Chasing the Bear

Chapter 29

"No surprise there," Susan said. "A young woman with an abusive absentee father whose mother feels a woman is incomplete without a man."

"I was a little surprised at the time," I said.

"You were fourteen," Susan said.

"I was," I said.

The sun was now entirely behind the low buildings in the Back Bay, and the people walking past us in the Public Garden looked like people going home from work.

"So here she is kidnapped by her brute of a father and the handsome young Galahad comes galloping"—Susan smiled—"or in this case, mostly drifting downriver and saves her."

"My strength was as the strength of ten," I said. "Because my heart was pure."

"Sure it was," Susan said. "And then you defend her honor from a local bully."

"It was probably mostly about my own honor," I said.

"Probably," Susan said. "But she almost had to fall in love with you."

"Or what she thought was love."

"Shrinks call it cathexis," Susan said.

"Cathexis?"

"A powerful emotional investment in something or someone, which in fourteen-year-old girl terms feels like love, but probably isn't."

"You were once a fourteen-year-old girl," I said. "Did you do a lot of cathexis?"

"Several times a year," Susan said. "But I was, of course, always waiting for the one."

"Are you making sport of my obsession?" I said.

"I am," Susan said. "How did it work out after that night?"

"Not too well," I said. "She always sat beside me in study hall. She wanted to hold my hand if we walked anyplace. She started talking all the time about us."

"And that wasn't what you wanted."

"No. She was a friend, but not the only one. Sometimes I wanted to play ball or hang with the guys."

"Did you tell her this?" Susan said.

"Yes."

"How did you break it to her?" Susan said.

"I told her about what I just told you," I said. "That she was a friend, but not my only friend. And, you know, we didn't have an exclusive contract."

"How did she take it?"

"She cried," I said.

Susan nodded.

"I remember so clearly. It was raining like hell, and a lot of wind, and we were standing under the marquee of the Main Street Movie Theater to stay dry. She cried for a little bit, and I felt I had to put my arm round her shoulders, at least. And she shook it off, and took in a big deep breath, and said, ‘No. I'm okay.' And I said, ‘You're sure?' and she said, ‘I can wait.' And I didn't say anything. And she said, ‘But I have to walk. You have to walk with me.' And I said, ‘Okay.' And we walked for about an hour in a driving rain. And when we finally went to her house, she turned around and put her head against my chest and said, ‘It's okay. I'll be fine. But I'm not giving up.' Then she gave me a little kiss on the lips and went into her house."

"How was it next day?" Susan said.

"Fine," I said. "She stayed my friend. I'm sure she was waiting to be more. But she never pressed it again."

"Good for her," Susan said.

"Good for both of us."