“Hi, Tal,” I greeted cheerfully.
“You sound good, Kate,” my friend responded. “I might have a new roommate for you. Actually, Chen Xue found out about her. She is starting in the Textile Department this fall.”
I could barely contain my excitement. After living with Tamara in Virginia, I never expected to anxiously take my chances with another mystery roommate, but I desperately needed to put the humiliation of my defunct relationship with Neil behind me. Talbert was the only person who knew the entire truth about why I returned Neil’s engagement ring.
“She’s in England.”
“England?” I repeated.
“She’s moving here for graduate school and doesn’t know anyone. Maybe you can sucker her into living with you.”
Talbert gave me Gwen’s telephone number and I called her the next morning after studying the time zone map in the phone book. Gwen and I had a pleasant conversation and she agreed to be my new roommate. When I returned to South Carolina, I would secure an apartment for us, fax her the lease to sign, and pick her up at the Atlanta airport. Then I performed the distasteful task of calling Neil and telling him I would be moving out as soon as possible. Of course, Neil expected this, but having to face him while loading my belongings into Talbert’s truck promised to be uncomfortable.
Fortunately, I could drive to the rink immediately after talking to Neil. A couple of hours on the ice would purge the conversation from my system and refresh me for the evening’s date with Howard. I had become friendly with the other adults who frequented the Sacramento rink and knew most of the regulars by name. Eric, the double jumper who admired my layback, showed me how to do stars; a running toe assisted series of forward outside three-turns executed in a camel position. In competition, stars are usually performed toward the end of a program as a precursor to a final butterfly jump or spin combination. Since Eric skated counterclockwise, he demonstrated the stars as left forward outside three-turns. I copied his movements exactly, on my left foot in the anti-clockwise direction, contrary to my natural inclination.
Fortunately, my counterclockwise skills had improved, largely due to Willa’s coordination exercises, making my first rough rendition of stars possible. Turning the three, my unemployed leg reached upward and my torso dipped into a camel position. Swinging back down, my free toe pick found the ice, crashing into the delicate surface a little too vigorously, and pushed me forward via a left back inside three-turn resulting in a left forward outside edge. This edge prepared me for the next slow motion star in the sequence. Eric hooked a camel at the end of his star series; but I, unable to spin counterclockwise, simply stepped to an exit edge. I played with counter-rotational stars for much of the session later experimenting with an upright version in my own direction. From the upright toe turns, I readily stepped into an L-spin, layback or scratch; further expanding my repertoire.
At the end of the session, I thanked Eric for the free lesson, which began a long flirtation with stars and related movements. Naïve mimicry made it possible for me to perform attractive toe-turns in both directions, an interesting choreographic element for competitive programs.
“Maybe you can show me the secret to that ridiculously low sit spin. Your butt almost drags the ice,” Eric cajoled.
“I would like to learn that too,” Patrice, the woman who could do axels and spread eagles, interjected.
Flattered that these accomplished adult skaters wanted to learn something from relatively inexpert me, I ventured, “Are you going to be here tomorrow?”
During the four weeks that I spent in California healing from my broken engagement and the death of Victoria Perez, I saw Howard almost every day. If we did not go out, he stopped by the house on his way to or from work. Howard chatted with my father, who developed a fondness for the charming young man. My parents had never met Neil, though they did not object to our engagement. They may have perceived Neil as a stabilizing influence, an intelligent man from a wealthy family who could provide a comfortable future for me. Howard went out of his way to please my father and often arrived at the house with a thin crust pepperoni pizza, my dad’s favorite, not mine. Possibly my father hoped I would become seriously involved with Howard and move back to Northern California after finishing my doctoral degree.
However, I did not intend to become attached to Howard beyond this summer fling. Feeling deceived by Neil, I was not ready to entrust myself to another exclusive relationship, especially not with someone I once idolized and had only a few weeks to get to know. This mindset did not stop me from enjoying every moment I spent with Howard Millbank. We did not talk about commitments or staying in touch after I returned to South Carolina, but we were very openly affectionate with each other. Howard and I walked the Citrus Heights shopping mall arm-in-arm like high school sweethearts. Whenever we were together, our bodies remained in close contact, neither of us straying from the warmth and adoration offered by the other. Neil had not been so publicly affectionate, which did not necessarily bother me. I had not been raised by a family of touchers. Devin used to hold my hand, but never draped himself over my shoulders. Holding onto Howard, I embraced a fantasy as much as a real human being.
Perhaps Howard needed to relive his adolescence as much as I did, traveling back to one of life’s points of departure where a critical decision irreparably determines the course of an individual’s future. I would have gladly gone back in time to start skating earlier, as soon as I got my first part-time job and could take more active control of my circumstances. Had I started skating at sixteen and spent a few dollars on lessons and equipment, I would have already logged ten years on the ice (or wooden floor, depending on the situation). After ten years of skating, I might have an axel and a few doubles by the age of twenty-six rather than just a tiny salchow and sloppy waltz jump. A coaching career could have been within my range of possibilities. I also would have declared a less whimsical college major and avoided this graduate school marathon. With those important decisions already logged for better or worse, I happily clung to Howard Millbank like a starry-eyed schoolgirl, and he held me just as tightly. We represented to each other a period of innocence before any mistakes had been made and life offered infinite branches of choice.
Howard helped me to forget the recent tragedies in my life and the uncertainty of my existence after graduation. I could have become lost in our romance. It filled me with joy. I skated better, looked rejuvenated and beautiful, and interacted more positively with other people. Frivolously dating Howard provided the love and comfort I needed without the inevitable expectation and disappointment. Howard seemed to feel the same way. He could not get to my house fast enough after work, though the supermarket was only a couple of miles down the road. He often called when I returned from the rink to inquire about my sit spin or some other move whose name he had memorized. I never told Howard about axels, and he did not ask if I could do one. Howard seemed as adept at what not to say as which words could make me swoon. Entranced by our idyllic time together, I briefly pondered never returning to Carolina Tech and finding a meaningless job in Sacramento so these days of ecstasy could go on forever. But I knew better than that. I had to finish that stupid degree and get away from Howard before he transformed into a jackass.
The summer climaxed with a trip to Lake Tahoe. Howard and I rested our hands on each other’s thighs as he drove up the highway into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I had not enjoyed such thrilling contact with another person since dating my first love, Jonathan, as a college freshman. We shared stimulating conversations that ranged from humorous to intellectual to deeply emotional. I eventually described my life long love of skating with Howard. He responded more sympathetically than I imagined possible. His swimming background made him the ideal sounding board from my tales of childhood heartache and subsequent commitment to adult skating. Howard did not view taking up a sport, usually predominated by children, as a fallacy; a silly waste of time that would eventually run its course when I returned to my mature senses. Instead, he praised my courage and determination.
We bonded on that Tahoe trip, as teenage girls bond by sharing secrets at a slumber party. Although friendships conceived at a sleepover might last a lifetime, or at least though public school, I still did not expect to remain in close contact with Howard after boarding a plane for the East Coast. The weekend had been one of temporary passion without consequence. When I finally said good-bye to Howard the night before returning to South Carolina, I cried pitifully in my bedroom, knowing the affair had ended. I had to face the unpleasant reality of moving my belongings out of the apartment I occupied with Neil and finding a new place to live with my unknown roommate, Gwen.
Howard had asked for my telephone number, and I truthfully explained that I would be moving as soon as I returned to Lawrence. I never told Howard about Neil, nor did I elaborate on the reason for our break-up to my father. It was simply too embarrassing. Howard insisted upon taking my campus address and phone number in Dr. Butler’s laboratory. I jotted them down on a piece of paper without realistically hoping to hear from him except possibly for a Christmas card.
“Somebody named Talbert is on the phone,” my father announced handing me the receiver. I walked down the hall and sat in my bedroom.
Chapter 37 posted 8/16/01
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