful to me, her Diane Keatonesque looks, and her imaginative, flighty personality just made her more attractive.  But I had long since reconciled that she was my best friend Artie's girl.  I would not interfere with that.  And falling as hard as I did for Lisa made me realize that I could move beyond my obsession with Ginny.
Even though Lisa was gone, the memory was still too strong for me to move on to anyone else, and if I did, it wouldn't be Ginny.  Whatever my attraction to Ginny was, her attachment to Artie was something I would not interfere with, under any conditions.  You set up these barriers, and you try to stay strong, and then the Trap just goes on and on, and you realize....well, that's for later, Doctor Duncan.
Ginny punched my arm playfully.  "How are you doing, Lance?  I haven't had much chance lately to talk to you one on one."
Yeah, in maybe like half a year.  "I'm okay, Ginny.  Like everybody else, just trying to find a way to cope with things each and every day."
Ginny looked at me, empathy dripping from her wide, expressive hazel green eyes.  "I know it's hard.  I miss her, too.  I miss so many of them.  So many from our group.  Tom, Sue, Jim, Lisa; it's just too much sometimes."
"It is a hard thing.  It's made even harder when your girlfriend's killer walks free," I answered, swallowing the pain, trying not to break into tears.
"You have to let that go, Lance.  At least stop blaming your father.  He did the best he could."
I looked at her coldly.  "Well, his best wasn't good enough, was it?"
Ginny was miffed.  "I am so sorry that you are so wrapped up in this that you can't see his side.  If you want to blame someone, why don't you blame Mr. Tate for not building a more solid case?  He was completely blindsided by the witnesses Mr. Branch presented, completely unprepared for what they were going to say."
I had enough.  "I don't know.  I don't want to talk about it."
"Don't you understand?  You have a father here, and he loves you.  You know how many of us don't?"
Many people had reminded me of that.  I knew it was true, but I got tired of hearing it.  But something in the way Ginny said it struck a nerve.  And I didn't know, in her case, if she was bemoaning the fact that her father wasn't here, or that he didn't love her.  My impression of her pharmacist father was not good, that he dipped into his own pharmacy supplies and was neglectful if not outright abusive.  "I know.  I'm sorry, Ginny.  I just can't think about that right now."
Ginny nodded her head that she understood.  We were quiet for a moment.
I broke the silence with a new topic.  "I see they have posted a list of the first couples applying for a marriage contract."
"Yes!  Did you see that Carol Dietrich was on the list?"  Carol was the first girl who let me date her more than once, and Ginny was aware of that (we used to talk to each other about all kinds of things).  My serious, romantic nature at the time led me to tell her on the third date that I loved her.  She laughed and told me she was no where near ready to be that committed to someone, and never dated me again.
"Yeah, I saw that.  She certainly changed her mind from when I dated her."
"Women do that sometimes," Ginny said, laughing.  "Bob Short and Pam Kordowski were on the list."
"Yeah, I think everybody saw that coming.  But you know what names were not on that list?"
Ginny looked excited, like I was going to tell her some really juicy gossip.  "No!  Who?"
"You and Artie."
Ginny laughed.  "What?  Are you kidding?  You didn't seriously expect me to be on that list, did you?"
"Well, you two seem to really like each other."
"Of course we do!  Artie is pretty cool.  I like spending time with him, for sure.  But marriage?  Ha!  I mean, I know we may be trapped here for the rest of our lives, I'm not naive, but I always felt like if I got married, and that is a big if, it would be well past when I got out of college, much less high school."
"Does Artie feel that way too?"
She paused for a minute, as if it was something she hadn't thought about before.  "I'm not sure.  He really hasn't said.  But it only matters if both of us agree to it, and I don't, so his opinion only matters when it matches mine."
"Okay.  If you say so."
She huffed up a bit.  "What do you mean, if I say so?"
"Well, you said it yourself. Women do that sometimes."
"Do what?"
"Change their minds, like Carol did," I said, smiling slyly.
"Well, not this woman!"
Somebody came up to us and stared at me.  It was Davis Deen, someone from our class who lived in my neighborhood but had little to do with me since being part of the boys who came over to my house to humiliate me at basketball.  He was taller than me, and had brown hair, slightly longer than normal, covering most of his neck.  Most of the time I had seen him he was sneering and snotty, but he just looked businesslike as he stared at me.  "Come with me," Davis said.  It was not a request.  It was a command.
Ginny didn't like that.  "What's your problem?  You can't just come up to somebody and just say that?  Who are you?  What do you want?"
Clearly, Ginny didn't recognize him.  But I did.  And I knew who he was an associate of.  It had been awhile, but I was not afraid to go see him.
"It's okay, Ginny," I reassured her.  "I'll go with you, Davis."
At least this time I didn't have a bag over my head.


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