Ron could hear Gram humming in the kitchen. He sniffed appreciatively. Ah, her famous pot roast, a Sunday tradition. The kids would be home soon and it was almost time for dinner, but still Ron was reluctant to turn away from the television. Obsessed! Why did his heart take him through this hell? Ever since high school…
Knowing he would get no respite now, Ron stopped fighting, sank back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let the memories take him back, to relive it yet again.
*
Elizabeth. He was hopelessly in love with her. Beautiful, popular, always the center of attention. He watched her for months, dreamed of her endlessly, and jerked off thinking of her.
He began to dial twice that God-awful evening, and a third time heard the ringing at the other end before he slammed the receiver down. He sat for a long time before reaching for the phone once more. After four rings,
“Hello.”
“Hello,” he croaked. “Who is this?”
“Uh… it’s Ron. I wanted to ask you—”
“Ron who?”
“Conlin. Ron Conlin.”
“You’re the guy in the back of history class?”
“Uh, yeah. I wanted to … that is … um … well … uh…. Would you go to the dance with me?”
There were several moments of silence, excruciating for Ron, then some whispers and the raucous laughter of more than one girl. Ron dropped the receiver shaking with mortification.
Unable to face school, Ron played sick for several days, sat at home staring blankly at the TV, eating and eating and eating.
Salvation came through a scheduling error the next semester. Drama? No way. He asked for a change. Sorry kid, all the other classes are full. You’ll just have to tough it out.
Drama saved his life. Engrossed in acting, he became the character; left his awkward, fat self behind.
Then Linda—popular, witty, kinder. “I like you Ron, but not that way.” Nancy—honors student, cheerleader; clever avoidance of answering with light laughter. Anne—homecoming queen, staring at him disbelievingly.
Why always the most unattainable? College was better than high school, the artsy types more accepting. He was included and admired for his talent. The dancers were forever going to the gym. “Have to be strong to lift the girls, man,” his roommate Tony informed him.
Ron paused in his reminiscing to silently thank, for the millionth time at least, the gods, fate, lucky stars, or whatever the hell it was that had brought Tony into his life.
“You should workout with us,” Tony had said.
“I’ve never been. Wouldn’t know where to start.”
“No excuses buddy. Grab your sweats and get a move on. I’ll show you the ropes.”
Ron went, protesting all the way. Tony gave him some tips and left him at a universal machine. Within minutes Ron’s legs began vibrating. “Go easy Ron. I’ve been at this a while,” Tony said. “You’re in bad shape, man.” He laughed, slapped Ron on the shoulder and moved off to his next set.
By the time they were done, Ron hated the gym and everything about it, but Tony insisted he go back. To Ron’s amazement, he began to see a difference after a few weeks and, encouraged by the changes, went to the campus medical center for advice on nutrition.
With time, sweat, and serious dieting, he lost weight, and gained muscle tone and definition. Tony talked him into taking a couple of dance classes and those, along with the movement classes in his drama program, brought a grace and elegance that belied his size.
And Susan. Oh yes, Susan. The cruelest cut of them all.
Susan, student council president, smart, articulate, and challenging. She antagonized many, but still managed to win votes, largely because she had the guts to say what many wouldn’t, and because she was invariably amusing.
Ron asked her for coffee using the latest essay assignment as an excuse and soon it became their habit to go to the cafeteria or library after class and work together. After a time, it seemed natural to ask her to his place. By then he and Tony had moved out of residence and were living in a small basement suite a block from the campus. He made coffee or hot chocolate while Susan set up their books on the kitchen table. They were debating a scene in Gulliver’s Travels one day when Tony came home.
“You in love with her?” Tony asked as the door closed behind Susan.
“Why?” Ron was wary.
“There’s something about her man. Can’t quite put my finger on it. My advice. Stay away from her.”
“How can you say that? You’ve only just met her.”
“Just be careful man. Don’t want to see you hurt.” He slapped Ron on the shoulder and added, “I’m good at first impressions.”
“Tony!” Easy for him to talk, he was constantly surrounded by women. Called himself the love machine.
“Gotta go man, late for jazz class.”
Tony said no more, but if he came home and found Susan there he made excuses to leave. Susan seemed to sense the animosity and insisted that they go to her place even though it was farther from campus.
“Lord, look at the time.”
“It’s late. I should go,” Ron said.
“It is late, but you don’t have to go.” Susan smiled as she caressed his cheek.
“What do you mean?”
She turned off the lights and took his hand, pulled him up from the chair and towards her bed. “I’d like some company.” Ron, delighted at the possibilities, stood helplessly as she began to undress him. When he was stripped to nothing but his socks she undressed herself. Susan pulled him down to the bed. He felt awkward as she guided him and it was over before it began as he came with a violent shudder on the fourth thrust.
“My God, you’re a virgin.” Susan laughed. Ron was sure his whole body blushed. “Don’t worry kid. We’ve taken care of that. Now let’s really have some fun.”
In the next weeks, Ron was deliriously happy, in love and making love, almost daily. He wanted to shout his love to the world but Susan wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t let him put his arm around her in public or hold her hand.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I’ve never liked public displays.”
“But I just want to hold your hand. I like to feel you close.”
“I’m just not comfortable with it.”
“But everyone holds hands and no one thinks anything of it.”
“No.” She was adamant.
Ron was chosen for the coveted lead role in the school’s annual senior production. Each year the play was written, produced, directed, and cast solely by students. Over the years, the school had earned a respectable reputation with these productions and word had it that talent scouts from both Los Angeles and New York would attend. Ron was proud and excited, but disappointed that Susan didn’t share his enthusiasm for the production. She dismissed it as amateur, but promised to come see him opening night.
He saw little of Tony during those months and when he did, Tony’s only comment was a succinct reminder. “Be careful man.”
A few weeks later Ron and Susan were sitting at the table studying for exams.
“Sue, when exams are over let’s go to New York.”
“For a holiday?”
“Yeah.”
“Why New York? Why not somewhere closer, less expensive?”
“I’d like you to meet my parents.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Ron was flustered.
Susan looked up from her books. “Ron, this isn’t the meet the folks before the wedding thing is it?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Ron, grow up. I have a fiancé, for Christ’s sake. He’s coming home in a couple of months.”
The air filled with unbearable tension. “You’re engaged!”
“Yeah. Have been for almost a year.”
“When did you plan to tell me?” Ron’s voice cracked.
“After the play. I wanted you to have a good opening night.”
“Well, thanks so much. And, just what the hell am I?”
“I was lonely and you seemed like a nice guy.” He was too stunned and hurt to storm and rage at her, but she wouldn’t have noticed anyway as she launched into a description of the fiancé’s virtues and their marriage plans.
Ron stumbled home in the dark. For hours he did nothing but stare at the wall, thoughts of suicide swirling in his head. Tears came, then sleep when emotional exhaustion got the best of him. He crawled around campus for two days, bought a huge bottle of painkillers, took them home. Standing at the kitchen sink with a tall glass of water he took one, two, three, poured out a handful and tried to gauge how many he could swallow in one gulp, how quickly he could do this.
“Ron!” Tony called, startling him into action. He scooped the pills back into the bottle and turned to face Tony. “What are you doing man? They’re all frantic backstage waiting for you. Come on!” Tony grabbed his arm and dragged him, at a full run, across campus to the theatre.
“Thank God!” The director’s relief was palpable when he saw Ron. “We’ve got eight minutes. Get moving.”
The makeup and costume crews worked on him furiously. They muttered audibly about “temperamental actors” and “stage fright” but nothing touched him through the thick haze of his hurting.
The pain of Susan’s betrayal, of his own naivety, swirled through him and bled into his performance. He received standing ovations and rave reviews, reviews that brought him the attention of the New York agents. He burned with the irony of it and thanked whatever gods of theatre there might be that the play hadn’t been a comedy.
And now, this woman... Another fucking obsession. Ron felt helpless as he turned back to the TV.
*
“Ha. Ha. Geek! Nerd!” I called out. I loved those teens and their wacky way with words. We had nothing like it up here.
“That’s Ron,” Elspeth said, coming up behind me as I watched the Earth view.
“Yes, when he was younger, suffering teenage angst. He was such a dolt. Thank the Guardians that we don’t have that sort of nonsense up here. Loser!”
She glared at me. “Yves! Stop it. Those are derogatory Earth words, aren’t they?”
Elspeth’s words made me feel… bad somehow, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“What’s he doing now, ‘reading’ people? That's kinda cool. I didn’t know humans could do that,” Elspeth said.
“They can’t. He’s just making judgments based on his observations. He’s damn good at it though. It’s a game of his.” Made me wonder if anyone played it up here. Thought I might give it a try myself. Try it with Mentor. Ha, ha.
Elspeth settled herself on a sofa to watch the scenes with Ron’s girlfriends play out. “I don’t like this,” she said. “That Susan is a real bitch. Ron should have listened to his friend’s warning.”
I had to admit that I felt sorry for Ron, genuine sorrow, but only for the merest instant. He had no business being obsessed with Em. She was mine.