The Misogynist Ch. 08

He reached out with his hand and touched her arm. She felt another quiver of electricity. "Good knowing you're here."

'Yes I'm here."

He drifted off back to whatever state of mind he was in, asleep or partly comatose she couldn't tell.

She watched him with a forlorn sense of futility, a feeling of impending loss. She could have loved him. If he had been first there was no telling where things might have ended up. He was and had everything a woman wanted, but. There was always that but. Oh why do things always have to be that way?

Around 9:00 that Monday morning Martin seemed alert enough to comprehend what was going on. Cheryl reminded him about her room, told him she had to go to school, but she'd be back.

Martin told her to do what she needed, but go home and get some rest. If she called from time to time he'd be happy. He told her again how much he loved her, and how much he worried about her.

Cheryl didn't reciprocate the love note, but she agreed to call, and she agreed she needed some rest. True to her word she called twice from school, and once more when she got home. She promised to try to stop by after her first day and look in on him.

Martin told her she needed to take care of herself first. Calling to check was good enough.

Later that same morning after leaving Martin at the hospital Cheryl pulled her car into the school parking lot. It was just a little after 11:00, and she hadn't gone home yet. She opted to get her room unpacked and the majority of her posters up, and then return home for a nice shower and good nights rest. The school doors were open. Several other teachers were also taking advantage of the last day before the students arrived.

The first person she saw was Allyn. She hadn't seen him since June. He'd been to Bolivia working with Habitat for Humanity. He looked like a Greek God. Hair, already sandy, was bleached from the sun, hearty tan, not an ounce of fat to be seen. He was wearing a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts, a light blue polo shirt, tennis shoes without socks, and neck adorned with a thin strand of cowry shells. He was the embodiment of good health and right living. Like Martin he was every woman's idea of what a man should be, but without the baggage. She waved down the hall.

Allyn saw Cheryl and waved back. He was talking to one of the younger female teachers. Watching Cheryl go in her room he thought she looked different. Bidding adieu to the young lady he wandered on down to Cheryl's. "Good morning! How was your summer?"

Cheryl smiled back. "Busy and eventful how was yours?"

"Busy." He replied. "What happened to your hand?"

Cheryl gave him an abbreviated and greatly altered version of the truth.

He watched her while she talked. He was amazed at the physical changes the summer had wrought. She was certainly thinner, but she looked more mature. She'd reminded him of a plain Jane at the end of the year. Now he was looking at ravishing vixen. He was getting aroused just watching her. He thought she looked tired too. "You look marvelous Cheryl."

Cheryl was flattered. She realized she liked being complimented by this man. She knew him as one of the good guys, a man a woman would be proud to be seen with. "Thank you Allyn."

Allyn saw Cheryl wince as she tried to pull posters from the cabinet. "Here let me help." He stepped in and took over the poster pile. "Tell me where you want them."

"Oh no." Cheryl responded. "You have your own chores."

"Nonsense you need help."

Cheryl was doubly flattered. What a gentleman she thought. She sat down and allowed him to place, staple, and thumb tack the posters in the places she indicated. She liked looking at his thin muscular legs, his lithe lean torso, and his strong arms and hands. He was so handsome. He looked so different from the painfully weak man she'd recently left at the hospital.

The two of them talked and flirted for hours. Cheryl was delighted by the attention. He said the kindest most thoughtful things. She could tell, though he admired her body, he was more interested in her mind. She imagined herself at home with him, both of them grading papers together, or discussing the special needs of some child. She and Allyn had so much in common. She thought about the man in the hospital. She cared about him, but she had so much more in common with Allyn.

Allyn was glad to help, and even more glad to be first in with this beautiful woman. He reflected on the sweet young Latina he'd promised to marry back in Bolivia. That was never going to happen. And now that he'd broken things off with the young teacher down the hall he could take this one out. He looked Cheryl over. She'd be a real prize.

Cheryl called Martin late that evening. He seemed to be doing well. He said he missed her terribly, and he loved her. She knew how he felt, he wouldn't stop telling her, but she wasn't committing herself again until she was absolutely sure especially as it related to Martin. He might be the one, but he was a constant reminder of somebody else, somebody she wanted to forget. Then there was Allyn. He was new, honest, clean, and apparently available. She reflected on Allyn. He certainly had it all, and without any baggage.

Over those first four days of school Martin was confined to a bed in the hospital. They'd done a second round of tests and decided to keep him around another night or two. Cheryl was so exhausted after each day's work she just couldn't get up the energy to make it over to see him. She called every night. He told her how much he cared. She gave him what assurances she could.

Meanwhile Allyn had become such a help. He was her strong right hand. Each day during school hours he made a special point of visiting Cheryl's room at least twice maybe three times. They ate lunch together, and after school he insisted on walking her to her car. He poured on the charm.

Cheryl was flattered. She felt privileged. Around the school Allyn was Mr. Everything to everybody. Half the unmarried staff mooned over him, and yet he was devoting all his attention to her. When he asked her out she could hardly refuse.

Martin's recovery wasn't smooth. The head injury was worse than the doctor's at first thought. He kept having almost unbelievable headaches. Some were so bad as to be blinding. Then there were prolonged period of ennui. He'd get in a funk, become disoriented, and lose his sense of time and place. Dizziness was a constant problem. Still the doctors couldn't explain the cause. They attributed his difficulties to the force of the blow, and the extended time he'd need to recover. Eventually they released him into Cheryl's care. She took him to her apartment and set him up in her bed, while she took command of the sofa.

His first days at her apartment were uneventful. He spent most of his time sleeping. Bathing was a problem. He'd frequently lose his balance, and required Cheryl's help regaining his equilibrium. His headaches affected his emotional aplomb, and on a few occasions when Cheryl was talking he'd lose his cool and verbally lash out. He didn't mean to, his head just hurt so much.

About the middle of his second week at Cheryl's she had made the decision to go out with Allyn. Martin noticed her getting all dressed up. "Are you going out tonight?" He asked.

Cheryl had been careful about what she'd said to Martin the entire time he'd been with her, and even though Martin repeatedly reasserted his affection she'd assiduously avoided any terms of endearment. "Yes you remember I mentioned Allyn?'

Martin's senses went on full alert. "Oh you mean the Peace Corps guy?"

"Habitat for Humanity."

"You're going out with him?"

"Yes, he invited me to dinner and then to a play."

Martin flushed. "That's nice."

Cheryl saw the look and understood. "You'll like him Martin. He's coming up to get me in a just a little while."

"I'm sure I will."

Neither Martin nor Cheryl said anything else. Cheryl was glad. She didn't want to start anything. Martin didn't either. He knew he hadn't been the best company lately, and he knew he'd never be able to stand up to the competition, and competition it surely was, in his current state.

He was stuck. He loved her so deeply, but he understood love can command but never force obedience. If she wanted someone else, someone who did the same things she liked and wasn't a reminder of bad things from her past, then he was the odd man out. He loved her. He loved her so much, too much even. They said love is blind. He understood how it could blind a person's reason. If he didn't care half so much he'd be able to negotiate the treacherous waters of attraction and rejection, but he did care, and he cared too much. When he should have been flattering he was demanding, when he should have been smooth he was abrasive. He couldn't help himself. She just took his breath away.

His desperation must have been apparent. If he lost her it would kill him. But he loved her too much to try to put her in a cage.

While Cheryl got ready Martin did the best he could to become as presentable as possible. He got on a pair of levis, a Tee-shirt, and some sneakers. He'd face the truth standing up. It would be what it was going to be. He was afraid. Dreadfully afraid, but he had to face the facts, whatever they may be. He had to face Allyn. He kept reminding himself, before he was a moonstruck love sick headache driven cripple, he was a man. Not much of a man maybe, but still a man. He'd take what life handed out.

Allyn arrived, and he looked just like the Adonis she'd described. Wearing a magnificently tailored dark gray pinstriped suit, black wing tipped shoes, and carrying an umbrella, he was every bit the dapper man about the town. It was like looking at someone he'd known nearly all his life. It was just like looking at Turner. He wondered if Cheryl noticed any similarity.

Cheryl came out attired in a beautiful dark blue dress. It had a low cut V-neck, short sleeves, and the hem came just slightly below mid-thigh. It had a tightly tailored waist, and a hint of ruffle around the collar and sleeves. She looked absolutely ravishing. Her dark heels and dark nylons accentuated her taut legs. Hair up in a bun, gold-dangling earrings, and the wristwatch Martin had gotten her. Her make up was perfect. Martin's stomach turned. He was afraid he was going to throw up. She was so beautiful, going out with another man, and leaving him here. Was there anything worse that could happen he wondered.

Cheryl introduced Martin to Allyn, a subtle message as to who took precedence. Allyn spoke, and then took her arm. Together the two of them left. They left Martin all alone in Cheryl's apartment.

Allyn took Cheryl out and they had a wonderful time. He was the consummate gentleman. He did everything right. Cheryl felt like the belle of the ball. After their date he took her home, and they kissed just outside the apartment complex. Martin watched discreetly from a slightly opened curtain. She let the other man kiss her. It killed him.

For the next several days Martin made a pointed effort to avoid any conflict with Cheryl. In fact he avoided talking at all. When she was home from work he stayed in her bedroom. They ate their dinners in silence. Cheryl was glad Martin hadn't caused a scene. And she was even happier that he'd made no attempt to inquire after what she and Allyn had done.

Martin knew the jig was just about up. She had moved on. He was a part of her past, a fifth wheel, an albatross. It was getting close to decision time. After Allyn took Cheryl out a second time he knew it was time to disappear.

The evening after her second date with Allyn Martin asked if they could talk. Cheryl wasn't excited about having any conversations with Martin because she knew where it would probably end up. She agreed though, believing she owed him that much.

He asked her how she felt about him and things in general.

She tried to explain her sense of gratitude, but her gratitude shouldn't be misinterpreted. She cared deeply about him, but she didn't love him. The way she said it was that she loved him but wasn't in love with him. It was a scary thing for her to say. She wasn't sure if it was true, and she was afraid how he might take it. But his response was sobering. She remembered later the expression on his face, and the things he said.

His expression was one of almost unendurable pain. She'd never seen such agony, but it was a controlled misery. He never, not once begged or pleaded with her. He'd looked at her and told her he still loved her, but he understood he couldn't make her love him if it wasn't in the cards. He told her he wanted her to have what she wanted for herself. He told her he didn't particularly like Allyn, but that wasn't his call either. If she loved Allyn and wanted him, then Martin was sure he'd be good for her. He didn't want to cause any trouble.

That had been the end of it. Martin never put up a fight. He never begged, never pleaded, he didn't, not once get mad and yell. He seemed fatalistic about the whole affair. When they said good night, with him returning to her bedroom and her going back to the couch she almost wished he had put up something of a fight.

The next morning right after Cheryl left for work Martin got his things together. There wasn't all that much to collect, just a pair of shoes, some old socks, a couple pairs of pants and a shirt or two. The razor, soaps, deodorants had all been hers. He threw everything into a plastic bag, and called a cab. He decided not to bother with a note. No post mortems he decided, that would be like whining. He'd go down with his head held up. The taxi took him to where he'd last left his car outside and just down the street from Turner's. Luckily no one had bothered it. He got in, started it up, and drove off. He had to get home. He had a business to salvage, a house to clean up, and a life to get back in order. He thought he could fix the first, certainly take care of the second. The third he wasn't so sure of.

When Cheryl got home that first night she saw Martin was gone. Everything he owned had vanished. The apartment was clean, immaculate. He left everything exactly where she liked things to be. Checking the bedroom she saw the bed had been remade, the dirty sheets had been cleaned, folded and put away. Even the towels he'd last used had been washed, folded and put away. The toothbrush he'd used was gone, and in place of the partially empty toothpaste they'd been sharing a brand new tube rested. She checked the refrigerator. Martin had liked certain types of lunch meats and other types of drinks and salad dressings, mostly things she didn't like. She saw everything he liked was gone, and had been replaced by things she preferred. Everything everywhere was exactly how it had been the day before he'd come. It was like he had never been there, like he'd never existed.

At first she thought she should call. She had his cell number, but then thought better of it. He probably expected a call. He was probably jealous and this was some kind of temper tantrum, some kind of manipulative trick to get her to feel guilty. Well she didn't feel guilty. He'd participated in a mean trick, and then he'd made up for it and helped rescue her, but she'd saved his life and then helped with his recuperation. They were even, even Steven. He was right to leave. Now she could devote more time to her work, her career, and enjoy Allyn without having to wonder or worry about somebody else. It was like it was June all over again. She was fresh and clean, no sordid tricks, no being manipulated. He was gone, and she could start over. She could start over with Allyn.

Her last thoughts on the matter were if Martin wanted anything he could call her. But he never did.

For Martin the drive back home was long and lonely, but he made it. The left over breakfast foods were still out on the table, just where they'd left them weeks ago. Only when he saw them now they were dried and rotted. Flies had planted their eggs, maggots had been born, eaten the meat, and spawned into new flies. He took all the plates, the pots and pans, the silverware, and threw them all out. The shirt that she'd last had on that morning so long ago, and the boxers were still on the bed she'd slept in. He threw them out too. He remade the bed, changed the sheets and threw them out. They still had her scent. That was something he couldn't bear. He wanted to go fishing, but he knew he had to get back to work. He started making phone calls. Maybe it wasn't 'too late to save the business.

For Cheryl the next few days grew into weeks. She found herself caught up in another whirlwind romance. Allyn took her everywhere, saw to her every need, and satisfied her every whim. She was attended to, coddled, and spoiled. She hadn't felt this special, this necessary, and this important since early in the summer. For some reason she knew it couldn't last, but when it did come to an end it came in a completely unexpected manner.

Allyn had been such a gentleman on every date. He never tried to take liberties, and he seldom made an effort to do any serious kissing. There had been the occasional attempt to put his hand down to her breasts, but she'd skillfully moved them away. There had never been any protests. He was nothing like the lascivious Turner trying to have sex constantly only to go to sleep afterward. And he was nothing like the almost juvenile Martin whose greatest passion seemed to have been in making proclamations of love, though she admitted to herself she never left him an opening much beyond that. So when Allyn revealed his truer, baser, nature, she was taken by surprise.

It had occurred on an evening when everything had gone quite well. She remembered feeling extra romantic. They'd gone out to eat. Then he'd taken her to another show. Allyn loved the theater, as did she. It was always such a delightful time. Often after the theater they would stop off at one of the many late night clubs to get a sandwich and perhaps a late night libation and discuss the finer points of the performance. These were always special times for her.

Then on this one occasion they stopped at a night spot he'd never taken her to before. She thought standing outside it looked a little more raucous than most of the places he liked, so when he suggested they go in she was a little put off.

When they went in everything seemed fine, at least at first. But after his one martini and her customary white wine, he suggested they imbibe something a little stronger. From out of nowhere he produced a small packet of what she immediately recognized from a class she took as being cocaine. He ladled out a line of the white power on the table and whiffed it up his nose. Then he laid out a second line and offered it to her. Of course she declined, but he was insistent. She resisted. She had no intention of putting something in her body she knew was dangerous. He took the second line of white powder himself. Then he laid out still another line and demanded again that she try it. He even got a little belligerent. She asked why he thought she needed that stuff.

That's when she could tell the powder was taking control. He got nasty. He accused her of being frigid. He said he'd been nice to her for nearly a month, but every time he tried to get close she got cold. He accused her of not trusting him, that cocaine was a harmless drug and would only make her feel better. He said it would loosen her up, make her feel more lovable.

The things he said were numbing. She didn't think she was frigid, and she couldn't remember him making any serious advances. What was she supposed to just fall head over heels in love and jump in the sack because he was personable and considerate? She didn't want to use some chemical to loosen herself up. She was loose enough. And what was it about the trust thing? Trust! She'd heard that one before! She'd trusted one man and paid for it dearly. She wasn't going down that road again. She just wasn't going there. That's when it occurred to her. There was only one man she'd grown to trust, and she'd sent him away!