Mike & Karen Ch. 23

"Calm down, Alekto, I'll listen," he said, scowling and rubbing his arm where she'd been hitting him. If nothing else, the skin was turning slightly red. She'd obviously been taught how to slap skin for effect. He turned toward the dean again. "So what's this stir, Groucho?"

"In essence, it was a great thing," Marks continued, resolved to more DeBourne-induced despair before this discussion was over. "Your work in compactification with Calabi-Yau Manifolds has blown the astrophysics community away, and I mean that on a global scale. Impressive."

"Thank you, sir," Karen said, nodding, while Mike simply shrugged. It was the reaction from the international community he'd been expecting, after all. He knew exactly what this meant.

"And while the university is getting enormous credit, we still have to take it to Lucerne this summer for presentation and further scrutiny," Marks continued. "Myself, another professor, two fourth-years, and two doctorate students are the ones who represent the university when we receive invites."

"I envy you, sir, it must be quite wonderful to mingle with all those brilliant minds," Karen admitted, slightly jealous of the seniors who would be accompanying the dean.

"And here's the problem," Marks said, regretting what he was about to do. "It's basically unheard of for two sophomores to do what you two have done. You've changed astrophysics. You've opened up a billion more exciting questions for these eggheads."

He looked squarely up at both of them. "They're all screaming to meet you. I'm supposed to also take you two to Lucerne with me, so that you can present your case."

Karen looked like she might faint with joy, her heart pounding in her chest, while even Mike raised an eyebrow. He hadn't exactly expected that.

"So do you see the problem I have here?" Marks asked wearily. Clearly this had been a predicament with him for some days now. "To borrow a recent movie quote, I have to send you two to Top Gun."

"It may be unusual, sir," Karen answered, only barely containing her excitement. "But surely the conventions can be overlooked in order to-"

"Oh, damn..." Mike said, interrupting her as something occurred to him. Karen and the dean both looked up at him, and she could see the dismay growing in his eyes. He turned his head to look down at her. "Gordon, the Lucerne Conference is in the first week of July."

"Exactly," Marks said, his expression grim. "If you two go to Lucerne, you're giving up on any chances of competing to qualify for the Olympics in Seoul next year, because the national tryouts to begin qualifying are happening at the exact same time."

He looked at Karen. "Apparently you're supposed to qualify and clean up in archery and fencing, and place well in equestrian."

He looked up at Mike. "And what chance would anyone have against you in judo, boxing, or a lot of the strength events?"

Both students were silent, the sense of dread in the room palpable.

"Achieving your dream of international recognition in Lucerne means forgoing the chance to represent your country on the Olympic podium," he sighed. "I can't make this decision for you two. You're on your own."

Karen's eyes stung, so she closed them, bowing her head. A part of her wanted to scream about how unfair this was. But how often did anyone get to represent their country at the Olympics, or get recognized by an international sciences body? What did she have to complain about, since she had the luxury of choosing?

Because it was so damn hard to choose. She thought she might faint on the spot as the forces weighed on her mind. What would she tell her parents?

She'd have to tell them she chose. Blackwells were never stymied by indecision. Perhaps it didn't even matter to them which she chose, as long as she had shown backbone and made the choice.

And yet she was paralyzed. How on earth could she choose? Scientific progress or patriotic glory? No right answer only made it worse! The turmoil she was feeling hurt her chest. She had been elated moments ago, but now almost wanted to cry. Very rarely had she felt so very torn.

She opened her eyes and saw the dean sitting behind his desk, his hands steepled under his chin and his eyes closed. He was clearly very troubled. She could relate.

And next to her, she felt a great ocean of calm. DeBourne, the unchanging and invincible prodigy, who faced every challenge head-on with a laugh and a smile. He'd run into a laser chamber during an active nuclear physics test to beat a mechanical part into submission, after all.

Karen turned her head and looked up at him. And in a rare moment of complete trust with another human being, she let him see the turmoil in her eyes, and the fear of making the wrong decision.

Mike had his eyes closed, his head bowed, and was stroking his chin, as was his habit when he was deep in thought. He radiated an aura of calm contemplation that she let wash over her, and she sighed out loud.

His eyes flicked open and he turned his head slightly to look over at her. She almost flinched and squeaked as those electric blue eyes bored into her and instantly recognized what she was feeling, what she was going through.

And Mike didn't see weakness there. Karen Gordon was the strongest person he knew, the most formidable. In those bewitching golden-amber eyes, he saw an agonizing choice, a young woman who was pained by needing to make a decision that nobody of good intent should ever have to make.

Of course she was conflicted! She was a genuinely decent person. Sure, going to the Olympics and winning medals was a personal legacy, but she was like himself in that she would have gone for pride in her country.

And here she was being asked to balance that against the opportunity of a lifetime, to do her part in putting the university and the Canadian physics community on the international map. And she deserved it, because she shared the credit with him.

Her eyes were pleading with him. Not for advice, because anyone could give her that, and make her decision no easier. This was about something much more important, much deeper.

She was asking him to make the decision for both of them. She trusted him to have the right answer.

It struck him like a thunderbolt, and he willed himself to not shiver. The one person on this planet he respected more than anything had put aside her own judgment, and was waiting on him to make everything better, and to make sense.

How could he fail her?

He raised his head and smiled.

"Well," he said finally, shrugging. "There's always Barcelona."

Dean Marks' eyes snapped open and he gaped up at the giant student. "What did you say?"

"Groucho, it's the simplest answer on earth," Mike reasoned, shrugging. "Gordon and I will go to Barcelona in '92. We'll both be only in our early twenties, our physical prime, so what's the harm? Meanwhile, we go blow them away in Lucerne this July."

"Of course," Marks breathed, as if discovering some elusive equation or glorious epiphany. "Barcelona! You forgo the tryouts this year and try not to make any amazing scientific discoveries in '91 during qualifying!"

"No promises, but I'll do what I can to refrain from rocking the international physics community again," Mike laughed.

Karen, still standing beside him, felt like she was ready to burst. Of course! It was so simple, why hadn't she thought of it?!

"So you're both in?" Marks asked, looking back and forth between them. Mike nodded simply, while Karen's nod was rather more eager, her golden eyes glinting with excitement at the resolution. "You both agree to Lucerne?"

They both nodded again.

"Well, I don't envy your conversations with the Olympic committee, but they'll see reason eventually," Marks mused, glad it wasn't him making the phone calls. "Besides, we'll still have that Ben Johnson fellow and Lennox Lewis to sweep up a bunch of medals, won't we?"

Some minutes later, the two students were walking down the hall away from the dean's office together. Karen still felt fit to burst, although she hid it with her normal aplomb and dignity. She kept her books pressed to her chest, though, because she was so excited, her nipples felt like they would cut through steel.

"Thank you, DeBourne," she said in a casual tone that hopefully conveyed the requisite amount of appreciation. "It is not often I find myself conflicted like that."

"No worries," he said, shrugging cheerfully. "You would've arrived at that conclusion too, I just got there first."

Such a pretty lie, she thought, trying to hide her smile. And so considerate. God save me if this oversized mountain man is the one Jenny moved aside for...

She had so many people to tell about what was coming next.

***

A pub, the present...

Everyone in the establishment was clapping as Mike and Alex led the next song from the stage. Mike strummed on an acoustic guitar as he sang into the mic, singing the chorus.

"Now I ask you, friends, what's a fellow to do

When her eyes, they shine with a golden hue!

And I knew right then, I'd be taking a whirl,

And I fell in love with a Gordon girl!"

He winked at his wife as he sang the final line of the verse, and Karen blushed, trying not to look down at her lap. At the next table over, Valentina and Andrea almost swooned while the musical interlude played. Mike and Alex were up onstage with several other students, playing along with them.

Alex took over at the mic, playing his bass. Alexa, Freja, and Jeanie all squealed, and Karen found herself hoping that none of them began throwing their panties at her son. Then it occurred to her that it was very unlikely that they were wearing any. She watched her son at the mic.

"We were halfway there when the rain came down

Of a day-I-ay-I-ay

She asked me up to her flat downtown

On a fine soft day-I-ay.

And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do?

'Cause her hair was blonde and her eyes were blue

I took her hand and I gave her a twirl

And I lost my heart to a Blackwell girl!"

The audience erupted in applause again when the song finally finished, and the father and son sat down, happily imbibing more beer. Both their wives snuggled into their arms.

"Very clever lyrics, big boy," Karen purred, smirking up at Mike. "No need to try so hard, though, I'm pretty darn sure you're getting lucky tonight."

"Tonight?" Mike chuckled. "I think you mean every day of my life, what with being married to you and all."

Karen blushed and giggled again, whispering something against his skin. Alex, meanwhile, had his aunt fawning over him.

"I can't wait to be officially a DeBourne," she sighed. "Alexandra Aurora Andromeda Blackwell-DeBourne... y'gotta admit, it has a really nice ring to it."

"Ja, it does," Freja added, nestled into Alex's other side and patting him affectionately. "It is a very pretty surname, nearly as pretty as Kjaer-LeTourneau."

"You're already a DeBourne as far as I'm concerned," Alex replied, his arm around his aunt-wife. "And yeah, some of dad's family is coming down for the housewarming and you'll meet them then, but we're taking you up to Kapuskasing after the semester ends. Once the whole family meets you, you'll really become a DeBourne, best believe it."

"I'm so nervous about meeting them," Alexa sighed. "I've heard so much about them my entire life from mom, and I... I guess I'm intimidated."

"I dunno why," Alex mused. "I mean, they loved mom the minute they met her."

"Well, yeah, but that's Kar," reasoned the blonde. "That's different, she's, well... Kar."

Alex laughed. "They're all intimidated by her too, I promise you. I think the only person anywhere who isn't is dad, to be honest. But I guarantee, Alexa, they're gonna love you."

"And you are certain that you want Jeanette and I to come along?" Freja asked.

Alex shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "You're family, aren't you?"

The Danish girl blinked away a tear and smiled. No wonder her soulmate was so in love with this man.

The next table over...

"Wow, you're not feelin' any pain, are you, Bubbles?" Trilby said as she sat next to Valentina, who had reached the silly-giggly stage of inebriation. Not that she wasn't silly and giggly to begin with, but now alcohol was to blame, and not her general disposition.

"Nnnnnnope," the brunette said, smiling lopsidedly at her co-worker. "But I'm surrounded by lots of friends and bodyguards, so I'm safe, y'know?"

Trilby looked over at something on the other side of the table. "Well, y'got us girls to protect you, anyway..."

Across the table, Tunde, who had been seated between Dave and Ari, seemed to have gone to sleep, having imbibed a pint of green beer and a single shot of whiskey (which he subsequently expelled in the bathroom). He had slumped over to one side, his head on Dave's shoulder, snoring. Dave frowned and pushed him upright, but the young African man simply flopped in the other direction, his head now on Ari's shoulder. The tech-guru made a wry face, trying to ignore this invasion of his space. Not to mention the drool now ruining his shirt.

"Fear not, Mister Jaffe, the dry-cleaning machines back at the Manor can certainly deal with that level of violation," Tatyana assured him while the girls all laughed.

"Y'know who hasn't done a hooter shooter yet?" Val declared, looking at everyone.

Dave and Ari both held up their hands.

"Aside from you two, or Marie," Val giggled. "I meant Tril. We should get her to do a shot from between my boobs."

"Uh, not necessary, Bubbles," Trilby said, waiving it off. "Your hugs're enough to remind me what they feel like, on a regular basis."

"Yeah, but we're out partying," Andrea piped in, amused by the notion of seeing the hippie girl do the hooter-shooter challenge. "Face it, Tril, how often do we get to do stuff like this?"

Trilby, uncharacteristically, looked over at Tatyana, as if asking her advice. The Russian woman shrugged. "She is right, Trilby. You were the one who grew up on a commune, one would think you would be the expert on cutting loose."

Everyone watched while Trilby considered. She looked at them all. "Does it have to be whiskey? That shit makes me hurl."

"You and Tunde," Glenda laughed. As the chauffeur for the DeBournes tonight, she was drinking only minimally, a situation she was used to in any event. She drank off-duty when she knew she wasn't going to be needed, just to stay in practice. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't have to be the Jameson, Tril. What's you're preference? The shot's on Mr. DeBourne anyway."

"I wish," Andrea drawled, eliciting laughter from the women, even Tatyana. "What's your poison, Tril?"

"Uhhhh..." she said, wondering. She thought back to her days on the commune. They'd owned a still and made their own alcohol, mostly for fuel for generators, but it could be tinkered with to produce ethyl for drinking as required. "I dunno... vodka?"

Moments later, Dave had several shots of Finlandia (to Tatyana's distress) delivered to the table. The agreement had finally been that other people would take shots with her in a show of solidarity. Valentina fitted the shot glass in her cleavage, while Andrea did the same for Ari.

Trilby tried not to frown as she stared at the tiny glass cylinder wedged in her friend's breasts. Val's hand cupped her boobs together to hold it steady.

It's just a shot between two really nice tits... tits you see all the time... tits that you're hugged by almost every night...

Everyone watching cheered as she leaned down, holding her Lennon glasses in place, and pressed her face into the infinitely soft skin. She wasn't a praying girl, but she prayed her mouth would find the shot glass, rather than searching.

Val's giggling and jiggling indicated she was missing the mark, not that Val minded. Trilby felt the cold, hard rim of the glass finally, and maneuvered her lips around it. Praying once again that she didn't make a fool of herself, she held onto it and raised herself up, but staying hunched over. She stood still, bent over while Val stepped back, her face pointed down, and the glass still caught in her mouth.

"There's a part two to the operation, Tril, y'know that, right?" Glenda teased, watching in amusement from her seat. Everyone else laughed.

Here goes... the hippie girl thought as she straightened her spine and then leaned backward, feeling the vodka rush down her throat. She quickly pulled the shot glass from her mouth and coughed into her fist while her co-workers cheered and applauded. Valentina patted her on the back.

"Jeezus on a pogo stick, remind me what the appeal of that is again?" Trilby wheezed as she sat down, her eyes crossing.

"Just part of cutting loose, Tril," Val said, pointing across the table to where Ari was taking his shot from between Andrea's sizeable knockers like a pro. He may have been gay, but he'd done more than his share of hooter shooters at clubs. "And y'couldn't ask for a better delivery mechanism, right? Well, except for... y'know..."

She nodded her head in the direction of Karen and Alexa, who were back up onstage, singing another song, once again to their men.

"Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear

Bonnie boy, ghile mear

You will be my gallant star

Oh haste to me mo ghile mear!

Mountains high, and valleys low

The cuckoo sings of Saxon foe

'Tis you must strike the mortal blow

Mo ghile mear, mo buachaill beo!"

"Okay, I give up," Glenda sighed as she watched the show, shaking her head. "What're the spaghetti straps on their dresses made of, titanium? That is so unfair."

Nobody could disagree with her. The flowing dresses the sisters wore, green on Karen, and blue on Alexa, were propped up by almost impossibly thin straps over their shoulders, and the design of the dresses enhanced the presentation of their large busts, from awesome to downright jaw-dropping.

"So come my love to battle come

To this fair land so weary sung

Let harp and song the valleys hum

And sound the sound of freedom's drum!

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear

Bonnie boy, ghile mear

You will be my gallant star

Oh haste to me mo ghile mear!"

"So unfair..." Marie agreed, applauding with everyone else in the place as the song ended.

***

St. George Campus, some decades earlier...

Mike and Mona were sitting in a small student lounge by themselves, laughing as they watched the TV screen, while a VCR played its contents. Mona was in a comfy chaise while Mike had pulled over a sturdy metal stool, since these particular chairs were not a good fit for him huge frame. It didn't matter, though, since he was used to adapting for his routinely problematic size.

"Okay, okay," Mona cackled, almost doubled over and waving her hand at him. "I give, I give! You were right! I have a favourite Road Runner Show bumper! I do! Turn it off!"

"I don't believe you," Mike replied, smirking. "Tell me which one and why."

"Oh, God," she wheezed, looking at him, her eyes glassy with tears of laughter. "The one with the motorcycle. I dunno, the moment where the coyote held his hand out to make a U-turn just killed me."

"That was a funny moment, wasn't it?" Mike agreed. "My favourite moment is where the Road Runner is standing behind the Coyote and looks at the viewer, nodding before beeping and spooking him. The Road Runner nodding at me is hilarious. Were you just determined to not have one because they're all from the era of low-budget cartoons in the late Sixties?"