Blind Squirrels (25 page)

From that point on, I couldn’t
concentrate on anyone else’s remarks.  My own were vague and unremarkable – and
unmemorable.  Ben had made an impression on me, and I became determined to get
to know him.  I needed someone clever and spontaneous in my life.

After class, I tried to meet Ben,
but his new fans were already surrounding him.  He seemed a little uneasy with
all that attention.  I decided I would wait until a more opportune moment to
make his acquaintance.

I had my other three classes on
Wednesday, beginning with composition.  The classroom was enormous, and there
were over a hundred students in my class.  Dr. Cozen stood way up front and
spoke through a microphone.  He was an older man – about sixty – but he was
rather handsome.  His hair was entirely gray, his eyes were sky blue, and his
smile could melt the heart of even a young girl of nineteen.  Dr. Cozen would
become my mentor during my two years at FCC.  He would also become my friend. 

Surprisingly in a class of this
size, I recognized someone.  It was Ben from my psychology class.  He was
sitting just two seats away.  After class was over, I walked over to him.

“You’re Ben, right?”

“That’s me.  Hey, you’re in my
psychology class, aren’t you?  Let me think...Katrina maybe?”  I couldn’t
believe he knew my name.

“Right!  How did you remember
that?” I asked in amazement.

“I always make it a point to
remember people I want to get to know.  That’s why I’m sitting here.  I saw you
when I came in.”  He had a charming smile, and when he smiled, his brown eyes
crinkled.

“Okay, Ben.  We’ve met.  What
now?”  I completely forgot the music class I needed to get to.

“Let me buy you lunch after my
next class – if your schedule is clear,” he offered.

I suddenly remembered where I
needed to be.  “Next class – I almost forgot.  I’ve got Music Humanities with
Gerald, whoever that is.  I’d better run.  I’ll meet you in the cafeteria at
ten-thirty.”

“I’ll be waiting.  First, I’ve
got Chemistry with Dr. Noble.  I’ll see you soon.”  Ben turned and walked away
down the aisle.  I was beginning to like college quite a bit.

Music Humanities was not going to
be one of my favorite classes.  The course focused on classical music, and I
had little interest in symphonies, operas, or concertos.  Mr. Gerald – the
instructor – was an odd character.  He wore his orange-red hair in a Dutch Boy
cut, and he had a bushy orange mustache.  He wore brightly colored silk smoking
jackets to class, and on a daily basis he forced us to listen to recordings of
Handel, his favorite composer.

I walked into the cafeteria at
ten-fifteen.  A few students were sitting around talking, but most of the
tables were empty.  While looking around for a place to wait on Ben, I noticed
that Ben was already there.   As I approached the table, Ben stood up and
smiled. 

“Hey.  I see you made it.  You’re
even early.”  He pulled out a chair for me to sit in.

After Ben bought us some lunch,
we spent the next two hours talking together.  He acted like such a gentleman,
but I believed that he liked me.  When twelve-thirty arrived, I didn’t want to
leave, but I knew I had to get to my tennis class.  Ben asked me for my phone
number, and he promised to call me later. 

As I left the cafeteria, I
thought about how cute he was.  His dark brown hair was shoulder length and
layered.  His sexy brown eyes twinkled when he talked, and his eyelashes were
long and lush.  His lips were full and sensual, and he had a cute little snub
of a nose.  His body was lean and muscular, and he had a deep, dark tan.  He
was – without a doubt – the best looking guy that had ever shown me attention. 
I just hoped he was sincere.

My tennis instructor was a small
oriental man.  Jimmy Chen was a former state champ on the tennis circuit, and
he would prove to be a methodical, consistent coach – expecting only the best
from his students.  He and I connected immediately, and I endeavored to do my
best and to make Jimmy proud of me.

That afternoon, Ben called me at
home.  He asked me out to dinner that night, and I accepted.  I was giddy and
excited as I planned what I would wear.  I picked out an ivory cable-stitched
sweater and a pair of black tailored tweed pants.  I also wanted to wear my
best lined jacket – it was cold outside.  It was in a storage box in the bottom
of my closet, so I started moving things out to get to it.

I found the box, and removed my
jacket.  Underneath was a scrapbook I had made during high school.  Without a
thought, I took the book out and flipped through it.  Most of the pictures in
it were of my friends: Aurelia, Dominique, Olivia, Laura, Felicia, Mona; also Jack,
Wayne, and Roger.  There were several pictures of Max as well.  These included
photos taken at Bons Copains’ meetings and snapshots my friends or I took in
secret.  Before, I would have slipped away into a world of nostalgia, but today
it wasn’t happening.  I knew right away that I was finally over Max.  As good
as he looked to me, I was still over him.  Ben was my new beginning.  Max was
in the past at last.

Ben picked me up that evening. 
He came in and met my parents.  We went out to eat at the Waffle House, and I
learned that Ben’s favorite foods were bacon, bacon, and bacon.  I’ve never
been big on breakfast, but I had an omelet just the same.  After dinner, Ben
showed me his apartment. We sat on his bed and talked for hours.  Ben was
something of a kook, but he was a likable kook.  He kept me laughing most of
the evening, and the hours just drifted away.  He took me home at midnight, and
we lingered for a while at the front door.  Our first kiss was nothing to brag
about – just a quick peck on the cheek.  Then he left me standing on the
doorstep expecting something more.

Over the next few months, Ben and
I would spend almost every day together.  We became great friends, and I kept
telling myself that we would never be more than that.  Ben had several habits
that I hated, and I knew he would never give them up.  At the same time, he was
very critical of some of my behavior, and I stubbornly held on to those quirks
that he hated most.

Inevitably, near the end of the
summer our relationship blossomed into more than friendship.  Ben took me out
to the beach one day, and he told me he had a surprise for me.  He handed me a
bucket of sand and a sand sifter.  “Your surprise is in here,” he said,
pointing to the bucket of sand.

I carefully began sifting through
the sand, and I feigned surprised when I found a ring close to the bottom of
the bucket.  My excitement turned to aggravation when I realized the ring came
from one of those quarter toy machines that are always in the front of
department stores.  Before I could exact my revenge, Ben presented me with a
genuine ring – a quarter-karat, marquis, diamond engagement ring.  He proposed
on bended knee there in the sand, and I accepted.  We planned to marry in
December.

Olivia could not get excited
about my news.  She was happy for me, but she and Chris had recently split up,
and she was in a depression over him.  Olivia was usually a cheerful bright
person, but she could get melancholy and distraught when things were going
rough.  I tried to bring Olivia out of her slump, but she wouldn’t budge.  I
managed to get a couple of chuckles, but when we hung up, I knew she was still
feeling despondent. 

Next, we told our parents about
our plans.  My parents were a little concerned that Ben was six years older
than me, but they did not try to interfere.  Ben’s parents lived in Ohio, but I
had spoken to them over the phone.  They seemed distant and somewhat cold, but
they told us that they were happy for us.  They planned to come to the wedding.

Somewhere around this time, Ben
decided that he was going to change me into the perfect fiancée.  I wasn’t a
skinny little petite woman, and suddenly that was what Ben wanted.  Every day,
he started criticizing my eating habits and urging me to exercise more.  His
unexpected faultfinding prompted me to start pointing out things I didn’t like
about him.  It was beginning to look as if we might call the wedding off
because neither of us would give in.  To Ben, my critiques were merely
nit-picking.  On the other hand, I felt Ben had no right to judge me by my
weight.  After all, I hadn’t gained any weight since I had met him.

The battle finally ended when I
brought up Ben’s marijuana habit.  Ben rarely smoked pot around me, but I knew
he frequently smoked it at other times.  When I objected to that, Ben
immediately apologized for making my weight an issue.  He assured me that he
loved me the way I was.  He further declared that he’d only started the argument
because he was nervous about getting married.  I should have stuck to my guns
and refused to marry Ben if he kept smoking, but I was too much in love to do
something so intelligent.  We were once again a happy, loving couple.

Ben and I married on December
16.  We had a lovely church wedding with about fifty people in attendance.  I
wore a white satin gown with pearl and lace trim.  Ben wore a dark blue tuxedo
with a burgundy cummerbund.  Olivia was my Maid of Honor, and Ben’s father was
his Best Man.  Ben’s parents paid for our wedding pictures and for a man to
videotape the event.  Ben paid for everything else.

Life as Mrs. Benjamin Bellanova
was blissful at first.  I was out of college for the Christmas break, and I
loved staying home in our apartment.  I saw very little of Ben, but our time
together was erotic and exciting.  We were immensely happy, and we saw no
reason why our happiness would ever end.

Although Ben had a modest income
from investments he had made before I met him, he decided that he needed a full
time job to support his new wife.  He took a position as an artist at a
silk-screening factory, and he made a fair salary.  Ben was a very talented
artist, but he wanted to work in communications.  He had no desire to make art
his career, so he planned to continue college in January while working at the
factory at night.

Just before our January classes
began, Ben invited some friends over for a party.  All of these people were
strangers to me, and all of them were into marijuana and other drugs.  I spent
much of the night in our bedroom, but periodically Ben would drag me into the
other room to show me something or someone.  By the end of the night, there
were people passed out all over our living room.  I locked myself into our
bedroom and cried myself to sleep on our queen-sized bed.

By morning, I was all cried out
and ready to fight.  The sight that met me in the living room was horrifying. 
Someone had puked all over my beautiful teal, paisley-print, French provincial
sofa leaving an indelible stain to mark the occasion.  I found cigarette burns
on all of my pillows and cushions. I also found a collection of marijuana seeds
in ashtrays and embedded in the furniture.  All I needed now was a little dirt
– and there was plenty of that all over the kitchen floor.  Everyone had left –
including Ben.  With no one to fight with, I used my anger to make the
apartment spotless.

Around noon, the phone rang.  A
man on the line asked if I was Mrs. Bellanova and then proceeded to tell me
that Ben had been in an accident.  He was in stable condition at Memorial
Hospital, and he was asking for me.  Forgetting my anger and frustration, I
quickly left for the hospital.

The receptionist at the
Information Desk told me that Ben was being moved from emergency to a semi-private
room on the third floor.  I took the elevator and arrived at the room just as the
orderly was arriving with Ben.  Ben was happy to see me, and he assured me that
he wasn’t severely injured – the doctors just wanted to keep an eye on him for
the night.  Feeling much relieved, I waited patiently in the hall while Ben was
being transferred from the gurney to the hospital bed.  A policeman was
approaching from the direction of the elevator, so I moved over to allow him to
pass.  Instead, he looked at the room number and then stood staring impatiently
into Ben’s room.  “Are you looking for someone, Officer?” I asked.

“I’m just here to speak with Mr.
Bellanova,” he replied curtly.

“I’m his wife,” I said.  Why did
he want to speak to Ben?

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.  I will
need to speak with your husband alone for a few minutes.”  It was clear the
officer wasn’t going to tell me why he was there, and it was clear that he
wanted me to leave.  I took the elevator back down to the waiting room, but I
continued to speculate on what was going on with Ben.

I took a seat in an oversized
chair.  The room was rather large and the lights were dim, so at first I didn’t
see the young woman sitting alone.   I noticed her when I heard muffled sobs
coming from the corner of the room.  Her head was bent over in her hands and
her bright red hair hung down into her lap.  It was obvious that she was
crying, and her body jerked with each sob.  I wanted to console her, but I had
no idea what to do or say.  So I sat and watched her and did nothing.

After a few minutes, a nurse came
into the room and went over to the weeping young woman.  The girl looked up at
the older nurse who was carrying some items in her hands.  The young woman’s
face was streaked with mascara trails and her eyes were ringed in black.  I
could see that she was about my age and she appeared very fragile.  I thought
that she was too young to carry whatever burden was now weighing her down.