I Should Can and Will at Least Try

First and foremost I want to thank my editor Kenjisato for tirelessly correcting my numerous mistakes. His hours of volunteer work converted this story from a grammatical bloodbath to a far better piece of writing. The smoothness of this work is largely due to him. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Do please leave ratings and comments I do find them helpful.

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"Rita, where is the extra cat litter?" I said into my phone, as the Furious Five curled amongst my legs and rubbed my arms from the counter. I swept all twenty-two pounds of Maine Coon, leader and most notorious of the Furious Five and also known as Lynx, from the counter to stop him from nudging my coffee cup over the edge, while shoving two others of the five aside with my feet. I was pet-sitting for my Rita and her husband, Jason, while they were on vacation in Florida.

As you must surely already know, Rita is probably my best friend. How do you know? Would you pet sit five undisciplined, rowdy felines for anyone but your best friend? I sure as hell would not. I like cats, I really do, but I want them sitting in my lap rather than crawling up my legs, around my legs, and competing with each other for how many things can be shoved off of the counter.

"Sure, Olivia, you will find a bunch of bags in the basement closet," Rita told me.

So, I am off to the basement accompanied by the Furious Five. I somehow managed to make it safely to the basement, whilst the cats used my legs as a slalom course.

"The back closet," Rita added, as I stepped over a myriad of cat toys and past Jason's workbench, with tools hung on the walls. Chloe, the calico was up on the workbench immediately. Jason, Rita's patient and wonderful husband, does like cats, but I do think he wants calmer ones. He does have one sanctuary, his office and tech repair center on the second floor. Also, the cats are often banished to the guest room when guests visit; Rita and Jason can have nights of good company and good cheer, rather than nights of chaos, mayhem, and misfortune.

I found the closet and opened the door. The litter is on the floor and I bend at the knees, proper lifting to take care of the old back, to get a bag. I am almost six-foot-four and strong, but there is no reason to have to miss work at my basketball camp, out of carelessness. I see myself as a human crouching to get a bag of litter. Lynx, the Maine Coon, sees me as a vault platform. He is on my shoulders in an instant, springing for the top shelf. Even at twenty-two pounds, he might have made it, except his launch knocked me off balance. He made a desperate scramble, back paws on the winter coats, front paws scrambling amongst the stuff on the top shelf.

His powerful front paws knocked down an old makeup mirror and a cribbage board, before finally finding purchase on a medium-sized cardboard box. As the cribbage board struck me on the head, I looked up to see the cardboard box slowly sliding forward. Lynx, realizing that the situation was a losing proposition, tried to leap clear, but both cat and box tumbled from the shelf. As the box fell, the top came off--cat, box and contents--poured down on and around me. My left arm, protecting my head from most of it, took the brunt of the impact as the clatter of plastic filled the room and the entire Furious Five made a swift retreat back upstairs. Thankfully, the box was light and I was essentially unhurt, although the cribbage board might have bruised my forehead.

I looked around amongst the chaos, finding myself surrounded by old, homemade VCR cassettes. Scrambling to my knees, I grabbed my phone, as Rita was hollering in alarm, "What happened? Are you okay, Olivia?"

"Lynx happened," I said, knowing that would explain much to Rita. "When I was bending down to get the litter box, he sprang for the top shelf pulling a bunch of stuff down," I clarified, as I righted the box and reached for the first cassette. It was labeled in Rita's elegant script, of which I have been jealous of for the last twelve years-- Jason, Rita, Demarcus and Carla April 1993.

"It sounded like an avalanche. Are you sure you're okay? Are the cats fine?"

I heard her, but barely. Demarcus was my husband. That date on the VCR tape was about a year before he and I started dating. It did not say anything else.

"You there? Are you sure you are okay?" Rita said again.

"Yeah, yeah, I am fine. I, uh, I just... Uh, what are all these VCR tapes?"

A long pause, too long a pause. "Oh, nothing. Look, I am paying roaming charges, so I should go. I am glad you are okay."

"Rita, wait, but what are they?" I said, with more insistence.

"Look, just ignore them for now. It is not really all that important, but it will take too long to explain. I will tell you when I get back, okay?"

"But, Rita..."

"Look, I gotta go. Do you trust me? Just trust me, and we will talk when I get back. I promise; just trust me."

This conversation was taking place in 2004. Roaming charges were very real and very expensive. If you were out of your network, you would be paying four or five dollars a minute.

I had known Rita forever, and she was my best friend. I had to be able to trust her. "Okay, Rita," I said, in the most cheerful voice I could muster. "Of course, I trust you, and I will wait! Have fun and I will see you in a few days."

She hung up. I stared at the tapes, thinking how this might explain why they had a VCR in their bedroom and in their living room. VCRs were on their way out for most people. Placing the tapes in chronological order, I discovered that there were one or two a month from February 1993 until May of 1995, but summers and January were not included. Whatever it was, it was happening in college, although not starting until late in their freshmen year. Various names showed up, but I saw some patterns. Rita and Jason showed up on all of them, and I showed up on none of them. Demarcus's last tape was in March of 1994. I know that month; that was the month we started dating.

"Do you trust me?" Rita's words echoed in my head. Resolutely, I put the tapes in the box, and put it away. The Furious Five were finding the courage to come back down stairs, and soon were slinking about, as I filled the litter boxes, one on each floor. The last one was in a little hidey-hole in the master bedroom, under the TV table. As I stood, I looked at Rita's dresser along the side of the bed, and I saw us.

The photo was from early junior year of college; the beginning of autumn colors behind us. Demarcus and I, arm in arm and cheek to cheek, mine freckled ivory and his sharp ebony, so perfectly deep and dark. We were standing comfortably and easy in our pose. I smiled at that younger Demarcus in the picture. It helped him that he had four or five inches on me, I like taller men, and for me that was a challenge.

We had just finished playing a pickup game and my dirty-blonde hair is braided and damp from sweat, despite the cool air. Rita and Jason were not serious yet, although Jason's luxurious black hair and soft-brown Italian eyes were working their way into her heart already. Jason stood next to Demarcus, and Rita next to me. At six-four, I almost have a foot on Rita, who our college basketball team listed as five-foot-six. Well, maybe, when in spike heels, which she often would wear.

Rita being, in so many ways, my opposite, rapidly became my best friend when I transferred. Her flashy outfits made my modest self blush, and her brash, unhesitant opinions, at first, annoyed me, but then taught me courage. Our friendship never would have made it, if I had brought the racist, insular values of my hometown, but I had only brought ignorance, tempered by curiosity, and a willingness to learn. I had never even talked to a Black person, although my first year in college, I had played against them, as my very White and very Christian school accumulated a 5-27 record. People had told me Black people were stupid and violent, but they were the same people who told me women were subservient to men. My awakening had begun when I found the courage to transfer against my parents' wishes.

Rita made such a point to welcome me, striving to make me comfortable as her new roommate, when I arrived at New England State. I did not consider it at the time, but we laugh now about how she was also uncomfortable, as she tried to balance being herself with not wanting to offend me. She did get me to stretch and grow beyond my boundaries and, were it not for her, I never would have finally severed myself from the indoctrinated guilt gifted to me by my family, so I was free to find myself, my husband and my life. Trusting her then was hard, so trusting her now, should not be.

Trust in everything else did not come easy, but trust and chemistry on the basketball court came easy to the two of us, and that chemistry got our school to the Elite Eight of the NCAA tournament for the first time, and then a national championship a year later, with her running point and me using my agility and height to dominate the high post. We found the beginnings of that chemistry the first time we practiced together, and it slowly bloomed into all parts of our lives, creating a lifelong friendship.

Rita and Jason were back a few days later. It was a relief to have them back. The four of us ran a basketball training camp, and without them it was hard. However, as I sat in Rita's living room early Monday afternoon (camp was closed on Monday's during the school year), it felt awkward. It was just the two of us and we chatted about her trip and how the camp was going for the time they were gone. We both avoided the obvious, but those VCR tapes sat, like a great beast ominously sitting between us. It would not let us really engage with each other, but we both feared what might happen were we to wake it.

Another awkward pause, Rita smiled a soft, quiet smile, looking at me with her dark-brown eyes. "We should just shoot this damn elephant, no?"

I smiled back, "Okay, but you are making me nervous."

She unfolded her jeans-clad, short athletic legs from the couch. "I'll be right back." She was gone and back again, the box of tapes in hand. She thrusted the box into my hands. "Pick one, any one."

Rather than just reaching in and grabbing a random one, I lined them up in date order on the table. "Tell me, does it make a difference?"

She shrugged, "Not really; they are all of the same ilk, except for who's in them."

I pursed my lips in irritation, "The same what?"

She tried to hold my gaze, but looked down. Were her skin pale like mine, I might have seen a blush, but the rich-milk-chocolate hid any evidence. "Well, Olivia, we were all in this club. We would meet once a month. It was a chance to relax, enjoy ourselves, and let off steam without any complications. Before Jason and I ever figured out that we wanted to be in a serious relationship, we knew we wanted to enjoy each other and enjoy college."

I am not stupid, and I was not trying to be a jerk. You, dear reader, know full well what she is hinting at, but is too embarrassed to say. But, I, out of a mixture of denial and naivete, could not make the connection.

I stared at her stupidly. Her oval eyes started to fill with tears, and she shook her head, "Don't be angry at Demarcus. He quit the moment he started dating you. He said you were worth giving it all up for."

Upset by her distress, I slowly shook my head. "Was it drugs? Why would you film it?"

She half-laughed, while still almost crying, and collapsed next to me on the couch. Grabbing me by my knee and gently shaking it, she looked at me, brown eyes meeting blue, "No, no drugs." She took a breath, and nodded to herself, almost as if giving herself permission or a command to continue. "It was sex," she said bluntly, and directly, "...group sex."

I sat, speechless and stunned. I picked up the last tape with Demarcus's name. It was titled, "Demarcus, Jason, Rita and Serena."

I looked at it. "Who's Serena?"

Rita shrugged, as if that was not too important. "Cheerleader and a friend of Jason's. Long black hair, and green eyes, with that perfectly beautiful Russian face, that almost looks a little Eastern or Chinese."

I nodded, staring dully at the tape, "Yeah, I think I remember her. She was a flyer, and in the men's game against Cal State when Demarcus broke the school's single-game-scoring record, she shattered her ankle when her base missed her, right? Wasn't that her?" Rita nodded. I shrugged, "I guess that's not important. So, I mean, tell me what happens?"

"Well, Jason was always the cameraman, but he participated, too. Then one person would be the center of attention."

"And then..."

"Do you want to just watch it? It might be simpler, although maybe you don't want to."

I stared at the tape, thinking back to when Demarcus and I started dating. I had never been on any kind of a date at all before I met him, and he took things so slow. I knew he was experienced, but he never pressured me to leave my comfort zone, and I had a very small and very slow-growing comfort zone. It was over a year before I touched him...touched him there.

I felt the weight of the tape in my hand; this, what is on this, is what he walked away from when we started dating. I was not sure if I wanted to see it, but part of me needed to see it. Sliding the tape from the case, I handed it to Rita. She met my eyes as I did so looking for a final affirmation, and I nodded, "Play it," I said firmly, but in a whisper.

With a smile offering reassurance, she whispered back, "This was all a long time ago and before he dated you. This has nothing to do with you." She walked over to the TV and slid the tape in.

To be clear, VCR tapes, even filmed at the highest quality, were never great, and this was long before the day of 60-inch HD, but the picture was clear enough.

They were in what was Demarcus's and Jason's dorm room. I knew it well, as I had spent a lot of time there, but at the time of this video, I had never been there. The two beds were pushed together, with a blanket stuffed in the crack and another spread across both beds and tucked in. The room was neat and orderly, not the norm for most college guys, but it was for them. Basketball stars adorned the walls, the stars they idolized and in whose footsteps they wished to follow. Demarcus was so close to fulfilling that dream, before he blew out his knee.

Rita, Demarcus and Serena were sitting along the side of the bed. Rather than being naked, they were dressed up. Demarcus was in a white dress shirt and tie, with dress pants. This was long before he could afford tailored shirts, so he had to choose between almost-uncomfortably-tight shoulders, or a very blousy waist. He has always loved his shoulders so his biceps and pectorals were clearly defined beneath the overly tight shirt. Even seated, he towered over the two girls.

Rita sat in the middle, arm-in-arm with Demarcus.

I felt a pang of jealousy. The Rita sitting next to me saw it on my face, and she whispered, "Don't forget, he left us, he left this, for you." I continued to watch.

Large, colorful flowers were seemingly strewn randomly across Rita's dark-red dress. Her arms were bare, and the top two buttons of the thigh-length dress were open, just so you could see the hint of cleavage. The tight curls of her hair were tied back in a neat bun, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Serena sat a little apart, with a nervous smile on her round face. She had a blue, button-down blouse and a pair of black slacks. Both fitted tightly, showing her powerful gymnast's thighs and her C-cup breasts sitting high on her chest. She licked her lips tentatively, "Feels a little different with the camera rolling."

Rita looked over at her, "Feels great to watch, though. Remember, you say stop, we stop. Okay?"

Serena gave a firm nod, as she girded herself to begin. "Let's start. I think once we start it will be easy. So do we just go?" She slid over next to Rita, until Rita's black thigh was touching her pants.

"First things first," Rita said, and then continued. "I am sober and want to be here and I can just say stop at any time." Jason and Demarcus repeated the line. Serena paused, and looked directly into the camera, and firmly stated the affirmation.

"We would always say that before we started," the Rita sitting next to me remarked.

"Relax, girl," Rita said, with a smile. "Let's start slow, and just let us take the lead. Demarcus, go sit next to Serena."

I watched, transfixed with curiosity and a strange fear. I could not put words to why I felt afraid, but I thought it went back to how I always had felt like I was not good enough for Demarcus. How did he give this up? "You all look so beautiful," I whispered.

Rita, missing my point, maybe intentionally, nodded, "We always dressed up, and we would always go to dinner first. We would drink a little, but drunkenness was seriously frowned on."

Demarcus rose and stepped across in that languid, casual manner that made me fall head-over-heels in love with him.He gave Serena some space, but he draped one long arm around her shoulders as he said, "Serena, when you were walking over, I bet part of you had second thoughts. However, you still came. What image was in your head that made you keep coming?"

As he spoke, Serena stared into his eyes with rapt attention, and what could only be lust. Rita smiled at Demarcus and at Jason behind the camera. Rita looked across Serena at Demarcus and said with a smile, "You, I think you were the image in her head." Then she brought her lips right next to Serena's ear. She whispered, barely audibly, "Go ahead, kiss him if you want to."

Serena sat, still frozen looking at Demarcus. Rita reached behind Serena and guided her right hand up to Demarcus's strong prominent jaw. Serena stroked it slowly, and then leaned in. Demarcus bent down to meet her mouth, and they kissed tenderly. Serena wanted more, and slid her hand behind Demarcus's neck to pull him in closer. Finally, they broke. Demarcus smiled, his white teeth flashing against his dark face, "Was that it?"

Serena smiled, "It makes a good start." She pulled his head down to kiss him again, and her left hand slid up along the outside of his shirt and started undoing his tie. Rita's left hand began stroking Serena's arm, as Demarcus cupped her face with both hands. Serena's eyes closed in pleasure, and Rita's hand left her arm and began stroking her neck. An almost purr-like moan came from Serena's mouth. "Oh yes, I want this. I really, really want this. "

"Then sit back and enjoy," Demarcus whispered.

I grabbed the controller and stopped the tape. "Those words, he said them to me. Many times. My husband said them to me many times!" I was almost crying.

Rita hugged me. "Of course, he has. Just because he used them before he dated you, doesn't make them any less kind. He is unselfish on the basketball court and he is unselfish in bed. That makes him a great guy. Let's just stop. I think you got the point."

Part of me wanted to say yes, but also, part of me wanted to see more. He seemed to be so in control, but also so enjoying himself. He really gave that up? What did he really give up? I needed to know more, and know what he felt. "But, what else did you all do?"

"I guess pretty much everything."

"With everyone?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, with everyone."

"So you with Demarcus?"

She nodded and hugged me tightly. "This was before you were dating. Do not forget that."

I nodded reluctantly and tentatively. "I want to see more," I said, and started the tape again.

Rita looked at the camera and Jason standing behind it. "Come, sit here," and she patted the top of the bed. The camera angle swung around, and then it must have been paused. Next, the camera was looking over Jason's right shoulder. Serena lay between Jason's spread legs. Her head was nestled at the very top of his inner left thigh, right next to his groin. Her black hair was feathered like fine branches against a leafy green background of his slacks.