Eureka Man: A Novel (20 page)

“Haven't I seen you on campus before?” he
asked her the second month she entered his gate. “I could swear
I've seen you on Fifth Avenue.”

“It's possible,” she answered. “But my office
is on Forbes.”

“Maybe that's where I saw you.”

“Do you attend the university?” she
asked.

“No. Not me. I go over there once in a while
just to walk around and take in the scenery. I've been all through
the Cathedral of Learning. That's some building.”

“Isn't the architecture breathtaking? I often
teach my classes in the Early American room.”

“Maybe we'll run into each other over there
one day,” he said.

“Maybe,” she answered. “You never know.”

Several months later he was checking her tote
bag one evening when he brought up the subject of her car. “I sure
do like that sweet little Mazda you drive. I'm thinking about
getting one myself. I imagine it gets good mileage.”

“Oh yes,” she said, steadying her eyes on
his, smiling genuinely. “Much better than that gas guzzler my
husband drives. An Imperial.”

She saw him staring at the finger where her
wedding band should have been.

“I didn't know you were married.”

“Well, sometimes I have to remind myself of
that very fact. I've been married for thirty years.” She laughed.
He laughed harder. She slid her hip to the side as she reached for
her bags. Waving the fingers of her left hand at him, she said, “I
take off my rings at night when I bathe. If I don't they slide off
my fingers. Plumbers are expensive, you know?”

“Your husband's a lucky man,” Wayne St.
Pierre said. “You're a very attractive lady.”

“Why thank you.” She hooked her tote bag over
her shoulder. “You have a nice evening, Officer St. Pierre.”

“Call me Wayne.”

“Okay, Wayne. Call me B.J.”

The next time she came he said, “How are you
this evening, B.J.? Nice dress.”

She was wearing a burgundy dress with a
two-inch wide patent leather belt that accentuated her shapely hips
and flat stomach. She wore black high heels.

“Thank you, Wayne.”

He looked at her left hand, now a ritual. No
rings. “You look stunning in it, woman. But you'd look that way if
you were dressed in a burlap sack.”

She laughed.

“You ever been boating, B.J.?”

“Years ago. My brother Mickey had a speedboat
he kept docked at a North Side pier right up the street from here.
Back in the early seventies. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just bought a new boat myself. I'd
love to take you out for a ride sometime.”

She looked at him regretfully. “That's sweet,
Wayne, but I really can't.”

He leaned into her. “Let me tell you a
secret. I'm married too.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and
grinned.

“Oh.” She acted surprised. “It's nice of you
to offer, but I can't. I really can't. I'm old-fashioned, Wayne.
But I'm flattered, I really am.”

“Well, you can't blame a man for trying.” He
smiled lightly at her.

For two years she placated his ego with her
friendly gestures and innocent flirtations. Her singular goal had
been to instill within him the notion that things might have been
different between them if it weren't for the fact that she was
happily married. And she thought he believed her. She had bought
him issues of Boating Illustrated and homemade jars of honey she
purchased for him in the Amish country. She had single-handedly
milked the venom right out of this rattlesnake.

Or so she thought.

Six months into her third year she stood at
the counter waiting for him to check her bags. She looked as
glamorous as ever, but there was no greeting, not even the
slightest eye contact.

“Here to tutor that lifer again?” he said,
removing the contents from her bag. Books. Tablets. Pens.

She didn't know what to say. A moment of
silence and he added, “I don't know why you professors waste your
time. Those lifers are never getting out, you know? This new
governor is putting a stop to that.”

She was shocked. “Well, Wayne. His mind can
certainly be free. And he is making a genuine contribution to
society. He's writing a book, too, you know?”

He moved his finger like a windshield wiper.
“You're not allowed to take anything that belongs to him out of
this institution. That's against policy. No legal documents, no
letters, no manuscripts.”

“I understand. But I am allowed to take his
class assignments with me. I have since I started. How else can I
evaluate his work?”

“They need to be inspected each time.”

“I'm confused, Wayne. What's going on?”

He looked at her for the first time that
evening. “Well, Dr. Dallet, you may not know this, but those lifers
are dangerous criminals. We know their angles.”

AND SHE KNEW HIS. No way was a disgruntled prurient
going to distract her from savoring the whipped cream that had been
missing from her bowl-of-cherries life for so long. Now that she
had someone who was, all in one, a protege, friend, confidante,
playmate and simply there, she gloated to her boon companions,
Shirley and Alice, who had been hearing about Oliver's intellectual
prowess for two years now. They had been more than impressed. Now,
when she told them about the love affair they were having and that
he was twenty-five years her junior, their mouths dropped open so
wide you could have fit a peach inside.

Shirley, who was a plump fifty and having an
affair of her own with a younger man, said, “My God, he's
practically a baby.”

“He's no baby, honey!” B.J. said. “He's a
stud.”

Alice added, “Just think, B.J., all these
years you've been sweating in the spa to keep your tummy flat and
your muscles toned and now look at you! You're beaming like a
schoolgirl. Can you keep up with him?”

“Hardly, girlfriend. I have love bites in
places you wouldn't imagine.”

Alice and Shirley wanted to know every detail
of the first time they had made love.

“Let me be clear. He didn't make the first
move until long after we had acquired a great mutual admiration for
one another,” she said. “And long after he had finished his courses
I was responsible for teaching him.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Well, one evening while we were sitting
together in his office having a discussion about what I don't
recall, I felt his calf rested against mine. I didn't think
anything of it except that it felt familiar, you know? As warm as
toast. Anyway, I was sure he was testing the waters when he moved
his leg away and then pressed it even closer back against mine. I
didn't move a muscle. I went right on talking. Then he did the
sweetest thing. He slid a note in front of me that said, 'I'm dying
for you to hold me in your arms.'”

“No, he didn't! What a risk taker,” Shirley
said.

“He has his own office?” Alice asked. “What
kind of prison is that?”

“Yes, he did. And Alice, you wouldn't believe
the place. On the outside it's a fortress. On the inside it looks
just like any other education department, nothing but classrooms
and offices. And wait until you hear this. There's only one guard
in the entire education building and he stays downstairs manning
the door. Oliver has his own classroom and his own office because
he's a gifted teacher and worker.”

“One guard? You're kidding!” said Alice.
“Okay! Go on!”

“So he slid this note in front of me, and I
scribbled 'go for it!' on the bottom and slid it back to him.
That's how it all started.”

“What happened after you held him, hon?”
asked Shirley. “Did you rock him to sleep?”

“You did hold him, didn't you?” asked
Alice.

“We held each other. And then we squeezed
each other a little tighter until I could feel his prick throbbing
against my thigh. He had his long arms wrapped around my waist and
without saying a word we looked into each other's eyes and he
kissed me. He kissed me like I've never been kissed before. It was
so gentle and so passionate. Then he stopped and I was
terrified.”

“Well, don't stop there, girlfriend! What did
he do that terrified you?”

“He picked me up and sat me on the edge of
his desk. Oh, God, the intensity in those green eyes of his,
coupled with that strange environment and my lack of experience,
you know, frightened the living hell out of me. Then he told me to
lie across the desk and when I did, he went under my skirt and slid
my hose and panties off my waist. Well, I almost wet myself. I
don't have to tell either of you how long it had been since I'd had
a man between my legs. My whole body turned to jelly. I couldn't
have stopped him if I'd wanted to. And then, when he got on his
knees and became my very own Valentino, I wasn't afraid any
more.”

“I guess you weren't, honey. That's the most
romantic thing I have ever heard,” said Shirley. “You are one lucky
lady. My lover hasn't discovered what his knees are for yet.”

“That man-child of hers is the one who's
lucky!” said Alice.

Of course they wanted to know all there was
to know so she told them more. How every Saturday morning since
their affair began she had gone on shopping sprees for new
lingerie. She now owned silk panties and garters in just about
every color under the rainbow. Dozens of pairs of thigh-high
stockings, lace bras that opened in the front and teddies she
couldn't wear any more because he had destroyed the hooks trying to
open them. She told them how nefariously thrilling it felt to walk
through the front gate of a maximum security prison every week
dressed in Victoria's Secret and black velvet high heels, only to
be waved through by a guard who had befriended her the first time
she came; how her anus puckered up every time she strolled across
the courtyard filled with muscle bound men and into the private
office of her handsome young murderer, all the while thinking that
the volume of her heart was up way too loud.

There were plenty of things she didn't tell
them, too. Like how delicious and exciting it was to make love in a
dark room right next to a window where even on the darkest nights
she could lean her head back and see, just fifty feet away, the
armed guard pacing inside his red gun tower. And how being with him
once, sometimes twice, a week now just wasn't enough. She was
touching herself every time she found a private moment. In the
ladies' room. At the water fountain. Sitting at her desk. She was
fifty-five doing a thirty year old man who had been incarcerated
since he was a boy. That was enough to make any woman twitch and
look out the window every morning. He had awakened cravings in her
that were equal to his own and his were endless. Not only did she
want him; she needed him.

And the beauty of it all was that he was easy
to love. She lined up his professors, he impressed them with his
hard work. She lived for the hours she could be with him each week,
he made it all worthwhile when she got there. And on only two
occasions did she ever have to reprimand him. Once when he was
feasting on her nipples, he looked up and whispered, “Does that
feel good, Mommy?” She didn't interrupt their lovemaking, but later
told him she wasn't his mother and please don't call her that
again. He was hypersensitive to begin with and his feelings were
naturally hurt. He knew what she was thinking, he said, but he
didn't mean anything like that. She assured him everything was
okay. The second time was when he had tried to penetrate her anus.
Like trying to push a flashlight through a keyhole. It was just too
painful.

But it wasn't just the way he had brought to
life nerve endings she didn't know she had that compelled her to
love him. The pure youthful innocence he exuded was both genuine
and contagious. He was full of love and mischief when he laughed
and teased her and that too filled her with happiness. Every time
she thought of him her heart pounded like a drum. He made her feel
seventeen again.

“You truly are the luckiest girl in the
world, B.J., honey!” Shirley said.

“I suppose she is,” said Alice. “But what
about him? He would be twiddling his thumbs if it weren't for her.
He has it all. He has his cake, and he's eating it too.”

OLIVER KNEW THE DAY
was going to be prosperous
when the one person he loved more than anyone in the world showed
up to see him before the visiting room guard had gotten comfortable
in his seat. June Priddy got to him before he could hand his pass
to the guard and turn around. “There you are!” she said, spreading
her arms. He entered them for a long, swaying hug. When he let go,
he handed his pass to the guard and turned to gaze at his mother.
“Look at you!” June said. “You get more handsome by the day.
Oliver, this is my husband Joe, Joe Michael.”

“Hello, Oliver. It's nice to finally meet
you,” the man said. “I'm sorry we haven't made it up to see you
sooner.”

“That's okay. How're you doing, Joe?” Oliver
smiled at the handsome man, thinking that he looked more like a
professional golfer than a television producer. His golden hair and
deep tan reminded Oliver of Jack Nicholas.

Oliver hugged his sister Anna and then said,
“Come here, kid!” He bear hugged his younger brother Huck and when
he let go, he tousled Huck's neatly combed hair. Huck wrestled to
remove Oliver's hand and smiled impishly. “Ollie, you want
anything?” Huck asked before they sat down. “A soda? Something to
eat?” Oliver said no.

“First things first,” June said. “We can't
stay long. Joe goes back to work tomorrow. We've been traveling
through New England for two straight weeks. Skip couldn't come this
time. He had to work.” She paused and smiled uncomfortably before
she went on. “Now, Oliver, I hate to put you through this.” Her
glance swept across her two boys and Anna.

“Oh, Momma. I'll tell him. Oliver, we talked
to your lawyer,” said Anna. “The news isn't good. He said the
timing couldn't be worse. Apparently, you haven't served enough
time yet and on top of that, he said the new governor doesn't
believe in parole for lifers. You may have to wait up to eight more
years to apply for your pardon.” Anna moved to the edge of her
chair and cleaned her fingernails of Fritos dust. Oliver put his
arm around his mother's shoulder.