The Angel from Psych

"I didn't think it was that important."

I recalled my admissions to the professor just a few months earlier and went white as a sheet at the thought.

"Are you okay?" asked Kristen.

"No, but I'll live if she doesn't go all Lizzie Borden on me."

"Not my mom. Machine Gun Kelly, maybe," she said, grinning.

"Thanks. I feel so much better. Tell me, how the hell were you in her class?"

"Entry level course. The restrictions for us professorial offspring don't start until the 2000 level courses."

The professor walked in with a serving tray moments later, anger lighting her face. She poured herself a cup of coffee, added some cream, and then moved the tray over to Kristen. "Pardon me if I don't serve. My nerves are a little shot at the moment, having been up all the fucking night worried where the hell my daughter was and then finding out she was shacked up with one of my best-ever intro psych students who's intent on wasting his psychology insights on an engineering degree."

"Mom—"

"Don't 'Mom' me, Kristen! I give you a lot of freedom in this house, but this is the second time you've done this and it has to stop."

I was looking from mother to daughter and back. "I don't understand. Second time?"

Kristen looked like a deer in the headlights as her mother turned around toward her.

"You didn't tell him?"

"No, Momma, please? I will."

"What's going on?" I asked again, dreading the eventual answer.

"Jase, I'm so sorry, I couldn't tell you. I'm not a virgin. I played along as long as I could until I thought you were ready."

It was like a weight hit me in the chest, but only that of a feather pillow rather than the truck she seemed to believe. "Kristen, that's in the past and doesn't bother me at all if you care about me like I think you do."

Professor Sorenson was scowling, as if her master plan had just been scuttled, but she wasn't done yet. "Kristen, tell him the rest.".

"No, Momma. That's it."

She started to get up, but the professor said authoritatively, "Sit down. You see, Mr. Langley, Kristen couldn't tolerate birth control pills so she got pregnant by her old boyfriend. She had an abortion."

This revelation hurt more than the first, but in truth, that wasn't my business. I didn't have time to think about it any more, though, since the prof wasn't done.

"Kristen, please tell me you used protection this time."

"It's okay, Mom. My cycle's supposed to start today or tomorrow."

Another round of curses practically curled my toes. "Supposed, Kristen?" Curses. "Do you hear yourself? The young woman whose cycle issues are exceeded only by my own."

"Professor, please. Don't be hard on her," I said. "It's my—"

"Shut up, Mr. Langley. Your turn's coming."

We sat at the table for what seemed like an hour while Professor Sorenson blasted her daughter and lambasted me for our actions. In the end, I said, "Professor, I love Kristen—"

"Hey!" exclaimed Kristen. "You could have told me before you told her."

"That's what I was doing in the truck when Hurricane Sorenson hit."

"That's not a very good way to win points, Mr. Langley."

"Oops, sorry," I said, having said it without thinking.

"Well, I love you, too, Jason."

We convinced Kristen's mom that we loved each other and she calmed down enough that the curse words were at least less frequent.

"Okay. So you love each other. That happens and people in love have sex. Hell, I was young once and I remember. Kristen, you're here as proof of that. But what I also remember is taking responsibility. What you did creates babies, which you well know, Kristen, and which I'd bet my bottom dollar you also know, Mr. Langley. But you two were too caught up with hormones to care. Tell me, which of you has the time and resources to care for a child?"

We both nodded in understanding of the seriousness of the situation.

"I'm not going to waste my time telling you not to fuc—have sex any more. You'd probably just laugh at me anyway. Therefore, what I will tell you is this. You, young lady, are going on birth control pills—no, I don't care how sick they make you. Morning sickness and labor pains are worse, believe me. And you, Mr. Langley, are going to the store today and getting a big box of condoms and a cucumber."

I looked at her like she'd gone off the rails.

"A cucumber?"

"Yes, get one about the size of your erect penis. You're going to demonstrate proficiency in putting on a condom, even if it takes every one in the box, before I'll leave you alone with her again."

I was about nine shapes of purple at the thought and at the grin Kristen was trying desperately to hide. Professor Sorenson continued, "And Kristen, you're going to watch so you'll know that it's right!" It was her turn to go red but her mom wasn't quite done. "Now, you two can sit here at the table and talk for a few minutes while I take care of some personal business. If you get up, I'll hear you and I swear you'll regret it."

She practically stomped out of the room.

"I'm so sorry," we both said at the same time. I paused so she could continue.

"Jase, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. About all of it."

"Kristen, your past wasn't my business. I hope your future still will be. And I'm sorry, too. I thought denying that anything might happen would keep it from happening, but when the time came, I wasn't strong enough to say no."

We were silent for a while, just looking at each other while being fearful, I believe, that her mother would return and rain holy hell down upon us. When she didn't come back after a while, we started to relax, just a little.

"I really do love you, Jase," she said as she extended her hand to the center of the table.

"And I really love you, too, Sweetheart," I replied, reaching out so the tips of our middle fingers just touched.

Professor Sorenson, standing in the doorway, cleared her throat. We both jumped a bit, but I felt she expected us to recoil away from each other on being caught, so I stretched a bit more, getting my hand over Kristen's fingers, at which point she flipped her hand over and our fingers just caught.

"Mom, we love each other and we're not giving up," she told her.

I was surprised when Professor Sorenson looked from one to the other of us and said, "And that, my daughter, and Mr. Langley, is the first thing that's made me happy about this whole sordid mess."

*****

Kristen and I spent as much time together as we could over the last couple of weeks of the semester. With our inhibitions broken, we made love frequently and she even stayed over a few times, always calling to let her mother know. Following her mother's strict guidelines, she took her birth control pills religiously and I used a condom without fail.

When the semester ended, I moved to summer housing since I was living on campus and working in the engineering lab as a technician for the summer. That way, I could earn some money and Kristen and I could continue to be together.

Unfortunately, about that same time, Kristen's period was about two weeks late and she started getting more and more nervous. It was a few days after that when we stopped at a pharmacy and picked up a pregnancy test. To our great dismay, it was positive.

We'd thought Professor Sorenson's first lecture was blistering, but it was just a warmup for the tongue-lashing we got when we let her know that her only baby girl was pregnant with my child. She finally reached a stopping point when she needed to take a deep breath.

"Professor, I've though about it a lot. Assuming Kristen will marry me, I'm going to take a leave of absence at school, get a drafting position for a year or two so we can get married, and I'll finish school taking one or two classes a semester."

"Was that supposed to be a proposal?" Kristen asked, frowning at me.

"It's better than either of you deserve!" said her mother. "And it's the stupidest shit I've heard in ages, and believe me, I've heard a lot of really stupid shit in my day. I am a psychology professor, after all."

"But it gives us a chance—"

"No!" she shouted. "It gives you both a chance to fuck up your lives and grow to hate each other. Worse still, you'll probably start to blame the poor baby even though he or she didn't have a thing to do with your stupid decisions."

She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and then, more calmly than I was expecting said, "Here's what we're going to do for the good of both of you and the child. I'm going to take Kristen to the clinic for an abortion. It's the only way you get your lives back on track and have a chance to be happy together."

"No, Momma! I can't!" Kristen cried as I stood up from the table and roared, "No!"

Personally, I didn't have have serious feelings one way or the other on the ethics or merits of abortion. The court case had been decided about ten or twelve years before when I was about that very age, old enough to understand the meaning but not old enough to fully understand its implications. Therefore, it had always been a legal right as far as I was concerned, but it wasn't something that I wanted for my girlfriend or my baby. There had to be another way.

Unfortunately, between Kristen and her mother, they fought through Kristen's tears over the next two days and agreed that it was the best option available despite my objections. After a while, they even convinced me.

Professor Sorenson has made some calls so she told us that each of us would be responsible for paying half of the cost of the procedure. With tears in my eyes, I handed over a $250 check the next day, which represented most of my bank account, and Kristen and her mother went to the clinic a couple of days later. Kristen came home that evening and cried. I tried to hold her, to give her comfort, but she didn't want to be touched. Her mom eventually ran me out.

Kristen and I spoke by phone a couple of times in the days that followed, but she was feeling bad as a result of the procedure and refused to see me. Finally, on a Sunday afternoon about ten days later, she invited me over.

We sat together on the back swing built for two, but there was a curious space between us. I finally spoke the words that had been weighing heavily on my mind.

"Kristen, do you think we did the right thing? I know it would have been hard, but we would have loved our baby."

Maybe it was the wrong thing at that time. Tears gushed down Kristen's face. "What would we have done, Jase? We couldn't take care of a baby. We'd have had to drop out of school, found jobs, and never gotten ahead. Mom's right; we'd have hated each other in no time."

"We'd have had each other and we'd have made it work. Somehow."

She shook her head. "I doubt it. It would have been too much. Jase, in fact, it's all too much now. I...ah...I need time."

"As much as you need, Sweetheart," I said, trying to reassure her.

"No, Jase. You don't understand. I'm not feeling good and just don't want to be touched, by you or anyone. In fact, that's just it. I need to be left alone right now."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. How about if I come back tomorrow night?"

"No, Jase. I'm sorry. You're not getting it. I...I can't see you any more."

"What?" I didn't know what she meant.

"I'm so sorry, Jase. I thought it would work out between us, but it's just too hard. I need time...so I'm...I'm breaking up with you. Please, don't make this any harder on either of us than it already is. Just go."

I was stunned so I tried to get her to rethink what she was saying, but nothing helped. Tears started flowing down my cheeks just like Kristen's.

Finally, Professor Sorenson stepped in, practically pulling me from the swing before taking my elbow and steering me away. When we stepped out on the front porch, she told me, "Jason, you are a good young man but Kristen needs to time to find herself. I recommend you doing the same. Maybe someday the two of you will have a chance, but not now. Please go and don't call her again. If she wants to speak with you, she'll call you."

*****

It was too hard. I called every night for the next few days, but each time, Kristen refused to speak with me and Professor Sorenson became more upset with me. It was when I knocked on their front door and refused to go away that Kristen's mom pulled her trump card.

"Jason, I know you love Kristen, but you need to let it go before your love gets you in even bigger trouble. A police record makes licensure very difficult, and for an engineer, that can kill your career. Please. Let it go. I'm going inside now. If you're still out here when I look back out, I'll be calling the police. Please don't make me do that."

I stared at the front door for a minute or two before finally walking out to my truck and out of her life.

*****

Present day...

The phone was unsteady in my hand as I recalled those long ago days, the joys we'd had, the way we'd thrown it away, and the guilt at least I had suffered over the choice we'd made. It was still one of the biggest regrets of my life, for we'd decided to terminate the only child I'd ever be destined to have. I suspected that Kristen probably felt similarly to me.

I'd called Kristen several more times over the weeks that followed, then over the following months, but eventually, I let her go as Professor Sorenson had suggested, with hopes that she'd call me back. She never did; I suspected that she felt the same guilt as me and that the pain of the thought of us trying again was just too much for her. My letters went unanswered, too, leaving a permanent hole in my heart.

Over the course of time, there'd been other girls I dated, but none that I loved like Kristen until I thought I'd found it again with Annie. Now, all those years later, someone I believed to be Kristen was on the phone with me.

"Kristen?"

*****

Chapter 4

Holding my office phone that night just days before Christmas, I wondered if it could really be her. Unsteadily, I asked again, a little louder, "Kristen? Is that you, Sweetheart?"

Another audible gasp. "Jase! I can't believe you still call me that all these years later."

"Kristen, it is you! How are you?" I asked as I slumped down in my chair, thoughts of heading for home forgotten.

"It's really too complicated to tell you over the phone, Jase. Can we get together?"

"Ah, sure, I guess," I said as I clicked on my monitor and opened the appointments calendar on my computer. "I have some time in early January. Would that work for you?"

"Jase, no. You don't understand, this is important. I need to see you tomorrow or Wednesday at the absolute latest."

I laughed. "It's Christmas week. It's next to impossible to get anywhere at this point unless you already have a ticket in hand and then it's only hard as hell."

"Jase, that's why it's so important. I live in Birmingham. Driving, I can be to Atlanta in just over two hours and Macon in about three. I think Macon's about four, maybe four and a half hours from you in Jacksonville. Can I see you at noon tomorrow in, say, Macon?".

"Kristen, this is silly. What's going on? Tell me or I'm going to hang up."

"Jase, please!" I could hear the pleading in her voice. "If you ever really, truly loved me, even a little bit, I ask you to trust me on this."

Knowing that I loved her more than anyone I'd ever loved, even Annie, I finally agreed. "Okay, let's make it Atlanta. Tomorrow at, say 1 PM Eastern time?" There were a couple of our firm's clients I could stop by there to visit, unlike Macon.

"Thank you, Jase. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I'll see you then," she said. "Give me your cell phone number and I'll text you a place we can meet. Oh, and pack clothes for a few days. I suspect you'll be glad you did."

*****

The restaurant in Atlanta was on the ground floor of an old five-story warehouse building converted into a popular development, with the restaurant and some retail spaces below and ready clients living in the lofts on the upper floors.

The maitre d' at the restaurant greeted me warmly and knew exactly who I was seeking when I gave my name. He led me into the space and announced me before stepping out of the way for us to see each other.

Kristen rose from her chair to greet me and my heart almost stopped as over thirty years seemed to vanish. She looked much as she had all those years ago, though her curves had become a bit more pronounced and her eyes and expression a bit sadder than I recalled Still, when she saw me, her expression changed to a wide smile that made me reassess that and truly believe she was glad to see me. We did the little hug that old friends and former lovers no longer in love sometimes do.

"Hi, Jase."

"Hi, Sweetheart. You're as beautiful as ever," I said truthfully, realizing only after the words had left my mouth that I should be playing my cards closer to my vest. I still didn't know the purpose of our mysterious rendezvous.

"Flatterer," she replied. "My mother says I look more like her every year. She's 78 now and I tease her that she's right: I find more gray all the time."

"I don't see a bit of gray."

"You shouldn't! That's why I pay the salon...to hide it when I find it," she said with a light laugh. "Anyway, Jase, thanks so much for coming. I'm sorry if I've thrown a monkey wrench into your plans for the holidays."

"So what's this all about?" I asked, avoiding a lengthy explanation of my poor impression of and meager plans for the season. One call had been all it took to find a substitute for my Meals route to rearrange my entire holiday schedule. "Is it your mom? Is she okay?"

"Oh, yes, she's fine. Still as ornery as ever. She'd tell me to tell you hello if she knew we were meeting."

"Good," I said, not sure about that last part. "I'm glad she's okay. I figured she must be at death's door and wanted to cuss me out just one more time before she went to meet Saint Peter." I was grinning, which caused Kristen to break a tiny smile.

"Despite what you may think, my mom always really liked you. Other than the part about having sex with her little girl out of wedlock and getting her pregnant, of course." It was her turn to give a thin smile, though, in truth, it was a painful reminder of our past.

I nodded, solemnly as I recalled that dark time and how, because we were afraid, we threw away all that we could have had if we'd only been strong enough to really fight for it. The guilt stabbed at me, forcing me to put it out of my mind.

The thoughts seemed to be with Kristen, too. She sat, with her head practically bowed, staring down at the table in front of her.

The waitress, seeing a pause in our discussion, swung by to take our orders. Not really being hungry but knowing it had been a long time since breakfast in Jacksonville, I ordered a sandwich, a cup of soup, and a glass of icewater.

I'm not sure if Kristen was really listening to my order, but she said, "I'll take the same," more to get rid of the waitress than because she liked what I was having. When the young lady was gone, Kristen bit her bottom lip and looked up, almost prayerfully, as if asking if she could avoid whatever it was she was about to do. When no miracles appeared to be forthcoming, she slowly turned back toward me.

"Jase, I'm truly sorry. You're going to hate me, really hate me, but I have to tell you the truth I should have told you many years ago. Mom tried to get me to do it, but I figured it would just hurt you more to pick at old wounds rather than leave the scars alone. I didn't know your circumstances, so I was scared to try to find you and contact you. That was in the days before you could find people on the internet."

I was getting impatient, wanting her to get to the point, which, on seeing it, caused Kristen to tear up.