Double Tears
Chapter 108
“What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open, different from measurable time and space.”
—Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler
I WAS UP and on the road at three in the morning Friday. Em had managed to find a cheap redeye flight that got in at ten till six. I was not going to miss being there when she arrived. Mom was already up and had an insulated cup of coffee for me to take along. She—well, everyone—thought I should have someone traveling with me but I wanted… I needed to be alone with Em for a while as soon as she arrived.
It was as quiet a drive as could be expected in a pickup truck. I put some classic rock and roll in the CD player and set the cruise control at one mile per hour below the speed limit. It was early enough to miss morning rush hour in Indianapolis and I cruised into the airport parking lot two hours and fifteen minutes later. As soon as I got there, I glanced at the arrivals and then ran for a restroom.
I was dancing from foot to foot when I saw her come through the exit and rush toward me. I just caught her in my arms and swung her around, trying not to clip anyone with her feet. And then we kissed. It had only been three months since we kissed goodbye in San Diego but I was starving for her lips. There was a little applause from laughing passengers who had to step around us. I set her on her feet and looked at the little backpack she’d dropped when I grabbed her.
“Do you have luggage to claim?” I asked. She looked at me.
“Why? Am I going to need clothes?” she asked. I stared at her dumbly. “Yes, you doofus. I decided it was too much hassle to pack light and carry it on. But if the bag isn’t at baggage claim, I might go naked anyway.”
“That suits me fine but you might want to wait until we get to the truck to start undressing.” Em was pulling her shirt over her head.
“It was cold on the plane but it’s plenty warm here,” she said while holding her T-shirt down with one hand and pulling the top off with the other. “Let’s go see if my bag made it from Los Angeles.”
“Los Angeles? I thought you left from San Diego.”
“Yeah. There’s no direct flight. I was not happy spending four hours at LAX.” It turned out that her bag came off the plane with the others and I rolled it behind me while refusing to let go of her hand as we walked out to the truck.
I tossed her bag in the back seat and quickly raised the arm rest and stowed my coffee cup so she could sit in the middle seat.
“So this is what you chose for your car? Can you even get out of town without a full tank of gas?” she laughed. She had no difficulty sliding to the middle and buckling up there. “I guess it does have advantages,” she said as I kissed her. “I’ve missed you so much, J.”
“Ditto that. Let’s stop at Bob Evans for breakfast before we head home.”
We had breakfast, sitting on the same side of the booth and feeding each other like we were newlyweds or lovers. We were. Now that she was with me, I wasn’t as frantic to drive and either get home or anyplace else. Back in the truck, she laid her head on my shoulder and before I’d hit I-69, she was asleep. I stopped at the rest area near Gas City and Em sleepily sat up straight. She wiped a bit of drool from my arm.
“You’re much more comfortable to sleep on than the plane,” she yawned.
“Want to stretch out a little?” I asked.
“On a picnic table?” I opened the gate of the truck and slid out the bed. I planned ahead for this and had it all made up. It was narrow but I figured it would be plenty for what we wanted. “You naughty boy!” she exclaimed after she’d hopped up on the bed and I slid it back in. I followed her and closed the gate. I blocked the window open a few inches.
“Now you can take off your clothes if you want,” I said. She was almost ahead of me.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t get a chance at you until tonight,” she whispered as she helped me with my belt and zipper. “I’ve been dreaming of this for three months. I almost suggested you stop at that motel back in Anderson.”
Em was trim and her upper body was muscular from handling the wheel of her truck. I traced the tattoo on her shoulder blade and put kisses all over it. Then we were wrapped in each other’s arms and getting sweaty in the close confines of the truck bed.
“Is this legal?” she giggled as I massaged her breasts and she positioned me to enter her.
“The sign says eight-hour parking limit. I’m sure they expect people to take naps here.” We didn’t actually nap. Not for a while. Sliding into Em was as wonderful as I remembered and we took our time, sweat slicking our bodies enough that she could slide effortlessly up and down my torso as we made love.
“I feel like I’m truly at home now,” she whispered when we were both sated and lying clasped together.
“I could really use a nap,” I said. “I’ve been on the road since three.”
“We’ve got seven and a half more hours,” she said as we lay back on the pillows. It didn’t take long for both of us to be asleep.
I awoke to my phone buzzing in my back pocket about half an hour later.
“Are you safe?” Mom said immediately. “We expected you back by now.”
“We had to stop for a nap,” I said. “I guess it’s over now so we should be home in an hour or so.”
“Let me talk to your sister.” I handed the phone to Em and she chatted with Mom while I petted her. When she finally told Mom we weren’t starting back until she hung up, the call ended abruptly.
We spent a few more minutes kissing and petting but it was getting really hot back there and we reluctantly put our clothes back on and got out of the truck. The little breeze there was cooled us off as we headed toward the restrooms. It was almost eleven and the temperature outside was climbing to an early July muggy day.
Mom had delayed any of the rest of our pod from coming over until after we’d had lunch with the family. Of course, Pey had to have time with Em as well and we just sat with the family to catch up for a couple of hours. Mom and Dad were both taking an extended long weekend that would include Friday, the Monday holiday, and Tuesday. Our girlfriends started filtering in about four and Dad had prepared steaks for the grill. Nanette and Donna got there about five-thirty. We sat in the back yard well into the evening hours, swatting at mosquitoes and telling stories. Em spent a few minutes holding each of our girlfriends, including Donna.
“We have a little change of plans for Sunday,” Donna said. “It seems someone invited a highly protected teen to the cookout. The only way to make it work to the mother’s satisfaction was to have everyone over in the afternoon. I hope all the pod will still come in the morning, though.”
“That works for me,” Emily said. “I can’t wait to see your house now that I’ve heard so much about it. What should we all bring?”
“Don’t expect steaks,” Donna laughed. “The parents all volunteered to bring things so we’ll grill burgers and brats and everything else will be potluck.”
“Deviled eggs!” Emily said. “Can I make them at your house?”
“Definitely! Why don’t we all fix our dishes during the morning while we’re getting reacquainted.”
Saturday was a family day for the Fourth. Emily, Livy, Rachel, Nanette, and I all went for an early morning run at Donna’s farm. I was surprised to find Beca there and making us breakfast when we came in to shower. Breakfast was mostly fruit and toast, though she’d done up a plate of sausages for those of us who needed protein after our run.
“I’m staying out here with Donna this week,” Beca said. “Isn’t that cool? It’s so peaceful. And I’m trying to be useful as well as ornamental.”
“We’ll find out how useful you are when I start mowing this afternoon,” Donna laughed. “I’ll make a farm girl out of you.” After we’d cleaned up breakfast and had a little kiss-fest, the rest of us headed home.
“We need a serious meeting before the guests get here,” Emily said. The two of us had spent last night sandwiched between Rachel and Livy. It was a wonder any of us could walk—or that we were awake—Sunday morning. Those of us who were running got out to Donna’s early for a five-miler. By the time we were out of the shower, complete with a little messing around, Desi, Brittany, and Sophie had arrived. Beca again served a huge bowl of fruit with a plateful of sausage and bacon.
“What’s up, Em?” I asked.
“I’ve been holding back some information because it needed to be just our pod without families to talk about this. I wish Joan was here but, Beca, you need to jot this down and tell her when she calls you tonight.” Beca immediately ran to Donna’s study and got paper and a pen. Em’s tone pulled all of us to attention.
“Do you need me to leave?” Donna asked. We all looked at her.
“Donna, do you really think you are not part of this pod?” Nanette asked. “You know there’s no initiation ritual. You don’t have to have sex with Jacob to be part of our pod.” Donna blushed but nodded and Em went on.
“I got a grade promotion, effective on my one year anniversary this coming Wednesday,” she said.
“That’s great, Em!” We all joined in congratulations.
“I was also offered the ‘opportunity’ to enter the management training program.”
“Congratulations, Em. You’ve been hoping for that all year,” I said.
“Rachel, Livy, you’ve been in Henderson’s Constitutional Government class this past year. What was his mantra?”
“Read the damn contract,” both girls replied.
“He talked about the constitution as a contract between the government and the American people,” Rachel said. “Every time a question came up, he responded with ‘Read the damn contract!’ I thought he really wanted us familiar with the constitution and we read it about twenty times.”
“He did. But there’s an underlying message. Anytime the government offers you a contract, read it and understand it. The condition of entering the management program was to extend my service six more years.”
“Six years? That’s ridiculous!” I said. “Please say you didn’t sign it!”
“But if I had just listened to the offer and not read the contract, I would have. Did you know that the National Service is ‘managed’ by the military as the National Service Corps? Neither did I,” Em continued without pausing. “Entering a management contract commits you to a total of eight years active duty, just like a volunteer who wants to go to officer candidate school. And it’s not a guarantee that you will be promoted to a management position—just as entering officer training doesn’t mean you’ll pass.”
“Shit! Those sons of bitches,” I said. There was a lot of grumbling around and we all reached out to touch Em, Rachel, and Livy. Rachel and Livy had a year left before they were required to enter the National Service.
“I’ve been doing a lot of research in my long lonely time off,” Em said. “Believe me, I wish I just had extracurricular activities like you guys do. And a few lovers. You all know that I’m housed on what used to be a college campus. It has a huge library and still offers classes as well as activities. Like I still run three days a week. The other four, I work ten or more hours and just don’t have the energy to get up early enough to run. But I did take a class this year that was advertised as a review of standard constitutional government classes. Only this professor slips a lot of extra information in and directs students who are interested in learning more.”
“What else have you found out?” Livy asked. “This is getting scary.”
“I don’t want to cover the whole class or research,” Em said. “But here are a few salient facts that weren’t brought up in our class. When the 28th amendment was ratified in 2003, congress was given a mandate to have the National Service in operation by January 1, 2014. There are a lot of special interests represented in congress and it was hard to agree on exactly what the shape of the service would be. It got its name patterned after the Civilian Conservation Corps of the ’30s. Congress passed the law at the eleventh hour and our former president vetoed it immediately. It was a noble gesture, but the constitutional deadline overrode the veto. The law went into effect on January 1, 2014. Since then, everything that has come up as an exception to the rules has had to have a congressional amendment to the law passed. Again, the former president vetoed every one. In 2016, the current president was elected. He has signed fifteen amendments so far. Each one has moved the National Service Corps further under military control. Without it actually becoming a branch of the military, it is now fully managed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and for expediency follows the rules of the military plus a huge volume of rules, regulations, and procedures that changes almost every day. For example, active service personnel are not allowed to travel outside the United States unless on official assignment. We currently have people serving in the National Service in so-called civilian jobs in thirty-two different countries. All are either with embassies, relief corps, or at military bases.”
“Fuck! Why doesn’t anyone know this stuff?” Beca said. “I need to talk to Joan.”
“The service is six years old,” Em said softly. “No one who took the offer has come out of service yet.”
“Shit. That’s what Henderson was getting at,” Rachel said. “He put the numbers in a handout on college enrollment. In six years, 20 million people have gone into the service. But only ten million have come out. I should have done the math. I just thought ten million were still serving but that means at least three—maybe four million have signed contracts for an extra six years.”
“Which is why college enrollment is still down,” I said, remembering our visit to the University in Kansas. “Even with the promise of free tuition.”
“I don’t know much more, but J, you need to bring these things up in class when you take it next year. I’m sorry I didn’t have the information in time to help Rachel, Livy, and Joan.”
“And we still don’t know exactly what it means,” Desi said. “Jacob and Beca are enrolled in that class as juniors but Brittany and I have put it off till our senior year.”
“It means we’re going to start pushing more on the Repeal 28 movement,” Beca said.
“And I’m going to change my required reading list this year,” Donna said, nodding.
Parents and sibs began arriving shortly after noon and we were ready to eat around two o’clock. Donna had encouraged those who golf to bring their clubs and pulled out buckets of golf balls from her store room so they could practice their swing on her 400-yard range.
“Dad collected golf balls for twenty years,” she told our parents. “I spent many a summer evening sweeping back and forth across the range.”
Cindy’s father and two brothers were among the first to get out there, but even the non-golfers were attracted by the opportunity to practice their drives. The moms mostly gathered together to talk about their children and Donna told everyone about the trails through the woodlot, so a lot of people went to explore. That let Cindy join us in the pod when we went to the basement game room. Donna’s father was into all kinds of fitness and there were weights and machines down there, as well as ping pong, pool, and foosball. We pretty much ignored the games, though, as we sat around and talked. I wished Joan was with us. She was the only one missing.
It seemed almost inevitable that the conversation would turn to music and our performances over the summer.
“I don’t know,” Cindy said. “Mr. LeBlanc and Jannie want me to pursue getting into one of the orchestras. That’s Mom’s plan, too. I love the music, but I don’t know that I just want to be one of the players in a big group. I’ve discovered there is a whole world of fun in performing this summer. I just don’t know what I should do. I really like what Lindsey Stirling is doing, but she didn’t have to do National Service.”
“I looked up all the Lindsey Stirling videos I could find after you mentioned her in Kansas,” Livy said. “She really has a flair for performing. And she’s earning at least as much through her sales as she could fighting for a chair in an orchestra.”
“The thing is she does a lot more than play the fiddle,” Desi said. “Every video is a big production.”
“The same is true of that Russian guitarist you like so much, J. Tatyana Ryzhkova has some amazing videos but she only has a couple hundred subscribers to her Patreon. I hope she’s making some money,” Sophie said. “You should watch the one where she plays four parts. It’s amazing. I still don’t know how they put it together.”
“What you should do…” Donna started. Then she shut up abruptly.
“What is it, Donna?” I asked.
“No. I don’t want to become a teacher with you as students.”
I plopped down on a pillow next to her and pulled her into my arms. I could feel my pod holding its breath. I gently turned her face toward me and kissed her. I didn’t let up. I know Donna had kissed most of the members of our pod. I’d even seen her with Emily for a few minutes this morning. I didn’t let up on the kiss. When we finally broke the kiss, everyone was breathing a little heavily. I was happy to see Brittany had put an arm around Cindy and my young musician partner had melted toward her.
“No one is ever going to mistake our relationship as teacher/student,” I said softly but loud enough everyone could hear. “Everyone in our pod has ideas and we share them openly. We started that when Beca and I first got together to do our special project for Human Geography. If you have an idea, you should feel free to bring it up.”
“Am I really…” I kissed her again. She nodded.
“Without telling you what you should or shouldn’t do,” she finally said, “I was going to suggest that you write a story, Jacob. You could choose a piece of music—let’s say not more than ten minutes—that you both like. Write a story to go with it and then start seeing what you can do to act it out when you play the piece. The story would become your first video. Maybe we could get enough camera and recording gear together to film it when you come to the Ren Faire in Kentucky. It would show whether or not you have the right vibe to produce that kind of music.”
“That’s a great idea!” Sophie chimed in. “If we can help with dance or acting or narration or whatever, we would.”
Everyone was all over the idea. I looked at Cindy and there was a kind of fire in her eyes that I couldn’t deny.
I needed to write a story.
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