Destiny

"What impression would that be, John?" Helen asked. She looked at him as impassively as she could.

John cleared his throat again, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stared at the table top. "I'm sorry I used you. I didn't mean to. It's just that, well, things kind of built up." He looked at her deeply. "A lot of things."

Helen was confused. "Used me?" she asked. "Whatever are you talking about?"

John grimaced. "You know," he shrugged, as he looked around the restaurant, "the sex and stuff."

Helen slowly shook her head. "John, there were a lot of things that happened that night, but I can guarantee you that you using me wasn't one of them. How can you even think that? I wanted, no, I needed what you gave me. I'm grateful that you spent the time with me." She looked down at the table and said softly, "It was the most caring moment I have ever spent with a man. Ever." She looked into his eyes and said, "How can you not know that? Just exactly what kind of idiot are you, John?"

Then a light bulb went off for Helen. "John," she asked, "are you upset because you felt it was just sex? Is that what's bothering you?"

John's face fell. "Was that all it was for you, Helen, just sex?"

She shook her head. "No, John, that's not all it was for me. I'll admit I hadn't had much excitement in a while and I sorely needed what you gave me. But it was more than just sex for me. I'm not into meaningless sex, although if you are, there's nothing wrong with that," she added quickly. "But for me, well, I felt a connection." She played with her napkin. "I was hoping you did, too," she shrugged. "It's okay if you didn't. Not everyone feels the same way about everything, you know."

John sighed and rubbed his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Helen," he said. He cursed himself. "Damn it," he spit out, "I'm really fucking this up. Shit." John sat there, looking at her. He took a deep breath and started again.

"What I mean," John said, "is I wasn't doing what I did for you, I was doing it for me. It's been a while since I was in a position to enjoy a woman the way I wanted to, the way I did with you." His eyes took on an almost pleading look. "I'm sorry, but I have to admit that everything I did was for me. I wasn't really concentrating on you and your feelings." He looked down at the table and spoke softly. "I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head.

Helen frowned. "John," she commanded, "look at me. Go ahead, look at me." John raised his head and looked at her. "John, that was a fantastic night for me. Perhaps you weren't doing things for me, perhaps you were doing things just for yourself, but that's how all this works. If you do something that feels good to you, it will almost certainly feel good to me. Remember the touching thing we talked about, how the pressure you use is what feels good to you? Well, all this stuff pretty much works the same way. As long as you're in the right spot, it'll feel good to both of us."

John still looked ashamed. "I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but I'm embarrassed I was so selfish. I've never done that before and it just didn't feel right." Helen raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, okay," John said, smiling a bit, "it felt great. But psychologically, it doesn't feel right." He threw up his hands. "I guess I'm just confused."

"I guess you are," Helen said. "It's okay to do things for yourself sometimes. You know better than I what you want and what you need. Perhaps more communication would help things out. Maybe next time we can work on that." Helen paused. "Will there be a next time, John?"

John gave her a sheepish smile. "According to you, I have no choice."

"That's right," Helen smiled, "you have no choice." The smile disappeared, replaced with a serious look. "We think that we're making decisions, and we're not, not really. We react to a situation based on our experience and programming. We can't help it. More importantly, since we don't really make choices, our future is already written. There's some randomness in nature, like radioactivity and something called 'tunneling', but not much. John, you and I and everyone else in the world are living our lives, finding out what the story is. The story has already been written, we just don't know what it is. Life is finding out what's going to happen next. Once I realized that, I realized we shouldn't fear the future, we should be curious about it. We can't change it, so there's no point in worrying about it. All we can do is find out about it."

John thought about that for a moment. "I don't know," he said slowly, "I'm having a hard time believing I don't have control of my future. It feels like I can decide, at any moment, to do something completely out of character, for example. Maybe turn right instead of left, choose a different laundry detergent, stuff like that. It's hard to believe that I don't have at least some level of control."

"Okay," Helen said, "let me ask you this. Do you agree that the brain is a bunch of cells that undergo chemical and physical change and that's how we store memories and react to external events?"

"I'm having trouble accepting that, but only because I know where it's going," John replied. "But I have to admit that your theory sounds right."

Helen laughed. "Nice of you to give me credit, but it's not really just my theory. There are plenty of scientists who think the same way." She smiled at him. "Now, if the brain is a bunch of chemical and physical reactions, can you think of any way that you can change those reactions in your brain without using other chemical reactions in your brain? That is, is it possible that something that is not part of the chemical reactions in your brain is changing the chemical reactions somehow? When you make a decision, are you using something in your brain to alter the chemical reactions to come up with the decision? Something that isn't itself a chemical reaction?"

John frowned as he thought about that. He shook his head. "I admit I can't think of how that can happen. According to you, a thinking brain is just a bunch of chemical reactions and nothing more. If that's so, there is no way that the chemical reactions can go but the way physics and chemistry say they will." John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But that means I have no control." John paused. "I'm not sure I like that much."

Helen laughed. "Then, by all means, change it." She gave John an impish smile. "More power to you if you can do it. And kudos to you if you can prove you're doing it."

Just then, Gianni came over with the drinks. "A Cosmo for the lady," he said, setting Helen's drink and front of her, "and a Sinatra special for the gentleman."

"Thanks, Gianni," John said.

Gianni's eyes got big and his smile was even bigger. "Paisano! Grazie! I haven't heard my name pronounced correctly for years. Grazie! Grazie!" Gianni walked off, smiling.

"Boy," John whispered, "that's a low threshold. Is that all it takes to make someone happy?"

Helen giggled. "It's a small town, John. All it takes is small things." Helen stared off into the distance for a while. "In fact, that's all it takes anywhere. It's just that big city folks don't realize that." She shrugged. "What a shame."

They nursed their drinks for a while in silence. Gianni returned and they decided to get dinner. It was excellent, of course; Helen was right that it wasn't possible to order a bad meal at Vittorio's.

The evening ended with a simple kiss in the parking lot of Vittorio's. Helen had been hoping for more, but John didn't seem to be in the mood. He said he had to think about things, but he promised he'd call her later.

And he did. It took a couple of days, but he called. They chatted about this and that, but nothing of what they had discussed at the restaurant. John offered to take Helen to the movies, but she said she wasn't really interested in what was showing. She suggested making dinner for him. He agreed. Saturday night was to be the night.

_________________________

Saturday morning, Helen took a trip to the grocery store. Sam greeted her in his usual way. Helen picked up the things she needed, greens for a salad, some asparagus, a couple of slabs of sirloin, and some flour. She took her items over to Sam to pay for all of it.

"Hmm," Sam said, eying the steaks and licking his lips, "can I come over for dinner?"

Helen laughed. "Sorry, Sam," she said, "not this time."

Sam nodded knowingly. "Ah, you have a visitor tonight. I quite understand. He's quite a catch. Good in bed, from what I hear."

"Sam!" exclaimed Helen. "I can't believe you said that!" She paused, then smiled. "Yeah, he's pretty good. Hard to get through to, though."

Sam nodded. "Not surprised, what with the shooting and all. That's got to hit a man pretty hard."

Helen frowned. "How did you know about that?" she asked.

Sam laughed. "Common knowledge," he said, "just like the pimple on his butt. It's a small town, Helen, in case you hadn't noticed."

Helen shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, pretty small. Still, pretty nice, too."

Sam smiled back. "We like it." He winked at her. "Let me know how the evening goes," he said. "Oh, and maybe tell me about the morning, too. Make sure you make him waffles."

"Sam," Helen laughed, "you are incorrigible."

"Well," Sam said, "maybe I would be if I knew what that meant."

"Goodbye, Sam," Helen said as she walked out of the store.

_________________________

The evening came slowly, as Helen expected. Einstein was right; there is time dilation. Time slows down when you're waiting for something. But 5:30 eventually showed up and, right on cue, John knocked at the front door. Helen greeted him in her apron.

"Come in, sir," Helen curtsied and gestured toward the living room. "Dinner will be ready in a few hours."

"A few hours?" John asked, walking over to the couch.

"Good things take a while," Helen explained. "We're having steak tonight and it takes a few hours to cook."

John looked skeptical. "I'm not into eating charcoal, in case you didn't know."

Helen laughed. "Neither am I," she said. "I'm just about to sear the steak, then put it into the oven. It'll take a while. Want to watch?"

John said he would and followed her into the kitchen. He watched as Helen heated some oil in a frying pan, then sizzled the steak in hot oil until it was a nice, crusty brown, almost black in some areas. She seasoned the meat, then put it into the oven. "I cook the meat at 200 degrees, once it's seared. I cook it until it's 122 inside, which will be medium rare. I hope you like it that way because that's what you're going to get."

"I'm sure it'll be great," John said. "I've never had baked steak before."

Helen laughed. "Then you haven't lived," she said.

Helen poured a couple of glasses of red wine, then led John back to the couch. "Have you thought about what I told you at Vittorio's?" she asked.

John hesitated. "It's a lot to take in, but I gather you are insisting that we don't make real decisions because we can't. There doesn't seem to be a mechanism to allow for that. So we are biological robots doing whatever we are programmed to do. And our future is cast in concrete because there is nothing to allow for change. Like a cue ball struck on a pool table, whatever happens is whatever physics says will happen. Is that right?"

Helen nodded. "Pretty much," she said. "There is some randomness in the universe, so the story isn't really cast in concrete, but the changes are pretty small. Too small to notice, for the most part."

"So," John continued, "whatever we do, and whatever happens to us, is already determined. We're just following the script."

"Yep," Helen said, "and we hope the script is to our liking. But if it isn't, there isn't much we can do about it. We are leaves in a stream, going where the stream sends us."

John sat back and looked at Helen for a long time. "I'm not sure I can believe it, but I have to admit I can't argue against it." John shook his head. "You are saying that everything that has happened so far is inevitable, and everything that is going to happen is inevitable."

"Yes, John, that's exactly it."

"So nobody has any real choice and everything everyone has done was done because it was part of the script."

"Yes, John, that's exactly it."

"So," John continued, "nobody is to blame?"

"Nope," Helen said, "nobody is to blame. Not you, not me, not anyone. For all the things that have gone horribly wrong, it was inevitable and nobody was to blame. And if we're lucky, the experiences can change us in wonderful ways."

John nodded. "So, it's not my fault and it's not your fault that I have fallen in love with you?"

Helen paused. "No more than it's anyone's fault that I have fallen in love with you, John."

He leaned over and gave her a kiss. "I'm glad the script lead me here to be with you."

"Me, too," Helen said.

"But I wish the path to this point had been little more pleasant."

"Me, too," Helen sighed. "I could have done without the pain. But maybe I wouldn't appreciate the 'now' if I hadn't experienced the 'then'."

"Yeah, maybe," John said as he leaned over for another kiss, "but it might have been nice to try."

The kiss he gave her was filled with warmth, caring, and a promise for the future. John and Helen talked about their lives, what their hopes were when they were young, what their dreams are now that they are a bit wiser and more in touch with reality. Helen said that age has brought her comfort, knowing that she's just an actor in a grand play. She can forgive herself and others for any misdeeds. John said he couldn't quite forgive everyone he's run across, but he's closer to forgiving himself. This admission made Helen quite happy. No one should have to bear the burden John did, and it was good to see that he was slowly removing the load on his heart.

The time went quickly and the temperature monitor for the steak beeped annoyingly early. But John and Helen were both hungry, so it was probably just as well that they get something to eat. Helen had plans that were going to take some energy.

John was amazed at the steak. It was cooked to the same color all the way through, except for the very edges where the meat was seared. It tasted great and he said so. Helen cheerfully accepted the compliment. It's been a while since she has had a chance to cook for someone other than herself or whoever bought her stuff at the bake sale.

No longer hungry, John and Helen sat back on the couch. John patted his stomach. "You keep on feeding me like that, and I'll have to go on an exercise program."

"Funny you should mention that," Helen said, eying his torso and his biceps. "I have the perfect program for you."

"Really," said John, a bit suspicious.

"Yes," Helen said. "And it starts like this." She gave him a soft kiss.

"Perhaps this is one of those programs I can actually stick to for a change," John said as he returned her kiss.

From kissing and light touches, they quickly moved to caresses and determined touches that made Helen wet and John hard. They moved to the bedroom and slowly undressed each other, admiring the other's body and touching softly in all the right places. Helen lay on the bed and pulled John down to her. He softly played with her nipples, feeling the areolas wrinkle and the nipples become stiff with desire. He touched the insides of the elbows, sending shivers down to her pussy. She stroked his cock, feeling his need rise to the surface. She bent over to suck the head of his cock while he used her wetness as lubricant and rubbed her pussy, spending plenty of time around her clit. They both moaned in delight as each got what was wanted, and what was needed. When John could take no more stimulation from her lips, he pulled Helen back to the mattress and fondled her some more. His reward was more moans as Helen became even more aroused. He concentrated on her nipples, switching to the other one when the first one became too sensitive. Helen became more and more vocal, eventually telling him she was coming. He was surprised; he had never had a woman who could climax from a simple nipple rub. Her climax was gentle, but still rewarding. He brought her down with simple caresses of her breasts, staying away from the too-sensitive nipples and areolas.

Then, laying on his side, he straddled her right leg and rubbed the head of his cock on her vaginal lips. She moaned in appreciation. He entered her, but only by an inch or so, sensing her need by what he felt and what he could see. He watched her and felt her, determining the right time to enter her completely. He must have guessed right because she moaned and arched her back when he thrust into her as deeply as he could. The thrusts were slow and brought Helen to another orgasm. John backed off for a while, gently rubbing the entrance to her pussy with his cock. He reached over and started to rub her clit while he alternated between playing with her entrance and burying himself in her as far as he could go. He held onto her as if his life depended upon it; she responded in kind. He felt his desire increase to a peak he knew would make him come; he could see on her face that she was in the same place. He thrust into her deeply, coming to a climax in only a few more strokes. He roared with pleasure, matching her scream of pure, intense ecstasy.

Once the wave of their climaxes subsided, he wrapped his arms and body around her and felt the heat she was giving off. It felt good to comfort a woman like this, he thought, something he hadn't been capable of doing for quite some time. She loved the strength he exuded, feeling protected and safe. They stayed this way, telling each of their love with simple touches and kisses. Soon, sleep claimed them both.

_________________________

John woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. Helen had left a robe for him on the bed, so he put it on and walked out to the kitchen. "Oh, my," John said, "great sex and food too? It just can't get any better."

Helen smiled. "I hope you like waffles, because that's what you're getting. They're almost done. I just have to crisp them up in the oven."

John sat down at the kitchen table while Helen busied herself sliding a waffle onto a plate, adding some pats of butter. She put the plate in front of John and slid the bottle of maple syrup toward him. "Chow down," she said.

John thanked her and munched on his waffle, all the while looking at her. She caught him looking, of course, but didn't say anything. "What?" John said, "You wiggle that hot body around me and you expect me not to notice?"

Helen blushed as she laughed. "I'm not sure I agree with your assessment, but I thank you just the same."

"I call 'em like I see 'em," John responded.

They ate breakfast mostly in silence, with the occasional moan of approval. John really liked waffles for breakfast; he had no idea how Helen knew. And the mimosa she made was just right.

When they were both finished, John helped clear the table and rinse the plates and silverware. He eyed her while she put the dishes in the dishwasher. He cleared his throat.

"You know," John started, "that was certainly a lot of calories. I think I'm going to have to work them off somehow. I don't want to get out of shape."

"You are right," Helen said, with mock seriousness. "Whatever will we do?"

"Oh, I have an idea or two," John said. He turned to walk to the bedroom. "Coming?"

"Not yet, but I hope to soon," Helen laughed.

John turned to her and smiled, then dropped the robe, exposing his backside, and walked to the bed.

And Helen saw the pimple on his ass. How the hell did Sam know about that, she wondered. Roseville really is a small town.