'Chas,' I told him, 'I find your brother's problems as troubling as you do, and I wish I could suggest a simple and guaranteed solution, but I can't. Some problems are insoluble, you know that.'
'I don't want to believe it,' he said. 'It means I can't do a damned thing but wait for a disaster to happen. Herman told me he went to see you.'
He told you that?' I said, mildly surprised. 'Yes, we had a single introductory session. Then he called and said he had decided not to continue.'
'My brother is an asshole,' Chas said gloomily. 'Even he knows it, but he's unwilling to make an effort to change. And as for Tania, she says she and Chester Barrow plan to leave home before school starts after Labor Day. Cherry, do you think I should tell their parents?'
'Yes,' I said,,'I think you should. I know you feel it will be a betrayal of Tania's trust, but the physical safety of the children comes first.'
'Yeah,' he said, 'I guess you're right. And maybe if I tell, it'll convince the parents that they better start paying more attention to their kids. I'll think about it. Will you fix us a drink?'
'I thought you'd never ask,' I said. 'It's a good night for it.'
I was referring to a heavy rain that had started early in the evening and was continuing with no sign of a letup. I had driven to Chas's studio after dinner, through flooded streets and over palm fronds blown down by a blustery wind. The rain was still rattling against the roof of his barn and streaming down the windows, but we were snug and dry.
I poured us glasses of a tawny Spanish port we were, both developing a taste for. The only illumination in the big room came from the desk lamp. It made a cone of light, holding back the shadowed corners. Chas wheeled his chair in reverse until his face was in semidarkness.
'Hey,' I protested, 'I can't see you.'
'That's the way I want it,' he said. 'Because I have a confession to make to you, Cherry.'
I waited.
'Remember when I was under treatment, I told you about a woman named Lucy I was engaged to?'
'I remember,' I said. 'She was killed in a car crash.'
'It was all bullshit. There never was any woman named Lucy.
I made the whole thing up.'
'Why did you do that, Chas?'
'I don't know. Maybe I wanted your sympathy. I really don't know why the hell I told you that lie. It just seemed a good idea at the time.'
'And why are you telling me now that it was a lie?
He took a deep breath. 'Because,' he said, 'I don't want any more lies between us. Nothing fake, nothing make-believe. No more bullshit.'
'Perhaps you told me about Lucy to persuade me that you had been attractive to women before you were injured.'
'That's possible,' he acknowledged. 'At that stage in my therapy I wasn't thinking too clearly.'
'Chas,' I said, 'Lucy is the name of Tommy Termite's girlfriend in your new book, isn't it?'
He wheeled his chair back into the lighted area and stared at me. I had no doubt whatsoever that he was startled.
'My God, he said, 'that's right. And I never made the connection.
What does it mean, doc?'
'it means you're Tommy Termite,' I said, laughing.
'Searching for romance.'
He looked at me thoughtfully. 'You know,' he said, 'you may be on target. I'm writing a fucking autobiography.'
'Only it's not about your life,' I reminded him. Itit's about the way you want to live-a projected autobiography.
I was still taking it lightly, but Chas wasn't. I could see he was shaken.
'I was going to have them marry,' he said slowly. 'Tommy Termite and Lucy. if the book was a success, I planned sequels.
They'd have kid termites, raise a family. it could go on forever.
Was I dreaming of me?'
'Only you can answer that, Chas.'
He laughed suddenly. 'I could have picked a more impressive insect than a termite to serve as my alter ego- Termites have some 'Oh, I don't know,' I said. admirable qualities.
They're determined, they work hard, and they survive despite exterminators. They also happen to have a soldier caste.'
'Crazy,' he said, shaking his head. 'Chas the termite.'
'May I be Lucy?' I asked him.
He wheeled his chair over to where I was sitting and took my hand.
'Do you think that's possible?' he said, looking sternly at me. 'No bullshit now. All I'm asking is, do you think it's possible?'
'Yes,' I said, 'I think it's possible.'
He set his glass on the floor and reached for me. I put my glass aside and leaned to him. It was a twisted, strained embrace, fumbled and awkward, but we managed. We kissed.
'Tommy,' I said, stroking his cheek.
'Lucy,' he said, and we both giggled.
I don't know what they call it now, necking, petting, smooching-it all sounds so old-fashioned. But that is what we did, kids in a secret place, exploring while the rain surrounded us and blanked out the world.
It was sweet, so sweet.
We stopped, breathless, and stared at each other.
'Give me time,' he said in a voice that was almost a croak.
'I need time. Please.'
I nodded and smoothed his hair back from his brow. We picked up our glasses and finished our wine without saying another word.
After a while I rose, gathered up my things, and gave him a farewell peck. I left him slumped in his wheelchair, head bowed.
I drove home slowly through a downpour that seemed to be worsening. I tried to sort out my feelings, but they were too chaotic for easy classification. It was only after I was safely home, showered, and in bed that I was able to put my thoughts in order and determine what I wanted to do.
I must have this man, I decided that. With marriage, without marriage, with sex, without sex-none of that seemed important. I just needed him in my life, and I thought he needed me. He had lost his legs and would never regrow them. I had lost-or was in danger of losing-part of myself as well. The loving part. I didn't want that gone. I wanted it to thrive.
I felt I knew Chas. I recognized his weaknesses and deficiencies as clearly as I did my own. But what of that? Love, if not blind, is uncaring. I mean there are really no requirements or standards, are there?
These meandering musings before I fell asleep had a curious conclusion.
They made me question if I analysis of Mabel Barrow and had been correct in my Herman Todd. I had labeled them insubstantial personalities intent only on sexual gratification. Now I wondered if I truly understood them.
Perhaps, like me, they were simply hopeful searchers, aching to give, eager to have their tender passion requited. just to love and be loved in returnit sounds so simple, doesn't it? So easy.
So right.
Then why is it so rare?
ANA TODD told my mother that I didn't think Chester Barrow was a very practical boy, and she laughed and asked me why I thought so.
'Because,' I said, 'his father bought him a fishing cap with a long bill that shades your eyes. But Chet wears it backwards so the bill shades his neck and the sun is always in his eyes.'
'Well,' she said, 'maybe that's a fad with boys these days.
