The Prodigal
Twenty-four
JUST A YEAR AGO, I swore things would be different and I wouldn’t get so wrapped up in myself and my own problems that I couldn’t see what was happening around me. Wasn’t that what led me to take a shift as a camp liaison and rescue Wendy? Wasn’t that what brought me Kate? Hadn’t I made a bunch of friends at SCU and renewed my friendships with good people at PCAD? Didn’t I have four wonderful women and a life guys would kill for?
I should have been more fucking aware.
I came back from Intercollegiates a champion again. But this time, I’d been challenged, and the pressure was mounting. It was fifty-five days until the start of the National Singles Championships and I wasn’t going to miss my match with Brian Summers this time.
I sat in Cary Randolph’s office with Doc Henredon, Coach Jacobson, and Professor Strait—my college advisors. It was an intense meeting that I’d put off until after the competition.
“First off, you are a model student for the dual degree program, Tony,” Cary said. “You’re getting ready to finish your junior year and your faculty advisors have agreed that you could complete both degrees by the end of next academic year—in time to graduate with your class. We designed it as a five-year program, but that assumed a student who entered with no college credits. You had a lot of credits that SCU allowed to transfer from your high school’s AP program. Those were classes that didn’t transfer to PCAD. For the most part you had all the core curriculum completed before you enrolled. Congratulations.”
Man! I hadn’t been paying attention. I’d been working hard and knew I had most of my major classes taken, but I just didn’t think about finishing early.
“With the full semester of credit you got last summer while working on the mural and the load you’ve taken this year at PCAD, the end of the semester will have you ready for your final project,” Doc said. “You could pick up another four hours this summer.”
“The same goes for SCU,” Professor Strait said. “It was a great idea to take the online creative writing course this quarter, though I wish I’d had you for more classroom time. If you take the advanced course during spring quarter and two more courses this summer, you will have fulfilled all the requirements except the final project.”
“And your grades and performance are well over what was needed to keep your scholarships intact,” Coach said. “Congratulations on your big win last week.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Which brings us to whether you want to drag out the program for another year, or if you want to get ready to begin your combined final project next fall,” Cary continued.
Shit! It couldn’t be any worse than the last half of my freshman year. What could happen?
“Sure! I’d love to be able to graduate. What do I have to do?”
I wandered across campus after the meeting, my head filled with possibilities. I tripped over a park bench because I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going, just cutting across the soggy campus lawns. The grass was lush and leaves were coming out on the trees—those few that lost them out here. I plopped down on the bench, instantly getting my ass soaked, but I didn’t care. Across the lawn was a construction zone for the new campus chapel. SCU was a Jesuit school, after all. I supposed it was logical that they would have a chapel. Something about the fact that they were maintaining the traditional look in the architecture pleased me. Most new buildings were identical towers of steel and glass.
My head was filled with visions of graduation. I ticked off in my mind all the things I had to do. There were so many of them that my head became a jumble of floating dates and projects. I was sure Clarice would have another exhibition scheduled for this summer or early fall, so I had to keep painting. Yeah, had to. It was all I could do anymore to focus on anything besides painting and my upcoming racquetball challenge. The more I painted, the more ideas I had for what I wanted to paint. I loved doing suites that told a story. I needed to paint.
But my opportunity to win the national championship from the elusive Brian Summers was coming. I’d paint later. I headed for the gym.
After two hours of beating a little blue ball into submission, I had my head back on straight. I showered, called the family and told them not to save supper for me, and headed for the studio.
As I set up my easel, I thought about the missing self-portrait. Having not told anyone that I had painted it, I still hadn’t told anyone it was missing. I trust my lovers implicitly, don’t I? I imagined that it would show up one day in our living room, framed and presented in some kind of glorious ceremony. The real reason I couldn’t tell anyone, though, was my fear. As long as no one knew, I could pretend they were all innocent. If she admitted it, how could I ever trust Kate again?
I could feel the return of the anger I’d felt that night—the betrayal of having Kate assume she should be a slave to me—like Wendy. Only she was nothing like Wendy. Kate was the most headstrong and unbendable woman I’d ever met. She completely ruined it that night. I hadn’t called her ‘Kitten’ since. In fact, I had avoided little pet names, not even calling Melody ‘Meddy’ lest she think she should act like a slave, too. The only pet name I still used was to call Wendy ‘Tiger’.
Betrayal. That was a new one for me. I’d been angry, yes, but I hadn’t let the desolation of being betrayed settle in on me. Thinking of that night, I felt my lip tremble and gritted my teeth against it. Instead I put a blank canvas on the easel and started squirting gobs of paint on my palette. I didn’t bother with a brush, but started applying the paint directly to the canvas with the palette knife. It went on thick with heavily saturated color. I didn’t sketch, I just let it flow. I blended the colors on the canvas rather than on the palette.
Green. Envy? Jealousy? Grass. A garden. Streaks of black blended into the surrounding green defined branches. Flicks of the knife defined leaves. Lushness. Happiness. White and yellow. It’s night. A streetlamp breaks the surrounding darkness, revealing shadows in the background. People? Pets? A man on the path… pauses near a park bench. Glistening, wet. Not a place of respite. His eyes show surprise. But of course, there isn’t enough detail created by the knife to see his eyes. Surprise? His hand partially lifted. Placed on a shoulder… a woman’s shoulder. She’s kissing him. Standing on tiptoe. High heels. Long dress catching and reflecting the light, accenting her shape beneath. Stark contrast against the shiny blackness of his suit. Mix in cobalt. The pavement is wet, reflecting back their distorted forms. Light on darkness. Behind him a shadow arises. Sinister. Threatening. Indistinct. His own fears? Betrayal.
It was past midnight when I cleaned my supplies. I’d done it again—let my emotions take me into the canvas. This time with no music score. The last one, Desperate Love, I’d sent to the vault while it was still wet. So different from my usual painting that it could be by a different artist. I’d captured something different. In addition to shape and color and shadow, I’d captured the emotion missing in my other paintings. I flopped down in my chair to look at it, wondering what time I had to be in class in the morning. I looked at my Day-Timer and groaned as I realized I had a paper due for Bychkova at eleven o’clock. I opened my laptop and stared at my new painting, and began to write.
I ran home in the morning to shower and change clothes after having slept in the studio chair the remainder of the night. Kate had an early class and was already gone. Melody and Lissa were on their way out the door with the boys, all of whom I hugged, kissed and wished a good day to. I headed for the shower. A minute later, hands caressed my back and soaped my shoulders. I turned to see Wendy, intent on washing me. I started to say thank you, but she silenced me with a gentle kiss. When I was clean and shampooed, she toweled me off and pointed to the sink where my toothbrush and shaving gear were.
I stepped out of the bathroom to find Wendy with my clothes all laid out and a cup of coffee. She kissed me again and left the room. I watched her naked back as she left and momentarily considered being late for class. The light tracery of scars on her back was still visible.
When I was dressed and headed for the car, I saw her with her backpack headed for the door.
“Wendy. Wouldn’t you like a ride?” I asked.
“Thank you!” she said and we hopped in the car. “Just take me to the tunnel entrance so I can catch a bus. You’ll be late for class if you take me all the way to the U.”
“You’re welcome, Tiger. I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
In her quiet way, Wendy sometimes seemed to understand me better than anyone. She pays attention. I should do that.
But I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone that I was six months ahead of schedule. I just buried my head and did the things that were necessary. Life fell into a pattern of classes, racquetball, and late nights in the studio. Another online class completed my required courses for my degree at SCU, but I still had to pick two electives and my final project. My schedule was punctuated with wonderful loving moments with my family. We kept date night on Fridays and always tried to do something special on weekends, but even then, it was hard for me to keep thoughts of painting and racquetball out of my head.
There were three weekend tournaments in April and I signed up for all of them. Tonya and Whitney registered for one and Brent and Franklin competed in another. I was playing harder and working out more than ever before. I’d begun to lose weight. Bree went to the one competition that none of the other players competed in, but she didn’t play. She just went for company… and to drive while I slept.
I wasn’t taking any chances with my new painting. I’d checked on it every day since I finished it and as soon as I verified that the paint was cured enough, I crated it and sent it to the vault. I breathed easier from that point on. I rushed home for date night, but it was subdued. Bree and I would leave for the tournament early the next morning.
It was Regional Qualifiers Weekend and the competition was in the Tri-Cities. I wasn’t spending the night because I had too much to do, so Bree and I loaded into the car at five on Saturday morning and I slept all the way to Kennewick. Only Wendy got up with us and made sure I had a thermos of coffee for when I needed it. I got to the club in time to sign-in and step onto the court. I’d been so intent on my game that I dropped into my zone the second my foot crossed the threshold. Demolishing every opponent didn’t keep any of them from going to Nationals, but it added valuable points to my ranking. As soon as the last match was over, Bree and I headed back northwest to Seattle.
We talked for a little bit, reliving the games. I called home to tell them the results and that we were on our way back. Finally, I settled back and went to sleep, much the same as I’d done on the trip out.
I came awake slowly, realizing the car was stopped and the engine was no longer running. The next thing I realized was that my cock was painfully erect and was being sucked slowly toward orgasm. Bree’s red hair was bobbing up and down in my lap and each move sent waves of pleasure through my body. I put my hand gently on her head to pet her hair. She raised up to look at me.
“Good. You’re awake. I was afraid you’d come and not even be conscious of it.”
“You’re getting me awfully close.”
“Then let’s take a break long enough to get in the back seat.”
She got out of the car and I followed suit, looking around the bleak, dark landscape.
“Where are we?”
“A rest area between Ellensburg and Snoqualmie.”
“And what inspired this stop?” I asked as we slid into the back seat and embraced.
“Mel said no sex-play while the car was running. Haven’t you ever fantasized about making love in the backseat of your daddy’s car?”
“Well, yes, but this isn’t my daddy’s car.”
“No, it’s my daddy’s car.” She kissed me again, pausing only long enough to push her jeans and panties off her feet. Then she lay back and pulled me toward her. My pants never got below my knees before I was sliding smoothly between her pussy lips into her warm, wet embrace. I ran my hand up inside her T-shirt to play with her braless nipples. “Oh, yeah. It might surprise you to know that I’ve never done this before,” she panted as I pushed into her repeatedly.
“I seem to remember…”
“In the back seat, dummy. I’ve never made love in the back seat. Oh, god, Tony. More. Please more.”
We made love. I kissed her, pushed her T-shirt up so I could nibble on those perky nipples, and thrust into her over and over. I didn’t hold anything back. I made love to her like she was the last woman on earth. And when I came, I thought I’d died.
As our breathing began to slow, I felt moisture on her face. I kissed at her face and wiped away her tears.
“What is it, Bree? Are you upset?”
“Yes… no. I’m worried. Tony, hold me, please.” I held her and rocked her. I started to pull away, but she pulled me back into her. “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?” she asked as she gripped me.
“Melody? Why would she ever not want you?”
“She’s getting married. Everything is going to change, Tony. If she doesn’t want me, you won’t want me and I’ll miss Lissa and Kate and Wendy. Tony, I’ve felt so whole this past year. I’ve felt loved and included. I’m afraid that without you all, I’ll fall apart again.”
“It doesn’t work that way with us. Once you’re in, you’re in.”
“Like you are now?” she giggled. I felt the vibrations right down to the root of my cock and groaned.
“Not what I was thinking, but apt. We don’t make someone a part of our family as a temporary thing. Don’t think that because one of us isn’t marrying you or because you don’t live with us that you are disposable. Mel isn’t like that. Lissa isn’t like that. I’m not like that.”
“I know. I know. But they are so beautiful together. So in love. Don’t you worry sometimes, Tony? Don’t you worry that when you give them babies there won’t be room for you anymore? I’m just so insecure. I don’t have your confidence.”
“I know my lovers,” I said responding to her continued pulsing by pulling back and thrusting in for emphasis. We both moaned as I bottomed out against her cervix.
“I hope you’re right. But right now, you are right where I need you. Make love to me again, Tony. Show me how silly I’m being.”
The Trips found and bought a VW minibus. It reminded me of Erika’s in Georgia. Willow was convinced that he could have the minor repairs done to it in short order and the girls had already started to clean and scrub the interior. It was so Alice’s Restaurant.
“We’re just going to go wherever the van points,” Rainbow said.
“Which direction?” I asked.
“There’s not that many choices from Seattle,” Sunday said. “Either east or south or a combination of the two.”
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Kate asked. It was obvious she was worried about her siblings and their girlfriend.
“Come with us. You’ll see,” Willow laughed. I wasn’t sure, but I thought his minor speech impediment had become less pronounced. He had a new confidence in the way he spoke.
“Yeah. Right,” Kate said. “I’m not going to be a fourth wheel. You’ll do fine without me.”
“So, when do you plan to start this great adventure?” I asked.
“We were thinking we’d stick around until after the PCAD gala thing Kate told us about. Maybe till after you win Nationals. We don’t want to leave so early that we’ll hit rotten weather in the mountains.”
It was hard not to share their excitement, though I knew now that we’d all miss them.
“What’s the big occasion tonight?” Donna asked as she clipped my hair. Howard was busy with another customer. They knew that if they saw me, I was going out with my ladies.
“Didn’t you get an invitation, Donna?” I asked. “It’s the big gala at PCAD. I thought you’d like to see some of what I do for a living.”
“A living? I thought you were in school.”
“School ain’t cheap. Gotta work.”
“Howard! Did we get an invitation to a big gala over at the College of Art and Design?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Big formal wingding. Probably raising money.”
“And when were you going to tell me I needed a formal for tonight? I need to get my hair done. And my nails!”
“You mean you want to go?” the barber with the razor asked.
“Of course I do. It’s Tony’s show. We can’t miss that.”
“Will all your girlfriends and wives and concubines and mistresses be there, Tony?” Howard asked as he moved over beside us.
“All of them plus a few extra,” I said. “You can’t get too interested in my women, though, Howard. Your date will get upset with you.”
“Date?” He looked at Donna like she’d just grown an extra head. “Oh yeah. Date. That must be why there’s a corsage in the refrigerator.”
“There is?” Donna asked.
“Yep. And a formal gown laid out on the bed. And you’ve got a nail appointment in twenty minutes. Guess that means I have a date tonight.”
“Howard, you big ox. A girl needs a chance to get excited.”
“Aren’t you excited now?” He kissed her, right in the barbershop.
When I’d been shaved and my face dabbed with lotion, I paid. Howard looked up and down the aisle at the front door to the shop.
“Where are they?” he asked conspiratorially. “Who’s picking you up?”
“What? Do I need an entourage every time I get my haircut? You dirty old man.”
“Well, they always come to get you. And they are so cute! That tall blonde… Lissa?… She is something else. You’d never believe those two boys are hers.” Howard was waxing rhapsodic and nearly missed the kiss I got. He turned suddenly. “Hey! Who’s this? Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Allie,” Allison said. “You must be the guy responsible for this baby-smooth face on Tony.”
“I’m responsible for the smooth part,” Howard said. “The mug is out of my control. Pleased to meet you Miss Allie. I don’t recognize you. Are you Tony’s girlfriend?”
“She’s his ‘acting’ girlfriend,” said a voice behind me. I turned to see Amanda sidling up to me. She, too, had obviously been to the salon and looked like a million bucks.
“Wait, wait!” Donna said. “Acting! I knew I recognized you. Howard, she was in that musical we saw at the Wagon Wheel in January. Wow! What a voice! It was our first date.”
“Thank you,” Allie said.
“Hi honey!” Rio, just as fresh from the salon and all dolled up slipped around in front of me and made a big show of jumping up and down trying to plant a kiss on my cheek. I finally bent so she could reach me and I’m sure she left lipstick on my face.
“If she’s your acting girlfriend, who are these two?” Howard asked.
“We’re his study girlfriends,” Amanda said. “Amanda and Rio.”
“Really, Tony. How many tonight?” Donna whispered.
I thought about it a few seconds and said, “Well, counting you, I think there are fifteen, but there are six other guys, too.” I winked at Howard.
“What do you mean, ‘counting me?’”
“We’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,” I said as we turned to walk out.
“Howard…”
“Go to the salon, Donna. They’re waiting for you.”
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